Life Finds a Way

Chapters

Chapter 1: Memories
Chapter 6: A snake in the... grass?
Chapter 24: Cellular Service
Chapter 43: Hearth's Warming Eve
Chapter 55: Who wants a bawdy massage?
Chapter 57: Cupid's Fluffy Cousin
Chapter 76: Another Day, Another Bay-bay
Chapter 94: Professional Tentacle Inflation (SFW)
Chapter 114: Whores, Horse Shows, and Hounds
Chapter 121: Catching Up
Chapter 124: PreFilly Friday
Chapter 2: Magic Experiments
Chapter 3: Worse dinners have been had
Chapter 4: What hath man wrought?
Chapter 5: First Lessons
Chapter 7: Breakfast & Harvest
Chapter 8: Town
Chapter 9: Magic Experiments 2: MoD & TK
Chapter 10: Talk
Chapter 11: Friends
Chapter 12: Heal
Chapter 13: Cure
Chapter 14: Sit
Chapter 15: Authority
Chapter 16: Evolve
Chapter 17: Conflict
Chapter 18: Ascension
Chapter 19: Tree Plans
Chapter 20: Rodeo
Chapter 21: Toil
Chapter 22: Crew
Chapter 23: Teamwork
Chapter 25: Catharsis
Chapter 26: Baltimare
Chapter 27: Natural Male Enhancement (Possibly NSFW)
Chapter 28: Canterlot
Chapter 29: Familia
Chapter 30: Embrace the Suck
Chapter 31: He terk er jerb!
Chapter 32: Running of the Leaves
Chapter 33: Werkwerkwerk
Chapter 34: Pay'n'Spray
Chapter 35: Cooper Team
Chapter 36: Individual Results May Vary
Chapter 37: Tricks and Treats
Chapter 38: Executive Decision
Chapter 39: Tribute
Chapter 40: Sharing is Caring
Chapter 41: BOHICA
Chapter 42: Special Delivery
Chapter 44: Weapons of Man
Chapter 45: Heartfelt Goodbyes
Chapter 46: Heartfelt Hellos I
Chapter 47: Heartfelt Hellos II
Chapter 48: A Completely Typical Lunch
Chapter 49: Supply Run
Chapter 50: Communication
Chapter 51: Cheating With Style
Chapter 52: It's a Different World, Mr. Franklin
Chapter 53: Trojan Horse Mk II
Chapter 54: Arbor Day
Chapter 56: Hearts and Hooves Day
Chapter 58: Sparks Fly
Chapter 59: I Come Bearing Gifts
Chapter 60: Arrival
Chapter 61: After Dinner Conversation
Chapter 62: Pest
Chapter 63: A Powerful Cream Pie
Chapter 64: Royals
Chapter 65: Departure
Chapter 66: Intern
Chapter 67: Logistics
Chapter 68: Moving
Chapter 69: Rock'em Sock'em Healbot
Chapter 70: Updates
Chapter 71: Talent Show
Chapter 72: Wergild
Chapter 73: Expedient Expedition
Chapter 74: Delivery in Five Minutes or it's Free
Chapter 75: Laying it All Out
Chapter 77: Day on the Town
Chapter 78: Reunion
Chapter 79: Proper Service (NSFW)
Chapter 80: All Hail the Prince of Balls!
Chapter 81: Everypony Loves Meetings
Chapter 82: Celebratus Interuptus
Chapter 83: Aftershocks
Chapter 84: Orientation
Chapter 85: Tools for Penetration & Fluid Exchange
Chapter 86: Date Night
Chapter 87: Dear Prince Serpentus
Chapter 88: Forever Young
Chapter 89: Untamed Lady Bush
Chapter 90: Memorable Shows (NSFW)
Chapter 91: Body Double
Chapter 92: An Offer You Can't Refuse
Chapter 93: Baby's First Steps
Chapter 95: Advertising
Chapter 96: Interactive Evidence
Chapter 97: Common and Superior Senses Slay Opposition
Chapter 98: Updates and Plans
Chapter 99: Fillies and Less Complex Phenomena
Chapter 100: Master of Puppets
Chapter 101: Find the Ball
Chapter 102: Prince Blueballs
Chapter 103: Chancellery
Chapter 104: Commercial Opportunities
Chapter 105: Lessons
Chapter 106: Cuisine
Chapter 107: Prince Serpentyou
Chapter 108: Let's Be Friends
Chapter 109: The Art of the Apology
Chapter 110: The Games Begin
Chapter 111: Third Party Solutions
Chapter 112: Taking the Lead
Chapter 113: Scent of Wo- Mare
Chapter 115: Q and A Session
Chapter 116: It ain't Fiction, Just a Natural Fact
Chapter 117: Final Event
Chapter 118: Competition Celebration
Chapter 119: Beaver Blocking, Royal Edition
Chapter 120: Missed Opportunities
Chapter 122: Monday, Monday
Chapter 123: Lord Clearport Short

Chapter 1: Memories

Author's Note

Hello & welcome! New story, new author, etc. I'll probably post several chapters that I've got ready to go then put them out as I write 'em. We'll see!

-Later Edit-
The first dozen or so chapters have lots of "text walls". I'll chalk that up to inexperience and maybe clean it up at some point, though no promises. If you can endure it beyond these initial chapters I do work to break them up a lot more, I think starting around 12.

Chapter 1: Memories

Date: Monday, September 1st, 908 AB
Location: Golden Hills, 1 train stop west of Baltimare (pop. ~4000, mostly earth ponies)

Memories, he wonders, how do they even work? Obviously they’re stored in the brain. It’s some kind of an electro-chemical process. At least, that’s what everything I can remember says… and isn’t that an ironic thought. Or, wait, is irony the right word? Damn that stupid fucking song.

“Cure, pay attention! Bring over another box of cucumbers! I’m almost out up here and there should be a few boxes left in the wagon.”

He lets out a quick “Sorry dam” while fetching the next box of supplies for the display.

So if they’re stored in the brain, how can I have them if they’ve never been in this brain? I can’t possibly have the same brain; it would be about half my damn torso, let alone able to fit in my skull. Well maybe my scale is off a little bit, but not much if these cucumbers are about the same.

Cure Wave gets the box on his back easily enough, then brings it up to the stand where his dam has set up her garden’s harvest. She had been moving merchandise pretty well and Cure was tasked with playing the shelf stocker every time something started getting low. Obviously, though, he had a few other things on his mind.

Cucumbers are usually about a foot long if I remember right, so they make a pretty decent, if crude ruler. Well, the ones mom grew weren’t that big, but I know the ones we’d get at the store were bigger. Given we’re in bullshit magic pony land where random earth pony number 3152 can grow better crops than a fully industrialized, modern farm, I’m betting these are ten to twelve inches, roughly.

I’d guestimate I’m about two feet tall and about the same length. Weren’t their bodies more tall than long in the show? Also, weren’t they only like… three feet tall at the withers or something? I remember Celestia at least kinda towered over everyone, but she was still a pony. If you see a pony that’s six feet tall at the withers is it even a pony at that point or a damn horse? I think I would be looking up at her knees right now. Being weak and tiny again blows ass.

Also weren't their faces more… human? I guess my schnoz isn't full-blown horseface, and the eyes are definitely too big and forward facing… but nobody would think anything but "pony" when they see me. Definitely not seeing the weird dog/pony/human mix kinda thing the show had… though I'm pretty sure pony and horse necks are more horizontal than vertical like we are. Divergent evolution I suppose.

His focus snaps back to his dam who is looking his way from the storefront again. “I said melons, Cure. Get a box of melons out of the cart and bring it up here.” Looking warily over her only child, Spreading Vines was starting to get a bit concerned. “Do you need to lie down? It’s like you’re asleep on your hooves today.”

The memories of a very different lifetime had come to him over the last few days. Fortunately a big chunk hit just before bed a few nights ago and seemed to “settle in” overnight. A colt just a bit past their 8th year would likely freak the hell out and go screaming to his parents, otherwise, but the most valuable and important memories for his immediate circumstances made his situation clear to him when he awoke the next morning.

His initial reaction was roughly “Holy shit, I’ve been isekai’d or something. Wait, I remember hacking my lungs up and being in the hospital. Well at least I can forgo all of the moral quandaries about “oh did I just eat some baby’s brain or something” since I can still remember the last few years. I wasn’t aware while stuck in the womb for the nine months ponies are preggers, thank all that is holy."

“Huh? OH! Sure, one second,” he mutters as he digs into the surplus boxed up in the wagon.

Well, “wagon” may be a bit generous. It’s definitely larger than a cart, but it’s not a full sized wagon, just wagon-shaped. It holds about a dozen crates of produce, tops, which is probably about half of what his dam’s garden can produce in an average month. He couldn’t pull it himself, at least not loaded, but he may be able to get it moving right up until a hill came along. Then the evil bitch that is gravity would flip him the bird and it would be game over. Moving it while empty wouldn’t be that hard.

The wagons were all parked in rows set back from the vendor stands a bit since everypony’s full inventory wouldn’t fit in the relatively small displays they had set up.

I can think of a dozen ways to make this faster but damn if these ponies just don’t seem to care about efficiency at all. The emphasis has clearly not shifted to maximizing profit like humans did from about the 80’s on. This is obviously just as much a social gathering as it is a business opportunity.

Cure thought about the social aspect of the farmer’s market. Clearly he would have to make a few more friends at some point. The whole overarching message of the TV show was that true power could only be fully realized when the collective group worked together. Plus, he is a member of a herd-prey species now. The whole communist ideal may not have worked with a bipedal, predatory, evolved ape but it seems pretty damned successful in his current situation. Sadly it looked like most other ponies his age dodged the draft or skated out already.

He had a few friends from before "the download" but maintaining those might be a real challenge now. They'll also certainly notice a change in Cure's behavior before too long. Of course hanging out with kids a lot more won’t be the only adaptation he’ll be getting used to.

I’m never going to be able to eat meat again. That’s such bullshit. Salt, pepper, and some worcestershire sauce on a t-bone in a sous vide cooker with soy-buttered mushrooms, garlic mashed potatoes, and stewed tomatoes. Blackened Salmon on rice with some air fried asparagus. Snow crab legs with drawn butter. Oh man I better stop or I’m going to literally drool on dam’s fruits and I don’t think ponies will pay extra for that. Still, if I knew I wouldn’t live to fifty I wouldn’t have held back so much.

Seriously, though, I figured the whole destiny mechanic of the world would cram you in the body you were “most suited” for. That’s what they did in the stories Alanna and I would read together. I figured I’d be a griffon or a dragon then. Well clearly that’s bunk… fucking fanon BS. Even if “pony” was the best fit I think I’d probably give up two legs for a damned horn. Who the fuck decided it was OK to put me in a world of magic and then prevent me from casting a damn lightning bolt? Actually… I can kind of see the logic there, now that I think about it.

Ugh, let’s just get these last few boxes I can zone out when we get home. There’s only one more box after these and then whatever is left at the stall and we’re sold out anyhow. Then I have the rest of the day to fuck off and start working on magic.

After returning to the stall he took a moment to look over the market. The crowd was thinning a lot as the afternoon wore on. Clearly most of the other weekend sellers were nearly finished with their inventory too, so mom - err, dam should be about ready to head out.

Half an hour later they were packed up and on their way home. While typical for the area, Cure’s feelings were mixed regarding the house. His sire, Clean Deed, made good money working in real estate. His whole family were earth ponies, as was about ninety five percent of the town he called home. His sire had the most normal colors of the bunch, though, with a chocolate brown coat and darker mane and tail.

Dam… his biological mother was the stay at home mom. Surprisingly, with her small garden alone she made enough between trading, selling, and just growing to feed the family. Cure definitely got his colors more from her than his sire. He wondered if she maybe had some Apple family in her because he can remember seeing at least one of them that was close to her color scheme. She had a bit of a darker green coat, not quite “forest” green, but close, and more of a yellow than a blonde tail and mane.

His other mom, or really just “mom”, worked as his sire’s de facto assistant-slash-secretary, though she is just as, if not more vital to keeping the lights on as he is. Well, if ponies actually had to really worry about keeping lights on, that is. Candles lit? Lamps oiled? Light gems charged?

Regardless, Title Search kept Deed’s tail out of the wringer more than a few times when he couldn’t find something he needed

They had met a few years ago and hit it off, originally as partners. When it became obvious he was bad with paperwork and organization but great at the people part, or “pony part” of the job, they divided up the work accordingly. She is pregnant with, presumably, his first sister, and due in about 5 months. Apparently pony pregnancies last about the same as a human’s. Horses carried for a little longer, but since pony foals are born closer in physical size to human babies the 9 month preggo time seems about right.

Her coat was a light powder pink color with a darker purple mane and tail. Really, it was a pretty color scheme and reminded him a lot of Cadance’s colors, except she didn’t have the multicolor thing going on like the future princess would.

His dam and sire were really young when he was born. Apparently he was an “oops” baby, so they were planning on having another foal next year once Title had hers. The polygamy thing initially seemed odd, but he got over almost immediately. Title was a wonderfully sweet mare and doted on him at every opportunity. She treated him like her own even though he’d only known her a few years. He found himself looking forward to his half-sibling being born. The idea of having a large family just seemed right to Cure, so the thought of a bunch of cute fuzzy brothers and sisters running around made him smile.

God I miss my family. I’m so relieved Cydni didn’t have to watch me die, but poor McKynzie. She lost her grandparents six and two years ago and now just lost her mom and dad on Father’s Day weekend. I hope Brad can stay strong and get her and Alanna through this. I’d give anything to hold my girl and my granddaughter again. If time flows the same here as there I’ve been dead for 8 or 9 years, assuming conception was the day after I died. That’s a terrible assumption though. I’m in a whole different fucking universe. For all I know it’s been forty billion years and the big crunch and another big bang has happened. Wherever my memories were stored beats the shit out of magnetic tapes if that’s the case.

Then again, there’s gotta be some link between this world and the human world, so… parallel universe with some bleed over? I doubt it’ll matter in my lifetime, so I guess I might as well focus on the present. Wait, how long do ponies live? Wasn’t Granny Smith like hundreds of years old in the show or was that fanon again? I don’t really remember seeing lots of other ancient looking ponies though. Then again all my great grandparents are alive and half of their parents are still kicking too.

Ponies have foals in their late teens to early twenties a lot more often than humans though. Mom and dad are 24 now, which is a tad old to really start building a family. Way to fuck their plans up, Cure. Good lord, dam was only like fifteen when she got pregnant.

I think my grandparents must be in their late 40s, and my great grandparents are in their seventies, maybe late sixties… and their parents would be in the late 80’s to early 90’s, give or take.

The whole having kids early thing is the ticket though. Makes it a bit challenging, I’ll grant, but McKynzie was ready to get out of the house by the time we were in our early forties. Most of my friends had preschoolers while she and Josh were graduating. Shame what happened to that boy. Drugs, booze, and motorcycles don’t mix well, but I still felt awful even though he treated me like shit and his loser father like he walked on water.

Can… Can I walk on water at some point? Chakra could do it, why can’t earth pony magic? I mean, they seem like their properties do overlap to some degree, don’t they? Holy shit wouldn’t that be something… I’m going to go spam Shadow Clones and turn into a training freak if that’s the case. Then probably draw EVERY set of eyes everywhere and end up being dissected or something. Or go down in legend; one of the two is likely if that worked, maybe both.

How fucked up is it that I’m going to probably end up owing any success I have to watching cartoons with my kids and grandkids? Actually, you know what, I’ll just chalk this up to another benefit of spending time with them. I’m glad I didn’t end up in the cartoons that I had when I was their age. That shit was way more violent. I don’t care how they play it up for comedy, Tom getting the guillotine for Jerry fucking up dinner just wasn’t cool, especially when you show it to sub-ten year olds. Jerry was a total fuck, looking back on it. Let’s not even talk about how many guns were in those Looney Tunes skits. Yosemite Sam’s whole schtick was shooting Bugs in the face and if Wile E Coyote’s ideas worked half of them probably wouldn’t have left much intact Roadrunner to even eat.

I guess those were more dad’s generation than mine, though. Still, all those 80’s cartoons were some kind of post-apocalypse or stranded on an alien planet. Actually, there was a MLP from the 80’s too, wasn’t there? I don’t know shit about that one, though. I think some of the characters were the same. I seem to recall a Scootaloo but I’ll be dead by the time this show’s one is born. I wonder if I can leave a trust fund to research deformed or underdeveloped wings or something.

Upon arriving at home Cure got the hugs, nuzzles, and “thank you’s” from his dam before peeling off and heading over to a few of the rows in the garden that were just reseeded with a pencil, a notebook, and some goals for the day.

Chapter 6: A snake in the... grass?

Tuesday, September 2nd, 908 AB

The nap didn't last long. Both began stirring a little under an hour later. Vines goes to start on dinner and Cure follows behind, opting to keep her company but otherwise stay out of the way. There just isn't much to do for a colt that can barely reach the top of the counter.

Pony meals are much simpler, Cure noted. With the far more sensitive taste buds and the lack of meat that requires cooking there really isn't usually much work involved in dinner prep except for baking a dessert if the evening calls for it.

Chop up some veggies, maybe slice up some fresh fruit on the side, shred a little cheese, sprinkle a bit of seasoning and viola… dinner is ready. The only thing that really stood out is the quantity.

Ponies with sedentary jobs still tend to burn a lot of calories because of how much they walk around. A normal commute is probably a couple miles. With a canter speed around seven to ten mph that's only a ten minute walk. Still, four legged locomotion burned more calories if he remembers right. He's also of the mind that ponies weigh a bit more than humans, especially females. If his family is typical, males probably only outweigh females by thirty percent or so, whereas he was a solid ninety pounds heavier than Cyndi. If he had to guess his sire probably clocked in at about 350 lbs and his mom's were in the upper 200s… and none of them had an ounce more fat than a pony should have.

Shit, I hadn't really thought about it but my sire probably has a hundred pounds of straight muscle more than I did in my prime. And I don't think he's even seen the inside of a gym before. I feel a little ripped off on behalf of humanity. I wonder what kind of yields I can expect from a healthy diet, regular exercise, the infusion of magic… ok so next experiment needs to be on buffing myself and improving my physical condition. Maybe if I just visualize an ideal body shape and cycle a bit of magic through my system I can encourage my growth in the general direction of that ideal. Sounds simple enough.

So… what does that look like? Generally speaking the princesses are considered the ideal physical form. They're taller but most of it was legs. They're pretty thin in the frame and body, though. Definitely a female ideal, then. The only male that seemed masculine was Armor, at least from what I remember. Blueblood is a nancy boy but I think he was physically supposed to be attractive. Still, Armor has that thickness in the chest and a stockier build. There were enough lazy, power fantasy hack writers that made male alicorn SI’s / OC’s, you’d think I’d have a better idea of what they look like. Nobody wants to be like Bulk Biceps, though.

I suspect magic would, again, fill in the knowledge gaps, but rolling the dice with a watermelon plant isn’t the same as doing it with your own body. I think I need a medical book so I don't accidentally cripple myself. Ok, holding off on that for now. Not sure what to do then.

Vines' and his ears swiveled to the sound of the front door opening. Cure jumps off his cushion and goes to meet his sire and mom with hugs and nuzzles.

He gives the necessary time for the post-work routine (huge piss, near o-tastic gas release, face and hoof scrub) before asking about their day. It sounds like pony office jobs are approximately as boring and mundane as human ones. His sire is excited about a client that reached out to him from Baltimare looking for a home for his soon-to-be married daughter (read: oopsie preggers) and Title is planning out an advertisement campaign for their company she wants to talk Deed into.

There are thankfully few life altering surprises at dinner compared to yesterday.

With a smile lighting up her face, Vines regales the duo with her experience in the garden. "I couldn't believe it, that first time I almost messed myself right there in the garden. Poor Cure saw a side of his dam that little colts aren't meant to see, I'm not proud to say. That feeling running through me, though…" Vines stops, looking up at the ceiling with both forehooves pressed to her rose-hued cheeks. "Sweet Celestia, I can't even describe it."

Deed looks her over real slow and suggests, "Maybe you could try to explain it later… you know… in great detail. For science, and stuff."

Cure shakes his head while laughing, "I'm sure I can manage on my own, dam. We don't want my sire getting all pouty and clingy, do we?"

"Oh no you don't, mister," Title waves a salad-covered fork at Cure, "your dam got her colt pampering time while I had to babysit this goofball at the office." She continues, ignoring the offended "Hey!" from Deed. "Your future little sister and I need our adorable colt snuggle time just as much. I get you tonight while your poor dam can tough it out with him," she says, waving the still leaf-covered fork at her husband.

"So hurtful," Deed pouts while looking down at his plate. He lets out a sniffle and whines out, "abandoned as soon as a smarter, cuter stallion catches their eyes. Woe is me!" he wails dramatically, clutches at his chest, and rolls off his cushion onto his back.

"There there, pa. I still care about you." Cure pauses when Deed's ears perk up in his direction, "after all, you represent over a third of the household income. How else will my moms buy me stuff without that?" he asks to the giggling laughter from both mares.

Deed's ears fall flat on the floor and his limbs slump bonelessly down. "Not a shred of loyalty anywhere. They even got my own boy turned against me! My sire was right about mares all along!"

"Well I know where you can find a bunch of loyal females, dad. Just head down to Auntie Bean’s farm and those cattle gals will welcome you with open hooves. From what you said they'll even make you a delicious warm dinner! Just don't forget the cookies." Everypony busts out laughing at Cure's suggestion. Deed abandons the act and, once he gets himself under control, goes back to eating.

After dinner, the family heads out to the garden for a demonstration of Vines' magic. As expected, neither can see the aura though both agree that the cornucopia cutie mark on her flanks seems to light up when she is connected to the land. Vines shows off a bit, earning the muted claps and stomps of her mates and son. She and Deed are going around the garden looking at all the progress that was made today while she showed off her son’s new super plants and explained what she understood about them.

Meanwhile, Title looks down at Cure, who she'd been just about hovering over the whole time. She leans down and plants a kiss right between his ears saying. “Oh wow, Cure. I don’t want it to sound like we didn’t believe you because that’s really just not the case, but seeing this just the very next day… I don’t even know what to think.” She lays down in the grass, wrapping him in her forelegs and setting her head and chin on top of his. “I want you to feel safe sharing whatever you think would be helpful. If you need something, don’t hesitate to speak up. We don’t want you feeling like we’re trying to take advantage of you, so if we’re not asking questions it isn’t because we don’t care, alright?”

She feels him nod below her. “I know, mom. I’m not really sure how to say this without upsetting anypony, but keep in mind that in those memories I was a grandfather. I lived more than twice as long as any of you. I raised two kids and had a granddaughter that was a little older than I am now. I know parents need to ask questions sometimes, especially in such a bizarre situation like this.” He stops and nuzzles up into her chin and cheek while rubbing his withers into her chest. “You won’t upset me, no matter what. I promise I understand. I have a lot of knowledge this world may not have but there’s a lot you’ll know that I won’t, so you have to promise me not to hesitate to ask me questions too, okay?”

They sit in silence for a few minutes just watching as Vines lead Deed around explaining everything. Title had never worked on a farm growing up, so while she finds the whole magic growing bit interesting, she lacks the underlying experience needed to really follow along. Still, the significance of completing a week of work in one day is not lost on her keen mind.

“You know, there are a few things that I may need, and at least one of them is going to sound really out there,” he comments.

“Just say the words. As long as it won’t cost too much I think we can figure something out.”

“Well first I need some medical journals or textbooks. I don’t think anything college-level is necessary, but maybe more like what they would provide in health classes or maybe basic anatomy classes. I don’t think I’ll need anything for at least a few months until we get a good feel for how my modified plants develop, but if everything goes well I’d like to start figuring out how we can use our magic to improve our health and strengthen our bodies,” he explained.

At her nod he continues, “Also, and this is the odd part… humans published magazines aimed at adults audiences where the contents were mostly pictures of attractive members of one sex or the other. I certainly don’t need anything pornographic or overly explicit… at least, not until I’m starting to hit puberty, but it may be helpful down the line if I have a better grasp on pony beauty standards. I assume there’s something similar available here since, you know… sex sells and all that.”

“HAH! Oh, Cure, honey… I swear, I never thought the day would come when a little colt of mine came up and said, “Mommy! I want a magazine full of pretty mares!”” Title couldn’t help it, she guffawed and laughed out loud, shaking Cure underneath her. Vines and Deed overheard her and came back to check out what was going on. She looks up at Deed and explains, “We have a special assignment for you, dear. Cure needs you to go get a Playcolt magazine for him so he can get a good look at the pretty mares!” She squeezes Cure between her forelegs so he knows she’s just teasing him as she busts out laughing again.

With a pout, Cure kicks at the grass a little and corrects her, “I’m not going to object to that out of hoof, but what I actually need is a better idea of what mares consider an attractive stallion, mom.”

“Right here, sport. Check this out.” Deed sits up on his haunches and flexes into a few different poses. “You got it easy there, son. Ain’t no better model for male masculinity than your ‘ol pa right here in front of ya… why you lookin at me like that?” he asks as he finds himself on the receiving end of a deadpan stare from his son and double eyerolls from his wives.

“There, there, honey. You’re absolutely right. You’re the biggest, studliest stallion on this side of Canterlot,” Vines pats him gently on his withers. As soon as he looks away from her back to Title and Cure she quickly winks at them and waves her hoof in a so-so gesture.

“Well, as sure as I am that you’re Grade A Stud material, dad,” with an “ugh, gross” under his breath only Title could hear, he continues, “I’m willing to bet there’s at least one or two stallions out there that might just edge you out when it comes to these things. This is more of a long-term project anyhow. I don’t want to sound overly vain, though I bet I’m failing, but if there’s some obvious pattern to what is or is not considered attractive I would prefer to know about it before puberty kicks in. As sad as it is to say, life is just flat out easier if you’re pretty.” At this he combs a hoof down his mane and looks up to meet Deed’s and Vines’ eyes, “At least… that’s been my experience thus far.”

They both bark out a laugh and nod along.

“We have about an hour of sunlight left before we need to head inside,” Cure pauses and looks to Vines, “I wanted to see if we could get Deed and Title both at least able to cycle their magic a bit. Would you be up for helping teach them? I think your perspective on what did and did not work would be better since my thought process is pretty far from a typical pony’s.”

“That sounds wonderful, honey. Do you want to go inside or stay out here? With the weather this nice you know I prefer to be outside.”

“Mom, dad, thoughts?”

“Let’s do it, son!” “You bet, this is so exciting!”

“Okay,” he moves out from under Title and sits opposite from Vines, “the way I explained it to dam earlier was to imagine a source in your chest like your heart or your lungs. I think heart is better, though I suspect magic comes from another organ that humans simply lacked. Still, it definitely feels like it comes from right in this area for me,” he said as he rubbed his hoof on his chest. “Dam, same for you?”

At her nod he continues, “Great. So you have this ball of warmth in you. It’s like a liquid, but thicker than water. More like a porridge of heat pooled in your chest. It’s not only in your chest, though… that’s just where it comes form and where it returns to. It flows out of your chest and up your neck. It flows into your head, through your brain, into your eyes, your teeth, everywhere in your skull, then back down your neck. It does the same with your forelegs; the warmth flows through your heart, into your blood, down your legs, then back up again. It does the same with your rear legs, passing through your abdomen, your hips, thighs, knees, hooves, and back while branching off into your rear, your tail,” he pauses and looks at Title, “your womb, the life growing inside of you. It flows through every part of us, then flows back into our chest where it repeats just like how our blood moves through our body.”

Vines nods at him with an encouraging smile.

“From what we’ve seen, visualization is key when it comes to using your magic. Having a thorough understanding of the process works, but as long as you can picture what you want to happen, if you have enough power and it’s not completely impossible, magic will answer the call. It may help initially to close your eyes and picture your body as if you were standing behind yourself or maybe to your own side. You can see beyond the fur and the skin and imagine the warmth flowing all through your body in an endless cycle, touching every part of you. I’m going to stop talking for a few minutes. I want you to just keep imagining what that looks like. Lock that image in your head so you can keep it the same even when you are ready to open your eyes again.”

Cure follows his own instructions. He pictures his little body, visualizing a small fusion reactor in his chest. The plasma is contained, held within his skin, as conduits spread throughout his body. He pictures himself like a medical diagram from the front of his muzzle, slowly working towards his core with this new network of magic attached to his nerves, his blood vessels, his organs, and his bones. For about ten minutes he sits there imagining that warmth spreading throughout his body, but always contained inside of his skin.

He felt like he could picture every part of himself. Like an awareness slotted into place that just wasn’t there before. Before he could ponder on it he felt his attention pulled to some minor bruising he got playing tag with his friend earlier in the week. He looked at the area with curiosity. It was a small area on his left foreleg he hadn’t even really felt. The blood vessels on the outside surface just below the knee were ruptured. If he pulled back his fur he could probably see a small dark or yellowed patch of skin. Compelled by instinct, he gently pushed his magic to the area. Using the opposite leg as a template, he encourages the blood vessels to repair themselves, pushes the blood that had leaked into the surrounding tissue to absorb back into the body, and cleans up any remaining discoloration.

When he finally opens his eyes he’s surprised to see all three adults staring at him, mouths agape. Raising a single eyebrow, he looks at them and finally mutters, “What? Were you able to picture it?”

“Yeah, son. I think we all pictured it. Though, we’re not the only ones that got the picture, if ya know what I mean.”

“Huh?”

“My baby! You did it, Cure!” Vines hollers as she’s literally bouncing in place.

“Wut?”

“Your cutie mark!” Title yells. “You got your cutie mark, Cure! Oh my sweet Celestia! Look at it, Cure!” she’s waving her hooves frantically in his direction.

Cure barely has time to look at his own flank before he’s scooped up into yet another PonyPile, Standing Edition. “Ack!” Unprepared for the hugs, Cure ended up with a mouthful of his dad’s fur. “Geez, some warning. Ugh I’m gonna be spitting up your fur all night, ya sweaty beast.”

“Ha! Okay, fine, ease off the boy. Let’s see what we have here. I’m not really sure what this means.”

“It’s… well, it’s a bit presumptuous to be honest. It’s called the Rod of Asclepius. It’s a symbol that humans associated with healing. It’s from a culture that existed about two thousand years ago. I’m a little leery of the implications, to be honest. Asclepius was a Greek god. Well, I guess it’s not that big of a deal. The symbol itself was widely used for healers and medical professionals.” Cure had to smile at the thought. His family had a few doctors in it; his grandfather even served as a front line medic during the war. It was a calling he could be proud of, even if it’s not what he ended up going into in his life.

“My grandfather wore a version of this symbol on his uniform. He ran into combat armed with medicine and gauze and pulled soldiers on both sides back from death’s door. Momma always said the bravest, most fearless soldiers out there on the battlefield were her pappy and his cohorts doing their damnedest to save a life while surrounded by thousands on each side of the field tried to end them.”

He stopped, wiped a tear from his eye, and looked up at his parents. “I wondered the last few days what it would be like. Humans don’t really find their calling in the same way. I figured it would just show up some day, a silly picture on my leg that I could either pursue a career in or just ignore and go do whatever. I never could have guessed what it would feel like to have some force of the world reach down into your soul and point you in the right direction… something reach into your very existence and say, “I think this may be the way for you” like that. Is that what you all felt when you got your marks?”

“I think so, sport.” Deed turned and looked back fondly at his mark, two hooves locked together over the outline of a house, a family of ponies silhouetted in front of the door. “I was just a bit over twelve at the time. My older cousin, Lily, had just gotten married a few months prior. They had just found out they had a foal on the way and decided it was time to get a long term house instead of renting. One of my classmates’ family had just moved a few weeks prior, and something in my head just clicked and told me that the house they ended up selling to the bank was perfect for Lily and Thunder. They got a viewing set up and asked me to come with them and, sure enough, as we’re looking through the house I just know what needs remodeled and fixed up for it to really meet all their needs. Something told me I would always be able to help ponies find a nice place to live from there on out.”

“Aww” both Vines and Title are looking at Deed fondly. “You always glow when you tell your story, honey. It’s so adorable!” Vines squeals. Calming down, she focuses back on Cure. “He’s right, honey. That’s the way I’ve had it described by most ponies. I didn’t even realize I had gotten mine until my parents pointed it out to me later. I had been working in my dam’s garden, just happy as a lark playing with the plants. I didn’t feel anything like it until earlier when you had me really focusing on myself while growing those melons. I always felt a little left out until then, to be honest.”

Title nods along with Vines. “Mine’s more like yours, Vines. I didn’t get my mark until I was almost seventeen, which is really late for most ponies. I think I was the last one in the group of my friends, and I was starting to get really worried. I was working a part time job in a real estate office just going through a bunch of records on this horribly messed up plot of land. Some plot that was close to downtown had changed hooves a hundred times over as many years and half a dozen ponies were threatening to sue each other. Meanwhile the poor young stallion had just bought the place near his job for his family to move into and he didn’t know what was going on, just that his money was tied up and his family needed somewhere to live. I had just finished putting everything in order and nailing down the timeline of ownership and hoofed over my final report to the boss and she looked me over, told me how proud of what I’d accomplished she was, how excited the buyer would be, and then congratulated me on finding my mark. I was so blown away by the last bit I don’t even know what she said from there on out. She sent me home with a bonus and a voucher for a fancy dinner and a show later that week.” She motioned to her mark, a stack of papers with the top one rolled up, illegible writing across it, with an area blown up by a magnifying glass.

Title lets out a small chuckle. “I swear I musta ran straight home. Almost busted the door down eager to show my parents. I still had the voucher hanging out my mouth while I’m squealing, dancing around my dam until I calmed down enough to see what I was even carrying. I don’t think they’ll ever stop retelling that story, so do me a favor and just nod along when they do, will ya?”

“Still, though… he’s so young to get his cutie mark. I doubt anyone else in your class will have theirs when school starts back up. We should probably think about what you want to tell them about how you got it, assuming you want to keep the whole magic thing under wraps a bit,” Vines points out.

“I’m not sure. I have some ideas. We’re kind of running out of daylight, though,” Cure says as he looks west. The sun is only a few hooves above the horizon. “We have maybe thirty minutes before we need to head in. Did you two have any success with the whole visualization thing? I think we can probably move the “improved health” theory into the “verified” column if my mark is any indicator, so the sooner we can get you there the better, especially you, mom.”

“Oh yeah, I think I’ve got it, son. That was a very good description of what I was feeling.” Deed nods. He glances over to Title and she nods along with him.

“Yeah, I definitely felt something, Cure. I didn’t try to do anything with it, but it’s definitely there,” Title agrees. “What do you want us to try?”

“Honestly, I’m not sure. I was doing the same thing, but all of the sudden I could see a small bruise I got when Heavy, Rocky, and I took a tumble while playing tag the other day. It would have healed on its own in another few days, probably, but I was able to kind of channel the flow into the area and clean it up.” He holds his hoof up and shows the previously damaged area, moving the fur aside to show unblemished skin. “You couldn’t see it through my fur, but it was just a yellow, blue area. Do you have any cuts or bruises or anything to focus your magic on? Maybe just kind of will it through your skin, muscles, blood, bones, and organs while visualizing yourself being healthy and fit. As best I can tell, your own magic won’t harm you, only help.”

Title shook her head. “I think I’ll just observe for now.”

Deed thought for a moment, “I have this kind of ‘catch’ in my shoulder, if you know what I mean. I took a bit of a fall several years back and, even though it healed, I still get a twinge there. Maybe I should focus on that and how it used to feel compared to the occasional flare-up I get now?” He rubbed his right hoof on his left shoulder in a circle. “I wouldn’t miss that if it went away for good.”

“I have an idea, dad. Would you mind if I give it a try with you? This symbol is associated with healers, like I said. Between that and my name I feel like I might be able to lend a hoof here.”

“If you think it’s safe, son.” Deed lays down on his belly. Vines and Title come in closer and are peering over Cure’s shoulder. He sits on his haunches directly between Deed’s front legs and puts his hooves on his sire’s shoulders.

“Okay, dad… I want you to go back to your visualization like before. I want you to picture what your right shoulder should look like, then kind of imagine that mirrored over to your left one. I’m going to be taking a look at both of them… hopefully, which is why I’m sitting in front of you instead of on your bad side. I’m not going to be trying to fix anything, I just want to see if I can get a glimpse at what’s going on. I don’t even know how I could change anything at this point. Still, I’m just going to basically see what I can see.”

Unsure exactly how to proceed, Cure thinks over his options. When he fucked up his shoulder he needed endoscopic surgery to fix it, but since the problem was in the cartilage and not bone it took an MRI to find the issue.

Well I guess this will be an MRI if it works. Slightly different M, I suppose, but magnets were magic anyhow, right?

Sticking with the visualization theme, it seems to him that the best course of action is to picture his dad like a CAD model or like the character creation part of a video game. The latter line of thought clicks with him and, as he gently cycles his magic into his sire, he feels the image forming directly in his brain. The image resolves itself in his head, slowly coming into focus as his aura manifests, merges with his father's, and spreads throughout his dad's body.

An involuntary "ugh, damnit" slips out of his mouth. Two sets of ears swivel in his direction and both mares look at him disapprovingly. He ignores everything else in the world to focus on his dad, specifically the injured shoulder area. He's not really sure what to look for, but when he follows his own advice he finds that he can isolate both shoulders, mirror the healthy right shoulder to overlay the injured left one. Without a medical reference guide to be sure all he can do is assume that the small, pinched area on the left side is either the problem itself or is at least a symptom of whatever the real problem is.

Watching for a few minutes, he sees his dad's aura washing over the area, but unfortunately there's nothing obvious happening. Maybe there's some minute reduction in the general inflammation of the area? He isn't sure; the magic certainly isn't causing harm but he suspects only the symptom is being treated.

Cure withdrawals his aura from his dad and fully sits on his haunches in front of his father. It takes a few minutes, but eventually Deed comes out of his trance and looks down at his son’s frowning face.

“Uhh… it’s not that bad, is it son?”

“Yeah, what’s with the potty mouth, young colt?” Vines asks while staring him down.

“Oh. Sorry about that. No, nothing is really wrong, dad. I think I was able to see the problem, though. You definitely have a little pinching going on in that left shoulder just over here,” he explains as he points out exactly where the pinch was happening. “I was able to see your aura covering the area, though. It was soothing the inflammation, but I think that’s just a symptom of the problem. I would need to know more about orthopedics before I could even really make a diagnosis. All I can say for sure is that I saw something. I think you’d need a minor surgery to fix it unless that’s something a unicorn can do with their horn.”

“And the cursing, mister?” Title crosses her forelegs over her chest.

“Ugh… yeah. That. Let’s just say that when I was working on the visualization I got a lot of information.” At their continued stares he cringes before elaborating, “I saw everything. Every. Thing.” He says with a full-body shiver. Comprehension dawns on both mares and they burst out laughing.

“BAHAHAHA! Got a good look at yer sire, didja, son?” He wraps a foreleg over Cure’s withers and pulls him close to his chest. “Now don’t worry, my young colt, there’s nothing to be ashamed of. I’m sure one day you’ll grow big and strong just like your pa.” Deed pokes Cure in the ribs a bit. “The ladies will be begging you for a good look at you someday too, son,” he explains with a sage nod, confident in this absolutely inevitable fact.

“Yeah, yeah, laugh it up. I’m mature enough to accept the fact that I’m probably going to see a lot of,” he waves his hoof at his father’s back half, “THAT if I decide to go into medicine. Still, to just have it shoved in your face like that when you’re not expecting it… I mean, come on!” he yells, throwing his hooves into the air.

“Ugh, been there,” Vines mutters. Title just nods sadly. “Nopony likes a sneak attack, but that’s just one of the consequences you have to accept when sleeping in the same bed as a stallion.”

“Dam! Gross! Gah, forget you bunch of sickos. I feel like I need another shower,” Cure calls over his shoulder, retreating back in the house.

“Not so fast, little mister. You still owe me my colt snuggle time. You aren’t getting away that easily!” Title calls out as she chases after him.

The family retreats back to their house, cleaning up and getting ready for bed. Sure enough, Title walks into his room and claims her snuggle buddy for the evening, wrapping him in her forelegs and rolling onto her back. Draped across her fluffy pink chest, his head lays sideways on her shoulder. Just like his dam, she hums a soft lullaby and, for the second night in a row, Cure drifts off to sleep wrapped in the safe, comforting warm embrace of one of his moms.

Chapter 24: Cellular Service

Author's Note

Nerd warning: Math incoming.

If your eyes start to glaze over and you want to skip the nerd part of the conversation just do a Find for "Let me break it down for ya" (without the quotes) to skip to the end of it, roughly. It's not that important story-wise, especially if you're not a numbers person. I tried to keep it coherent, but the typed word is not the best format, which is why you find tables in scientific papers. The BBCode table function is apparently not supported here.

You'll know you're at the right part because Title calls Cure a nerd at the start of it.

You're getting this chapter a day early because I spent enough time on it that I'm 100% done messin with it. It'll probably be Monday before 25 hits. It's big, but I'm pretty sure it's not quite this big. Err... "as big of a deal" that is. It's a sligthly longer chapter as it stands now, and I tend to add crap on when editing, so it may break 14k.

Edit: Reminder! There probably will be little or no updates for the 2nd half of November. In fact, I'm planning 28 for around Nov 11 and that may be it until I can get back to it, so don't freak out if I go dark for 2-3 weeks.

Chapter 24: Cellular Service

Sunday, September 7th, 908 AB. Afternoon.

The family wakes a little while later and, after a filling lunch that mostly came from the garden, is lounging around while waiting for Solar to show up. Vines and Title are off to one side reading some awful romance novel while Deed and Cure are playing checkers.

Cure actually has to give his sire credit. He’d challenged the stallion with the assumption that a docile pony couldn’t possibly be good at a game where aggressive moves triumph. He then lost three times in a row, muttering about how it’s been years since he played.

“Sure, son. Whatever excuse lets ya sleep at night. Clearly I bust out the checkers game all the time. I’m sure you’re just rusty,” Deed teases with a patronizing nod.

“Bah. Whatever. You’re going down this time. Just a couple more moves and I’ll win.”

Just as he reaches for a piece there’s a knock at the door. Jumping up to answer it, Cure has to fight to keep his ears from falling when he finds Emerald Aura accompanying Solar and, also unexpectedly, Dawn. “Hey, everypony. Come on in!” he says with forced cheerfulness.

Introducing everypony, Cure gets two more guest mats out of a closet and lays them out.

Dawn apparently has other plans as she plops down right next to Cure on his cushion, ignoring the brief glance from Title, Deed, and Solar, a happy, wiggly smile from Vines, and a somewhat stunned, longer stare from her dam.

Figuring “Why not?” Cure decides to keep messing with Emerald and happily leans so his side is against the filly who gradually glows more at everypony’s look and the colt’s touch. Rubbing against her shoulder a bit he cheerfully says, “Afternoon, Sunrise. I didn’t know you and yer dam were gonna run with us today. The more the merrier, I say. Do you usually run a lot, Mrs. Aura?”

Blinking a few times before she realizes he was talking to her, Emerald slowly shakes her head no. “Not… as such, unfortunately. I can’t say I’ve ever enjoyed running.”

Solar has fully turned his head away from his dam to hide the laugh threatening to break free. Vines mane may actually be glowing a little, and Title is covering her face with a pastern, fake coughing to not crack up.

“Oh! Well we’ll try to keep it under twenty today,” he says, turning to the older colt who’s actually shaking a little and ignoring her wide-eyed sputtering. “I hope you ate a big lunch with lots of greens, there, Solar. Yer gonna need the energy ‘cause I ain’t carryin ya home.”

Sitting up a little, he puts his foreleg over Dawn’s withers and pulls her against himself. “Somepony’s gotta take care ‘a Sunrise here and I don’t think I can go that far with both of ya on my back at the same time.” With a bright smile he meets Emerald’s eyes and adds, “Don’t worry about a thing, Mrs. Aura. I’ll take real good care of yer daughter.” Never looking away from Emerald, he takes his hoof off of the radiant filly and lays down, leaning into her again.

“Uh huh. I’m good to go, Cure. I’m not sure my dam’s running today though.” Looking over to Emerald he asks, “Or did you change your mind? Like Cure said, the more the merrier!”

“I’ll pass, thank you.” Turning to face the parents she explains, “I simply wanted to meet everypony since my foals will be joining you all before Solar goes off to Basic. I had spoken to Cure Wave briefly about your real estate business, but I’m sure you understand…”

Waving a hoof dismissively, Deed reassures the mare, “It’s no problem at all. Yer just doin what any parent should. We understand. It’s a pleasure to meetchya, Emerald.” Looking between the two, Deed explains, “We’re happy to help yer colt get in shape ta serve. My grandsire spent twenty years in the guard too. It’s an honorable calling, young stallion,” he finishes with a nod to Solar.

“Well… thank you. My husband tries, but they tell me Cure’s special talent is to help ponies be healthy. I must say, that sounds very helpful, given how little time he has. I think he should wait a year, but you know how foals are once they’ve made up their minds.”

Title can’t help herself. Before anypony can respond she slowly looks from Emerald to the two sharing a cushion while agreeing, “Ohh yea… we know what you mean. Once they have their hearts set on something, foals are awfully hard to dissuade. Well, we need to get back in time to go to the market, so we should probably go soon.”

Looking back to the older mare she adds, “Are you sure you don’t want to come too? After a while you hardly even realize you’re runnin. Those first dozen or so are the hardest in my experience.”

“Quite sure, thank you.” Looking to her daughter, Emerald asks, “Dawn, are you going to be okay going that far? That sounds like a lot…”

“Oh, sure dam! We ran about that far the other day no problem. I’ll see you at home in a couple hours.”

Standing, Emerald nods to everypony. “It was a pleasure to meet you all. I really can’t thank you enough for helping my son.” Giving them both an affectionate nuzzle, she turns to the door, Vines standing to walk her out.

“We’re not going that far are we?” Dawn hesitantly asks.

“We could, but no way,” Cure answers. “We can go as far as you want. As long as they stop and I hit them with a healing tap whenever they need it we don’t really have to stay together. Solar, you got a second for me to make sure you’re ready to go?” At the colt’s eager nod Cure pulls him aside to at least give him the appearance of privacy.

His sister, not wanting to be left in an awkward situation with the three unfamiliar adults, tags along.

“How are the knees doing? Did you notice a lot less pain last night?”

“Dude I can’t thank you enough. I still used ice so it wasn’t obvious that I was suddenly better, but the pain was almost nothing compared to what I’ve gotten used to. If you ever need anything from me you just say the word, bro.”

“Sure thing. Let me give you another treatment before we go today and, if they’re not fixed up completely by tomorrow on their own, they will be by the time you go home.”

After another look at Solar’s knees, Cure comes to the conclusion that his theories about earth pony healing and his magic “showing the way” might be true, even if they’re not as applicable to other tribes. He can only assume that unicorns simply cannot use their magic in the same way, much as he’s incapable of projecting magic with any range.

With another application of healing, Solar is almost completely back to what his talent indicates is full health. Assuming they don’t fix themselves in the next twenty four hours the Monday treatment will definitely finish the job. He would do it right now, but he’s not sure he’ll have enough for the full run if he expends too much beforehoof.

The run went better than the previous day. Even though Cure isn’t actively modifying Dawn’s and Solar’s bodies, the quick healing and strenuous exercise is giving them a few days’ worth of exercise each time with no fatigue. Both are doing slightly better than just the day before, and Cure can tell there is a change in their muscles, miniscule as it is, even though it’s only been one day.

Within a couple hours the group is done running, cooled off in the pond, and on the way back to the house. Solar and Dawn part ways with the rest, turning towards their home with goodbyes and the promise to be back tomorrow after dinner.

Once inside, Deed and Vines get cleaned up for the market while Title gets back to her book. Finally alone with no other distractions, Cure trots up to his room to get started on his tree.

Alright, so I want a short tree. I lack too much info to do everything in one shot but stalled projects don’t move forward. First let’s get the general shape right. Short tree… so let’s make a tomato tree.

On a whim, Cure takes a few seeds and rinses them off in the sink. Returning to his room, he pops them in his mouth. Chewing them up, he cycles his magic through his mark and visualizes the best qualities of the seeds along with the information he had scanned from the maple tree and several of the plants in the garden.

With the visual of a tree thrice his height at maturity with all of the benefits and resilience he added to the garden crops, he imagines the seed mush reassembling into a complete whole. For several minutes he watches, cycling magic and focusing on what he wants. Finally, he feels his magic use slow and sees the final product.

He takes the completed seed out of his mouth and plants it in the pot he’d set aside for it. After rinsing his mouth, watering the soil with a showerhead, and drying the pot he carries it downstairs to show Title.

“Mom! I think I made a cherry tomato tree!”

Looking up from her book, she sets it down and approaches the almost dancing colt. “Uhh I think it may need to grow a bit, honey. What all did you do?”

“Not much yet. Right now it’s just a seed that, hopefully, will grow into a tree about a meter and a half tall that fruits cherry tomatoes. Normal ones, not vaccine ones.”

“Ah, so you’re doing it in steps. That’s probably a good approach. This way if you screw up a step you can take an earlier seed and try again.”

“Uhh… I actually hadn’t considered that, but good point! I actually just figured I need to take small steps because I don’t know how to do everything at once. I figure I can get the tree shape right, then add features one generation at a time.”

“Also, you and dad, and maybe dam, don’t typically exhaust your magic every day. Now you have a good magic sink to dump it in. That way you’re straining your capacity every day and hopefully increasing it while helping me to go through iterations faster.”

“Oh, well that works too. You may wanna start a journal specifically for this. Maybe we can get you some small bins to keep the different generation seeds separate.”

“Good ideas, mom!” he cheers, nuzzling into her chest. “I think I’m in for the day, so I’m gonna give it a push.” Leaving only about a quarter of his magic in reserve, he uses everything else he has to help his plant grow. By the time he’s done the plant has germinated and is poking out of the dirt a little over two hooves with a few small leaves.

“Oof. I definitely felt that. Maybe you and dad can toss about half of your capacity in each night and morning, that way you’re still burning it off but you’re keeping some in reserve too, just in case. It’ll probably help you sleep too since it’s kinda tiring.”

“Okay, I’m fine with that. I’ll give it a little push too.”

Following Cure’s suggestion, Title puts about half of her magic into growing the tree. When she is done all of the water in the soil has been soaked up into the plant, which now stands nearly eight hooves tall. Cure notes that the central trunk is definitely thicker than it had been and the leaves are the same as a typical tomato plant.

There’s no fruit at this point, but the shape and central trunk are exactly what he envisioned for the first generation plant… or at least it will be once fully grown.

So our magic did several things here. The water and at least some of the nutrients are provided by the soil. The light and CO2 needed to create sugars and grow must have been provided ex nihilo… well, I guess not exactly, but magic somehow supplanted the need for them or provided them, then massively increased the metabolism of the plant.

The question then is… if it can do that to a flora, can it do it to fauna too? I think I’ll test that on a bug instead of myself.

“Hey mom?”

“Hmm?”

“Tell me exactly what we just did.”

“Whaddya mean? We helped the plant grow, same as the garden earlier.”

“How? In order for plants to grow they need water, nutrients, sunlight, carbon dioxide, and time.”

“Uhh… I dunno, Cure. I didn’t think about it, I guess.”

“That’s about three or four weeks of growth in about a two minute span. We obviously didn’t accelerate time itself. See this?” He asks, waving his hooves at the plant, “This is the kind of thing that drives me nuts.”

“What? That you can’t explain it?”

“No. I accept that I am currently incapable of explaining it. It’s new to me and I lack the equipment needed to even begin to try. What bugs me is that I have the sneaking suspicion that nopony has ever tried to explain it.”

“It’s magic, Cure,” she offers with a shrug.

“That’s the same excuse humans used to use for everything they couldn’t explain. They would blame magic, spirits, gods, ghosts, or any number of other supernatural things, all because they didn’t know how things worked. Ponies use simple compasses for navigation, right?”

“Yeah… why?”

“Imagine you have no idea what makes that needle point north. You just shrug and say “magic” and never try to figure it out. That’s what you just did.”

“Compasses aren’t magic.” Pointing a hoof she emphasizes, “This is.”

“Okay, fine. I accept that this is magic. I still think that possibly some of the science of it should be investigated, but for now let’s just leave it as “magic” and move on.”

“Good.”

“So… what’s the limit of it?”

“Uhh well I used about half…”

Waving a hoof and shaking his head he corrects her. “No, not “How much can you do?” I mean imagine we made this scale where a plant like this is on one side of it and on the other side is… I dunno, a mouse I guess.”

“Okay…”

“So you have a mouse on one end, a plant on the other, and all along the line you have hybrids of the two. Maybe the first mouse plant is just a green mouse. The next has is hair switched out with grass or tiny leaves. From there maybe the next doesn’t eat, it gets nutrients from photosynthesis. So forth and so on, right?”

“Yeah, I’m with ya.”

“Okay, we know we can do this,” pointing at the cherry tomato tree again, “to the tree. How far down the scale towards the mouse can we get before we cannot? With my mark I can go all the way. Yours is completely unrelated though.”

“I’m curious too, but how could we even test the scale when there’s no actual creatures in that middle area.”

“The only way I can think we’d be able to do so is if I first made the creatures… or started on one end of the scale and added characteristics and pieces from the other end until you couldn’t do anything or we reached the other end.”

“Make the creatures?”

“Watch this…”

Running into the kitchen, Cure grabs an apple and runs back to his mom. “Observe,” he says, taking a bite of the apple. Chewing a little he pauses and holds up a hoof. Tilting his head back and forth for a minute, he keeps the scan he’s visualizing locked in. Once he feels the process complete he opens his mouth and sticks his tongue out at his mom.

Title sees it. She knows she sees it, but she was not prepared for the lightning bug on the tip of his tongue to take off and fly away. Watching it float up, she sees it’s rear light up while slowly mumbling, “what the fuck?” under her breath and tracking it flying around the room.

“Cure, honey… you shouldn’t do that.”

Stopping mid-bite he pauses and looks at the apple, “What? I wasn’t gonna do anything else.” Holding it up to her he says, “I’m still eatin the apple though… wanna bite?”

Looking warily at the apple, Title slowly shakes her head no. After he pops the rest of it in his mouth she explains, “Create life like that, Cure. That ain’t natural.”

Furrowing his brows he asks, “What part of creating life isn’t natural? There’s a whole government agency dedicated to helping ponies do it.” Waving at her small bump he points out, “You’re literally doing it right now. With a whole freakin pony instead of just a little bug. Yer just doing it slower.” Shooting her a disgusted look he adds, “And closer to yer booty, ya sicko.” Pausing for a moment, his ears shoot up and he starts snickering, then faux-yells, “I learned it by watching you!” before chortling.

Scowling at the colt Title opens her mouth to argue, stops, thinks for a moment, then, unable to disagree with his point, closes it.

“Ah! Crap!”

Title, being a somewhat reasonable mare, hears Cure yell and immediately ducks for cover. Looking around she’s not sure where the lightning bug is, but it’s not taking her alive!

Puzzled at the mare’s dive, Cure looks around trying to find the threat. When nothing materializes he taps her withers and asks, “Mom? What are you doing? Is something wrong?”

“You yelled! I thought the bug was coming back… for blood or something.”

“The… lightning bug?” Pointing a hoof at the door he says, “It’s by the front door… doing nothing.”

Looking towards the door where, sure enough, there’s a soft yellow-green glow, Title turns and scowls at the colt. “Why’d you yell then?!”

“I used a lot of my magic! I was gonna go see what Lemon wanted. Argh… I totally forgot!”

Slowly standing, Title can’t help but roll her eyes.

Sighing he looks at his plant. “Well, maybe by the time I eat and rest a bit I’ll be back over half. Are you getting hungry too?”

“I’m pregnant.”

“... Good point. When will they be home?”

“Another two hours or so.”

The two awkwardly look around for a moment before an idea strikes Cure.

“Wanna play TK catch?”

“TK catch?”

“Sure, lemme grab another apple. Go ahead and get comfy, I’ll be right back.”

Sitting on her cushion, Title watches as Cure grabs another apple and sits about a meter away. “Okay. Using only TK we’re going to practice passing the apple back and forth. As we get better we’ll move further apart. Once we get good we’ll get something smaller and go again.”

“Okay. Let’s go!”

TK catch ended up being about the most fun thing Cure and Title had ever done together. It started just as planned, but once the two got a little better it quickly escalated. Within half an hour they were jumping all over the living room doing trick shots like twirling the apple in an orbit and launching it from under their chest or launching it out of their manes.

About an hour later the pair are cleaning applesauce off the walls and themselves, picking up chunks of apple, and wiping down their cushions.

“Great, now the whole room smells like apples and I’m frickin starving.”

“I bet dam and dad will notice. Wanna bribe ‘em with an apple pie? Maybe the smell from baking it will help cover this a bit.” At the mare’s doubtful look Cure shrugged, “Even if they know, how mad can you really be at somepony wavin a piece of freshly baked pie at ya? Besides, more TK practice,” he finishes with a big smile.

“Meh, good enough for me.”

Vines and Deed definitely noticed as soon as they walked in the door, but Cure was right; both parents find it damned difficult to be angry with somepony waving a slice of warm apple pie under their noses. That didn’t save Cure and Title from having to give the living room a second scrubbing after dinner, this time with supervision.

Still, Vines wasn’t actually angry at the pair and the only part that upset Deed was that he wasn’t there for it. Cure is certain that won’t be the last round of TK catch they play, though he’s betting either his mom or dad will be stopping in the store to pick up a few small balls to use instead of whatever produce is nearby.

It’ll probably be nice to have something to throw around that the pregnant mare won’t decide to eat on a whim.

It’s about an hour before sunset before Cure makes it over to Lemon’s and Amethyst’s house. Knocking on the door, Cure can hear one of the mares trotting up to answer.

“Well iff’n it ain’t our favorite wonder colt! How ya doin today, Cure?”

“Hi Mrs. Blossom. Mrs. Sweet asked me to come talk to her when I had an opportunity. Is she home from work yet?”

“Sure, sure… c’mon in. She’s upstairs gettin the fillies all sitiated fer bed. Go right on ‘n take a load off. Anythin ta drink, son?”

Walking into the living room, Cure plops down on a guest mat Amethyst fetched from a closet. “No thanks, Mrs. Blossom. We just had dinner a little bit ago, so I’m good.”

“Aww, enuf’a that Mrs this’n that,” she insists, waving a hoof. “You jus call me Amy, honey. Imma go let Sweets know yer here. Gimme a sec.” Cure watches from the living room as the purple mare trots up the stairs.

About twenty seconds later Cure hears lighter clops that could only come from tiny hooves headed down towards him. Bracing for impact as soon as he sees them, Cure catches both girls against his chest, then rolls over to pin them. “Mmm the perfect dessert!” he shouts while licking his chops over the screaming fillies. “Fresh scrubbed bellies!!! Nom nom nom PBBBBBBT!”

The two mares watch fondly as Cure play-wrestles with the girls. After a few back-and-forth minutes he agrees to an unconditional surrender when Lotus jumps on his withers and grabs both of his ears, pulling back like a set of reins. Tired from the last hurrah before bedtime, both fillies are quickly asleep “riding pony” on his back; Lotus using his mane as a pillow, Cherry using Lotus’ rear.

With peace returned to the land Cure turns his attention to the gushing mares snuggled up on a cushion. “So, presumably you didn’t just need me for my foalsitting expertise. Dam said something about a cosmetic procedure you may be interested in.”

Giving Lemon a bump, Amethyst smirks smugly at her wife. With an eye roll Lemon looks to Cure to explain. “I guess Amy was right. You really do start talkin all professional, huh?”

“It makes ponies more comfortable. I’m sure you’d be hesitant to trust somepony that could barely put a sentence together with something like this, right?”

“True… true. Well, no beating around the bush, then. Cherry stretched my belly out like an overblown balloon there at the end. I thought maybe I was gonna push a whole nursery set out with her the way I blew up. I was hoping you could help out with the marks that stayed behind when everything else went back where it belongs. I promise I’ll make it up to ya!”

Nodding along, Cure agrees to have a look. “Sure, that should be easy enough. Just… uhh,” he looks over his withers at the girls, then slowly stands while holding them still to the muffled snickers of the mares. “Yeah, I totally got this. Don’t lend a hoof or anything.”

Sliding his mat closer, Cure lays down in front of the now openly laughing mares. Giving them both a weak glare, he scoots close enough to reach Lemon. “So I’m guessin you’ve been told I can see everything, right?”

Waving her hoof dismissively, Lemon shrugs saying, “Eh, who cares. Ya see ‘em all over the place. Need me to do anything?”

“Nope, just say yes. Do I have your permission to scan and fix ya up?”

“You bet!”

Giving her a tap, he activates his mark and checks her out. She’s right; under her coat she has extensive stretch marks from the pregnancy. She also has a few common issues with her teeth, some vision loss, and an issue with her bladder that Cure can’t identify with his limited technical knowledge.

It occurs to him that of all the ponies he’s scanned this far none have any hearing loss. Lack of exposure to loud music maybe? Then again the oldest pony I’ve scanned is only 24… unless Lemon is older.

“Okay so I’ll be honest, I kinda used a lot of my magic up a few hours ago. I’ll be able to fix up your tummy no problem, but I’d like it if you stopped by on your way to work so I can address whatever’s going on with your bladder and everything else at the same time. Other than that, some cavities starting, and a little vision loss in your right eye you’re in great shape.”

“My bladder? I didn’t know anything was wrong.”

“Well that’s good, it means we caught it early. You can probably thank your daughter for that one too. She may have kicked something loose on the way out.”

Rolling to her right side, she holds onto Cure’s hoof while he works. Amethyst watches and brushes a hoof against Lemon’s coat so she can more easily see the faded white and red lines disappear and the skin tighten up.

The repair itself is pretty straightforward. The surface just needs changed slightly. Cure fixes up the area, adjusting the collagen and elastin to give her a solid, smooth, unblemished belly and restoring the skin to a healthy color, which for Lemon is a little off-white.

Cure can see both mares’ excitement grow as their smiles widen and tails start moving on their own. Lemon starts tearing up and, if it weren’t for the girls on his back he’s sure he would be at the bottom of a pony pile. Still, the fillies don’t save him from some appreciative nuzzles and a big, wet kiss between the ears.

Once the two collect themselves and Cure scoots back out of affection range, Lemon grumbles a bit, “I kinda wanted to talk to yer parents. I guess I can do that in the mornin too.”

“Let me guess,” Cure starts, “you probably have friends that would be very interested in minor cosmetic changes and you wanted to talk to my parents about finding a way for me to help them out and come up with some kinda payment idea… right?”

Amethyst nudges Lemon and gives her a “told ya” and a smug look again. Lemon rolls her eyes and looks back to Cure. “Yeah, yeah, smart as a whip, I get it. Yeah, that’s the gist of it, Cure. Is that something you would be willing to do?”

“Yep, but we need to find out if the whole biomancy thing is a legal concern first. Mom or dad will be checking with attorneys to see how much a basic consultation costs. If it’s not a problem then I’m still a little leery over this whole “nobles seeking out useful talents” thing, but apparently a number of our neighbors are looking out for me already.”

“I’m not going to refuse to legitimately heal somepony that needs it, and I’d never ask anything of you all, but for ponies that aren’t close family friends? I know that my talent is valuable. I’m not trying to get rich off of ponies wanting something small done, but nopony can work for free all the time either. I’ll have to rely on my parents to sort that part out.”

“Good! Well you just bring by any of those lil fillies chasin ya on a date and I’ll take good care of ya.” Pausing, Lemon looks at the fillies for a second. “Here, honey, I’m sure you’re done bein a sleepin pillow.”

Holding up a hoof, Cure gestures for the mares to wait a moment. “Here’s a trick for you to practice, but please keep it private for now. Have you ever thought about how we grab things with our hooves?” at both mares’ shrugs he continues, “it’s like a very short range version of unicorn levitation. The thing is…”

The mares’ eyes widen as Cherry lifts up, moves back off of Lotus’ back, and, with her side touching his, slowly lowers to the mat on Cure’s right. Lotus lifts up next, drifting to his left before being set down. “No horn needed.”

“What the… ?”
“How?”

“As long as something is within a half-hoof or so of your body you can do that too. I wouldn’t suggest practicing with the fillies at first though. Maybe start with a toy, rock, or ball. Dad used it to keep dry coming home from the bar last night, so the versatility is amazing. We used it in the garden a lot, and it’s super helpful in the kitchen too.”

“How come nopony has ever figured this out before?”

“Maybe they have and just didn’t share. I’m not sure, but it’s mainly all earth pony thing. I get the impression there’s not a lot of earth pony researchers… or even researchers interested in expanding earth pony capabilities, sadly. Here, I’ll show you some of the basics my dam and I figured out the other day…”

For the next half hour Cure walked Lemon and Amethyst through the TK field ideas he and Vines had toyed with last week, then explained some of the newer moves Title had worked on with him in the garden earlier in the day.

Both mares were fascinated by the ability that they’d never even known existed before, and, in the name of not drawing any more attention to him, promised to keep it quiet while learning how they could use it. Lemon was especially excited about the neat tricks she would eventually be able to take advantage of while working in the kitchen.

While they keep everything “age appropriate” when Cure is around, it wasn’t difficult for him to see that Amethyst had some other applications in mind. Her eyes were definitely lingering on Lemon, especially whenever the yellow mare would lay or sit in a way that let her catch a glimpse of her newly toned belly.

With a fond and affectionate goodnight, Cure bids the mares farewell and rushes home, aware he has a promise to keep to his sire, despite the lack of challenge working in the garden proved to be yesterday. Still, Cure is happy to share his talent with his parents, even in the most basic form of an extremely effective massage.

Opening the front door and trotting in, he finds his dam and sire working on some kind of planter shelving units by one of the windows while Title “supervises” from her cushion. It looks like they are almost done assembling whatever it is, with Vines holding the last shelf in place while Deed simply pushes the nails straight into the wood.

“You’re not gonna believe what I figured out!” Pausing to look the unit over he asks, “What’s this supposed to be?”

“Oh, hello honey. Your sire and I are almost done putting together some growing racks for the spices and herbs we bought at the store earlier in the week. One of the market stalls was selling these stands and I thought it would be wonderful to have those growing in the house.”

“Yep, yer dam’s right, son. We had hoped to surprise ya with it when you got home. Your dam said you seemed sure you could work on them spices like ya did everything in the garden, so we got to work on it as soon as ya left the house.”

“Huh. Nice. I figured we’d use the little pots you bought, but yeah… this should work real well. I’m a little low on magic right now, though. If I do too much more I don’t think dad’s gonna get his massage.”

“No way! I’ve been lookin forward to that all weekend. Those spices can wait ‘till tomorrow.” Looking back over his withers he asks, “So how’d it go with Lemon and Amethyst?”

Snuggling up against his mom on her cushion, Cure catches himself just before he tries to give a thumbs up. “Good. I was able to help her out, no problem, and she kinda-sorta pitched a business proposal at the same time, just like I suspected.”

Repositioning herself so Cure’s between her front legs, Title rests her head on top of his back and asks, “Oh? So she knows other mares trying to get a touch-up too?”

“Yep, but I told her it’ll depend on what we hear from an attorney whether or not we can go forward with it. I can’t imagine there’s not some kind of licensing process somepony has to go through before they can start taking payment for cosmetic procedures, whether the ability is mark-related or not.”

“There’s just too much potential to really mess up a pony for there not to be. She’ll be stopping by in the morning so I can finish her touch-up. I was too low on magic for everything.”

Nodding into his back she agrees, “Yeah… I think that’s something we’ll have to hold off on at least until you’re older. Cutie mark or not, I’m sure there’s all kinda liability things that need sorted out. Plus you’ll need to grow more so you’re not runnin out of magic during procedures.”

“Yep”, Cure agrees, “still, it’s something we should look into with the attorney. Do you know if there are ones specialized in magic law specifically?”

“Not around here. This is sounding like another Baltimare trip, Cure. We won’t be able to get an appointment for this coming Saturday. Most law firms are only open during the week. Still, we can at least get a referral, I hope. It’s not like anypony is going to call the guard if we just walk in and say, “Hey we have a magic legal issue we need more info on, who can we talk to?” These lawyers all know each other, so we’ll probably just get pointed to the right pony after a try or two.”

“Hrm. Great. Well, at least train tickets are cheap and it’s a short trip.” Looking over to his parents, Cure sees them standing the rack up. He’d first assumed it was a three-tier unit that would lean against the wall.

Instead it’s actually two three-tiered planter shelves that meet at the top in an A-shaped frame. He hadn’t noticed the other half of the unit or the support beam until his dam held them so Deed could fasten them together. They must have started work as soon as he left because, TK cheats or not, that definitely took a minute to assemble.

“Oh, wow. That’s a lot nicer than I thought. I only saw the first half and figured we wouldn’t have enough room for everything. Good call grabbin that, dam… now you’ll just need to figure out what all you want to grow in it. Thanks for helpin put it together, dad.”

“Sure thing, sport. I’m lookin forward to what you and yer dam come up with.”

“Well between the spices and my cherry tomato tree we’ll have plenty of plants inside during the winter for us to exhaust our magic on each night. It’d be great if we could all exercise that muscle and grow our magic just for the health benefits.”

“It would be wonderful, sweetie. I was thinking earlier today how nice it’s been over the last week. You don’t realize how many little aches and strains you get in a normal day until they’re just suddenly completely gone.”

“Yeah, and you all aren’t even old at all. Looking back through my memories from before, I can’t even remember how long ago it’d been since I didn’t have some lingering injury from the gym or whatnot. I can think of a few times I lifted something wrong and my back was just a wreck for a week at a time.”

“Well, enough “old man” talk… I figured something huge while I was at Amy and Lemon’s...”

“Amy?” Vines asks, raising an inquisitive brow.

“She insisted I not call her Mrs. Blossom anymore. Lemon said the same after the procedure. Honestly if I hadn’t had the fillies on my back at the time they woulda probably smothered me with affection.”

Cure feels his mom shift on top of him as she asks, “Why were the fillies on ya?”

With a smug smile, Cure explains, “They heard their big brother was downstairs. I got there right after bath time, apparently, and they used their last bit of energy beating me up. The mares were happy to sit back and watch, of course. They both conked out on my back right afterwards.”

Chuckling at the visual, Deed asks, “So yer there givin Lemon a tummy tuck while her daughters are snoozin away on yer back, huh? Son you just don’t know how to deny a female anything, do ya?”

Scoffing at the idea, Cure insists, “Of course I do. I’ve just not had a lot of reasons to lately. The fillies are cute, soft, and warm. They can snuggle on me whenever they want. Aaanyhow, my important discovery…”

“Now, this is only a theory, but I’m pretty sure I’ve determined what makes the different tribes able to do what we each can do.”

Utter silence filled the house as all the parents stare mouths-agape at what their son said.

Man, you could hear a gnat fart in here with how quiet it got… understandable though.

Hoisted up by his pits, Cure finds himself dangling in his mom’s forelegs inches from her face. “What the hay do you mean Cure? You can’t just say something like that and not explain yourself!” she shouts while shaking him a little.

“It’s in our cells, mom. Earth ponies, unicorns, and pegasi have different kinds of mitochondria in our cells. Can ya put me down, please?”

Setting him back down, Title immediately lays on him again and wraps her forelegs around him like he’s going to run away.

Sensing that the upcoming conversation is going to be exhausting, Deed flops down on his cushion across from the pair with Vines joining him a moment later.

With the colt secured and her mates prepared, Title looks down at Cure and makes a single demand. “Explain.”

“Okay, so when Lemon offered to help get the girls offa me I stopped her and instead did it myself with my TK field.”

“I bet that gotcha some confused looks,” Deed notes.

“Yep, but I explained it right after and showed them most of what we’ve learned from experimenting so far. Lemon was super excited for what it would mean workin in the kitchen. Amy looked excited for what it meant workin in the Lemon,” he laughs, getting an admonishing “CURE!” from his dam and snickers from the other two. “Anyhow, mom, you know how I dumped almost all my magic into the tree before I left?”

“Yeah…”

“I noticed when I lifted the girls that it used no magic at all. Not even the tiniest amount. Now they’re small and I only held each for a few seconds, but it still made me think…”

Jabbing a hoof into his side, Title urges Cure to get to the point.

“Ow! Hey! Fine… bully!” he grouches, letting out a huff and getting an impatient scowl back. “The TK thing is not magic. It’s a product of one of the types of mitochondria." At the blank looks on his dam and sire Cure quickly explains, "Remember my explanation about aging and how cells get slightly worse after each generation?"

"Yes, honey."
"Sure, sport."

"Virtually all of our cells each have mitochondria in them. It's just a part of the cell, you don't need to know much about it, but it's what creates energy by using up sugars and the oxygen in the air we breathe. Anyhow, back to the TK mitochondria in our cells... Who wants to guess which tribe has the most of that kind in their body?”

“I would wager us, son.”

“And you would win the prize. If I had one. You are right, of course, but it’s not quite as simple as I’m making it sound. Every pony that I’ve scanned so far has some of each type of mitochondria in our cells throughout our bodies. That’s probably why lightning doesn’t hurt us unless a pegasus juices it up. We have a tiny bit of pegasus in us already, sort of.”

“That… makes sense,” his mom agrees.

“Yep, there’s not enough there to actually walk on clouds or manipulate weather, but to redirect or channel lightning around instead of through us? Apparently there’s enough. So anyhow, everypony has some combination of the three, and the ratios seem uniform amongst earth ponies, at least.”

“I would need to scan some adults from the other tribes to see what their distribution is, but I have a pretty good idea based on what I’ve seen in the scans from Solar, Dawn, Wind Shear, and Crosswind Drift. So bear with me, because this may be a little confusing. Unicorns are the easiest, so I’ll describe them first, okay?”

“Sure, champ. Sounds good.”

“First off, take fat off the table. I can’t tell that the mitochondria in fat do anything related to the tribes’ special abilities at all. If there was a pony that had no special abilities then they would have the type of mitochondria that we have in our fat reserves. So just getting fat won’t make you powerful, unfortunately. There’s no easy win there, okay?”

After a round of chuckling, nods, and a fake whine from his mom Cure continues his explanation. “Good. Now, aside from fat, all throughout a unicorn’s body about 90% of their cells have the “base” type of mitochondria. We’ll call them “magic mitochondria” because I think that’s the primary function. When we use magic I think it’s these guys that generate more. With me so far?”

Bouncing on top of him, Title practically smashes him while yelling, “NO WAY! You found it? Magic comes from those?!?”

“Hey! Stop and let me freakin explain. It’s not that simple! Any more interruptions and I’m sending you to your room, you got it?”

Ears falling, Title nods with a pout. “Aww... fine.”

“As I was saying,” he grumbles, shooting a glare up at his smirking mom, “In 90% of a unicorn’s cells you’ll find these magic mitochondria. In the other ten percent you’ll find a pretty even split between what I’m calling earth pony and pegasus mitochondria for simplicity's sake. With me so far?”

“We’re with ya, son. Don’t keep yer mom waitin, though, or she may just pop and ya just finished cleanin up those apples.”

“Right. So like I said, unicorn are simple. Fat aside, their mitochondria are 90% magic, 5% pegasus, 5% earth pony, more or less. It’s earth ponies and pegasi that are a tad more difficult to explain without visual aids, but bear with me.”

“We follow a unicorn’s pattern in every place except in our muscles. The muscles are the key, though. That’s where the three tribes differ. The ratios are the same, but the types are changed. Again, in muscles only 90% of our cells have the earth pony type. The other 10% is, again, split between the ones I’m associating with the other tribes.”

“So our muscles are 90% earth pony mitochondria, 5% magic, and 5% pegasus?” Deed asks.

“Exactly, dad. Pegasus are, again, the same but with their type, so 90% pegasus, 5% each of the magic and earth pony type.”

“Okay, son, I’m with ya. The important question is, what’s does that mean in real life?”

“So what it means, and I’m basing this off a very limited sample and, also, very limited life experience, is that while all three tribes do get some benefit from having the different mitochondria in their cells, these mitochondria also explain how we each do the different things we do.”

“As best I can tell, the magic mitochondria are specialized for that. Again we’ll use unicorns because their mitochondria are ... HAH! Theirs are uniform. Unicorns are uniform. That’s funny.” Cure giggles a bit, getting eye rolls from the parents while Title mutters “such a nerd” from above him.

“Anyhow, a full 90% of their cells have these structures in them that I think are mostly for generating magic. But! They’re physically smaller than us, so they have less cells and, therefore, less total mitochondria in their bodies. They also have a bit more fat, I bet, since they use their horn instead of muscles. They still end up with more magic overall, though, just because while 90% of their cells are geared towards that only about 60% or so of our cells are. The divide isn’t as big as you would think.”

“For example, let’s assume we have a male unicorn that has 25% body fat, which is a smidge on the high side but entirely possible. He weighs about 140kg, so a little lighter than a female earth pony. Does that seem about fair?”

Title waves a hoof back and forth a bit. “Ehh... probably. I would actually say a little lighter, but let’s just go with your example.”

“Okay. So if we discount the fat, Mr. Unicorn has 105kg of his body dedicated towards our three numbers. 90% of that, or about 94.5kg generates magic. The other 9.5kg is split between the pegasus and earth pony types, so he’ll also have the TK field, of course, and some lightning resistance, even if both are pretty weak. I know that’s not completely off because Solar demonstrated how weak their TK was. Mine was much stronger than his even though he’s probably twice my weight and, for a unicorn, in pretty great shape.”

“I’m pretty sure that the pegasus mitochondria does give some TK also, so it’s not like the only thing it’s doing is resisting lightning. If that was the case then pegasi would have almost no TK, but I know for a fact they do; it’s just weaker than ours. You know, now that I think about it, I bet theirs are kind of a mid-point or whatever, giving them more magic too, but let’s ignore that for now since we have no data to test it with.”

“Alright,” Title nods, “I shoulda grabbed a notepad, but Mr. Unicorn is 95kg magic, 10kg which we can’t really determine the effect of.”

“Right, but if we assume that a pegasus’ mitochondria generate half the TK strength an earth pony does then even if I'm wrong it won't totally muck things up. We're making a lot of assumptions here, but let's go with that for now since it's the best we can do.”

“Fine, fine. If we're making assumptions then I'm rounding to whole numbers, though. Mr. Unicorn’s breakdown is 95kg magic, about 8kg towards TK strength, and the remaining non-fat 3kg towards whatever other stuff a pegasus would get other than TK.”

“Sounds good. Now let’s do the same numbers for dad. Now granted, dad, your numbers will change as you get stronger, but we’ll assume you’re at 18% body fat for now. You weigh about 200kg. What are the numbers like for him, mom?”

“If we do it the same way then we have 164kg dedicated to our three numbers. Oh... wow. Okay, I see where this is going. We need to break down muscle and non-muscle numbers for him since he's not a uniform-icorn," she says smirking.

“Humans were around 40/60. Without better numbers let’s just use that, even if I bet he's got more muscle mass. It'll make the math a bit easier." Getting an agreeing nod from his mom he continues, "So 40% of 200kg is 80kg. Use that for the “muscle” part. If we subtract that and the fat part out we'll get non-muscle, so 200 minus 80 is 120. Subtract another 36 of fat and... lets see... 120 minus 30. 90kg minus 6... 84kg. He has 80kg of muscle, 84kg of other, and 36kg of fat. Yep, that adds up to 200kg,” Cure explains, doing the math out loud for everypony.

“Okay, so for non-muscle that’s easy. 90% of 84kg is magic, so we’ll round down and say 75kg magic, then the other 9kg, again, for the earth pony and pegasus parts.”

“For the 9kg we'll do the same thing we did for Mr. Unicorn and break it down to 6kg of TK, 3kg of "other" or "unknown" for the non-TK pegasus part, so 75kg magic, 6kg TK, 3kg other. Got muscle part figured out?”

“Yep. 4kg towards magic, 72kg towards earth pony, 4kg again towards pegasus. If we’re putting half of pegasus in the TK box then it’s just 4kg magic, 74kg TK, 2 kg other though.”

"Have you got his totals added up?"

Going over the final tally in her head, Title announces, “Deed sits around 79kg of magic, 80kg of TK, and 5kg of other, and of course the remaining 36kg is fat. So we’ve rounded up and down a bit, but each number should be within a kg or so based on your assumptions.”

“Sounds good enough to me.”

“Uhh... son? Babe? You’ve totally lost us.”

“Oh, sorry dad. Let me break it down for ya one at a time...”
“Mr. Unicorn had 95kg magic, about 8 kg TK. He also has 3kg we're tossing under "other" and 35kg of fat for our 140kg unicorn.”
“You have 79kg magic, 80kg TK. Then we add the 5kg of other and 36kg of fat, roughly, to get 200kg.”

"Huh. So a smaller, relatively fatter unicorn has about twenty percent more magic. That feels unfair," Title points out.

“He needs it more. The unicorn has more mitochondria generating magic, but dad has about 10 times stronger of a TK field as Mr. Unicorn does. Granted dad is stronger than average, though, and that was kind of a fat unicorn in my example."

"Solar was right. A strong earth pony would rip a unicorn to pieces if they can’t use their horn. The values do change if the unicorn mitochondria contribute somewhat to telekinesis, but that would mean that they’re generating less magic too, probably. You usually don’t get it all, yanno?”

“The thing is,” Cure begins, “I’m not convinced that this is the full picture. So far I keep hearing that if you use magic you can use more magic. You’ve said it, Solar said it, I remember it being a thing that was said in most stories and in the show. Magic is compared to a muscle a lot in that way."

"If I was a betting pony I would wager that these numbers here represent potential but we still have to train to get to that point. And let's be honest, without a horn you would never, ever use all that potential. Remember on day one I said a powerful earth pony would make a unicorn drop a brick? This is what I was talkin about."

“Yeesh. Yeah, I can see it. The potential thing makes a lot more sense. There’s no way your dad, right now at least, has almost as much magic as an average male unicorn that’s been using it their whole life. Also, if it was just what you have here then a unicorn that’s never practiced could catch right up to a unicorn that has just by running and getting in shape. We know that’s not true. There’s something else going on.”

“Yep. I bet there’s a metaphysical side that mucks up those numbers a bit. There’s a whole ‘nother part of this picture I can’t even see. But you can’t deny that, even without seeing that other half of the potrait, this seems to line up pretty close to what we’ve seen. Especially the part where we definitely know that an earth pony’s TK field gets stronger with muscle, as do pegasus, though at a lower ratio."

"I imagine pegasi have lower body fat but probably weigh around what a unicorn does. If their mitochondria do some kind of three way magic, TK, whatever other split then they could end up with almost as much magic as us, maybe about a third to a quarter our TK strength and, of course, the big game changer is their flight and whatever "other" abilities we have no way to account for like manipulating water, air, and electricity."

Cure gives everypony a few seconds to process that, then throws out his real bombshell. "There is, of course, one type of pony we have not factored at all, though...”

“Uh-uh. No. If you think you’re gettin anywhere near the princess.”

With the flattest deadpan expression he can muster Cure looks at his sire. “Dad... really?”

“Ah... you weren’t gonna suggest that were ya?”

“Not in a million years, dude. I plan on avoiding her like the plague. Err... well, I would probably run to a plague now, just to help out, but you get my point. Think of this instead... how did I upgrade my eyes and add our heat sensors?

“Uhh… with your mark?” Deed ventures.

Though she's been sitting by quietly, it's Vines that realizes exactly what he's getting at. “He’s using ideas from other places, honey," she explains while setting a hoof on her husband's side. Waving to the colt with the other she looks back to Cure. "He can combine traits from different sources, that’s what he’s getting at. Is that right, sweetie?”

“Bingo, dam. You hit the nail right on the head. My ability lets me take properties of one thing and mix it with another. I’ve never seen any evidence it taps into the metaphysical, but technically speaking it is a metaphysical ability as there’s not a physical “thing” I’m using to make it happen.”

“It’s possible that I could try to make a hybrid mitochondrion that would have some mix of the three tribes’ mitochondria’s properties in it and, if I’m right, may also get their metaphysical properties. I bet that’s what alicorn mitochondria does.”

“Woah woah woah, son. That’s the kinda stuff you don’t play around with right there. What did I tell you about the whole horn and wings thing?”

“Umm… something about messing with powers beyond my ken? I don’t remember exactly, but you’re working under the assumption that this “super” mitochondria is the only difference between a normal pony and an alicorn. We all know that’s not the case.”

Shaking his head, Deed almost shouts back, “No we don’t! You have yer theories, son, but sometimes those aren’t right. Unless there’s a whole mountain of hippogriffs that turn into fish out there you don’t know for sure what’ll happen.”

“I’m not sure fish mountain existing matters here, dad.”

“Your sire’s right, sweetie. I don’t know if this is a good idea.”

“Look,” Cure starts, holding his hooves out placatingly, “and I’m not just ‘throwing a flag’ here,” he says while looking at his mom, “but what’s the worst that could happen? Do you really think I would just suddenly sprout wings and a horn because I changed a tiny part of my cells to an improved version? That’s ridiculous, and even if it did happen I could just hide the extra parts. It honestly wouldn’t make that big of a difference to me. Another pony? Yeah, definitely, but I could literally take those extra parts off like you change pants. Uhh… if you all wore pants, that is.”

“I say let him try,” Title starts, “unless you two can come up with a legitimate reason why you think he shouldn’t other than “he may suddenly get way more powerful” or something. That’s a good reason TO do something, not to NOT do it.”

“Also,” Cure adds, “even if that were the difference, aside from appendages, between a normal pony and an alicorn, that means all my theories about them being some kind of demigod or whatever are completely wrong. Instead they would just be, for lack of a better word, mutants or hybrids… not “higher beings” of some kind.”

“That’s a good point, Cure. Maybe it’ll give us some answers to that question at the same time.”

Seeing the uncertainty on his parent’s faces, Cure makes a suggestion. “How about a compromise?”

“I’m listenin…”

“I will try it on one cell now and see if it works at all. It may just kill the cell, you know, and render this whole argument moot. If it works then every day I will change just half a percent of my cells’ mitochondria. I’ll do it before breakfast, that way you are all there for and after the change to make sure nothing weird happens. We’ll go the slow and steady route so that if there’s a change of any kind I’ll have plenty of magic left over to start converting everything back to normal.”

“I dunno, honey… I’m worried somepony will notice somehow.”

“Dam, if it were that easy to notice something odd about somepony then I wouldn’t keep bringing up changelings as a threat. If a friggin emotivore bug pony can walk around and not be noticed I’m pretty sure a pony with better mitochondria won’t exactly stand out in a crowd. Are there mitochondria police runnin around checkin everypony’s DNA that I’m unaware of?”

Snorting on top of the colt, Title just shakes her head. “I’m pretty sure there’s not, but if you keep joking like that you’re gonna tempt fate, ya know.”

“Eh… I believe there may be a fate mechanic in a magical world, but I reject the idea that it’s completely set in stone. If anything, I could see it moving pieces to increase the odds of a given result, but even that sounds bunk because it implies that there’s this mystical all-powerful force that gets to choose who the winners and losers are in any given conflict. Real life doesn’t work like that, and if it did then we’d all just be slaves to fate’s whim, never actually having free will of our own.”

“Wow… that was kinda deep, son. An interestin philosophy too. Ya oughta write that down in yer journal or somethin in case somepony writes a book about ya some day.”

“Sure thing, dad. I’ll put it right next to my list of non-pony species ranked by sex appeal, that way everypony dismisses me as nuts if they ever find it.”

Leaning down beside his head, Title asks, “You find other creatures attractive?” with a curiously raised brow.

“Uhh, sort of I guess? Some have attractive qualities, at least. Not in a sexually appealing kind of way, more like “Oh that’s pretty” if ya know what I mean. Of course my only exposure to inequine races is through a medium that we know is inaccurate. We look totally different from the stories, after all.”

“I explained this to dam the other day, but again I remind you, everything was simplified to better appeal to children, so nothing was remotely anatomically correct, or even possible I suspect. They had massively disproportionately sized eyes and heads, wrong facial shape, smaller stature, shorter bodies, longer legs on some ponies, no visible musculature except for comedic purposes or during exertion, etcetera.”

“Hmm. You’ll have to find a way to show us some day,” Title suggests.

“You bet. I’ll be filtering what I show you though, just like I don’t name names. Words are one thing, names or showing you ponies or events from the future… that strikes me as a Bad Idea, fate being a force or not.”

“Ooh… capital letters again. Okay, Cure babe, just what you think is safe,” she agrees, laying her head back in his mane.

Giving his dam and sire time to think about his proposal, Cure simply relaxes under the pink mare. It’s amazing to him how even almost a hundred pounds on his back isn’t crushing at all, just a comforting warmth. Then again, with bullshit magic strength and telekinesis Cure could probably lift her up with little effort, thrice his size or not.

Tired of the dithering, Cure finally asks, “So… try the mitochondria thing now before I go into puberty where, if it works, will probably do me the most good, or wait until I’m an adult without you guys around to see what happens? I’m not sure I can just go through life without ever trying, so really… what would you all prefer?”

Letting out a deep sigh, Vines’ ears and tail fall at the realization that Cure is right. Even if they said no today then, at some point, possibly when nopony is around to help, he’ll probably try it either way. At least the three of them are here, ready to render aid or get him to a clinic if something catastrophic happens that he can’t immediately fix.

Seeing his wife’s reluctant agreement, Deed speaks up. “Fine, son. Just let us know if it works or not and if ya feel any different.”

“Of course, pa. If it does work we’ll all benefit from this anyhow. I think you’re all overreacting either way, given how small of a change this truly will be. I don't think you grasp how insignificantly small the scale is here.”

Focusing on a single cell in his right hoof, just in case, Cure tells his magic to make the change necessary to the mitochondrion to get the benefits of all three tribes’ copies of the cell structure. With only one part of one cell being changed it takes no magic at all and is done in seconds.

“There. Done. See?” he waves from under his mom, “no wings shootin out my back, no horn burstin outta my skull… nothin is happening at all,” he says.

All four ponies quietly wait and look around a little warily, silently hoping the roof isn’t about to lift off, a light isn’t going to shoot down from the sky, or any other nonsense is about to go down.

With a raised brow and a smirk, Cure looks between his dam and sire and jokingly asks, “See? What could possibly go wrong? I’ve got this under control. It's all going according to plan,” he declares while laughing to the horrified looks on all three parents.

Still chuckling, he waves his hooves to calm them down while explaining, “No, seriously. I’m fine. The cell seems to be doing great and I don’t feel different at all, which is not surprising given that I literally changed like a tenth of a trillionth of my body. I did the same, roughly, as moving a piece of grass a few centimeters to the right would do to the planet.”

All three parents roll their eyes, nearly in concert Cure notes, and let out an anxiety-releasing sigh.

“Alright, I’m going to try a half percent now. Everypony prepare... for nothing to happen!” he shouts while waving his hooves in the air dramatically, to the complete lack of amusement from his folks.

Going slow, Cure plans out the change as he described. Focusing in the same area again, just in case again, he uses the modified mitochondrion as a template and tells his magic to replicate the result in his right hoof area until a half of a percent of his body is converted.

If the damn thing explodes at least it’ll just blow my foot off, worst case scenario.

Instructions given, Cure holds out his right leg for everypony to see and lets his magic go to work. Watching with bated breath, all three parents keep a wary eye on their son's leg. It’s several minutes later when he finally announces that he’s done and, once again, all four ponies wait to see if anything happens.

“Well… I don’t hear the local guard lining up for a charge outside,” he snarks, “so unless you all have further worries, I think this at least indicates that nothing is going to go immediately catastrophically wrong. All the affected cells are here in my hoof,” he says, holding his right hoof in the air, “so even if it just flat out fell off it would be a simple, if slow and annoying, fix to get back to normal.”

“I’ll stick to this leg for a couple days and, if nothing happens, I’ll start doing a random distribution throughout my body, brain excluded, until we can see some real results.”

“Eh, they’re just worried, Cure. We talked about this just the other day. Forcibly changing yourself isn’t something normal ponies ever consider.”

“Yeah, son… this isn’t exactly somethin they cover in school, ya know?”

“I bet it is if you go to a school specifically for magic.”

“A valid point,” his mom agrees, “but also not something we would have ever had any reason to do.”

“As long as you’re not hurting yourself or making yourself look strange, I guess I’m okay with it sweetie. Just please say something if you feel anything at all, no matter how small.”

“Sure thing, dam. Yanno, I wonder if this hoof could stand on a cloud now. Shame I don’t have a pegasus confidant to try that out with.”

“Ya think it’d work?”

“Umm… maybe? I dunno, there’s probably some cutoff number. Less and you fall through, more and you’re good to go. We don’t actually even know if this works yet, so there’s no way to find out. I can’t really ask a random pegasus to bring me a cloud to test it on either because if it worked there would be some questions asked. If I had a horn I could say I’m testing the cloud walking spell, but no dice there.”

“Well… let us know if you start noticing you have more magic or something, Cure,” Title says. “If that’s something you could do for anypony I’d be really interested in it too. Other than walking on clouds, what are you expecting to see from it anyhow?”

“We can make some guesses, but we probably won’t know for a month or more once I have a decent number converted. If it works perfectly then more magic capacity, maybe regeneration speed too. Also, like I said, cloud walking. If the earth pony mitochondria are responsible for TK field strength being higher in earth ponies then I’d also expect stronger TK once I convert the cells not in muscles,” he explains.

“Oh?” Title starts, “Did you figure out how the TK field works too?”

“A pony’s body seems to act kind of like a mesh network from what I’ve seen so far,” he starts before he realizes they’ll have no idea what a mesh network is. “Umm, that’s a network where all the parts are interconnected, so in the case of our TK field, even a muscle in your back legs adds to the strength of your field in your front legs.”

"There is some accounting for how much surface area of your body is against an object, though. Like if you leaned your shoulder in you may be able to utilize your whole field, but if you just put a couple hooves on something there's less surface area contact, so you may only get like half the full field strength. We'll have to experiment some to verify that."

“It also means that, and this just occurred to me, even though all the converted cells are in my right hoof, if I’m correct and there were enough new cells there, any part of me could touch clouds because of the 5% “pegasus mitochondria” cells throughout my body acting as, essentially, a whole. It wouldn't just be my hoof that can touch a cloud, though the image of me dangling from the sky by one leg is kinda amusing.”

“Ah. So how exactly did you figure all this out? I know you scanned that Drift filly several days ago, so...”

“Right, I guess I never explained how it went with Lemon and Amy. Well, like I said, I noticed I wasn’t using any magic with my TK, so I paid real close attention to their scans when they started consciously using TK for the first time.”

“Uh huh.”

“Well I could tell that there was a physical reaction. The cells were burning more glucose and oxygen and I could visibly see something happening. Nothing has labels, sadly, but that led me to the conclusion that the mitochondria may be involved somehow.”

“Makes sense…” she says as Cure can feel her nodding on top of him. His dam and sire are just listening from the cushion across from them.

“From there I looked into the scans I have from the other tribes and it didn’t take long to pick up the pattern. It’s the main thing amongst our cells that really jumps out as obviously different and it’s an “energy” related part of cells, so it all jives just a little too well to ignore.”

“Huh. That is logical. So you’re basically capable of making somepony an alicorn.”

“Ehh, in that one way sort of yes, but if I had to use a term then there’s a difference between an “ascended” alicorn and a purely biological one anyhow. I won’t have whatever other genetic or metaphysical differences there are between them and us.”

“Maybe her longevity isn’t completely biological.”

“It could be. I don’t know how, yet, but if it isn’t then that’s just another point for the whole “higher being” argument and another reason to keep my head down.”

Everypony seems to be in deep thought. For several minutes nopony speaks up and the weight on his back is making Cure start to feel kind of sleepy.

Trying to stave off sleep, Cure finally asks, “So… now that we’ve covered that little tidbit,” getting a round of snorts, “what plans do we have this week? Anything special going on? I don’t think I have anything really urgent to worry about for the next few days, though I wouldn’t mind checking out that rune book the library had. I have no idea what runes do, just guesses, but Mr. Binder made it sound promising.”

“I’m actually a little interested in the rune thing too, honey,” Title starts, “Unicorns can just work on them with their horns but we would have needed tools, now I’m not so sure that’s necessary.”

Surprising Cure, it’s his dam that seems the most excited at the idea. “Oh! We may be able to charge the crystals! You think we can figure out how to make them too?”

“Eh, I hate to be a downer but I’m betting charging a crystal and doing whatever is needed to make the runes work are very different things. If there’s a series of spells that unicorns use to make ‘em it’s probably more involved than just pushing power in.”

“Aww… yeah probably,” Title pouts into Cure’s mane. “Well there’s small hobby kits they sell in the bigger cities, but I don’t think I’ve seen anything in the stores around here.”

“We can check it out next Saturday, son. It’s shapin up to be a busy day, it seems.”

“Yeah… sorry I’m gonna end up monopolizing yer Saturday, everypony. I’ll make it up to ya, promise.” After a round of reassurances that they don’t mind, Cure asks, “We are still on for the zoo, right? I’ve been really lookin forward to that.”

“We are, but don’t get any big ideas, mister. You check with us before you try anything.”

“Yes, dam.”

“Is there any specific animal you’re interested in, Cure?”

“I’m not sure. There’s a lot of really amazing things that aquatic animals can do that you don’t really find in mammals, but I doubt there’s going to be a lot of that there. Someday I’ll need to hit up an aquarium for that stuff, if one exists. It’s actually the smaller things I’d be interested in… the snakes and bugs mostly. Bugs go through generations a lot faster than other animals, so I would expect some highly specialized abilities you wouldn’t normally see in bigger creatures.”

“Oh? I guess I should have asked if there were specific abilities you’re looking for instead, huh?”

“Yeah, I guess. I’m really just interested in creatures with unique traits. For example, I know there’s snakes with the ability to launch venom… I’m also really interested in the muscle and skeletal structures in larger cats. Creatures from other habitats would be neat to get a look at too, especially super cold or hot areas.”

“Any particular reason why?”

“Eh… I just want to be able to see the world someday, and knowing what’s out there and how it’s adapted to its environment can only help. Plus who knows, maybe there’s some critter that has something that has some weird capability like really fast healing or something like that. Like Hydras… do they regenerate when they’re hurt? They did in myths. That could be really useful for my bacta tank idea.”

“Bacta tank?” Deed asks, glancing at the snickering Vines.

After Cure shares his “healing pod” idea, as well as his dam’s prank, it’s his mom that answers his original question. “I… don’t really know, Cure. I’ve never looked into what weird abilities monsters like those have.”

“I’ll tell ya what, mom.” Cure pauses, and with a mischievous smirk says, “One day when I’m ready, I’ll go find one and bring it home for dinner, how’s that sound?”

All three parents recoil at the thought of eating hydra meat.

“CURE! You will NOT bring one of those anywhere around here!”

Barely holding back a laugh he asks, “Not even if she’s really cute?” and finishes with a quick "ba-dum-tis", chuckling afterwards.

Sputtering, Vines can’t come up with a response. His sire snorts and starts laughing beside her, and Cure can feel his mom shaking with concealed laughter above him.

“I didn’t realize you were so biased, dam. I mean, they have multiple heads. Maybe they have multiple parts in other places too. Think of how many grandfoals you could have in just a few months!”

Cure can’t hold back the laugh at his dam’s horrified, mouth-hanging-open look. Of course his mom and sire joining in don’t help and the look quickly turns into a scowl before she huffs and turns away, shunning the group.

“Ahh that was corny. Good times. Well as much as I love teasing dam, it’s getting late and I definitely need a shower before bed. Dad, I think you’ll have to get that massage wherever you plan on sleepin. You’re a good bit larger than the ladies and I ain't haulin yer heavy butt up those stairs.”

“Sounds good to me, son! I’ll be gettin ready for bed while yer cleanin up.”

“You mean while I’m cleaning him up!” Title shouts while tightening her grip on Cure. “Vines got ‘em yesterday, he’s mine ta baby tonight!”

Yet again, Cure lets out a defeated sigh and accepts his fate as he’s hoisted up by his mom and set on her withers.

“Wait!!!” he yells, causing Title to freeze again. “We didn’t tell ‘em about the Cure Tree Mark oh-point-one!”

With an eye roll, Title quickly rattles off a summary, “Water the soil, dump half yer magic in before bed. This one’s just regular cherry tomatoes but on a tree. He’ll need bins for each generation’s seeds and a journal for notes. Vines, babe, can you do your thing and make sure the soil is good? Imma scrub the brat before he comes up with any other excuse to get away from me.”

With a slightly confused nod Vines and Deed take a look at the short tree while Title disappears up the stairs, Cure token-grumbling on her withers.

An hour later Cure and Title are scrubbed, dried, have brushed all the things, and are walking into the parents’ room. Title doesn’t hesitate to jump on the bed and snuggle on top of Vines. Part of his mind still mumbles “weird” but seeing the loving casual interaction brings a happy smile to his face. His sire’s already sprawled out next to the mares, clearly eager to find out firsthoof how good a “Cure Massage” actually is.

“So dad, anything specific you want me to focus on?”

“Nope, just the same treatment as the ladies, son. That is, if you’re not too tired. I know you used a lot of magic today.”

“Eh, I’m fine for this, at least. Once I knock yer sorry rear out I’ll be goin to sleep right after.”

“Ha! Bring it on, sport! Yer pa can take it!”

With the mares watching, Cure hops up on the bed, climbs on his sire, and gives him a more vigorous massage than he had his moms. Deed is a good hoof or so wider than either of the mares and has quite a bit more muscle mass on him. He’s only about a hoof taller, so about four feet at the withers as opposed to around forty four inches tall, but weighs a lot more than the ladies do.

Cure actually has to cycle a little magic while working on the shoulder and hip muscles so Deed can really feel it. If it weren’t for his ability to cheat by directly relaxing the muscles and heating his hooves he probably would’ve struggled to give a decent massage.

Fortunately, Cure believes that if you’re not cheating, you’re not trying, so the mares get to witness Deed grunting and moaning in bliss while Cure grinds every inkling of tension he had in his back and hips.

By the time Cure hops down to get the neck muscles, Title has trotted off to fetch a washcloth for the drool.

“C’mon dad. You’re not even asleep yet!”

“feelzgood”

“Don’t be slobberin all over the bed, seriously… I know it’s relaxing but yer actin like mom was while that pie was bakin earlier, I swear.” Poking his sire in the shoulder he chides the stallion, “Don’t let your son see ya droolin like a preggo mare, dad. Stallion up, dude.”

Ignoring the “I heard that!” from his returning mom, Cure works his way up the stallion’s neck, moving in small circles while working away from the spine. Deed is out cold before Cure even finishes with the muscles at the base of his ears. Both mares are giggling at their husband until Cure points out that they didn’t last much longer themselves.

Not one to leave a patient half taken care of, he still massages his sire’s shoulder and leg muscles. Cure figures his dad may not remember the whole massage in the morning, but he should sleep through the night and wake up feeling like a million bucks.

Seeing Cure done with his task, Title climbs off of Vines’ back. With goodnight kisses and nuzzles all around she lays on her side with her back pressing against Deed. Vines curls around Cure like a momma cat and, after a quick hormone-check scan and some motherly grooming, the whole family soon drifts off to sleep.

Chapter 43: Hearth's Warming Eve

Wednesday, December 24th, 908 AB (3 days later)

Cure comes to wakefulness and finds himself in the middle of a three parent pile and completely covered by a blanket. He and Vines are on their right sides with his back against her tummy, dock pressed against her teats, and head resting sandwiched between her forelegs.

Pony teats, when not lactating, aren’t really treated in any special way. They lack the cultural significance and sexual associations that human mammaries gained, probably because they aren’t front and, nearly, center in any face to face interaction. They’re also normally very small; barely noticeable, really. Still, they are a somewhat intimate area due to their proximity to their crotch even if all of that is routinely visible to everypony.

Public feeding of a foal is culturally acceptable, though some mares do use a blankie since they are basically laying on their side with a leg hiked. Unlike horses, Equus foals are not born tall enough to easily reach their dam’s udders, though within a few days they are strong enough to sit up and lean against a back leg if there’s a reason the dam can’t lay down.

As the months have passed since his memories have come in, Cure’s re-acclimated to having everything out there basically all the time, so rather than be weirded out or anything, he happily accepts the tight embrace for exactly what it is; a dam holding her baby close to her body to share warmth and love.

Deed is just in front of Cure facing him and Vines, body going the same direction, thankfully. He’s a little lower in the bed, so Cure has to really resist the urge to reach out and give him a snoot boop since messing with somepony when they’re sleeping is a total dick move, and one of the few things that, under most circumstances, fully warrants a whoopin. The other big “no no” for him is somepony messing with his food, of course.

Title somehow ended up laying crosswise with everypony else. Her swollen baby bump is serving as a hat for his sire with her back legs running down his back and tail coming up over her right haunch and covering most of his neck. She’s also serving as a pillow for Vines with the green mare’s head and neck resting on his mom’s left foreleg, the right one draped over top and her hoof just a couple centimeters in front of his face. She’s the only one not fully covered by the blanket with her face poking out for fresh air. Thankfully, she hasn’t given the entire family a collective Dutch Oven. Yet.

Drifting back to sleep while thinking about his parents’ presents, Cure doesn’t realize his excited wiggle is rousing his dam.

Sighing, she gently teases, “Somepony has a wiggly booty,” while rolling onto her back, dragging Cure along for the ride. She looks up, plants a kiss on Title’s neck, then drags Cure up her chest enough to nuzzle into his mane. “Good morning, sweetheart. Happy Hearth’s Warming Eve.”

Cure happily leans back into the nuzzle, grabs her forelegs, and wraps them even tighter around himself. “Happy Hearth’s Warmin, dam. Love you,” he says, tail wagging below him. “Wanna go make breakfast then wake up the slackers to open presents?”

“I’m awake,” Title sighs. “Happy Hearth’s Warming Eve babe, honey.”

“Yup, me too,” Deed yawns out, leaning closer to plant a smooch on Vines’ and Cures’ faces. He rolls to his barrel and crawls to lay partially on Title, first planting smooches on her baby bump, then kissing all over her neck and face, despite her efforts to push him away.

“Argh! Get offa me ya damn horse!”

“Aww, I love you too, babe! Happy Hearth’s Warmin!” With one last big slobbery kiss on an eyebrow, Deed dismounts the mare and climbs off the bed, dragging the blanket on his withers so everypony’s exposed to the chilly air. He drops it off to the side with a smirk, then hightails it out of the room towards the potty when he gets three nasty glares sent his way.

“Ugh, there’s always at least one of those kinda ponies, isn’t there?” Cure complains. “Well come on, dam. Let’s go see how naughty or nice we’ve all been.” Cure carefully rolls off his dam, turns around, plants a big kiss on her cheek, then repeats Deed’s performance with his mom, much to her consternation and Vines’ amusement.

After horning up and addressing the urgent needs he runs down the steps and gets all the warming crystals started, then gets the oven and stovetop preheating. Cure gets water started for tea, then lays out an entire loaf of bread he’d bought just for this on a couple baking sheets. The recipe is as fast and as easy as it gets, so it’ll be ready right about when the slower parents come down.

After tossing a couple sticks of butter in a bowl he mixes in brown sugar, cinnamon, a bit of vanilla extract, and just a dash of nutmeg. Once the spread is thoroughly mixed he coats the bread, making a poor man’s French Toast, and slides it into the oven, then floats four plates out of the pantry along with some mugs and a cup for his milk.

After hitting the bowl with a cleaning cantrip he cracks six eggs and drops a dollop of butter in a pan to get it melted and coat the bottom and sides. While that warms up he cuts up some spinach and peppers, then, with a whisk in hoof, he beats the eggs up and, once the butter gets melted enough, pours them into the skillet.

Deed is the first to arrive, stopping by to give his son a kiss on his head just above the horn. “Smells good, sport. Whatchya making? I smell cinnamon in there,” he says, cracking the oven door to peek in.

“Yup, just some basic cinnamon toast and some scrambled eggs with spinach and peppers, pa. It’s a quick and easy, perfect for when everypony wants a snack to hold over until something a little more filling is ready.”

“It smells wonderful, sweetie,” his dam calls from the bottom of the stairs. “I’ll finish the eggs, you get some trivets for the toast.” Title comes in right behind her and gives him a peck on his cheek before sitting down at the table.

Cure passes the spatula off to his dam and digs in a drawer until he finds four trivets, laying them out on the table. He peeks in on the toast from beside his dam and finds that it should be in just a moment, so he waits patiently while snuggling into her side. “Love you, dam.”

Vines bends over to plant a quick peck on his head. “Are you okay, sweetie? You look a little down.”

“Yeah… I’m fine. This time of year comes with a lot of memories, ya know?” he explains, brushing a tear off his cheek.

Vines wraps her left foreleg around him and smushes him into her side. “I’m sure it’s not easy, honey. You just stay with your dam all day, okay? I’m right here for you, baby.”

“I know,” he says, nuzzling her side.

After a quiet, but quick breakfast the family is gathered by the tree. The family had gotten comments from almost every visitor that had stopped by over the past week, as the presents Cure got for his parents were all physically large. He’d had the sense to not label the packages, though, since he didn’t want to embarrass his parents when the packages with his name on them were smaller.

He didn’t really want his parents to buy him anything at all, and he’d insisted that every bit they earn should be spent on either themselves or on Title’s foal that’s due in about a month. Still, the foal part of his brain was very excited about the prospect of opening a couple presents, even if he couldn’t think of a single thing he thought he needed.

With three eager parents watching he started off with the smallest of the items under the tree, or rather, in it. An envelope, to be specific, poking out of one of the lower branches. “What’s this?” he asks, as he opens it and finds a half dozen slips of paper and several other sheets folded up. “Tickets?”

“Read em, sport,” his sire calls, rolling his eyes at the colt.

“Wonderbolts?! You got me Wonderbolts tickets! NICE!”

“Yer dam went around ‘n talked to the parents of yer friends to find out how many would be willin ta go to one of the shows. Not everypony’s okay bein offa the ground like that, after all. Be sure to thank Mrs. Dance next time ya see her; she’s the one that talked ta Glacial’s dam ta make sure she’ll be available.”

“He’s right, sweetie. Diamond said that little Ferric is just terrified of heights, so she won’t be going along. Delta Coast and Sapphire Sprint also, unfortunately. You should have seen Heavy when his mom talked to him about it,” she finishes with a giggle. “He looked a little wary but didn’t want to leave you alone with a bunch of fillies.”

“HA! Well these are for their spring opener in May, so if he’s really worried about it maybe Solar will be back and can come along instead. What’s all the other paperwork in here?”

“That’s what we thought too, honey,” Title explains. “You’ll find a hotel voucher in there too, along with some papers from the rail agency that can be redeemed for tickets. Other than food we’ve got it all planned out. Your sire volunteered to play chaperone.”

“That’s awesome! Thanks a bunch, everypony!” he shouts, giving each a big hug and a kiss. “Umm… I’m not sure what to have you all open first. I kinda got two ‘sets’ of gifts… a set for the family and then something for each of you. Wanna do the family ones first?”

“That sounds wonderful, sweetie… who should open what?”

“Oof… I’m not sure. Dad, how about we let the ladies do these, okay?” he asks, getting a nod and a “go ahead” wave from his sire. “Alright, mom, you come open this one,” he says, pointing to the taller, but narrower of the two, “and dam, you take this one, okay? Now try to open them at the same time because I think once one of you sees what’s in there you’ll know what both are.”

Vines moves into position next to the shorter, but bigger box while Title looks over, standing next to hers, ready to tear it open. Cure climbs on his sire’s back to enjoy the show as the pair nod to each other and grab the paper, tearing the front panels off at the same time. The boxes that the appliances come in are very plain, brown boxes, but each one still has a picture of the contents inside of it, so they both know exactly what they’re looking at as soon as they tear enough away.

Their reactions are identical. Cure gets to see both of them cover their mouths with a hoof at the same time, then look to make sure the other has what they expected.

“Oh sweetie! You spent too much! You shouldn’t have done all that!” He has to hold in a snort because his dam, while saying that, is running a hoof along the box and staring lovingly at the unit like somepony’s about to come take it away.

“Hey wait a second, why’d you have me open the refrigerator?” Title asks, shooting him a scowl.

“C’mon now, mom,” he starts rolling his eyes and, with a wave at the units, asks, “which of those two are you gonna use more?”

“Hey! Well… yeah, I guess. Wow it’ll be really nice to finally have a real refrigerator though! I’ve never had one before…”

“Wow, very nice, son. I figured we’d hold off ‘till we moved, but if yer sure ya don’t mind I think ya made yer moms, and me, of course, very happy.”

“Perfect! I couldn’t ask for anything better for Hearth’s Warming. Don’t forget, I have a smaller present for each one of you too,” he reminds them, motioning to the three packages.

“Well ya gotta have a turn first, champ. Go grab ya a box over there,” Deed insists, waving at the tree. Cure hops down and grabs one that’s about half as big as he is. Turning to face the parents, who have gone back to snuggle on his side, he peels the paper off and nearly falls over at what he finds.

“NO WAY! They have these here?!?” he shouts, tail wagging so hard his back hooves are coming off the floor. Cure launches at his startled sire like a rocket, the stallion barely catching him before he realizes his son has negated his mass, to his relief. “Thank you so much! Oh I can’t believe I can finally have coffee again!” he shouts, planting kisses all over his parents’ faces.

“What do you mean by ‘they have these here’ Cure?” Title asks. “You had coffee when we went to Canterlot.”

“Right, but this is an actual Mr. Coffee! That’s exactly the same brand as the unit from my memories! This one’s a bit of an older model and runs on magic, but, ya know, pony technology and all. Here, look!” he says, projecting an image of the coffee maker Edward had, then changing the image to show Ed putting the filter in, adding water, and pouring the grounds in.

“Nice! Reusable filter included! Oh this is so awesome! Thanks everypony! Now I need to grow some beans and figure out how to roast ‘em. I can’t wait! OH! Do you think that bakery in town sells beans? I know they have coffee there!”

Vines reaches out and grabs the colt, pulling him to her chest and nuzzling into him. “Sweetie! Take a breath! You still have other packages to open.”

“Right! Right! Okay, I’m good. Oh man, I’ve been DYING for some coffee though!” Pausing, he corrects himself, “Okay, maybe that’s not the best way for me to say it, but you know what I mean.”

“Stars have mercy on us if you’re this energetic without it…” Title sighs.

“Wait! You need to open your presents! Here!” he excitedly shouts, grabbing the three boxes and passing the right one to each parent and sitting in front of them to watch their reactions.

The three open their packages at the same time finding three sets of fancy looking faux leather saddlebags. Each one is emblazoned with the parents’ cutie mark in the middle of each side, then the other threes’ marks across the bottom with room for more.

They’re very nice bags, but not something any of the parents expected. He sits and quietly watches with a mischievous smile the whole time they’re looking them over. Title spots the look and narrows her eyes at the colt. “Okay, we’re missing something here. Is there something inside these?” she asks, peeking inside and finding them empty.

“Nope, not a thing, I don’t think,” he answers, grin widening and booty shaking more vigorously.

“Okay… Well, they’re very nice, honey. Thank you.” she says.

“I still think you should check inside to make sure there’s nothing in there, mom. Ya never know, right? Go ahead and reach on in there,” he says, waving a shooing hoof, “try the left one.”

“OH MY STARS!” Vines yells, startling the other two and drawing their attention. She’s reaching into her bag, but her leg is disappearing from the knee down.

“You’re not serious!” Title shouts, flipping her left saddlebag open and sticking her hoof in, experiencing the same effect. “Sun and stars, Cure! How much did you spend on these?!”

Sat on his haunches he waves both forehooves side to side, “Not as much as you’re thinking; those are their basic units and only one side has the enchantment. They’re not cheap, of course. More expensive ones have more security features, or are bigger, but I figured we aren’t transporting diamonds or anything, so there’s no reason to get the deluxe models.”

Between the appliances and the saddlebags he’d spent just under twenty thousand bits, but he’d also made nearly ninety grand, by his estimate, over the last two months. Much of that was due to the increase in his prices for the deaging treatment, something that was bringing him anywhere from five to twelve and a half grand every week. He knows that’s a once and done procedure, at least for a while, so eventually that well will dry up, but not for a very long time at two to five ponies per week.

“Damn, son… I wish ya hadn’t spent that much on yer pa, but I sure do appreciate it. That’ll be super helpful fer stayin organized. How much can this thing hold?”

“Each bag can hold ten times its physical volume. Dam, that should save you from having to use that cart for most things you go into town for, at least as long as they can fit in the opening. If you put something in there and reach back in you should get that same feeling you get when you’re using an enchanted crystal. You just pull the item back out.

“For your two,” he says, motioning to his mom and sire, “you’ll want to maybe put associated files inside of a color coded folder or something, that way you can reach in and get a visual for ‘green folder’ or whatever and get the right set of papers. Customers’ cutie marks may be as good of an identifier as color, so you’ll wanna experiment some.

“Mom, I’m sure that’ll be super helpful for both you and dam when my siblings are littles and ya gotta carry a bunch of extra stuff around.”

“I don’t know what to say, Cure… this is way beyond anything I thought I’d ever own,” Title softly says, looking in her bags.

Walking up to the pink mare, he wraps her in a hug and plants a gentle kiss on her cheek, softly saying, “Mansion in the sky, ma. We’re just getting started. You’ll see one day, I promise,” with a nuzzle.

Returning the love she nods along. “I’m really starting to believe that wasn’t an exaggeration.”

“Good! I’ll definitely need help getting us there. I’ll tell ya, getting crap like this done when you’re a foal is a pain in the rear. Thank Harmony that Cutie Marks are an acceptable form of identification because the bank teller looked ready to toss me out the door when I told her I needed a certified check.”

“How did ya pull this off, sport? I know ya didn’t order all this when we went there before my grandsire’s.”

“So I got the idea when I went with Solar and Dawn that day we ran into those muggers, right? You know how Mr. Haze helped me put up lighting in my office area? When we were working on that I told him about how I was shoppin for everypony and asked if he could do me a big favor sometime and take me over to Early’s since I wasn’t able to go by myself.

“We made a detour the next time we were goin to the gym to get a price quote and draw up the order form, then the next day he went with me to the bank to get the certified check. It was a good thing I asked him instead of Solar, cause like I said, that teller was ready to toss me out.

“With the XO of the town guard right there vouching for my identity she really didn’t have any reason to argue, so she gave me the check and he dropped it along with the order form off at Early’s and brought me a receipt a few days later.”

“Huh. I’ll hafta thank ‘em next time I see him.”

“Yeah, dad, he’s actually pretty nice. I think he’s one of those that just takes a while to warm up to somepony before they start talking much. I think I’m gonna have Velvet Stitch make a set of PJs for him and Emerald as thanks. I’d get Solar a set too but by the time he’ll be able to use them he’ll probably have grown a hoof or more and be back from Basic.”

“You have a couple more, Cure. I feel a little silly with those, though, compared to what you got us.”

“I’m a walking bioprinter, mom, don’t worry about it,” he insists, picking up a package. “I hope you all realize that by this time next year there simply won’t be anything to get me. Don’t go giving yourselves white hairs trying to come up with some perfect gift because, odds are, if I want something bad enough I’ll probably go out and buy it. Especially once I’m an adult.”

Tearing the pack open he’s just as excited to find an old fashioned, at least from an earthling’s view, coffee grinder. “HA! Awesome! Do I dare guess what the third package is?” he asks with a big smile.

“I dunno, sweetie,” Vines teases, “I can’t imagine you might be able to guess what’s in there.”

“Let’s see!” he says, tearing the packaging off the box and opening it to find a bag of Canterlot’s Finest coffee beans, ready to be ground and brewed. “Oh this is the best Hearth’s Warming yet!” he happily shouts.

“You have one more from us, sweetie,” Vines says, pulling a small box out from under the tree. “Now don’t get your hopes up; this is something I made just for you, so it’s not a big deal.”

“I’m sure I’ll love it, dam. Thanks!” Cure opens the last box and, inside, finds something he hadn’t expected. His very own Santa Hat, crocheted by his dam. “Aww! It’s perfect, dam!” he says, slipping it on over his horn. He has to recline the horn slightly so the hat stays upright at the correct angle, but it still works perfectly. “Hey neat! I could actually just wear this over the horn and nopony would know it’s there!”

“That sounds like a terrible idea, Cure.”

“Yeah, sport, you’ve already run outside with that thing on a couple times. I could see ya pull yer hat off in school forgettin the horns on yer head. Then what?”

“I pull the horn off too and play it off as a prank?”

Pausing in thought, Deed slowly nods, “That would probably work pretty well. Still, best not ta risk it. Now, your great grandsire sent ya somethin too. He says it’s from all’a them, so go ahead ‘n grab that last one and open ‘er up.”

Cure finds the small package way under the tree, and while keeping his tail tucked down, backs his rear out from under it, box in hoof. “Huh… feels like it has some weight to it. I hope he didn’t get me a tiny brick. Unless it’s gold, I guess.” He tears off the paper to find a jewelry box, further confusing him.

When he opens the box his eyes go as wide as saucers. “Holy schnikes! A freakin pocket watch!” he shouts, pulling the watch out of the box. “Wait… it feels enchanted… Illusion?” he confusedly asks, then activates the enchantment, projecting a digital readout of the time directly over the watch’s lid. “NO WAY! Oh man! That’s awesome!”

“Damn, son… that’s a Tartarus of an expensive watch ya got there. Grandpa said to read the instructions, too. He said it’s important.”

Cure digs the slip of paper out of the box and unfolds it. “Wow… I got a feeling that this is like a ten thousand bit watch or more. It’s blood-bound. Only direct relations can open the lid or use the illusion crystal. I saw options like that available on those bags, but they were… pricey. To say the least. If this ever gets lost or stolen the jewelry store he got it from can track it down, too.”

“You should write out a thank you card, sweetie. That’s a very thoughtful gift. I didn’t even know such a thing existed.”

“I’ve heard of them, but you’re right. That is an insanely expensive present, Cure. Then again, you did de-age four of them and heal another, so I guess I can understand it.”

“Yep! I need to write a nice note to all of ‘em. A coffee maker, a fancy watch, and Wonderbolts tickets… I never expected all that. Whatta ya say, pa, you feel up to doin some home appliance installation today or you wanna just relax in a big snuggle pile for a little bit first?”

“Snuggle piles always come first, son. Always,” he insists with a firm nod.

“I can’t argue with that,” Cure agrees, trotting over and collapsing on his side between his sire’s hooves. “Happy Hearth’s Warming Eve, mom, dam, dad. I love you all more than anything!”

After the required snuggles were completed Deed and Cure began work on the “installation” of the purchased appliances while the mares supervise from a safe distance.

It only takes a moment for Cure to come to the conclusion that ponies are complete bullshit. Not only is there no wiring, but the ridiculous strength and ability to lift and move things with a horn make it a real struggle to hold back cursing at the utter pain in the ass doing anything similar used to be in his memories.

Swapping out the units took less than ten minutes, most of which was finding the anchor points that held the old unit in place. There’s no wiring, no gas lines, no nothing. Simply pull the unit forward, then lift up and the old one comes out. Line up the new unit with the ground anchors, set it on there, and slide it back so the anchors are stuck in the groove.

It’s about as difficult as taking down one picture off of a wall and hanging another in its place. Easier, actually, since Cure didn’t have to cram his face against the wall and try to stick too-fat fingers behind the picture to make sure the little triangle hook thing caught the nail.

“This is utter cow manure,” he says. “No wonder ponies are so freakin happy! Magic makes everything a cinch. You have no freaking idea how much worse that would be if we were all human.”

“Can’t say I do, sport. How bad would it’a been?”

“Well first off, we would have had to go flip a circuit breaker to make sure the electricity in the whole kitchen was off, then we would have had to figure out how in the hay the old one is anchored in place. I don’t know how human stoves are since I have no memories of changing one out, but I assume they’re screwed in somehow.

“That’s where the unicorn aura really shines, though, ‘cause all I had to do was get the horn low enough and I could ‘see’ under the thing where it was anchored. They have little cameras that are on the end of cords that you can snake down into tight places, but those things are new… at least, the kinds that normal people can buy. They have had units like that for medical purposes for a while, at least.”

“Medical purposes?” Title asks.

“Yeah, colonoscopies or endoscopy. Colonoscopies friggin suuuucked. Ya hafta chug a ton of this junk that made ya crap your brains out so yer poop shute’s all clean for when they cram a damn camera up there and check ya out. They don’t knock ya out for that either, just kinda put you into a daze they call twilight, which really just means you don’t feel a lot of pain but you get to keep the memory of having a camera shoved up your rear.”

His mom’s covering her mouth with a hoof, trying not to laugh while also being mortified. Deed has no compunctions though and is laughing uproariously. “That sounds awful,” she agrees.

“Yeah, I swear that damn thing went so far I thought they were tryin to check my teeth from behind. I think that doc just had some kinda fetish or somethin.”

“Cure!”

“What, dam? A human’s intestines are like five meters long and that bitch must have mapped out every centimeter of ‘em. You’d think she was lookin for gold deposits or somethin. They insisted they only went through the large intestine but it sure didn’t feel like it. The whole friggin time they were pumpin air like I was a damn deflated tire too. Good God, the sounds…

“Ugh… glad I never have to deal with that crap again. You’re welcome, everypony! Happy Hearth’s Warming! You’ll never need a camera with a cord twice the length of our kitchen table rammed up your plot.”

Barely getting it out through the giggles, Title agrees wholeheartedly. “And I thought the bags were a nice present.”

“What can I say, Clark? That’s the gift that keeps on giving the whole year.”

Deed raises a brow to his son. “Clark?”

“Classic Christmas movie reference, dad. I need to get my hooves on the Major Illusion spell so I can show you some actual moving picture scenes. Your pony brains would explode if I played some of the awesome movies I’ve seen. Of course, being today and all, I’d have to start off with the greatest Christmas movie of all time. Die Hard.”

“That title doesn’t sound very merry, son.”

“It’s great, dad. It’s this movie about a cop that’s visiting his wife’s job on Christmas day and a bunch of terrorists or thieves or whatever take over the building they’re in, so of course he’s gotta kill ‘em all, ya know? The only good thief is a dead one, after all.”

“Cure!”

“What? Thieves suck, dam. Back in the good ‘ol days they used to cut their hands off. Nopony better steal my stuff. I swear, anypony comes for that watch or coffee maker it’s gonna be on like Donkey Kong. I’ll show ‘em where every pain nerve in their body is, I’ll tell you what.”

Title rubs her forehead and, with an annoyed look, calls to the colt. “Cure… you’re being stupid.”

“Duh. I’m just teasin. I wouldn’t torture somepony over a coffee maker,” he insists, then quietly adds, “much.” Pausing to appreciate the new units, Cure holds up a hoof to his sire and gets a bump in return. “Nice work, pa. It’s good to know if the whole cosmetic procedure thing ends up flopping, eventually, I can make some coin delivering and installing kitchen appliances.”

“It’s good yer keepin yer options open, son.”

“Yup, always have a backup. Isn’t that right, mom?”

“I suppose,” she agrees with a shrug. At Deed’s snort laugh and Vines admonishing “Cure!” it registers what he’d said. “… hey, wait a second. What are you implying?”

“Aww, I’m just teasing ya, mom! You know I love ya ta bits!” he shouts, walking over and hugging her foreleg.

“Mhmm… I think I still have the receipt for that coffee maker somewhere.”

Cure cheats and makes his pupils grow huge, then with big, watery eyes, pinned back ears, and a quivering lip he looks up to meet her stare. “But… but momma…”

She can only keep it up a moment before looking away. “Ugh, so unfair. You suck.”

Grinning in victory, he gives her another quick nuzzle and turns back to finish his explanation about setting up a stove in humanlandia but stops when there’s a knock at the door. All four scent the air subconsciously and realize it’s Glacial and Drift outside, so Cure pulls off his horn, re-cubes it and sets it on a counter before putting his cap back on and going to the door.

He opens it to find a pair of pegasi in their outfits he delivered just a few days prior. “Well if this isn’t the prettiest couple of presents anypony’s ever found on their doorstep then I’ll eat my hat! Gotta say, that’s some fancy wrappin too!” Looking over his withers he yells, “Dam! Dad! Mom! Come look how great the girls look in their flight suits!” Stepping aside he waves the pair in and shuts the door behind them, getting a couple giggled out hellos and nuzzles as they pass by.

“We were gonna see if everypony wanted to play in the snow,” Glacial explains as she walks in the room just as the parents come out of the kitchen.

“Sweet Celestia, son! I didn’t know you knew the Wonderbolts!”
“Oh, wow, ladies!” Title shouts. “You are looking really sharp in those!”
“They look amazing, girls. Would you like some hot cocoa or anything?”

“That would be great, Mrs. Vines,” Glacial eagerly accepts. “Thank you.”

“Sure, thanks!” Drift agrees as both pull their hoods back. Cure notices they were both using the membranes he gave them, which he’s happy to see them enjoying.

The parents go in the kitchen to give the three some privacy while preparing their drinks. Cure gets out a couple guest mats and lays them out, then flops on his cushion facing the pair. “So what’s up ladies? You both do the family thing already?”

He’s caught unprepared when each girl takes a side and lays against him, Drift on his left and Glacial on his right. They remind him of Dawn just a few months prior when she first started doing the same thing. Both are leaning against him with their suits still on while looking anywhere but at him and blushing, though it’s harder to tell with Drift’s dark purple coat.

Glacial answers first. “Mmhmm. Dad and dam got me a… well…” she drifts off, pinking in her ears even more.

Drift cackles, turning to finally look at the two. “They got her a big stuffed toy!”

“It’s a plush snuggle toy and I love it!”

“HAHA! She’s got a big ol’ Princess toy to snuggle with at night.”

Cure can’t help but think that sounds pretty nice. “What’s wrong with that? I always sleep way better with somepony to snuggle with. You think they have any Teddy bears? I bet the foal would love that and I’d get myself one too.”

“Sweet Celestia, Cure, are you still five or something?”

“We’re a herd species, Drift. We sleep better in groups. It’s wired into our brains.”

“See!” Glacial yells at her friend. “I told you there wasn’t anything wrong with it. What’s a Teddy bear though?”

Cure explains, ignoring Drift’s huffed “whatever.” “It’s just a stuffed bear toy that is kinda cutesy looking. Maybe I can make one for my little sister with my dam’s help. I bet Early’s over in Baltimare has the stuffing. What’d you get, Drift? Anything neat?”

“Daddy got me a really cool book about pegasi military tradition. It has all kinds ‘a formations, aerial maneuvers, and lots of neat history about tactics used in the last griffon war.”

“That sounds awesome! Maybe when you’re done reading it you could bring it over and show me some? I’d love to see some of those moves. Have you two tried any yet?”

“Not yet,” Glacial answers as Drift shakes her head no. “We wanted to go around and see if everypony wanted to go out and play in the snow. Daddy’s team worked really hard last night to cover the whole town, but they dumped a buncha extra in the park for the foals.”

“Oh,” in a husky voice he asks, “and you thought of me first, did you?” while nuzzling into her neck.

“No,” Drift bluntly answers. Smirking at the colt when he turns to her, she explains, “We actually stopped here last.”

“Jeez… really?” he asks with a pout. At her proud nod he gives her a forlorn look and lays his head between his forelegs. “Well… I guess I’m glad you eventually remembered me.” Cure plays it up some, but the truth is that it does hurt his feelings. He’s certainly not expecting them to dry hump his face every time he sees them, but him being almost an afterthought stings more than he expected.

Glacial gives her wings a flap and settles on his withers. “You and Heavy are the furthest out of town!” she insists. “He was outside playin with his sisters already, that’s why we came here last!” Nosing at his mane she continues, “Ferric and her dam spent the night at Saph’s house and Coast’s is on the way here.”

Pausing, she leans down and takes a deeper sniff at his mane, something Drift raises an eyebrow at. “Why do you smell like cookies?” she asks, then takes another and says, “Is that some kind of cologne? I’ve never heard of a cookie scented one, but it smells really good.”

“The same reason you smell like lilies. It’s nice, by the way. I mean ‘you smell nice’ is kind of an odd thing to say, but I’m glad to see you’re enjoying the plants. I guess the oil works well?”

Curiosity getting the better of her, Drift leans over and noses at his mane too. She must really like the smell because he feels her rubbing her cheek against him. Either that or she actually feels a little bad about being a jerk all the time.

Vines is absolutely delighted when she walks in the room with a tray on her back. Finding two more fillies not only leaning on him, but also scenting him and, evidently, liking what they find brings joy to her heart. With a happy wiggle in her step she sets the tray in front of the three, gives her son a big smile, then dances back to the kitchen, getting thanks from the trio as she goes. She never notices the pair’s embarrassment at being seen with their faces crammed in his mane.

“The oil is fantastic, actually,” Drift admits, still resting her head on his shoulder. “My dam and sister really appreciate that. Sorry for teasing you, Cure. I really do appreciate all the presents. My sire uses the leaves too since it has the oil but doesn’t smell as strong… it’s as good or better than anything we’ve bought.”

“Mmhmm. My sire’s doing the same thing. He’s had a couple mares at work ask him what he’s using. You could probably sell those plants for a couple hundred bits each.”

“Really?” he asks, surprised. “That much?”

Nodding as she climbs down to get her drink she asks, “Have you seen how much the oil costs?”

“Yeah, I actually bought some when I got the brushes. I had to take a little taste of both the scented and the plain ones so I could compare ‘em to the oil I made. I also asked a pegasus at work to test the oil out. She said it was nice.” Pausing to remember how much the oil costs, he comes up blank. “I don’t remember how much the oil was by itself… I bought it with the brush sets.”

“A nice jar of scented oil is fifteen to twenty bits depending on the brand,” Drift explains. “Each one of those plants is easily worth a couple hundred. Way more depending on how long they live. How long do they live?”

“No idea. I combined several plants to make those. They’re cold resistant like a maple, have the leaves and stems of hostas… don’t freak out, because obviously they’re not poison ivy, but the glands that produce oil are similar to those, and of course they started as whichever flower they are. They’re highly modified, though… I would assume they’ll live for years because the maple tree is where I got the ‘hardiness’ from.”

Cure pauses to reach out and grab his drink. He could smell it as soon as she brought it out. He takes a slow sip of the coffee and savors every drop, tweaking his taste buds slightly to add a hint of vanilla to the flavor. His mom had, fortunately, put a little sugar in it, but with only milk there was no other way but to cheat for now. He still enjoyed the strong Canterlot blend, but his pony tastebuds demanded a sweeter drink than he could tolerate in his memories.

Both girls are enjoying the hot cocoa and, with a hint of jealousy, he notices she’d put marshmallows in theirs. It would probably taste a little weird in coffee, but melt-on-your-tongue chocolate marshmallows sound pretty damn good anytime it’s below freezing out.

“Is that coffee?” Drift asks, leaning close to take a sniff.

“Yeah, but it’s not very sweet… do you like it?”

“It smells good, but I’ve never tasted it before.”

“Well you’re welcome to a sip but I don’t think you’ll like it unless I mess with the flavor some.”

“Mess with the flavor?” she asks.

“Yeah, I can make anything taste like anything I’ve had before. I’ll use my talent on ya; go ahead and take a sip of that hot cocoa.”

Nodding, she does just that, getting a marshmallow on the way while he watches the signals firing off from her mouth.

“Okay, now take a sip of my coffee,” he instructs, sliding it to her.

As the drink hits her tongue he modifies the signals leaving the area to mimic the chocolatey, melty marshmallow flavor, causing the filly’s eyes to light up in delight.

“Okay, hold on a sec and I’ll let you taste how the coffee normally would. Maybe wash what’s in your mouth down with a sip of your cocoa again.”

After doing so she waits a few seconds, then leans over and takes a small sip of the coffee again, this time almost spitting it out and recoiling away. “That’s disgusting! How can you drink that?”

“Eh, I think you have to kinda get used to having it for a while, then it just gets better and better. My parents got me a coffee maker for Hearth’s Warming. I don’t think I’ve ever been as excited about a present before… not for a long time, at least. Of course the Wonderbolts tickets are pretty great too.”

“Wonderbolts tickets?” both girls ask at the same time.

“Yeah… your dams didn’t tell you about them?” At the dual no head shakes he explains, “My parents got tickets for the Wonderbolts season opener in May along with everything we need. Train tickets, hotel room, etcetera. I only have a few tickets… Maybe if everypony else can’t go I’ll ask you last, Drift.”

At her wide, watery-eyed look he rolls his eyes and waves a hoof. “I’m teasing; they got enough for everypony who’s not terrified of heights. You should really think about how you talk to ponies, though, Drift. I teased you a few days ago but it’s… it’s bad. I mean, don’t take this the wrong way, you’re pretty and I bet you’ll be gorgeous when you’re older, but nopony wants to be snarled at all the time.”

Drift does not take the criticism well at all. Hopping to her hooves she turns and faces Cure, face twisted into a snarl. “Who the fuck do you think you are to tell me how to talk to ponies?”

Rather than responding in kind he keeps sipping at his coffee. “Somepony that cares enough to tell you to your face that no matter how beautiful a mare is, eventually anypony will get sick of their attitude. I’d rather piss you off now than see you alone in twenty years because you seem to enjoy startin shit way more than you like seein other ponies happy.”

“Don’t you worry about me, I’ll be fine!”

“Maybe, or maybe you’re gonna say something funky to somepony that’s too much like yourself and they’re gonna knock your teeth out. Or you’ll win the fight and end up arrested. One or the other, but both endings kind of suck if you ask me.” Finally setting his coffee down, he turns to face her. “Lemme ask ya this, Drift. How well did lettin their tempers get the better of ‘em work for your sister and your sire?”

Cure figures it’s a fifty-fifty chance. She’ll either back down or attack. Of course, she has to know that attacking an earth pony on the ground, especially one that’s as strong as he is, can not end well. Still, he sits up and faces her when she starts puffing up.

A few months ago when they played kickball she was a little taller than him, but that’s not the case anymore. She’s slightly taller than she was that night at kickball, but Cure’s grown over an inch since then, making any height she had from the year and a half age advantage disappear.

“So are you gonna attack me for voicing a legitimate concern after everything I’ve done to try to be a good friend? I mean… you literally are not strong enough to hurt me, but if you want to prove me right, go ahead.”

“She better not. I’ve been telling her the same thing for over a year now!” Glacial growls from behind him. Stomping around Cure, she nuzzles under Drift’s chin and, absolutely blowing Cure’s mind, plants a soft kiss on her left cheek. She whispers in her ear, but with his hearing Cure can hear every word. “Calm down, he’s right. I like him, so be nice!”

Cure’s pretty sure a wire in his brain misfired because it seems to him like Drift almost instantly listens to Glacial and stops poofing herself up, nodding in acceptance from the platinum filly and returning the nuzzle. Deciding that he’d rather have an awkward moment and be wrong than be unsure how everything stands, he decides to speak up.

“I like you too, Glacial. Stars, I even like Drift, usually. I just don’t like when she’s so… mean,” he explains with a frown. “I mean, I couldn’t believe it when I showed up piled with presents to her freaking cloud house and the first thing she said was ‘Why the fuck are you here’ then called me a stalker a sentence later.

“I just don’t get it, Drift. I show you how to do aura tricks, I give you a massage, do your wings, treat you to desert, buy you a flight suit and brushes, literally invent a new plant for you, give you those membranes, tell you we’re going to see the Wonderbolts in their opening show and the only thing it takes for you to explode on me is ‘You should really think about how you talk to ponies.’”

Each item he lists off causes the filly to wince. He doesn’t realize it, but as he’s naming everything, he thinks about how much effort he’s put into their friendship, causing him to get angrier and angrier. Subconsciously he squares off with Drift and widens his stance, looking ready to pounce on her.

“That’s not okay,” he snaps at her. “I don’t expect some kinda tit-for-tat but I’m not some fucking doormat and I’m not going to keep going above and beyond to be your friend just to get my face bitten off at the slightest provocation. Are you going to start treating me like I’m an actual friend or is this what I can expect from you every time we have to interact?”

By the time he finishes he’s fully yelling at the girl, and she’s shrunk back, almost behind Glacial, who’s shocked at the angry, confrontational demeanor from the colt she’s only ever seen be happy and friendly.

“Cure? What’s wrong?” his dam calls, having heard raised voices and her son’s nearly growled out speech. She comes back into the living room to find both fillies shrunk back away from him and him looking like he’s about to attack.

Cure takes a deep breath and blows the frustration out. Facing his dam he explains, “What’s wrong is that I’ve gone, in my opinion, way out of my way to try to be a good friend and basically every time we meet our interactions start with Drift making some nasty comment or just being a jerk, and I’m sick of quietly taking it.”

He turns back to the fillies and says, “If you want to be my friend, that’s great. If not, I’ll be disappointed, but I guess that’s fine too. I’m just done being the only one putting forth any effort, so go out, have fun playing with everypony, and when you’ve had time to decide if our friendship is over with or not then let me know.”

He continues, looking to the platinum filly. “Glacial, I think I like you and, to me, you’re absolutely beautiful. I don’t know what exactly your two’s relationship is and, frankly, I don’t care either way. I don’t want to issue some kind of ultimatum, but if us being friends means I have to let somepony treat me like that then I’m afraid that’s just not going to work for me.

“I’m young and, frankly, not invested enough in any would-be relationship between us to put up with that crap, no matter how gorgeous I think you are, so both of you can go ahead and leave and think over what I said and let me know whenever you reach a decision. I’ll probably come out after visiting Lemon, Amy, and the girls.”

Rant done, Cure walks to the door, opens it wide, and steps aside while waving a hoof out. Both hesitate at first, but after looking between him and his dam they walk out, heads hung and eyes tearing up. Once they’re outside he closes the door behind them, then wordlessly leans his forehead against it, feeling the adrenaline fade and the post-rush tiredness setting in.

Vines walks behind him and gently pets down his back while he listens to the conversation between the pair on the other side of the door. They’d moved away, but hadn’t flown off yet and the argument was overwhelmingly Glacial growling at Drift.

“No, you’re not going back in there today! He’s angry and hurt because you have to be such a hardflank all the time.” The sarcastic emphasis on “hardflank” comes through loud and clear. “How long did it take before Lightwing told Wind the same thing he said? What happened after that, miss hardflank?”

“She begged him not to dump her,” he hears Drift softly answer, then give a very wet sounding sniff.

“Exactly! Colts don’t have to tolerate that, Crosswind. You’ve seen how fed up with it your dam gets. Do you think your sire would have taken that from a mare when there’s always a half dozen more waiting in the wings to step in? No! She only puts up with that so she has her own stallion, and you know it’s true!”

“I’m sorry, okay?! What do you want me to do? He looked like he was about to rip my head off and I’d already apologized once!”

“Stop acting like a flankhole and having to apologize afterwards! He doesn’t deserve that, especially from you. Sweet Celestia, do you know how much these suits cost?!”

“Dam said silk’s expensive…”

“Thousands, Drift. Each. And those plants! I have no idea what… " the conversation becomes inaudible from there as the two have moved far enough away that Cure can no longer hear them.

He lets out a deep sigh and turns around, wrapping his forelegs around his dam. “How much did you all hear?”

“From her yelling about what you said on. I don’t like that kind of language, Cure. I know you’re upset, but I expect better than that.”

“I’m sorry, dam,” he says, nuzzling into her chest. Despite his mental age he can feel his ears pin back automatically. “I kinda lost my temper on her.”

“We couldn’t tell,” his mom calls out, trotting over to put the half finished cocoa back on the tray. Pausing for a moment, she shrugs and downs both mugs, then carries them back to the kitchen as his sire comes out and flops on his cushion.

“Lil harsh fer a holiday, son. I hafta agree, though. No need having folks in yer life that can’t behave like decent ponies. I bet she’ll be here apologizin in no time.”

Cure gives his dam a nuzzle and another squeeze before letting go, climbing between Deed’s forelegs, and flopping on his side. He reaches for his coffee, getting a hoof from Deed. With a quick thanks he starts warming it with his TK. “Probably,” he agrees with a sigh. “I could hear the two of them out there for a moment. Glacial sounds ticked at her,” he explains as Title rejoins them, laying across Deed’s withers on his right as Vines lays against his left side.

“From what I could hear,” he continues, “it sounds like her older sister had something similar happen, assuming Lightwing is the colt she’s been dating for a couple months. I don’t know if the way they act is a behavioral thing or if there’s a biological reason. I’ve never gotten anything from my talent about mental health issues, so maybe bipolar disorder runs in their family and she really can’t help it much.”

“I think we had a similar conversation back after that night you fought Wind, honey,” his dam tells him. “It certainly seems to run in the family.”

“Yeah,” Cure agrees, nuzzling into his sire’s shoulder, “and Glacial said something about Drift’s dam only putting up with it so she can have her own stallion. He didn’t act off the other day, but with that many ponies around and, given the circumstances, I would expect him to be on his best behavior.

“That kinda indicates it may just be a learned behavior instead of having a biological cause. Whatever, not my problem. It does suck that mares have to put up with that crap but she still made the choice, so that’s on her.”

Title leans down and asks, “Are you going to go out to play with your friends, babe?”

“Maybe after visiting my lil sisters. I’m sure that’ll cheer me up.” He takes a sip of his coffee and continues warming it. “I’m not really mad at Drift, I’m just sick of her acting the way she does. You shouldn’t keep toxic ponies in your life, and I wasn’t joking; she’s going to mouth off to the wrong pony one day and get hurt. Or whoever she’s with will if they’re forced to defend her.

“I remember some chicks, which is slang for human women, that thought they were untouchable because a lot of guys would never hit a girl. Some eventually got the hell beat out of them when they finally found that wrong guy to mouth off to. That’s less of an issue here since mares can be about as strong as stallions, but human males are usually three to four times as strong as women.

“Still, I’m sorry about the profanity. I definitely let my anger get the better of me. That ‘We came here last’ quip cut me deeper than I expected.”

“We just about hadta hold yer dam back when that girl snarled at ya. Like I said, son, it was a lil harsh given the holiday and all, but if that’s how she is most ‘a the time it was gonna happen eventually either way, I reckon. Better to know sooner’n later.”

“Yeah… Mind if I finish my coffee before we go?”

“Take your time, honey. There’s no rush,” Title answers.

Cherry and Lotus had been ecstatic with the books and the crayons. Their dams were thrilled with the blankets, but the conversation got a little odd. Title thought the whole thing was hilarious, of course, so she was happy to sit back and watch while Deed and Vines entertained the girls.

“You made them?” Amethyst asks. At his nod she scowls and continues. “Wait, they’re made of what, exactly?”

“Silk, Amy,” Cure answers, rubbing at his temples.

“Uh huh. I ain’t seen any worms at yer house, colt, so where under Celestia’s sun didja get it, and how in Tartarus did ya make them fancy patterns?”

“They’re very pretty,” Lemon agrees. “I’d love to get one for myself.”

“Sweetie, he made those. Himself. Ainchya gettin it?”

“So?”

“It’s basically skin, Lemon,” Cure explains, “skin is made of protein, just like spider or worm silk is. Amy, does it really bother you that instead of some worm’s cocoon they’re made from me?”

“It’s a little weird,” she points out.

“We put cow crap on plants we grow to eat, Amy. You can go to the farms a bit further out of town and literally say hi to the cows if ya want. Those blankets are transmuted with magic from what they were to what they are now. What magic do you use on yer spinach when you sit down for dinner?”

With a disgusted look, she considers that point for a moment. Finally, she nods in acceptance. “Ya know what? That’s fair.”

Sighing at the concession, Cure turns to her wife. “Any particular design you’d like, Lemon?”

The weather team had done a fantastic job the previous night. Hearth’s Warming Eve just isn’t the same without a layer of snow on the ground. Of course, that doesn’t mean it’s as easy as pushing a few clouds over the town, giving them a good buck, and calling it a day.

Nope, the clouds all need a degree of micromanagement to get it just right. The town itself needs a good hoof of the stuff at most so streets and walkways can be easily cleared. The farms only need a dusting so their ground crops are accessible within a few days. The parks, though… They need at least a half meter so the foals have plenty of material to work with for their forts and their fights.

Dawn, Rising, Coast, and Drift have successfully held the high ground. Glacial was sneaky as all get out, and Ferric was throwing snowballs as big as Dawn’s head. Thank the stars it’s powdery snow. She still is going to kiss Cure right on his face because the coat he gave her with the shield crystal is a Celestia-sent blessing, not to mention the membrane he added that has kept water out of her eyes.

The fort her team had put together was being pelted from all sides, but they’ve been giving back as good as they’ve gotten so far. She doesn’t know how the hay Rising does it, but that filly has the most ridiculous aim she’s ever seen. Glacial learned real quick to keep her hooves on the ground after she got nailed right in the wingpit once.

With an unexpected lull in the fight, Dawn dares to poke her head up over the wall and, bizarrely, sees absolutely nopony out there. The snow has been churned up a little due to their playing, so it’s difficult to see over it, even with the membranes closed, but when she looks around for a few seconds and is met with complete silence she suspects they may be up to something.

“Drift?” she calls out. “You have the best eyes. Can you see anything?”

“Uhh… where is Drift?” Coast yells back.

Turning to face Coast and Rising, Dawn asks, “What do you mean where is Drift? She’s running around in a bright pink suit, how the hay did you lose her in a field of white snow?”

“I thought she was right behind me,” Rising tells her, then glances over her withers. “She was just a moment ago because I heard her whining that her suit didn’t cover her wings. I like my fetlock band and all,” she says, looking at it fondly, “but having a warm, waterproof suit would be really nice right now,” she complains with a pout.

Scoffing, Dawn points out, “Don’t go pouting at me. I’m sorta-kinda his fillyfriend and he didn’t give me any jewelry.”

“Riiiiiight,” Coast sarcastically agrees, “he only gave you a few thousand bits worth of silk clothes. You poor thing.”

“Besides, you’re not his only fillyfriend now,” Rising teases, “He basically proposed right in front of my dam,” she says with a smug smile. Then the smile disappears into a frown, “Stars I’m gonna kill him for that. She was so disappointed when I told her he was teasing.”

“You sure he was?” Coast asks, “I mean, the way you described it sounded kinda… you know… intimate. Plus, fetlock band…”

“I dunno. I mean, he’s cute enough I guess, and we’ve seen how good he is with foals. And he’s got a good job. Like, ridiculously good.” With a teasing smirk she asks, “How bout it, Dawn. Wanna share ‘em?”

“Worry about that when we figure out where everypony went,” she growls back.

“What in the hay is that?” Rising asks, looking over the wall.

“Is that the fin from my Nightmare Night costume?”

“What?” Dawn asks in confusion. Following Rising’s pointed hoof she does indeed see a fin. Sure enough, it looks like the one from Coast’s costume, but darker, and it’s moving in a wide circle around them in the snow. “What the hay is that? There’s not like… some kind of snow shark creature is there?”

Coast shakes her head no. “Not that I’ve ever heard of… is it circling us?”

“Uhh… it looks like it is,” Rising hesitantly nods. “And I think it’s getting closer.”

Dawn checks through her aura. All of the water in the snow between her and the target is making it impossible to get a feel for what it is, but she can tell the fin is definitely attached to something, and it is spiraling around and closer to them as it goes. She’s beginning to get a little worried. She’s heard her sire talking about some land sharks once, but he hadn’t been talking about animals at the time. “It is! What should we do?!”

“Uhh… it just disappeared,” Coast yells out, just as Dawn feels the fin dip down below the snow’s surface. “Where the hay did it go?! The snow’s not THAT deep out there!”

Dawn barely had a split second to catch a glimpse of something when the creature resurfaced on the other side of them. To her relief, this time she hears something she recognized. At least, she recognized the voice.

“Duunnn dunnn… duuuunnnn duun… duuunnnnnnnn dun dun dun dun dun dun dun dun dun dun!”

“CURE! YOU JERK!”

Exploding out of a wall, the big idiot stands there smiling, but instead of his normal coat color he’s white from ears to hooves with light blue streaks like tiger stripes. “BAHAHA! GOTCHYA!” he shouts, dancing on his hind legs and jabbing out with his forehooves. “WOO! TOTALLY JAWSOME!” he yells before diving back into the snow and disappearing.

Coast stands there with a look of absolute bewilderment on her face. Turning to the other two fillies she gives them a confused look and asks, “What the hay is wrong with him?”

“I have no idea,” Rising shrugs, shaking her head in confusion. “I guess he just really likes to play in the snow?” she half-asks the other two.

“Dunno,” Dawn replies with a shrug, “but if he starts actin like a total crazy pony he’s all yours.”

Vines looks over the other foals warily, then asks, “Are you sure you don’t mind being in here, sweetie?”

“Eh, for now it’s fine. I’ll probably hang out here for a little bit then wander around some. Don’t worry, dam, I’ll stay out of trouble. Mostly,” he adds with a mischievous smile.

After giving him a long stare, Vines nods in acceptance. “Okay… well if you decide you want to go just come find me or your mom downstairs. I think your sire may have already gotten started,” she finishes with a sigh. Giving Cure one last nuzzle, Vines walks over to the foalcare provider and talks to the mare for a moment before leaving.

The holiday party that he had been invited to is on the ground floor of the Town Hall building. Cure remembers Title mentioned how they can rearrange the building and now he’s seen an example firsthoof.

The greenspace around the building has been decked out with strings of low level Light crystals in various colors. Wreaths are strewn about, hanging from virtually every protrusion on the building that could hold one. Garland is also strung about, all up and down every column in the building and hanging from the tall ceiling running lengthwise down the hall in a zigzag pattern.

Hearth’s Warming trees of various sizes and colors are also dotted around the interior, though the main lobby area has been left completely open for a large dance floor and the long tables the adults are drinking and eating at. Cure spotted a fully-stocked bar as well, and that’s probably going to be exactly where he ends up hanging out most of the evening if he can pull it off.

For now, though, he’s in the foalcare area on the second floor with the few children whose parents decided they had to come along for the party. The interconnected conference rooms they were using took up a fairly large area; likely the size of the tax offices, though any furniture that would normally be there had evidently been moved or chucked into storage.

Entertainment for the little ones is being provided by a couple clowns who are, at the moment, doing a small magic show. There’s a nap area for anypony that tuckers out, and, in another room, a section for the older colts and fillies with some games like darts, an indoor version of shoe toss, a ping pong table, some card games, and so forth.

Cure figures he can hang out here for a little bit, then if he gets bored sneak out and find something fun to do.

The clinic staff aren’t the only ones in attendance. Far from it, in fact. As best Cure can tell everypony whose paycheck comes from the crown is here, including most of the guards, everypony that works in the building, the librarians, the weather team, and the employees from the court building.

Dawn and Solar should be showing up in a little bit with their parents, but Cure figures the older colt will hang out with the adults. He’s over fifteen and has his mark, so he can drink or do whatever any other adult can, after all.

Cure isn’t sure if Glacial or Drift will show up. Glacial’s sire is on the weather team and both of Drift’s parents are guards, so they could. Or they could stay home with Wind watching them if they prefer; she is old enough, after all, and has her mark now too.

Cure feels a little guilty about exploding on Drift earlier in the day, but it needed to be said sooner or later. Deed was right though; today wasn’t a good day for it. It made the whole playing in the snow thing kind of awkward and everypony could tell that something had happened between him, Drift, and Glacial. Cure had quickly told Dawn they got in an argument, but he hadn’t had the time or opportunity to give her any details before he had to go home to get cleaned up for the party.

Bored, and with little to do, Cure decides to go check out the games for the older foals. Not very many are there since most are old enough to be left at home, but there’s inevitably always some that get dragged along since they are a little on the young side and don’t yet have their marks.

Cure spots a group of four pre-teen fillies and one colt playing shoe toss and decides to take a chance to see if they need a sixth. The colt and two fillies are earth ponies, one of the girls is a unicorn, and the last is a pegasus.

The indoor version of shoe toss uses a hard rubber version of the metal horseshoes… or pony shoes, he supposes. They probably could do some damage if thrown hard enough, but are unlikely to unless somepony specifically tries. Cure isn’t sure if these are holiday-themed or if they’re normally colored green and red.

The stakes, instead of being literal stakes in the ground, are basically rebar pegs sticking up about three hooves out of laid-down plywood boards; apparently screwed down into the wood somehow on a metal brace. Aside from the minor modifications the game seems identical to what he’d played at a few cookouts in his memories.

“Y’all need a sixth for shoe toss?” he asks as he approaches. Three of the fillies are watching while the colt and the unicorn filly are playing a round. There’s two other sets, so Cure’s not sure if the other three just don’t want to play or if this is a group of girls all pining after the one male present.

“Nah, colt, go away,” the older colt immediately says, dismissing him and turning back to take his turn. He’s a lighter cream colored earth pony and, though it’s a little difficult to guess, Cure thinks he’s probably around twelve or so. He’s a fair amount taller than Cure; about two and a half hooves and, aside from the pegasus filly who is a smidge shorter, so are all the girls.

“Dude all they have goin on over there are some board games and a clown show. I ain’t interested in a clown show.”

Stopping and turning to face Cure, the colt shrugs and waves him away with the hoof that isn’t holding a shoe. “I don’t really care what you’re interested in, little colt. I said go away. So go away.”

Cure sighs, sits on his haunches, and starts massaging at his temples with his eyes shut. Apparently the colt takes umbrage with Cure not immediately obeying him. Once he makes his throw he turns around and marches up to the younger colt, standing over him from just slightly out of reach. “Is there some part of go away that’s confusing to you, little colt?”

“No. I understand ‘Go away’ fine,” Cure answers, opening his eyes and standing back up. “Today’s been kind of a mixed bag, ya know? Started off great, took a bit of a dip after lunch, and now I get the pleasure of meetin nice ponies like yerself. I’m not sure if I want to put another bully in their place or just walk away.” Cure ignores the glare and looks up in thought. “Honestly, I just don’t think you’re worth it, especially at a party full of my coworkers, so… yeah, have fun ladies,” he explains as he turns to leave.

“Yeah you better fuck off you little smartmouth,” the colt calls after him, getting a few giggles from a couple of the fillies that are watching.

Cure pauses and looks over his withers, then turns to look at the shoe toss board they were throwing at. Pointing a hoof at it he shouts, “Hey I think something’s wrong with that stake, dude. Lemme go take a quick look then I’ll get outta yer mane,” he says as he turns and trots to the board with the stake standing up.

The colt is hot on his heels, so Cure doesn’t waste any time. He reaches down, grabs the stake, and snaps it right out of the board; the brace it was stuck in tearing and staying attached to the wood. The colt assumes Cure is going to swing at him with it, so he stops on the spot and takes a step back as all the fillies stand in case a fight breaks out.

Cure sits on his haunches, looks up, meets the colt’s eyes, then grabs each end of the stake in his hooves and, with full power magic blasting through his muscles, bends the it into a horseshoe shape in front of everypony, getting gasps from several of the fillies.

Holding the U-shaped piece of metal in his hooves, he waves it in the air. “Oh shoot! I think it was already right after all!” he theatrically shouts in faux embarrassment. Making a big show of rolling his eyes he adds, “It’s the shoes that are supposed to be bent, duh! The stake is supposed to be straight, isn’t it? I’ll tell ya, I am such a dummy sometimes! Here, lemme fix it real quick!”

Grabbing both ends again, he re-bends the stake until it’s straight, aside from a small wave where the bend was, then holds it in the air. “Well that looks about right to me. How about you, friend? Does that look good to you? Does that look straight enough, buddy?” he asks, holding the rebar out for the colt to take.

Slowly backing away from Cure, the colt nods in agreement. “Uhh… yeah, dude. That looks fine.”

“Great!” he shouts, dropping the rebar on the spot and ignoring the noise it makes when it hits the ground. “I’m so glad to hear that. Okay, you all have fun playing with your games now, got it? Maybe next time somepony wants to play too y’all can be a bit more neighborly, huh?”

Pointing to the room’s exit he adds, “I better go let the nice mare that’s keeping an eye on us know that I got a tiny bit confused and accidentally broke this one. Good thing there’s a couple others to play with.” Trotting towards the doorway he shouts back, “Y’all have fun now! Happy Hearth’s Warming Eve, everypony!”

After explaining that he’d broken a piece of the game equipment to the foalcare provider mare, Cure insisted that the bill for a replacement or repairs be sent to him. Unfortunately, she got a bit argumentative when he tried to leave until he told her, in no uncertain terms, that the only way he was staying in the foal area is if she physically forced him to and he would happily carry her downstairs with him if she tried. Once she found out he is an employee and not just the foal of one she relented.

Cure makes his way downstairs, passing a few parents dropping off their foals in the process. Once he’s far enough down that he can see the actual party, he quickly spots several ponies he knows. Every off-duty guard is at one table near the bar and, from the empty cups he’s judging, already working on a decent buzz. His parents are, surprisingly, sitting just a table away across from Emerald and Haze, so he decides to make that his first stop.

Nosing his way between his dam and his sire, he greets the group. “Hey everypony,” he calls. Nuzzling into his dam he explains, “Upstairs sucked so I figured I’d join y’all down here at the party. Hi Mr. Haze, Mrs. Aura. Are Dawn and Solar here?”

“No, Cure,” Emerald answers, “Dawn was going to come but said she was really tired from being outside in the cold, so she and Solar stayed home. They will probably be getting ready for bed here shortly.”

“Aww, why didn’t anypony come up and tell me? I was mainly waitin for her to show up.”

“I’m sorry sweetie, I was going to come up in just a few minutes. You were only up there for about half an hour. Did something happen?”

“Yeah, some jerk older colt got smart with me so I had to put him in his place. I owe somepony for a new shoe toss board, FYI. Anything exciting happening down here?”

With a worried look, Title asks, “You didn’t… break the board over his head or something, did you?”

“Sweet Celestia, mom! When in the hay have I ever hurt anypony? No, I just had to give ‘em a little demonstration. No violence… sheesh. You know I’m a pacifist,” he insists with an innocent look.

“Right, pacifist,” Haze knowingly nods. “I think I recall Solar mentioning exactly how passive you can be.”

“Aww, he told on me?”

“Don’t worry, son,” Haze insists, “I’m a father before I’m anything else, understood?”

“Yessir!” Cure answers, getting an appreciative nod back from the stallion.

“To answer your question, Cure,” Title says, “there’s not much goin on yet. I think everypony’s still applying the ‘ol social lubricant right now.”

“Huh. Neat. Dad, what are you drinkin?”

“It’s called a Manehattan, son. Want a sip?” he asks

“NO!” Vines yells as Cure reaches for the glass. He freezes on the spot and looks up at his wide-eyed dam, then moves his hoof an inch closer, getting a scowl. “Don’t you dare, little colt!” she growls.

“I’m gonna!” he teases back.

“You better not!”

Pointing in the other direction he yells, “WHY’S THE PRINCESS HERE?” Vines’ head whips around to follow his hoof, as do all the other heads in the area. Cure snatches the drink out of his dad’s hoof and downs the whole thing in one gulp, then puts the glass back just as everypony turns back around, looking on in horror as he chews up the cherries.

“Mmm. Yummy.”

Haze and Title both snort out laughs. Emerald covers her mouth with a hoof. Deed’s looking forlornly at his empty glass while Vines is staring daggers at the blue colt.

“Musta been a weather balloon. Weird.” Turning to look back at his sire he gives a respectful nod. “Wow dad, way to pound it. I’ll go getcha another one.”

“Thanks, son! Yer tha best!”

Cure doesn’t make it an inch away before he has a green hoof on his withers. “CURE!”

“Hmm? What’s up dam?”

“You’re skatin on thin ice, mister!”

“Dad’s thirsty, dam! You’re not gonna let the poor stallion dehydrate are ya? Look at how parched he is!”

They both glance at Deed who, playing along, is holding his empty glass between forehooves and pouting at his wife with a quivering lip. He lets out a small cough and weakly wheezes, “so thirsty, need booze” before looking back down at his empty glass.

Vines lets out a growl and releases Cure, sitting back at the table with a huff.

“Is he going to be okay?” Emerald asks as Cure wanders off. “That’s a lot of alcohol for somepony so young. I hope he won’t be ill.”

“He can’t get drunk,” Title tells them, getting a confused look from both of the unicorns. “Well, he probably could get drunk if he wanted to, but remember his talent. He was probably curious what it tasted like. He could drink a whole bottle of the stuff and not a drop of it would enter his bloodstream without him letting it,” she explains.

“Huh… that’s interesting,” Haze comments.

Cure makes his way over to the bartender and rears up to put his forehooves on the bar. “Yo keep, what’s a stallion gotta do ta get a Manehattan over here?” he shouts out, getting a round of laughs from the nearby patrons.

The bartender, an aged white unicorn stallion, leans over the bar and looks over the colt. “Step one would be to check back in about eight years, son. I’ll have it ready for ya then.”

“It’s not for me, old timer. I’m immune to the stuff anyhow. Special talent, ya know? It’s for my sire. Some punk colt ran by and drank his.”

“Uh huh, got a description of the troublemaker?”

“Yeah, mister, he was about six and a half hooves tall at the withers, light blue coat, green mane, and all the ladies nearby couldn’t stop swooning when he flexed!” he shouts, getting another round of laughs from everypony in earshot.

“Somepony oughta do somethin about the little rascal, but,” Cure continues as he turns to face the table with most of the guards sitting at it, “all the damn guards are over there drinkin my tax money instead of stopping the punk!” he shouts, getting a laugh from a few of them.

“Cure? What in the hay are you doing?” Ricochet yells back.

Cure fakes being surprised at seeing her there. “Oh wow! Hey, Rico, I didn’t see all of ya over there. Small world, huh?”

“Yeah, I bet. Are you harassing the barkeeper?”

With an affronted look, Cure puts a hoof on his chest and gasps loudly, “Me?! Harass the only pony in the whole building that’s actually working? Slander! Lies and slander most foul! Somepony should make a report about this!” he shouts, waving a hoof in the air.

“Stars, colt, you’re not actually drunk are you?” she asks, causing all the other guards that are nearby to scoot further away from him.

Cure gives them a wide-eyed look, “What the hay, everypony? Y’all actin like yer scared of a colt. I’m funny and adorable and completely harmless. Adorable too. I’m not sure if I mentioned adorable, but definitely adorable.”

“Shit, colt, you may be adorable and all,” Ricochet starts, pausing when Cure bats his suddenly much longer lashes at her, causing all the watching guards to holler out laughs. The corporal derails so hard she pauses a second to rub her forehead before continuing. “So fuckin weird, I swear. Anyhow, I don’t think anypony that’s seen how much steel you move believes that harmless is even close to right.”

“You’re gonna hurt my fragile little feelings over here,” he says with a pout. “No, Rico, I’m not drunk. I think I would have to force myself to actually get drunk, ya know? I have a healing talent and alcohol is, basically, a poison, so I think you can figure out how that works.”

The whole table lets off a sigh of relief. “Damn, y’all aren’t exactly inspirin a buncha confidence in our stalwart defenders here. Now which one of ya is gonna tell this nice stallion here that I need a Manehattan for my sire?”

Static Arc stands up and walks over to the bar. “I’d like one Manehattan, please.” The barkeep looks between Cure and the denim pegasus, shrugs, and gets started making the drink. “This is actually for your sire, right?” he asks the colt.

“Yep. Look,” he says, pointing to Deed who waves back and shoots the corporal a nod.

“Alright. Cool. If ya need anything else, colt, just let me know, okay?”

“Thanks dude!” he says, giving the stallion a hoof bump. Static heads back to the table while Cure waits for the drink and, after the barkeep sets it on the counter, tosses a couple bits up, plants the glass between his ears, and makes his way back to his sire.

“Order’s up, pa.”

“Thanks, champ.”

“See, Mr. Haze? This is why you bring your foals to parties. That way you have somepony that can fetch ya drinks without havin to tip ‘em.”

“That’s a valid point, son. I’m not so sure I could get away with that, though.”

“Yeah, Dawn would probably keep taking sips and Solar would disappear with the whole thing. I sure hope she’s a giggly drunk. Nopony likes a mean one, especially one as good with fire magic as she is.” Cure pauses in thought and idly muses aloud, “I wonder which tribe has the worst drunks. My money’s on earth pony. What do you think, dam?”

“Oh, I don’t know, honey. I don’t meet a lot of drunk ponies.”

“It’s definitely pegasi, Cure,” Emerald insists.

Haze nods in agreement. “She’s right, son. Nothing’s worse than a drunk pegasus. We have seen all the evidence we need to answer that one.”

“Sounds like ya got a story, you two,” Deed eyes them curiously. “Gonna share with the class?”

Emerald cringes at the memory while Haze chuckles a few times, nodding. “For our wedding,” he starts explaining, “we went all out. Had a big ceremony, outdoor reception, open bar… the works.”

“It cost a fortune!” Emerald interjects. “I’ve told both of ours to just go to a judge and keep it to immediate family. Never again do I want to deal with such a fiasco!”

“Exactly,” Haze agrees. “Did you do a big ceremony for yours?”

Vines looks down, clearly upset at the question. Deed leans over and gives her a kiss on her cheek before answering, “I’m afraid that wasn’t an option for us. My dandelion wanted one, but circumstances and all that…” he trails off with a sigh.

Cure nuzzles between the two, hugging his dam. Emerald gives Haze a not-very-subtle kick and a “what’s wrong with you” look. Cringing in realization, Haze quickly apologizes. “Ah… sorry! Open mouth, insert hoof,” he says with an uncomfortable chuckle.

“Well, if it helps, fiasco is exactly the right word. The officiator got my name wrong… Glaring Haze, really?!” he shouts, shaking his head in disbelief. “Then my best stallion realized he forgot the rings. Ah, unicorns use rings for the ceremony… I know earth ponies use fetlock bands, but yeah… the moron left them at the hotel,” he explains in exasperation.

Uhh… earth ponies use what now?! Whoops… no wonder Rising was teasing Dawn earlier. I wonder if Midnight Gem set me up or if there’s not that much significance like he thinks.

“Don’t forget the band, dear. They were simply atrocious! It was as if they were playing completely different songs at the same time, all of them poorly.”

“Yeah, there was the band,” he agrees, “or at least they called themselves one, despite their complete inability to play together. But anyway, as far as the original question is concerned, we had an open bar at the reception. As you can imagine, several members of my squad at the time were invited. I believe they saw the open bar as a challenge of some kind.

“We had members of all the tribes present and, you have to admit, the circumstances were ideal to test your question as to which tribe is the worst. Speaking from my experience, unicorns can be eliminated immediately simply because anything beyond a simple light spell just will not happen. Just like any other set of nerves and muscles in the body,” he says as he reaches up and gently taps his horn, “this fella’s coordination goes right out the window.

“Levitating small objects is about the limit of an inebriated unicorn’s capabilities, and even that is a right struggle.”

“Do you remember when my sister was trying to figure out how to get out of her dress?!” Emerald asks with a giggle. “Oh sun and stars! She was so drunk she kept missing the dress and grabbing her own tail! My aunt’s table got quite the lurid show!” she finishes, laughing uproariously.

“Well to her credit it did end up getting her a husband, so…” Haze trails off with a shrug. “But anyhow, one of my squaddies was this pegasus mare named Falcon. Had a beautiful silver coat and a bright yellow mane and tail, which made finding her crashed rear a lot easier, I’ll tell you what. She drank more beer and liquor than I ever believed a pegasus mare could even contain.”

“I believe she had a space-compressed stomach, dear, because she also absolutely thrashed the buffet half way through the reception.”

“Well, that explains half of the… ordinance, at least. Well, after consuming approximately her own body weight in alcohol and, apparently, food she decided to argue with another pegasus about who could glide the lowest and furthest without crashing or putting their hooves down. Glide, as in no flapping either,” he clarifies.

“Oh. That sounds like a bad idea,” Vines observes, getting agreeing nods from her husband and wife.

“Absolutely,” Haze agrees, “and it gets quite a bit worse when you factor what centripetal force does to a pony that’s crammed full of food and drinks at a crowded event.”

“To their credit, the strip that they were using was off to the side of the reception,” Emerald explains with a cringe.

“Yes, but unfortunately when Falcon made her run she was too drunk and her left forehoof caught the ground. She pinwheeled directly through the reception area… " Haze gets a faraway look, then shudders. “Have you ever seen those sponge-like balls that foals play with in a swimming pool?”

Oh boy. I think I know where this is going.

Cure clears his throat and asks, “Do you mean the ones you dip in the water, get soaked real good, then throw with as much spin as possible to make a spiraling water ring effect?”

Haze points a hoof at him and nods vigorously, “Yes, exactly that… that is what happened. I do not believe any of the… spray… was water, though.”

“The best part, of course, was where she ended her jaunt,” Emerald primly explains. “Would anypony care to wager a guess?”

“I think I know,” Title quietly says, getting nods from the other parents.

“The cake,” Cure answers.

“The cake,” both unicorns say at the same time. Haze continues, “It was a moot point by then. Even if she hadn’t hit the target dead on, she had already blanketed most of the guests, the food, and many of the serving ponies in a fine mist, and occasionally less fine not-mist, sadly. I do not believe I have ever seen fecal matter sprayed in such a wide radius in my entire life.”

“I would freaking hope not,” Title mumbles.

“Wow. Okay,” Cure nods in agreement, “pegasi win the competition for worst drunks I reckon. I figured earth ponies because of the strength thing, but… damn dude. Y’all’s wedding sounds like a freaking train wreck.”

“And don’t forget how expensive it was,” Emerald reminds them. “We paid quite a bit for all of that… pleasure”

“Thousands of bits,” Haze agrees with a nod, “To a private and a just-starting clinician it was a princess’s ransom.”

“Yeesh, good thing your son’s dating an event planner,” Title reminds them. “Maybe at your anniversary you can renew your vows and not have an open bar.”

“Maybe,” Haze agrees. “Our twentieth is coming up… well, not this coming May, but the one after.”

“Our tenth is next November first,” Vines says. Leaning over she gives Deed a kiss on his cheek. “My big, strong stallion proposed the day we found out I was pregnant and we were married two weeks later.”

“It was the second time in two weeks ya made me the happiest stallion in the world, babe,” Deed says, wrapping a foreleg around her withers and pulling her into his side. Reaching down, he ruffles Cure's mane and adds, “She did it again the next June, just a few seconds after Her Highness brought up her sun just a short train ride away.”

“I really wanted to go to that, too,” Haze complains. “Baltimare’s first turn since I transferred and, of course, I was on duty that morning.”

“Wait, what?”

“Yep, that’s right champ. Yer dam had ya not more’n ten seconds after the Summer Sun Celebration concluded just a few kilometers away.”

“That would have been June 20th, 900 AB, dad?”

Deed looks up in thought for a moment, then looks down at Cure and softly asks, “That’s kind of an important date, isn’t it?”

“It uhh… has some significance, yes.”

“Huh.”

“Am I… missing something here?” Haze asks, leaning towards Title.

“Yeah. Don’t worry about it. Maybe we can fill ya in some day. Every family has those things, right?”

Haze just sits back up and nods in understanding. “Yes, I suppose they do.”

“I feel like I could use another one of those Manehattans, pa.”

“Ya know what, son. How bout yer pa comes with ya. We’ll get a few ta share.”

Chapter 55: Who wants a bawdy massage?

Saturday, March 14th, 909 AB (13 days later)

“Ya still got everything, right pa?”

Deed sits up to look over Title’s back nodding to the colt. “Sure do, champ. Don’t worry, ain’t nopony snaggin nothin away.”

Grumbling, Cure looks right over Dawn’s back and out the window at the passing scenery. His family had all accompanied Solar’s to his graduation, then had lunch in Baltimare before boarding the train back to Golden Hills.

Private cars are not available on the commuter train, but with both families taking up the last few rows of the car, Cure’s Sound Bubble crystal still surrounds them. It’s particularly convenient for occasions like this where a substantial amount of background noise would make conversation difficult for anypony without the enhanced hearing his family enjoys.

The commuter train layout reminds Cure of some sort of hybrid between a school bus and restaurant booths. Each alcove has two benches facing each other. There’s room between them for a pony to walk in, climb on the bench, and turn to face either towards the windows or the aisle.

Most of the benches are only about a third of a meter off the floor and have a shorter divider so ponies next to each other can easily share conversation. Since they are adult sized Cure and Dawn, sat upon his withers, have plenty of room in their spot.

The benches are big enough for Deed, so the unicorns, while a little cramped, have room to share as well, at least with the way Emerald and Starlight are laying on their stallions’ withers. There are a couple larger, taller benches at the front for the bigger earth ponies too. They’re also large enough for bipedal creatures, not that Cure has ever seen one in Golden Hills.

“Still miffed about that. You know my opinion on thieves,” he growls.

“Right, right,” his sire nods along, then he and Title despondently repeat the mantra they’ve heard seemingly hundreds of times over the last two weeks. “The only good thief is a dead one.”

Vines, opposite the foals in the same alcove, looks out the window and lets out a disappointed sigh. “I’m not sure which is worse; him growling it out all the time or you two repeating it.”

“Uhh,” Haze mutters, looking at the group somewhat warily.

“That sounds about like what I would expect,” Solar points out. “Any updates, dad?”

Haze shakes his head no. “Very little, I’m afraid.” Haze pauses and confirms the Sound Bubble is active before continuing. “There are plans in the works to either recover the trees or, at least, identify the perpetrators, but I’m sorry to say I cannot discuss them with anypony.”

Solar raises a single brow in question, but Haze simply shakes his head. “Sorry, son. Direct orders. Truth be told, I know very little myself. An investigation is underway but it is not, as far as I know, being conducted by local guard units.”

“We let my grandsire know,” Deed mentions, “but with no good description there ain’t much ta do. The trees look odd enough, if anypony sees ‘em we’ll hear about it, I reckon. Still, he said he’ll check around to see if anypony knows a unicorn that takes jobs like that. Said the fella probably was from outta town.”

Cure nods in agreement. “Yeah, they look odd but they would be pretty easy to cram in a big enough spatial bag or trunk, I guess. It doesn’t freakin matter, though. I was going to give those away in a couple months and I can make a dozen of them in under an hour. I’m just worried somepony will overdose or have some bad reaction or something.”

“I thought you said they should be safe,” Dawn comments from above.

“New treatments must always be tested, honey,” Emerald explains. “And presumably Cure has not had any opportunity to do actual live testing on ponies, correct?”

“Exactly,” Cure agrees. “Mom or dad said they would take them to test them out, but I didn’t want to be accused of giving untested drugs to somepony, willingly or not.”

Emerald looks at the pair slightly alarmed, but Title simply shrugs and points out, “If one of us had a bad reaction Cure would be right there. We would’ve been fine.”

“While I appreciate your faith in me, there still wouldn’t be any point either.” Cure turns back to Solar explaining, “It’s not like any data I would gather would be used, probably. The whole point is to get independent verification that it all works. If we tested it and it went perfectly we’d just be accused of fudging the numbers. Besides, two samples aren’t enough and I was leery of having mom do anything since she’s feeding Savvy.”

“Colt don’t mind testin on his ‘ol pa, though,” the dark stallion teasingly grumbles.

“Meh, you’d be fine,” Cure dismisses. “Anyhow, ticked as I am that somepony stole them, I just don’t see what the point is. Even if it takes me months to make another set, that’s not a huge setback.”

“Maybe somepony is trying to find out how to make something the trees won’t stop,” Title suggests.

“That… is a terrifying prospect,” Haze worriedly replies.

“Yeesh, I had not considered that at all, ma.”

“Well, is it possible?” she asks.

“I guess? I don’t care for the implications. The only reason you would want to do that is if you were making something pretty nasty. Still, they would have to even hear about the trees to know to send somepony to get them. The only ponies that knew about the trees, knew they were ready, and knew they would be outside of the house are us and the ones that have been reading the sarge’s reports.”

All eyes move to Haze and, begrudgingly, he nods in agreement. “Assuming you’ve told nopony else, I can’t help but agree. I’m guessing you do not typically discuss such matters with anypony?”

Solar, Dawn, and all three parents have to hold back a laugh at the suggestion Cure would willingly tell anypony anything about his activities. Seeing all their reactions along with the colt shaking his head no Haze nods in acceptance. “I thought not.”

Solar can’t help but agree. “I would bet my last bit that, not only has he not told anypony, he’s probably done something to make sure nopony would try to steal them again, huh?”

“I’m not admitting anything,” Cure starts, “but suffice to say any would-be thief that comes to my house is gonna regret it. It just sucks there wasn’t anything I could do about the trees themselves.”

“I’m surprised you didn’t have them boobytrapped,” Dawn says.

“There’s not much I could do with a quote-unquote ‘Medical Device’ unfortunately. Any safety measure I put in the things could trigger inadvertently. I would rather the stupid things be stolen than have some bizarre future scenario play out where somepony gets hurt because they accidentally trigger something.”

“That would also have made them more complicated,” Title explains. “We discussed that a few times when we were designing them.”

“He had some neat ideas for the trees we had to leave out too,” Vines adds. “Bioluminescent effects, reactions to spoken word or even music, that kind of stuff. Adding them in would just make the whole thing more complicated and we all wanted them to be ready in time.”

“Yep,” Cure agrees. “They have some of the bioluminescent stuff, but only to indicate when a new sample is being processed or when the tree’s low on something like water or nutrients.”

The unicorns all nod in acceptance of that. The colt is right; great care has to be taken when setting up wards and physical security to ensure they work properly under any scenarios that are likely to happen. There’s little room for error in a device that could see such widespread use as his Origin and Blood Trees are likely to.

Seeking to change the subject and, hopefully, dispel some of the annoyance the colt is showing over the topic, Solar instead focuses on the day’s events. “So, what’d you think of the fort? Pretty impressive, wasn’t it?”

Cure’s parents all nod but he can’t help but shrug disappointedly. “It was okay, I guess. Seems small.”

“Small?!” Haze and Solar reply in unison. Title can’t help but chuckle. She and the others have to frequently remind Cure that Ed’s memories have made him used to everything being scaled up much higher than what he’ll normally encounter.

Dawn pokes him in an ear with her snout. “What were you expecting?”

“I dunno, like… ten, twenty times that size, minimum. The whole thing looked barely bigger than a half dozen city blocks. How many cadets graduated with you? It only seemed like a few hundred.”

“Yeah, that’s about right,” Solar agrees. “Three hundred and fifty, I think.”

“Right,” Haze agrees, “enough to bring in plenty of fresh recruits for Baltimare, Fillydelphia, and the surrounding communities. Swoop and Sabot are both reaching the end of their enlistment, so hopefully we’ll get another flier and an earth pony to replace them.”

“Ooh! Ya need some help, sarge? When summer gets here I can do some ride-alongs!”

“Ride along?” Haze repeats, looking at his wife in confusion.

When she, Solar, and Starlight all shrug, Cure excitedly nods, “Yeah, sarge, ya know, hop in a set of armor and go bust some perps with ya. Maybe kick down a few doors, do a couple enhanced interrogations, ya know… really crack some skulls,” he emphasizes, clapping his hooves together, briefly drawing Savvy’s attention.

“I suspect you may have an unrealistic expectation of a typical day in the Guard, Cure,” his mom flatly suggests. She’s seated on the other side of the divider to Cure’s left with Savvy on her back, laying on her dam’s side while chewing on some plushie sock toys Cure had made.

“Yeah, probably. It’s probably boring as fudge mosta the time. What’s your actual work day like, sarge? Roll in, do paperwork, hoof out patrol routes, maybe give the troops an FYI on anything unusual, then go walk around just to keep from falling asleep at yer desk?”

Haze opens his mouth to argue, pauses, lets out a sigh, and dejectedly agrees. “That’s surprisingly accurate, as a matter of fact. For most days, at least.”

“Huh. Yeah that sounds awful.”

“It’s a job,” Haze defends with a shrug. “I don’t think anypony would be happy if my coworkers and I were busier.”

“I suppose we do want the local law enforcement to have little reason to stay busy,” he agrees. “How about you, Mrs. Aura, how’s the new po-zitch workin out?”

With a beaming smile Emerald answers, “Far better than the previous one. Thank you for asking, Cure. Not to mention pointing out the usefulness of my talent. All those years…” she sighs wistfully. “Working with the surgical teams is far more satisfying, not to mention the increased pay. It’s a shame I have to commute, though.”

“Cool. Glad it’s working out. We could always hook ya up with a pretty set of wings if you wanted to try flyin there,” he teases.

“Sun and stars, no!” she instantly declines. With a suspicious look she adds, “You said wings would only work on a pegasi. Is that not the case?”

“Nah, I said that pegasi have to reduce their mass with their aura to get off the ground. There’s a unicorn spell that I bet does the same thing. Interested?”

“That spell is exhausting, Cure,” Haze points out. “Though cast with a shorter duration it is probably doable. I don’t believe my Emmy would care for flying, though.” He looks up to find her emphatically shaking her head no, confirming her husband’s opinion.

“Is that a spell you have access to, sarge? I bet we could put that in the mid-high crystal and play with it some.”

“I”m not certain it would even fit in a mid-high, Cure. I suppose at a reduced duration it may, but yes. It’s in the approved spellbook for unicorn guards. Normally it lasts three days, but it also takes a joint cast ritual to perform… or an extremely powerful unicorn. I believe the lowest power is an hour.”

“Is that the same book that had the communications spells?”

“Yes.”

“Is that something civilians are allowed to have?”

“No, it has a few area-affecting spells that are restricted.”

“That sucks. I don’t suppose I could convince you to make a copy of the book minus any restricted spells, could I?”

“I could do it,” Solar volunteers. “I’m allowed to have access to the whole book now. I don’t mind pulling out the ones you’re not allowed to have. Is that okay, dad?”

“Yes, that’s fine. I would like to double check it before you’re done, though. It’s unnecessary, but I wouldn’t want you to get in trouble if you accidentally miss one. There’s only a few approved restricted spells anyhow.”

“Awesome. Maybe we can add those to your repertoire, babe. I’m sure there’s gotta be some that are hard to cast that the guard could use as crystals.” With a thoughtful look he asks, “Hey sarge, when we met with my lawyers they said there’s an approval process ponies can go through to get access to typically restricted spells or classes of magic. Is that anything you have experience with?”

“Yes, actually. It’s the regional guard commander that has to approve those requests before they move up the line to the Archmage’s Assembly for final approval. There’s paperwork, a background check normally, and you have to have a valid reason for requesting access to them beyond mere curiosity.”

“Valid such as you’re providing enchanted crystals to the guard?”

“I… believe that may qualify. Typically one must be an adult to go through that process, though there are exceptions to every rule. Dawn, being my daughter, would probably be able to get approval a little easier, but likely not for a few years even still. I realize that sounds unfair, but the assumption is that I would be aware of what she is doing, which I would, of course.”

“Huh. Neat.” Turning back to Emerald he says, “You’re sure you wouldn’t want to have that in a crystal? It sounds insanely convenient.”

“I would,” Title volunteers. “If for nothing else just to see what it’s like.”

“It does sound interesting,” Solar agrees. “You could recharge the crystal before bed, fly to work, charge it at lunch, and fly home, dam. The spell supposedly takes care of the whole ‘needing to know how to fly’ part, so at the very least it may be useful to have on hoof.”

“I think I would rather have a Sending crystal, honey. I would be terrified something would go wrong and I could fall.”

“Slow Fall,” Cure instantly suggests. “It would be wise to have a backup. Dawn could make a whole stack of unpowered Slow Fall scrolls. Keep two on you, charged, when you’re flying and, in all likelihood, you would only need eight a year… that’s probably only ten bits in supplies. Heck, even counting the crystal purchase you’d probably end up saving money over commuting via train after a year or so.”

“Your logic is sound, Cure, but I think I would rather take the train.”

“Fair. Flyin’s not for everypony. I think it’s less scary as an earth pony because we’re so resilient. So, have they started usin my Origin Cell trees in the ER yet?”

“They have tentatively approved their use, but only in dire emergencies. The seeds only finished maturing a few days ago. Hopefully within a couple months they’ll be approved for general use. I’m certain recovery times will plummet as a result.”

“Cool beans. Any word on the blood one?”

“They’re waiting on test results for those, I believe.”

“Blood one?” Solar asks.

“Yep, took a lotta pony sacrifices to the dark gods to be blessed with that one.”

“CURE!” Vines shouts, scowling at the colt.

“What? They know I’m teasing. Look,” he says, pointing at hoof at the four and glancing up at Dawn. Starlight is the only one that didn’t sigh and roll her eyes and even she only raised an amused brow.

“Your dam is right, Cure,” Haze admonishes, “We know you’re joking, but cults and the like are no laughing matter.”

“Wait, you’re telling me that there’s actual legitimate cults out there?”

“There certainly are. There was a group of Lunar fanatics rounded up just a few years ago in Whinnyapolis, in fact.”

“That’s just freaking stupid,” he dismisses. “What kinda moron thinks joining a cult is gonna improve their circumstances?”

“Sad, desperate ponies will sometimes make very foolish decisions, Cure,” Haze explains. “You certainly can’t deny you’ve been quite fortunate in your young life. Not everypony can say the same.”

“True. I’ve joked a few times about having a really lame villain origin story. Whinnyapolis, though?” he muses. “Are you sure it wasn’t just a buncha bored, half drunk ponies huddled together tryin to stay warm?”

“I’m fairly confident they were not,” Haze flatly replies. “From the reports they seemed quite dedicated to their cause.”

Title asks, “What were they trying to do exactly?”

“Supposedly they were under the impression they could summon some kind of creature and defeat the princess,” he scoffs. “There’s a reason they call crazy ponies lunatics.”

“Were they hurting ponies?” Dawn asks.

“Yes, glowbug… they were. Don’t worry, sweetie; those fools won’t be hurting anypony else.”

“Executed?” Cure casually asks, getting horrified looks from Emerald, Vines, and Starlight.

“No, though that may have happened to the leaders had they not fought to the death. The few lower ranking members that were captured are going through therapy and rehabilitation, I believe.”

“Huh. Well, sarge, if something crazy like that happens around us let me know.” Cure has to hold a hoof up to pause the round of objections from everypony. “Obviously I’m not suggesting I go rushing in, but I bet with a little notice I could whip up something like I used on those muggers.”

“Muggers?” Starlight quietly echoes.

“I was under the impression Solar stunned them,” Emerald says while glaring at Dawn.

“He did,” Cure responds. “Stunned all three of them, in fact. Two of them I had hit with a paralytic sneeze first, though.”

Starlight stares at Cure with a bewildered look. “You paralyzed them with a sneeze?”

“Yup. Wasp venom. Do you know how wasps feed their babies?”

Starlight shakes her head no and, before Cure can explain, Dawn excitedly jumps in. “They sting other bugs which paralyzes them, then drag them to the nest for their larvae to eat alive.”

Emerald’s eyes flick nervously between her daughter and Cure while she tries to think of what to say. Dawn shrugs and explains, “We talked about it after it happened. He can duplicate venom glands.”

“I’m not sure if I should be impressed or horrified,” Starlight comments.

“It’s a very potent ability,” Haze says. “Most creatures with venom produce very limited quantities. Presumably you do not have that limitation?”

“Nah. That does remind me; one of the first things we talked about when I got my mark was making antivenoms for hospitals.”

“Kinda forgot about that, huh, Cure?” Title teases.

“Sure did,” he admits.

“Those could be useful,” Emerald agrees, “though I do not believe I would prioritize them. Few die from venomous creatures, especially in this region with a larger percent of earth ponies than the other tribes. Unicorns tend to venture out less and pegasi are rarely on the ground where they would encounter anything truly dangerous.”

“I may be able to convert one of the trees for it. I hadn’t really thought about it before, but that seems like a good idea. Either that or make different fruit-producing plants for the different venom classifications in an area.” He sighs, thinking for a moment before adding. “I’ll get to them sooner or later. As you’re aware, I’ve been keeping pretty busy lately.”

“You certainly have,” Haze agrees. “Speaking of staying busy, Dawn’s private ven…” he pauses to glance at Savvy, “venture,” he continues with a smirk when she looks his way, “has paid off well.”

“Oh yeah? Making the big bits now, sissy?”

“A few thousand!” she excitedly cheers. “The hospital ordered a bunch of mid-low and a dozen mid Sending for their doctors and EMT teams! Daddy and Sergeant Bulwark have gotten messages from a few of the sergeants over the different precincts in Baltimare that may be interested too. I’m still waiting for Early to get in the mids I ordered, though.”

“Congrats, Dawn babe!” Deed cheers. “I didn’t think the Guard pays as much though. Didn’t you say something about that, son?”

“He’s right,” Haze answers. “The Guard certainly pays less than the hospital does for those. Different budget guidelines, unfortunately. No enchanter in the region is willing to risk ruining crystals on complex spells like Sending for the one third markup we’re allowed to pay.”

“Damn,” Solar grunts out, “it sucks we didn’t think of that before I joined. I don’t think I can sell to guard units now.”

“No, and if you get your certifications they’ll have you making them instead of buying the crystals from your sister, assuming you are assigned locally,” Haze explains. “Of course that means you can’t submit enchanting supply expenditures for reimbursement until you do get the certificate.”

“So if he is deployed locally he can either get his certs and, inadvertently, cut off Dawn but be able to get reimbursed for his own stuff, or not get his certs and have to pay for his own supplies?” Title asks.

“Exactly.”

“It sounds like we would be better off if I didn’t get my certs right away then,” Solar notes.

“That’s likely the case,” Haze agrees. “If you are going to enroll in the Artillery school or the Medic Corps there’s no immediate need regardless. Chances are you’ll be deployed for only a few weeks before shipping out again.”

“Still no idea where they’re sending you?” Cure asks.

“No. It definitely won’t be Golden Hills, but there’s a pretty decent chance it’ll be Baltimare, so I’ll probably still be around.”

“Hopefully it’ll be local,” Starlight starts, “I still have five months before my lease is up. By then we should be able to afford an apartment.”

“Yer movin out, Solar?” Deed asks.

“Nah, not until her lease is up, at least.”

“I have a roommate and I don’t think she’d be happy with him suddenly joining us.” She looks thoughtful for a few seconds and, with a mischievous smirk adds, “Well, maybe…” she trails off, giving his ear a nip and earning a weak glare from Emerald.

“Go get ‘em, tiger!” Cure quietly cheers for the blushing older colt.

“Speaking of new living arrangements,” Solar quickly says in an attempt to change the subject, “when are you going to start looking for a new place?”

“We already have been, sort of. Halfheartedly, at least,” Title quickly responds. “Ideally we can find a place before the twins get here.”

“Oh? I was unaware you were looking to move,” Emerald says. “Staying in Golden Hills, I assume?”

Deed nods, answering, “Yep. We’re looking at the area a bit northwest of downtown.”

“Yeah,” Cure adds, “there’s some nice houses over there near where Midnight Gem and Onyx Mark live, just a little further out from Rising’s place. It’ll kinda suck to move away from Heavy, though.”

Dawn nuzzles the top of his head. “We’ll still do our runs and he can always Send you a message.”

“That’s a nice neighborhood,” Solar notes, “Different school district, though, right?”

Title shakes her head no, explaining, “Nah, you have to live a bit farther away from downtown before that’s an issue. Besides, Cure’s done after May anyhow.”

Giving the older colt a smug look, Cure reminds him, “Yeah, I think somepony owes me a shake.”

Solar’s brow furrows in thought. “Oh yeah. Kinda forgot about that.”

“I’ll let it slide this time.”

“How magnanimous of you,” Solar comments. Turning to his parents he explains, “I bet he wouldn’t test beyond a certain level in math. He did.” Turning back to the colt he lightly accuses, “In my defense that was before I knew he could memorize literally anything like math formulas.”

“Ah,” Haze nods in acceptance. “Speaking of memorizing things, Cure, how are your magic studies going, hmm?”

Cure feels Dawn stiffen up on his withers and notices her sire’s eyes flick up to her then back to meet his before he smiles smugly. “Umm… interesting?” he hesitantly admits. He notices all three parents briefly glance his way, his dam sighing again as she returns to looking out the window.

“I’m confused,” Starlight admits. “He’s taking magic lessons?”

Solar smirks at the colt, asking, “How’d you let that one slip, dude?”

“What? A customer of mine used to teach. Who says an earth pony can’t learn more about magic?”

Haze rolls his eyes and assures him, “Cure, I am not under orders to share every tidbit of information I learn about you with anypony. Why do you think I am okay with Solar sharing spells with you? At this point I would be shocked if you could not grow a functioning horn. You are free to use your talent how you see fit as long as you are not breaking the law.”

“Really? I kinda assumed there was a file somewhere where anything I can do gets added to the list.”

“Why would there be such a file? You’re fully vetted. For goodness sake, Cure, you were visited by the princess herself. You’re certainly not under some kind of investigation. Do you have any idea how few ponies have her highness show up at their door for a visit?”

“Umm… no. How many?”

The stallion pauses his answer to think for a second. “I… can’t honestly say I know either,” he admits. “Like your visit, I’m sure many are unannounced. Still, you are the first in the Baltimare area that I am aware of over the last decade, at least for a private citizen. She occasionally attends official functions and, I believe, she visited the mayor once a few years ago for Hearth’s Warming, but I am unaware of her just… dropping by to visit a civilian.”

“Huh… cool. Oh well, I was going to officially tell her when we visited next month anyhow. Yeah, I can use a horn.”

Starlight starts to open her mouth but is cut off when Emerald yells out. “I knew it!” she hisses. When everypony looks at her surprised she scoffs. “Please, he all but admitted it when I asked after we went shopping in Baltimare.”

“True,” he admits, “Regardless, I’m at the basics of the basics in my studies. To my utter lack of surprise my… our,” he nuzzles up into Dawn’s chin, “tutor isn’t going to send anything to a couple eight year-”

“Nine,” Dawn haughtily corrects, getting amused chuckles from the adults.

Sighing deeply, Cure continues, “young foals,” he pauses to glare until Dawn shrugs, “that’s beyond an introduction. It’s still fascinating and I’m learning a lot just seeing the way magic is shaped through the runic system. Stuff that made no sense before is starting to kinda click even if there’s nothing useful I can do with it yet.”

“You should treasure whatever knowledge your teacher is willing to share, Cure,” Haze insists. “Precious few unicorns ever get an opportunity to glimpse into that world. To be fair, most don’t even bother learning their runic alphabet, so teaching direct casting to most would be a complete waste. If you can learn it, though…” he trails off with a shudder. “Suffice to say, there is little you won’t be able to accomplish.”

“You never took classes, sir?”

“I did,” he admits. “Sadly I lacked the aptitude for it, or at least the patience to stick with it. That’s fine with me, though. Simply memorizing runic sequences is complex enough. I, like most unicorns, didn’t have the desire to study and practice enough to bypass the shortcuts offered by runes.”

“Yeah, same here,” Solar agrees. “I’ll probably learn some of that junk in Artillery school, but I’m good just using runes.”

“Light is enough for me,” Starlight adds. “I have zero interest in sitting around trying to do whatever it is you’re talking about.”

“Well I don’t think I know enough to teach, but the gist from what I’ve gathered so far is that when you’re casting a spell by vibrating your horn the magic naturally flows out of you to create, basically, a container holding instructions that are fueled by magic, which once completed and released alter reality in some way.”

“Yep, that’s enough for me,” she insists. “I’ve never noticed anything along those lines.”

“You wouldn’t unless you focused on the sensation of magic gathering and forming during casting. Most unicorns just vibrate out the runes without paying attention,” he explains. “That’s what I was doing, and really, that’s fine. They’re consistent and they work, but they’re also massively limited. You’re trading flexibility for ease of use.”

“They’re also far safer,” Haze reminds him. “With more predictable results, even if not cast perfectly. I’m just curious what exactly your teacher shared with you that could have contributed to this level of insight. It’s well beyond what I would consider the ‘basics of the basics.’”

“Yeah, none of that was in what she sent,” Dawn agrees. “He says it’s like a book he read, though.”

“It’s very similar to a piece of fiction I remember. At least, the underlying mechanics match up. Of course my magic pool is so small right now there’s very little I can do with the information, but the plus side is that I can actually see why a rune is used in a specific spot, so I’ve started getting a feel for how to cast and alter spells that way.”

Haze’s brows shoot into his mane in shock. “You can actually cast like that?”

“The memory trick I abuse the fudge out of takes half the challenge away. I’ve only played with Light so far. The different settings are fun. Dawn really liked the strobe one,” he responds with a smirk.

She reaches down and chomps on his ear, growling. Ready for the filly’s attack, Cure immediately detaches the ear at the base and lets out a gasp, quietly hissing, “Oh noes! She’s eatin mah ear!”

Absolute pandemonium erupts as Solar and Starlight almost fall off their benches, Dawn drops the ear out of her mouth and starts crying while wrapping her hooves around Cure, Savvy follows, bursting out in tears, and Emerald leaps off her husband to render assistance. Cure’s parents all look on impassively while Title calms her daughter down.

Cure instantly holds up a hoof, stopping the blue mare in her tracks. “Nice reaction, Mrs. Aura, but I’m fine.” He nuzzles up into the filly’s chin asking, “Why are you crying, Dawn? Jeez, it’s just an ear. The stars saw fit to grace me with a spare,” he insists in an odd accent, wiggling his other one. Emerald freezes in the aisle when she realizes he is fine, then returns to her husband’s withers huffing in annoyance.

After a few more seconds of freaking out Dawn realizes what he did, sits up, and pummels his withers. Cure sits there flatly saying, “Ouch. Oof. More to the left. Yeah, that’s the spot.” further annoying the filly until Emerald finally calls her name.

“I can’t believe you did that to me! I thought I hurt you!”

“Aww but baby!” he coos, nuzzling into her chin, “the only way you could really hurt me is if ya broke my heart!”

“Grr!” she growls, latching on to his other ear and lightly thrashing back and forth with it in her teeth.

“Hey!” he whines below her. “You said you would make a necklace outta ‘em. And don’t be salty with me. You’re the one that bit me, after all!”

“Fine!” she huffs, lifting his ear back up in front of him.

He reaches out to grab it, inspecting the appendage. “Aww, ya got spit all over it. Gross, babe!”

“Oh shut up!” she growls, jabbing him in his side again. “It’s your own fault, you crazy pony. You scared me to death!”

“Like a married couple,” Solar comments, getting a snicker from Starlight and agreeing nods from the other adults. Cure just shrugs innocently and Dawn glares at her brother.

“Behave, you two,” Haze glowers at the foals. “We’ll be pulling into the station here in just a moment.”

Deed looks at Haze and pats his saddlebag. “If’n ya don’t mind we’ll swing by yer place before we head home. The colt’s got a couple things fer yer son.”

“No, not at all,” Haze insists. “You’re always welcome to drop by. I hope you didn’t go too wild, Cure.” Cure’s response is nothing but a shrug and an innocent look back to the stallion.

“So, what are ya doin tonight?” Cure asks, poking the red colt.

“Sleeping. All night long. And anypony that wakes me up before ten o’clock tomorrow is going to have Tartarus to pay,” Solar says warningly as he looks at his parents. “I haven’t slept past six o’clock for the last three months and I am so far beyond exhausted it’s not even funny.”

“Aww, come on, son,” Haze teases. “You don’t want to get up early and go jogging with your sire for the fun of it?”

“Dear, when have you ever got up early and jogged?”

“Umm… twentyish years ago? I think?”

“Hrm. Not as I recall. No, I’m fairly certain you barely passed Basic because you weren’t in shape,” Emerald accuses. “In fact, I believe you said nearly the same thing as our son when you finally graduated.” She turns to face Cure and continues, “I know you joked about memories, but I wonder sometimes if he isn’t truly beginning to become forgetful.”

“Well, Mrs. Aura, if you’re down with me experimentin on yer stallion I can certainly see about upgrading them memory sectors. Maybe add a few down his spine… might wanna see about adding some other upgrades in there too.”

“Upgrades?” Haze nervously inquires.

“Oh yeah, absolutely. Did you know that ponies only have one heart, for example?”

“I… think I’ve heard that mentioned,” he slowly nods.

“That’s so dumb!” Cure raves. “Design flaw, I say. Ya got more than one lung, dontchya? Why would you only have one heart when it’s so important? Riddle me that!”

“I believe most creatures only have one,” Haze points out, looking at his wife for confirmation, who nods in agreement.

“Cephalopods don’t! They got the whole thing figured out,” Cure confidently declares.

“Squids?” Title asks.

“Yep! I haven’t scanned one yet, but they have more than one heart. I remember reading it somewhere. I think.”

“I don’t think I need a second heart,” Haze defends, then with a worried look asks, “Why? Was there something wrong with mine?”

“Nah, but you can never be too sure, ya know?”

“Right,” he patronizingly nods. “And I’m sure you’ve given yourself multiple hearts just to be safe?”

Face full of disappointment, Cure admits, “I still only have the one, but at least I can keep an eye on it in case it decides to act up.”

“Of course. How silly of me.”

“Can ponies have a second heart?” Starlight asks. “Where would you even put it?”

“I think maybe if we rearrange yer intestines a bit we could sneak another one in there. Interested? I’ll throw in a backup liver as a freebie.”

Quickly shaking her head no, Starlight politely declines the offer.

“I’m beginning to suspect we maybe should have a file on you somewhere,” Haze comments.

“Jeez, I’m just being helpful.”

“No offering to modify ponies, sweetie,” Vines tells him. “Well, beyond what you offer at work, that is.”

“Fine, fine. Well Solar, you graduated from Basic. We all were pretty sure you had it in you,” he says as he reaches over and gives the older colt a friendly pat on the shoulder.

Dawn, Cure, Solar, and Starlight are all taking up the center couch again. Haze and Emerald are once again on the one closest the kitchen to their right and Deed is sitting on the floor behind the third couch, entertaining Savvy by making silly faces at her while she rolls around between the moms.

“I appreciate the vote of confidence,” Solar flatly remarks. “Heartwarming, really.”

“I bet,” Cure agrees. “And now it’s time for me to make good on a couple promises.”

“Promises?” Emerald asks.

“Yep. One from a while back, another from when he came home that first time.” Shooting the colt a wink he adds, “And I got ya something for when you’re out there being Mr. Hardflank McGuardypants.”

“Oh… the leg guard? Were you able to come up with something?”

“Yep, though this is the basic model. If you want something more advanced I have ideas, but I doubt you need them for normal guard stuff.”

“I think your idea of a basic model should be fine for anything short of all-out war, Cure.”

“Yea, probably,” he agrees. “Alright, so first up is the store-bought one!” Cure hops up and goes to his sire’s saddle bags and digs into the right bag. He’d written to the company inquiring about safety precautions built into the units and because he recalled a vague, yet worrying spatially compressed destruction arrow memory from Ed’s nerdier days.

Specifically, he inquired about what would happen if one spatially compressed item went into another. He was relieved to find out that the answer was, more or less, nothing. In the case of the scroll book it meant that it would go into a spatial bag just like any other normal bag, but could not be compressed. The enchantment on the book prevented the enchantment on the bag from compressing it so it just sat there in the bag like it would in any other bag.

The company had told him that on the extraordinarily rare instances a bag failed, which was allegedly only something that happened when sufficient damage was caused to the unit, the belongings would not explode out, but instead “spill” out as if the bag were simply being dumped.

Apparently the last act of the enchantment would be to mitigate the speed at which the items were ejected, which makes the “umbilical cord” idea he considered feasible. He’d already developed the cardiopulmonary system that will allow the cells on the other side of the bag’s opening to transfer oxygen and nutrients through the blood-blocking enchantment.

He’d considered ordering a half dozen coin purses almost right away, but limited himself to only two instead. Each costs about two thousand bits and has the internal volume of, roughly, ten liters. Normal muscle is about a kilogram per liter and his denser muscle design is about double that, so each purse he adds will increase his effective mass by about a quarter at present.

He withdraws the gift from the bag and tosses it up to his head. Turning to look at everypony, he shrugs, moves the book out of the way, and pops his horn out. He trots back over to the couch while floating the box over to the colt. Despite now being told he could use a horn Haze, Emerald, and Starlight all freeze, staring with huge saucer eyes.

“That’s from all of us, by the way, not just me. My parents wanted to chip in for you too.” At their continued stares he looks their way and shrugs. “What? I literally just told ya like twenty minutes ago I could. You didn’t think I was making stuff up, did ya?”

“No,” Emerald answers, shaking her head. “But seeing one just suddenly pop out of your mane like that… how did you even do that?”

“I built a series of muscles and a sheath for it to slide in, basically,” rather than detail everything verbally he simply casts an illusion, showing an x-ray view of the horn extending and retracting. “I keep it segmented to the left of my spine going down my neck, normally.”

“That’s… brilliant, frankly,” Haze compliments. “And I can’t help but note neither of our foals looked even slightly surprised,” he lightly accuses, looking at the pair.

Solar easily responds with a shrug, “I swore an oath on the first day I met Cure that I would keep his secrets to myself. I’ve known for months.” Dawn simply nods in agreement.

“Months?” Emerald echoes. “How long have you been able to do unicorn magic?”

“September eleventh,” he immediately answers, then with furrowed brows adds, “A date I’ll never forget,” under his breath. “I only tried making a horn because the enchanting book I got from the library was so friggin confusing we couldn’t make heads or tails of it until I tried normal casting.”

“He’s gotten really good, too,” Dawn insists.

“I imagine learning enchanting would be difficult with no base understanding of casting,” Haze agrees. “Hrm. Well, that aside, what do you have there, son?”

Solar looks at the gift and mumbles, “A book? Seems small, though,” as he tears the wrapping paper off. He’s right, of course. The scroll books are only about the size of a hoof and a centimeter thick. They’re made to be convenient to carry or store, so they fit easily into the pockets on the inside of Guard armor as well as any coat. “A scroll book? That’s… amazing! How’s it work though?”

“I have a few scrolls here for you to see,” Cure says, reaching in the pack and grabbing a few sheets of inscribed paper. He carries them over and hops back up on the couch next to Solar. Haze climbs off and comes over to take a closer look as well. “Dad’s been carrying one around for a couple weeks now, so we’ve had his to test things with.

“Hold a scroll in your hoof and think of a label for the scroll. Use the enchantment and it’ll store. Do it again and you’ll get the scroll back out. It can store non-magical papers too, but it only holds twenty pieces of paper. I haven’t tested how big of a piece of paper it can hold, though, so you may wanna experiment a bit. Also, I’m not sure if you like… tape pieces together, if they count as one or multiple still.”

“Always cheating, huh dude?”

“You bet. You learn a lot about things by tryin to break ‘em after all. Rules aren’t any different. I mean, if that doesn’t work then maybe you have a good way to untape pieces of paper without tearing them,” he teases with a smirk.

“I’ve never seen one of those before,” Haze comments. “It seems like it could be very useful, though. What scrolls have you got there?”

“Just a few shields and teleports. I didn’t know what he would actually need and he can cast a lot, so I didn’t want to waste a bunch of paper on stuff he won’t use. I recommend you focus primarily on spells that are costly and, or are slow to cast.”

“A good recommendation,” Haze agrees. “That’s a very thoughtful gift, son.” To Cure’s surprise, it’s him that Haze is speaking to, not Solar. He’s not sure if he is reading too much into it or if he’s just calling him ‘son’ because he’s a young colt, but as far as he can recall it’s the first time either of Dawn and Solar’s parents have referred to him by a familiar appellation.

Solar looks over the family warmly, thanking each one in turn. “I really do appreciate it, very much. Thank you all.”

“Thank us by keeping it with you,” Vines insists. “Make sure you keep yourself safe, Solar. That’s all we ask.”

“Well said, babe!” Deed cheers.

“Couldn’t agree more,” Cure says as he hops down and trots back to the bag. He reaches in again withdrawing a set of shin guards this time. “I figured a full-length leg guard would stand out, especially given I’m working with organic compounds here.”

“Yeah, I’m not sure if I want to look like some kind of skeleton lord villain from a comic book,” Solar agrees.

“Right. That’s my schtick anyhow. So my dam and I made these for ya.” Cure passes the pair of black shin guards over to Solar. The young stallion inspects the pair, sliding them onto his forelegs. “They’re lightly armored. The main function is holding the crystals. There’s room for three on each.”

“These are mid-lows?”

“Two are mids, the other four are mid-low. I figured between the spell book and the shinguards you’ll be adequately protected. Plus we can always upgrade the gems if you find you have the need.”

“No, no, that’s fantastic. I can’t imagine I would even need these. Better safe than sorry, though.”

“There’s nothing on any of them at all right now, but I would put a shield in a mid-low, or maybe two of them, then put a heavy attack spell in a mid and maybe a teleport in another, then some stunners or something. Who knows, maybe invisibility? I’m not sure what’ll be most useful. Sending is an obvious pick though.”

“Awesome! Geez, I’m going to look like I’m ready for war.”

“Not really, son,” Haze argues. “Only the two crystals are visible. If you have that spellbook tucked in a bag and you’re wearing those shinguards you won’t really stand out much at all. Everything looks fantastic, everypony.”

Emerald agrees, thanking them all for the gifts meant to keep her son safe.

“There is, of course, one more thing,” Cure says teasingly.

“Not that I’m not grateful, but you’re going a little overboard, aren’t you?”

“Nah, this is one I promised ya,” he says, sitting on his haunches and holding his forehooves up. “Remember when I gave yer sister a massage?” he asks, slowly shifting his hooves to hands.

“Oh no…” Solar mumbles.

“Oh yes,” Cure responds.

Starting to sit up in case she needs to run, Starlight worriedly asks, “Uhh… what’s happening to his hooves?”

“Oh! Sorry, Star. Don’t worry, it’s just easier to use hands than hooves. These things are far better for massages.”

“Ya know what?” Solar starts, pulling off the shin guards and setting them aside. “I’m down. I know I’ll have no problem falling asleep afterwards. Where do you want me?”

“Right there’s fine, bro.”

Starlight looks a little unsure between the two colts. “What’s happening?”

“Cure gives the best massages,” Dawn replies. “He teased Solar about giving him one as a present when he graduated from Basic.”

“Ah, I’ve heard of these,” Haze says. “Corporal Dance said she made an appointment with you for… next Sunday, I believe she said. She’s rather looking forward to it. She’s mentioned it more than once.”

“Yep, I’m offering a special massage service to all the parents of my friends that are hoping for a foal this year. Both Drift and Glacial’s dams have taken me up on it.” With a sly grin he glances over to Emerald, then thinks better of it, and keeps his mouth shut, turning back to his bro instead.

“I’m not sure I’m following the connection,” Starlight admits. “What does a massage have to do with having foals?”

“Nothing directly,” Cure explains. “But I’d already suggested they let me give them a full checkups to ensure optimal health for their upcoming pregnancies. I gave Glacial and Drift massages back on New Year’s Day and they bragged me up to their dams, so I figured I could do the massage and the checkups at the same time.”

He doesn’t mention that it will give him an opportunity to ensure their bodies are going into estrus properly a few days before the effects are felt locally. Hearts & Hooves is the day prior and, typically, the estrus season hits the Baltimare region approximately a week later. The tentative plan is to give them a massage and a checkup, then visit the following weekend to address any fertility issues and offer Glacial’s parent’s the opportunity to have more than one foal at a time.

“The colt’s somethin else when it comes ta massages,” Deed assures them. “Since he started usin hands instead ‘a hooves it’s… well…”

“Almost as good as you-know-what,” Title clarifies, slightly, earning a scowl from Vines.

“Alright, enough of that,” Cure shouts. “I’m not gonna let you make it weird. I do purely medical massages and I keep everything completely professional,” he insists. “I’m not going to lie, they’re kinda intense and, no doubt, very pleasurable-”

“I’ll say,” Dawn quietly agrees. Not quietly enough, judging from Emerald’s harsh stare.

“But nothing inappropriate at all is going on. I promise. I’m perfectly fine doing this right here in front of everypony, after all. So Solar, you down?”

“Stars, yes!” He glances at his parents and adds, “Just toss a blanket on me and leave me here if I fall asleep.”

“I admit I’ve been curious since I saw those,” Emerald nods to Cure’s hands, “back in January.”

“I mean, I can give you a massage after him. Star, sarge, Dawn? Is it going to be a five way unicorn slumber party here in a few minutes?”

“Definitely,” Dawn instantly agrees.

Starlight shoots Solar a curious look. “I’ve gone to the spa before. I’ve had massages. What makes his different?”

“He can directly relax your muscles with his talent while giving them a massage. I’ve only seen it once,” Solar says, nodding to his sister. “She was a drooling mess inside of two minutes.”

Dawn looks on impassively. “I’m not even ashamed. You’ll see.”

“C’mon Solar, you’re gonna be my demonstration. Now something I’ve been doing that helps with leverage and whatnot is using Enlarge. As you can imagine it makes it easier to reach. You ready, bro?”

“Completely,” he says, stretching his fore and back legs out and laying his head down. His hooves hang slightly off of the couch, but pony couches are deep enough that his head and neck are still supported.

Dawn watches as Cure casts Enlarge on himself, going from just a few centimeters taller than herself to just barely taller, though noticeably broader than her brother in a flash. “Wow… it’s weird seeing you like that,” she notes, getting agreeing nods from the others.

“There’s just more of me to love now, babe. Uhh… temporarily.”

“That’s the weird part?” Starlight asks. “I’m still hung up on the earth pony using magic thing.”

Cure climbs up on the couch. Dawn scoots a little further left to make room for the double sized colt.

“He’s been using that to help around the house a lot for the last month or so,” Title explains.

Deed adds, “Yup, he realized how useful it is when the princess stopped by. I gotta admit it’s kinda strange havin ‘em be almost as tall as me, but he ain’t lying about how useful it is.”

“Makes me feel old,” Vines pouts. “It’s like my colt’s all grown up.”

“Vines, dear, you wound me,” Emerald teases with a smile, waving away Vines’ sputtering apologies. Her gaze snaps to her son who, with Cure standing over him, lets out a very undignified moan. The blue colt is using his hands to work on her son’s shoulder, somehow supporting himself on only his hind legs. “How’s he doing that?”

Title covers a hungry Savvy with a blankie while explaining, “He’s holding himself up with earth pony strength and the grabbing TK field we have.”

“I’m bigger, not heavier, Mrs. Aura,” he reminds her.

“That’s right, dear. The spell does not increase mass, so he’s still only about… seventy kilograms?” Haze asks.

“The huge advantage, no pun intended, that the Enlarge spell has is that I’m physically in contact with a larger area,” he explains, motioning with one hand towards his back hooves. “That means that instead of my grabbing having about a hundred and eight square centimeters to grab onto my hooves are each touching about six hundred square centimeters.

“Also, I’m closer to eighty kilograms. I’m a lot thicker than a unicorn,” he points out, motioning between himself and their son. Indeed, he is a solid hoof and a half wider from his shoulders to his haunches, not to mention his significantly larger neck muscles. “Heavier bones and stuff too,” he adds.

“What?!” Dawn yelps. “I only weigh forty eight!”

“He’s far more muscular than you are, honey,” her sire points out. “Eighty does seem a tad high though. You only weigh a little less than my Emmy.” That remark earns him a kiss on the cheek from his delighted wife.

“If only,” she sighs.

“Mrs. Aura, if you’re unhappy with any aspect of your looks, which I assure you is ridiculous, just say the word. If it’s biologically possible I can have you looking however you want. I know the taller, leggier look is often desired. It would take several months to achieve, but it's possible.” The offer seems to intrigue the mare, not to mention her thoughtful looking husband.

“I’m definitely seeing how advantageous hands are,” Starlight says in awe. Cure had finished on Solar’s withers, then sat beside him and worked his way down his back. With his hips being thoroughly massaged Solar couldn’t help but let out an occasional grunt or sigh of relief.

“Yeah,” Cure agrees, “the thing that ponies forget is that, despite the horn, I’m still an earth pony, so my grip is insanely powerful to the point that, if I really wanted to, I could probably break bones with just my thumb, so even without my talent I can give a massage that’s a lot more vigorous than what you’d expect. With it I can push a little harder and know exactly where to target, how hard to massage the area, and when to move on.”

Cure gently rubs down Solar’s left thigh, hamstring, and calf muscles, working out any tension he’d built up over the last three months. “Mind scootin a tad, Star?” he asks, hopping off the back of the couch and getting Solar’s other side.

“Sweet Celestia, no wonder he said he may fall asleep,” Haze observes. “You could offer this service alone and everypony would flock to your door.”

Emerald nods in agreement. “We discussed that after going to Baltimare. His rate of income is far lower even if he charged more for massages since they take so much time.”

“Yeah, he could see two or three ponies in the time it takes to give one massage,” Title explains.

Cure, finished with Solar’s hips, legs, and flanks, trot-crawls around to the front to get his forelegs, rolling Solar onto his left side to get his chest better. He notices Starlight glance back at Solar’s junk for a split second and smirks at the young mare when she looks back. She turns a lovely shade of purple when she’s blushing, he notes.

After a few minutes spent on each leg and his chest, Cure rolls him back onto his barrel and starts at the base of his neck, slowly working up to his head. “I think he’s gone,” Cure says, pausing for a moment, looking into the red colt’s eyes.

“Hm?” he barely mumbles.

“Not quite,” comments Dawn. “Get his ears and horn and he will be.”

“Yup. Brace yerself, bro,” he warns, starting on the colt’s jaw muscles, then gently massaging his cheeks with his thumbs. From there he uses his fingertips to get the base of Solar’s ears, noting how his tail starts wagging a little as a result.

“Oh my stars! His tail’s even wagging like a puppy!” Starlight yells with a laugh.

“Yeah, watch this,” Cure calls, gently grabbing Solar’s cheeks in his palms and using his thumbs on the base of his horn while cheating with his talent to relax the muscles.

The sound that escapes the colt must be one she’s heard before because she instantly blushes a dark violet color at the exaltation. Cure’s parents definitely noticed judging by the barely suppressed snickers from their direction.

“My word,” escapes Emerald as she covers her muzzle with a fetlock, staring in slight alarm.

“Yeah, and here we go,” Cure announces. It’s a bizarre feeling, massaging a horn. He didn’t feel weird doing it to Dawn because it was purely a platonic thing there, regardless of any relationship that may be developing. Hearing the nigh-orgasmic sounds coming from another dude makes Cure feel strange, despite both sets of parents watching and the colt’s marefriend being present.

Obviously nothing sexual is going on at all, and thanks to his invasive scan he knows that those signals aren’t firing in the colt’s brain. It still somehow makes the whole thing awkward though. Dismissing the thoughts as silly, Cure goes back to, basically, wanking his adoptive brother’s horn with slow, twisting motions, working on the base and surrounding muscles every few repetitions up the horn itself.

It only takes about a minute for Solar to go completely limp, though it seems far longer due to the, other than Solar, completely silent room. With another quick pass over the forehead, brows, and cheeks, Cure takes a step back and announces he’s done.

Cure glances mischievously over at a giggling Dawn and with a raised brow asks, “Should I?”

She returns his look confused before he remembers that she was completely out of it when he teased Solar about giving him a kiss too. Choosing not to betray the colt’s trust, he gently lays Solar’s head on the couch and gives him one last ear scroofle before turning to look at the three conscious, awestruck unicorn adults.

“So… who’s next?”

Author's Note

Chapter Title Reference

Solar's done with Basic now! Huzzah! There will three more chapters before the start of the Canterlot II: Electric Boogaloo arc. They are all completed and I'm about 4k into the first chapter of that.

I have been spending less time writing, but that's not because I'm wavering on my commitment to the story. As many folks noticed, I was putting out 18-30k words per week. I was probably spending over 30 hours some weeks writing, which is fine because, again, that's what I would do when I was bored or had downtime. Or had an idea that stuck in my brain so hard I could only pry it out with werdz.

I have plans for posting the Canterlot arc a bit faster, but that'll depend on whether I can get those chapters in addition to some buffer ones afterwards ready ahead of time.

One thing that I kinda wanted to do, but didn't work out, is do the "Cure flies out to meet ships" episode before Canterlot. In chapter 53 he said something about rolling dice and going out on a 12. That's a one out of thirty six chance, so on my story calendar I took all of the Saturdays and actually rolled the dice for each one between him making the suit/plant/thing (2/16/909 AB) and April 25th (the last Saturday before their trip on 4/29). I did not get a 12, which was a little disappointing, but at the same time kind of a relief because the calendar isn't moving forward as fast as I wanted anyhow (he says for the 400th time).

So, I hope you enjoyed and, as always, thanks for reading!

Chapter 57: Cupid's Fluffy Cousin

Author's Note

Because I've been a lazy ass when it comes to keeping the Cast List up to date I figured I should clue in the more visual folks. The little sisters are unnamed prior to this chapter, sort of. Drift does mention her sister, I think, when Cure is learning to fly.

Crosswind Drift - dark purple coat, royal blue mane
Older sister = Wind Shear - off white coat, gold mane
Younger Sister = Swirling Leaf - green coat, light brown mane
Dam = Thunder Dance - white coat, gold mane (like her oldest)
Sire = Tailwind Flare - off-white coat, red mane

Glacial Breeze - platinum coat w/ a blue sparkle (crystal pony heritage), bright blue mane
Sister = Frigid Glaze - blue coat like Cure’s, lighter blue mane
Sire = Rain - gray coat, dark charcoal mane
Dam = Snowstorm Burst - white w/ cobalt sparkle (crystal pony heritage), aqua mane

Chapter 57: Cupid's Fluffy Cousin

Sunday, March 29th, 909 AB (8 days later)

Cure watches through the unicorn aura as Lemon comes up the stairs and starts making her way towards his room. He’s laid on his barrel, one wing draped over each filly, gently holding them to his sides in a warm, protective cocoon that they’ve come to love sleeping in. He has a small pillow under his head between his forelegs and, for all appearances, is sound asleep.

With the three of them snuggling under the sheet Lemon won’t be able make out anything but a big lump in the bed. She’s definitely unaware of the vine going from Cure’s back, down his right wing, under the bed by the wall, through a hole in the plaster, and then up into the plant’s main body, which is housed mostly in the attic.

Moving the plant up there gave Cure access to the roof, allowing him to cover the entirety of it in a layer plant material that easily photosynthesizes enough energy for the plant to thrive even with a suboptimal solar angle, which is improving every day that June 20th gets closer. The dark red leaf-like structures do a good enough imitation of the typical slate roofs in the area that even fliers paid it no mind.

The skin graft experiment with his mom showed that, when connected to another pony, a part of him stops being “him” and starts being “them” after only about five days, give or take. They didn’t bother running the experiment more than a couple times to really nail down the exact figure simply because they were only interested in verifying it wouldn’t happen in just a few hours if one of the parents had to plug in to use the plant’s defense systems.

Thus far only his mom has been brave enough to try it once. She managed fine but said that unplugging was distinctly unpleasant and disorienting. Cure doesn’t have that issue and isn’t sure if it’s because the whole thing is conceptually “him” or if he’s just more used to adapting to different body shapes.

It may have also had something to do with the way the plant is structured being so completely different from a pony’s body. Aside from the central area where the horn structure is located, the plant truly is just a plant.

The only other nervous “system” present is only what’s needed to run down the length of the vines and articulate the few basic weapons systems present. Although he included one large, long range airgun hidden in the central stalk the more distant parts are only armed with short range (5-10 meters, tops) envenomed dart shotguns.

Cure figures that between the venom darts, the magic regeneration, the three hundred meter aura sense, and the “main cannon” there’s probably not a need to add melee weapons. Plus, if he’s plugged in he can do that ad hoc while engaging enemies at range. Once anything gets in the house he figures he’s probably better off pulling the mass down, armoring up, and dealing with it himself.

In order to address the latency issue, Cure created an insulated, sheathed length of nerves running from the plant’s central nexus directly down a stalk in his room. It’s currently hooked directly to his spinal column and allows for significantly improved speed. It’s not a perfect solution as there can still be as much as a second between when he tells a more distant vine to move and when it does, but with the cluster-fire approach he’s taken it should be good enough.

He had experimented with using metal in place of the central stalk and the result was good, if not simple. Using only a shaving of copper from a pan, which his dam was not happy about, he determined it to be a potential substitute for typical nerves, but likely only for central system to central system connections.

Biochemical signals sent through nerves are not exactly the same as electrical impulses sent via conductive metal wires, he’d found. Also, copper is outside of his talent’s scope and cannot be directly manipulated, so he wouldn’t be able to just grow it as his body matures.

Still, copper is so much faster than nerves that even if he has to have a “spare” spool set aside inside his body it’s looking worthwhile to use the material to connect his main neural areas, minus his isolated backup system, to each other with biochemical adapters at each end. That should allow signals to travel long distances at near light speed before plugging into a “router” of a sort that will translate the electrical signal back to a biochemical one for the short distance and send it to the specific muscle being commanded.

On a list of things to test and plan for is whether or not the copper wire could act as a conductor, making electrical attacks against him far more effective. He’s hopeful that he can minimize the risk by including proper insulation, some biological fuses, and taking advantage of the pegasus lightning mitigation aura.

In a society where electricity is mainly limited to hobbyist toys, Cure isn’t sure where to start looking so he can buy a few dozen meters of relatively pure metal. He’d talked to his mom about his project and she was quick to point out that the rail lines do have telegraph machines at metro stations, which Baltimare is. He considered asking them where they buy from, but being a government entity he’d rather keep that as a last resort.

His plan, for now, is to make a spool of two millimeter thick bone cord with as high of calcium content as he can, then remove all of the “living” matter from it with his talent. Transmutation of living matter may work, but he doesn’t want to risk it outside of direct applications of his talent. Regardless, his replicated, if incomplete, periodic table puts calcium as the ‘closest’ he can easily get, material-wise, to copper, so he figures it will be the most magic-efficient source material to use.

He figures if that doesn’t work he can always ask Ferric if she’s able to make a spool of the stuff in wire format. Plan C is to check with Midnight Gem to see if she has any. D will require a trip to the toy store in Baltimare where the train set was captivating the girls on the way to their spa trip, and plan E is to give in and just ask somepony at the rail line where they get theirs.

The limited use of transmutation has been a source of confusion for the colt. Granted, the spell is exhausting, with a single cast using about three quarters of what a mid-high crystal can hold. That’s enough power to transmute about a half of a kilogram of matter, though, which craps all over Cure’s science-based understanding of the universe.

For anypony with any familiarity with human history or even modern power generation ideas, the very suggestion that an average frequent magic-using unicorn has enough power inside them to change between one and two kilograms of matter into another is not only absurd but terrifying.

The notion alone is enough for Cure to suspect that scientific knowledge may be intentionally withheld so nopony gets the insane idea to transmute radioactive isotopes or something like uranium 235 or plutonium 239 or 240 and blow half the country to smithereens.

It’s only thanks to Edward’s frequent wiki crawls and interest in World War II history that Cure knows the materials were used in the Little Boy and Fat Man bombs. He isn’t sure if just suddenly transmuting a kilogram block of the stuff would cause a detonation and is, unsurprisingly, not even the slightest bit interested in finding out. Either way, if ponies know about it and are suppressing that knowledge then that’s something he is wholly in agreement with.

Regardless, it baffles Cure that nopony seems to take advantage of transmutation for most day-to-day things. He had, at one point, considered making the appliances he ended up buying his parents out of transmuted materials, but his capabilities were far more limited before he built his suit. Now the only limits he has are available mass and his own energy production, which means he is, in many ways, a post-scarcity single entity at this point.

As best he can tell there’s only laws specifically against transmuting precious metals and, even though it’s in the same table column as gold and silver, copper is definitely not considered one.

It’s a shame he doesn’t have more materials science knowledge from Edward. The dude wasn’t a scientist, but he was a very curious guy that knew a lot of “surface level” facts even if he was lacking the details that were necessary to get from Step 1 all the way to Step Profit.

The skin graft experiment wasn’t the only one Cure had run to ensure the plant would remain metaphysically a part of him. He had made a few flowers out of the suit’s excess biomass and found that, when not connected to another living creature, his plants still remained “him” for about three weeks.

He’d hoped it would be at least a month just in case he traveled, but the limited timeframe doesn’t exactly make that impossible, it just means that if he wants to keep the plant “him” he may need to check back every two weeks or so.

He’s taken to plugging himself in most nights and, although his mind can still rest almost as well as normal sleep, he maintains a low level awareness that draws his attention when somepony moves towards the house or there’s unusual activity outside. The morning newspaper delivery was the first to cause this, though throughout the night every so often random bat ponies sometimes pass over or near the house as well.

The plant has grown significantly since he first ate the downed tree. Along the back of the house a few longer, thicker vines trail down into the ground where a large network of roots provides the nutrients and water needed. Combined with the solar array and the guidance of a biomanipulator the plant has flourished, more than doubling in mass over the last month, which opens up a few possibilities he’d not considered previously.

One great, if kind of gross example; Cure doesn’t wake up ready to burst every morning anymore. Normally his bladder would be at DEFCON two right now, given that it had to be pushing seven thirty, but with the hook-up to the plant his body is in mint condition and waste-free, ready to tackle the day. And the unsuspecting mare.

Cure slowly eases the girls away from his sides as he disconnects from the plant and prepares to greet the candy mare with an enthusiastic good morning. He quickly nudges the girls both awake and whispers, “Lemon’s comin, get ready for an ambush!” getting excited nods from the pair once his words register.

Unaware of the incoming attack, Lemon barely restrains herself from giggling as she makes her way to the bed, lifts the edge of the sheet up, and pokes her head underneath.

The three don’t hesitate for a second. As soon as Lemon’s snout appears under the sheet he lightens himself and launches at the unsuspecting mare, spinning around her neck and latching onto her back. “INTRUDER! GET HER!” he shouts over the startled mare’s yelp as the fillies leap off of the bed to assist.

The three soon have the yellow mare rolling on the ground being tickled to death, ignoring their mom’s pleas for mercy. They’re vicious with their assault, wrestling and playing for a few minutes until they come to a stop with Lemon on her back nearly breathless, Cure draped across her chest, and the girls further down on her belly.

With the rest of the family at the park, Title makes her way to the studious colt. She flops on top of him, fully laying on his back and looking over his shoulders at the Guard book Solar had copied for him and delivered just a couple days prior. “So… anything good in there?” she asks, resting her head on top of his, her cheek gently rubbing against his horn.

“Oh yeah, absolutely,” he says, carefully nodding. “That unicorn flight spell is in here. Haze was right about it being a doozie, but it’s not like we need to power the thing to full, so my suggestion to Emerald wasn’t a bad one. Shame she’s not down for tryin, but oh well,” he finishes with a shrug.

“I can’t blame her for not being enthusiastic about it,” Title says. “Even if I knew I would be fine the idea of being even ten meters off the ground and having the spell fail sounds pretty scary.”

“Right, hence the Slow Fall scrolls as a backup,” he argues. “Or just learn the damn spell. It’s a low level spell and she is a unicorn. Though ten meters is pretty low. You would wanna be higher so you have more time to respond.”

“That wouldn’t help if she panicked. In fact, it would make her more likely to panic.”

“I guess,” he surrenders the point with a sigh. “She doesn’t strike me as the ‘excels under pressure’ type.”

“Not like that, no. I don’t think most ponies would react well to unexpectedly falling, though.”

“Eh, do a little flight training like pegasi do before hoofin the things out. It wouldn’t be that hard to hit somepony with Cloud Walk, put one under them, and have them do some basic crash survival exercises. Make it a three year renewable flight license requirement or whatever. The spell gives you freaking butterfly wings, so it’s not like it’s hard to identify who’s using it.”

“That’s not a bad idea, Cure. You could even include the first set of lessons with the crystal purchase.”

“Huh… I wonder if the girls would be interested in doing that. Maybe I’ll put a bug in their ears, see if that’s something they would be down for.”

Cure feels his mom shaking with mirth on top of him. When she turns her head to laugh he cranes his head back and up to meet her eye. Giggling, she explains, “I don’t think that means what you think it means.”

“Uhh… it means to give somepony a heads up or recommend something.”

Snorting, she shakes her head no. “Maybe it does to a hoo man-” she starts, butchering the pronunciation to annoy the colt.

“Oh cut it out with that hyu or hoo man crap!” he shouts, interrupting her and sounding it out like she does. “I only told you about that because I was mocking it!”

Title squeezes the colt between her forelegs and rolls to her right, stopping on her back and bringing him with her on her chest. Worried he could poke her, he quickly retracts his horn, then lets out a sigh, leaning back to rest his head on her neck and chin.

“I’m just teasing you, honey. Putting a flea in somepony’s ear means you’re getting them in the mood.” She gives him another squeeze with her forelegs and wraps him in a tight hug, using him like a snuggle pillow.

“What? What the hell do fleas in your ear have to do with that?”

“Honestly, I’m not sure. Maybe it has something to do with ear biting?” she half-asks.

“Wait, is that why Dawn nibbles on my ear?”

He feels more than sees his mom shake her head. “Probably not intentionally. You two are too young for most signs of affection. That and you annoy her and they’re right there asking to get bit when she’s on your withers.”

Sighing again, he nods in acceptance. “Regardless, I wonder if Wind is old enough to act as a flight instructor for the crystal idea. I’m not sure if she’s twelve or thirteen now, to be honest.”

“She probably turned thirteen in January. Or she’s going to be tall for a pegasus mare. She’s already two hooves taller than you and they don’t usually get much over nine and a half hooves tall. I’m pretty sure you would need an adult to act as an instructor anyhow.”

“Yeah, probably. I wonder if Glacial’s dam would be interested.”

“Probably not if she’s about to have twins. When are you meeting everypony?”

“Thunder and Flare said Snowstorm Burst and… Uhh…” Cure pauses, furrowing his brows in thought. He saw the light gray pegasus stallion with Glacial’s dam at the tree event, but he never got a chance to talk to him with the other events distracting him.

“I’m not sure what his name is but he said he just goes by Rain. I don’t remember seeing you talk to him at the party.”

“Yeah, I was a little distracted.”

“I bet. What’s the plan there, anyhow?”

“Can’t say that I have one, ma. I figure I’ll just wait and see what happens when we go visit. I mean, whoever has the trees can’t really do much with them other than use them. I wholly removed the cloning seed thing, so unless there’s another biomanipulator out there like me there’s only so much that can be done with ‘em. I would dearly love it if the fucks that stole that came here trying to get more seeds, though,” he growls out.

“No murdering ponies over something you can replace in two minutes, babe,” she softly scolds, poking him in the side with a hoof.

“Fine. I’ll leave ‘em alive. Stitched together like a pony centipede, maybe, but alive.”

The pink mare sighs and, instead of asking, tells him, “I don’t wanna know.”

“No, you really don’t. It’s gross and I would never actually do that either way. I would ask some very pointed questions before the authorities cart ‘em off, though. Anyhow,” he says, using his TK to roll himself over so they’re chin to chin, “Drift’s parents are having them over for lunch and invited me. Have you guys considered looking at cloud houses when you’ve been shopping, by the way?”

Title still for a moment. “I… huh. I have to say that the possibility never even occurred to me. I don’t see that as being feasible, though, honey. Vines and Amy are both pretty scared of heights and we wouldn’t have a way of getting up and down.”

“Yeah, true. I guess that’s more of a ‘maybe in ten years’ kind of idea. Or if we move somewhere where we don’t know anypony. I could give you all wings on the way so when we get there nopony realizes we all changed tribes, sorta.”

“Right, we’re all just freakishly tall, thick pegasi, Cure. I’m sure that won’t be weird to anypony.”

Scoffing, he waves away the issue. “What are they gonna do, demand our birth certificates? They’ll probably just assume we’re genetic freaks like the huge earth ponies are, just a pegasus version.”

Title rolls her eyes. “I don’t think those exist.” With a thoughtful frown she adds, “Ya know, I wonder why that is. Do you think all the really tall earth ponies are like… distant relatives to each other or something? Like, two really tall ponies somehow had, like you said, a genetic freak of a foal and he or she is like… the great-times-a-hundred grandparent of all of ‘em.”

“Oh yeah, absolutely,” he instantly agrees. “That’s almost certainly exactly what happened. I mean, that probably was thousands of years ago, so by now they’re barely any more related than you and I, biologically speaking, but I don’t doubt that’s the case at all. I’ll have to decide if I’m going to do the same thing myself, too.”

“What?” she asks. “Have foals that are different?”

“Sure. I mean, in a way, aren’t I depriving any offspring I have if I don’t pass on my Mark II or Mark Whatever cells? I figure there’s gotta be a few other species out there that have something I can duplicate. Dragons for their heat resistance comes to mind immediately. I don’t think any of the other races have magical abilities, so there’s a good chance I could copy most, if not all of them.”

The idea clearly leaves Title at a loss for words. She has a thoughtful frown on her face and is considering the idea. Still mulling it over, she rolls back to her right side, setting Cure on his left, still between her forelegs. He’s perfectly content to snuggle right up to her, hugging the mare’s neck against his chest and giving her a few grooming licks up her chin before nuzzling against her.

After several minutes she finally speaks up. “I don’t think you would be depriving your foals if they were just regular ponies, honey. I suppose it would depend on who you’re having the foal with, really. If it’s with one of your mates you’ll have the unique option to talk over what you want beforehoof. If it’s a studding agreement… well, I guess you can do the same, or just make it the same tribe as the dam.”

Pausing, she glances down and asks, “Were you still considering doing that? The studding thing when you’re older?”

“I dunno. I haven’t ruled it out com-” he stops as the front door opens. Cure leans up to look over her shoulder as she cranes her neck. Vines and the fillies come in first followed by Amethyst, then Lemon, and finally Deed carrying Savvy taking up the rear.

“The crystal! Hit the Cleaning crystal, girls!” Vines shouts as the fillies take off for the toybox.

“Sorry!” is chorused back as the girls rush back to the door, leaving a second set of muddy hoofprints back. Once cleaned the pair dart off to the toybox, each looking for a doll to play with.

Cure hadn’t intended to become a dollmaker, but his creations are very popular with foals, it seems. Most of them are ponies, but he has also made a few plush kitty and bunny toys for Heavy, Drift, and Glacial’s little sisters. He’d also made each of his friends a set of silk sheets that he has yet to deliver. He originally wished he’d thought of it before Hearts and Hooves, but the thought just didn’t occur to him until afterwards.

When he commented about it to his parents they also made a good point. Giving the girls (and Heavy) a set of silk sheets on Hearts and Hooves day may have been a little more suggestive of a present than Cure intended. He had to concede the point. Hoofing those over on a romance-centered holiday sends a message that is a little more forward than he means.

Dawn, Glacial, Drift, and Rising would have probably taken it that way. He wasn’t sure what to think about Sapphire. Also, Cure’s not sure what’s going on with Delta Coast. He noticed she has been acting strangely towards him ever since Hearth’s Warming and he’s not really sure what the story is there. The only thing he can figure is that she thinks he’s pursuing her romantically and isn’t interested, which is perfectly fine by him.

Ferric would have definitely taken it as a romantic gesture, given she had made him a present with that in mind. His relationship with the filly has changed since then, with her being much less reluctant to be in contact with him. He’d gone to her house the next day to thank her in pony and ended up spending a couple hours snuggled with her while she showed him her favorite designs from the books he’d bought her.

He had a really fun time, and was delighted to see the normally shy filly actually taking over and leading a conversation. She was far more animated and vocal as long as the discussion was about something related to smithing. The big win, in Cure’s book, was that she eagerly agreed to let Cure come to the smithy sometime soon once she clears it with her master.

He plans on taking advantage of the situation to suggest that, perhaps, she has a mark similar to his own and that she may be able to actively use magic as well. The fact that she’s ten and has her mark means that right now is the most important time for her to be developing her magical abilities, so getting her started as soon as possible is key for her to develop a bigger magic pool that will help her the rest of her life.

Cure watches with a smile as his dam extends her horn and uses a heating charm to evaporate the water leftover from the Cleaning crystal. Though it took her the longest of the parents to start using her horn she reluctantly conceded that they are really useful, and has become less and less hesitant to bust it out to help out with chores around the house.

“Gonna hafta move outta the way, champ. Yer sister seems ta be a bit hungry, so…” waving a hoof, Deed shoos Cure out of the way so he can set Savvy down by her dam’s tummy. Cure gives a nod, plants a kiss on his mom’s cheek, and rolls out of the way for his sister to get to Title’s teats.

As the little filly latches on Title looks to the four adults and asks, “So, how was the park?”

“Wet,” Amethyst grunts out, making her way to the stairs. “We woulda stayed longer but the damn weather teams decided ta make it rain while we were out there,” she explains, heading upstairs for the bathroom with Lemon and Vines hot on her tail.

“Eh, it wasn’t that bad, babe,” Deed answers, leaning down to give his wife a kiss. “Your wives just ain’t used’ta keepin ‘emselves dry like yer stud can. Me ‘n the pretty lil lady stayed dry the whole time.” Deed sits on his haunches by Title and carefully lays down, spooning her and resting his head on her left shoulder.

“I’m kinda surprised they have it raining during the day,” Cure observes. “Especially on a Sunday. I thought they tried to avoid that so it doesn’t fudge up the market stuff.”

“They do, son. Sometimes those weather ponies don’t get their days straight, it seems. The calendar says it ain’t supposed’ta rain again till Tuesday. Bunch’a featherbrains,” he grumbles. “You gonna be alright flyin in this?” he asks.

“Oh yeah, totally,” Cure assures him. “I have way more pegasus cells than an actual pegasus does, pa. In fact, I’m fully converted to hybrid cells as of a few days ago.”

“What?!” Title shouts. “Why didn’t you say so?”

“Uhh… why does it matter? I’m still working to convert the Mark I cells to Mark II, but yeah. I finished everything else on Wednesday. Well, except my brain. I ain’t messin with that,” he finishes.

“Feel any different, champ?”

Unsure what exactly his parents are hinting at, Cure cautiously answers. “No… why are you both acting weird?”

“We weren’t sure if something would happen, Cure. That’s all. I mean, we’re relieved…” she pauses as she glances to Deed, then back. “At least, I am. But yeah, I half expected something crazy to go wrong at some point.”

“Really?” he asks, getting nods from both parents. “Why?” When both give him dumb shrugs he just rolls his eyes at the pair and lets out a sigh. “I keep telling you that there’s more to it. At least, I think there is. I would have to … I don’t know. Do something monumental, I suspect.”

“Like deliverin a couple hundred completely healthy foals?” Deed asks.

Title follows along, “Or inventing a revolutionary medical treatment that you’re giving away?”

“Regrowing wings and horns?” Deed asks, apparently taking turns with his wife.

“Creating your antiviral trees?”

“Alright, enough,” he says, cutting off any more. “None of those, given my talent’s capabilities, are all that remarkable.” At the pair of incredulous looks he concedes, “Maybe the tree ones are a little more impressive, granted, but the others are all pretty straight-forward applications of my talent.”

“Well… good enough, champ. Just outta curiosity, what are we all up to at this point on that cell thing?”

“I’ve caught them up to you. Well, mom at least. You’re both at a little under seventy percent. Lemon and Amy are a smidge behind at sixty-five.”

“Really?” Title asks. “So we can walk on clouds and stuff?”

“Yeah, you’ve been able to, probably, since about the beginning of the month. Next time I have a moment I’ll tear off a piece and bring it in the house to show you.”

“Neat! I bet they’re comfy.”

“They are,” Cure assures her. “I’m wondering if I can wrap one in a silk container and use it as a mattress. I guess that would be one way to determine if it’s the aura or their magic that makes clouds solid over time.”

“Aura would make more sense,” Title notes. “After all, you only have that part and can solidify them for yourself. I bet they become solid for everything once you’ve pushed enough aura through them.”

“Dunno, ma. I guess we’ll see.”

“Sounds neat, champ. I wouldn’t mind a cloud bed just fer the novelty.” Pausing for a moment, Deed glances out the window. “Not that I’m tryin to get rid of ya, but yer havin lunch with ‘em, right?” Cure nods yes in response. “When are ya leavin?”

“In a few minutes. I figure I’ll wait for dam to come down, give her a little love before I head out. I know she’s not a big fan of the whole flyin bit.”

“Got yer Sending crystal?”

“Yep. And a Slow Fall, just in case.” After a moment he adds, “And Stun, a few shields, some teleports…”

Title just rolls her eyes and lets out a sigh.

“Good,” Deed says, giving him a nod. “So, what were ya workin on? Lookin over the Guard book?” he asks, glancing at the still open book laying in front of Cure.

“Yeah, we’d talked a bit about the flying spell in particular. Specifically, the possibility of putting it in crystals and selling ‘em. Something I suggested was requiring users to pass an air safety class and havin the girls or maybe Glacial’s dam run it. I figure they can work with Dawn and make some bits off of it. Maybe I’ll throw it out there at lunch.”

Nodding while mulling it over, Deed shrugs saying, “Doesn’t sound like a bad idea ta me, sport. I’m not sure there would be a lotta demand, but who knows. Ya gonna look fer ways ta make all’a yer friends rich too?”

Cure tilts his head back and forth a little in thought. “I mean… that would be great, but unless they mark up the crystals a lot I don’t see them getting rich off of it. I don’t know what the rate should be… at its lowest setting it lasts an hour. Normally it lasts three days, but like 90% of the spell’s power is the ‘battery’ so it could fit in a mid, barely.

“The seven hundred bit starting point makes it kinda cost prohibitive for most to use like I suggested, but if I was commuting and couldn’t just sprout wings I would totally fly to work every day over taking the train.”

“I know you would, honey. Have you thought about just flying to Baltimare instead of having them come get you each weekend? I mean… It’s been a couple months since the princess visited and we’ve seen absolutely no sign anypony is coming. Stars, they sent those trees to the capital what… six weeks ago?”

“Seven, and yes. I would much prefer flying there myself. I’m really struggling not to just go full alicorn mode all the time, honestly. I’m only holding back because I wanna clear it with the boss lady first. I’ve come this close,” he says, holding his hooves barely apart, “to saying something to Dr. Care or Ms. Gale like a dozen times.”

Deed shots him a disbelieving look. “Restraint? From tha colt that was ready ta go out in a big ‘ol alicorn disguise just a month ago?”

“Yeah, a disguise. Totally different tribe, size, color, sex, you name it. Nopony would see THAT and think ‘Cure Wave’ now would they?”

“True. I think yer right, son. Let her highness know first. It’s only another month anyhow.”

“That’s probably the safest option,” Title agrees. “You all done, sweetie?” she softly coos to Savvy. The foal finished feeding and is smiling back at her dam, laying against her tummy. She stands up on her hind legs and looks around until she spots Lotus and Cherry playing with her dolls.

Babbling giddily, she climbs right up and over her dam, across her sire, and makes her way over to them. Fortunately the foals are shaping up to be good big sisters. They’ve always had to share with each other, so entertaining their soon-to-be official little sister is as much fun for them as it is for her.

Happy to see the girls didn’t get stingey, Cure lets out a relieved breath. “Whew. Good thing the girls never developed only child syndrome.”

“Got that right, sport,” Deed agrees, then more loudly adds, “The girls are gonna be wonderful big sisters, I can tell already.” The slight manipulation works great as the two’s cheeks color a little and their ears perk up, even though they pretend they didn’t hear his praise. Deed turns back and nods to the book asking, “What else ya got in there, sport?”

“A few things. There’s kind of a primer for unicorn fighting in general and a vague blurb about non-runic casting. I hadn’t considered it before, but that’s how counterspelling apparently works. If you can recognize the spell somepony is casting and are fast enough to, you can really screw their magic up bad at close range or, for lack of a better description, negate the effect after launch. I’m thinking special talents aren’t counterable like that; they seem to break all the rules.

“There’s also a … Well, not even an introduction, but some notes about wards and alarm spells beyond the actual Alarm runic spell. Just kind of a ‘hey these things exist but leave it to the experts’ kinda thing.”

“That sucks,” Title blurts out. “Those sound useful.”

“Darn right they do. I wish I’d known about this crap before whoever made off with my trees. If I knew how to I coulda put a ward on ‘em to raise an alarm if anypony but us touched them,” he angrily huffs.

“There’s a few really useful things that I didn’t already have, but they’re kinda situational. Like Detect Magic. I could see using it a lot to detect traps or hidden stuff… even charged crystals.

“Force Wall seems pretty awesome. I didn’t realize that was the spell they use to protect infantry from projectiles and dropped crap. I kinda figured it was an actual shield spell or just that projected panel thing unicorns do, but apparently somepony developed the spell as a more magic-efficient alternative. There’s also some scrying spells for looking down on a nearby area. Not super helpful but I guess, again, in the right situation it could be.”

“I would think sending a pegasus up would be better since their eyes are so good,” Title comments.

“Yeah, but it’s a unicorn spell. It was probably created specifically because a pegasus wasn’t available. I bet that’s why the wing one exists too.”

“True.”

“The last bit is about prisoner apprehension stuff specific to unicorns. Stun, Hold, Cutting Beam, a couple pretty nasty spells for when lethal force is authorized-”

“They included that?!” Title shouts. “I can’t believe Haze let you have… well, actually,” she pauses, looking thoughtful, “I guess that’s not really a big deal with you, is it?”

“In a way,” Cure starts to explain.

“It means Haze already knows the colt could be that dangerous anyhow,” Deed points out.

Cure nods in agreement, “Right. He must have an idea about how dangerous I already am even without those spells. I mean, my talent alone is way worse than literally anything I could ever cast, probably. It’s kind of a moot point either way. I knew most of those spells from Arcane Blast’s book. I just never used them at the range because of power requirements and I think that may have freaked Solar out.”

“I kinda forgot about that,” she admits.

“My next big thing on my shopping list for magic is something to protect me from mental manipulation. I think I addressed that with my hardened backup system, but I won’t know until I’m the victim of it, unfortunately. That’s not something I would even let the princess try on me, so I would need both the offensive and the defensive versions to make sure we’re safe from that.”

“Is that for-” Deed pauses as the mares make their way down the stairs before continuing, “the changelings or something? I think ya mentioned the big one usin mind control.”

Vines walks around Deed and lays on his withers. Lemon and Amethyst pull a mat over to Cure’s left side and lay down on it, Amethyst directly beside him and Lemon to her left.

“Yeah, it is. Mind control’s like… I dunno, probably the single scariest thing I can think of on the planet, too. The loss of free will is such a concern that somepony using mind magic on me is one of the few things I would go instantly lethal against. My talent is just far too dangerous to fall into a bad actor’s hooves.”

“Yeesh, sounds like we walked in on a happy topic,” Lemon comments, laying her head on her wife’s withers. “I can’t say I disagree, though. If somepony’s using that kind of magic they would probably be banished or executed if caught,” she points out, getting agreeing nods from the other parents.

“Were you heading out soon, sweetie? The rain’s not going to be a problem is it?”

Deed shakes his head no. “Already asked that, babe. He says he’s got it covered.”

“Yep, was just waitin for you all to get back so I could say goodbye. I’ll probably be up there at least a few hours. I figured I could hang out with the girls a bit after taking care of the folks.”

Cure hops up and lays across his mom, nuzzling against his dam’s cheek, then giving some love to each of the other parents. He steps away from the group and, using the extra mass stored in the bit pouches, quickly grows his wings out and changes his colors, hiding his mark at the same time.

Making sure to be noisy enough she hears him coming, he walks over to Savvy and lays on his barrel, smooshing the girl down and wrapping her in a wing hug, kissing all over her face and getting giggles from the sweet foal before finally releasing her to waddle away.

Spreading his wings and forelegs wide he calls to the others. “Come gimme some kisses, girls, big bro has to go make a house call.” When they run over he wraps them both up for a moment, squishing them to his chest.

“Now you be good,” he lowers his voice and holds them tight, “or when I get home, I’mmaaa gonnaaa hafftaaa eaaatss yaaaaaaaaaa!” he shouts, giving them nibbles and tickling them until they scream and fidget enough that he lets them get away.

“Alright everypony, see ya in a bit,” he calls, waving with a wing as they all yell back to him. He’d completely stopped carrying saddlebags except for his school stuff, so he didn’t need to grab anything on the way out.

With the compressed bit pouches and subdermal pockets there’s little he could normally need that he can’t store internally. His fountain pen, a few blank crystals of each tier, thousands of bits, a few folded sheets of paper, and about sixteen liters of extra biomass filled the bags, each one capable of holding ten.

Inspired by a certain pink party pony, Cure has moved the bags so it looks like he’s pulling items right out of his mane. It draws some curious looks, but so far everypony has chalked it up to sleight of hoof trickery.

He takes a quick look out the door ensuring nopony is watching, closes his nictitating membranes, and starts pushing out with his aura to keep somewhat dry. Pulling the door shut behind himself, he takes off at a canter before spreading his wings, leaping, and taking to the sky, looking around to ensure no pegasi are flying nearby that he needs to watch for.

Cure gains some altitude and, instead of heading straight for the cloud district, veers towards downtown. Other than the guards on patrol there’s not many ponies out thanks to the rain. It’s not even that bad, but in a society that’s so accustomed to having near perfect weather all of the time, the few times when it is raining drives most ponies inside.

Cure does a lazy loop around the city, just taking in the sights and enjoying the feeling of wind and water rushing over him. With the strength of his TK field he’s able to go as fast as he wants, but he takes his time to enjoy the freedom. He doesn’t get to spread his wings too often, so when the opportunity presents itself he doesn’t let it pass him by.

After a few minutes of screwing around he heads towards the bakery he and his friends frequent, landing outside and making his way in. The extra mass he has stored helps strengthen his aura to keep water off of him, but his hooves still get a little wet and dirty when he lands. A Warming cantrip and a Cleaning cast by his internal horn ensures that what little he does track in the bakery will at least be clean water, though.

After buying a pecan and a cherry pie he heads back out and launches himself in the air, climbing up to level off with the cloud district as he does a wide loop, keeping the pies against his belly, surrounded by a quickly cast shield and the TK field he’s pushing out. It takes several minutes until he’s high enough, and he’s not surprised to see that most of the pegasi have decided to stay indoors as well.

Waterlogged wings are a lot more difficult to fly with, as he understands it, but his constant oil extrusion, TK field, and casted shields make flying in the rain a non-issue, at least at the lower speeds he’s tested it at so far. He finds a place near Drift’s house where he can duck out of sight and, after casting invisibility on himself, reabsorbs the wings and changes his colors back before making his way to the door.

<< Made it no problem, ma. I’ll let ya know when I’m heading home. >>

<< Alright, honey. Have fun. >>

“Knock Knock!” he shouts, giving the door a firm rap. It’s only a second later that the door is flung open with Drift and Glacial smiling at him on the other side. “Hello, my lovely ladies!” he greets, ducking his head in a shallow bow.

“You’re wet,” Drift notes, keeping her distance from him.

“That’s some fine observation skills ya got there, Drift. It is raining out, I’m sure you noticed,” he says, motioning over his withers. “I was able to stay mostly dry, but some mist still got on my coat.”

She lets out a deep sigh and rolls her eyes. “Dry off before you get everything else wet, too,” she flatly commands, moving out of the way.

Glacial shakes her head in exasperation and takes a step back, motioning Cure to come in and holding out a towel for him. He passes her the pie boxes as he takes it with a quick thanks. She gives the boxes a sniff and excited looks to the colt. “Cherry and pecan?” she asks.

“You bet,” he says, scrubbing himself dry. He looks around and quickly pops his horn out, casting the Warming cantrip on himself and the towel. It speeds up the process quite a bit and within a few seconds he’s almost completely dry. “I swung by the bakery on the way here. I don’t like to show up anywhere empty hooved, ya know?”

Glacial gives him a beautiful smile and steps in for a nuzzle, Drift doing the same after a moment while thanking him.

Drift takes the towel from him and, without a word, heads towards the back hallway, presumably to some kind of laundry room. Glacial watches her go before explaining, “She’s been acting weird today. I don’t know what’s up with her.” With another sigh she shrugs her wings and adds, “C’mon. Food’s probably about ready. Let’s take those to Mrs. Dance then I’ll introduce you to my sire since you didn’t get to say hi at the party.”

“Sounds good. You can toss those on my withers if ya want,” he says, walking next to her. She passes the pies back and the two make their way to the kitchen together, finding Thunder Dance sitting in front of the stove, stirring some veggies in a pan.

The white mare turns to greet the pair and gushes excitedly when she notices the pies. “You didn’t have to bring us dessert, Cure. Thank you, though!”

“Sure thing, ma’am. Dam raised me never to show up for a meal empty hooved.”

Smiling, she takes the boxes with a thanks and sets them on the counter. “Drift said you like fish. I hope she wasn’t making that up, was she?”

“Nope, I eat basically anything you can imagine, Mrs. Dance.”

“Great!” she beams. “Oh! I almost forgot!” She quickly sets her spoon back down, turns, and wraps him in a tight hug, wings included.

With a contented sigh he leans into it, luxuriating in the warmth. “Can’t get enough of them wing hugs,” he mumbles out, nuzzling into her chest.

“Hey!” a familiar stallion’s voice calls. “You’re not tryin to steal my wife, too, are ya?” Tailwind asks, walking in the kitchen from the living room. Snowstorm and her husband are right behind him, looking through the doorway.

“No sir. I have a legitimate medical condition,” Cure replies. “When a beautiful lady wants to give me a hug I just lock up. Here, watch,” he says, turning to Glacial and shooting her big doe eyes. Giggling, she wraps him in a hug, wings and all. “Ahh!” he faux yells, leaning into her, “I’m trapped! Somepony save meee! But take your time, really, I insist.”

“Tragic,” Thunder sympathizes. “Don’t you think, Snowy?”

“Oh, yes, definitely,” she nods in agreement. “It’s not terminal, is it Cure?”

“Only under specific conditions,” he assures them. “Quadriplegia per bella māre is, however, a chronic condition,” Cure solemnly explains. The adults pause in thought for a moment then snort out a laugh, shaking their heads at the dumb joke.

Glacial separates from him, ending the hug and rolling her eyes at the whined “so cold” to trot over by her sire, turning to face Cure and nuzzling into the stallion’s shoulder. “Daddy, this is Cure Wave. Cure, this is my sire.”

Rain, whatever his actual name is, is the light gray pegasus Cure saw Snowstorm with at the event. He has a darker, nearly black mane and tail and is barely taller than his wife. She is on the taller side for pegasus mares, though, coming in at just about ten hooves as best Cure can tell.

The stallion takes a step into the kitchen and reaches out for a hoof bump, greeting the colt. “Just call me Rain. It’s nice to finally meet you properly. We didn’t get an opportunity after the… Well, you know,” he finishes wincing.

“A pleasure,” Cure returns. “Yeah, that didn’t end how I expected. I think I’ve seen you working a few times, but ya know… most ponies don’t look up very often.”

“Eh, true,” Rain nods just as Thunder says the food is ready. Everypony makes their way to the dining room, just a room over. One thing Cure notices is that the table is much lower than he’s used to. The small fillies have boosters, but he and the girls are just tall enough they can sit on a cushion and reach fine.

Cure ends up being seated on Glacial’s right. On his right on the next side of the table are Glacial’s parents sandwiching her little sister; the cerulean filly that was sleeping on her dam when he delivered presents. Snowstorm introduces her as Frigid Glaze and the filly shyly waves before tucking herself against her dam’s side, barely peeking around her foreleg at the colt.

Drift’s parents sit opposite of him doing the same with their youngest; Swirling Leaf sits there placidly between the two looking for all the world like she just wants to go back to sleep. The filly has a coat just like Cure’s dam, with a light brown mane.

Wind Shear sits to Flare’s right on the left side of the table from Cure with Drift seated beside her, sort of between Glacial and her sister.

Once everypony is situated the food starts getting passed around and plates are quickly loaded up. Cure is barely a couple bites in when Rain decides to speak up.

“So Cure, Snowy’s parents are your biggest fans now. They’ve been doing a lot of vacationing since you fixed them up a couple months ago.”

“Oh yeah? The first mare I deaged is doing the same thing. Jeez I wonder if I accidentally gave the travel industry a little boost.”

“That’s exactly what I would do if I could retire,” Flare says. “I was hoping we’d get stationed over near Las Pegasus at some point, but it doesn’t look likely. I wouldn’t mind going there but,” he sighs, “that’s a two day train ride.”

“I would think that would be a lot more hectic of a location,” Cure comments.

Thunder explains, “It is, but having all of the entertainment options nearby would be worth it. It’s the second most requested assignment.”

“Canterlot being the first?” he asks.

“Mmhmm,” she hums around a bite of fish. “Lots of prestige and higher pay, even if the price of living is a bit more.”

“I wouldn’t mind checking out Las Pegasus in a few years,” Wind says. “Lightwing says he has an aunt that lives there. She’s told his family if they’re ever in town they can crash at her place.”

Drift excitedly adds, “They have some of the best racers in the world over there. I’ve heard they have floating obstacle courses and entire parks for aerial acrobatics.”

“Do they have teams like the Wonderbolts?” Cure asks. “I’ve only ever heard of them.”

“Eh, kind of,” Flare answers. “They have smaller teams that do shows and stuff. I think a few travel up and down the coast, but the Wonderbolts are the elite flyers. Some ponies don’t want to join them just because they’re considered a part of the military, though.”

“I’ve kicked around the idea of enlisting in the reserves,” Cure mentions. “What about you three?” he asks the girls. “You considered a military career?”

“Probably,” Wind answers with a shrug. “At least until I find something I want to do for a long term career.”

“Huh uh,” Glacial grunts out, swallowing a bite. “I’d rather do something with the weather,” she says, getting a proud smile from her sire.

Drift answers last. “I think I’d rather travel, maybe find a job as a courier or something. I dunno… I just don’t want to have to stay in one place all the time.”

“They have logistics officers that do that, honey,” Thunder explains. “You’ll have to really work on your endurance for that.” She pauses in thought for a moment and looks at Cure. “Do you know of any exercises she can do to help her flight muscles outside of the gym?”

“Yeah, absolutely.” He turns to Drift and says, “I have a couple ideas for things that could help a lot. Next time we hang out we’ll work on a few, okay?”

“Like what?” Flare cautiously asks.

“Exercises to help with lung capacity, cardio stuff, weighted carries, and more focus on wing strength instead of endurance on her hooves.”

“Oh. Okay, that sounds good,” he agrees, blowing out a relieved breath.

Snowstorm raises a single brow, looking at the stallion. “What were you expecting, exactly?”

“I have no idea,” he says, shrugging his wings. “Maybe like… another set of wings or something crazy.”

“What?!” Rain shouts, both brows hiked to his mane line.

“Where would they even go?” Cure wonders aloud.

The table goes silent as everypony ponders where an extra set of wings could fit on a pony.

“I’ve got nothing,” Thunder finally admits.

“Yeah, I don’t want a second set of wings coming out my flanks,” Drift insists.

“I have an idea,” Cure says. “I’m just not sure how I would pull it off. It’s not a second set of wings, exactly, but what about some kind of glide suit?”

“Glide suit? Like, something you wear?” she asks.

“I dunno,” he says, staring in thought. “Maybe just something added to your current suit that has like… extendable wings. You could propel yourself with your actual wings, then use the suit’s to glide. Does the military use anything like a glider?”

“Son, I’ve never even heard of an idea like that,” Flare remarks. “What would you even make it out of?”

“Aluminum, probably. I think titanium would be too heavy.” He pauses and looks up in thought, scrunching his snout. “Maybe alloyed with aluminum? Then again, if you can spread your aura through it you’re all set. The grabbing thing earth ponies do doesn’t imbue in things like the pegasus aura does. That may be overkill though…” he mumbles, drifting off in thought.

Drift and Glacial share a look, the former rolling her eyes and letting out a huff while the platinum filly giggles at the distracted colt. She takes advantage of the situation and leans over, giving him a small, quick lick and a gentle nip just behind his jaw on his neck. He jumps from the touch and blushes purple when the adults start snickering at the display, shooting her a weak pout for the abuse.

“Aluminum?” Rain asks once the table refocuses. “I’ve heard of it, but I don’t think it’s used except in some jewelry.”

Cure can’t hide his disappointment at that. “Ahh fudge… it’s not considered a precious metal, is it?”

“Not like gold or silver, no. I think it is expensive though. Most pure metals are.”

“Huh. Well that’s a relief. Maybe I could get some to try it. I have a Transmute crystal and aluminum is close to silicon, which I can produce, so that’s easy enough. Titanium is close to calcium…” he mumbles, slowly nodding to himself before declaring, “Yeah, that could work. The wing could be made of thin chitin like a butterfly. I bet you could ride it like a friggin surfboard so it wouldn’t get in the way of your wings.”

“What’s titanium?” Thunder asks.

“I’ve read about it,” Flare answers. “They tested some armors for pegasi because it’s lighter than steel and almost as hard. I think they scrapped the idea because it wasn’t worth using. It was too difficult to work with and the weight difference wasn’t big enough when we’re flying anyhow.”

Rain looks between the parents and rolls his eyes, smirking at the colt’s fanciful ideas. “Huh. Well, it sounds like a neat idea, son. Just don’t hurt yourself jumping off a cliff to test it.”

Ignoring the slightly patronizing tone, Cure resumes eating, telling Glacial about work while the parents chat amongst themselves. With the meal winding down Cure can’t help notice Drift has been unusually quiet, occasionally looking at her parents then staring at her plate before taking another bite.

Noticing Cure’s distraction, Thunder finally speaks up, softly explaining to him, “Don’t worry, Cure. She was like this when we were talking about having our little Swirl too.”

“Oh. I didn’t think everypony knew that’s why I came.” At Cure’s response everypony freezes, looking in his direction. “Ahh, fudge. They didn’t, did they?”

“What?” Drift asks, thoroughly confused. “What’s that mean?” All heads turn to Cure while Thunder and Flare cringe and look between him and Glacial’s parents.

“Umm… pie,” he says, nodding enthusiastically. “It’s full of sugar and protein. That’s why I bought ‘em. Especially the pecan one. Gives ya lots of energy,” he insists, thrusting a hoof energetically in the air.

Wind starts to crack up before adding her two bits in. “Yep, lotsa pecan will help ya get pregnant!” she barely gets in between sniggers.

“Oysters too,” Cure quickly says. When the parents raise a questioning brow he coughs and adds, “So I hear, that is.”

Snowstorm and Rain look between the colt and Drift’s parents who are doing their best to maintain a neutral look. Sadly, ponies absolutely suck at deception, so they might as well have literal anime-styled sweat drops running down the side of their heads.

“I don’t get it,” Glacial softly says, setting down her silverware. “I thought you were just here to meet my sire and hang out.”

“Well, that too-” he starts.

“He’s gonna get our dams pregnant!” Wind shouts, laughing aloud.

“Wind Shear!” Thunder calls in a scolding tone over the shouted “WHAT?!” yelps from most of the table.

“Jeez, phrasing, Wind! For Celestia’s sake!” Cure grumbles.

“You are?!” Drift asks, horrified while glancing between her dam and the colt.

“Of course not!” Flare and Dance shout over Cure’s mumbled, “Eh, sorta.”

“Gross!” Drift screams, turning and punching her sister while yelling “What’s so funny?!” at her.

“Alright, enough fun, Wind. I’m here to help your dam have twins.” Not giving anypony time to interrupt, he faces Glacial’s parents and explains, “My talent is to alter biology, like I said in my speech. I can cause a second egg to form.” Looking directly at Rain he adds, “I can also make a sire only have sons. Or daughters, I suppose. Whichever,” he finishes with a shrug.

Wind stops half way through his explanation and looks at him curiously. “Really? I figured you could do something, but damn. That’s nuts.”

“Yes, it is,” Cure immediately agrees. “This right here is what made my parents and I paranoid that some noble could snatch me up. I would ask that, above almost anything else I can do, this be kept quiet.” Fortunately nopony objects, though Thunder does point out that the whole ‘abducting earth ponies’ thing is, as far as she knows, an urban myth.

“We were talking about having another.” Rain says off, looking at his wife. “If you can actually do that…

“I can,” he reassures the stallion. “I’ve been healing and doing cosmetic procedures for about six months now,” Cure explains. “As you can imagine, almost all of my customers are mares. Of the thirty or so stallions I’ve used my talent on I’ve found several with an issue that would make it impossible for them to sire a son. I was able to correct that issue once I got a chance to talk to them in private.”

“You’ve found more?” Flare asks.

“Yep. It seems to be about one out of five or six, roughly. I need a bigger sample size to be sure. Oddly, it seems to be that most of the sires that have a bunch of foals are the ones most likely to have it. I can only assume they keep trying to have a colt,” he finishes with a shrug. “It’s something I plan on bringing up when we go to the capital next month.”

“The Wonderbolts trip?” Rain asks. “I know our little Glacial is super excited to be going!”

“Focus, honey!” Snowstorm admonishes her husband. “How… How does it work, Cure?”

“He just puts a hoof on you,” Glacial explains.

“She’s basically right,” he says, nodding. “When I use my talent I can scan you like a unicorn doctor, just way more detailed.”

“I figured your talent took a long time to work,” Rain says. “I know you said it took months for the trees…”

“Yeah, that was a gigantic, complex change,” the colt explains. “Really, a dozen changes with stops in between so I could take notes, plan stuff out, test things, etcetera.”

“I showed you the eyelids,” Glacial reminds him, blinking her membranes. “He did that in like two minutes. Cure can basically change anything.”

“You should have seen when he did the bunny thing,” Drift comments. “He barely looked like a pony at all.”

“Oh my stars!” Glacial gushes, clapping her hooves together, “It was amazing! He was so soft, just like the toys he made!”

“Bunny thing?” Wind asks, suddenly interested.

“He turned into a big fluffy bunny rabbit!” Glacial squees, leaning over to nuzzle into his cheek.

“Bunny rabbit?” Frigid timidly asks in her tiny voice, speaking for the first time. “I wanna see the bunny!” she shouts, giving Cure a hopeful look. When Swirl chimes in in agreement everypony looks at him expectantly.

“I’m… not getting out of this, am I?” he asks with a sigh. At the big smiles and no headshakes, he nods in acknowledgement. “Well, at least it’s thematically appropriate, given the reason for my visit,” he remarks, getting a snort out of the parents. “Where can I change?”

“Just do it here,” Drift insists. “It’s kinda neat looking.”

“I can, I guess,” he says, climbing down off his seat.

He walks around the table behind Drift’s parents, standing in the doorway separating the dining room from the hallway leading back to the kitchen and living room. Frigid hops up on her sire, standing on his withers with her hind legs, forehooves on top of his head. Glacial sits up, forehooves on the table so she can watch him while Drift and Wind can lean back and see the show.

He starts humming and vocalizing an energetic tune, bobbing and dancing with the lead-in. When the speed picks up he does an exaggerated, full body wet-dog shake while growing out the extra thick layer of floof, stopping to look himself over wide-eyed as if surprised. The move gets giggles from the little girls and impressed utterances from the dams.

Shrugging at the situation, he repeats the shake but only with his neck and head, quickly rotating back and forth and growing his ears out until they’re nice and floppy, smacking himself in his cheeks a few times before he stops and perks them straight up, staring upwards in pretend shock.

“His ears!” Swirl shouts, bouncing in her seat and clapping.

Next he turns sideways and makes a show out of looking at his tail analytically. He widens his eyes and perks his ears like he has come up with a great idea, then shoots a wink at the group. Reaching back to grab his tail while pretending to have to fight it a little, he detaches the whole thing causing everypony to gasp in shock.

Sitting on his haunches, he wads it into a ball, smooshing it again and again, kneading it like dough while changing it into a poofy ball. Finished altering it, he holds it up to inspect, nods approvingly, then tosses it up in the air over his shoulders, sticking his butt way up to catch it on his dock, securing it in place with a little wag.

“This… This is crazy!” Snowstorm exclaims. Everypony else just nods along, watching in wonder. Both fillies are enraptured, staring excitedly as a colt-sized bun takes shape in front of them and barely holding back from diving on him.

Still sat on his haunches, he claps his forehooves, then rubs them together before clapping a few more times until the “clop” noise is replaced with silence. He holds his, now, paws up to show them his pink toe pads, then rubs each hind hoof with his forepaws while changing them one at a time. Next, he covers his face with his forelegs, quickly rearranging his muzzle before moving his arms away like he’s playing peek-a-boo.

“Oh my stars,” Wind mumbles. “That’s… awesome!”

“I’ve seen stage magicians pull bunnies out of their hats,” Rain comments, “I don’t think I’ve ever seen one turn into one.”

Done with the transformation, he stops humming the song and timidly hops his way around the table, back to Glacial. He puts his forepaws up on her cushion, and gives her cheek a nuzzle, getting a giggle out of her. He pulls away, quickly changing his colors to match her sparkly platinum at the same time, then gives the fillies a surprised look.

“BUNNY!” they shout, bouncing in their seats as he makes his way behind Glacial’s parents, nuzzling into her sister, Frigid. Once again he changes his colors to blue, matching hers when he pulls away, getting a giggle from the filly before he bounces around to Swirl and sits on his haunches, forepaws held up beggingly with his ears hanging limp, giving the girl a pleading look.

She turns around and grabs a piece of lettuce out of the salad bowl, whipping back to offer it to the bun-colt. He hesitantly leans forward to take it from her hoof, giving it a couple sniffs before chomping it and yoinking it back and shifting his coat to a bright green. He holds it between his paws while munching it down, exaggerating the chewing motion between bites like a real rabbit does.

“Can we keep him?” Swirl asks, looking hopefully to her dam. Cure plays along, sitting on his haunches with his forepaws held pleadingly while giving Thunder the big puppy dog eyes.

“I don’t think he’s housebroken, honey,” she sympathetically declines.

Cure lets out a huff, sticks his snout in the air, and haughtily turns away, making his way over to Wind Shear. He changes his coat to white as he smooshes his head up under her left foreleg, nuzzling his ears and forehead into her chest, then reaches up and nuzzles into her chin, framing her face with his ears.

“Oh my stars,” she mumbles, wrapping her forelegs around him and grinding her chest and belly into his back, nuzzling a cheek against his forehead. “How the hay are you so freaking soft?!”

“He cheats,” both Glacial and Drift say at once.

After a moment of snuggles with Wind, Cure separates from her and sits next to Drift, facing her left side. She resists the urge to bury her face in his floof, so he rears up, lightens himself, and wraps his forelegs around her in a hug, pulling her head against his chest, now mimicking her dark purple coat.

At first she lets out an annoyed huff, but after a few seconds he can feel her nuzzling in against him. He gives Wind a wink over his withers and wags his tail back and forth when she pokes at it a few times out of curiosity.

“Alright!” Drift growls, leaning away. “Enough, you nuisance. Go away.”

He leans down and gives her a peck on the top of her snout, getting laughs from the parents, before leaping away from the incoming wing slap. Done with his show he bunny hops his way back to his seat, changing his coat back to blue on the way. It brings a smile to his face when Glacial scoots closer so their sides are touching.

“Well…” Snowstorm starts, then trails off, completely at a loss for words.

Her husband isn’t, though. “That’s absolutely amazing, Cure. Aren’t you going to change back?”

“Eh, maybe after pie. The fillies probably want a shot at me first,” he says, chuckling when they both eagerly nod.

“Is your dam a bunny?” Frigid asks, glancing around at the giggles from everypony.

“No, sweetie. My parents are both earth ponies,” he explains. Looking thoughtful he adds, “Though my sire may be part bunny. He is about to have four wives after all.” The mention of Deed’s harem gets shocked looks from the parents.

The fillies have been aware of Amethyst and Lemon for a while, but the parents must have just assumed them to be friendly neighbors and not prospective wives. Continuing his explanation, Cure tells the little girl, “I can make myself look different with my special talent.”

“Woooowww! So cool!”

“Yup. It’s pretty useful, even just for playin around and stuff.”

“So… bunny rabbit,” Flare starts. “Have you done any other animals? I mean… you see ponies with pets and sometimes you think, ‘I wonder what the world looks like through their eyes.’”

“Not really, no. I can’t easily grow or shrink myself, so it would be kinda weird for a me-sized cat to walk around,” he points out, the adults nodding in agreement. “I do have a Shrink / Enlarge crystal, though, so I could do that if I wanted to sneak around for some reason.”

“I didn’t even think of that,” Drift mumbles. “You should totally do the bug thing for Nightmare Night this year! A big praying mantis would be awesome!”

Snickering, Cure nods. “I think you’d make a better praying mantis than me, Drift.” The adults all burst out laughing, confusing the dark filly.

“What? I don’t get it.”

“Don’t worry about it, sweetie,” her dam assures her.

“In all seriousness,” Cure asks, “how fast would the Guard show up if an adult earth pony sized bug came walking into town?”

“Immediately!” Flare insists. “That would cause an absolute panic.”

“You could actually do that?” Thunder asks.

“Probably?” he hesitantly answers. “I’ve never tried, but I can’t think of a reason why I couldn’t. It would probably take a few hours to grow the chitin and whatnot. I’m sure you noticed I kept my neck the same,” he points out, motioning to the neck that’s far longer than a real rabbit’s would be.

When she nods he explains, “I can’t just cut off circulation or whatever when changing, so big changes or even small ones to my spine or cranium are something I avoid. I could do it, but I can’t think of a reason to ever try to.”

“Well,” Flare slowly starts, seemingly shaken by the idea of pony sized bugs, “if you ever decide to try, let me know ahead of time. I’ll be sure to ask for the day off. Send me after a drunk, angry griffon? No problem! Tell me to go fight a scorpion that’s twice my size? No thank you!”

“Yeah, the thing is the bigger bugs like scorpions aren’t any worse than the ‘cute’ bugs. You would probably Nope the freak right out of here if you came face to face with a you-sized butterfly or grasshopper. I know I would.”

“Huh,” Thunder mutters in thought. “That does sound terrifying,” she agrees. Deciding to abandon ship on that topic, she looks around the table and asks, “So… who wants pie?”

Cure was right; the fillies were absolutely dying to get a piece of him once dessert was gone. The parents and siblings watched on fondly as they climbed all over him, nuzzling into his chest and belly and wrestling with his ears. Once they fell asleep on his belly he grew out a second layer of skin and fur under the surface they were sleeping on and, using his TK field, slid them off to the side, wrapping them in a filly burrito blanket.

“So weird,” Wind mumbles, watching with a little envy.

Nodding in agreement, Cure tells her, “It is, but it’s not really that different from how we make wool. I’m just skipping the middle pony. Well, if you all are interested,” he says, turning to the parents, “I think I can get you all set up, assuming you want to and, ya know…” he trails off, waving to the dams.

“Yep, I’m definitely ready,” Thunder confirms. “I could tell a couple days ago,” she finishes, getting a nod from Flare.

“Back to the kitchen?” Cure asks.

“Sure, that’ll work,” the stallion confirms, leading the way back so they can have a modicum of privacy.

Once in the kitchen Cure sits on his haunches, looking first at Drift’s sire. “Alright, Mr. Flare. I made it so you are only having colts last time, but just in case whatever is causing this is a recurring thing I should probably make sure,” he says.

The stallion is quick to turn his back and sit down, letting out a self depreciating chuckle before he extends his wing to the colt. Once Cure takes hold he confirms that Tailwind is still only producing male sperm before letting go.

Thunder sits down and holds out a hoof, looking hopefully towards the colt.

“So just a few questions, first, Mrs. Dance. One, how many do you want? Two, fraternal or… I guess, half identical? Huh, you know, I hadn’t thought of that before… they’re not exactly identical, are they?”

“Huh?” she confusedly mutters.

“Well, identical twins are what you get when a fertilized egg, or whatever it is called at that point, splits into two. If I clone your egg like I did my dam’s before conception then they’re more like half identical twins.” He ponders on it for a moment, then shrugs saying, “I guess fraternal is still right in that case.”

“I hadn’t even thought of that,” Tailwind agrees. “How many is it safe for her to carry at once?”

“I wouldn’t recommend more than three,” Cure advises. “And if you go with three, I’d feel a lot better if you came by my work every few weeks at least so I can make sure everything is going well.”

“I think twins will be plenty, honey,” Thunder tells her husband. “We already have three girls and, before you said something, I hadn’t really considered having more at all.”

“Yeah, two is going to already be a hooffull, Cure. I don’t think we really care too much about the whole identical twin part. They won’t actually be identical anyhow, after all.”

“Right,” Cure agrees. “I’m not willing to mess with a fertilized egg. I may be able to cause it to split, but I’m just not confident enough to do it. It’s an unnecessary risk too. Also, two is probably safest given it’s possible one of these could split also, giving you triplets or quadruplets anyhow. Would you be okay stopping by the store in a couple weeks to check, Mrs. Dance?”

“Absolutely. I agree; twins, please, Cure.”

Nodding, he takes her hoof and, within only a moment, has duplicated her egg. “All set. You have two viable eggs ready, Mrs. Dance.” She wraps him in another warm wing hug, thanking him repeatedly.

Cure is completely unprepared when Tailwind does the same, smushing the buncolt against his chest. It’s not unusual at all for male ponies to embrace as well, but Cure certainly wouldn’t have expected this outcome if somepony had asked what his relationship would be like with Drift’s parents six months prior.

Once they’ve finished squeezing the life out of the colt they make their way to the living room, sending in Glacial’s parents next.

When Snowstorm walks in she can’t help but giggle at the colt’s ridiculous appearance. “This has to be one of the craziest things I’ve ever seen,” she comments.

Cure shrugs helplessly, agreeing with the beautiful white mare. “My life promises to be an interesting one,” he notes.

“Especially with how many fillies you have chasing after you,” Rain agrees. He keeps the tone light, but Cure can see some concern in the father’s eyes.

“I treat them like friends,” Cure explains. “If it develops into something more, that’s great. If not, I hope we can still be friends after. I’ll freely admit, I’m somewhat enamored with your daughter. In my defense, though,” he says, motioning to Snowstorm, “how could anypony not fall for such a beauty?”

Snowstorm lightly blushes at the compliment while Rain bursts out laughing, nodding in agreement. “Well, as long as you always keep that in mind, son, we’ll get along great. So… how’s this all work? Just hold a hoof for a moment and you do your thing?”

“That’s the gist of it for the dam. Unfortunately, the sire’s part is a little more invasive. I try to keep things entirely clinical when I’m on the clock, okay?” When the pair nod he continues, “I’m going to be sending magic into a very sensitive part of your body. I can numb the sensation, thank Harmony, but short of knocking you out or completely blocking all sensation up your spine you will still feel something.”

Rain cringes, shying away slightly while asking, “Does it hurt?”

Cure can’t stop a nervous chuckle from escaping him. “Umm, I almost wish it did instead. No, the magic seems to… well, tickle? I guess? It’s not an unpleasant sensation if you catch my drift.”

His wife barks out a laugh, covering her face with a wing. “He’s going to react isn’t he?”

“Oh my stars, no!” Rain defeatedly cries out, covering his face with his hooves.

“That’s exactly what’s happened thus far,” Cure agrees. “If it’s any consolation, sir, at this point I’ve used my talent on about three dozen stallions and well over five hundred mares. I worked three suburbs during the births this year, dude. If you don’t make it weirder than necessary then I won’t either.”

“That’s fair,” Rain agrees. “So what do we do?”

“First, you make a couple decisions,” Cure answers, explaining the options the couple has available.

“Are you sure triplets would be safe?” Snowstorm worriedly asks. “That… sounds a little scary.”

“I delivered a healthy set to an earth pony. I strongly recommend twins at most, especially if you’re unsure, though. I mean… you’ll only be producing colts,” he says, motioning to Rain. “You’re young enough to have another colt later if you’re not sure. Or more twins,” he adds with a shrug.

“Twins,” Snowstorm finally decides, Rain nodding along.

“I feel weird,” Rain admits, “It’s almost like we’re picking out our foals like you would fruit at the grocery.”

“Yup. It’s a bit different, dude. I dunno what to tell ya, but I would ask that you at least, ya know,” Cure says, moving his paw in a downward facing spiral motion.

“OH! Right, right!” the stallion enthusiastically nods, turning to face his wife and using his wing to block the colt’s sight.

Cure reaches back and activates his mark, finding that Rain does indeed suffer from the same condition. “Yep, you have it too. You wouldn’t have been able to have colts, ever, otherwise. Brace yourself, Mr. Rain. I have to do this in two parts, so you’re gonna feel it.”

The stallion lets out a defeated sigh. “Do it,” he says. Cure lets his magic at the stallion, noting that unlike Thunder, Snowstorm watches in fascination. When her pupils dilate it dawns on Cure that the mare is in season and, in all likelihood, will be pregnant within the next few hours. Just to be sure, he eliminates the female sperm that Rain has now. Even if she doesn’t conceive tonight, with him producing nothing but male it’s all but inevitable it’ll happen before the end of the season.

Once done with both rounds of treatment, Cure waves her over, giving her a second egg. When she wraps him in a hug he can definitely pick up the faint scent of her excitement. Once again he finds himself being thanked profusely before the ready-to-go couple make their way out of the kitchen.

Cure gives the pair a small head start, not eager to be directly behind the excited mare, and is shocked when Wind Shear makes her way in only a second later. She pauses, eyes widening when she picks up the scent too, then barks out a laugh. She regards the still-bunnified colt for a moment with a smirk and walks the rest of the way in.

“Wind? You’re not going through estrus already, are you? You’re too young, right?”

“No, but I was curious if you could do something for me,” she bashfully admits. With a brilliant blush she hesitantly makes her request. “I, uh… was wondering if you could do something to help me keep Lightwing.”

“Like… what? Are you two having sex already?”

“No!” she shouts. More shyly she explains, “I just don’t want him to… I dunno. I’m just worried he might want another fillyfriend if I don’t.” Huffing, she adds, “Having to put up with Streak is bad enough.”

“Ah. Umm… Okay, so I know I’m a lot younger than you, but I don’t think it’s a good idea if I’m making changes like that to ponies that also aren’t adults. Do you think your dam or sire would be okay with you having stuff like that done?”

“I think my dam would,” she hesitantly admits. “I think daddy would say no.”

“Okay. Look, I get it. I really do,” he explains. “Can I be completely candid with you?” he asks.

Shrugging, she ducks her head in a nod.

“As you may have noticed,” he starts in a light tone, “I am an earth pony.” He dramatically pauses to look himself over. “Well, normally.”

“Whaaat? No!”

“Right? Well, rumor has it that earth ponies are… umm… physically larger than other tribes.”

“You ain’t that big, colt,” she bluntly retorts.

“Yet. Being big isn’t going to be a problem for me either way,” he comments. Wind’s eyes almost bug right out of her head, but Cure holds his paw up to wait. “What I mean is, if I end up marrying a pegasus if anything I’ll probably have to do the opposite of what you’re thinking. So I get it; wanting to make changes there is definitely a good idea in some situations.

“If your dam says yes or, if not, when you’re an adult just come see me. We’ll have a serious, adult conversation and if there’s something you want done then I’ll do it for free, okay?”

“I don’t get why I have to get my dam to agree,” she complains.

“Parents get final say on minors’ medical treatment, Wind. I’m okay with small or cosmetic changes, but I have to draw a line somewhere. Making changes to a minor specifically so they can have better sex? That’s the kind of thing I could see a parent skinning me alive over.”

Wind lets out a sigh, nodding in acceptance. She obviously isn’t happy with the answer, but Cure can tell she at least can see his point. “Come here, Wind,” he says, sitting on his haunches with his forelegs spread.

Thus far in his life, Cure hasn’t found a single pony that turns down an offered hug. Drift is about the closest, but he’s pretty sure she’s just a tsundere under all of those layers of angry. Wind slowly walks over to the colt, wrapping her forelegs around his back and smushing him against her chest and belly.

“You’re a beautiful filly, Wind. If Lightwing bails on you he must be too dumb to be worth losing any sleep over,” he reassures her.

“Thanks, Cure.” She blows out a sigh and, after a moment, comments, “You are dangerously snuggly like this.”

“I know. I’m debating busting this out on the princess just to see her reaction.”

She freezes in place, processing what he said before it dawns on him that she wasn’t in the know before. It was only the other two pegasi that were aware. “That’s who those trees are going to. We’ll all be meeting her, that’s why I told everypony they should come.”

“Sweet Celestia, Cure!”

“Exactly, she does seem pretty sweet.”

She rolls her eyes at the lame joke, then after thinking for a moment she barks out a laugh, shaking against his chest. “HAH! Oh my stars! You have to do it! I can’t even imagine how awesome it would be to see her highness squeeing like a little filly!”

“I don’t know about squeeing, but I’m not sure there’s a pony on the planet that wouldn’t lose their mind at seeing this level of floofiness. C’mon, let’s go see what the girls have gotten up to.”

She finally releases him, though she still gives him a quick nuzzle when they separate. Walking shoulder to shoulder with the older girl, he walks into the living room to find Glacial and Drift sitting on a cloud, reading a book together. The two little fillies are still asleep, wrapped up and holding each other in a lethally adorable embrace.

“Where’d all the parents go?” Cure asks, looking around.

Glacial and Drift both shoot him a completely deadpan look, then slowly turn their heads up towards the top level of the house. Cure follows their gaze and, upon pointing his ears up there, hears exactly where the parents went.

“Sweet Harmony!” he exclaims. “They didn’t waste any time did they?!”

“Now you know why I wasn’t in a good mood,” Drift huffs.

“Ah, that does explain it,” he agrees, nodding in acknowledgement.

“Guess you were right about the pie,” Wind reminds him. “Good call, colt.”

“I know what I’m talking about when it comes to nuts, Wind.”

“I guess we’ll find out for sure soon enough,” the white filly snarks back.

Cure gives her an accepting nod, then looks between the shockingly unbothered girls. “So awkward question. I normally wouldn’t ask, but curiosity compels me to. Are your parents all like,” he taps his forepaws together meaningfully, “couples together?”

“They do stuff together,” Glacial confirms with a nod. “Don’t earth ponies do that too?”

“Umm… I don’t know, honestly. Probably? I guess? There’s no reason we can’t, I suppose.” He pauses, unsure how to continue. “Oh well, rock on, I guess,” he says with a shrug. The girls just look at him curiously over the unfamiliar saying. Attempting to dispel the awkward, unfortunately not-silence, he asks, “Is it still raining out?”

Glacial shakes her head no. “It stopped a little bit ago.”

“Sweet,” he says, changing his coat brown and reverting to his winged Riddle disguise. “How bout we all go for a flight?” The question gets eager nods from all three girls, and, after rousing the two fillies, the group heads out, happy to leave the couples to enjoy their baby making.

Chapter 76: Another Day, Another Bay-bay

Monday, June 8th, 909 AB (the next morning)

Waking up to the gentle rapping of a hoof on his bedroom door, Cure feels like he can barely muster the energy to call out. The previous day had been long and tiring, and the conversation with the princess was every bit, if not more taxing than helping dozens upon dozens of dams give birth.

Despite that, with the divulgence of the most important issues he feels a sense of relief that not only did the princess believe him, she had already taken a few actions based on the tidbits he had shared before.

He’s sure there will be plenty more things that spark memories in the future, but hopefully by then he’ll be powerful enough that, if he deems it necessary, he’ll be able to take direct action to address them. It’s a shame that Ed barely watched the show, but at least the several hundreds of stories he read online stuck with him fairly well.

Another soft knock on the door precludes it cracking open enough for the snout, horn, and head of the servant assigned to him to poke their way inside. “Lord Serpeeeeentus! It’s time to wakey wakey, young master!”

Cure takes a deep breath, finding comfort in the familiar scent of his dam before formulating a brilliant yet succinct response. “Blurg.”

Glissando Slide giggles into her hoof and pushes the door all of the way open, making her way to his bedside. “Come, come, now, your highness,” she coos as she half climbs on his bed. Her soft snout presses gently into his mane as she continues in a sing-song, “Her majesty will be raising her sun any moment. Let’s get you all cleaned up for breakfast!”

Laid on his left side and still tightly latched onto Snuggling Vines’ belly, Cure lets out a foalish whine and feebly slaps at the unwelcome intruder with his right wing. “Don’t wanna. Comfy.”

“Weeelllllllllll,” she begins, drawing out the word as she looks him over, “I suppose you are awfully young…”

“Uh huh,” he grunts, wiggling this chin against his temporary dam-substitute’s neck.

“... and growing colts do need their sleep.”

“Yeah! More sleeps!” he shouts, raising his wing in a cheer.

“Mmhmm. So I’ll just go tell her majesty you’ve decided to cancel all your appointments today,” she says as she climbs back off the bed. “All those poor pregnant mares will be super sad, but I’m sure they and their innocent, adorable colts and fillies will be okay,” she insists in an exaggerated pouty voice.

“Ugh. Fiiiine,” he whines, grumbling as he rolls to his rump, half laying on the plushie's barrel. He rubs the sleep out of his eyes with a fetlock as the maid skips back to his bedside. He turns and gives her a weak glare over his withers, asking, “You do realize you’re guilting a foal to get up and work for free, right?”

She gives him the most exaggerated eye roll she can muster. “Were you really wanting to go back to sleep?”

He pouts and turns away. “Maybe.”

“Suuure you were,” she mockingly agrees with a disbelieving nod. “Now come along,” she calls, prodding at his mane with her snout again. “Breakfast will be ready in an hour. Let’s go get you all cleaned up and ready for the day before it’s time to eat. We wouldn’t want to keep her majesty waiting, would we?”

Cure sighs while nodding. He turns and climbs off of the bed, following the pale cream unicorn servant into the bathroom. Another grumble escapes him as he quickly adjusts his eyes to the brighter bathroom lights, shooting a brief scowl at the offending fixture overhead.

Ignoring the surly colt’s grumbles, she sits on her haunches and gives his horn a quick inspection. Upon determining it is not in need of a filling she turns to get the shower ready. He waits patiently as she adjusts the knobs to get the temperature just right. Satisfied the colt won’t get burned she gives him a nod and he hops right in. A set of brushes float over and the mare gets to work.

Cure is pretty sure the servants know he’s not really a typical foal, beyond even his status as an alicorn. They were, after all, present just a month ago when he was very conspicuously running around in his normal colors with both wings and horn visible, knocking out guards and contributing to a lot of exploded windows. All four sets of Elite Royal Guards absolutely know his true identity as two of them directly witnessed his ascension and return.

Regardless, the staff’s duties include attending him just like they would Celestia or any other royal. He could be ready to go in thirty seconds with a quick application of Cleaning and the use of his talent, but there’s no particular rush and he’s not opposed to a little pampering. A bath sounds nice, but he’ll save that for bedtime; nothing puts him to sleep faster than a luxurious hot soak and that wouldn’t be conducive to the goal of getting him moving right now.

It’s a little odd to have a mare that isn’t his dam or mom bathe him, but he can’t deny that standing under the hot water and being brushed and cleaned by her feels absolutely fantastic. By typical human standards it would be extremely unusual, but given his age and quasi-royal status it’s just what’s expected.

She starts by meticulously and carefully cleaning his face, scrubbing away what little eye gunk he’d accumulated overnight, giving his horn a quick scrub, then gently wiping down his brow, muzzle, cheeks, chin, and ears before starting on his mane. He’d shown and told her yesterday about his nictitating membranes, so she doesn’t bat an eye at him not even blinking when she pulls the showerhead down and the water blasts right in his face.

“Wings,” she calls, prompting him to lift them, spreading his feathers wide. The soapy brushes gracefully slide along the undersides of his wings and sides of his barrel, removing very little due to the lack of flight time since yesterday morning. The mare’s motions are soothing enough Cure has to keep lifting his slowly drooping head, something she’s definitely caught given the subtle smirk she’s sporting.

“Turn,” she commands next, prompting him to face away and sit, once again spreading his wings upwards so she can more easily see what she’s doing while scrubbing the top of them and his back. He’s jolted back awake when she gives him a small magical poke in the hip, once again prompting him to turn to face the showerhead with her on his right side.

With his wings, sides, and upper back all washed she massages the soap into his lower back, croup, dock, and tail. Once his back half is nice and polished it’s time for his chest, barrel, pits, and, eventually, his undercarriage to be gently scrubbed, starting from his chest and not stopping until she’s at his tail again. It’s all just part of the process, but having his balls and sheath thoroughly attended to by somepony that’s not a lover will never not be a tiny bit weird.

Of course, proper hygiene dictates that the royal johnson, unsheathed, needs cleaning too and, young colt or not, Cure simply cannot abide presenting with a piece of equipment that doesn’t match his station. He flexes a muscle to push out of his sheath just like when he pees and does his best to ignore the magic-held washrag as it scrubs his flaccid member. After nine months of bathing with his dam and moms since his memories returned it just isn’t that big of a deal anymore.

He kind of wonders if this is really how royalty used to be treated on Earth centuries ago, or if it was just something that whoever wrote “Coming to America” thought would be funny. He never paid enough attention to the British Royals, so for the time being it will remain a mystery whether Queen Elizabeth has a designated bather or if she polishes her own posterior.

Thankfully, Sandy is a consummate professional about the whole affair and, as a result, the experience of having his wiener gently washed is about as erotic as a medical exam would be. He knows he could likely insist he do all this himself, but then the gossipers would probably focus on why since not having a servant bathe him would be the stranger of the two options.

There’s also the fact that he genuinely doesn’t care if she has a good, long look at it. The entirety of hundreds upon hundreds of mares, and far fewer stallions, griffons, minotaurs, zebras, hippogriffs, a dragon, and even Princess Celestia herself have all been laid bare before him by his talent. Acting weird over a single servant seeing his dick as part of fulfilling her duties would make him a pretty big hypocrite.

He has no doubt that a word or two about his anatomy will inevitably slip at some point. As much as seeing crotches is part and parcel of daily pony life, almost nopony has any idea what a male alicorn’s junk should look like, so it’s naturally a curiosity. Based on his appearance immediately after his ascension, it’s nothing particularly special beyond being slightly larger than what a healthy earth pony is packing. His body, overall shape-wise, barely changed after he blew up, even if there were a number of internal differences.

Still, there’s the expectation that an alicorn absolutely has to be more in every way. It brings up a number of interesting questions. If somepony can literally look however they want, what things are acceptable and what would not be? Is being every mare’s wet dream expected of him or is it an abuse of his talent? Is he taking advantage of a gift or is he simply doing what anypony else would naturally do?

He’s of the opinion that everything is fair game. After all, he’s not doing anything to himself that a well-paying customer couldn’t get from him as well, eventually.

He believes that bearing the mantle of Alicorn of Life further justifies his opinion. Just as the Alicorn of the Sun is responsible for bringing the day, he will be expected to bring life wherever he goes. The obvious solution would be to encourage artificial insemination but, culturally, past attempts to expand the practice have been largely unsuccessful, giving rise to an entire branch of Health Services matching mares with willing partners.

Mares that are highly adverse to having sex with a stallion have little issue with the option, but studies commissioned by the princess have indicated the foals are initially magically weaker than ones conceived naturally. As she explained when discussing the Colt Trees’ theoretical impact on society, whatever spark passes between a couple burns brighter the deeper the connection. Completely removing half of the equation works biologically, but even purely homosexual mares still overwhelmingly prefer enduring the brief attention of a male if it means even a slightly healthier foal as a result.

There’s also the unspoken truth that many mares just want to, but don’t get the opportunity to, get dick every so often. Everypony knows a mare can get pregnant using alternative means, but ponies can also live just fine without sugary sweets; that doesn’t mean many will take a rice cake when a banana split is on the menu.

Cure had at one point made a comment about creating sex toys to sell. It’s not something he’s prepared to deal with right now, but he is absolutely confident he could create an artificial pair of testicles and a weiner that could attach to a mare. He hasn’t drawn up the designs, and he’s not sure how well it would be received, but there’s no reason he can come up with that such a unit could not be used to impregnate another mare.

The major shortcoming with that approach would be that the “donor” would only have X chromosomes to give, so any foal conceived in such a manner could only be a filly. It would still be a massive leap forward for homosexual mares, allowing couples the option of having a foal that is, in every way, theirs and theirs alone.

Worth noting, prostitution is also completely legal even outside of estrus seasons. That’s no surprise given that the majority of dangers and associated problems in human society are either mostly mitigated or completely absent. That’s partially due to the fact that the larger, slightly stronger members of society are usually the ones selling their services.

Sexually transmitted diseases are few and far between, not to mention more easily treated thanks to magical medicines. The risk of accidental pregnancy is effectively zero for about forty-six weeks of the year, and most stallions stop working a little early to be “fully stocked” for the season. They also don’t want to accidentally give a freebie foal away, as the price of service jumps with the increased demand when heat hits.

A halt to the mare’s ministrations draws Cure’s attention back to the waking world. With his penis adequately cleansed, he leans back to let the water run over and down his face, neck, and barrel. Sandy grabs the second showerhead in her magic and rinses his underbarrel, then gets the last of the shampoo out of his tail.

Thoroughly cleansed, he waits for the water to turn off and steps out of the stall, dripping profusely from snout to tail. Not one to pass an opportunity, Cure pops his wings up high and gets ready to do his best impression of a wet dog.

“YOUR HIGHNESS! NOOO!” she shrieks as she rears back, shielding her face with her forelegs. The colt hesitates, sticking his bottom lip out in an exaggerated pout. “Don’t you give me that look!” she scolds, “I’ve already showered before work, I don’t need to spend any more time trying to get my mane right!”

“Fiiine,” he despondently sulks. “Was just tryin ta dry off faster,” he quietly insists, pawing at the wet tile floor.

“Somehow, I am not completely sure you were trying to be helpful,” she argues as she begins toweling him dry.

“’Mornin, boss,” he calls, hopping on the bench to the princess’s side. His buns barely settle on the seat and a tray laden with fruit, oats, milk, and coffee nearly materializes in front of him courtesy of the wait staff. He calls out a quick thanks before turning back to the mare. “Sleep well?”

“A good morning to you as well, Serpentus,” she warmly greets. Though nopony is within immediate hearing range, staff are buzzing about enough to stick to his alias. “I admit, I did not get as much sleep as I would have liked to,” she says with a sigh. In a more dour tone she complains, “Somepony gave me much to think about just before bedtime, unfortunately.”

“Poor thing,” he laments, reaching over to pat her left hoof consolingly. “Don’t ponies know you need your beauty sleep? They just don’t appreciate how much effort it takes to maintain that level,” he waves his wing in her direction, “of magnificence. This fella sounds like a jerk,” he finishes with a firm nod as he crams a spoonful of oats in his mouth.

“He can be a little trying at times,” she lightly agrees. “Especially when he speaks so passionately about breaking my poor heart and abandoning me.”

“Well thank the maker you got me, boss!” he proudly declares. “There ain’t nopony alive more loyal than yours truly. Why, just point the ingrate out ta me next time ya see ‘em and I promise,” he leans over the table and holds a hoof conspiratorially beside his muzzle, whisping, “nopony’ll ever see ‘em again,” he insists, sitting back and dragging the edge of his hoof across his throat.

“That…” she furrows her brow in consideration. “I would normally dismiss such assertions from a foal.”

Cure shrugs and leans back onto his seat to continue eating. “The zoo is the closest I’ve ever come to causing harm with my talent, and I can’t imagine many situations where I would do worse than I did on the train. That said, you watched me turn a bunch of plants into an alicorn suit. Doing the opposite, if anything, is technically easier once I have more magic.”

Celestia is perfectly aware that the colt has a kilometer wide protective streak in him. She’ll never forget what he said when she commented on the maladies he could have inflicted on his attackers. “I didn’t want to disappoint you.” With the knowledge she has now she can’t help but wonder just how truly horrific a fate could have befallen them if they had attacked at another time, or succeeded in hurting somepony he cares about.

Unaware of her silent contemplation, Cure asks, “I didn’t destroy your worldview too much last night, did I?”

Celestia blinks as her focus is drawn back to the conversation. She tilts her head from side to side in a so-so motion and replies, “Not as such, no. What we discussed went far beyond what I had anticipated, but when you have been around as long as I have you tend to somewhat expect the unexpected. Though there is much to do we, fortunately, have an abundance of time with which to gather information and, if necessary, to act.”

“True. So what’s the schedule for today? I mean, I know we’re going back to do the same thing, basically, but what about afterwards?”

“That will depend on you,” she answers leadingly. At his questioning look she explains, “I was wondering if, after you are done for the day, you would like to join me in some magical exercises. I did not want to overwork you, but if you feel up to it later you may benefit from some practice with fine manipulation.”

Cure’s eyes light up in excitement as he eagerly nods his head. “That sounds awesome, princess! What kinda exercises?”

Celestia can’t help but smile at the enthusiastic response from the nearly bouncing colt. “There are several available options that you may enjoy. I worry that perhaps you may not have enough practice with your horn for some, but at the very least you will gain valuable insight on how to train yourself at home.”

“Cool. Dawn and I have been doin some stuff kinda like I practiced with the whole TK field,” he explains. He passes his spoon to his left hoof and reaches his right out towards the fork and butterknife beside his bowl. Once within range the pair stand at attention like marching soldiers and move in bouncing hops up the top of his foreleg, around his shoulder, then repeat the process upside down until they’re deposited back on his napkin.

“That was very impressive,” she sincerely praises. “I imagine that gives you a significant advantage in your training with Lt. Silver.”

“It would, but I don’t use it there. I figure I’ll have to get enough experience fighting like a bat or pegasus, then figure out how to incorporate that as well as magic, eventually. Then I’ll have a good idea how to keep ponies safe no matter what tools are available to me.”

She gives a nod of approval while commenting, “A wise choice. It’s a shame we will not be able to spar for some time. I suspect we could learn much from the experience. Luna and I took care not to injure each other before we discovered…” she trails off with a meaningful look.

“Not even nine and she already looks forward to punching me in the face,” he sighs, hanging his head in dejection.

Still facing down, he slowly floats a folded piece of paper in front of the princess. Gingerly taking it in a hoof, she unfolds it, reads the note, raises a brow at the colt, and sets the note aside. “I am not saying that,” she stalwartly insists.

He rocks back, groaning as he looks up at the ceiling. “Aww, come on, boss!” He thrusts both hooves at the note and complains, “That right there is Grade A banter!”

“I am not going to, within earshot of anypony that could overhear and misinterpret, say…” she stops suddenly and scowls.

The colt gets a wide grin on his face and, in a perfect replication of her voice and tone, shouts, “Well you do have a very punchable face!”

The princess’s eyes go wide when a soft gasp escapes a mare pushing a cart in to refresh their drinks. The servant freezes as she looks between the two, noting the colt’s mirthful shaking and the princess’s horrified look. She tilts her head in thought and slowly nods, “Now that you mention it, your majesty, I think I see it…”

Celestia sighs into a facehoof, hanging her head in disappointment while Cure leaps up onto his hind legs to cheer. “Nice! See! Yer staff know how ta do it!” She can’t help but shake her head as he hops down, runs behind her back, gives the giggling mare a high-hoof, and rushes back to the table to finish his meal, bouncing giddily in his seat.

“I suppose I should be happy to see that you are well rested after yesterday,” she idly comments.

“Oh yeah, that mattress, boss,” he throws his head back and moans in bliss as he does a full-bodied roll from the hips. “Definitely gotta get some’a them for home. I’m thinking my endurance must’a got a boost too. I used way, way more magic yesterday and even though there was kind of… a weariness, maybe?” he suggests in a questioning tone. At her nod he shrugs and continues, “Yeah, that’s about right. Even if I could feel some fatigue it wasn’t like I was gonna crash like I did last time.”

“It is because the source of your fatigue was magical exhaustion,” she explains. “Keeping with the muscle analogy, you had ‘exercised’ vigorously all day long with little rest. If it were physical labor then your earth pony resilience would have helped you endure.”

“Ah, so my ‘magical muscles’ are a lot stronger, basically.”

“Mmhmm,” she hums as she swallows a bite of her breakfast.

“Shame I can’t flex them puppies.”

“In a way, you can. Observe.” With no visible change in the room, Cure suddenly feels a pressure much as he had when she first saw his horn and wings and, again, when she’d been enraged at the noble who attempted to foalnap him.

It subsides only a moment later as she explains, “You will continue to grow and become stronger with time. Eventually you will be capable of channeling your magic directly into the air around you, suffusing the area with raw power and intent. It is a very effective, if somewhat costly, way to subdue a weaker adversary without the need for any violence.”

“Woah. That was pretty hardcore, boss,” he excitedly beams.

“Indeed. You can do this with both pools of magic once you learn sufficient control. As you may imagine, the effect is far more pronounced with the other pool. I will not demonstrate it due to the oppressive nature, but the effect is quite significant on mortals. Particularly less magically powerful creatures.”

“I bet.”

She continues, “Still, even with your still-growing capacity your contribution yesterday was astounding. As I understand it, inducing labor is normally difficult and can be painful, not to mention a slow process.

“That alone is a blessing; that you could also eliminate their delivery pains…” she drifts off, closing her eyes and softly shaking her head. “I suspect a few statues will be the least of your concerns. Hopefully you will not have to deal with some sort of religion deifying you at some point.”

“That would be really bizarre to have to deal with,” he agrees. “I’m guessing that’s been done before?”

A deep frown crosses the princess’s face as she slowly nods. “Only a few times. None of them got very far before I was able to intervene. I don’t mind my little ponies’ appreciation, but I would prefer they show it by helping others rather than starting some silly cult in my name.”

Celestia scowls off at the distance and grumbles, “One particularly infuriating stallion attempted to use my status as the Alicorn of the Sun to besmirch members of the bat pony nobility. A foolish notion given that I bestowed those titles upon them myself.”

“Why?” he asks, brows pinched in confusion.

A deep sigh accompanies her explanation. “As I mentioned last night, some ponies see anypony else being elevated as a weakening of their own position.”

“Crabs in a barrel,” he says with an understanding nod. Apparently the princess isn’t exactly up on her crab fisherman idioms as she tilts her head in question. “When they catch crabs they put them in a barrel ‘till they get to shore. Dunno if it’s true, but supposedly you don’t have to put a lid on the barrel ‘cause when one tries to make a break for it another will latch on and pull that crab back in to try to get out themselves. At least, that’s how it was,” he waves a hoof over his shoulder to indicate “back there. Maybe they’re smarter here.”

“An apt analogy,” she agrees. “The stallion infuriated me so much that I remember his name to this day,” she continues. “Plentiful Supply believed the Knight title conveyed advantageous interest rates on business loans and better location options. He sought to head off a retired guard and competing store owner by making unfounded claims about nocturnal creatures.”

A snorted laugh escapes the colt before he stops himself. In a more subdued tone he commiserates, “Yeah, that’s probably not the best argument somepony could bring before you. Was this before or after… ya know?”

“Barely twenty years after. The sire’s service during the attempted coup is what prompted me to knight him. Obsidian Blade served for nearly forty years while his wives, then foals, managed their family’s businesses. His first wife in particular helped in the organization of the city’s shopping districts.” More heatedly she adds, “Supply envied their financial success. He specifically cited Nightmare Moon’s betrayal as proof that ‘Creatures of the night cannot be trusted.’”

Cure doesn’t bother suppressing the wince from that statement at all. “Ohhh wow. That level of ignorance goes right past moronic and loops nearly all the way back around to impressive.”

In a clipped tone, Celestia disagrees. “I assure you, I was not at all impressed when I arrived to find him attempting to rile up a mob.”

“I’m sure not,” the colt agrees. “I know it hurts to talk about it, but it may be wise to begin planning on how we’re going to push Nightmare Night in a slightly different direction over the next ninety years. I have some ideas, but you know your ponies better than I do.”

“You may not be aware, but the holiday’s origin has nothing to do with my sister,” she explains in a sullen tone. “It began as a series of harvest festivals that were held even well before her banishment. It was not until right around four hundred and seventy years afterwards that the celebration changed. Countess Harlequin of New Horseleans became so enamored with the festivities in some of the northern cities’ suburbs that she proposed a city-wide masquerade party in her own. The public loved the idea and, after a couple years, it became an official local holiday.

“Word traveled, as it does, and other cities began mirroring the event. As a way to include foals, some began having more family-oriented events where, rather than a ‘masquerade’ they would assemble a costume with the help of their parents. The Mare in the Moon was a popular pick with fillies and, after only a few decades, the holiday and my sister became linked.”

“But… it’s an official national holiday now,” Cure states questioningly.

The princess takes a deep breath and sighs, her disappointment nearly palpable in the air. “As it gained in popularity a bill was proposed to officially recognize it as such. I… abstained. I declined vetoing it. The rest, as they say, is history.”

Cure sets his spoon down, climbs off his booster, walks to the princess’s side, rears up, and wraps her barrel in a hug, smushing his face into her soft wing. Her left foreleg wraps around his back and squeezes him tight. “Sorry I can’t get ya proper-like, boss. I would’a brought my suit if I’d known I’d need it.”

“Oh come now,” she gently calls, releasing him and shooing him back to his spot. “There’s no need for all that. As much as I regret my choice I know my little ponies have enjoyed centuries of joy as a result. I’m sure she will understand.”

Cure nods against her side, then releases her and returns to his place before responding. “I think if it’s explained like that she may. She definitely won’t want to have ponies run away from her screaming, though. What I was gonna suggest is to start pushing for it to be more of a celebration of the night itself.

“Maybe even spin it as a celebration of bat pony culture. I’m sure there’s lots about their tribe that most ponies don’t know, and maybe those southern tribes had some kinda holiday we could… appropriate for the holiday.

“Regardless of what’s done with the holiday, I think your sister’s existence needs to become public knowledge. Everypony thinks the Mare in the Moon is a myth. I say pin what happened on Sombra and paint her as a fallen hero instead of whatever actually happened.”

“Sombra?” she questions. “You… you think he may have been responsible somehow?”

Cure shrugs and gives her a nod. “Maybe? I mean, the alicorn amulet is his work and you told me it's full of corrupting dark magic. Maybe one of the attacks he launched at you two carried a subtle influence. I told ya, the prick’s all about mind control. Maybe he stoked the fires of her jealousy while causing her plight to escape your notice,” he suggests with another shrug. “Can you be sure he didn’t?”

“I find it unlikely,” she begins, pausing as Cure rolls his eyes.

“Not what I asked, boss. Can you tell me for sure that it would be impossible for a dark magic user of his power to pull off?”

“Not impossible, but -”

“Uh-uh!” he calls in a raised voice, waving his forelegs frantically side to side. “No buts. The only living witness isn’t sure, your honor. I propose that henceforth the possibility be considered unless contradictory evidence is discovered. In light of this suggestion, we should honor the mare who helped turn back this dark plague at the cost of her own freedom, and instead look forward to the return and redemption of our wayward heroine.”

A single tear is quickly wiped away as the princess nods her head in agreement. Nothing is said as the pair finish their meals; the only sounds come from the scraping of Cure’s spoon on the bottom of his bowl and the quiet click of a lowered mug.

“I almost forgot,” Celestia begins. “A friend of yours plans on stopping by the hospital today. I suspect she was able to piece your identity together, though she has kept it to herself as best we can tell.”

“It must be Dr. Dawn then. I figure she probably knew either as soon as she saw the serpent or whenever the papers identified me as a healer.” Celestia nods, confirming his guess as he shrugs indifferently. “She insisted her patients make appointments with me. I trust her. She was the first pony outside of my friends and family to discover my horn and I’m pretty sure she didn’t tell anypony.”

“When you fell asleep?” she correctly surmises.

“Yep. When they found me conked out she checked me over. Needless to say, she noticed some ‘irregularities,’” he explains with air quotes, “including a few I haven’t even told you about yet.”

“Do I need to know?”

“Eh, I don’t mind sharing. It was all stuff I added to make it harder to foalnap or kill me. I told you about the subdermal armor, but I also have a way to jolt my system back awake if I’m rendered unconscious. You know about my heightened senses. I had to add nerve clusters to properly process that information. You’re aware that different parts of the brain do different things, I’m guessing?”

With a slight cringe the princess slowly nods. “Yes. I have seen firsthoof the effects of injuries to different regions.”

“Right, I can fix some of that, but there’s a few areas that work together to coordinate movement. The motor cortex, basal ganglia, and cerebellum all contribute. Balance, posture, stuff like that? I have a whole secondary nexus tied into a network of sensory ganglia feeding it info. That’s how I learned to fly in only a few hours. Pair me up with the best dancer in the world, let me use my talent while observing them, and within a couple tries I’ll be able to duplicate what they’re doing perfectly.

“There’s also a few other things I did to make myself harder to kill off. I have an entirely functional backup cardiopulmonary system, so a crossbow bolt to my heart, if it got through my skin, would only stop me for a second. Dr. Dawn didn’t know what all she was seein when she scanned me, but we talked about it over the next few days while we worked together.”

Somewhat at a loss for words, Celestia simply stares dumbly at the insane colt.

“Maybe in a few years I’ll have enough magic that I can upgrade some of your special forces teams,” he suggests. “I’ll never be able to do everypony, but there’s no reason you couldn’t have a few squads of volunteer super soldiers for the really dangerous assignments.”

“I find myself simultaneously impressed and mildly horrified,” she admits. “I suspect even some of my elite squads would balk at the idea of modifying their body, but… Well, there’s always somepony willing to try, I suppose. As long as it is safe and purely voluntary I cannot think of a reason to prohibit it.”

“My dam’s kinda the same way,” he points out. “It usually doesn’t take more than a small demo for ponies to recognize the benefits. For example, I could pretty easily upgrade your sense of smell and taste.”

He waves at their finished meal and continues, “Every meal is an explosion of flavors beyond anything you’ve ever imagined. You would be able to pick out and experience every dash of herbs, every sprinkling of seasoning, all the hidden depths of the plate set before you.

“And, of course, that’s just the side benefit. What was more important for me was being able to identify ponies by scent even dozens, or depending on wind, hundreds of meters away. I know who is in a building before I even approach the door. I could even tell that your agent watching from down the street got coffee and a doughnut from the bakery near Town Hall instead of their usual oats and tea some mornings.”

He leans forward slightly and whispers, “You can even tell which of your guards and employees went out for a drink after work last night and, roughly, how much is still in their system.” A look of intrigue passes across her face as he continues, “Of course, the flip side is you’ll know exactly who is gettin busy with who, when, and exactly how good a job they do cleanin themselves up after the act or when they’ve used the potty.”

The princess recoils with a disgusted look as the colt chuckles. “It’s not as bad as you’d think. Scents go from being gross to… well, not pleasant, but just, ya know… a thing. Part of the package is being able to increase or decrease your sensitivity, so you can, whenever you choose and without my help, go from ‘off’ to baseline to ‘way better than a bloodhound’ within a few seconds.”

He inclines his head in thought and comments, “That would be a pretty useful upgrade for your customs and border patrol guards, really, which is something I hadn’t thought of before.”

“I appreciate the offer,” she begins, “but perhaps when I’ve had time to put more thought into such a decision we can discuss it further. For now, I believe we really must get moving. Your first appointments should be arriving at the hospital in about forty-five minutes.”

“Good point, boss. Let’s roll.”

The pair’s arrival at the hospital draws quite a bit larger crowd than it had the previous day. Members of the press stand behind a barricade to the left and slightly behind their carriage and shout questions while the guard squads escorting them form a cleared walkway, and a slightly higher volume of expecting dams and their families are making their way in from all directions.

Cordoned off, out of the way of everypony else and surrounded by guards are a small group of ponies Cure never expected to see: protesters. Although he can’t see much through the throng of guards and other bodies between himself and the group, he can make out at least a few signs displaying his X’ed out cutie mark. The very idea that protesters even exist in Equestria never occurred to the colt. He certainly never anticipated somepony ballsy enough to protest here of all places.

“Princess?” he calls, getting the mare’s attention as she descends from the carriage. “What’s with all’a them?” he asks, tilting his head in their direction.

She lets out a long suffering sigh and, with a roll of her eyes, she explains, “Pay them no heed; it is inevitable that, no matter what, some ponies will find something to object to. The price for the freedom of speech, unfortunately, is that even fools are allowed to take advantage of it.”

Unable to read their signs from his vantage, he spreads his wings and hops in the air, hovering to the princess’s right as the pair make their way towards the hospital. Sure enough, they appear to be protesting him, though he can’t make out exactly what about him they are protesting. “They’re protesting what, though? That a colt not even ten years old flew halfway across the country and is workin nine hour shifts for free helping expecting dams?” He knows he’s probably not really the target of their ire, if they even have one. In all likelihood, he figures, the fact that there’s a crowd and media present is the real reason they are here.

“Who knows?” she dismissively answers. The way she ruffles her wings shows how truly annoyed she is with them. “As I said, they are fools and ingrates. They are not worth the trouble or effort of even acknowledging.” Her tone and words kind of surprise the colt. She strikes him as a font of near infinite patience, normally, especially for her “little ponies.” At the same time, he is aware that it’s far easier to dismiss stupidity when you yourself are the target. He figures she’s a little more miffed that, instead, they’re protesting him; a foal that she is acting as a guardian for, even if temporarily.

“We could ignore them,” he agrees, “ooorrr,” he slowly responds, dropping back to the ground, “we destroy them!” he quietly cheers with a distinctly predatory smile. The colt takes off, trotting in front of the carriage and diving through the line of guards blocking their walkway. A few yelps of surprise sound from his guards out as he trots closer to the group.

He can hear them rushing to catch up, preparing to interpose themselves between him and the already existing line of guards blocking the protesters. A raised wing and a glance over his withers slows the troops as Cure positions himself almost directly between the group and the frantically shouting reporters.

He plants himself on his rear, front facing towards the dozen screaming ponies as they shout about privileged alicorns, an unfair balance of power, wasting taxpayer bits, and a number of other allegations that make little or no sense. With drooping ears and wings and a sagging tail he turns to look at the reporters over his withers and gives them the saddest, most soulful wet-eyed look he can conjure; a terrifying weapon given his talent’s use in accentuating his features.

Flashes from dozens of cameras erupt from the crowd as several hardened newsponies coo and aww in synchronicity, then cast furious gazes at the protesters. Cure hangs his head, looks to the guards trailing behind him, and softly says, “But I just wanna help ponies.”

The princess emerges from the group of guards, looks down at the pitiable colt, glances to the abashed and suddenly quieted protesters, and sighs in disappointment. “Come along, Serpentus. I believe your first appointment is waiting inside. I’m sure the new dams will appreciate everything you are doing.”

“Okay princess,” he quietly responds as he stands and begins walking back to her side. He gives her right foreleg thigh a nuzzle as he walks by and she leans down to nuzzle into his mane. He makes his way to the hospital’s front door, disappearing from view. Celestia only spares the disheartened protesters a moment’s glance before she follows him in; the pair’s six heavy guards and Lt. Spear right on her tail. They find the colt waiting inside, just out of sight from the crowd, his cheerful demeanor back in place.

“‘Bout time, slowpokes. Geez, c’mon,” he calls, turning to resume his walk as the longer-legged members of the party easily catch up.

“I would prefer you not antagonize ponies,” she lightly scolds, “even if they seem like they may deserve it.”

“Aww, come on, boss! You saw how hard I shut ‘em down. Even odds they won’t show up tomorrow, especially when their friends and neighbors see those pictures. I'll give 'em credit for not hiding their identity, at least. Brave of 'em. Stupid, but brave.”

“Wait,” the lieutenant calls, shaking her head in disbelief. “You staged that whole thing?”

“Of course. Do you really think I care what a few morons think?” he asks with a scoff. “No way. The news, on the other hoof? I might as well’a served ‘em a bag’a bits on a platter with those pictures. Crap like that is a camera pony’s wet dr… err… bread and butter, especially the picture of our wonderful princess comforting the poor, disheartened colt.”

Lt. Spear glances over her withers to give the six guards a disbelieving look. A few amused smirks and some helpless shrugs are the only response she’ll get, so she turns back with a sigh. “Just… please, don’t put yourself in potentially dangerous situations. No more diving past security lines, okay?”

“I mean… since ya asked nicely, I guess. ‘Sides, not like I was in any danger.” Cure pauses and flips the switch back to his pathetic look as he turns to face the lieutenant. With his head tilted slightly down he paws at the floor, he asks, “You’d keep me safe, wouldn’t you?” The pegasus sucks in a breath, giving the colt a second to step closer, looking up to meet her widening eyes. “You won’t let the mean ponies hurt me, will you?” he continues, wings hugged tight to his body, lip quivering, and eyes brimming with hopeful tears.

Seeking to save her stricken lieutenant, Celestia extends her wing between the pair, cutting off the mare’s line of sight. “Quit harassing our guardians, please.” The lieutenant takes a shuddering breath and shakes herself out of the trance. She looks up gratefully at the ancient alicorn as Celestia nods down the hall towards their destination. “As you were, lieutenant.”

A mumbled “Dangerous” and an admiring “Impressive” are faintly heard from the six trailing behind them as the group gets moving again.

“Fiiine!” he whines. He rears up to clap his front hooves and sets off down the hall calling, “Let’s go bust some foals outta prison.”

Cure has come to the conclusion that either diabetes doesn’t afflict ponies, or it’s such a rare condition that he hasn’t seen a single indication of its development thus far. Considering that sugar is damn near its own food category for many mares, the princess and his mom included, he would have expected to encounter some signs of it if it were possible.

As a result, Cure has identified a third engineer for whom he may erect an altar to give thanks to along with whatever beings designed ponies’ buttholes and their esophageal sphincters. The pony pancreas engineer guy, sadly, will just have to be another unsung hero until such time as his (or her, he supposes) glorious visage is revealed to the grateful colt.

Cure’s seen only a few earth ponies with a little extra junk in the trunk and a fat pegasus is a very uncommon sight, but unicorns just don’t have to move as much with the reach and flexibility provided by their horns.

It’s a situation he finds himself in upon trotting into his first patient of the day’s room. A second mare, also of enhanced barrel circumference, is lounging off to the side as the earth pony nurse helps maneuver the, he’s guessing, pregnant one onto the birthing table. It’s a little difficult to tell given her physique.

Her darker gray coat and nearly white mane makes it really difficult for Cure not to envision a rhinoceros trying to climb up there instead of a pony, and he has to thank his talent’s control over his reactions to keep a snorted laugh from bubbling out of him.

The CNM and his assistant, both of whom are also unicorns, are reviewing the patient’s chart off to the side.

He kicks the door shut with his right hind hoof and calls out a greeting to everypony. “‘Mornin, y’all. Nurse Glade is still gettin the patient files organized. I know we’ve got one on the way,” he nods to the pregnant mare, “but little else. So… what’s up?”

“It’s my blood pressure,” the mare claims. “My doctor insisted I get an appointment with you, your highness.” A quick glance to the nurse in charge gets him a nod, though from the skeptical looks the stallion is giving the patient and her chart, Cure is easily able to read between the lines. Blood pressure may be the smoke, but the mare’s extra girth is the source of the fire.

“Ah. Well, high blood pressure can certainly be a problem. It’s been my experience that it’s more of a symptom than the cause of most health issues, though.”

Both mares share a confused look before turning back to the colt. “I’m perfectly healthy, though! What could possibly be causing high blood pressure of all things?!”

“Uhh… really?” he asks, glancing back and forth between the two. “Your doctor didn’t suggest any possible causes of your high blood pressure?” Both shake their heads no. All three medical professionals are looking on as if watching a train crash, waiting to see if he’ll somehow pop out the other side unscathed. “Well… offhoof, and keep in mind, I haven’t reviewed your medical history, the main culprit I’ve seen is usually diet-related.”

The other mare finally speaks up to argue, “That can’t be right! We eat healthy all the time!”

Cure’s pretty sure the pair are sisters. Though the other mare has a dark purple coat and a black mane their facial features are fairly similar, not to mention their scents being very close.

“Lots of veggies?” he asks, getting nods in return. “Fresh fruit?” Another round of nods answer. “Maybe your intake of carbohydrates is a smidge too high then?”

“Carbo-what-grapes?” the other mare asks, confusion evident on her face.

With no help coming from the medical team, Cure sits on his rear and starts naming possibilities, counting with his forehooves as he goes through the list. “Starches. Ya know, potatoes, pasta, beans, peas, oats, breads. That kinda stuff, basically. Of course the big thing I see a lot is sweets. Sugar products. Do you have more than a couple sweet treats every week?”

Both mares hesitate for a moment before the presumed sister hesitantly answers. “We… may have too many sweets. But mostly we eat healthy!”

“Well, there’s a lot of sugar in fruits too,” he explains. “Maybe it’s not so much an issue of what you’re eating. Too much of a good thing is still too much, after all. Again, I’m just tossing possibilities out there.”

The pregnant mare stops and gapes at the colt, then slowly turns to the other. With a completely bewildered tone she shouts, “Berry! I think he’s calling us fat!”

Cure, along with all three delivery team members freeze on the spot and go wide-eyed. Cure struggles to figure out how to respond, holding his hooves up, ready to placate the offended mare. He feels his wings raising off his back, but freezes in place when both mares suddenly burst out laughing.

“HAH! Look at ‘em!” the now named Berry shouts as she shakes in laughter. “Ohh, Brownie, honey, you got ‘em good! He looks like he’s about ready to panic!”

Brownie nods along, still laughing as she explains, “You’re not telling me anything my doctor hasn’t, highness. I hope you’re not upset, but I know I’ve got to get this weight off of me.”

Cure feels his wings sag, both in relief and in annoyance at the slight tease. “Well, you definitely got me there,” he admits to the laughing mares. Even the team members are chuckling as his panic ebbs away. “Alright, alright… you ready to get this show on the road?”

Done with his fifteenth patient of the morning, Cure steps out of the delivery room surprised to find the princess sitting at the nearby nurse’s station. Unbidden, the image of the lovely mare with a little nurse’s cap and a tight, white scrubs top with pink piping suddenly pop into his head.

The colt blinks a few times to clear out the bizarre thought while clip-clopping his way towards her as his guards file in behind him. A warm smile greets him when he rounds the desk and leans bodily into her side, nuzzling against her barrel just below her left wing.

“Not that I’m not delighted ta see ya, boss, but whatchya doin back here? Gonna try yer hoof at deliverin a few yerself?”

With a soft melodious laugh she shakes her head no. “I believe I will leave that to the professionals. I have lent a hoof in the delivery of several foals, particularly early on in my reign, but it would be a dire situation indeed if we were forced to rely on my expertise.” She pauses as she turns to look at one of the staff break rooms before continuing. “Director Storm says she has an announcement and requested my presence.”

“Ah. I bet we’re done with yer horniest ponies now. Time ta start on the flighty ones.”

Celestia closes her eyes and softly sighs. “Please never say that where anypony can hear you.”

Just as he opens his mouth to respond the meeting room door opens and the director steps out with a familiar cream colored unicorn trailing behind her. “Ears up everypony! I have a quick announcement!” she calls in a raised voice, “Every one of our known high-risk unicorn and the few earth pony patients have successfully delivered!”

A round of stomps, cheers, and a few whistles sound out as the mare continues, cheerily flapping her wings as she claps along. “Not only that, but thanks to your efforts,” she makes a point to stare right at him, “as well as our little miracle colt, we’ve had no stillbirths, no need for surgical intervention, and we’ve hardly had to dig into our supplies of pain medications at all!” Another round of cheers erupt as Celestia reaches down and presses the colt against her side.

“Now there’s still a lot of work to do, and I’m sure you’ve all noticed our other teams have started seeing an increase in the volume of walk-ins arriving already in labor, but I want everypony to find a moment to take a short break, come get a snack and some refreshments courtesy of Canterlot Confectionary Creations! Keep up the good work everyone!”

Cure looks up at the princess and asks, “Wanna go grab somethin, boss?”

She purses her lips and looks away. “Oh, I don’t know,” she airily responds, “I suppose it would be rude not to show my appreciation for their charitable contribution.”

“Oh yeah, downright inconsiderate, even,” Cure immediately agrees. “If you really wanna show your gratitude you should probably have three or four treats, minimum. I’m gonna go say hey to Dr. Dawn while you express the depths of your gratitude.” With one last nuzzle into her side he separates from the ancient mare and makes his way towards the director.

“Hey director,” he calls as he approaches, “do we have another volunteer joining us?” He turns to the revitalized unicorn and gives her a quick up-down before continuing. “You must be a recent grad from nursing school? This yer first time working the birthing season?”

“No, no!” Director Storm quickly waves in alarm. “Dr. Dawn is one of the lead obstetricians at the Canterlot University Medical Center! She’s been teaching there for over twenty years!”

Cure gawks at the doctor, shouting, “Whaaaaat? No way!”

“It’s true,” the doctor responds, barely holding back a laugh. She reaches out a hoof. “Dr. Crystal Dawn, your highness. A pleasure to finally meet you.”

“Likewise, doc,” he replies, giving her a bump. “Wait… Dr. Dawn? I think I’ve had more than a few of your patients come through here already. Ya know, there’s just one thing about this whole rigmarole,” he gestures to the area with a hoof, “I just don’t get, maybe you can explain it to me. Nopony else has been able to give me a straight answer, after all.”

“Oh? I’ll certainly do my best.”

“Awesome!” he cheers, clapping his forehooves. Adopting a completely serious demeanor, Cure looks between the two mares and asks, “Lots of mares seem to have a really hard time giving birth, right?” Both shrug and nod as he continues, “And that’s with all kinds of muscles set up just for pushing! What I don’t get is, how in the hay do those foals get in there in the first place then?!”

Both mares freeze, as does everypony within earshot. A few choked laughs and concealing coughs can be heard as whispers start resounding all around the three ponies. Near silence descends as everycreature strains to hear what their response will be. Undaunted, the colt carries on, “I mean, I asked my sire about it and he gave me this crazy story ‘bout ‘special hugs between ponies,’ and my dam just went on ‘bout ‘bloomin flowers needing watered,’” he explains with air quotes.

Shrugging helplessly he continues, “I get hugs all’a tha time and the lady at the flower shop just threw me out when I asked about waterin ‘em ta make foals! The rude old biddy!” Several nearby ponies start laughing quietly, doing their best to cover their faces. Cure looks around in confusion before casting his baffled gaze on the stunned pair.

Director Storm turns into a stuttering mess, mumbling “uhh” repeatedly, looking between the colt and Dr. Dawn in hopes that the mare will field the question. Dr. Dawn narrows her eyes in suspicion at the colt and begins to ask, “How could you possibly have made the Colt Tree if you don’t…” she pauses as realization dawns on her. “Wait, you’re just messing with us aren’t you?”

Cure snickers, his whole body shaking as the surrounding ponies all join in laughing. “Sorry, doc, couldn’t help myself.”

Director Storm just rolls her eyes and shakes her head in exasperation. “It must be an alicorn thing,” she sighs.

“It is odd, isn’t it?” Dr. Dawn asks in agreement.

Director Storm just nods in response. “How about the two of you grab a snack and Dr. Dawn can tell you how much progress they’ve made on your trees.”

“Oh yeah, the princess mentioned I needed to stop by and make some changes to a few of them. C’mon, doc. Let’s grab a doughnut. I’m curious how the viral trees are comin along too.”

Cure, unfortunately, was only able to spend a couple minutes talking with Dr. Dawn. As if summoned by the director herself, Murphy’s presence presented itself as a pegasus runner burst into the breakroom beelining directly for the young alicorn. Nurse Glade had sent for him with an emergency call regarding an appointment for later that had shown up early because “something didn’t feel right.”

Though Dr. Dawn was shortly heading back to CUMC to assist with patients there, she dutifully followed the galloping colt as he made his way to room four where Dr. Thunder and Nurse Sonic were reviewing a scanning device off to the patient’s left. Nurse Helena, the griffon member of the team, is doing her best to keep the mare calm, gently running her filed-down talons along the side of her neck while softly speaking with her.

The mare’s coat is a match for his real colors, though her mane was a flowing gold much like Wind Shear’s lovely color. Two more mares are to Cure’s left holding each other worriedly and the stallion Cure assumes is the sire is by her side whispering reassurances.

Though most of her face is covered, what little he can see of Dr. Thunder immediately tells the colt that whatever is wrong is pretty bad. Dr. Dawn taps the cleaning crystal and moves to the side to join Dr. Thunder while Cure activates his horn to scan the mare.

The results are almost exactly what he’d feared, though he does see a potential solution to the problem. It’s not one he’d been eager to suggest, but one of Ed’s closest friends had gone through this, minus the multiple pregnancy. It’s a painful experience and Cure isn’t sure if it’s right to let a family suffer needlessly because of his hang-ups.

He makes his way over to the three huddled professionals as he Sends a message to the princess.

<< Boss, I need an emergency ruling here. >>

<>

<< The mare I’m with? One of the twins very recently passed. The umbilical cord is pinched, almost knotted. They haven’t told her yet, but I think Dr. Thunder is going to in a second. >>

“Hold on, doc,” he quietly instructs under his breath. All three pause to look at the colt, with only Dr. Dawn able to sense something magical going from him to outside the room.

<< I’m sorry, Cure. I’m assuming you have not yet encountered death, given your amazing abilities. Are you alright? >>

<< I’m fine. That’s not the issue. They’re twins. The body is still here and is in good shape. The other filly is perfectly healthy. I can just… ya know… copy the healthy one to heal the other. >>

A moment passes as everypony stares hopefully at the colt.

<< Do it. Say nothing to the family. >>

Cure mulls it over for only a second. Everypony is clearly waiting for him to do something, but this is not a firefly or a few spiders or a tree. This is a sapient being that he is, essentially, making. Or remaking. With the unverified evidence of something akin to a soul, he isn’t sure what impact his actions will have.

Will whatever connection was there reestablish? Will a new one be created? Will the stallion’s “spark” still persist or will Cure be overwriting it with his own?

He’d previously discussed seeking a ruling from the princess on matters like this with his parents, but he’s not sure he agrees with saying nothing. On one hoof, the result of him using his talent should be a happy, if unaware family. It would also massively bolster the faith the medical professionals have in him, and likely, alicorns in general. It flies in the face of patient rights as they existed on Earth, though.

On the other hoof, saying something is going to lead to a whole lot of other questions. It’ll cause a lot of stress for the family, and could result in the foal being treated differently, assuming they say to go ahead at all.

Finally, speaking up would not only be disobeying an order, dubious legality and morality aside, but may possibly harm Celestia’s trust and confidence in the colt. She may later acknowledge his viewpoints, but there isn’t time to have some lengthy discussion. The dam is here. A foal is dead. Cure can revive it. The princess has issued a command.

<< Yes ma’am. >>

“Doc, prepare to deliver a pair of healthy fillies. Nurse? Towels.”

His horn ignites.

An aura blazes.

The dam gasps.

A heart beats.

The doctors startle.

Life begins.

The carriage no more than starts rolling before Cure climbs off his bench, hops up with Celestia, and pokes his snout at her side below her left wing. She lifts it slightly to accommodate the colt and he immediately wiggles his way underneath, resting his chin on her left foreleg thigh, only his head poking out from below her feathery appendage as he takes a deep breath and blows out a long sigh.

The unusual move gets a questioning look from the aged mare. “I’m glad I’ll be in Cloudsdale the next few days. Today… sucked,” he solemnly states. “Not ‘cause ‘a what I did, mind you. I’m pretty thankful for the ability to spare ponies that kinda pain.

“What sucked was how everypony started acting afterwards. I mean… I get it. We talked about the whole deification thing this morning. What I did… What we can do?” He sighs. “I’m familiar with a few polytheistic religions. Ra, Apollo, Helios, Amaterasu. There's probably a thousand other sun gods, but theology wasn’t his strong suit. There was even one named Sol, I think.”

He takes a deep breath and blows out another sigh, brushing against her with his cheek. “And God said, ‘Let there be light,’ and there was light. God saw that the light was good. He separated the light from the darkness and called the light day, and the darkness night. The first day ever. I’m not sure if that’s why the first day of the week is Sunday, but…” he trails off; the shrug of his wings felt below her own.

“I was certainly not responsible for creating the sun, Cure,” she teasingly corrects. “I know you like to poke fun at my age, but I assure you I’m not that old.”

“I think life was a few days later,” he continues, not responding to her comment. “Lands and seas are in there somewhere, then plants, animals, and eventually man. Then He took a day off, ‘cause even God is like ‘Work seven days in a row? Eff that, brah.’

“There were, of course, gods with a domain involving life. Gaia comes to mind, but I think she was associated with the world itself, not specifically ‘life’ as much. Of course there’s Asclepius, who’s staff became a well known symbol for healthcare,” he explains, projecting an image of the symbol. “I don’t know the extent of his domain, which was medicine, but I’m pretty sure I exceed it by a fair margin.”

“Fascinating,” she remarks upon seeing the image of his previous mark. “The story you quoted bears a resemblance to some of the creation myths I have heard. I suppose there are only so many ways to artistically describe how a planet teeming with life could come about.”

“We’re all just cosmic dust, Celestia. You, me, and everything that ever was or will be is the result of a one in a trillion longshot that eventually became reality, I reckon. Or more than one such longshot, maybe. Dunno. That aside, I never felt the divide like I did today.” With a cringe he admits, “I’ve never had somepony, multiple someponies, look at me like that. Even Dr. Dawn was left speechless. The difference between appreciation, even adoration and… worship. It made me feel like I did something wrong somehow.”

Genuinely curious, she asks, “Do you disagree with my decision?”

“No,” he immediately answers. “As long as the filly won’t have some kind of horrible lingering metaphysical condition then l believe we did the right thing. I wasn’t keen on not telling the family at first, but I suspect I know why you said not to.”

Celestia nods as she explains her reasoning. “There exists the possibility that the foal will be treated differently, even if it is not a conscious act. Perhaps she would be treated worse, or maybe even better than her twin, being ‘touched’ by the Alicorn of Life. Either possibility could have a negative impact on the lives of both girls and the family.”

“I agree with ya on that,” he says, “I am somewhat surprised you had me do it given you just told me yesterday to be careful about creating life.”

“You did not create life; you only restored what was lost. The filly is exactly as she should be. She is a perfectly normal pegasus filly, after all, is she not?”

“That’s a real narrow line you’re walking, boss. What if they weren’t twins? Or if they were fraternal? What if I scanned the pregnant mare six months ago? Should I turn back the clock and give the foal a re-do? Next time I may not be able to save that life. What then?”

“It’s simple, Cure. If you can save a life, do so. You will likely never regret that more than you would have the alternative. At the same time, do not blame yourself if you cannot. If you are unsure then do what you did today; seek the guidance of ponies you trust. Even when you are a thousand years old you will still need advice.”

She sighs and adds, “After all, one rarely, if ever, is faced with situations where they can understand the full ramifications of their choices. If only it were so simple...”

“Yeah. No unequivocally right answer, huh? I assume you have specialists when it comes to metaphysical conditions?”

“We do, and I agree with what I suspect you are about to suggest. I will have both of their conditions checked frequently to ensure nothing is amiss. Also, just to see what the results of your influence may be, even if there ultimately is nothing unusual.”

“Good. There’s an abundance of stories involving the artificial creation of life. There’s even more about bringing someone back. Lots of them go super bad all at once. I’d suggest even having a team of agents watching the family for a couple weeks to make sure nothing catastrophic pops up unexpectedly before you get an examination arranged. More than one team, even. With Sending crystals. You know how I like my redundancies.”

“I’ve noticed,” she comments with a tone of levity. “I’ll have a Thaumaturgical Health Specialist visit the family as soon as possible. You are aware that a basic scan is done on every foal before they leave the hospital, right?”

“I was not,” he confesses. “Last season I was helpin fix up any foals that had issues. There were a few doctors I was workin with but I figured they were double checking my work.”

“They were doing that as well. Eventually I will teach you how to perform the necessary scans to detect magical conditions, but with the subject being so complex and outside of your talent’s scope I think it’s best left to the professionals for now. You wouldn't have the capacity to do those as well as everything else you're doing now regardless.”

“Would those scans detect a changeling?”

Celestia considers the question for a moment before shrugging. “I would not know until I tried with one. Perhaps, but I suspect a changeling’s disguise would mask it to some degree. I would expect there to be at least some indicator that something is not quite right, though.”

“Hrm. The changeling thing worries me. It may be a good idea for me to come back once all the births are done and do a health check on all of your guards. Make it a family event, that way the real reason is obscured. Everypony has something wrong that could be fixed, after all. Vision, hearing, dental, arthritis, a crick in yer hip, an old scar, acne, a foalhood injury that didn’t heal perfectly… There is always something.

“And if anypony conspicuously avoids participating then maybe there’s a good reason. They could be a private individual or maybe they have something in their system they don’t want found. Or maybe they’re not a pony.”

She only thinks for a moment before nodding in agreement. “The guards themselves will not have the option of saying no. Health exams are mandatory; declining them is a freedom that is surrendered when enlisting. Unfortunately, I suspect such a large endeavor will have to wait until you are older; between officers and enlisted, including reservists, there are somewhere around two thousand guards in the city.”

The outrageously high number gets a shocked look from the colt as she continues, “Granted many are part time reservists, but perhaps you could do the much smaller number of commissioned officers and their families, then, when you are attending school, assist the enlisted creatures.”

“That’s probably best,” he agrees, nodding against her side. “Maybe just add in some sooner slots if any of the enlisted have a family member with a major problem. Or even a minor one that’s hard to fix normally.”

“That sounds great, Cure. I’m sure they’ll appreciate it. Maybe we can do that after things settle down some. Perhaps the week before the Squad Competitions?”

“Sounds good. So a distraction sounds pretty good right about now. Tell me about these exercises we’ll be workin on.”

Author's Note

Don't worry, Cure will briefly talk about the exercise in the next chapter.

There will be one more slice of life chapter, then we'll move closer to the big day. The plan, as it is now, is for the coronation to get posted before my upcoming trips. I don't expect to post any chapters on 8/28, 9/4, or 9/11. I kinda wish I could on the last one in particular since that'll be the one year anniversary of the story (minus a day), but with travel and some other RL stuff I do not see it happening.

EDIT: I just realized that the coronation chapter probably won't hit until after I come back. I think I skipped today when I was counting out Mondays. Ugh... my bad! /edit

I suspect some of you will get weirded out over the bathing scene, but that actually is likely more realistic than him taking care of his own hygiene. I'm pretty sure in most European nations, at least those where the royalty bathed at all, they would have servants there to assist them. Most of my search results indicated such, at least.
That's probably where the idea of the scene from Coming to America came from, really. It certainly is odd from the perspective an average person nowadays, but it's not like anything inappropriate is happening.

Also, I am in no way implying that if women were physically stronger than men that prostitution would magically become victim free. That'll be a topic that is perhaps delved into when Cure is older. It's a complex problem, and not one I'm prepared to address at this stage of the story, if at all.

Enjoy and, as always, thanks for reading.

Chapter 94: Professional Tentacle Inflation (SFW)

Monday, August 17th, 909 AB (the next day)
Shortly after sunrise

It’s a rare treat anymore for Vines to be able to wake up holding her eldest foal, so her eagerness nearly gets the better of her when she finds him still sound asleep, forelegs and wings wrapped tightly around her chest. Her poor, sweet little stallion was so upset after his talk with her majesty he didn’t even put his horn away before nodding off.

She risks lifting her head to survey the rest of the room. Lemon is already up and, judging from the motion she can hear downstairs, is getting breakfast ready. She can feel Amethyst’s back against her own. Tufts of brown and purple tails laid across her wife’s hind legs mean the girls are snuggled against her warm tummy.

Her husband and first wife are smushed belly to belly in front of her, behind her son, in an intimate embrace. Perhaps a little too intimate of an embrace given the way her tail is dancing and hind legs are twitching.

The twins slept through the night, as did Savvy, but they’re beginning to stir in their crib.

It amazes her, sometimes… oftentimes… to think how quickly their family has grown. It was just the four of them not even nine months ago. With Savvy’s birth four became five. Amethyst and Lemon, along with the girls, joining their herd nearly doubled the size of the family, then the twins came along and pushed them clear up to eleven strong.

She doesn’t know when she’ll be ready for more herself, but her wives are certainly feeling the itch for another; a natural thing when they have a good, strong stallion ready and willing to take care of their needs. She’ll be amazed if there’s not another dozen tiny hooves clip-clopping around their home within the next couple years.

It’s a dream come true. A dream she thought she would never have, what with her condition only worsening with time. And, as with anything else in life, it was not free.

It weighs on her every day. She has a wonderful, loving, caring, happy son. He would, quite literally, do nearly anything she asked without a moment’s hesitation. A genuine alicorn prince who wants nothing more than to make her happy.

But…

But… she wonders.

She can’t help but wonder. Any dam would.

Why?

Of the tens of thousands of foals born every year, why did her precious, beautiful, sweet son have to be the bearer of such a burden?

The words of her dam come to the forefront of her mind, and not for anywhere near the first time. “The maker only places on our backs that which we can carry.”

It makes her wonder… Have we become weak? Complacent? Stagnant?

One of the first things her son said when he remembered was that a society that stagnates will eventually die. Is that why the maker or Harmony or fate brought him to her? Is ponykind so… set that somepony… someone has to be imported? To push them forward? To unstick the wheel?

Or, as he suggested, is it all just some big cosmic fluke?

Will they ever truly know?

In the end, she supposes, she has few real options. If beings far beyond herself - beyond even Her Majesty - are meddling, then what could she, a simple earth pony, possibly do that would make a difference? All she can do is the same thing she has always done; love her son unconditionally, guide him where she can, and pray that he will have the strength to overcome whatever challenges may appear.

So far he seems to have it pretty well in hoof.

She slowly rolls to her barrel while focusing on thoughts of weightlessness to make the move less noticeable. Still wrapped up by her beautiful son, she carefully prys him loose and sets him on the bed between her and his sire, his neck twisted to face her so his horn doesn’t jab into the mattress. He paws at the air adorably, unconscious searching for her warmth.

She runs her snout along his right side, deftly dodging his clumsy attempts to latch onto her muzzle. Any little tuft of fur that’s out of place gets gently groomed back to proper order. All the while she can’t help but think that it’s no wonder everymare is eager to throw their fillies at him; his royal status and finances aside, ponies simply can’t resist a foal that smells of freshly baked cookies.

A lick on his cheek. Another on his neck behind his jaw. His snout snuffles a little and his left ear twitches. It needs licked too, apparently. So does that spot right at the base of his wing, even if the limb smacks at her chin for her efforts. Unappreciative, that one is.

His eyes move beneath his lids and he begins to stir in earnest, rolling to his belly against her foreleg. His legs stretch forwards and back, his wings spread tall and proud, and his back and neck arch up. Then he collapses completely limp. Clearly, now is the time to strike.

Careful not to wake everypony else, Vines raises up, hovers on all fours above her prone son, and slowly lowers atop him, sliding her forelegs under his wings to trap him in her embrace. The bath begins in earnest with long, damp licks down his brow and off the sides of his snout, up each ear, and over his cheeks. No mercy is offered. No quarter is given. Every out-of-place hair on her firstborn’s face must be ruthlessly corrected.

“Daaaaam!” he foalishly whines.

“What is it, sweetheart?” she innocently asks between swipes.

“Morning breath,” he weakly grumbles as he blasts a powerful snort across the mattress. “Blech!”

“And a wonderful morning to you, too,” she sarcastically replies, nipping lightly at the tip of his right ear.

His wings flex up, wrapping her chest and neck in a hug as he cranes up to nuzzle into her chin. “I mean… Love you dam. Good morning.”

“That’s better,” she huffs. “Lemon should have breakfast ready soon, so -”

She’s cut off by the wild flapping of tiny wings from his second youngest sister. Savvy flaps frantically, launching herself from her crib to the bed with not the slightest hint of grace. Her left wing slaps her dam and sire’s faces and sides three times in passing, causing the pair to stir with a snort and a groan. Mercilessly stomping her way overtop of them, the pink earth pegasus bowls into her brother’s neck, head first, and calling out “Coo!” on repeat.

“Well. Aren’t I the popular one?” he breathily asks.

He pulls her between his forelegs and spins her around, pinning her rump under his chest just like his is under his dam. Vines can’t help but smile as he gets to work. He nips gently at the base of her wing, prompting the girl to spread it out, then begins nosing through her plumage in search of wayward feathers. The excitable foal’s countenance flips in an instant; his methodical ministrations coaxing her to sudden calmness.

“SHH!” is hissed like a command from Cherry, who buries her head under her dam’s foreleg, her ears clamped down tightly on her skull.

Not even stopping the filly’s preening, Cure’s horn lights as he casts the Sound Bubble spell to surround the three of them.

“Look at these beautiful wings, Savvy. They’re too pretty to be all mussed up like this! We’re going to have to have a word with your dam, aren’t we?”

“In her defense, I don’t think she has a lot of preening experience, honey.”

“Neither do I,” he argues, pulling a feather between his lips and setting it aside. A small grunt slips from the filly when he tugs, followed by a happy hum when it comes loose. “I’ve literally not once preened my own. I’ve had ’em groomed a few times at the castle and at the spa, but only preened once ever and that was by the girls.”

“The girls?” she asks, her smile creeping into her voice.

“Mhmm,” he hums, testing a larger feather with his lips. He pokes it straight with his tongue and explains, “Glacial ‘n Drift woke me up doing it one morning. It’s super relaxing,” he admits, “even better than a massage, I think.” It really must be, Vines concludes. In only a couple minutes the previously exuberant filly has been lulled back to sleep, her chin resting atop folded forelegs like an empress being tended to by her servant.

“As adorable as this is, we really do need to go eat. You said you wanted to head in early today,” she gently reminds him. “We need to get everypony else moving too.”

A weary sigh escapes him as he carefully pulls his snout free of her rosy plumage and nuzzles into wild blue her mane. “Yeah,” he deeply inhales, slowly blowing out the disappointment. “I do need to get ready.” A touch of resignation creeps into his tone; Mondays and Fridays are typically busier at the hospital, he’d explained.

Fewer patients travel for days via rail in the middle of the week. Many of them aren’t working full time jobs due to their ailments, but family almost always accompanies them, making the weekend slots logistically easier for mates or friends coming to support their loved ones. Or, given the virtual guarantee that is their recovery odds, to be present during the life-altering event.

Vines eases off her son, careful again not to disturb the herd. He does the same, sitting up and planting a gentle kiss on his sister’s brow. The filly is encased in his chocolatey aura, then softly lifted over Amethyst and deposited onto her two older sisters, partially wrapping them in a feathery cocoon as she settles in. Task complete, Cure rounds on his dam and rears up, more fully returning her affection.

Wrapped in his forelegs, wings, and adoration, Vines can only smile as she tightly embraces her firstborn foal. He presses his brow against her chin, careful not to poke her with his horn. His warm breath tickles at her throat as he leans bodily against her. “Hey dam?”

“Yes, sweetheart?” she asks, knowing full well what’s coming next, but eager to hear it said nonetheless.

“I’m starvin, let’s go,” he hastily barks out, then slips out of her embrace and bolts for the door.

Mouth agape and brows furrowed in confusion, she looks down, stunned, at his vacated spot beneath her, filled only with a couple of Savvy’s discarded feathers. Still reeling from the colt’s tease, she is caught unprepared when he appears in a flash above her, landing lightly on her withers and embracing her again. “Love you dam,” he sweetly coos while nuzzling into her mane, then disappears in a flash again.

It only occurs to her that the Sound Bubble must have shattered at some point when she hears a groaning sigh from her first wife. “Your son is a freaking menace.”

As much as she would like to argue, Vines can’t help but admit that she isn’t completely wrong.

Cure had planned to begin his commute earlier than normal, but has no intention of finishing it prior to his typical arrival time. The extra minutes are, instead, dedicated to checking on his relays’ health and determining if any of them have been detected.

Wreathed in Invisibility and free of any scents, the colt leapfrogs from one to the next, landing on unassuming patches of grass. With the nearby vegetation consumed and replaced, he needs only stand on the replacement grass to establish a connection through his hooves.

Awesome. They’re all spreading nicely and there’s no sign anypony’s detected anything. The cylinder, a little tinkering, a bunch of crystals, and a few rituals and I’ll be all set. I definitely picked the right book when I was chillin with Tia.

When the last node’s status confirmed, Cure directs his gaze upwards to find an area clear of traffic. It’s not a difficult thing; the weather team is hard at work closer to the shore, guards patrol in small, tight groups, and aside from a fleeting few civilians still making their way to work, the vast majority of Baltimare’s airspace is wide open. A half klick diagonally up and to the southeast puts him well away from anypony and close enough to fly to the hospital in less than a minute.

The midair flash draws attention, as always. With little fanfare, the colt spreads his wings and angles them down, dipping into a short dive. It’s only a second later when he pulls up and back, fully opening his wings angled back and splayed wide to slow his fall. He sails in smoothly, slowing to fast canter speeds and drops, pacing himself to a quick trot on his way to his protection detail.

The sergeant and two specialists greet him with crisp salutes to his nod, and all four stroll in the front doors. His attention is drawn to a cream colored earth pony dressed in a dark blue suit, white undershirt, and matching blue tie.

The stallion stands as soon as Cure makes eye contact and approaches slowly, nodding to Sgt. Blackhoof as he does. “Your highness,” he greets, bowing his head respectfully. “Apologies for the interruption to your morning, sir. I work for the courts, and I have a document for you that we’re required to deliver in pony.” He begins reaching into his vest, pausing and flicking his eyes from Cure to his sergeant, silently asking for permission.

“Go ahead, mister. I’m guessing that’s my subpoena?”

A relieved smile crosses the stallion’s muzzle as he nods and extracts an envelope from his inner chest pocket. “Yes, sir. We weren’t sure if your highness would be expecting it.”

“Princess Celestia told me to expect you when we spoke last night,” he answers. The clerk is clearly amazed that the two alicorns frequently speak to each other despite the distance between them. Cure floats the envelope closer and, in a lightning-fast motion, flicks his wing forward and cleanly slices it open in a perfectly straight cut along the top fold.

“Oh,” he softly mumbles as he tries to get his wits about him after watching the casually intimidating display. The stallion worries his lip as Cure reads the letter, steadily growing more concerned at the young alicorn’s unnatural stillness. It only worsens when the subpoena is levitated in front of the dark earth pony guard.

“Thoughts, sergeant?” he asks, eyes still locked onto the shuffling clerk.

The dark stallion’s ears turn back and his eyes tighten as he reads down the notice. “I… I’m somewhat at a loss, your highness. My understanding is that they normally use a standard form, but that doesn’t seem appropriate here. I can’t help but notice it’s stamped from the office, not signed by anypony, sir.”

The colt nods once, refolds the letter, slides it back into the envelope, and levitates it in front of the stallion. “I understand you are simply the messenger,” he begins in a deeply annoyed tone, “so I would ask that you deliver a message back to whomever wrote this,” he requests, returning the envelope. “If somepony in the court’s offices is under the impression that they can ‘command’ me then perhaps I will need to come pay a visit and disabuse them of that notion.”

The clerk hastily takes the envelope back and shoves it into his pocket. “Yes sir! I’ll inform them right away, sir!”

The colt holds a hoof up to forestall the stallion’s retreat. “I don’t blame you, dude. I’m assuming you didn’t type that out yourself,” he suggests with a questioning lilt.

“No, sir! I don’t write orders! I only serve them!”

He softens his gaze and nods once. “Then don’t stress so much. I ain’t gonna bite yer head off. Tell them to rewrite it as if they’re sending it to a prince,” he motions to his crown, “and not somepony they can just order around. Also, have them schedule it so it’s not right in the middle of my shift here.

“I have a dozen ponies coming from all across the country for life-changing treatments. I’m not going to disappear on them at nine o’clock and screw up everypony’s schedule. As a matter of fact, gimme a second.”

The clerk opens his mouth to say something, but stops himself when the colt’s horn glows golden. A rolled scroll flashes into existence just above his horn which he levitates to the stallion. “Here you go. An official memorandum telling them that they are to be prepared to receive myself and my guards at eleven fifteen. Unlike whoever sent your message, I have the guts to put my name on my orders. Feel free to quote me on that, okay?” he suggests with a wink.

“Yes, sir! Thank you, your highness!” he says, ducking his head in a bow, his body language all but screaming his desire to run away.

Cure dismisses the stallion with a shallow nod before moving on. He greets the receptionist mares by name on the way through the doors leading to the ICU. Once the group is out of sight, he glances back at the sergeant. “You three already got yours, I’m guessing.”

“We did, sir.”

“Were they scheduled around the same time?”

“No, sir. Spread out over a couple hours.”

“Hmm. Does Lady Bush have family in the courts, perhaps?”

“I do not know, sir,” he admits after a moment’s thought. “Should we investigate?”

Cure hums in consideration and shakes his head no. “Nah, it’s not worth raising a ruckus just yet. Somepony probably thought they were being clever, but I don’t really see what the point was.”

“Maybe that was the point, sir.”

“Reckon it could be, sarge. Either way, if something like it happens again I’ll just march in there and deal with it myself.”

“Uhh… sir?” the stallion warily asks.

“Not like that, sergeant. Probably. No, I mean I’ll probably be able to tell who the troublemaker is.”

Voice filled with curiosity, Spc. Strafe asks, “Some kind of alicorn thing, sir?”

“Not really, but I’m betting an annoyed alicorn marching in there will probably scare the piss out of the guilty party. I’ll be able to smell their anxiety as soon as I show up there.”

“You… can smell anxiety, sir?”

“Sure can, specialist.” He turns his neck to look back with his right eye. Playfully, he asks, “Why? Is that making you nervous?”

“It’s not!” she quickly replies, belatedly adding “sir” after a moment’s pause. Cure gives her a teasing smirk and turns back. She tries to subtly crane her neck right and lift her wing a little to give a quick sniff-check. The young mare looks back up to find the colt hovering backwards just a hoof off the ground, wings spread but unmoving and meeting her eyes with a face-splitting grin.

Her mortification reaches new heights when both stallions start shaking in not-so-quiet laughter. The mare’s light gray coat turns nearly fluorescent under her heavy plate and helmet.

“Relax, specialist,” the colt insists, spinning around and landing to continue his trot. “The strawberry oil you’re wearing is quite lovely, in fact.” A pink tint creeps up her muzzle and over her cheeks as she fights to hold in the embarrassed squeak. “I’m talking about pheromones anyhow; stuff other ponies can’t smell that I can. I’m not sure how to describe scents, really. I guess anxiety is like a lime going bad, sort of.”

“That’s kind of weird, sir.”

Cure simply shrugs his wings in response.

“In regards to Friday, sir,” Blackhoof cuts in, “unless you have further need of us later, Spc. Strafe will report to Base Carol after our shift today to arrange your transportation. Also, if I may make a suggestion, sir?”

“Always, sergeant.”

“Protocol requires that his highness has a minimum of three guards in his protection detail. If one of us is providing testimony then, until we can finish, we would be falling short of that.”

“Oh. So you’re suggesting we bring Bravo Team along?”

“At a minimum, sir.”

“Good idea, sarge. I think just the six of you should suffice, though. While it’s tempting to stroll in there like I own the place, I don’t want them to think we’re taking the building over. Please inform Sergeant Glazer that his team’s presence will be required.” After a moment’s thought he adds, “I want you all kitted out for work. None of those fancy dress uniforms, sarge.”

“Understood, sir.”

“I also need to go visit Carol at some point just so they can show me what all the carriage can do. The princess said it’s pretty loaded up, but the only thing I know how to do is darken the windows.”

“I can show you, sir,” Spc. Twist volunteers. Cure glances over his withers at the unicorn and cocks a brow. “Sgt. Glazer or I could. We’ve both been briefed on everything. If it’s okay, I can ride in the cab and brief you on the way to court. It shouldn’t take more than a few minutes to show you everything.”

Cure recalls that it was Sgt. Glazer that was inspecting the wards on the carriage on his date night. “That’d be great. Thanks, Twist.”

“You’re welcome, sir.”

The group makes the rest of the trip in relative quiet, occasionally greeting passing ponies as they make their way to the double doors that lead to the ICU. Dr. Nala is awaiting his arrival, standing outside of the ICU area speaking to the mares at the reception desk. “Hey everypony,” he calls out, waving a wing in greeting as he approaches. “How’s my favorite monochromatic mare managing on this marvelous Monday morning?”

A wide smile graces the zebra’s face as the nearby mares giggle at his flirtatious mien. “Ayh ahm qwuite well, your high-nees. Ayh ahm pleezed to say owr last paysheent waz stabeel enouf to bee ahmeetid.”

“Oh? Should I go pay ‘em a visit? I got a few minutes before my transfers start showing up.”

The mare hesitates, her snout scrunches slightly, then sighs, hanging her head in disappointment. “Et wood be appreeshiated, your high-nees, but I do not know eef you can help thees won. She ahrived Saturday morneeng ahfter beeing found to ave crashed afteer she imbaybed ehn excess. Thees is err third time thees yeer, ahnd the dameeg… ees seegneefeecant thees time.”

“Ah. Had a few and took to the air, did she?”

With a nod she answers, “Eet ees as hees high-nees says.”

“How bad is she? She didn’t bash her head, I hope.” The mare’s wince is a good enough answer for him. “Well… if I can fix up somepony that had a stroke I should be able to fix up somepony… a pony, right?”

“She ees.”

“I should be able to help her too. As for making sure this isn’t a recurring theme… I’ll have to ponder on that.”

“Ahv course, your high-nees. She ees in room two oh seveen.”

“Cool. Thanks, doc!” He hears her reply as he makes his way back out of the ICU heading for the elevator. The dismayed groan from his sergeant nearly causes him to cackle when it becomes evident they aren’t headed for the stairs.

His amusement must have shown in his body language, as the dark stallion sighs and quietly complains, “Really, sir?”

Not slowing his pace, Cure calls back over his withers, “Something wrong sarge?”

“Not at all, sir,” he poorly lies.

“If you want, you could always take the stairs, ya know? I can’t imagine assassins are going to suddenly come crawling outta the woodwork between floors.”

“I’ll be fine, sir.”

Spc. Twist smirks at his CO, teasingly suggesting, “Maybe ya oughta hide a mint or two in your pack, sarge. Dam always said mint’s good for an upset gut.”

“It’s one floor,” Spc. Strafe lightly mocks. “I know you earth ponies don’t like heights, but really, sarge?”

“I don’t mind heights,” Cure idly comments.

“You have wings, sir,” she retorts. “And you’re not an earth pony.”

Cure barely manages to keep his ears and tail from showing a reaction to that. He recalls quite vividly when the world shoved proof in his face that the earth pony that he was essentially died that day. He’s pulled out of his thoughts by the sergeant’s gruff reply.

“It’s not the height, it’s the motion,” he growls back. “Feels like my stomach gets left behind only to slam into my spine when we stop.”

“How the hay can you ride the train then, sir?”

“It’s different!” he defensively insists. “You can see that you’re moving, and it’s not an up-down motion. That isn’t natural!”

The mare half spreads her wings and smirks up at the much larger stallion. “Seems pretty natural from here, sarge.”

“Same here,” Cure agrees, stretching his wings up to fluff his feathers before settling them back into place. “We can take the stairs if you want, but I’m tellin ya right now, you’ll be seein more and more buildings with elevators in ‘em sooner or later. Best thing to do is look in the direction you’re moving. ‘sides, like Strafe said, it’s only one floor.”

Despite his concern, the sergeant was perfectly fine on the elevator; unsurprising given the group ascended less than five meters total. It was by no means a quick ride, either. Half way through the crawl the impatient colt quietly grumbled, expressing his regret for not taking the stairs after all.

He had to reassure the nervous operator that it wasn’t her fault. A jerk of his head back to an outstretched wing and an explanation that he’s taken to more extreme motion lately placated the worried mare, even if the thought of spiraling through the clouds seemed to cause the sergeant a small amount of discomfort.

A quick stop at the nurse’s station to review the patient’s history and get directions has the colt escorted to the right room. The nurse asks to join him while he tends to the patient, though he suspects she’s more interested in tagging along for the story than actually providing any assistance.

He knocks and, after a male voice calls to come in, opens the door to trot inside with her on his tail. He finds the patient asleep on her bed, mostly covered by a sheet, along with a stallion in his late teens laying on a couch by the window, holding a book in his wing curved in front of him. The scent and age all but confirm he’s the mare’s son.

The young stallion drops his book and scrambles to his hooves, pausing only when Cure waves a hoof to calm down.

“Sup, dude?”

Caught off guard by the royal’s informal address, he hesitates a second to answer, shock still written on his face. “Your highness?” he asks, glancing at the nurse who has busied herself checking the patient’s vitals.

“At ease, bud. Doctor Nala suggested I come take a look at your dam. Said she took a bit of a tumble after maybe partying a little too hard and it’s not something they can easily fix. Nurse Fever came along to lend a helping hoof.” Cure motions to the mare with his snout and says, “I’m going to go ahead and give your dam a look if that’s alright.”

“Of course, sir!”

Cure approaches the bed, half climbs up, and touches the mare’s hoof with his own. It’s not necessary with his horn out, but it’s a clear indicator for non-unicorns when he is or is not using his talent.

What he finds is an absolute mess. The mare has entire patches of her coat scraped off from the fall along with a dozen breaks and fractures, including the site of the impact; right on the crown of her head. The whole area is as much her bone as it is Origin Cells that the ICU team used to fix her up. Though there is some internal bleeding, there isn’t enough to put significant pressure on her brain.

She’s massively underweight, which will complicate healing her, and yet none of that is a huge problem compared to how much damage she’s done to her internal organs. Her head is no better; entire swaths of her brain are highlighted in red in his mind; particularly her cerebral cortex and frontal lobe. Between the damage from alcohol abuse and the impact, Cure isn’t sure how functional the mare is going to be when she does wake. She has more cumulative brain damage than anypony he’s scanned thus far.

Cure takes his hoof off the mare and looks to the stallion who has approached on the other side of the bed. “Okay. So I’m confident I can help your dam. It’s not going to be a once and done kind of deal, though; she’s simply too underweight for me to magic this all away in one sitting. I gotta admit, though… I’m not thrilled with the idea that she’s going to go right back to it after I patch her up.”

“Sir?”

“I’m not gonna beat around the bush. According to her chart this isn’t the first time she’s done something like this. She ended up in the ER two times this year already and, unless I’m missin my mark, she isn’t exactly improving,” he finishes, waving across the disabled mare.

The stallion takes a deep breath and explains, “Dam’s kind of… lost her way. My sire died back in nine-oh-three. Boating accident.”

Cure is aware that ‘boating accident’ could mean a lot of different things, but the immediate question of how a pegasus could have drowned is the first thing that comes to mind. Regardless, he’s nowhere near tacky enough to interrupt the stallion to ask for clarification.

“Dam just kind of broke. She started drinking. A lot. Lost her job. That only made her worse. A year and a half later one of my moms decided she’d had enough and… that was how my family fell apart.”

“Ugh… I don’t know what to say, bro. Condolences don’t exactly seem adequate. Any younger siblings you’re taking care of?”

He shakes his head no. “Two, but they went with their dams. She only has me. I stayed, trying to take care of her as best I could.” He hangs his head and says, “I was on patrol this last time when they found her.”

“Oh? You’re in the Guard?”

“Private Ocean Swell, sir. I’m in the reserves. It was one of my weekends.”

“Gotchya. Okay, so first things first. Your dam will be fine, physically at least. I’m assuming the guard is involved since she took to the air while drunk?”

The stallion shrinks slightly and nods.

“Well I’m not gonna magically fix that for her, but I have a somewhat crazy idea that may help.”

“Sir?”

“We’ll worry about that when she’s awake. I can fix her up some, but ultimately I’ll need to hook her up to one of my plants to supplement her lacking mass. How about I heal her up as best I can now, then you can bring her by later?”

The stallion lights up, excitedly nodding his head. “Thank you, sir!”

“Sure thing, dude. The cath will need to stay in until she’s up and moving, so no need to step out. Just gimme a few minutes to do my thing.” The stallion nods and steps closer, half resting on the bed to hold his dam’s hoof. Cure does the same on her other side and activates his talent.

He wasn’t exaggerating when he said she was underweight; the little in fat reserves she has are liquified and shifted through her bloodstream to fuel the repair of her brain. Even with his magic flooding her system, Cure is careful to do so slowly. He is aware that many ponies would strongly object to doing anything to a pony’s brain, but as far as he’s concerned that’s a somewhat silly argument when all he’s doing is returning it to optimal function.

He acknowledges that there is some merit to the argument that any change to the brain is a fundamental change to the pony him or herself, but that ignores the fact that ponies change literally all the time no matter what.

Depression changes a pony. Poor nutrition does as well. Even something as simple as not getting enough sleep alters the way a pony behaves. An argument that whatever quasi-divine source using him as a tool is changing a pony, while valid, is simply not something he’s overly worried about. If such a being can wholesale copy someone’s entire existence, or has power over souls themselves, he figures they probably won’t struggle too much fixing a few kilograms of squishy brain meat.

It takes nearly ten minutes to move the fraction of a kilogram of matter where it’s needed and allow his talent free rein to fix what the mare has broken. A light touch on her other internal organs is all he can spare with her dwindling reserves. He spends the last few moments putting the finishing touches on the ICU staff’s work, then fixes up her bruised and coatless patches before ensuring that her discomfort from the catheter in her bladder will be minimized.

Healing done for now, he separates from the mare and gives her son a quick summary. “Alright. I did what I could with what she has. She’ll probably wake up soon, and I’m betting she’ll be pretty confused. Bring her down to my office in a few hours. I have one of those healing trees down there I can use to supplement her missing mass, okay?”

Located in the northwest corner of the hospital, Cure’s “office” is one of the very few with more than one set of windows. Though it doesn’t get direct sunlight while he is at work, it still allows his stand-alone miniature plant an opportunity to get a few hours each evening. More importantly, it gives him access to an exterior wall; a fact he didn’t hesitate to take advantage of.

Beneath the long planter that takes up most of the left side of the room is a single, thick root leading to the green space outside his window; a small park with an artificial stream, a dozen trees, and a short, winding path flanked on either side by carefully tended flowers.

While the colt’s invasion of the space is nowhere near as complete as his own home, the entirety of the grassy areas have been systematically replaced. Unlike his parents, the groundskeepers still have to maintain the yard, but they’ve noticed and frequently discussed what a positive impact having Alicorn of Life nearby has had on the small slice of nature outside his windows.

Aside from the vastly oversized plant, which is far more visually appealing than his normal Origin Cell Trees, the inside of Cure’s office is exceedingly plain for a member of royalty. The long planter and plant take up the vast majority of the left wall facing west, the two north windows, which originally had wooden blinds, have been mostly covered by a creeping vine with large, sunlight-gathering leaves.

A single sink set into a small vanity is nestled in the far corner with a large but atypically short couch for patients stretching across half of the back wall under the windows. Two more couches for accompanying family take up the entirety of the right side of the room, giving the office the appearance of a living room more than a pseudo-doctor’s workspace.

With spells like Cleaning and Sterilize there’s no need for paper products lining everything, nor do the couches need to be made of water-resistant material. Instead, they are exceedingly well crafted and exceptionally comfortable couches which, aside from their diminutive height, would be found in any well-to-do pony’s home.

Using matter from his plant, Cure decorated the entirety of the wall above the couches with stunningly detailed, colorful, but anonymized, diagrams of every type of creature he has encountered thus far, copies of which have been shared amongst the medical staff and with Merryland University’s School of Medicine.

Despite the gravity of the reason for their visit, the sire of the older filly Cure is working on can’t seem to stop glancing over those same images.

“Playground accident?” Cure echoes.

“Uh huh. Was pwayin on uh tee’r towd’r un I fwell,” the teary-eyed unicorn explains.

“She and her friend were runnin back and forth on the board you’re supposed to sit on,” her dam steps in to explain. “They bumped into each other in the middle… she fell, hit the support beam.”

“Sure did,” the sire absently agrees, still looking at the wall. “Gave it a big smooch on the way down.”

“Daddy!” the filly snaps, glaring at the stallion. Cure can’t blame her or the annoyed dam; while he’s not wrong, the impact shattered her jaw and left her permanently disfigured. Though it wouldn’t have been a significant disability, the devastation it would have wrought to her social life would have been extensive, especially when trying to find a mate in a few years.

“Easily fixed,” Cure assures them. “It’ll feel weird, what with me shifting teeth around and all that, but you won’t have any pain. Do you want to be awake or would you prefer to take a little nap while I work?”

“Awake,” she immediately insists. Cure casts a quick glance to the parents, both of whom nod in assent.

“Alright. Here’s what we’ll do.” Cure hops up on the couch with the filly, a move that gets a raised brow from her folks and a slight blush from the girl, despite there being enough room for him to literally run laps around her. His horn lights and the vine above the pair suddenly grows a leafy stem that hangs heavy with a large flowering bud. It grows in size until nearly as large as a hoof, then blooms into a massive golden lily. Cure plucks the flower, stem and all, in his aura and levitates it down to his right hoof.

Blushing furiously at this point, the filly looks between the flower and the colt in bewilderment. He gives her his most charming smile and explains, “Many parents find what I do difficult to watch. I am going to move things around, after all, which looks pretty odd. What I want you to do is to take this flower,” he offers it to her, “and take a big, long sniff of it,” he instructs, miming holding one up to his own snout with his empty hoof. “Hold it there for thirty seconds and I guarantee you’ll be all healed up.”

She barely spares a glance to her emphatically nodding dam before gingerly reaching out to accept the flower from the similarly colored alicorn. Cure’s heat sensing ability shows an even greater spike when their hooves briefly come in contact. She reverently holds the flower, slowly raising it to her snout before taking a small, then much deeper sniff. “Sweet Celestia,” she coos, enjoying the powerful fragrance.

“Nah, the princess usually smells like raspberries with a hint of vanilla,” Cure idly comments, drawing curious looks from the three. He steps closer and sits on his haunches, his chest nearly touching her right side. Ignoring her crimson glow, he reaches up to turn the filly’s head so she’s looking directly at her parents. With the flower obscuring their sight he gets to work realigning her jaw, fixing her teeth, repairing the deformed bones and cartilage, then cleans up all the little odds and ends every pony seems to have such as slightly deteriorated sight and hearing and some minor wear on joints.

A moment passes in silence while her parents eagerly await the reveal. “Aaand done,” he calls, pointing a wingtip at the mirror affixed to the back of his door, “Go on and take a look. See if there’s anything you’d like changed while you have me.” To his amusement, the filly levitates the lily by her side, trailing with her as she hops down and nearly sprints to the door.

The parents are hot on her tail, staring in wonder at all three of their reflections. “Oh honey!” the dam squeals, leaning to pull the girl in a tight embrace. “You look absolutely amazing!”

Cure had already hopped down and followed more sedately behind them, fairly confident what would happen next. The lack of wings takes away from the hug somewhat, but the enthusiasm from both dam and daughter is commendable nonetheless.

He speaks up when the three separate, looking to his right at his wall-covering plant. “I’ll tell ya what. I don’t normally do this, but,” he pauses, lighting his horn as another large bulb floats in front of him, “here’s a little something to commemorate the occasion. Plant this fella when you get home and, with a little watering and some sun, you’ll have yourself a whole plant full of those guys within a few weeks.” He looks around conspiratorially and whispers, “Just don’t tell anypony, okay? I don’t need my fillyfriends getting jealous, what with me givin flowers out to other girls and whatnot.”

All three nod in agreement, startling slightly when he opens the door behind them. “Awesome. Just stop by the nurse on your way out. They’ll have to update your records to reflect the change. And do me a favor,” he teasingly requests of the filly, “be super careful from now on, okay? Save those kisses for some lucky colt instead of the playground equipment.”

In retrospect, he’s aware he all but asked for it, but at the moment he was caught completely by surprise. As if they’d known it was coming, all three guards lean around the doorframe and look in as the girl lunges at him, wraps her forelegs around his neck, and plants a long, wet smooch on the side of his muzzle. Her dam looks proud. Her sire looks ready to panic. The sergeant and two specialists merely watch on, nodding in silent approval while quietly laughing.

“Oh myyy,” he quietly mumbles, prompting the filly to finally let him go. The filly turns to flee so fast her tail brushes over his snout.

Her wide-eyed sire points out the door and shouts, “I’ll go check on her!” before taking off as well.

He regards the stock-frozen mare, still standing there staring with both flower and bulb floating in her aura. “Don’t worry,” he smoothly assures her. “Stuff like that happens all the time.”

Distracted pony-watching while hovering by the window, Cure is pulled out of his musings when Sgt. Blackhoof leans in the door. “Sir?”

“Sup, sarge? They here?”

“Yes, sir,” he answers, glancing at the bizarre looking plant that takes up half the room. “Should I send them in, sir?”

He drops down to the floor and sits in the middle of the room facing the door. “Sure thing, sergeant. Whenever they’re ready.” The stallion nods and steps out of the way to wave the three ponies into the room.

The son enters first looking much better than he had when Cure saw him a few hours prior. He begins to duck into a bow, aborting the motion when Cure motions for him to relax on one of the couches. He refocuses on the door just as the mare is wheeled in.

Wheelchairs do exist, but are used exclusively for bipedal creatures like abyssinians, minotaurs, and presumably avians, assuming any ever come to Equestria. The quadrupedal equivalent is simply a small bed on wheels.

There are versions available for ponies that have lost one or two legs and can’t use prosthetics. They’re more along the lines of a wheeled bench, though are contoured and cushioned for the pony’s barrel. The more expensive kind are enchanted with the same spell that his crown and shoes have to keep the pony from somehow getting separated from the unit, but typical versions have straps that go over the pony’s withers and croup.

They’re inconvenient and, after several hours of use, can become uncomfortable. Using the potty with one can be difficult as well, depending on which limbs are missing. It’s a wonderful day for all involved whenever Cure is able to tell a patient they’ll never need one again, and the colt has on more than one occasion suggested that the hospital provide a trash compactor or firepit for the patients to commemorate their newfound freedom from the devices.

He gives the mare a pleasant smile and nods in greeting. “Why Miss Breezy Southwind, I’m quite relieved to see you more-or-less up and about. Thank you, miss,” he says, turning to the orderly and waving her away. “I’ll take it from here.” The mare ducks into a bow as she turns to leave, pulling the door shut behind her. “Would you prefer to stay on the bed cart or would you like some assistance transferring to my normal patient couch?”

“I’m fine, highness. Thanks an awful lot for fixin me up. My son says I just ‘bout finished myself off. Says I might not’a woken up if it weren’t for you.”

“Eh… I’m not a neurologist or a brain specialist, exactly. I can see what’s wrong, but I don’t have the experience a real doctor does, so I couldn’t really say for sure one way or the other. I’m assuming they would have contacted me sooner or later if they thought you wouldn’t. Either way, you had a lot going on that would have probably brought you to me eventually.”

“Don’t know what we woulda done,” she says, voice thick with emotion. “My boy can’t be missin work takin care ‘a me all the time.” More despondently she adds, “Says an investigator’s gonna be by ta talk ta me soon, though.”

“I suppose they would once they find out you’re doing better.”

“I’m supposed to contact them now that she’s awake,” Ocean explains.

“And here’s where I had a bit of an idea. It’s a tad extreme, but what I’m proposing is that I give you a small implant to help with the whole drinking thing.”

“Help how?”

“Help by making you never want to drink ever again in your life once you test the waters. The implant will release a compound into your system if it detects more than about a drink’s worth of alcohol in your blood. If you gain some weight you may be able to have a little more, but too much and you’ll be sicker than a dog, Miss Southwind.”

The mare’s face contorts in disgust as she eyes the colt like he is slow or something. “Why would I want that?! That don’t sound like help ta me! Ainchya suppose’ta make ponies not sick?!”

Cure chuckles and nods, patiently explaining, “The idea is you’ll learn really, really quickly that a drink is not the solution to what woes ya, ma’am. I bet it would also go a long way towards showing you’re genuinely sorry when that investigator comes back to ask questions. Think of it this way, Miss Southwind: It’s proof positive that you’re wholly dedicated to changing your ways. I’m also going to strongly recommend you consider starting counseling before you have to go to court for this.”

“Counseling?!”

“You have an alcohol problem, ma’am. One that almost got you killed. One that coulda hurt somepony else. One that only seems to be getting worse with time. Taking away the bottle won’t make you suddenly all better. It’s barely even a start. What it does show is that you’re committed, though, and I bet when you stand in front of some judge with a letter from his highness saying what you volunteered for, then pull out a letter saying you’ve already started counseling… well, how do you think that’ll look?”

The mare’s wings sag even more than they already were. The expression on her face is the same combination of defeat, defiance, and disappointment he would expect from a foal being told they’re grounded. The fact is driven home when she nearly whines out, “Do I have to?!”

“Private Ocean?” he calls, turning his attention to her son. “What’s the punishment from flying under the influence?”

“Uhh… I don’t know, sir,” he answers, wilting like he gave the wrong answer in front of the class.

“It’s up to three months in prison and a five hundred bit fine.”

She flops heavily on her side and cries out, “I don’t got no five hundred bits!”

“Which is why you want to take steps to show you’re genuinely remorseful before you face the courts,” Cure explains. “I’ll tell ya what. You ponder on that while I get started on fixing you up. How’s that sound?”

Her only response is a weak, pathetic nod.

Cure ignites his horn and pulls her along as he moves closer to his plant. He slides the cart right up beside it, drawing the mare’s attention to the flowery vines above her prone form. “So this will look weird. I’m going to basically force-feed your body nutrients. I’m gonna go right in through your neck, just above your chest, only a hoof or so in front of where your esophagus goes into your stomach.”

The mare’s gaze slowly drifts down to her chest, then back up to the colt. Uncomprehending, the mare simply asks, “Whut?”

“He’s going to put food right into your stomach, dam. Are you going to knock her out, sir?”

“Not unless she wants me to.” He turns back to the mare and explains, “You’ll still be able to talk and breathe normally, and it won’t hurt or anything. Would you prefer to be asleep?”

She immediately shakes her head no.

“Alright, just lay on your barrel. It’ll look weird, but it won’t hurt or anything, promise. Before I get started,” he pauses to lock her wheels in place, “I want you to take a second. Move your joints, twist and turn a little, maybe stand and stretch. Get a real good feel for how your body’s feeling, how sore you are, what all hurts. When I’m done patchin you up here in a few minutes, I want you to think back to right now and compare the two, okay?”

“Okay?” she answers with a questioning lilt, glancing uneasily between the alicorn and her son.

“You haven’t been taking care of your body for a long while now,” he explains, watching her move and stretch a little. “When I fix you all up I want you to be able to see the difference.”

“Get comfy and tell me when you’re ready. This’ll only take a few minutes. Funny thing is, I have another patient I plan on doing this to this weekend. Hadn’t thought to tie directly into his esophagus… was gonna cram the tube right down his throat,” he admits. He looks up to the mare with a smile and says, “Good thing I had a better idea, huh?”

“I don’t want nothin crammed down my throat!” she instantly agrees.

Cure reaches into his plant and pulls a quarter-hoof thick vine out of the thick foliage. He could have simply had it snake out on its own, but it occurred to him that he would then be controlling a tentacle plant reaching out to cram itself into a mare. Even avoiding the “classic” entrances, that’s a little too “hentai” for his liking.

More practically, it also means the thickness of the vine itself can be reduced since it doesn’t need to have nearly as much musculature added, and it makes the plant seem more like a tool rather than some kind of mare-grabbing wild creature.

He casts a weak Warming cantrip on the vine and nutrient supply, then places the end against her neck, just above where it meets her chest. Conscious of both ponies intently watching, he has the end open like a budding flower to hide the more upsetting parts. Her coat is removed by the inside of the tube and a large incision is made before it slithers its way into her esophagus and down to her lower esophageal sphincter, which he dilates to allow the intruder access.

“Alright. It’s in. I know you can feel something, but you’re not in any pain or discomfort, right?”

Still wary of speaking, the mare nearly imperceptibly shakes her head no.

“Okay. So you may feel some slight movement from the tube as it feeds you. You’re getting a nutrient drink, just thickened a little to provide more calories per liter than normal food. I’m giving you about ten days worth of food in half an hour, then I’m going to ramp up your digestion quite a bit. Normally that means you’d be crapping your brains out in a few hours, but that’s not going to happen here.”

Both ponies start laughing, slowly at first, then shaking bodily while laughing out loud. Cure isn’t sure if it’s from hearing a prince talking about taking a dump or from the absurdity of the situation, but figures it’s a good sign either way.

He continues despite their chuckling, explaining, “Almost every gram of food I put into you is going to go to use, so we’ll have you at a healthy weight and all patched up in no time, then we’ll talk more about that implant.”

“What’s wrong, son?” his sire asks, eyeing the unusually lethargic colt. “Yer lookin mighty worn today.”

Cure sets his fork aside, washes down the mouthful of bread, and reluctantly answers, “Had kind of a downer of a patient at the end of my hospital shift, pa. Sounds like she was doin alright, then her husband bit it in an accident. She hit the bottle hard, eventually drove off her wives. Son’s a reservist. He’s been trying to take care ‘a her.”

The moms all listen quietly as he continues, “He went out on patrol the other night, she hit the bars. Took off drunk, crashed, ended up in the ICU ‘till they fixed up what they could ‘n got her stable. Years of alcohol abuse, poor nutrition, etcetera. Basically killing herself slowly, ya know? Told her to pay real close attention to how she was feeling before, then fixed her up.”

“So… she’s all better?”

“Physically, she’s as healthy as a forty-three year old pegasus could possibly be. She bawled her eyes out for almost half an hour when I finished. Squeezed the life out of me for a moment, then clung to her son sobbing uncontrollably when he stepped in to pry her loose.”

Amethyst carefully points out, “Reckon she’ll be at tha bottom ’a ‘nother bottle ‘fore long. Was right kind ‘a ya, colt, but…” she trails off when he shakes his head no.

“I came so, so close to doing it without asking, but I was able to convince her to let me give her an implant. It’ll kick on after about a drink and a half, and she’ll be sicker’n a dog for ‘bout six hours. Told her the judge she faces may take it into account, whenever that happens.”

Title gives a half shrug while spooning Savvy a bite, saying, “Sounds like a good solution to me. Figured you woulda given her the same one we have so she can’t get drunk.”

“She’d just drink more,” Amethyst points out.

“Right,” he agrees. “It was just kinda draining, ya know? Felt bad that I almost didn’t ask, then had her in my office crying so long and hard the sergeant leaned in to check on us. They had to bring her water halfway through; she was literally crying herself dry. Made my afternoon drag a bit. Even Wind, of all ponies, said I looked tired.”

“There ain’t no shortage ‘a sad ponies out there, son. Ya still done good, though.”

“Thanks, pa. I’ll feel better after a nice relaxing shower.”

“Maybe after yer all cleaned up we can take a gander at the listings yer sire brought us,” Amethyst suggests.

“Sure thing, ma.”

“Finish your meal before you go taking off, honey. I’m sure you’re using a lot of energy every day.”

“I am, quite a fair amount, in fact. I’m going to have to find a way to take a bunch of extra…” he pauses, inclining his head in thought. “I need to go to Fillydelphia soon. Like, this week soon.” The parents share a look of confusion at the sudden apparent subject change. “I need to buy some more crystals. Higher grade ones Early won’t have. Also, I need to get ads running for my visit next month.”

“You’re not flying all the way to Fillydelphia by yourself,” his dam sternly insists. “One of us can go with you on the train on the weekend.”

“It can’t be this weekend. Solar’s leaving and I need to be here for his procedure.”

“Could go Saturday night,” Lemon suggests, “but I don’t know if the ponies you need to see at the newspaper will be in on Sunday.”

“Or if the stores will be open,” he points out.

“Next Friday, then,” Vines argues.

“How long does it take for an ad to show up in the paper?”

“A few days, maybe a week, dependin,” Deed answers.

“So the ad might not even run two weeks before I go up there. What if I just fly one of you up with me after work tomorrow? It’ll only take an hour or so.”

The question hangs in the air as each parent considers it.

“Not it,” Amethyst declares.

“You gotta get over the whole flying phobia, ma.”

Lotus nods energetically, insisting, “Flying is awesome! You can see the whole town, dam!”

“Mhmm!” her sister hums in agreement. “And Cure can go really fast and when he does loops and spirals it’s super fun!”

None of the parents seem particularly pleased to hear that tidbit. Amethyst and Vines, especially, give him looks that leave him wincing.

“You, uh, weren’t supposed to tell them that,” he quietly chides.

The cream filly’s ears pin back when she notices the unhappy stares. “Oops.”

“Their suits had Slow Fall in them. They were perfectly safe. Promise!”

“No more stunts with your sisters!” Vines declares.

“Okay! Fine.”

“I can come home a little early and go with you,” Title volunteers. “How are you going to fly us there, though?”

“However you want. Easiest would be with the Butterfly Wing spell, but I could make a cab from my plant for you to sit in easily enough.”

She hums and tilts her head side to side in consideration for a few seconds. “I’d rather have you fly me if that’s okay. Going all the way to Filly doesn’t exactly feel like a good first flight.”

“Fair enough.”

“Won’t that look weird?” Lemon asks. “You know, a pegasus colt pulling a cab with an adult earth pony in it?”

“I’ll use invisibility like I do for work. It’ll be fully enclosed, ma, so you don’t even need to worry about the wind. You can just sit back and enjoy the view.”

“That sounds fine to me, babe. I’ll come by the shop around after lunch, okay?”

Cure smiles brightly and bobs his head. “Awesome! I’ll get the cart ready tonight, then tomorrow I’ll knock my afternoon appointments out ASAP.”

“Got a question, son.” Cure cocks a brow at this sire. “How much do ya reckon you could carry like that?” The question draws a sharp, warning glare from the pink mare. Deed feels the heat but doesn’t acknowledge it at all. “Now, I ain’t sayin yer not strong or nothin, but the pull ‘a the world is a right powerful force when it grabs onto yer ma.” A wad of smashed together bread bounces off the left side of the stallion’s head as he continues, “I’m just worried fer her safety’s all, like a good husband oughta.”

With three mares quietly snickering and two fillies giggling along, even if they don’t quite get the joke, Cure nods in acknowledgement at his sire’s concerned questioning. “That’s a pretty good point, pa. I bet I can rig up some buoys runnin the length ‘a of the cart with helium in ‘em. It won’t make a huge difference, but every little bit helps.”

“Ya both think yer real funny, donchya?”

“Right good thinkin, son. I reckon an adult alicorn oughta be able ta pull ‘er, but ‘till yer at least as big as the princess…” hoof on his chin, he regards the pink mare analytically, “well… I dunno.”

“You know what,” she growls, “maybe you’re right. You might not be able to carry me. Maybe it’d be best if we do wait a week and half and took the train.”

“No, no! I’m sure a slim, delicate mare such as yourself will be no problem, ma,” he assures her.

“Uh huh. That’s what I thought.”

“I wouldn’t mind trying that some day,” Lemon comments. “Maybe not the loops, but just a ride around the city? It sounds neat.”

“Whenever ya want, ma.”

“Sounds interestin ta me too, son,” his sire seconds. “Maybe if you can get yer ma up ta Filly ‘n back you can give yer ‘ol pa a…” he pauses, mouth hanging partially open before clicking shut. “Wait, that don’t sound right.”

“Glad you caught that one. Sure, assuming flying mom around works as well as I expect it to there’s no reason I can’t take anypony else.” He motions to Savvy with his snout and asks, “You bringin her with us?”

“We’ll watch her,” Vines insists before Title can answer. “It’ll be easier that way.”

“Thanks, babe. Probably a good idea.” She turns to Cure and asks, “If we’re going there tomorrow then we need to figure out where you’re planning on setting up shop. I haven’t heard you say anything about it.”

“Uhh… gotta admit, I hadn’t figured that part out yet.” He looks to his other two moms and says, “You lived there. Where do all the rich ponies and the well-to-do dragons go shopping on the weekend?”

“The Writing House Market,” Lemon answers. “It’s just a bit southwest of City Hall, so not too far from Dragon Town. They have vendors there every weekend. Arts, crafts, performers, you name it. You’ll need to stop at their offices on Walnut Street first to make sure you can get a good spot.”

“We’ll need to go there first then, babe,” his mom points out. “They'll need your location on the ad, after all. That and your hours.”

“I’ll be there all day as long as I stay busy. I plan on coming home after Junior Guard training and flying straight there. I’ll only be coming back to pick you,” he motions with his snout to Amethyst, “and a big heap’a extra biomass up before we head on up there.”

“Woah, woah,” Amethyst calls out, waving her hooves frantically. “We’re flying up there? In the dark?!”

“Uh… yeah? Would you rather go with the security ponies the night before?” The purple mare hesitates, weighing her options. “How’s this sound: I’ll put together a carriage full of mass on Friday just like I did when we moved, then I’ll come back, teleport you directly into it while still asleep, fly up there, and wake you up when we’re back on the ground? I can do the same thing for the trip home.”

“Mmm… can’t say I’m wild ‘bout the idea. Suppose it’s better ‘n bein awake for it.”

“You won’t know a thing’s happened, ma. You’ll go to sleep snuggled with everypony like normal, then wake up warm and comfy in Fillydelphia. You may want to set aside some books or whatnot, though. It’s gonna be a boring day if you’re just hangin around the market with me the whole time.”

“Not a bad idea," she agrees. "I oughta go drop in on yer folks,” she suggests, meeting her first wife's eyes. “Have ‘em come by ‘n visit, see the colt while we're there.”

Lemon lights up at the suggestion. “Sounds great! Assuming you don’t mind them comin by,” she inquires, looking to Cure.

“Sure,” he agrees. “If they’re up for it, they can be my demonstration ponies. May help with the skeptics, which I’m sure there’ll be at least a few of.”

“Sounds good to me. I’ll send them a letter so they know what to expect.”

“Write it up tonight,” Title tells her. “We’ll drop it in the mail when we’re there tomorrow.”

“You know, you could always come with us when I go up there,” Cure offers. He pans his gaze around the room and says, “All of you, if you want. I could load you all up, don my full-sized alicorn outfit, add a couple functional wings to the carriage itself, and take you all up there for the day. Y’all can go see the sights while I make the moolah.”

The idea gives them pause as each considers it.

“My parents would be thrilled to see the girls,” Lemon points out.

“And everypony else,” Amethyst adds.

“We could take turns keepin an eye on tha colt,” his sire suggests.

Cure huffs and rolls his eyes. “I’ll have grandpa’s squad watchin out for trouble. If I need one of ya to come rushin back I can Send ya a message.”

Lemon voices her agreement, reminding them, “The Market is right in the middle of the city and they’re only a little north of City Hall, so that would work.” A grin crosses her muzzle in eager anticipation. “I can’t wait for you to meet my folks! Just one thing.” She gives Deed a pleading look, “I’ll warn ya right now… Watch out for my little sister. She can be a bit much.”

Somehow, Amethyst’s deep chuckle doesn’t reassure the stallion.

Author's Note

First, an announcement. I've had to have a lot of folks in & out of my house over the last week for fixes and whatnot, so I've gotten very little writing done. Seems like every time I get started I get pulled away, which completely derails the brain train. As a result, there may not be a chapter next week unless I can get some freaking peace. I'll pop in and leave a comment one way or another.

Also, the SFW is in the chapter title because of the suggestive title. With most of the chapter either being Cure being with his dam, at work, or at the dinner table, this is actually one of the more tame chapters, even as far as profanity is concerned. Of course, if you're reading a M-rated story on a work computer then you're gonna eventually have a bad day. Don't do that.

That aside, not a whole lot to comment on in the chapter. Someone either accidentally or intentionally makes a power play against the new prince. Cure, at his sergeant's suggestion, is going to respond in kind. We get to see him treat a couple ponies; a filly a few years his senior and a mare with an alcohol problem. He briefly entertained the idea of acting unilaterally with the latter, but with his slip-up over the weekend, not to mention his dam's reminder of it, he very quickly dismissed the idea. I felt it way, way out of character to have him do so, even if it would have led to a delicious helping of drama soup. In fact, I had to rewrite about a quarter of the chapter after scrapping the idea. Drama is fine, but forced drama just for the sake of it? Pass. I don't want like forcing characters to behave stupid or OOC just to stir shit up.

We'll get a quick jaunt up to Filly in the next chapter, then Cure has Court on Friday and Saturday is Solar's farewell for quite a while. It wasn't intentional at all, but this will end up being a very busy week for him.

As always, a big thanks to everyone that takes the time to rate and leave comments (especially the latter). Enjoy!

Chapter 114: Whores, Horse Shows, and Hounds

Wednesday, September 9th, 909 AB (later that evening)
Just after sunset

The constant flow of customers visiting Madame Adiah meant that Cure, for a second day in a row, could not spare a moment to disconnect from his portal network to join Celestia for the evening’s ritual. While that would normally be a source of some disappointment for the young alicorn, he considered it lucky happenstance when, around the same time, he made note of a couple ponies who seemed to be canvassing the area around his zebra body’s wagon.

Nothing in particular stood out about the pair of unicorns at first glance, but Cure mentally changed their labels from “Curious, but too shy to approach” to “Might be up to something” when he noticed them pass by a second time. While a fertility clinic draws no shortage of stares, most of them were focused on the wares, the signage, or the apparently zebra shaman herself. These two, on the other forehoof, were paying much more attention to her wagon and the layout of the surrounding area.

As nearly anypony else would, they paid no mind to the blackbird that suddenly began flitting from tree to tree while following their every move. The stallion and mare paused a little ways up the path and stepped out of the way of the steadily lessening press of ponies still meandering about. He watched as the mare broke away to head east, then left the path venturing south walking between the rows of tents and other stalls. She continued until passing Adiah’s wagon, then turned away again to the east to return to the path, looping around to the north and west again to rejoin her companion.

“Anything?” he leans down to whisper in her ear.

“No,” she replies with a shake of her head. “Either the walls are too thick or, more likely, enchanted. I couldn’t get anything from the inside at all.”

He grunts in understanding, standing by and watching from almost out of sight for a moment. “I suppose we’ll have to pay to get a better look.”

The mare snickers quietly and reaches over, patting him consolingly on his hip. “Maybe you should get the ‘deluxe upgrade.' I’ve heard it’s quite popular.”

The stallion slaps her hoof away with a huff. “Please,” he scoffs, “I make earth ponies jealous.”

“Uh huh,” she mumbles in faux agreement. “Either way we’ll get it all back later. Might as well get something useful.”

“Maybe you should get that gaping chasm of yours tightened up some, then,” he snarks back at her. “Celestia knows you could use the help finding a stallion.”

“Fuck you,” she quietly spits back. She only spends a moment deciding how to proceed before finally giving in.

With an almost resigned look the pair make their way back to her wagon and look around at her wares, moving to within range of her hearing. With the zebra herself inside her wagon helping customers, they are momentarily at a loss trying to figure out what they’re supposed to do. A helpful pegasus mare soon notices their confusion and, with an outstretched wing, points to a sign hanging by the zebra’s front door.

How to receive assistance if Madame Adiah is occupied:

For ritual services, please see the sign-up booklet on the table.

Find your desired time/date and tear out the page, then write your name and (optionally) indicate a requested service on one half. Put that half in the drop box by the door and keep the other as a reminder for your appointment.

Note that all customers must be adults or accompanied by a parent with proper documentation required.

To make a purchase of any products on display, simply insert the correct payment in the slot underneath the item you desire. Your purchase will automatically unstick from the shelf upon payment.

Change will dispense in the tray to your right.

Thank you!

The stallion stares at the sign for a long moment, his lips sounding out each of the last few sentences one word a time. Finally his eyes drifted over to the shelves and he locked eyes on an inexpensive item; a single capsule wrapped in cellophane with a cardboard backing. “Stallion flavor changer?” he woodenly reads aloud. “For the ladies who appreciate something sweet, dissolve this on your tongue before enjoying his treat.”

A barked laugh escapes him and he turns back to the mare. “You in the mood for ‘something sweet’ tonight? She has vanilla, strawberry, chocolate, and butterscotch here.”

The look of confusion fades as she steps forward to read the description, soon replaced with utter disgust. “You wish.” She looks over the collection for use on females curiously for a few seconds. “I wonder how these work.”

“Must do something to your tongue,” he offers with a shrug. “I’m more curious about how the whole setup knows you’ve paid the right amount. Also, what’s keeping somepony from just… you know,” he wonders, lighting his horn. He tries lifting a packet off the shelf and finds it firmly adhered in place. “Weird. I don’t feel any enchantment holding it in place. You could probably Teleport the capsule out, but for three bits, why risk it?”

Curiosity well piqued, the stallion pulls a five bit coin out and drops it into the slot. The previously fixed in place packet easily lifts up and two smaller coins clink down in the tray to the side. He places his purchase and the change in his bag with a thoughtful “Huh.”

“That’s nice and all,” his partner interrupts, “but we’re here for a reason.”

“Sure, sure,” he agrees, turning to the book on a small fold-out table by the door. “When’s the next open appointment?”

The mare hums as she opens the book, finding quite a few pages already torn out. “Tomorrow afternoon at three? It looks like the rest of the evening is pretty well booked.”

“That’ll work,” he agrees. “And I don’t need to tell you not to put your real name, do I?”

The mare pauses her writing, hastily scribbling over what she had already put. “No,” she unconvincingly lies. “Who would be that dumb?”

Thursday, September 11th, 909 AB (the next morning)
Breakfast

Cure is surprised to find two ponies waiting for him and his mother upon their arrival at the breakfast table. Seated on Celestia’s right, Lt. Spear and Cpt. Shield rise as the pair enter and begin heading to their seats.

“Well paint me green and call me a pickle! If it ain’t two of mah most fave-oh-raight Canterlot officers! And just when I thought maybe you were tryin to avoid me! To what do we owe the honor of the esteemed Captain Stalwart Shield’s presence on this magnificent Thursday morning?”

She doesn’t actually sigh out loud, but from the way her posture sags it is completely unnecessary anyhow. “Just some minor security issues,” she replies, facing forward instead of at him. “Nothing his highness needs to concern himself with.”

“Oh come on now,” he gently chides, blatantly rolling his eyes, “there’s no need for all that formality, captain.” He hops up on his cushion with Amethyst joining on his left, insisting, “It’s just me! The same ‘lil ‘ol Cure Wave you grew to love before all’a this,” he says, motioning up to his crown. “Now go on and make yerselves comfy. No need standin all formal-like on my account.”

They both retake their seats while the colt’s mischievous smile never leaves his face as he leans heavily on the table. Servants rush out only a second later setting a whole spread of breakfast foods out for their selection.

“So,” he begins in an overly chipper tone, “you know security is very important to me. Especially if it might concern my dear mother, over here.” Cure leans to his left and briefly wraps a wing over her back, squeezing her in a tight hug before letting go. “Why, I don’t think I could live with myself if I allowed my vigilance to waver and let such a delicate flower come to harm.”

“Delicate flower,” the mare in question snorts in a very unladylike way. “That’s me alright.”

“Really… Cure,” he smiles even wider and nods to show his approval, “it has nothing to do with,” she pauses turns to his mom, raising her brow in question.

“Amy’s fine,” Amethyst insists.

Shield nods in acceptance. “Amy, then. We received a report about some goings-on at the competition.” He somehow perks up even more and both ears swivel to focus fully on her. Too late she rushes to assure, “Not the competition itself! It concerns one of the vendors, that’s all.”

“Oh?” His tail swishes eagerly behind him. “What vendor might that be, hmmmm?”

The mare blows out a long suffering sigh and turns to look at the princess.

Cure does the same, brows hiked nearly into his mane. The look alone more than adequately conveys his annoyance at not having his question answered.

“It is alright, captain. There is no need to exclude Cure from such briefings. You are free to share the details with him as well.”

She blinks a couple of times in surprise. “Yes, ma’am,” she reluctantly agrees. She heaves another deep sigh and explains, “We received a report from Staff Sergeant Redtail in Forest Heights. One of the vendors is making… well…”

“A lot of bits,” Lt. Spear supplies when she pauses.

“A wagon full,” the captain agrees. “Not only that, but the services she’s selling have attracted a lot of attention.”

“What kinda services?” Amethyst interrupts.

“Nothing important,” Shield quickly responds.

“Seems important to me,” Cure argues. He playfully nudges his mom with his shoulder and suggests, “If she’s raking it in then maybe I’m in the wrong line of work.”

“It’s a clinic, of a sort,” the unicorn attempts to deflect.

“And that’s making her loads of dough?” he asks.

“Judging by her prices and the number of customers, yes. It is.”

“Why pay, though? You can go to the hospital for free. Or get an appointment with yours truly if it’s something really bad.”

“It’s not that kind of clinic,” the pegasus says.

“What kinda clinic is it, then?” Amethyst inquires in a tone nearly bursting with curiosity.

When both mares hesitate to answer, Celestia does so herself between gargantuan bites. “It is a fertility clinic. A zebra shaman is allegedly helping ponies have twins and promising to guarantee them colts instead of fillies. For a fee, of course.”

“Okay, yeah,” he nods in understanding, “I can see that. If I didn’t consider that a societal issue then I’m sure I could have made a fortune off of those colt trees. I wonder if somepony got wind that those were in testing and they’re now rushing to sell out of their stock.”

“If she’s trying to use up everything she has saved then that would explain how she’s able to see so many customers,” Spear agrees, bobbing her head. “It also implies there may be a leak somewhere in the medical labs.”

“No need to concern yourself there,” Celestia intervenes. “Director Storm already expressed such a concern, but I have received intelligence that gives me a clearer picture on the situation. The mare’s appearance at the event is not the result of any such leak.”

“That’s a relief,” Spear accepts, blowing out a held breath. “Thank you, your majesty.”

Resuming his line of questioning, Cure looks to the captain and asks, “Let me guess; she’s charging like a grand a pop or something? Depending on her supplies and how many ponies she can see a day that could definitely make her a mint.”

“No. As a matter of fact, her prices for that service are pretty low. Only twenty to thirty per pony.”

“Wait, I’m confused,” he begins. “You implied her prices were high.” Her face twists in an ugly frown at her contradiction being pointed out. “If she has a lot of customers then I could see her pulling in a decent haul, but nothin I would call a ‘wagon full.’”

“I reckon she’s makin the rest of them bits some other way, colt,” his mom suggests. “Probably sellin merchandise or other services, I bet.”

“Exactly!” Shield confirms, nodding eagerly in agreement.

“Well… like I said, I already gave the medicine to have a colt for free, even if it’s not ready for distribution yet. I could do the twins thing, too, but probably not with a plant,” he ponders aloud. “Maybe I can do the other things that she’s making a lot of money off of at the business I own. Tell me, captain,” he authoritatively commands, “if she’s not asking for much for those services, then exactly what is she making her fortune off of? I am assuming that’s in the report you received, correct?”

Amethyst and Celestia both turn to look at the mare, their expressions the very definition of wonder. Her beige coat darkens at the attention and she looks for help from her lieutenant to her right. The pegasus staunchly refuses to meet her eyes, focused solely on her bowl of barley and oats.

“It is,” she meekly affirms. “She… is offering a few other services that she seems to be asking a premium for. I do not believe they are appropriate to discuss at breakfast or - and I mean this with the utmost respect, your highness - with somepony as young as yourself.”

“Whaaaat?” he petulantly whines. “But if they’re something I can do in my private business then I need to know what they are!”

Both mares redden even further. The unicorn shakes her head in dismissal, insisting, “I am confident your parents would not approve of you offering these particular procedures.”

“Well now ya got me right curious, myself, captain,” Amethyst interjects. She turns and climbs off her cushion and, with a quiet, “Pardon” slips around behind the princess to lean closer to the mare.

Shield relents with a sigh, but not before casting a Sound Bubble to prevent Cure from overhearing. The colt stares on slack-jawed in mock offense, folding his forelegs over his chest to pout. After sharing the secret procedure they each erupt in a round of titters, all while being glared at by the younger alicorn.

When his mom finally returns to her seat he looks at her in silent question. She declines filling him in with a shake of her head, earning an even more exaggerated pout from the colt. “Fine!” he whines, biting a slice of toast clean in half. “Don’t tell me how I could be making loads more money. At least tell me what the security concern is.”

“It’s exactly as I said, sir. She is staying in her wagon overnight in the vendor area of the event grounds with, presumably, tens of if not hundreds of thousands of bits and no private security. Now, granted there’s a lot more guards in town than normal, and you would assume nopony would be brave enough to try something when there are, but you have to keep in mind that those guards are there for the event. They’re not ‘working’ as they normally would be, understand?”

“Yeah, of course. I’ve seen a few squads I’m assuming are from Canterlot helping with security, though.”

“Those are actually from Fort McMare, Cure,” Celestia gently corrects.

“Ah. That makes sense. I guess you normally use squads stationed at the forts to supplement local security?”

“We do. There are squads from Meadow filling in for the two teams from Baltimare as well. We cannot leave cities short-staffed for the competition, after all.”

“Gotchya. So, anyhow, this mare,” he begins, refocusing the conversation, “has anypony told her to deposit the money in the bank? If there’s nothing to steal then… well, I suppose they could try to foalnap her, but that would deter any simple thieves, right?”

“Apparently she is convinced she can take care of herself,” Spear explains. “She said something about not trusting Equestrian banks.”

Celestia shoots a look of annoyance at Cure that is missed by the pair.

“So then she’s not an Equestrian? Well, duh,” he says bonking himself playfully on the head. “You said she’s a zebra shaman, so she has to be Zebrican, then.”

“Presumably,” Shield says. “We belieive she’s from the same tribe that we’ve always bought healing tinctures from.”

Celestia pauses her eating and turns to the captain. “I am curious how you came to that conclusion.”

“Eh, not important,” Cure tries to deflect.

“Her name,” Shield answers. “The one she put on the vendor license. It’s Kahaba Matobo, your majesty.”

“You sure you don’t mean Kataba? Like… contract?” Cure meekly inquires. His mom’s snort of laughter doesn’t help the situation at all.

To his dismay, the captain reaches into her chestplate and unfolds a familiar looking form, looking over it before reading aloud. “Kahaba. Says so right here.”

“Ah, well, that looks like it was filled out by a clerk or something,” Cure insists. “Unless she was carrying a typewriter with her, somepony must have slipped up and hit H instead of T. So anyhow -”

“According to Mrs. Folded Page, the mare filled the form out with her magic while in Mrs. Page’s office,” Shield interrupts. “Apparently the name she’s operating under, Madame Adiah, is some kind of stage name or alias.” She pauses a moment and shrugs, “Or maybe Kahaba is. The Zebricans apparently don’t know anything about her, which is strange.”

“You… asked the zebras about her?” Cure asks, suddenly feeling a bit of heat coming from his right. He does his best not to look at the princess, keeping his eyes firmly on the unicorn across from him.

“No. After yesterday’s article in the Herald they reached out to me. I have a good rapport with Major Faheem. We keep an open line of communication in case something comes up like last week’s incident. They don’t know anything about her, but they expressed concerns that she may be a fraud. It was kind of strange; when I said her real name they seemed to recognize it.” She chuckles and shakes her head, adding, “They suggested that she may be an earth pony, given her unusual stature. Apparently she’s quite a bit taller and more muscular than a zebra, especially compared to most of their shamans.”

“Ah.” Cure spares a brief second to look at his still chuckling mom, shooting her a scowl and jabbing her sides with a fetlock.

“Regardless, some of the treatments she’s offering have been confirmed to be effective -”

“Very effective from what I’ve seen,” Spear quietly adds, then flushes even darker than normal when the three mares all look inquisitively at her.

Shield only pauses a moment before continuing, “- and, apparently, persistent, so we’re working under the assumption that she is legitimate. Perhaps she’s some kind of hermit or maybe the Matobo tribe simply failed to alert the embassy about her assignment. Given how poorly the Zebrican tribes communicate with each other it wouldn’t surprise me overmuch.”

“A somewhat unorthodox suggestion, if I may,” Celestia begins. “While I do not doubt the measures we already have in place are sufficient, it is only reasonable and prudent that she take extra precautions to deter anypony from getting ideas.”

She looks back to Shield and commands, “Ask that Sgt. Redtail explains our concerns to this Madame Adiah. We know some private security firms that would be willing to help her keep an eye out, many of whom have retired or former guards on their payroll. We can even make the arrangements for them to send a team later today. She need only cover the cost; a pittance compared to what she is supposedly earning. I believe that should mitigate the risk from the added attention without the guard being forced to overextend.” She pans back to the colt and leans slightly forward. “What are your thoughts, Cure?”

“I think that’s a fantastic idea, princess!” he immediately replies, fighting to keep his ears from pinning back. “In fact, I’ve already arranged for extra security for my Fillydelphia trip later this month.”

“I am glad to hear it. If you believe your trip warrants extra security, then I do not see why she should not have it as well. I am sure she will agree and understand.”

“No doubt!” he easily agrees. “I dare say she should be grateful for the suggestion, even!”

She hums in agreement while taking a sip of her tea. “Yes. I am sure she will be.”

“Welp,” Cure sighs, scooping the last bite of food into his mouth, “we’d better get going if we don’t want to be late, ma. You ready?”

“Sure thing, colt,” she says, knocking back the last of her coffee.

Amethyst slides off her cushion as Cure hops down from his raised bench. “I’ll see ya later, princess. Have a good one!”

“You as well, Cure. Have fun.”

“You bet. Oh, and by the way, captain,” he calls, pausing just before he heads out the door, “I can read lips. See ya!”

The flight to the event began in silence with Amethyst, as has been her typical move, laying atop the colt with her forelegs hugged to his sides underneath his wings. Of course, she only waited until the flight (and her stomach) leveled out to ask exactly what the big deal about the mare’s name was and why he tried to pretend not to have been responsible.

As amusing as his answer was, she couldn’t help but ask, “So you put ‘Matobo Whore’ as your name on an official document? How could you possibly think that would not get found eventually?”

“I’unno,” he shrugs his wings against her chest. “I kinda thought maybe the zebras would get wind of it somehow. Honestly, I half expected a group of them to show up sometime overnight to rob me or interrogate me or something.”

“Look, honey, I know the zebras are on yer shit list, but you gotta stop pokin them every chance ya get. They may not be able to do nothin to you yerself, but I ain’t tryin to have some zebra assassins comin in tha middle ‘a the night while yer off in Canterlot or wherever.”

“They wouldn’t freaking dare!” he hisses through clenched teeth.

“You don’t know that. Stupid ponies do stupid shit all’a tha time, colt. ‘Sides, yer all about tryin ta hide what all ya can do. How can ya expect ‘em to know not ta cross ya if yer not willin ta show off some of yer abilities, hmm?”

“It’s common freakin sense, ma! I am an alicorn,” he flatly insists. “Unless they have some magic MacGuffin like that stupid fucking staff then their only options is to pray they don’t piss me off enough for me to get off my ass and come over there to wreck their shit. What could they possibly do to stop somepony like Celestia if she decided to bake their leaders from a continent away?”

“And that ain’t somethin she’s told ‘em she can do, neither. Them knowin they’re survivin only on yer good graces ain’t gonna make ‘em compliant, colt. It’ll just make em desperate.” She nuzzles against the inside of his ear and asks, “What do desperate ponies do?”

Sighting, he rests his chin on her forelegs and nods in acceptance. “Whatever they can.”

“Exactly. They lash out. Cornered rat ‘n all that. They ain’t gonna learn not ta piss ya off ‘till they already done did exactly that, and I ain’t fixin ta learn how ya react when somepony’s pushed ya too far. And I know damn well ya don’t want anypony gettin hurt ‘cause’a yer ego. Yer gonna have a long time to hafta live with that guilt, Cure.”

Her words almost drain the energy out of the colt entirely, putting an end to any argument he could possibly muster. He once again nods against her leg, brushing his cheek and muzzle against her coat. “True. I’ll be good from now on, momma.”

“Good.”

“If they do something stupid, though…”

She gives him a good squeeze and finishes his sentence. “Then ya deal with the ones what done it, and make sure they all know not ta do it again.”

“As usual, earth pony’s get the short end of the stick,” Cure quietly grumbles.

Amethyst rolls her eyes and motions to the field with her right forehoof, asking, “Well what exactly do you expect them to do?”

“I dunno,” he grumbles under his breath, “but that course looks like something you’d have a trained dog run through, not squads competing to show they’re the best in the nation.”

Amethyst cocks a brow at the colt, staring like he’s grown a second head. It briefly occurs to her that, technically, he does have a second head; one that is currently agreeing to pay for the privilege of having hired security to keep an eye on her wagon throughout the day. “If you can train a dog ta run through that,” she lifts her chin and motions at the field, “then I’d like ta see it.”

Cure takes another moment to look over the obstacle course and consider her proposal. She’s right, of course, and his suggestion that a dog could manage it is somewhat ridiculous. Taking up nearly three quarters of the stadium grounds, there is a passing resemblance to what Ed had seen trained hounds run while bored on the weekend and idly flipping through channels, but then somepony decided to take it beyond the next level.

Starting beyond the northwest end of the bleachers, the contestants have to sprint to the east for approximately a half kilometer across the front of the stands while clearing a few relatively easy hurdles. A wooden ramp allows them to maintain speed as they turn which straightens then arcs into an almost completely vertical climb for six meters with a large platform at the top. If somepony fails to make it in a sprint then there’s a spiraling set of stairs on the south side that will certainly cost them a fair amount of time, and a layer of clouds ensures nopony will suffer an injury if they fall with a unicorn on standby to catch anypony careening directly back.

The platform allows them to turn back to the west where a rope is waiting, allowing them to grab on and swing back down to the ground, landing in a fairly wide moat of water. From there they have to swim for a few dozen meters, climb out, turn to their right facing north, and dive under a set of horizontal posts set low to the ground before shuffling forwards.

Another beam is raised up the ground, this one barely more than a hoof’s width and surrounded by mud. Another turn, now facing east as they had at the start, has them zig-zagging through a series of vertical posts, then sprint the last remaining bit and pull off a loop-the-loop.

It never even occurred to Cure that it would be possible for a pony on the ground to actually run a vertical loop. He recalls from Ed’s memories that he saw where a Hot Wheels advertisement made it look like there was one on a real highway which resulted in, of course, quite a few ponderings about what speed it would take to pull off. From what he recalls, the result was possible, but not for most cars. Earth ponies’ ability to grab the ground certainly changes that to the point where they can pull it off fairly easily. Still, he has to wonder exactly what set of circumstances in real life will result in a guard having to execute a loop-the-loop in the line of duty.

“Fair. I guess it is better than the unicorn’s boring course,” he says, motioning off further to the southwest.

In order to test the unicorn members’ horn dexterity, a set of blunted darts are provided to each guard who has to keep them in motion around themselves to deflect balls launched at them from all sides, all the while firing one off at targets as they pop up.

“I guess I wouldn’t mind giving that a try eventually. It would probably be pretty embarrassing right now, though.”

“Yeah, they’re just standin there, mostly,” she agrees. “The pegasus test ain’t nothin special, neither,” she says, glancing up overhead.

The colt can’t help but disagree. Though it is just a series of rings not unlike the long distance flight on the first day, the numbered cloud rings are small and in a very tight box, forcing whoever is flying it to make very sharp turns and, occasionally, tuck their wings in to avoid breaking the ring.

“That’s a lot harder than you think it is, ma. If I couldn’t cheat and stop myself with my grabby aura I’m not sure I could do that. At least, not in any kind of reasonable time. That said, it would be pretty neat to try that one, too. Watch,” he instructs as the first pegasus takes off from the ground. “I’m guessing the clock starts when she hits the first ring.”

Under the watchful eyes of the judges, the mare from Tall Tale shoots through the first ring. She cuts hard to her right and pulls her wings tight to her side, ducking her head to shoot through number two before flaring them open and up, pulling her into a climb to hit three. Back arched and wings straining to hold the roll, she does a half loop and falls down through number four, her right side brushing the inside of the ring.

“That’ll cost her, I bet,” he comments as she pulls out of the dive, gracefully turning her body to the left to pass through three rings in an arc. Her right wing angles up and left does the opposite, twisting her in a spiral to hit another three rings in a row, though a few of her left primaries snag the last one. “Still, though… she’s good.”

“She’s amazing,” Specialist Spark quietly murmurs, staring fixedly at the mare’s form from below.

Cure can’t help but smirk at the normally quiet pegasus that makes the third member of his Canterlot Royal Guard team. Sgt. Trail leans over and gives him a rap with his hoof on the specialist’s shoulder. “Eyes on your surroundings, Spark,” he quietly chastises.

While the colt is sympathetic to his guard’s plight, he can’t find it in himself to disagree. He would be kind of ticked if something happened while his guards were distracted, and unlike Celestia, they do not know how actively he keeps an eye on his surroundings, nor could they possibly know how difficult it would be to actually hurt either him or his mother.

The mare continues on her course during their conversation, twisting and turning, flipping every which direction in a dizzying display of aerial prowess that nearly makes Cure’s wing itch with desire to go give it a try. Unfortunately, as much fun as it would be to run out there on the field, this is a military operation and not a place for foals, even royal ones, to play around.

As the mare wraps up her attempt and comes back in for a landing, Cure’s attention is briefly drawn to the unicorn that is trying her best to avoid getting hit. He soon realizes that it’s the very same mare that was defeated by Rush during her first bout the other day. While she is doing a good job of launching her darts at any targets that pop up, it’s obvious that she doesn’t have a lot of experience using her darts to intercept incoming attacks. More than a few balls have managed to get through her guard, smacking into her sides and flanks while she is distracted.

“I’m suddenly wondering how they keep that event fair,” he wonders aloud. “I mean, it’s not impossible that the ponies launching those balls could throw them faster or more frequently, or just time it so they’re throwing when the contestant is looking away.”

“That’s just part of the test, sir,” Sgt. Trail points out. “Unless somepony has a special talent for this then it will be pretty unusual to have a private do much better than she is. They only offer that training at higher ranks. All things considered, she’s doing pretty well given her rank and experience, though it looks like she’s getting a bit more frustrated with every passing hit.”

The sergeant’s observation is dead on; though his experience with hornwork is still rudimentary at best, it doesn’t take a horn at all to see her movements are getting increasingly sloppy as her annoyance seems to build. The darts she throws at targets are going faster and, for the ones at the edge of her targeting aura, are not hitting directly. The ones closer to her body are moving more erratically and failing to intercept more and more shots thrown her way, and she seems to have completely forgotten that she can move out of the way as long as she stays inside the two meter circle at the center of the arena.

“So what you’re saying is you could do a lot better, sarge?” Cure curiously asks.

The unicorn glances back over his withers with a look of absolute confidence. “I can assure his highness that he would be most thoroughly impressed by my performance.”

Cure smiles and hums in consideration. “Well, I’m glad to hear that, but hopefully we’ll never have to find out.”

It’s only a few minutes later when a very familiar earth pony takes his place at the starting line for their obstacle course. Staff Sergeant Bulwark makes his way to the line, his chest and sides bulging in rock hard muscle. His large, dark, powerful form gains the attention of nearly every mare in the stands as he takes off like a rocket down the straightaway to the curve.

Cure snickers quietly under his breath at the mares cooing and humming in appreciation. He rounds the curve going full speed with his body almost entirely horizontal, then shoots up the ramp in barely a split second, having to grab onto the top to not go flying into the air. Forelegs and teeth secured to the rope, he swoops down like a cannonball into the water, pushing off the bottom to break its surface.

With a running dive he clears nearly half of the horizontal beams before sliding the rest of the way without having to shuffle. The balance beam is almost his undoing as he starts to lose his balance towards the end, but with a powerful push of his hind legs he jumps the remaining few meters and lands, skidding to drift to a stop while facing the next part.

His performance on the zig-zag isn’t particularly remarkable, though he is able to get through it every bit as quickly as anypony else. A quick burst of speed kicks up a cloud of dirt as he shoots towards the end of the course so quickly that he’s nothing but a blur while going through the loop. He hits the finish line at full speed, all four hooves digging trails as he slides to a stop.

As the cloud of dirt clears it reveals the stallion, standing at ease having barely worked up a sweat. Dramatically pausing for only a moment, he basks in the cheers and applause from the crowd, dips his head in a shallow bow, and proudly trots off the field for the next contestant.

“Not bad, sarge,” Cure compliments. “Not bad at all.” A wild thought occurs to the colt; a way he can give it a go and get a good laugh at the same time. It only takes a moment to get ready. Shouts of alarm and surprise sound out from the crowd when a nearly pegasus-sized great dane bursts out from behind the bleachers and shoots past the earth pony awaiting her turn.

What’s even more amusing than the baffled event coordinators trying and failing to catch it is the that way it darts through the course. When the dog flies up the ramp and lands at the platform, the stallion responsible for securing the rope is caught so off guard that he doesn't move at all. Since nopony wants to smell a wet dog, it cheats a little and stays latched to the rope, letting go and doing a flip while soaring through the air to completely skip the waiting moat.

Being slightly shorter and more horizontal than a pony, it doesn’t have to slow in the least as it runs under the obstacles, nor does its balance falter a bit as it shoots across the balance beam. To the cheering claps of everypony in the stands, the mysterious canine zigs and zags right through the posts, seamlessly pulls off the loop, then launches itself in an impressive leap right over the waiting guards.

Laughter erupts from the crowd as the elusive dog slips through legs and expertly avoids telekinetic grips, running north towards the vendors and quickly disappearing from sight.

Laughing so hard she’s crying, Amethyst pounds on her cushion with a forehoof as she wipes her eyes with the other. “Yer nuts, colt!” she struggles not to shout. “I swear, wait till the princess hears about this!”

“I don’t know what you’re talkin about, ma,” he stalwartly insists. “After all, I’ve been sittin here all innocent-like the whole time. How could that possibly have been my fault?”

Author's Note

Alrighty, so... shorter chapter this week, but honestly... this might turn kind of into the norm if I'm able to get a chapter out every week at all. I wanted to be done with the whole Competition arc well before now, but it'll be at least another two weeks before I can wrap it up. Ah well, we'll get there, even if the pace is glacial.

As always, thanks of reading, rating, and especially commenting.

Enjoy, folks!

Chapter 121: Catching Up

Sunday, September 13th, 909 AB (the next day)
Shortly before sunrise

Thanks to his relatively sedate Saturday, Cure wakes up before anypony else begins to stir. Rather than move to get up, the colt instead lies still, happy to luxuriate in the press of bodies all around him. Ceding to the girls’ demands, he had done the same as the last sleepover, conjuring up a wider bed and creating clones of himself for them to snuggle with. His sisters were, once again, granted the honor of snuggling with his real body, but that didn’t stop the others from getting in on the action.

While they may not all be touching the original, they still managed to completely surround him, mostly sandwiching themselves between the original and their designated snuggle clone. Except Crosswind, that is. The filly somehow ended up sprawled supine directly across his back, spending the night in a u-shaped position that would probably even earn props from a cat.

Whether it be intentional or not, his real body is surrounded on all sides. His head - horn retracted - is cocked to the side pressed right up against Ferric’s withers, giving him an up close view of her lower back and little else in the room. A twist of her puppet's neck reveals her sister on its other side, snuggled on her right under its wing with her forelegs wrapped around its neck just under her sister’s. The larger filly’s right hind leg is lying across its lower back just above its tail.

He’s not really sure what to make of Sapphire’s position. Their relationship is not romantic in any way, even less than it is with the others given their age. He’s already at a loss as to how this will all work with five girls vying for his attention, and a sixth - especially one that’s slightly unhinged - doesn’t sound like a helpful addition for his sanity’s sake.

For now, he figures the best thing to do is to chalk up her cuddling as simply searching out a warm body in the night and nothing more. It’s not like that would be strange for a pony, after all, and she had directly said she wasn’t interested in anypony “like that” not even a couple months prior. Either way having his throat draped across her foreleg wouldn’t be comfortable if he were unable to mute the sensations he receives from his clone bodies.

The clone to his left certainly isn’t going anywhere, either. Laid halfway on its back and right side, it has Glacial cocooned tightly to its belly with its left side pressed against Dawn. His human sensibilities are all but screaming in protest at the position, but, once again, pony norms are completely different in the situation. Their contact is certainly not sexual in nature, nor was it intentional on his part.

That his clone’s crotch is pressing against her lower belly is, while perhaps a very familiar position, it is also considered completely natural according to society. What’s more, she must have rolled him off of his belly to snuggle on him like that since, barring a reflexive twitch, his puppets don’t move at all when he is sleeping.

Just as when he’d shown the princess his alicorn suit, Cure had considered making the clones genderless. He ultimately decided that he is probably the only pony on the planet that would spend so much time worrying about a set of wedding tackle. He should have just made the stupid suit anatomically correct and called it a day, just like he should have ignored his mother’s dumbass dare.

Sure a few very rude ponies may let their curiosity get the better of them and sneak a peek at an alicorn’s package, but that’s on them.

Instead of neutering his clones, he made the decision he should have from the get go: Stop thinking like a human. Nudity is the norm. Clothing is for special occasions. Quit focusing on something that literally no other pony on the planet would even consider at all.

The others are behind him in their own smaller pile of bodies. Dawn’s and Rising’s clones lie in the pony loaf position with their wings draped overtop the yellow filly and Delta Coast. The only other colt in the group is wedged between the two girls on his back, happily snoozing away with their tails keeping his ears warm and his snout poking up into the air.

The colt knows he’ll eventually miss having everypony in a single bed, all cozied up and sharing their warmth like this. He plans on coming home as often as he can while attending Celestia’s school, but he’ll still be sleeping in a bed by himself at least five days a week while attending. What’s more, he’ll be stuck sharing a room with at least a few other colts during the week; a proposition he’s not exactly looking forward to. Harmony only knows what kind of ponies he could end up stuck with.

Either way, it means he had better make the most of what time he does have, and there’s no better way to show he cares than by spoiling the fillies a little.

Deciding who is the lucky lady to get his undivided attention first isn’t terribly difficult. Cherry and Lotus would normally be the obvious picks, but they’re a couple of ‘ol lazybones and don’t normally get up until at least eight o’clock. No, the only filly that’s consistently up and getting ready before the sun is Ferric, and as luck would have it, she’s also the one he’s done the least for.

The pegasi are raking in the bits with their outfit sales. Dawn, aside from her literally priceless horn upgrade, has similarly accumulated a decent chunk of change in her bank account thanks to him setting her up to sell enchantments. The other earth ponies - even the three he isn’t the coltfriend of - all turn a tidy profit off of the plushie sales he has them managing.

All that means that Ferric is long overdue for some good, old fashioned pampering the likes of which she’s probably never experienced. Fortunately, clone number five is free and clear, and is laying off to his right where Crosswind must have abandoned it at some point in the night.

Cure shifts his perspective, fully rousing the clone to wakefulness and taking conscious control of its motor functions. A few blinks and wiggle tests of its extremities confirms that he’s moving the right one, and in only a moment he has adjusted his awareness to fully mentally occupy it.

Step number one, as with any other time wakefulness is first achieved, is to complete a full-body stretch. Back muscles tense, raising his wings up and unfurling them to full extension as his legs, both fore and back, reach out as far as possible and his neck arches back, then rolls in a wide circle. With his hindquarters still flat on the bed, the colt pulls his front half to the left until a satisfying, but muted, series of pops fill the room.

Cringing at the noise, he looks over the otherwise silent room and is relieved to see none of the other foals stirring. A horn slowly grows out of his forehead; the bony protrusion taking longer than usual due to his clones not normally having one at all.

Casting focus prepared, he erects a Sound Bubble surrounding the clone body and finishes his vigorous round of joint popping. It’s a wholly unnecessary act; he could soundlessly allow the microscopic air bubbles within the clone’s joints to release, but something about that crunchy popping sound and the brief feeling of release is just too euphoric to pass up.

His own needs adequately seen to, Cure spreads his wings and pushes against the air, gently lifting himself off the bed for a better view. Extracting the filly without waking anypony else won’t be too tricky, but he would prefer not to wake her until he has her in position.

The first step is to scoot his real body back a few millimeters to give himself a little room. That’s accomplished easily enough simply by pushing off the bed and sliding backwards the slightest amount, all the while being careful not to disturb his sisters sheltering under his wings or the purple feline sprawled out over his back.

Next, he shifts his focus to the puppet sandwiched between the two sisters, noting how the two are resting their forehooves on the other’s shoulders, hugging his neck between themselves. It’s a damn adorable sight and he almost feels bad ruining it by extricating the elder. Comforting himself with the fact that they’ll all be waking up in the next half hour or so anyhow, he eases her forelegs off his neck while lifting her hind leg.

The filly instantly begins to stir and, realizing that he can’t possibly move her enough without waking her, the colt finally gives up and decides to cheat. He doesn’t like that he has to use his talent on her, but it will only be for a moment to keep her sleeping while he gets her out of the pile. All things considered, he’s confident she’ll forgive the slight abuse of his ability given his reasoning. It’s a bit of a slippery slope, he knows, but his eagerness to surprise the girl may just be overriding his good sense.

With slightly less care than he had started with, he frees her forelegs then encases the filly in a tight bubble of magic, lifting her up and out of the pile. He doesn’t take her far; merely to the foot of the double-sized bed where he conjures up a short, paddled table similar in appearance to the one he’d been placed on during his grooming session in the capital. The biggest difference is that this table is made of living vines, padded plant material, a soft, mossy surface and, most importantly, produces its own body heat.

Cure briefly amuses himself with the notion that he is placing a dark red filly - a virgin, no less - on what is, essentially, an altar of blood-filled tentacles. One that has been created by, arguably, an outside entity that may technically be considered a form of low level divinity.

The scenario, in a different context, would no doubt elicit a different response from anypony that happened to walk in unprepared.

Dismissing the thought as slightly humorous but also extremely disturbing, Cure gets to work growing his clone’s size to roughly that of a teenager and changing its forehooves into hands. The greater height will help him more easily reach the filly without having to climb atop her larger frame and straddle her. Another flex of his talent has a collection of brushes, combs, and files in varying coarseness separating from the side of the table.

Earth ponies, he is very much aware, will all but melt into a puddle of bliss if their hooves are taken care of correctly. That’s not something you just go full speed on right away, though. Especially with somepony who is still sleeping. No… he knows better than to hit those right off the bat. Starting with a still pleasurable, but less intense warmup is what this situation calls for.

Sound Bubble still in place, Cure sits on his haunches and cups the filly’s head with his hands, brushing his thumbs down the sides of her muzzle back to her jaw, then tracing a line up her snout and between her eyes. After a few passes he focuses on her brow and ears, softly kneading the skin and rubbing in circular motions at their bases.

As she begins to stir, he leans in close, tiling his head to the left and nuzzles the top of her snout with his cheek, softly murmuring, “Good morning, my sweet, strong, soft spoken smith,” in a voice much deeper than his typical juvenile one.

The filly’s eyes fly open and tail snaps flat against her rear, the rest of her remaining otherwise frozen in place from the unfamiliar tone and sensations.

“Don’t worry, beautiful,” he quickly reassures, leaning back while he barely illuminates his horn in a dim glow. “It’s just me.”

“Cure?” she whispers, relief coursing through her veins. “What are you…” she begins, trailing off as his fingers begin dancing in circles along her jaw and upper neck.

“Just showing my lovely ladies how much I missed them while I was away. I spent two weeks getting treated like royalty in Canterlot.” Snout scrunched, he adds, “Mostly. There were a few moments here and there. But either way,” he continues, trailing his nailless finger tips up and down the side of her neck, “sharing is caring, so I figure the least I can do is do the same thing for my fillyfriends on their last day of freedom.”

“Oh…” she trails off, drawing in a deep breath. She moans in delight when the colt starts really working his thumbs into the stronger muscles running up and down the sides of her neck. “This is nice,” she all but coos, leaning harder against one hand, then the other.

“Good. Now you just sit there and relax and let me spoil you for a bit. A quick massage, a hooficure,” he leans down and pinches the front edge of her left ear between his teeth, adding, “and then we’ll see about making sure that. Dark. Beautiful. Coat of yours is the envy of the other girls when you trot into the schoolroom. A nice grooming and a good oil brushin and you’ll be the shiniest Shine that ever shined. And I seem to run into a lot of Shines, so that’s a pretty high bar to clear.”

The heat radiating off the sweet girl’s face almost rivals Celestia during their final sparring match. As much as he finds the shy filly’s embarrassment adorable, he is ultimately on a relatively tight timeline. He scoots forward close enough to let her rest her head against him as he continues massaging her neck, ears, and face.

The young alicorn can’t help but smile at the way she leans heavily against him, firmly grinding her head against the larger flight muscles of his chest. Just like many of the fillies he’d danced with, she even turns her head to her side to press her cheeks against the well defined wall of muscle.

“Cure,” she breathily moans, grinding her brow into his chest. “I need…” she says, mumbling something under her breath that he couldn’t quite catch.

“Hmm?”

“I gotta -”

“My dear Red,” he rumbles, interrupting her whispering, “I need you to speak up. Don’t worry. The others can’t hear -”

“Pee!” she shouts, ears folded flat against her head.

The colt freezes on the spot when realization dawns on him. It’s been a while since he had to jump out of bed and rush to the potty, so it kind of slipped his mind that most ponies aren’t able to cheat their way out of that particular daily routine. He knows he could solve the problem for the filly, but she might literally die of mortification if he were to even suggest it. That, and outside of some specific health care scenarios, there’s not really a good way to ask if somepony wants you to help them go pee.

“... Oh!” Slowly withdrawing his hands from her withers. “Well… my bad,” he demures, shifting to give her more room. Head bowed, he motions to the door, lighting his horn to pull it open. “By all means, then, be my guest.”

Ears and tail pinned tightly, the bashful girl all but launches herself off of the table, darting out of the room. While she is gone, Cure frees the puppet snuggled against Delta Coast’s side, altering its colors and body shape, retracting its wings, and giving it a horn before Teleporting it out of the room so it can head to the bakery to fetch a whole heaping load of breakfast for everypony.

Another vine descends through the ceiling of the kitchen and starts getting coffee ready and setting the table. As the coffee maker starts brewing up a pot, the vine pulls a few empty pitchers from the cabinets and sets them out on the counter. A hole opens up at the end of it and it begins extruding a variety of juices, filling each other before hitting them with a Cooling cantrip and leaving them in the refrigerator.

Sensing Ferric as she makes her way back to the bedroom, Cure retracts the kitchen appendage and divides his focus between the unicorn puppet cantering through town on his way to fetch some pastries and the teenage alicorn awaiting her return. Initially hesitant to hop back on the table, she gives in after a moment and climbs up, turning to face him before lying down.

Her scent and body language betray her nervousness, though, so before he gets started he lays down in front of her, putting the two of them at roughly the same height. “What’s wrong, Red? What’s got ya all worried?”

The filly’s blush reignites and she stammers trying to give an answer. He waits patiently while she fidgets, glancing back and forth between him and the other foals all still sound asleep. Finally, she draws a breath and softly answers, “I don’t know. It’s just so… you know.”

“A little too familiar for you? Too intimate, maybe?” he guesses.

She nods in a quick, jerky motion betraying her unease.

“I understand,” he emphatically agrees. He lightly waves a wing in dismissal and, In a conversational tone, explains, “But don’t take it as some kind of romantic overture if that makes you uncomfortable. I’m just doing the same thing for you all that the servants did at the palace. Like I said, this is what they did every day when I woke up. Me and Amy, both.”

After a brief pause he adds, “Sort of, that is. We didn’t get a massage every morning, but they bathed us,” he pauses, casting a Cleaning spell on her, “which I’ll agree, was a little bit odd the first few times, but still felt pretty great.” Resuming his massage, he continues, “Once we were scrubbed from snout to tail, they would brush us and do our manes, comb out our tails, maybe give us a tiny touch-up trim to make sure our coats didn’t come down over our hooves, blah blah blah, etcetera, etcetera.” The end of the explanation is punctuated with him lazily flopping his hand back and forth in the air.

“If you want me to stop then just say so,” he finally insists. “Making you feel weird is pretty much the opposite of what I’m goin for here. Or, if it would help, I could do one of the others first.”

Worrying her lip, she looks over the other foals in consideration. A small smirk creeps across her lips that vanishes just as quickly as it came. The scent of anxiety fades and her normal one replaces it as she points her hoof towards the de-Cured pile. “Do Heavy,” she insists, unable to keep the amusement out of her voice.

Cure can’t keep the cringe off his face as he looks back and forth between her and the target of her request. “Heavy?” he echoes, snout scrunched in distaste. “I wasn’t going to do him or DC. I mean… I can, I guess, but -”

“You said it wasn’t romantic, so,” she trails off meaningfully with an expectant look.

Frowning, Cure folds his arms across his chest and demands, “Is this some kinda weird Neighponese colt-love thing?! Cause if it is then that ain’t my bag, lady.”

Her complete and total incomprehension answers the question for him. Head tilted to the side, she quietly sounds out, “Neighponese colt-love?” questioningly. Finally shaking the thought away, she explains, “I just thought it would be funny. He definitely wouldn’t expect it.”

“He wouldn’t,” Cure easily agrees. “But I don’t think I can get him over here without waking up Coast and Rising. Saph is the only other one who is kinda off to the side. I have food on the way, bee-tee-dubs, but…” he pauses and sighs, running a hand up his snout against the coarser hairs’ direction. The unusual sensation gives him pause for a second before he groans, “Ugh. This is getting more complicated than I’d hoped.”

“Sorry,” she quietly murmurs, ducking her head.

“No, no. It’s okay. I guess maybe this wasn’t the best thought out. Kinda has a bit too much of a creeper vibe to it, what with the bigger me, doesn’t it?”

“No!” she quickly insists, rapidly shaking her head. “It was a very sweet idea! You being,” she motions from his hooves to his head with a hoof, “isn’t a big deal. We’ve kind of gotten used to the whole ‘other bodies’ thing.”

“Ehh, if you say so. It seems like maybe I took it a little too far, though.”

“Maybe?” she squeaks out in agreement.

“Well… damn. Sorry I woke you up early for nothin, then.”

“I would normally be waking up soon anyhow.”

Cure regards the pile of foals for a moment, sighing again. “She’ll be raising the sun any second and I’m paying for the food right now, so how about we wake everypony up, let them all freshen up, eat, go over what I missed, and then we can do the whole makeover-slash-massage thing later.”

“Slash?”

“Uh. Sorry, it’s short for and and or at the same time.”

“Oooohhkay?”

“Don’t worry about it,” he insists, flicking a wing to the side. “I’m just ahead of the times, that’s all. My lingo is too fresh and hip for all you squares to understand.”

For some unknowable reason, the dark filly seems strangely unimpressed. With his plan somewhere between ruined and revised, Cure and Ferric rejoin the others on the bed, snuggling together until Celestia’s sun begins its ascent in the east.

His breakfast fetching puppet pauses to take in the sight, noting the slight pink hue haloing the golden sphere. Not only is the sunrise visually magnificent, but an indescribable warmth seems to soak into his very being at the sight. Knowing what was on the princess’s agenda last night, Cure can only interpret the morning’s extravagance as a sign that everything worked out well enough.

Like a switch has been flipped, the other foals begin to come to wakefulness. A parade of small ponies makes its way to the bathroom one by one, meanwhile Cure moves his spare bodies to the attic to be stored away. It’s only a few minutes later that the foals are all gathered at the table, cracking open the boxes to see what all he had brought them.

As opposed to most mornings, both Cherry and Lotus got up at the same time, sticking to their brother’s side at the dinner table. The herd had no more than gotten started when heavier hooffalls upstairs signal that at least two parents are up and moving. Once their bedroom door opens his aura shows his dam and mom coming out, the former carrying the twins on her back and the latter being left in the dust when Savvy shoots out from between her legs.

The filly’s little wings don’t stop fluttering as she dives down the steps, Title’s voice futily chasing behind her with a hissed, “No flying in the house!”

Both pegasi crack up at the scene of an earth pony mare ungracefully chasing her quasi-pegasus daughter down steps.

“So weird,” Drift idly comments. “Inside the house is exactly where most parents get their foals started flying.”

“Mhmm,” Heavy agrees, swallowing down an oversized bite of an eclair. “Mom said it’s a lot easier in a cloud house since you can rearrange everything and you won’t get hurt hitting clouds. And they’re more open. She got Summer and Fall started in the yard ‘cause there wasn’t enough room in our living room.”

By the time Heavy finishes, Savvy is nosing her way between Cure and Cherry on his right. He feels a little bad about letting her snake her way in, but Cherry doesn’t seem to mind scooting over for her.

He isn’t oblivious enough to miss the fact that he spoils her more than his oldest sisters, but fixing that is going to take some effort. As best he can figure, the only thing to do is include them whenever it seems appropriate to and, otherwise, let that bond establish itself naturally. They seem to like going on flights with him, and he can easily carry them both with an adult sized body, so maybe that would be a good way to spend some time together later. He resolves himself to talk to the mom squad about it when they’re all available. Amethyst probably wants to get in some dam-daughter time in once she’s had a few rounds with her first wife and husband, so maybe sometime in the afternoon would be better.

He pauses feeding the little filly some torn chunks of doughnut when a green foreleg wraps around his left side, firmly squeezing him into a familiar tuft of furry chest. Head cocked to the side to avoid goring his dam, he nuzzles his cheek into Vines’ neck, relishing her comforting scent. “Mornin, dam. Love you.”

“I love you too, sweetie,” she gushes, leaning down to return the affection. “I’m not so sure having a body double around is a good idea when you’re gone.”

“What?” he asks, suddenly concerned. Glancing between her and the herd of foals he cautiously inquires, “Was there some kind of problem with the lieutenant?”

“It was a little weird having somepony look and act like you,” Dawn immediately comments, “but we didn’t have any problems at all.”

“Neither did we,” Title insists, loading up a plate for herself. “It was your dam that had the problem,” she teasingly adds, shooting Vines an accusatory look.

The sweet mare’s ears pin back and the scent of anxiety slams into the colt as her tail lashes angrily behind her. “She wasn’t you,” she huffs agitatedly, leaning more heavily against his back.

Cure rolls his eyes but presses more firmly into her chest, prodding at her neck with his snout. He mentally facehooves at the oversight; Vines always gets upset whenever he alters his own scent too much, so even with the “him” scented oils there must have been enough of a difference that it set off alarm bells in her head. Or, if it wasn’t the scent, it was simply knowing that the Cure-like foal was not really her own.

Between her strong reaction to him not quite being himself, Emerald Aura’s aversion to his Solar Strike clone during his demonstration, and the minor freakout everypony else has when he copies their appearance, he’s beginning to wonder if maybe there’s some kind of instinctual reaction involved. There are obviously creatures that can mimic ponies other than changelings, so it wouldn’t be too surprising to find that ponies evolved some kind of sense for detecting intruders well before changelings supposedly came along.

After all, the origin of the still elusive race doesn’t date back nearly far enough for them to have influenced pony evolution if they came about during Star Swirl’s time. Maybe beings with abilities like theirs have hunted ponies for tens of thousands of years. That brings up several other questions, though. What were they? How did ponies confirm their suspicion? Were they driven to extinction, or is there some other wolf out there amongst the sheep he’ll have to keep an eye out for?

“She was doin her job, dam. The important thing is was she convincing enough for everypony else to not suspect anything?”

Title pipes in before she can answer. “She was really good, actually. You can tell she’s done this before. I don’t think Savvy suspected a thing, in fact.”

“She played with us a lot!” Lotus excitedly adds. “We went to the park almost every day and she would chase us on the slide and push us on the swings!”

“Your dam went too,” Title interjects. “I don’t think any of us were completely comfortable letting her take them by herself, but your dam,” she says, directing a disappointed look at the green mare, “said she played with them really well.”

“She did,” Vines begrudgingly admits after a short pause.

“Awesome. How about with you all?” he asks, panning across the other foals. “How was she with you?”

“She was good,” Rising volunteers. “She did a pretty good job blending in. We went to lunch a couple times and met her at the park.”

“You could tell she wasn’t an earth pony,” Heavy adds. Cure cocks a brow in his direction and he clarifies, “She got tired after a while. We played frisbee and buckball and hoofball and ran around a lot. She had to take a few breaks.”

“Huh. I hadn’t considered that.”

“We went to Miller’s with her a few times, too,” Glacial adds.

As the conversation shifts back to the foals, Vines and Title finish gathering up some food and drinks for themselves, then retreat to the front living room to give the foals a modicum of privacy.

“Oh? How’d that go?”

“Fine,” she answers with a shrug. “Whenever we go out we use a Sound Bubble crystal, so we just did that.”

“She went to the art festival with us,” Heavy adds. “Said it would be good to be seen in Baltimare while you were gone. You probably would have liked it, too, dude. You should go with us next time they have one.”

Cure makes a face of disbelief, prompting Coast to explain, “Almost everypony was selling Serpentus stuff. Drawings, paintings, photos, metal sculptures, and any kind of trinket you can imagine, and it was selling like crazy.”

“Did you see the glassmaker?” Glacial excitedly asks. “She’s a unicorn and she was heating the glass and molding it in her aura right there at her booth! She had the most amazing little music boxes and cases and stuff!” She turns to Cure, literally bouncing in her seat. “I’ll show you the one I got later! It’s like the picture of us dancing on that boat!”

“Huh. That actually sounds kinda neat.”

“One stall had one of your feathers for sale. Supposedly,” Drift says, the disbelief plain to hear in her voice. “She had a little certificate saying it was authentic, but I know you only let the princess have a few to begin with.”

“It could be real. I pretty much assumed at least a few ponies would buy those toys just to resell them later,” he comments. “How much was it going for?”

“Dude, it was over ten thousand bits!” Heavy exclaims. “She was telling everypony that if they slept near it they would stay healthy for life. That isn’t true, is it?”

Cure scoffs and rolls his eyes. “I friggin wish. If my feathers could heal ponies I could just send one to each hospital in the country and save myself the time farting with plants. That said, ten grand for a real alicorn feather is probably a steal. The princess incinerates hers and I don’t lose mine unless I want to, so there’s not a lot of them out there in the world.”

“I doubt anypony bought it,” Dawn chimes in. “Why bother when anypony that gets hurt can just come see you at the hospital whenever?”

“Eh, maybe somepony that doesn’t live here would go for it,” Cure suggests. “Somepony with a lot of extra bits lying around. Anyhow, my greatness on display at the festival aside,” he teases, smiling at the multiple eye rolls he earns, “did you notice anypony staring or giving you odd looks when you were out with her in town? The whole point was for me to be seen here while Serpentus was away, after all.”

Heavy shrugs, but every filly at the table bobs their head and confirms they did draw some looks. “Good. Maybe I can put the whole ‘I am Serpentus’ thing to bed this week. The princess gave me… well, an assignment,” he lightly growls the word out.

Not waiting for them to ask for details, he explains, “Corporal Rico, the chestnut unicorn with a red mane, mentioned the Broccoloid thing in front of her, so now Prince Serpentus has to go around all of the farms in the area and check the crops to make sure we’re not accidentally eating sentient vegetables. I may head to Carol later today to make arrangements. Or, I guess I could just go after my shift tomorrow.”

“Wait,” Drift calls out, grinning from ear to ear, “she knows that was you?!”

“Of course she does.”

“How?!”

“Because I had to tell her about the rings the first day I was there.”

“Why?” Dawn asks, genuinely curious why Cure would disclose their existence.

“Because she knows I’m too paranoid to have trusted a bodyguard that she’s never heard of before.”

“So wait,” Drift jumps back in, body shaking with barely suppressed laughter, “the princess knows you’re so nuts that she guessed you were pulling some kind of trick?”

Chuckles and stifled laughter are the only sound as Cure stares impassively at the purple pegasus.

“I’m not nuts,” he grumbles in answer.

The dam breaks as the other foals all burst out laughing at his plight. Donning a mighty pout doesn’t seem to help at all. If anything, the sullen expression cracks them up further as they bask in his misery. Even his little sisters join in, with Savvy giggling and clapping her forehooves with everypony else.

“... buncha brats,” he grumbles, forelegs folded across his chest.

It takes a moment for the laughter to die down, after which he gives a more detailed explanation of his plan.

“... so once I know what day ‘His Highness’ will be making the rounds, we’ll plan to meet him downtown or something. I dunno. Maybe I’ll have a meet and greet at Town Hall or whatever.”

“Do it in front of the Post,” Coast suggests. “Prince Serpentus already knows the guards here, and you’re the coltfriend of two… well, three since both of your parents are guards,” she amends, nodding to Crosswind before continuing, “of their daughters. That’ll give you an excuse to be there, too. Also, lots of ponies know you helped them train for the competition.”

“That’s… brilliant, DC!” he enthusiastically agrees. “I bet I can arrange for a photographer to be present, too. Oh! I know!” he shouts, almost climbing out of his seat. “The fall season is coming up soon! I’ll put the word out that I’m doing health checks for any mares or stallions that are hoping to have foals! I’ll have to hit the other suburbs, too, but I can do that while you all are in school. Tia said to get this done before the end of the month, so maybe I can start next week! That’ll be perfect!”

“Ugh,” Rising groans, head dropping onto the table. The sudden, unexpected change in her demeanor gets more than a few curious looks. “My dam hasn’t stopped talking about it,” she whines, face pinched in disgust.

“Yeah, the less said about that the better,” he agrees, hoping to quickly change the subject away from his sire pounding a foal into her dam. He still isn’t sure why Vines agreed to it, but he supposes there’s not really a good reason not to if Deed is okay with the arrangement. The stallion won’t be expected to actually be a father to the foal, but he has a hard time imagining him being completely uninvolved, also.

Then again, there already is a connection between their families via Cure and Rising, so assuming they don’t separate in the coming years it shouldn’t really make a difference. Compared to the other single dams amongst his friends, Crisp Script seems to be the most financially successful, so it’s unlikely she would ever need support. Even if she did, the family earns enough that it wouldn’t be a problem in the least to help out on occasion.

Cure makes a mental note to inquire as to whether or not his sire will be taking any of the many, many contract requests that they’ve received via Brick, as well. They don’t really need the money anymore, but Deed is the very epitome of a healthy, virile stallion; there’s no reason he shouldn’t be out there knocking up as many mares as will have him unless that’s just not something he’s super keen on. He certainly didn’t object to being the worm wiggling around inside of Miss Apple, so Cure doubts the stallion will be opposed to it.

“Moving on,” he deftly continues, “is there anything important that happened in regards to you all while I was away?”

Dawn gives a half shrug before speaking up, “I got another letter from Solar. He said he sent you one this time, too, so it’s probably with all your other mail.”

“Probably,” he agrees. “I have a stack in my work room I haven’t opened. I’ll have to take a look. From what Director Stormsurge said he’s doing great. Everything’s good on his end, I’m guessing?”

“Mhmm!” she enthusiastically nods. “My parents are talking about going up to Chicoltgo to visit him sometime around Nightmare Night.”

The colt’s eyes widen and he opens his mouth to ask if she means that weekend, but she anticipates his question and is already shaking her head no. “Not that weekend. Either before or after. We’ll be in town for,” she trails off, flicking her eyes towards the front of the house.

“Good. Still, I wouldn’t mind going with if yer parents were cool with it, but,” he trails off with a sigh.

“You already travel a lot,” she understandingly agrees, “and between January, then next school year…”

“Right,” he begrudgingly acknowledges.

“It’s okay,” she assures him. “He knows you’re busy.”

“You’re busier than any five foals I know,” Glacial adds.

“Alright. I’ll at least write him back. Maybe we can send him a goodie box or something, too.”

Drift leans close to Glacial and whispers in her ear, “I’m pretty sure Starlight’s taking him one of those,” then bursts out in giggles. Glacial, seeing how Cure gives her a look of exasperation, blushes a deep red on her cheeks and quickly breaks eye contact. Out of the corner of his eye, he notices how Dawn is shooting the older pegasus an unimpressed scowl.

Heavy, Harmony bless his naivety, perks up and asks, “Oh, Starlight’s going too?” A dopey grin spreads across his muzzle and he says, “She’s got a really pretty coat.” Everypony stares at the gray colt for a moment before dismissing him entirely. Interestingly as far as Cure is concerned, Delta Coast didn’t seem to be showing any signs of jealousy. If anything she gives a shallow nod of agreement before moving on.

“Right. Well, I think she’s taken, bro, but hey, there’s plenty of fish in the sea and all that.”

“We know a filly at school you might like,” Glacial helpfully suggests.

The other colt perks up, ears standing at attention. “A pegasus?”

“Duh?” Drift mocks, waving her left wing meaningfully. She turns to Glacial and cocks a brow, asking, “Do you think she’s into earth ponies?”

The lighter filly shrugs and inclines her head in thought. “I don’t know?” she answers with a questioning lilt. “You know who I’m talking about, right?”

“Dreamwave?” Drift replies. “She’s the only one his age with about the same color.”

“Right. I’ve never really talked to her much, but I know she had a crush on Cloudbreaker.”

Drift nods in acceptance and gives Heavy an evaluating look. After a moment of consideration she shrugs and concedes, “Maybe. Cloud is pretty thick for a pegasus, so maybe she’s into bigger colts.”

“I’ll say something next time I see her,” Glacial resolutely decides. She looks to Coast with a raised brow, asking, “Assuming that’s okay with you?”

The blue filly bobs her head in acceptance, saying, “As long as she’s nice. I wouldn’t mind meeting her.”

“Well… that was fascinating to witness,” Cure teasingly begins, “but -”

“OH!” Drift shouts, wings splaying out, “We got contacted by somepony from the Wonderbolts!”

“What? What for? Are you being scouted or something?! You’re awfully young-”

“No, moron! The freaking flight suits!”

Eagerness on full display, Cure perks up even more, leaning heavily against the table in anticipation. “No way! They want to buy flight suits from you?!” Both fillies cringe and slowly shake their heads to the negative, leaving him thoroughly confused. “Okay, then what the hay are you talking about?”

“She asked us to stop selling suits with a lightning bolt on them,” Drift grows, crossing her forelegs over her chest. “That’s what we sell more of than anything! The ffffuu” her eyes flick to the three younger foals sitting on Cure’s sides, “fudgeface said if we keep selling suits with their logo they may have to sue us!”

“What?! That’s bullhonk! They don’t own a trademark on a freaking lightning bolt!” he exclaims, thumping his right hoof on the table. He waves a foreleg in Glacial’s direction, asking, “What, does your sire owe them a bit every time he causes it to storm?!”

“She wasn’t being mean about it,” Glacial placatingly explains, resting a hoof on Drift’s withers to calm the more aggressive filly. “She said that they have a lot of ponies using designs similar to their own and that if they don’t pursue all of them then they can’t go after any of them.”

Cure blows out a long sigh, nodding along in understanding. “I guess that makes sense. I don’t know how that stuff works, but I’m familiar with the concept. We’ll just have to come up with a design that’s different enough that they’ll leave us alone. It shouldn’t be too hard to do; Harmony knows there’s more than enough designs in nature I could copy. I’m guessing you haven’t been approached by any bluebirds threatening to sue?” he jests, meeting Drift’s eyes.

“No, but that still sucks! Can’t you tell them to leave you alone? They report to you, don’t they?”

“That’s one of the very few things Celestia said I can’t do before I even agreed to the whole prince thing. I can’t use the crown for my own gain, and commanding the Wonderbolts, or their attorneys, I guess, to bugger off is close enough to count. Besides, I’m going to all the trouble of separating Cure Wave from Serpentus. I definitely don’t want to do something that links them together.”

The purple filly clearly doesn’t like the answer, but aside from some pouting she doesn’t argue the point any further.

“You might have a letter from them, too,” Glacial apologetically explains. “She said she had to know who was making the suits. I ended up giving her the address for your office.”

“Alright. Lemon probably put it in the massive stack of crap I need to go through.” Next, Cure looks between the earth ponies, specifically Delta Coast and Sapphire Sprint since they mostly manage the next topic of discussion. “Anything new in the plushie business?”

Coast, instead of answering, waves a hoof to Sapphire to go ahead. The aqua filly bounces in her seat, excitedly bobbing her head. “My dam and I met with that pony you made look like you!” She pauses for a moment, pawing at her chin in consideration before she continues, “Well, not you, you, but other you, who I guess is still you, but not really you. You know what I mean?”

“On brief, fleeting occasions, yes,” he flatly agrees.

Unbothered by his sarcastic response, she chipperly exclaims, “Great! That’s what I love about ya, Cutey Wave! Always so quick on the uptake! Anywho-you-how, dam told Mr. Piece about how you use your talent to make them and he was SUPER DUPER excited to have them in his store! He told dam he’d lease us a section of shelving in his store for half price for the first six months!”

“He’s not just buying and reselling them?”

“Nope!” she exclaims, popping the P at the end. “He says his business model is different from most stores and this way encourages toy makers to come up with new ideas!”

“I guess it would be less risky for him, too, since he gets paid either way. How much is a shelf normally?”

“A hundred bits per month for a twelve hooves across and four high!”

“I have no idea if that’s a good deal or not,” Cure admits. “I guess it depends where in the store it is. Either way, though, giving us a three hundred bit discount is kinda chintzy compared to how much I saved him by finishing his procedure more quickly.”

“It’s right near the front! They’ll be one of the first dolls anypony that walks in sees!”

For a split second, Cure looks as if he’s swallowed something foul. “They’re not dolls,” he indignantly huffs, even though he knows they are.

Unbothered by his tone, Sapphire immediately fires back. “Sure they are! They’re just super soft and squeezy fluffy dolls! What else could they possibly be?!”

Defensively, he answers, “I prefer cuddle toys.”

“They’re dolls,” Dawn seconds.

“Definitely dolls,” Drift agrees. “Who ever thought a big, strong colt like you could be so good at making little dollies? Isn’t that adoooorable?!” she gushes, exaggeratedly swooning.

“Don’t forget, he’s an amazing seamstress, too!” Sapphire sing-songs, giggling at the scowl he sends her.

Ferric looks confused for a moment, softly asking the table, “Isn’t seamstress only for mares?”

“Et tu, Red?” the stricken colt cries. She clearly fails to understand the reference, looking to the others for a hint. “It’s from a piece of classic literature. It translates as ‘and you’ but is associated with betrayal, but I’m just teasing with you. And a stallion is a seamster, which I am not. There just happens to be a billion ways I can apply my talent. Like the aforementioned plushies that are an entirely different category of toys from dolls,” he sternly declares.

“Regardless if they are dolls or not, this is a big opportunity,” Coast cuts back in. “Those will get seen by a lot more ponies in his store than they would here in town.”

“Okay, but who is going to be making the deliveries and stocking the shelves? If we’re just leasing it, I’m guessing that keeping it full is our responsibility, right?”

“He knows we’re all foals, so he said his staff can stock the shelf if we can’t come regularly. As for delivering the dolls,” she emphasizes the word, allowing herself a small smile when his lip curls, “they don’t weight much and don’t need packing material, so we’re just going to ship them through the mail if one of our dams-”

“Or my mom,” Heavy interjects. “She said she could run them over if she’s free.”

“-right, or his mom, isn’t available.” his fillyfriend agrees. “Or, maybe, if we could find somepony who is going to Baltimare a couple times per week already.”

Cure stares on impassively.

“Somepony that could disguise himself as a delivery pony,” she continues, smiling expectantly as she leans further and further in his direction and stares directly into his eyes. “It sure would be nice if we had somepony like that, wouldn’t it? A big, strong stallion willing to lend a hoof…”

“That would be convenient. Shame I can’t think of anypony.”

“Cure?” Rising pleadingly calls. Knowing full well he’ll regret doing so, Cure leans forward to look down the table at her, finding big, soulful, watery eyes and a quivering lip. “Please? It would only take you a minute.”

“Maker damn it,” he sighs, admitting defeat.

“Language!” his dam scolds from the front of the house.

“Oh, please! Like Amy has never cursed around them!”

“Mommy never says bad words,” Cherry faux innocently insists.

“Mhmm! She’s gonna scrub your tongue with soap when she wakes up,” Lotus agrees.

“The laugh’s on her then. I think soap is delicious!” he exclaims, sticking said tongue out at one, then the other. “Besides, it’s more likely she’ll be scrubbin the both’a you than paying me any mind today. Harmony knows she’s had enough of me for a while.” Neither filly seems at all perturbed by the prospect of spending time with the mare.

Cure hadn’t even considered that the last two weeks are probably the longest she’s ever been separated from her foals in their entire lives. A hint of guilt wells up in his gut for keeping her away from her babies for so long. It would be different if he’d spent the entire time working, but the competition portion of his trip was originally planned as a vacation, more or less.

“I’ll make the deliveries,” the colt grumbles, turning back to the other foals, “but there are three things I want you to keep in mind here. First, my capacity for production is limited, especially during the winter months because of the lack of sunlight.”

That may not be wholly accurate, he is aware. While the vast majority of his power is derived from photosynthesis via his plant, he may be able to massively increase his solar collection by spreading to the ocean. If he can do so then his production capacity may very well be just shy of infinite. There is a limit, of course, but he can’t fathom what it could possibly be.

Unfortunately, he isn’t familiar enough with the local ecosystem to know what unpredictable impact there could be. Merponies may be a thing, he is aware, and he would prefer not to learn they exist by having one show up at City Hall demanding to know what ponies are doing intruding into their domain. Additional reconnaissance is needed before he can go hog wild.

He could kick himself for not sending a body around Canterlot to gather more crystals, but between Early’s and his upcoming Filly trip he should be able to stock up just the same. He still has plenty of gold left, but the crystals aren’t cheap. It’s a good thing he turned a tidy profit in Canterlot, even if he got screwed out of over a third on a technicality.

“Sunlight?” Heavy questions.

“Sure. The materials I’m using are coming from a plant. Less sun, less rain, less heat, less growth. Second, this whole enterprise, as it is right now, is temporary,” he emphasizes. “I will not always be able to commit time, which it doesn’t take much right now, granted, to making plushies for you all to sell. If you plan on this being a long term source of income then I’ll need to make it so one or all of you can interface with the plant that creates everything, which isn’t possible right now as I’m primarily using my talent to cheat.”

He gives them all a moment to process that explanation. Once he gets some understanding nods back from the group he continues, “Lastly, I hope you are not taking this as a lesson on how real world economics work. Nopony - and I mean nopony - but a very good friend would produce a product and provide shipping while only taking a twenty percent cut. I don’t need the money!” he’s quick to blurt out before they have the chance to insist he take more, “but just keep in mind that if you ever end up in a sales job like this has kind of become for you, ten to fifteen percent is probably the most you could expect from a commission.”

He feels a little bad about raining on their parade. Heavy, Coast, Sapphire, and Rising look and smell like they feel guilty for taking advantage of him, so he once again reassures them that he doesn’t see it like that.

“Don’t feel bad,” Drift finally remarks, “after all, he was making big bits during his little trip.” She gives him a predatory smile and leans almost her entire upper body on the table, asking, “Or should I say ‘Madame Adiah’ was making big bits, hmmmmmm?”

A thick silence settles on the room.

“I… have no idea what you’re talkin about,” he poorly lies, completely failing to hide the surprise of being called out. “I never met the mare.”

“Uh huh,” the filly mockingly agrees. “I’m sure it was just a coincidence that somezebra nopony has ever heard of before happened to show up right where you were and was selling the same, exact things you did for our parents. What are the odds, I wonder.”

“Well it was my fourth trip to Canterlot, so twenty-five percent?” he suggests.

“Come off it,” she demands. “We all know this wasn’t a coincidence. I wonder how many mares are carrying colt twins in the capital right now.”

Cure chews his lip as he surveys the room. Most of the other foals are dutifully avoiding meeting his eyes, which means they probably discussed this before his return. Adiah’s services did end up in several newspapers, so it shouldn’t surprise him that word got back to Golden Hills and that the ponies most aware of his abilities put two and two together. His mom’s quiet snickering from the living room doesn’t exactly help, nor do his dam’s attempts to shush her.

“I… uhh,” he haltingly begins. “If I had anything to do with that, my understanding is that her prices for those treatments were very reasonable.”

“Those treatments,” she barely gets out between bouts of laughter. “What about the other treatments she was offering, hmmm?” Lowering her voice so his dam and mom can’t hear, or so she thinks, she lists, “Muscle strengthening for easier foalbirth? Male enhancement to increase the chances of conception?”

Aside from the filly herself, there’s not a single cheek amongst his friends that isn’t burning bright red with embarrassment.

“... Shut up, Drift,” he mumbles, barely holding back the blush that threatens to creep up his neck as well. The filly absolutely loses it, falling backwards off her bench and rolling on the floor. Some sympathetic, but incredibly uncomfortable titters escape the others. They only worsen the colt’s desire to find a nice, quiet spot to curl up and die. Unfortunately, even that’s not an option since, even if he could die of embarrassment, according to Celestia he would be back within an hour anyhow.

He can at least take comfort in the fact that they’re not asking about any other “zebra shaman” hijinks he may have been involved in. While it may bring them some comfort to know the lengths he’s willing to go to in order to protect them, he’s not sure how they would feel knowing he broke into a secure compound, drugged and threatened an ambassador, and pretended to crawl down his wife’s throat before escaping.

The zebras mostly kept a lid on that fiasco, probably out of embarrassment as much as anything. The chase the next morning wasn’t even in the papers since nopony got hurt and the Guard was only involved for a few seconds before he fled the scene.

A poke on his left side draws his attention to his darkest colored sister. She looks up to her big brother with those sweet, innocent eyes and asks, “Who is Madame Adiah? Is she a fillyfriend from Canterlot?”

Dawn somehow manages to choke on air, devolving into a coughing mess off to his right side.

“No, Lotus. She’s just a zebra that had a shop near where me and your dam were staying.”

“Oh. Good. Mommy showed us the pictures of you with the fillies. She said you need to slow down because it’s not a competition. What’d she mean by that?”

Mumbled agreements sound out around the table, much to his dismay. “Those are just some fillies I met while I was watching the guards compete. They are just friends,” he insists, looking around the table challengingly.

Cherry pokes his other side, waiting until he turns her way to ask, “What about all the fillies you danced with? Are they your fillyfriends now, too?”

“No! They’re just the daughters of the other guards that were there. Dancing with them wasn’t even my idea! Y’all can blame Celestia for that! I didn’t get a say in it at all.”

“You didn’t look too upset about it, either,” Rising deadpans.

“It was fun,” he admits, deciding the truth is the better route. “I’m guessing you all saw the special edition that the Chronicle ran?” Every single one of them nods in response, which isn’t a surprise at all.

Said special edition was primarily about the competition and its results, supposedly, but in reality it was just another way for the papers to make money. Needless to say, pictures of the royals - especially the still new alicorn colt - sell a whole lot better than a bunch of guards most folks will never meet. As a result, he ended up showing up in more pictures than anypony; not necessarily because he has anywhere near the following Celestia does, but because he interacts with the public far, far more than she has the time or desire to.

Hopefully this morning’s extra glorious sunrise is evidence that she’s beginning to form connections with common ponies more since he’s come on the scene.

At their confirmation he continues, “Then if you read the article, you saw the quote where I said I was just as surprised as all of the fillies. Mom’ll back me up on that. Once everything was in motion I could hardly act like a petulant brat about it. It was fun for me, but those fillies dancing with an alicorn prince in the Royal Castle was a once in a lifetime event.” Weakly shrugging, he drives home the point, “Not giving it my all would have been a total jerk move.”

His argument seems to mollify them; all of them nod in understanding even if they’re not completely thrilled that he spent a whole evening dancing after arguing against doing exactly that at the Gala only a few weeks prior.

“Alright. Moving on,” he begins, halting when Glacial raises a hoof in the air.

“Just to be clear, our parents think she was working for you. They still don’t know about your portal things.”

Drift nods in agreement, adding, “Daddy said he thought she was an earth pony whose coat you changed.”

“Huh. I guess he is technically correct. I suppose I’d rather have them assume I’m working with somepony else on that one.”

“Better than thinking it was you,” Dawn agrees. “I’m just glad my dam hasn’t asked me about it.”

“I don’t expect you to lie to your parents for me,” he insists. “It may be best to say something vague like it’s related to my talent or whatever.”

“Or I’ll tell her you’ve asked us not to say anything about it. You are a prince, she knows you’ll have to keep some things secret.”

Cure shrugs and bobs his head in acceptance. “Works for me.”

“How much did you make?” All eyes snap to Drift at her blunt question.

“A lot. I have several tens of thousands of bits in rolls of smaller denominations that I’ll have to deal with. It’ll take months for me to get it all deposited without raising questions about where it came from.”

Ferric speaks up, suggesting, “Couldn’t you deposit it when you get back from Filly? Enough ponies have seen your ad. They’ll be expecting a big deposit, I bet.”

“Not this big, but I could probably get rid of a decent chunk of it.”

“Wait,” the darker pegasus cuts back in, “you have over a hundred thousand bits? Here? In this house?!”

In lieu of answering, Cure ignites his horn, Teleporting a large trunk into the kitchen just a meter behind Rising’s back and throwing open the lid. Crosswind abandons the last few bites of her doughnut, scrambling to get a look inside. Curiosity gets the better of the other foals, including his sisters, and in only a few seconds only Cure and Savvy are still at the table.

Drift picks up roll after roll to inspect them, feeling more and more faint as she finds larger denominations. Her eyes are soon attracted to the largest coins in the trunk, the ones worth a thousand bits each. She reverently picks up a roll and holds it between her forehooves, sitting on her rear completely gobsmacked.

“Fifty thousand bits,” she breathily whispers.

Heavy isn’t much better off. The colt is awestruck, just standing there staring into the trunk like it’s the most amazing thing he’s ever seen.

“Yeah, don’t go getting too attached to that roll, Drift,” Cure teases from the table. Unbidden, mental images of dozens of fully erect stallions being stimulated by his magic’s presence rush to the forefront of his mind. He stares unblinkingly off into the distance, barely holding back a full body shudder. “Maker knows I earned every one of those bits,” he quietly grouses.

“It’s kinda weird,” Rising observes. “It’s enough to buy a nice house, but when it’s all bundled up like that it barely even seems like real money.”

“Seems real enough to me,” Drift insists, nuzzling the roll of thousands against her cheek. The way she closes her eyes and sighs is a little strange, but he can’t be sure he wouldn’t have done the same thing only a short year ago.

“I don’t know why you’re gushing over that,” he grumbles. “I know you’ve made a tidy profit off of the suit sales.”

“Yeah, but seeing it all at once…” she drifts off, staring into the box.

“And that’s after taxes. The big white bully wouldn’t extend my exemption,” he grumpily pouts, “so that’s only a little over two-thirds of the total. Speaking of which, I hope you’ve all been keeping track of everything. The end of the quarter is just a couple weeks away. It’s best to just turn in everything as soon as possible.”

“My dam has ours ready,” Glacial answers, bumping shoulders with Drift.

“Dawn, how about you? Your first quarter payment is due in a couple weeks.”

The filly’s muzzle crinkles at the reminder, but she begrudgingly nods. “Daddy made me set money aside from the get-go.”

“Cool. How are you on supplies? I’m already planning on stocking up in Filly, so…”

“Good for now.”

“Get more dust,” Drift requests. “We need some for a few suit orders. Dust and maybe some cheaper crystals for Warming since winter isn’t too far away.”

“Can you add that to the dolls, too?” Coast requests. “Maybe something that parents can turn on to warm them up for a foal?”

“That’s a good idea, but it’ll raise the price,” he points out.

“Only by about thirty bits for the dust and a low crystal,” Dawn argues.

“Yeah, but you’re talking about increasing the price by over half again.”

“Then only do a few to start and see if they sell,” she immediately retorts.

Cure ponders the suggestion for a moment before he shrugs and agrees to try it out. “Fine, but charge double. I’ll make a cardboard box with a cellophane window and we’ll market them as a premium product. We’ll mark them down from there if they don’t sell. Y’all are lucky your production costs are essentially zero.”

“Unlike your cosmetic business, what with all the materials you go through,” Coast challengingly points out.

Cure blows out a sigh and turns to the only other colt in the room. “Bro, I’m gonna need you to do a better job controlling your fillyfriend. She’s speaking out of turn again.”

A half dozen jaws drop open and stare in shock. Heavy, showing wisdom beyond his years, takes a big step back to get out of the line of fire. Title climbs to her hooves and trots over to the colt, scooping Savvy off the bench and retreating back to the living room. “He’s all yours, ladies,” she calls over her withers. “Have at ‘em.”

“I’m teasing!” he cries out, hooves held up in surrender before any of them pounce. “Besides, if you beat me up now then how am I supposed to give you all makeovers once we’re done?”

“You’ll heal,” Coast menacingly growls.

“Physically,” he agrees, “but mentally? Who knows. I’d hate to accidentally put a big yellow stripe through your mane because I’m so traumatized and whatnot.”

“You wouldn’t dare!” the filly shouts, scandalized at the very notion.

“No, I wouldn’t. I’m teasing. Jeez. Look, if y’all wanna roughhouse some, that’s fine, but -”

“Outside!” his dam shouts from the living room.

“- Right, but three things to keep in mind: I cheat, I will tickle you, and I can tell if you’re actually about to pee yourself or if you’re just faking it.”

Despite the threat of using underhooved tactics, Cure was summarily dragged out of the house and pounced upon by the other foals. While it didn’t go well for them at first, numbers ultimately won out since he just didn’t have it in him to abuse his talent. He also didn’t want to be seen outside with a horn and wings, so with his mobility and versatility hindered it didn’t take long for them to dogpile him.

They are all perfectly aware that he could have easily outrun them or won a dozen different ways, but that would have ruined his fun. The herd of foals only spent a short while running around and playing before returning to his house to get cleaned up and enjoy their promised massages and grooming sessions.

The group showering was still a little uncomfortable for him, and he spent more time telling himself to think like a pony than he did really enjoying himself. He got through the experience just fine, though, even if he did notice the girls taking the opportunity to check both him and Heavy out a little. Even if there’s no sexual attraction at their ages, they still have curiosity in abundance.

Coast, Rising, Sapphire, and Ferric were the ones he caught the most, while Dawn was the only one that didn’t seem to pay any attention to the colts. Cure isn’t sure whether it’s a maturity thing or if she was secretly checking them both out with her horn’s aura the whole time.

As much as he would like to insist he didn’t pay the fillies any mind, he can’t deny that Drift and Glacial caused him to stop and stare briefly when they were preening each other’s wings after washing up. Heavy wasn’t any better; despite his best efforts not to gawk, he is a male, and two pretty fillies his age with their faces buried in each other’s plumage isn’t something he gets to see every day.

With the lieutenant due to arrive around eleven o’clock, Cure didn’t have time to give each foal the full massage experience, even when he used a clone so he could give them two at a time. That wasn’t a problem, per se, since he didn’t want to leave them zonked out of their minds for the rest of the morning.

The makeovers themselves were even quicker since it only takes a moment for him to alter somepony’s coat. Crosswind wanted to keep her bluebird pattern, but asked for a blend of her coat’s purples to be added to her mane and tail. Ferric had previously declined anything at all, but asked for him to add her coat’s deep red to the tips of both her tail and mane. It created a subtle “fire touched” effect, especially after he brushed and oiled her coat until it had a brilliant sheen.

Whether it be out of a desire to try something new, or if he thought it may increase his chances with the filly Drift and Glacial had discussed, Heavy asked for a four pointed star in his mane’s dark blue to be added onto his chest. The longer arms reach up his neck and down onto his belly while the shorter two follow the curve of his chest just above his shoulders.

Dawn’s request was a little more comprehensive. Perhaps inspired by her Nightmare Night ensemble, she asked for her coat’s lighter orange to fade to red as it rises up from her hooves, blending near seamlessly with her mane and tail’s crimson as it reaches her back. He adds a few streaks of yellow to her tail, matching the ones he'd given her mane last year.

Coast tried a few different patterns, including having Cure give her “socks” that he thought were a bad idea, at least on a filly of her age. Really, he's not sure if he would ever suggest something like that, even for an adult. He is yet to hear a vagina referred to as a pink sock in this life, but it wouldn't take any great wit to come up with. Fortunately for his mental wellbeing, the pink they started out with would not fade well into her blue, so she abandoned the idea after a few tries. Cure suggested darkening her coat like Dawn had, but she ultimately decided to leave well enough alone.

Sapphire and Rising declined any changes, though the latter said she would probably hit him up for temporary ones when she has a performance. That only left Glacial, who hadn’t had anything done last time around. At Cure’s insistence that it would look great, she allowed him to add a hint of blue to the end of each of her primary and secondary feathers. It created a wave pattern across her wings that, when struck by the sun, glistened like rows of sapphire dust.

The foals are just finishing showing off to his parents when a knock draws their attention to the front door. Deed, being the closest, opens it to an unfamiliar earth pony mare with a messenger bag looped around her neck. “Well howdy, miss. What can I do ya for?”

“It’s me,” the lieutenant responds in her own voice, glancing past the stallion to the collection of foals. “I’m here to brief his highness before heading back. Is this a good time?”

“As good ‘a time as any, el-tee,” Cure responds as he approaches. “Come on in and head to my office and I’ll be with you in a sec.”

“Yes, sir!” she chirps, stepping into the house. Instead of going down the hallway, she plops down on her rump and pulls the satchel over her head. “Per her majesty, I have a delivery for Mrs. Vines,” she says, holding it out in offering to the green mare.

A twinge of worry creeps up Cure’s spine as his dam accepts the package. She begins to flip open the cover when Lt. Shift clears her throat. “Apologies, ma’am, but her majesty suggested you review its contents in a more…” she pauses, glancing meaningfully at the herd of foals, “private setting.”

“What’s in it?” Cure curiously inquires, eyes darting back and forth between her and the package.

“Haven’t the foggiest, sir. My orders were to place it directly into Lady Vines’ hooves. I suspect it to be correspondence directly from her majesty, but as far as its contents? I wouldn’t presume to speculate.”

“Ohhkaay,” he nervously acquiesces, turning his attention back to the foals. “I’ll have to get with you all later. I don’t think we’ll be too long, so maybe we can get together again after lunch?” After a quick round of hugs and nuzzles, the foals all make their way out of the house. Cure leads the lieutenant back to his room, pausing to cast one more glance towards the huddle of parents as Vines begins looking over the satchel’s contents.

“You can drop the disguise if you’d prefer, as well as any formalities while it’s just us,” he tells her, waving a hoof to a newly formed couch. She hesitates for only a moment before doing so and making herself comfortable. “So,” he begins, casually jumping on one of his own and flopping to his side, “I spoke to my friends already, as you no doubt guessed, and I’m quite pleased with their accounting of your performance.

“Aside from my dam’s grumbling about somepony taking my place, my parents didn’t have anything negative to say either. And don’t worry about her; I get the impression it’s some maternal instinct kicking off, not anything you did or did not do.”

“That’s good to hear, sir. May I assume you have already reviewed my notes?”

Allowing his embarrassment to show by sheepishly pinning back his ears, Cure slowly shakes his head. “Apologies, lieutenant. I’ve spent the last twelve hours primarily enjoying my friends’ company. I have neither read your report, not have I gone through the stacks of mail awaiting both my identities.”

Snout scrunched in distaste, the colt looks towards the door and admits, “I have a sneaking suspicion I may have the remainder of the day to deal with paperwork, depending on what the boss lady put in that letter.”

The mare cocks a single brow in question.

“Let’s just say I may have misbehaved a tiny bit during my trip.”

“Everything in the papers was glowing, sir.”

Cure chuckles warmly, saying, “Give me some credit, lieutenant. I can at least control myself in public.”

“... There was one article about a disagreement you had with a chef.”

He cranes his neck up to meet her eyes, scowling. “That idiot had it coming! I wouldn’t let a dog eat anything that came out of that kitchen! Not in the state it was, at least.”

“Understood, sir.”

The colt blows out a sigh, flopping boneless back down on the couch. “Anyhow, I’ll review everything you left me in detail. Is there anything urgent I need to be aware of?”

“Only one thing comes to mind. A mare from the Wonderbolt’s Brand Management Department came by your office Wednesday morning.”

“Yeah, she apparently found Glacial and Drift first. The whole lightning bolt thing, right?”

“Exactly. She didn’t seem to believe you are the creator of the suits at first until your mother, Lemon, intervened. If I may make a suggestion, it may be a lot easier to stop making the suits with that design. I understand their offices to be quite litigious when defending their trademark.”

“No worries there, el-tee. I already planned to give in. I doubt it’ll impact sales too much, and that’s not a large enough chunk of my income to fight it. Plus I really don’t need the attention. Maker knows I have enough on my plate as is,” he grumbles with a huff.

“I’ve noticed, sir. Aside from that, nothing of note came up. I do have a question about your schedule, though.”

“My schedule?”

“Yes, sir. I noticed that you have appointments booked during your shifts at the hospital. I was under the impression I was no longer needed after today, but,” she trails off when he rolls to his barrel and shakes his head no.

“Don’t worry about that. I have made alternative arrangements. I’ll only need your help again when I’m going to be out of town for an extended period.”

The mare nods in acceptance, but Cure can tell she is curious as to what the alternative arrangements may be. When it becomes clear that no further explanation is coming she decides to move on. “Understood, sir.”

Cure rolls his eyes and gives the mare a flat look. Climbing down off his couch, he trots over and hops onto hers, prompting her to sit up. He offers her a hoof and says, “You can call me Cure, lieutenant. You spent the last couple weeks being me, and according to my friends and my parents you did a really good job.”

The mare gives him a genuine smile, reaching out and tapping his hoof. “It was a pleasure, Cure. Can’t say I’ve gotten to run around and play on many assignments before this one. It was kind of refreshing, and I even caught up on some reading while I was maring your office.”

“Good deal! Now, if I’m not mistaken you have a train to catch in Baltimare at one, right?”

“I do.”

“Cool. Go ahead,” he says, waving to the door as it pulls itself open, “get yourself some lunch before you head out. Oh, and as I understand it, the royal car is headed back to Canterlot, so,” he pauses, Teleporting a scroll into the air and passing it to the mare, “it will need somepony to guard it on the way, won’t it?”

“Sir! Yes, sir!”

“Awesome. You have your orders, then. Take care, lieutenant, and I’ll see you again after the new year.”

Knowing full well what she is likely trotting into, Celestia takes a deep breath and slowly blows it out before she takes the odd, sideways step into the astral realm. She had felt the younger alicorn’s presence only a moment prior, and figured it may be best not to let him stew too long before making her appearance.

To the mare’s surprise, the normally serene atmosphere has taken a more ominous appearance. Rather than the typical bright, fluffy clouds lazily drifting about, a hint of gray mars their appearance and they are moving much more quickly than normal. It’s not difficult to discern why; the young alicorn colt is lying on his barrel in the center of the clearing, his head snapped in her direction as soon as she arrived.

It’s only during these visits to the astral that she gets to see the colt in his true colors. Though there is nothing wrong with the brown and gold of his Serpentus disguise, she much prefers the brighter, more vibrant blues and greens he keeps during these meetings.

Of course, his appearance at the moment isn’t exactly the norm. Upon a closer look, it is impossible to ignore the flecks of green drifting from his mane and tail, not to mention the more subtle chocolatey glow hidden behind his eyes.

“Good evening, Cure Wave,” she greets, lying on her barrel just opposite the colt.

“Evenin, boss,” he replies, his warm voice contrasting starkly to his visage. “I couldn’t help but notice the sunrise this morning,” he begins with a smile that doesn’t quite reach his eyes. “I’m assuming everything went well last night?”

That… is worrying. She had been prepared to deal with an irate colt cursing her or, at least, being more curt than normal. That he is doing such an excellent job acting normal despite the obvious seething anger is not something she would expect from one of her little ponies. Not, at least, without several years of experience or the use of a special talent in acting.

“It did. There was some awkwardness, of course, but aside from the first hour or so of disbelief, everything went as well as I could have possibly hoped. We will be keeping everything quiet for now, of course, but,” she pauses, sighing in faux relief, “they did not reject me out of hoof, which is all I could ask given the circumstances.”

“That’s great!” he cheers, though there is a distinct lack of excitement in it.

“It is,” she easily agrees. “However, I do think we have a more urgent topic to discuss than my love life.”

“Oh?” he curiously asks. Hoof tapping against his chin, he cocks his head to the side and asks, “What ever could you be referring to?” False realization paints his features as he sits up, triumphantly thrusting a hoof into the air as he excitedly declares, “Oh, I know! You want to talk about how you narced on me to my dam! I wouldn’t worry about that, princess,” he dismisses in a casual voice. “After all, what else could you do, hmm? It’s not like we could just, you know… keep things that happen between us actually between us, could we?

“Canterlot ain’t exactly Las Pegasus, is it? I mean, it’s not like ‘What happens in Canterlot stays in Canterlot,’ huh? Oh, hey, you might want this back, by the way,” he says, reaching into his mane and pulling out a bloodied knife. He tosses it onto the cloud surface before laying back down on his barrel and giving her a much more genuine glare.

“Do you think that perhaps you are being a little overly theatrical, Cure?”

“I dunno, boss. Seems pretty spot-on to me. Then again, a real knife in my back probably wouldn’t do a whole lot other than piss me off, would it? I guess the whole ‘sticks and stones’ thing is kinda flipped for me.”

Maintaining her calm, she asks, “You view this as a betrayal?”

The colt’s snout scrunches up and he seems to take a moment to really consider the question. “Not… necessarily, a betrayal, exactly, I guess,” he admits, though it is plain to see he considers her decision to write his dam very close to his definition of the word. “It was just a shitty thing to do. You could have at least had the balls to tell me you were reporting my every action to my dam instead of letting me get blindsided like you did.”

“We have an agreement,” she begins before clarifying, “Your dam and I. She, quite reasonably, I might add, has asked that I not hide anything concerning your behavior from her or the rest of your parents. Put yourself in her position, Cure. If you had a foal going off without you, would you not insist on being informed of what he was doing?”

“Well, yeah, but -”

“Then you should have known that your choices would result in exactly this scenario.”

“You still could have at least told me!” he growls, staring daggers at the elder mare.

“I should not have needed to. Even if I had said nothing, do you not honestly believe that Amethyst would not tell her everything, regardless?”

“It’s not the same coming from Amy as it is coming from freaking Princess Celestia,” he snarls her name as the volume of ethereal glow from his mane and tail double, “and you know it!”

“I would argue that she is more inclined to believe her wife than she is anything I say,” she calmly points out. With a sigh, she amends, “Though, truth be told, I suppose she would not be the only one amongst my little ponies would put more weight on my words than even their spouse’s.”

“Exactly!”

“Which, again, should not matter. Objectively, only a small portion of what was in that report could be construed as negative. I am exceedingly grateful for everything you accomplished during your visit, and I made it clear that, even if I was not thrilled with some of the things you are also responsible for, the good you did far, far outweighed any potential problems you had a hoof in.”

“You told her I could have started a war!”

“I correctly pointed out that a prince, foal or not, intentionally invading another nation’s sovereign land could be construed as an act of war depending on the circumstances.”

“You would be amazed how little that made a difference! Again, Princess Celestia -”

“You do not have to growl every time you say my name, Cure.”

The colt chews his lip for a moment. Celestia watches on impassively as his jaw works from side to side. Finally, he continues, “you wrote that I could have started a freaking war!”

“And you could have. It is theoretically possible. I also pointed out that it is a very unlikely result and, more likely, would have been used as some kind of bargaining chip instead.”

“You could have just put that in there!”

“I could have,” she agrees. “That does not preclude the possibility that the outcome could have been far worse. What if you had accidentally hurt somepony, Cure? What if you had been forced to fight your way out?”

“I had a spare minotaur body on standby just in case!”

The mare facehooves, shaking her head in disbelief. After another deep sigh, she argues, “I do not know if that would be any better! Instead of you being rightly blamed, they would have instead held the minotaurs accountable for something they had no part in!”

Scoffing, Cure shrugs his wings indifferently. “Sounds like their problem, not ours.”

“Cure!”

“What?!”

“You. Can. Not. Do. These. Things. Do you understand? You cannot cause disharmony and chaos amongst nations simply because it is easier than accepting responsibility for your own actions!”

“Woah, woah, woah!” he shouts, holding his hooves up placatingly. “Who said anything about causing chaos? The zebras would be a bit miffed, granted, but it would just be a case of he-said-she-said with no hard evidence one way or the other.”

“And how many lives will be lost or damaged as a result? What is an acceptable number, Cure? Tell me, what do you think will happen in Zebrica when word gets back that a rogue shaman, apparently acting on behalf of you, accosted their own ambassador?”

“Okay, first off, nopony was ‘apparently’ acting on my behalf at all. I made it very clear that no creature would be better off with the Alicorn of Life going off the deep end. That’s not acting on my behalf, that’s acting on everyone’s behalf.”

Celestia closes her eyes and leans her head back, seemingly looking up to the heavens for help. She sits there quietly for several long moments, all the while the colt shifts uncomfortably after leaving the ancient mare at a loss for words. Finally, after a couple minutes of silence, the mare opens her eyes and looks back down at the colt. To her relief, gone are the waves of fury flowing freely from his mane and tail. Instead of the righteous indignation or anger from before, she only sees regret and, perhaps, a hint of shame.

“We must be better, Cure. We have to be. You are still young, I know, and despite whatever other experiences you have, you cannot tell me that, objectively,” she stresses, “your ability to make mature decisions is infallible.”

“Well, no,” he mulishly admits, “but you can’t tell me that even you, with your hundreds of years of experience, never make bad decisions either.”

“I have never claimed to be perfect, but,” she rushes to add, heading off any claim of victory he may seek, “I also do my best to not make important decisions without consulting others. I know that, because of my long life, I will inevitably see things differently, and my own biases may lead me to an unwise choice. I do not make decisions that will impact millions of souls unilaterally, and Neither. Can. You. No one being should.”

Finally, the last bit of tension seems to drain from the colt entirely, and a look of defeat settles in. Brushing the discarded knife to the side, Celestia scoots closer on her barrel and wraps her forelegs around the colt, pulling him tightly against her chest. It takes a few minutes of cuddling before he finally reacts at all, but Celestia can’t help but smile when he finally nuzzles his cheek against her and buries his snout in her coat.

Finally breaking the silence, she softly asks, “If I may ask, what is to be your punishment?”

“I’m grounded,” he grumps into her fur. “Sort of, at least. Dam says no more using my rings except for when I’m being Serpentus.”

Still speaking softly, she observes, “A rather mild sentence, all things considered.”

“I guess,” he weakly agrees. “She was pretty upset. Said she doesn’t even know what else to do.” A loud sniffle cuts through the otherwise silence of the realm. “She said she never thought her son would do something like threaten somepony in their own home.”

The mare is grateful he cannot see her expression from below. Even with her centuries of experience maintaining her stoicism, that statement alone draws a sympathetic wince. “I do not think she meant it how you are interpreting it, Cure. I am sure she was just upset.”

“Don’t forget disappointed. She tossed that one out there more than a few times.”

“All things are temporary,” she says, leaning down to nose at his mane. “Things will go back to normal within a few days. You will see. She is just worried for you, that is all. You have had so, so much happen in your life in such a short time, little of which she can control.”

“I know.”

“Just be better, Cure. For everypony’s sake, including your own.”

“I know,” he repeats, laying his head across her thigh.

The two sit in silence for several minutes when she notices the colt seems to be on the verge of falling asleep. “Cure? I think you may need to go to bed. I am sure today has been exhausting for you.”

He nods into her foreleg and lets out a jaw-cracking yawn. “Yeah, I guess so. Sorry I was being a dick, Tia.”

“I am used to it,” she teases.

His eyes flick up in a scowl that falters upon seeing her smile. “Whatever. Goodnight, boss,” he says, bonking his brow into her leg.

“And a good night to you, Cure Wave,” she replies, watching as he slips back into the material plane.

Author's Note

This chapter is coming to you late due to the Illuminate invasion. I would have published it at least a week ago, but I had to shoot a bunch of aliens in the face to preserve freedom and managed democracy.

Well I hope everyone's had a happy holiday season. I swore to myself that I would get at least one more chapter out before the end of the year. I try not to do the whole "I didn't like X" thing in my chapters, but there's a section of this chapter I'm not super fond of. I avoid doing past tense stuff as much as I can, but the chapter was already running longer than I was shooting for and I really wanted to publish it today.

I don't really think I have a whole lot else to add about the chapter, so I suppose that's good enough for now.

Everyone have a safe & happy new year, and I'll see you all back again in January!

As always, thanks for reading, rating, and especially commenting. Take care!

Chapter 124: PreFilly Friday

Friday, September 18th, 909 AB (Four days later)
Late afternoon / early evening

“A cutie mark?” Cure echoes, head tilted to the side inquisitively. He allows his eyes to flick down the older foal’s side, automatically glancing to the blank spot that a mark will eventually occupy. “I’m pretty sure even the princess can’t give you that, so I’m guessing you mean a cosmetic one,” he confusedly suggests.

Bobbing her head excitedly, the filly exclaims, “Exactly! I just need something to hold me over until I get my real one!” Given her age, Cure suspects that could happen at any time. Almost certainly within the next year or two. He’ll have a better idea of how old she is once he scans her with his talent, but at a glance he’s sure she is at least fourteen.

The young mare is barely a hair shorter than her dam, the relationship of whom he can confirm via scent alone. Unlike her dam, however, she still hasn’t completely filled out in her legs, hips, and barrel. Her wings, on the other hoof, look like they are just about fully grown. Either that or she’ll end up with a wider span than is normal, which is, in itself, a highly desirable trait amongst every flying being Cure has met so far.

The young mare shifts on her barrel, bumping against her dam’s side on the couch the two are sharing. Her dam’s left wing instinctively unfurls, hugging her daughter closer as the girl continues, “We’ve talked about different designs, so I’m pretty sure I know which one I want.”

She twists to her left, digging into her satchel to remove a few sheets of paper. Each has a drawing of a proposed cutie mark on it, most of them fairly similar to her dam’s piano mark, but with slight alterations here or there. All of them are rather amateurishly drawn, which is slightly inconvenient; it would have been easier for him to exactly duplicate a drawn design instead of having to clean it up himself.

Unaware of his internal pondering, she continues, “Windy said you can show us what they’d look like before doing the real thing.” She takes a half second to look around as if the girl will pop out of the wall at any second. Given it’s close to closing time, that’s not a complete impossibility, though she knows better than to interrupt him while he’s with a client.

“I can,” he confirms, “but it does kind of make me wonder what’ll happen when you get your actual cutie mark?”

“Why?” her dam interjects, a hint of worry in her voice. “Has somepony had something go wrong before?”

“No,” he quickly assures her, forehooves urgently waving away the concern. “This is the first time I’ve had somepony ask for a cosmetic cutie mark. I haven’t had a lot of ponies ask me to alter their foals’ coats, at least not permanently, but I have had a few.” Dawn immediately springs to mind with her recently darkened colors. “I would assume the cutie mark would just… ya know… overwrite whatever is already there.”

“What if they don’t line up?” the daughter wonders aloud. Dawning horror painted across her features, she cries in a panic, “I might end up with part of the fake sticking out the sides of the real one!”

“I could fix that, don’t worry. I can’t alter the mark itself, but I can change your coat around it. That includes anything that is under the mark. If I couldn’t then I would never be able to change anypony’s coat color too far from their original.”

“Why not- Oh!” the young mare exclaims. “Because then they’d have a patch of their original color under their mark!”

“Exactly. If your real mark doesn’t completely cover the cosmetic one then I’ll fix it for free, no problem. I do have another concern, though. I mean, I don’t care, myself, but I’m a little worried that some ponies may give you a bit of a hard time if they realize you had somepony give you a mark that is… well, counterfeit, for lack of a better word.”

Rolling her eyes, she dismisses the concern with a shake of her head. “I’m not worried about that. I already told my friends I was going to see about getting this done. Hay, Windy is the one who told me to come to you.”

“Fair enough. The only question, then, is whether or not giving somepony a cutie mark that isn’t real would be illegal.”

“Illegal?! What?!” Cure shrugs and nods in affirmation. “Why?!” she shrilly inquires, her high pitched voice grating on his heightened hearing.

Her dam frowns in consideration, voicing exactly what the colt had realized. “Identification. The government uses your cutie mark as a form of identification. So do banks.”

“That’s actually something I prob- err, somepony should probably point out to the ponies in charge. Banking, especially. I’d be livid if the bank let somepony take money out of my account ‘cause they faked my cutie mark.”

“I bet you would,” her dam understandingly agrees. Smiling mischievously, she suggests, “A little entrepreneur such as yourself… I bet you have quite the savings, don’t you?” She glances to her daughter out of the corner of her eye and adds, “Sorry if this is slightly off topic, but do you happen to have yourself a fillyfriend already? You may be a bit young for my little Forte, but good colts are hard to find, especially ones that are so industrious!”

Cure barely opens his mouth to decline, but the filly in question beats him to the punch. Recoiling away from her dam’s side, she gives the mare a look of disgust. “DAM! SERIOUSLY?! GROSS!” The colt’s features shift into a frown as his mouth clicks shut. Realizing the faux pas, the filly is quick to add, “No offense!” and holds her hooves up in placation. “I’m sure you’re a very sweet young stallion, but I prefer ponies with wings.”

“None taken,” he flatly replies. Eyes flicking back to the elder, he continues, “And I do have a few fillyfriends already, but thank you for the… uhh… offer?” The mare smiles warmly and nods in acceptance.

“Right,” Forte firmly nods. “Windy said you and her sister are a thing.” She gives him another quick up-down look over and quietly snorts. “Seems weird to me, but whatever.”

Cure briefly considers tossing the filly out on her ass and telling her to never come back, but holds off when her dam cuffs her with her wing and shoots her a look of disappointment. “You apologize this instant! I don’t care what your mother says, there’s nothing wrong with dating outside of your tribe!”

“I didn’t say there was! I just don’t get it why-”

“Anyhow,” he calls in a raised voice, unwilling to waste any more time on an argument, “back to the topic at hoof. One of my other fillyfriends happens to be the daughter of a local sergeant. I don’t think he’ll care if I Send him a message to see if it’s legal. That is, assuming you don’t mind waiting a minute.”

Cure notes that Forte’s snout seems to be stuck in a permanently scrunched state as she settles back by her dam, who nods permissively. “That would be wonderful, if you could.”

“Sure. Gimme a sec.”

<< Hey sarge, got a sec? >>

A moment passes before he feels the stallion’s dry response. << Certainly, your highness. How can this lowly one serve, my liege? >>

A soft sigh escapes the colt’s lips. “He thinks he’s funny,” he quietly grumbles.

<< It’s about damn time I got the proper respect around here! Seriously, though, can I give somepony a fake cutie mark? I have a customer who says she wants one until her real one shows up. >>

<< How old is she? >>

“Just to confirm, you are fourteen, right?”

“Mhm. I’ll be fifteen in January.”

“Alright. One sec.”

<< She turns fifteen in January. >>

Another moment ticks by. Both mares are looking at Cure expectantly. “I asked him. He got the message. I’m assuming he’s not sure, though,” he explains. “I bet he’s asking somepony else.”

“Shouldn’t a sergeant know?” Forte asks. Her tone is a little accusatory, but Cure dismisses it rather than point out that he’s a guard, not a lawmaker and that she should be grateful that he’s taking the time to respond rather than sending her to an attorney or the courts to figure it out herself.

Thankfully her dam is more reasonable, pointing out, “I doubt it comes up often, honey. He may be looking it up. We’re fortunate he has somepony to check with.”

“I guess…” she pouts with a huff.

Finally, after another long minute of waiting, the sergeant’s voice echoes in his mind, << We’re pretty sure that it’s okay as long as your customer isn’t impersonating somepony or pretending to be an adult. We’ll need the usual paperwork. >>

<< Cool. Thanks, sarge! >>

<< This one lives to serve, your highness. >>

<< Ha. Ha. You’re a riot. >>

An odd feeling of amused smugness is conveyed to his mind, leaving the young alicorn wondering how in the hay ponies manage to Send feelings via the spell without any words. He focuses back on the crystal, briefly fighting the temptation to Send the sound of a powerful, cheek-slapping fart in response. Fortunately, his maturity wins out before he commits to the action. A prince of the realm probably shouldn’t be Sending fart noises to his subordinates, and that’s definitely not something he’s fully comfortable doing to the sire of a filly he’s basically dating.

“So good news. According to the sergeant, Sgt. Gleaming Haze, by the way, you’re good to go as long as A, you don’t try to impersonate anypony-”

“I wouldn’t!”

“- B, you don’t use it to pretend you’re an adult-”

“Why would I even want to?”

“Buying alcohol?” Cure suggests. “I dunno, it’s the only thing that comes to mind right away.”

The filly’s snout scrunches in distaste and she looks at him like he’s an idiot. “Gross. No way.” Her dam looks somewhere between relieved and perhaps slightly guilty. He wonders if that’s because she didn’t even consider that possibility or if maybe she has some fun stories that might involve her getting her hooves on some booze when she was younger.

“Okay,” he accepts with a shrug, “and finally, C, you are okay with the Guard being made aware.” Right hoof held out to stave off any interruption, he explains, “That’s a standard thing I have to do whenever I significantly alter somepony’s appearance, and even if a cutie mark isn’t very large, they probably need to know because of the whole identity thing.”

“That’s okay! I don’t care!” she quickly assures him.

“Good deal. Now, since all I’m doing is altering a small part of your coat it’ll only be fifty bits.”

Forte digs back into her satchel, scrounging up enough coins to pay his bill. The collection of singles, fives, and a single ten make him feel a little guilty for charging at all, but he strangles the flare up of generosity in its crib and accepts the coins from the girl. Maybe if she hadn’t been a bit of an entitled bitch he would do her a favor, but she’s blown that opportunity quite soundly with her rudeness.

He makes his way to his desk to grab everything he needs, leaving her payment sitting on top, then passes her dam one of his ballpoint pens and the form with the scanning disclaimer on it. She looks at the metal pen curiously, arching a brow at him when he pantomimes writing with it. “A replacement for quills I created. It has its own internal inkwell. The patent is still pending.”

“An inventor too?” she coos, leaning down to nose at the crown of his head. “Goodness me! So young and already working so hard! No wonder some lucky fillies have already staked their claim!”

“Dam! Quit it!” Affecting a slight blush, he demurely turns to her filly, finding her looking at her dam with disgust and embarrassment.

Awkwardly clearing his throat, he suggests, “While she’s doing that, we can go ahead and get started.”

Eager to jump at any reason to change the subject, the filly hops down to sit next to the colt. “Great! What do you need me to do?”

“Just tell me which one you like the best.” Crystal in hoof, Cure sits on his haunches on the floor just to the right of the girl, somewhat between her and her dam so they all have the same view. He projects an Illusion of her standing sideways, facing to their right with her wings lifted up. It’s not quite perfect since he hasn’t used his talent on her yet, but nopony is focusing on the minute differences in the lay of her feathers, or her mane, tail, or face. Instead, all three ponies are paying attention to the spot just below her right thigh.

It takes longer than Cure had hoped to find a design she really likes; long enough that he is sure he’ll never advertise this as a service, given it’s disproportionately low cost. The only reason he may consider doing it at all is because of a niggling thought in the back of his mind. Is there any chance in the world that, maybe, when the filly finally gets her mark, it will look exactly like the image she is choosing?

Her reaction makes him wonder if some guiding force may have lent a hoof. The mark itself is no more special to him than any other; a top down view of eight piano keys in a waving arc pattern with feathers splayed open, their tips laid out as if playing the instrument.

Forte goes stock still and wide-eyed when he finally applies the mark. The quick inhale and squeal of elation an instant later is the only warning he has to prepare for the ecstatic tackle hug she wraps him in. He doesn’t mind. After all, if a young filly wants to damn near hump him into the floor then it’s his Harmony granted duty to oblige her, even if she seems like kind of a douche.

He’s relieved the Sound Bubble is active while she tries to squeeze the life out of him; a bright flash on the opposite side of the room’s divider signals the arrival of the filly that sent her his way. It also shocks the filly out of her celebration, momentarily drawing everypony’s attention to the ceiling above the lobby.

“What was that?!” the girl urgently asks, launching herself away from the colt.

“Probably Wind Shear. She usually drops by Friday afternoons to check in.” He looks between her and the divider gap near the back wall and waves a hoof in invitation. “If you want, you could go show her. I think we’re done here unless there’s something else I can do for you.”

“Nope! Thanks!” she chirps out, not hesitating to rush around the barrier.

Cure watches her go, noting that her dam has joined him on the floor. She leans over to wrap him in a much more sedate and friendly embrace. “Thank you very much, young stallion. I know my little Forte can be a bit… blunt at times.”

“Oh, I wouldn’t worry about that at all,” he insists, leaning into the hug, “after all, I have a bit of a thing for wings, myself.” Huskily he adds, “Not to mention more… mature ladies.”

So caught off guard by his flirtatious response, she fails to hold back her laugh and barks a loud “HAH!” right between his ears. That’s fine with him. Her soft underside shaking in amusement feels pretty nice on his back. Finally getting herself under control, she gives him one last squeeze before peeling away to make for the exit.

Gasping in mock offense, she recoils away with her hoof held to her chest. “You little cad, flirting with a married mare! Have you no shame?!”

“None at all!” he chirps, averting his gaze when she prances away. A little playful flirting is one thing, but trying to sneak a peek on a married mare is going way too far.

The sounds of conversation washes over him when he turns off the privacy spell. It seems like Wind Shear is almost as excited for Forte as the filly is for herself. Uninterested in joining that whole mess, Cure waits somewhat impatiently for his customers to leave.

“Jeez, finally,” he sighs, trotting to the filly once they’re gone. A little hop sees him join her on the coach where he flops against her right side. Wind grunts and shoots the heavy colt a brief scowl, but otherwise doesn’t complain. “Long time, no see, Windy.”

“Don’t start, brat.”

“What?” he asks, voice drying in faux innocence. “Your friend called you Windy. We’re friends, aren’t we?”

“Barely.”

“Yer breakin my heart, here, Windy. Dunno why you can’t be nice like your dear little sister.”

The filly scoffs. Hard.

“I meant Swirl, obviously. Drift?” He wobbles a hoof in the air from side to side. “Ehhh, she has her moments.”

She snorts a laugh, nodding in agreement. “I’ll be sure to tell her you said so.”

“That’s fine. She’s more fun when she gets all confrontational. She’s like an angry purple kitten, hissing and swiping her claws through the air. It’s cute,” he admits, smiling fondly at the idea of riling up the surly filly.

She shifts, climbing onto his right side to look down on him. “She is my little sister, you do realize?”

“Aww, so adooorable!” he teases, grinning victoriously up at the young mare. “Look at you, all protective and shit. I didn’t think you had it in you, Wind.”

She waves a hoof menacingly in his face, knowing full well she doesn’t stand a chance of doing anything he doesn’t let her. “Don’t make me hurt you, brat!”

Hooves held up in surrender, he assures her, “I’m not making fun of you. Much. I’ve just never seen this side of ya. All protective and big-sistery and stuff. It’s cute.”

“Well don’t get used to it!” she growls, poking at his cheek with her snout. It’s not a hard jab, but it’s forceful enough that nopony could mistake it for affection.

“Sure, sure. Don’t sweat it, Wind. It’s not like I’m one to talk when it comes to keeping family safe. I have, on occasion, been known to resort to extreme measures.”

She spends a good few seconds staring at him, searching for any sign that he’s being sarcastic. Once satisfied, she gives a single nod of approval and settles back down across his side. The pair are fine hanging out for a moment and enjoying the peace and quiet.

“Getting a fake cutie mark is fucking retarded,” he finally blurts out, earning a choked laugh from the older girl.

It takes her a few seconds to get her laughter under control before she nods in agreement. “It really is. What’s she going to tell everypony when she gets her real one?! They’re going to call her a fraud!”

“Probably.”

“Why’d you agree to do it then?!”

“I pointed out that I thought it was a bad idea. Neither of them objected, so it’s not my problem. It’s not like I mutilated her or something. Besides, I’m not the friggin good idea police going around to stop people from being dumb. If she asked me for another eye in the middle of her forehead or something nutty, that might be different, but she didnt, so…” he drifts off with a shrug.

“Whatever. The important thing is that she counts as a referral. Pay up.”

Cure huffs and rolls his eyes, but dutifully pays the girl nonetheless. A flash of light between her forehooves heralds the arrival of a jangling pouch of bits. “There. Happy?”

“Not really,” she grumps, sitting up to drop it into her foreleg pocket. “I’m not going to be able to work as much now. I hardly have any time during the day thanks to school.”

“So?”

“So I’m not going to get paid as much!” she growls, jabbing his withers with her left foreleg knee. The colt’s puppet doesn’t budge or react at all which only seems to annoy her further.

“Again, so? It’s not like you have a lot of expenses. And what ever happened with the whole modeling thing?”

“I’m still doing it!” she defensively proclaims. Snout smugly raised into the air, she brags, “In fact, I had a really important gig while you were away.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah!”

“Who for?”

“That’s none of your business.”

Smirking up at the girl, he sympathetically asks, “That embarrassing, huh?”

“No!”

“Well then you shouldn’t mind sharing.”

“I don’t!”

“Then what was it?”

“Figure it out yourself, mister know-it-all!”

“Jeez! Alright. Do you at least get like… a discount from whoever you advertised for?”

She frowns deeply and shrugs her wings. “Who cares? It doesn’t matter.”

“Sure it does. I mean, maybe not while I’m nearby, but it would be good to know just in case you ever were to get lice in the future,” he argues, smiling his broadest grin up at the pegasus.

Wind goes stock still and her whole body tenses as a deep blush spreads down her face and her neck. Her wings shoot out and she lets loose a savage growl, leaping up to pounce on the impudent wretch that dares to mock her. Laughing uproariously, the colt greets her lunge with open legs, wrapping himself around her barrel so tightly she can’t shake him off.

With an inarticulate scream of fury, the filly writhes and bucks trying to dislodge the colt from her tummy. All she accomplishes is sending the pair rolling off the couch in a tight, one sided embrace. Cure is careful to ensure they land on his puppet rather than risk smashing the older filly. He immediately throws his weight to the side, rolling them over so she’s flat on her back. With her legs trapped by his and his chin against her neck, her only way to attack is with her wings. While pegasus wings are plenty strong enough to ring somepony’s bell, with no leverage or room to build up momentum they might as well be massaging the colt’s sides.

He feels her arch her back and is caught by surprise when she humps back into him, whipping his rear with her tail as best she can. All it really serves to accomplish is to smash the puppet’s balls into her teats, but he still huffs out a complaint. “Hey! That could have actually stung a little!”

“Good!” she huffs, though it lacks any real heat.

“You’re being kind of a butt, ya know?”

The filly shoves at his head with her neck as best she can, growling, “You started it!”

“I’m pretty sure I didn’t,” he calmly replies. “I teased you and you pounced on me.” He pinches the side of her neck between his lips, arguing, “Words, Wind Shear. We use words in a civilized society. Now, are you going to be a good little filly if I let you go?”

“Get off’a me!” she poutily demands, writhing uselessly in his grasp.

Carefully avoiding stepping on a wing, Cure releases her and hops off to the side, smiling victoriously as she less gracefully rolls to her hooves. “Fuckin bullshit alicorn brat,” she grumbles under her breath, brushing her coat back into place with her forelegs. She pauses to look at her wings, crying in dismay at their disheveled state. “You!” she snarls, thrusting a hoof at the younger foal. “My wings are a mess because of you!”

“Again, not really my fault.”

“You’re making it up to me!”

“Really? What kinda retarded logic is that? What Is this? Some kinda tsundere bullshit or something?”

Wind looks momentarily confused at the unfamiliar term. She rallies quickly enough, asking, “You’re going to Filly tomorrow, right?”

“You know I am.”

“Good. I’m coming, too.”

“What? Why?!”

“To work, idiot!”

“What?” he demands, “You’re going to go around and get referrals for me? I’m only there for nine hours and I’ve been running an ad for weeks!”

“To work your stall while you do your thing!” She smiles and ruffles up her wings, smoothly swaying from side to side with small steps. “You need somepony beautiful to attract all the customers.” Wind spreads her wings up high, thrusts her chest out, inclines her head, and strikes a pose with her front right and hind left legs raised as if mid-prance and beams, “Somepony. Like. Me!”

“Somepony’s gotten pretty full of herself,” he dryly remarks.

“I don’t hear you denying it,” she points out, brow arched in challenge.

“Uh huh. FYI, that,” he waves at her pose, “is more effective when your wings don’t look like you’ve been through a tornado or two.”

She drops the pose and shoots him a glare. “Then fix them! It’ll only take you a second.”

He rolls his eyes and sighs in exasperation, but still complies with the girl’s demand. “Seriously, now, why do you want to come to Filly with me?”

“I was being serious. To work. I don’t have anything going on tomorrow and I’d rather pick up some extra bits. I figure you could use the help, too. You’re coming back right after the market closes, aren’t you?”

“Yeah. We’ll probably be home by six or so. Maybe a little later if we get food first.”

“Great! When are we leaving?”

“Probably a little after six thirty. I want to be in Fillydelphia before sunrise and at the market by eight so I have time to set up. How much are you expecting me to pay you?”

“Five hundred.”

“Fuck you! Five hundred bits, my ass!”

“I’m a model! You’re not just hiring some dumb shop attendant!”

“Five hundred bits, though?! How much did you get ‘modeling’ for Dr. Olive’s Lice Ointment, hmmmm?”

Her face pinches in an ugly scowl and she grumbles something under her breath.

“What was that?” he asks, smirking knowingly. “Did I hear fifty bits?”

“You suck! You’re gonna make tens of thousands of bits tomorrow!”

“I damn well better! I’ve spent twelve grand on advertising and another twelve hundred on private security!” The filly chokes on air upon hearing the ridiculous expenses. “I’ll tell ya what. It’ll be about eight hours of work. I’ll pay you two hundred and fifty, which is a little over one and a half times what I was originally getting paid at the clinic. Assuming,” he paused to emphasize, “your parents are fine with you coming.”

“They will be!”

“Fine, then. Have one of them use your Sending crystal to message me or my parents. Are they okay with you flying over in the dark or are you going to come over tonight and sleep at my house?”

Unprepared for the suggestion, she blinks and asks, “Your parents would be okay with that?”

“Duh? Why wouldn’t they?”

“I’m almost fifteen, moron.”

“So? I’m nine. What’s your point?”

Wind stares at the colt for a full five seconds, waiting for some kind of punch line or follow-up remark. When she realizes he is one hundred percent earnest and has said everything he feels he needs to she sighs and nods in acceptance. “Alright. I’ll probably be by a little before sunset, then.”

A couple hours later

“Woooosh! Wooooo! Woooaaah!” Title playfully exclaims, holding her daughter in the air as she slowly shifts from one side to the other while laying on her back. The little filly giggles happy, all six appendages spread out as she dodges illusory clouds slowly floating through the air.

A larger one materializes out of the wall, headed in her direction. “Oh no!” the mare shouts in alarm, “it’s too big to go around! Up, Savvy, go over it!” Warning given, she gently thrusts the filly into the air and pulls leg down to avoid the Illusion. The earth pegasus doesn’t miss a beat, flapping a little faster than before to soar over the stormy cloud.

“Good job, Savvy baby! It’s safe now!” her dam encourages from below, holding her foreleg back out for the filly to land tummy-first. The girl, it seems, has something else in mind, tilting to the right before cutting off her flight. Much more quickly than either parent had foreseen, the filly falls like a stone headed right for her sire and crashes hooves-first onto his back.

“Ahh! I’m under attack!” the dark stallion cries in dismay, hopping to his hooves and beginning to buck. For a stallion as large and powerful as Deed, playing the part of the bucking bronco inside the house is a genuine act of careful restraint. He almost lethargically bounces around the room, playfully launching his hind legs into the air, then slowly rearing up to flail his forelegs without accidentally causing any destruction.

Sat on his withers and giggling up a storm, Savvy holds on like a champ with her forelegs barely wrapped a third of the way around his thick neck and her face buried under his mane. Unwilling to sit idle and miss out on the fun, Cherry and Lotus explode into action, slipping away from Lemon’s side to help their sister bring the wild steed to heel. Both fillies launch themselves into the fray, leaping at their father’s side to wrestle him to the ground. The sudden motion draws Golden and Blazer’s attention, but they both watch sedately lounging against Lemon’s side.

Amethyst and Vines both pause their work in the kitchen, stopping for a moment to watch Deed as he plays with their foals. The two smile fondly, thrilled beyond words to have such a loving, joyful husband in their lives.

“It’ll take more’n that ta bring me down!” Deed defiantly shouts. He carefully pushes both girls onto his back with his telekinesis while running and bucking in circles around the room, whinnying and feigning growing exhaustion until finally collapsing in a heap on the floor. “Maybe… not… blergh!” he cries, accepting defeat. Sprawled out in a heap beside his pink wife, the stallion groans under the fillies’ combined assault. Having felled their fearsome foe, the three celebrate their victory by stomping all over his back while cheering.

Clapping her forehooves in cheer, Lemon praises the girls. “Good job, you three! Way to show that stallion who’s boss!”

“Yeah, good job,” Title agrees, “but we still need him to work, so maybe not stomp so hard, hmm?”

Grateful for slightly lessened assault, Deed leans over to kiss his wife’s cheek. “Thanks, beautiful. Yer a lifesaver!”

“Mhmm. Maybe you can show your gratitude when you get home from the pub.”

He gives a meaningful sniff and raises a brow, arguing, “I ain’t so sure that’s a good idea. Not unless ya had the colt do his thing.”

“Yeah, it’s our turn now,” his other wife insists, narrowing her eyes at the mare.

Title leans over and nips at her stallion’s neck, then gives the spot she pinched a little lick, peering at the yellow mare out of the corner of her eyes. “There’s enough of him to go around. Now.”

“Were always more’n enough, by my reckonin,” he quietly grumbles.

Continuing without acknowledging his comment, she adds, “You can have him first, but ya ain’t leavin us high and dry without any relief. And yes,” she says, turning back to Deed, “Cure took care of the two of us. Weird Vines had it hit so soon after having the twins.”

A flash from the stairway and a muted thump above interrupt her train of thought, and all eight heads swivel in response. The three little predators share a look before coming to an unspoken agreement, jumping off of their beleaguered conquest to get in position for an attack, hiding at the base of the steps in the hallway leading to Cure’s office.

Unfortunately for the little miscreants, little within the young alicorn’s domain escapes his notice. He strips off his suit and royal attire and removes his disguise, then Teleports a second time down to his office. A quick application of his power pads the bottom of his hooves, and he quietly slips out the door to ambush his ambushers. A deep well of playfully malicious glee surges within his chest as he slips behind them and gives his parents a wink.

Mimicking Cherry’s voice, he leans his head over the girls and asks, “What’s taking him so long?”

Lotus is quick to grab her sister’s muzzle, clamping it shut while hissing, “SHH! He’ll hear you, dummy! He hears everything!”

Once she releases Cherry from her grip, the cream girl leans closer to whisper, “But I didn’t say anything!”

Now in Lotus’s voice, Cure responds, “Yeah you did! Now be quiet!”

The darker of the two blinks in confusion. She’s pretty sure she didn’t say anything, even if she was thinking it. “Wait,” she whispers, head tilted in thought, “did I just say that out loud? It kind of sounded like me, but not quite.”

Her sister nods in confirmation, but it’s her own voice that gives her doubs. “It was definitely you, Lotus Bloom.”

“Yeah,” her sister agrees, nodding once again.

“Didn’t know the fillies talked to themselves,” Lemon comments from the couch, sending the three parents into a fit of laughter.

Slowly, as if she is piecing together a complex puzzle, realization dawns on the filly, helped in part by their amusement. Ears folding back against her head, she risks a glance up, distraught to find a pair of brown eyes smiling down from above.

“Cherry!” she hisses, reaching to her right to poke at her sister.

“You’re the one being noisy now!”

“Cherry!”

Looking to her left, her sister quietly hisses, “What?!” Seeing the dark red filly staring up above them, she risks a glance up as well.

“Good luck!” Lotus shouts, bursting into motion. In a single bound, the dark filly launches herself over Savvy, diving to safety between her mother and father.

“Hello there, Cherry bear~,” Cure menacingly growls, lowering his head and bending his forelegs to ready for a pounce.

“Eep!” Instead of running away, the filly whips back around, grabs her younger sister under her wings, and spins her back to face her brother. “Do it, Savvy! Quick!”

Executing an apparently well rehearsed move, the earth pegasus spreads her wings and forelegs wide, peering into the alicorn’s very soul with big, beautiful, watery eyes. Her little, high pitched voice squeaks out, “Luvv yuu!”

Frozen momentarily in surprise, Cure does his best to maintain his stoic facade. His eyes flick back and forth between the pair. Cherry keeps her hopeful, innocent smile while Savvy’s bottom lip begins to quiver, saddened by her brother’s apparent rejection.

“That’s dirty,” he quietly grouses, though he still sits on his haunches and scoops the filly up from her sister and wraps her up in his wings, squeezing her gently against his chest.

“I think you meant ‘smart,’ colt,” Lemon points out.

“It can be both,” he argues, ending the hug and shuffling the girl onto his back. Wings held level for Savvy to bounce around, he makes his way over to the couch to nose at the twins. “How are my two most favorite siblings that would never, ever gang up on their sweet, doting older brother doing, hmm?”

A cream maned head shoots up from between Title and Deed, shouting, “It was Savvy’s idea!”

While the parents all laugh at the suggestion, Cure shakes his head in disappointment. “Really, Lotus? Blaming a foal that’s not even a year old? Lying fillies don’t get to go for flights after dinner with their big brothers, you know?”

Her ears fold back flat on her head, eyes go wide, and jaw nearly lands on Deed’s back. Scrambling out of the pile, she throws herself around his hind leg, pleading, “I’M SORRY! PLEEEEAAASE DON’T LEAVE MEEEEE!”

“For Harmony’s sake, Lotus,” he sighs, rolling his eyes, “being a little overly dramatic, dontchya think?” The filly only wraps herself tighter around his leg, apparently not understanding what her brother means. He pulls his leg free and takes a step back, plopping down to trap the girl between his forelegs. Nuzzling into her mane, he gives her ears each a few licks and mumbles, “Aww… I can never stay mad at my adorable little sister. But,” he amends just as she starts to cheer. He motions to the three parents in the room, reminding her, “you’ll have to ask them if you’re allowed. Same for you, Cherry.”

“Same fer you too, son,” his sire adds. “Last I checked yer lil blue hiney was grounded.”

“Aww come on!” he foalishly whines. “It’s been a whole friggin week!”

“It’s been five days, you big baby!” Title tactlessly corrects. “What do you expect given what you did?!”

“Gratitude?” he suggests, huffing in annoyance. “Maybe appreciation for how much I care? Plenty ‘a ponies’ll say they’ll go to war for their family. How many would put their money where their mouth is?”

“Put your… what?” Title asks, a single brow raised in question. She dismisses the thought with a shake of her head and points out, “Not many, but that’s cause most ponies aren’t crazy enough to risk ticking off you-know-who.” Her eyes briefly flick to Cherry who has joined Savvy dancing on Cure’s back, then to Lotus still pinned under his chest and between his forelegs. The sisters know that he did something he wasn’t supposed to while he was away, but they’re still too young to trust with the details and wouldn’t truly understand even if they were told.

“Here’s a suggestion,” she continues, “how ‘bout instead of restarting that whole argument, you accept the fact that you did something your dam doesn’t approve of and take the punishment like a stallion should?”

“Sound advice,” his sire agrees. “Ain’t nothin ta win by bringin that up again, son. You’ll just dig yer hole that much deeper.”

“Fine. Whatever. Slightly related, Wind Shear came by to collect her commission today. She asked if she could come with us tomorrow and mare my shop while I’m seeing customers for consultations.”

“Thought ya had somethin auto-mat-tic like fer that,” his sire inquires, sounding out the word piece by piece.

“I do, but it does take some concentration. She’s grumbling about not making as much ‘cause of school, so she asked if I’d pay her to come with us.”

“And Celestia knows ya can’t say no to a pretty filly,” Lemon knowingly teases.

Figuring that there must be more to the story, Title waves a hoof in invitation. “Okay. So? What’s that got to do with you being grounded?”

“We’re leaving before dawn tomorrow,” he explains, “so instead of having her fly over in the dark, I told her to come spend the night.”

“Bold, colt,” Deed teases with a chuckle. Cure can’t help but notice the approving tone in his sire’s voice. “Reckon Crosswind’ll have somethin ta say ‘bout that, though. Not ta mention yer dam.” He pauses a beat and adds, “And maybe, Dawn, I’m guessin.”

“Oh please,” he scoffs, “I just didn’t want her flying in the dark by herself. Wind is way more interested in my bit pouch than my other one-”

Both mares’ faces pinch in disgust and Title comments, “Gross.”

Unperturbed, Cure continues, “-and I think even Drift will agree it’s better to have her safe here than flyin around before sunrise.” All three parents look at him like he’s an idiot. He takes a few seconds to consider the possibility before he realizes that, just maybe, they could be correct. “Okay, so Drift will probably care a little, but once I point out that I only suggested it to keep her sister safe she’ll understand. Maybe.”

“I don’t get it,” Lemon interjects. “What’s not safe about Wind flying at night? The moon will be out. You improved her night vision, didn’t you?”

“Yeah.”

“And she has that subwhatsit layer we all have, right?”

“Mostly. Hers is a little thinner and only on her head, neck, and barrel since she’s not an earth pony, but yeah.”

“And didn’t you give her envenomed barbs under her wings?”

“Well… yeah, I guess?”

“And Shield, Teleport, and Sending crystals?”

“...”

“And doesn’t she fly to school before dawn for most of the winter?”

The colt doesn’t immediately answer, his muzzle scrunching in annoyance. “I hadn’t really thought of that. But!” he rushes to add, “She’s flying with a whole flock of pegasi then. All of the other foals from town commute as a group.”

“Fair enough,” she says, nodding in understanding. “But why not just pick her up on the way from your junior guard thing, though? Doesn’t that end around six?”

Cure reaches up and rubs at his temple with a fetlock, grumbling under his breath. “Frickin forgot about that. It’s been a few very busy weeks, okay!” he defensively pouts. Groaning, he flops down on top of Lotus who flails beneath him, whining in protest. “I haven’t taken Red with me to grandpa’s for over a month, too. I hope she’s not upset.”

“Eh, she’ll understand,” Title dismisses with a shrug. “You need to check with your dam about Wind, though. She may not be happy you invited her over without permission.”

“Fine,” he sighs, nodding in acceptance. Cure rolls to his right, freeing Lotus and sending Savvy and Cherry to the floor in a pile. He keeps rolling, smushing the pair while being careful not to put too much weight on either of them. Once he’s on their other side, he spreads his wings wide and stretches his fore and hind legs in each direction, pretending to accidentally smother the pair in his plumage. “So,” he casually begins, looking up to his sire, “how’d it go? Get everything done?”

The stallion lets his weariness visibly show, leaning heavily against his wife as he groans aloud. “It were awful, colt! They put yer ol’ pa through the wringer, they did! An’ they were busier’n a beaver in a flood, pushin stallions this way ‘n that ta get us all certified or whatnot.”

“Well maybe if somepony hadn’t waited until estrus was in full swing,” Title reproachfully suggests.

“Yeah, yeah, I know. Just cause yer right don’t mean I gotta like hearin it. Dunno why I even hadta go through all that mess. Ain’t necessary fer private contracts anywho.”

“No, it’s not,” his son agrees, “but now the princess can honestly tell ponies that even the alicorn of life’s sire is doing his part to help grow our nation’s stagnating population. Who knows, pa? It may help convince a few more stallions out there to sign up. Besides, was it really that bad? It’s not like they had me helping with that kinda stuff when I worked there.”

The stallion sucks in a deep breath and blows it out in a long, drawn out sigh. “Nah, I s’pose not. When them results came back one’a them nurses was eyein me like a starvin griffin would a salmon, but other’n that it weren’t too bad, I reckon.”

“There’s worse things than being wanted,” Cure points out.

“Wise words, son. Wise words.”

“What all was involved?”

“About what you’d expect. Took my temp, listened ta my ticker, ran some’a them medical scan spells, then collected some… uhh… samples,” he mumbles with a grimace. “They were usin them strips ‘a yers. Nurse said they’re checkin stallions fer ratios now with ‘em.”

“Good. Hopefully they’ll finally be able to pick up on some kinda pattern. As best I can tell so far, there seems to be a higher rate amongst the Guard. Especially pegasi, both day and night, but more the former than the latter. I’ve also noticed a pretty significant difference based on geography. Now, granted, I haven’t had a lot of adult male patients from the western half of the country, but only a hooffull of them have required treatment.” Cure shrugs, jostling the fillies on his back and suggests, “Hopefully I’ll have a better picture after next week, at least as far as tribe demographics and whatnot.”

“Huh. Interestin. We’re darn sure lucky nopony in our family got whatever it is. Speakin’a which, didjya stop by ta see grandpa after work?”

Cure opens his mouth to answer when Amethyst pokes her head back out of the kitchen and hollers across the house, “Dinner’s ‘bout ready! Getchyerselves all cleaned up!”

“Tell ya while we’re eatin,” the colt replies, rolling to his hooves to go wash up. Everypony else scrambles at the same time. Title scoops up Savvy and she, along with Lemon, get the foals all ready while Deed and Cure rush upstairs to use the other bathrooms.

Within a few minutes everypony is seated around the table, piling food in front of themselves. With the arrival of two additional foals, the seating arrangements had shifted. Cure sits with Lotus and Cherry on his left and right respectively, still, but the three of them are on one of the short ends of the table, opposite Deed. Amethyst and Lemon are to their sides, each sitting next to their biological daughter to lend a hoof as needed, which is rarely the case.

The first and second wives sit closer to their husband, not as much because of tradition, but mainly out of convenience. As much as Savvy is a momma’s girl, she seems to listen better to her sire’s deep voice during mealtime. The filly has her own high chair on the corner between her dam and sire.

The twins are still nursing, and will be for several more months. While they don’t always eat at the same time as everypony else, they typically share Vines’ cushion, laying against her tummy or occasionally latching on for a quick snack.

For a few minutes the only noises interrupting the silence are those of quiet chewing and utensils tapping porcelain. Title looks around the table and speaks up, slowly saying, “It’s quiet.”

“A little… too quiet?” Cure playfully inquiries.

Vines exaggerates a sigh, closing her eyes as she starts, “Don’t you dare do anything weird, you two!”

“Weird?!” Cure cries in mock offense. “When have I ever done anything… wait,” he paused mid sentence, ears focused on the ceiling overhead. Voice barely a whisper, he nudges Cherry on his right and asks, “Did you hear that?”

A tiny scratching sound can barely be heard from above, moving from place to place like a mouse darting about between the ceiling and floor.

“Cure!” his dam calls in a scolding tone.

“What, dam?” he innocently asks. Hoof pointing into the air, he says, “It sounds like there’s something in the vents.”

“What vents?” Amethyst demands, casting her gaze up. “There ain’t no vents up there.”

“Sounds too big to be a mouse,” Title notes. Hoof pawing at her chin, she asks, “Think a possum coulda got up there?”

“I dunno, ma. They mostly only come out at night. Mostly.”

“Enough, you two!” his dam growls, waving an empty fork between them. “The foals don’t need to worry about some scary monster skittering about the walls, and Amy and Lemon weren’t here when you told us about that story.” Cure’s face lights up and he begins to draw breath, only to have the pointer-fork thrust more forcefully in his direction. “Which is definitely not an appropriate story for the dinner table!”

Title leans to her left, hoof raised to her muzzle and loudly whispers to Lemon, “The dam in that story was a big grouch too.”

“Not. Helping.” Vines growls out, staring daggers at her first wife.

“Who said I was tryin to?” the pink mare teases, chuckling at her wife’s frustration.

“It’s pretty intense, but if you two want I’ll show ya that one and the prequel before bed,” Cure offers, glancing between his two newer moms. “Ya know, I’ve been thinkin about that a lot lately.”

Brows raised all the way to her mane, Title turns to Cure and asks, “Face impregnating aliens? I really don’t think the princess would appreciate that one, babe.”

“Face… impregnating?” Lemon echoes, muzzle scrunched in disgust.

“Eh, it’s a thriller-slash-horror story,” the alicorn explains with a helpless shrug. “When you think about it, it makes absolutely no sense whatsoever. The entire reproduction method is completely ridiculous. I don’t know if it’s true, but I recall somepony suggested the whole thing was a way to scare males with a kind of assault that they are normally incapable of being the victim of.”

“Cure,” his dam huffs, “what part of not dinner table appropriate did you not hear?”

“The ‘not,’ I suppose?” he cheekily responds. “Seriously, though, I’ll drop it, but to answer your question,” he nods to his first mom, “I mean stories. Media. Comics, moving picture shows, stuff like that. We have a mare with a talent in writing that is going to be, in a way, connected to our family. Possibly more so in the future.”

“Possibly?” Amethyst asks with a snort. “Colt, she’d probly take ya herself if her daughter bowed out.”

Cure only has to ponder a moment before he nods in agreement. From what he witnessed on Tuesday night, Crisp Script seems to be higher up on the horniness scale compared to most. Either way, the idea of eventually pounding out a mare that his sire has already blown a load inside of is distinctly unappealing, even if it is years later.

He somewhat regrets hooking Polished Apple up with his sire for that very reason. The mare is quite a looker and he spent more than a few hours in class letting her perky plot distract him from the otherwise boredom involved with going over lessons he already knew. If he was four or five years older he may not have been so quick to set the pair up, but given he was only eight at the time, his age of majority was too far away for him to be worrying about a single mare, even a pretty one like her, getting away.

“Right. Well, either way, I have millions upon millions of pages worth of stories, the value of which is essentially immeasurable even if they would need significant rewriting to make sense here. Every genre imaginable from the aforementioned horror to comedies, fantasy, and science fiction, which is one that hardly even exists here. The only bummer is that the one that would probably sell the best here is musicals, which I would be of no help at all with.”

“So yer suggestin what, son? That ya sit down with Script an’ give her some ideas ta work on?”

Cure shrugs and bobs his head yes. “I mean… I could. More than simply ideas for some. A lot are way more fleshed out. Like… I dunno, here’s one, for example: So let’s say there’s some crazy alchemist zebra in Manehattan, and she’s being coerced by some kinda crime family or organization to brew up a concoction to make their enforcers bigger and stronger and whatnot, okay?”

“Al… right,” the stallion slowly sounds out, nodding.

“And they’re testing this stuff on different animals since the first time they tested it on a pony it didn’t work right. Instead of gaining a rat’s speed and flexibility, it actually turned the pony into a rat.”

Brow furrowed, the stallion looks to Title and asks, “They can do that?”

“How would I know? Probably?”

“Who cares!” Cure impatiently interrupts. “It’s a story. It doesn’t have to completely make sense.”

“Rats are gross,” Cherry complains. “Why can’t he be a bunny?”

The colt rubs his hoof over his face in frustration. “Fine! He’s a bunny instead. Anyhow, they test it on some turtles and it doesn’t-”

“Turtles?!” Title shouts, interrupting his train of thought. “Why would they test it on turtles of all things? Why not… I dunno… cats or something? Turtles are amphibians.”

“Reptiles,” Cure corrects.

“Right, that’s what I said,” she agrees, “reptiles. Turtles are reptiles, why not test it on another mammal?”

“Who cares?!” he growls out. “It’s. A. STORY.”

Lemon chimes in next, arguing, “I don’t know if super strong cats would be a good idea anyhow. You should pick something that’s not going to turn around and eat you if it works.”

“Bunnies!” Lotus insistently shouts from his left.

“They can’t be bunnies, too!” he cries in dismay.

Head tilted in confusion, she innocently asks, “Why not?”

“Because we already have one bunny,” he insists, reaching across himself to point at the other filly. “Not everything can be bunnies!”

“Dunno why not, colt,” Amethyst argues. “Like Sweets said, bunnies ain’t gonna eatchya first chance they get. Plus, it’d make more sense if that zebra’s concoction turned a stallion inta tha same thing first.”

Both hooves pressed to his face, Cure lets out a quiet growl. “Fine! Everything is freaking bunnies. Four bunnies get tested on and nothing happens, so the gang tosses ‘em down the sewer -”

“That don’t seem like a good way ta get rid’a evidence, colt,” his sire points out. “Would make more sense just ta take ‘em out to tha woods and let ‘em go.”

“No more interruptions!” he declares. Sucking in a lungful of air, he forces the rest of the story out in one long breath, “They get rid of the bunnies too early, they grow up big and strong later, the dude who got bunnified finds them and teaches them to fight, then they go back to take out the leader of the organization that created them and rescue the zebra before they can perfect the formula and make a bunch of super soldiers. THE. END.”

After a few moments of silence, Cherry finally asks, “Are bunnies good fighters?”

“I mean… I guess? With the proper training, maybe? I bet they can kick really good.”

“Well,” his dam corrects. “They kick well, sweetie.”

“Not the point, dam. The point is that that’s just one dumb example of literally tens of thousands of stories that, with some rewriting and polishing, could potentially make millions of bits. Maybe more.”

Deed slowly nods in agreement, weighing the suggestion. “Don’t see what the problem would be, if ya wanna talk ta her ‘bout it. Not sure that’s the… genre,” he says, as if tasting the word and finding he doesn’t enjoy it very much, “that she normally writes.”

Cure chews his lips for a moment, eyes flicking briefly to his dam. “I mean… I don’t think I should be the one sharing stories from her preferred genre with her, but I ain’t exactly lackin in ‘em for that one, either.”

Vines stops her eating to rub at her brow with her pastern, sighing, “Every meal. Every. Single. Meal.”

“Hay, I’m not the one that brought it up,” the colt points out. “I was content talking about ninja bunnies.” Thrusting a hoof at his sire, he insists, “Blame him, not me!”

“Thanks, son,” the stallion grumbles.

“I think it’s a good idea,” Title chimes in. “At least, I don’t see any reason not to pursue it, aside from however much of your own time it would take.”

Cure’s muzzle scrunches in consideration and he admits, “It would vary a lot based on the stories. Some, like The Lion King or Frozen would be pretty easy because they already take place in a fictional setting. Foals’ stories would probably be easiest and, given pony tastes, would probably sell the best anyhow. The stories, as I recall them, also would be fairly short when typed out, so… yeah, that would probably work best.”

“Then start with those,” Title suggests. “You’ve already done all the work for them anyhow.”

“I can’t use those two. The gang would know something’s up if they heard about them coming out as a new story all of the sudden. Maybe after the big reveal, but… yeah, not right now.”

“Maybe ya ought’a hold off completely, then,” Amethyst argues. “Seems ta me ya already got enough coals on the fire, colt. Work on ‘em durin down time if ya want, but yer plenty busy as it is, and it ain’t like it’s urgent.”

“Eh, fair enough. I wouldn’t mind waiting until I had a way to present them in a visual media, too. I don’t know how well all of those will translate to the written word, and that is already something I’ve been working on.”

“What?” Title asks, surprised by the unexpected admission. “What do you mean you’ve been ‘working on’ it? How?!”

“Well, in a roundabout way,” he admits. “I’ve been developing something I call ‘Memory Pods’ that I’m hoping to be able to share at some point.” The scent of worry floods through the room and everypony stops eating to stare, prompting him to quickly reassure them, “Not for direct use on somepony! Just as a way to use an Illusion crystal to play a stored video or something. I mean, in theory, it’s possible that something sort of similar to them could work how you’re all thinking, too, but I would never suggest that, obviously.”

“But… could you do that?” Lemon inquires. “The whole memory thing, I mean.”

“Ehh, sort of,” Cure replies, wavering his fork-holding hoof in the air. “The way the brain stores memory is way too complex. It’s not like a file folder where you can just drop a few more pages into it and, wham-bam, suddenly new information is there.” Weaving his hooves all around his noggin, he explains, “It’s all interconnected, so really you’d have to basically take that same sheet of paper, cut it into a million pieces, stick them all in there in the right spots, and then update the file’s index to properly reference each spot to make it a cohesive whole. It’s so complicated that I’m not even sure I would be able to pull it off with my talent, and I’m not exactly willing to test it out either way.

“That, along with the numerous ethical concerns, is why it would be better to have the memory of whatever you’re storing be a completely separate being. Preferably something that nopony will eventually cry about the rights or wellbeing of. Like another plant or something. I’m just not sure how I would be able to create something that other ponies would be able to store memories in as opposed to something only I can create, because I don’t want to be the only one in the world who can do that.”

“There’s supposed to be unicorn mind spells that do stuff like that,” Title points out. “Maybe instead of trying to use your talent to store the memory you should create the empty Memory Pod thingie and use whatever spell to implant the memory you want to replay. I’d bet my mane the princess has those spells locked up tight, though.”

Nodding in agreement, he suggests, “I’ll ask her about it on Sunday. Mind affecting spells usually are restricted, which, while understandable, is also kind of a shame. Think about how useful they would be for training or teaching purposes.”

“I’m sure the princess has a very good reason why those spells are not shared,” Vines is quick to point out.

“Oh, I’m sure, too,” he agrees, “but that doesn’t mean they couldn’t be used ethically by monitored, trusted ponies. Spells are a tool like any other, dam. There’s probably a few dozen things between here and the shed that could hurt somepony in the wrong hooves, not to mention the hooves themselves,” he argues, miming a weak punch to emphasize his point.

She waits until he finishes before patiently responding, “I understand that, honey. I just don’t want you to get your hopes up that she will allow you to have those spells.” She delicately points out, “It may be better to wait a little while before asking, given everything that’s happened.”

“She’s not angry with me,” he argues.

“Maybe not angry, but…”

“She ain’t exactly happy with ya, either, colt,” Amethyst bluntly explains. “Yer dam’s right. Best wait a month or two ‘fore ya go askin for anythin.”

The colt deflates, but nods in acceptance. “Fine. I guess there’s no rush. Like you said, I have enough going on. Speaking of which, when are we gonna go check out the house you picked out?”

“When can you?”

He looks between Deed and Title, asking, “Do they do showings on Sundays?”

“They do,” Deed confirms. “It’ll hafta be next Sunday, though. If’n ya told us earlier…”

“There’s no open house?”

“That’s not something that most ponies do,” Title points out. “We’ve suggested it to Hearth, so it may catch on, but for now? Most ponies do scheduled appointments.”

“Alright, then how about sometime around noon on any day but Monday?”

“That should work,” she agrees. “We’ll get it scheduled as soon as we can.”

“Good deal. How’s the whole merger thing working out, anyhow?”

“It’s different,” she admits. “I’m still getting used to working with so many other ponies.” She reaches her right hoof to drape it over Deed’s foreleg and says, “It was just me and your sire for a long time. Then Fair came along-”

“And thank Celestia she did,” Deed interrupts. “Always hated the financin mess.”

“Literally thank her,” Cure grumbles under his breath.

Both parents roll their eyes at the colt’s continued insistence that their hire is a spy. Title continues, “It’s nice, though, having a few other ponies to go to lunch with and whatnot. I think it was worse for your sire.”

Deed smoothly steps in to explain, “Some’a my team weren’t thrilled ta have somepony brought in overtop of ‘em, gettin a cut ‘a their sales.”

“Tough,” Amethyst huffs. “Hearth approached you, not tha other way around. She’s ‘sposta be takin care of the administrative junk. Let ‘er!”

“She is,” Deed placatingly assures her. “Can’t change a pony’s mind overnight, babe.”

“Bet I could,” Cure quietly suggests. Nopony pays him any mind, continuing their conversation while he stuffs his face. With him talking throughout most of the meal thus far, he’s fallen behind everypony else whose plates are mostly cleaned. Booty wiggling happily in his seat as he stuffs his face, he only partially listens in as his sire and mom go on about their whiny, bitching coworkers. Suddenly he realizes that conversation has stopped and everypony is looking at him expectantly.

“Well?” his sire asks, waiting for a response. Cure’s look of confusion earns him a sigh and the stallion clarifies, “Grandpa, son. How’d it go?”

“My bad! It went fine. I was only stoppin in to get my important mail and see if there was anything I needed to know about tomorrow. It’ll be the same five ponies that were with Arcane in Canterlot. He’s not comin this time, which is fine since… ya know -”

“Since yer a walkin disaster now anyways?” Amethyst suggests.

“Not how grandpa put it, but yeah, basically. Anyhow, they’ll be waitin for us at the park just to the south of town, then they’ll escort us to the market. That way we can arrive at least somewhat clandestinely. When you’re touring the town with the folks three of them will be accompanying you all -”

“What?” Lemon suddenly asks. “Why?”

“Zebras, duh?” Cure replies. “Remember, they were plannin on fleeing to Filly after absconding from the train. It’s possible there’s some that may try something. If it were up ta me they’d all be going with you because, as it turns out, there should be plenty of security at the market tomorrow. Apparently Marquis Merryweather, either merely out of good sense or as some kind of apology, has arranged for four squads of guards to be at or near the Market at all times.”

“You mean police, right?” Title asks. “City police?”

“I… don’t know?” he replies with a shrug. “Grandpa said the letter he got said to expect guards to be nearby.”

“Huh. Well, whatever. That’s good news, I suppose.”

“Won’t that make ponies curious?” Lemon wonders aloud. Motioning between her and Amethyst, she says, “We used to go to the Market every once in a while. There would be police walking around, but not many that I remember.”

“Huh uh,” the darker mare agrees. “A few moseyin about ta look at the wares or get a snack’s ‘bout all I remember.”

“He’s using dragons as an excuse,” Cure explains. “At least, that’s what grandpa said. Apparently a few mixed up the dates and sent their… uhh, underlings, I guess? Their younger relatives that they use for city stuff.”

“There is a bit of a hierarchy, but my understanding is that it only applies to Equestrian dragon families. The… well, uncivilized dragons, according to our old landlady, kick their spawn out once they reach maturity. They’re on their own from there on out. Keep in mind there is a dragon language, but… well…” she trails off, looking to her wife for help.

“It’s all hisses ‘n growls ‘n whatnot,” Amethyst explains. “Dunno if it’s even a language, exactly.”

“Right,” Lemon agrees, picking up again, “so, thankfully, everything is in Ponish, but you may see dragons just kinda growlin or whatever and, somehow, they understand each other.”

“So… body language plus, more or less.”

“Exactly. So first off, as is right and proper, females are in charge.” she smugly continues, chuckling when the colt gives her a look of annoyance.

To his amusement, his sire stops shoveling food in his mouth for a moment, tilts his head in consideration, and glances to his left and right. All four mares have turned and are watching him intently, waiting to see if he has anything to add. He wisely declines to do so by shrugging, nodding in acceptance, and focusing back on his plate. Cure briefly considers making a whipping noise, but has enough memories of married life to know that his sire more or less has the right of it.

“The eldest female is the grandmatron-”

“Or just matron,” Amethyst adds. “Old Snagclaw called hers that.”

“Or just matron, apparently,” Lemon smoothly amends, waving a hoof at her wife, “then they rank each other by claw numbers, depending on how many responsibilities they have. So our landlady, for example, was a third claw since she ran a single building. Her boss would be a second claw, and she, whoever she was, would probably be over the entire apartment rental business. Anydrake that works as a janitor or runner or whatever would be a fourth claw, and they… well, try not to deal with them if you can.”

“They’re jerks,” Amethyst adds. “Lazy, stupid, arrogant jerks that do tha least they can, then threaten ya if ya keep complainin.”

Lemon enthusiastically nods, saying, “For the most part. I always hated when we had a problem and a fourth showed up to fix it. Shoddy, temporary fixes almost every time.” Eyes closed, she shakes her head and groans, “The plumbing was the worst.”

Amethyst nods, explaining, “Old Snagclaw didn’t want to pay for pony plumbers, so she kept usin her kin ta fix everything. Woke up plenty’a mornins ta no hot water, no water at all, or, sometimes, some pretty nasty smells comin outta the drains. Her stupid son or nephew’d come out ‘n shut water off to the whole buildin fer hours ta supposedly fix it, then tha same thing’d happen a week or so later.”

Cure grunts, saying, “A lot more organized than I expected.”

“That’s cause they’re native, colt,” Amethyst explains. “They ain’t nothin like their wild relatives. Bunch’a crazy savages from what I hear.”

“Grandpa used’ta say the same thing,” Deed agrees. “Some’a them from tha dragon lands would make their way too close ta Appleloosa harassin travelers, robbin ponies, or just doin one’a them migrations. Don’t sound like they had a lick ‘a sense between tha lot of ‘em. You see a flock ‘a dragons in the air, son, you get inside. Not that they come ‘round here much, mind ya.”

“Gettin pretty far off topic, pa,” Cure points out. “What I was saying is a few of those, I guess, fourth claws or whatever came to the market this past weekend looking for my booth, so the marquis is using that as an excuse to up the guard, sayin that more security is needed in case they have any problems with the bigger dragons comin into town.”

“Yer gonna hafta make deposits throughout the day,” Amethyst suggests. “Havin a bunch’a bits or gold in yer shop’ll set some’a them off. Especially them younger ones. They get a sniff’a gold in the air, they may just decide they want a piece.”

“Great,” he huffs. “I guess I can just teleport it out to a remote location every so often. Somewhere they can’t easily find it.”

“Or,” Title sardonically suggests, “Teleport it directly to the bank for deposit.”

“The wards would stop me.”

Rolling her eyes melodramatically, she says, “Then send an empty carriage to the bank with one of your puppets, then Teleport the gold into it when you get close. That way nopony - or nodrake - can intercept it and you don’t have to explain who your puppet is to your grandpa’s ponies. Your puppet go in and deposit it. You do have some deposit slips, right?”

“I can print my own,” he reminds her.

“Fair. It won’t matter for those since they’re coming from you anyhow, but you really need to start being careful where you leave your conjured stuff. You don’t want anypony comparing papers from Cure Wave with those from Serpentus, after all.”

“That’s… a good point,” he agrees with a cringe. He spends a moment wondering if anypony pulled his magical signature off of the Broccoloid “demands” he left behind or off of Madame Adiah’s paperwork. If so, he hasn’t heard anything about it, and it’s not like his magical signature is something that anypony can normally get to. The princess obviously has it on file, but she already knows about both of those incidents anyhow.

Cure spends a moment wondering if there’s a way to fake or alter a pony’s signature. Nothing in any of the books he’s read has indicated it is possible. Magic is, supposedly, an expression of one’s very being; their soul, essentially. Of course, that doesn’t mean that it’s impossible to broadcast a fake signal either overtop of the normal one or just to interfere with reading it. He adds that to the mental list of things to ask the princess about.

“Dam?” he calls, getting the mare’s attention. “Wind Shear came by to collect her pay today.”

“Okay?”

“She asked if she could come tend my storefront tomorrow.”

She gives him a shallow nod, sensing there is more.

“Since we’re leaving before sunup I suggested she spend the ni-”

“No.”

All three moms quietly snort, shaking in silent laughter at the immediate denial. Deed, once again, keeps his mouth shut and eyes fixed on his now empty plate.

“-ght… why? You let Rising spend the night!”

“She couldn’t stay home by herself!” she immediately counters. It’s a valid point, but that whole experience left Cure somewhat confused. He’d expected his sire to go to Script’s house instead of her coming to theirs. He isn’t sure if his dam and moms got in on the action or if they merely watched, and he’s perfectly fine not knowing. The whole thing seems extremely odd, but ponies are incredibly liberal when it comes to sex. “I said no sleepovers. Especially with her.”

The young alicorn easily picks up on the oddly placed emphasis. A single brow cocked in question, he asks, “What do you mean by ‘Especially with her?’ It’s not like she’d do something. Hay, it’s not like she could.”

“I don’t think I need to explain to you, of all foals, why a dam would not allow an older filly to spend the night with her son. Especially when you’ve all but shaped her appearance to… that!” she says, waving a hoof to the front door.

Cure follows it with his head, staring for a moment before turning back. “I’m not sure where she is at the moment, but her house is actually more that way,” he argues, pointing roughly between her and his sire to the northeast.

She sucks in a quick breath and blows out a sigh, arguing, “You know exactly what I mean.”

“Fine. Whatever. I guess I’ll pick her up on the way back from training. I am still allowed to go to that, right?”

Openly frowning at his disrespectful tone, she replies, “Since it is too late to cancel your appearance, you may go tomorrow, but maybe it would be best if you told them that you need a break until you can correct. Your. Attitude.”

“Uhh, V,” Amethyst begins, but is cut off when Cure talks overtop of her. “My attitude? All I did was ask if a friend could spend the night so she wouldn’t be out flying in the dark!”

Vines hoof thrusts scoldingly in his direction as she demands, “You do not talk over your mother, young stallion!”

“I didn’t! She was talking to you, not me!”

“You still talked over her!” She gestures at his wings and mane and demands, “And enough with the alicorn mane thing!”

Any would-be argument dies in his throat. Head whipping from side to side, he sees that not only have wisps of ethereal hair in his mane and tail begun glowing, but both of his sisters are staring up at him. At least neither of them appear to be scared, merely curious.

Lotus even rears up, with her left hoof on his shoulder to run her right through his mane. “It feels tingly like the princess’s!” she notes, eyes sparkling in wonder.

With any lingering fight thoroughly sapped from his body, Cure sags in his seat, allowing the effect to fade. “Yeah, well, it’ll be a bit ‘till it starts staying like that. And you know it’s not something I’m doing on purpose,” he adds, eyes flicking back to his dam.

The mare takes a long moment to rub at her face, visibly forcing herself to calm. “I understand,” she gently begins, “and I know you are very protective of your friends, honey, but I don’t like the idea of you spending the night with Wind Shear by herself. She’s the age where fillies sometimes don’t consider the consequences of their actions. As thankful for my own impulsiveness as I am, that is not something I would recommend for others.”

“Yeah, well, there’s any number of reasons why that’s not an issue here. The only reason I suggested she come over tonight is so she didn’t have to fly here in the dark by herself.” Waving the issue away before she can respond, he adds, “It’s not worth fighting over. I’ll just pick her up on the way home. Problem solved.” He wraps a wing around each of the girls, pulling them against his sides. “Am I allowed to take the girls flying?”

The question momentarily catches her off guard. It’s only after she takes a moment to look around that Vines notices everypony has finished eating. She looks to Lemon and Amethyst, each of whom nod their assent. “I suppose. Be back before sundown.”

“And go easy ‘till their food settles,” Lemon instinctively adds, the words escaping her muzzle before her brain can point out how unnecessary that is.

“No problem, ma.” His wings spread and wrap around the fillies, hugging them to his sides. “Let’s go get you suited up. Ready?” As soon as they nod, his horn lights up and they vanish in a flash, Teleporting to their room to prep his adult pegasus puppet, get the girls dressed, and alter their appearances.

None of the parents move to get up. They wait in silence until they hear their three oldest foals teleport off into the sky.

After a few more moments, Amethyst quietly points out, “Like he said, he can’t help it. You know that.”

“I know,” Vines sighs, shallowly nodding.

“And ya know it frustrates ‘em somethin fierce.”

“I know.”

“Then don’t rub it in his face when it happens!”

“What am I supposed to do, then?!”

“Calmly point it out to him,” Title steps in to reply. “He is not an overly emotional foal. Usually. Just tell him his mane is flaring in a calm voice and he’ll most likely stop in an instant.”

“And maybe we ought’a ease up on the whole groundin thing,” Deed timidly suggests. Vines’ disapproving reaction is immediate and he quickly adds, “Not right away! I ain’t sayin let ‘em of scot free. Just maybe another week or two, I mean. Barely lettin ‘em seein his friends ain’t doin nopony any good.”

“He’s seeing them,” Lemon interjects. “He’s been going over to the school almost every day during their recess. It’s not much,” she notes with a shrug, “but it definitely brings his mood up.”

“He was in a much better mood Wednesday morning, too,” Title agreeingly points out.

“I’ll… think about it,” Vines finally concedes.

“Works fer me, babe. Just don’t forget, even if it were a bit much, he only did what he did ‘cause he thought it’d keep us safer.”

Author's Note

Okay, I know I said the next chapter would be Filly, but I couldn't do it. There were too many things I felt I needed to touch on before the family heads out of town. Don't worry. We'll get there next chapter. Probably.

So Cure's still kind of in the dog house. No surprise there. I'm happy to see some disagreements in the comments about how right or wrong Cure was. I would be worried something is wrong with me if everyone agreed he's a little psycho that went too far. He probably did go too far, but... I don't want to think how I'd react in the same situation. It would probably not end well. For anyone.

That said, I really don't envy his parents here. How do you punish him when he could, quite easily, do whatever he wants without you ever being the wiser? Finding the right punishment is a fine line, to be sure. I don't see him ever running away, but even small wounds can fester if left ignored, as his former teacher pointed out.

As for Crisp Script? I wrote a short chapter for the night she and Rising came over, but... eh, it's not really clicking. I dunno, maybe if the inspiration fairy pays me a visit I'll clean it up and post it like I did with the Clearport chapter. Who knows? Regardless, while it sounds pretty damn strange to have them come over instead of sending Deed and having RP spend the night, I can totally see exactly this happening in a society where a herding instinct is present. Especially one that hasn't been influenced by religion like ours has. And keep in mind, kids wouldn't be nearly as sheltered from their parents' baby making even a hundred years past. Houses weren't as large or soundproof as they are today, after all.

The fake cutie mark thing seems like an objectively terrible idea, but the pressure on a pony in their mid teens without one would probably be pretty bad. Wind is still modeling, apparently, which is something I plan on exploring a little more at some point. She's also about as rational (and manipulative) as one would expect from a teenager. I'm sure Drift won't mind Cure letting her tag along. Yessir, that will go over just fine. Right?

Eh, we'll see.

As for the entertainment idea Cure has... well, I've been thinking of that one for a while. In any of these 'other world' stories, a typical adult-aged member of our modern society would be able to absolutely flood the market with an almost countless number of stories they watched, heard, read, whatever in their former world.

There's no good number I could find for how many movies a person will see over their life. 5000 is one number that showed up from Reddit. That doesn't count other media, either. The Harry Potter books alone made about eight billion dollars. Even factoring in all of the population/currency/etc. issues, a few good series would make a pony rich beyond their dreams.

Mental exercise here - Pick your favorite series. How much did it earn? How accurately could you reproduce it right off the top of your head? The answers are usually going to be "a fair amount" and "pretty well" unless it's something obscure.

TLDR; unless the world someone lands in already, somehow, has mirrored versions of the stories we do, anyone could become insanely wealthy very, very easily with that idea alone. Why... Cure may make so much that he has to *gasp* pay income tax again! What will he do?!

Again, maybe we'll see.

Okay, enough pondering! As always, thank you all for reading, rating, and especially commenting. Enjoy!

Chapter 2: Magic Experiments

Something has gone wrong. We don't seem to have an archived copy of that chapter.

Chapter 3: Worse dinners have been had

Monday, September 1st, 908 AB

"He's laying down right now. He doesn't seem sick or anything but he was staring off into nowhere every time I took my eyes off him at the market."

Title Search cut up the carrots and swept them into the saucepan. "Honestly he's been off for the last few days. You don't think he has a little crush on some filly do you? Maybe he got into an argument with one of his friends?"

Vines pauses for a moment and considers those possibilities. "No… I don't think I've seen him show any interest in anypony in particular. His friend Heavy was over a few days ago and they got on like peppers and onions, so I don't know about anypony fighting or anything."

Title looks out the back window for a moment. "Well it looks like he was doing something with your melon patch. Nothing obvious is wrong with it. Maybe he wants to help regrow what you sold today,” she says while shrugging. After putting enough water in the pan to cover the carrots she sets them on the burner. “These carrots are already kind of tender. I don’t think they’ll need to boil too long. How much longer does the bread have?”

Checking the oven and looking at the timer, Vines replies, “It should be ready to come out of the oven in about 20 minutes, so about 30 to cool enough to eat maybe.”

“Mmm I love your dam’s zucchini bread recipe. This is why I hate cooking. I feel like I had lunch just a little bit ago and being around food has me ready to eat again. And don’t tell me it’s because I’m eating for two. If that’s the case I must have been pregnant for almost my entire adult life.”

“Well I don’t know what you and Deed got into then because ponies don’t take that long, sweetheart.”

“You know exactly what we got into, you were there!”

Reddening slightly at the response, Vines looks back to the oven. “Someone had to provide moral support…” she giggles before continuing, “for him!”

Menacingly waving the coiled dish towel, Title takes aim at Vines' rear. “I’ll give you moral support, ya evil nag!”

“Not while cooking!” Vines yells, holding her hooves out. Putting her hooves back down after Title lowers the towel, she growls out lowly, “maybe later, though.”

Winking back at her, Title considers for a moment and asks, “Have you just directly asked him what’s wrong? You know how stallions are and colts are no better. Subtlety and nuance are mysterious concepts to them,” she says while waving her hooves about very mysteriously. “If he wants to tell you what’s going on he will. If he doesn’t then you’re no worse off,” she finishes, waving dismissively.

Vines mulled that over for a bit. Really, Cure had always been quiet at home. Chatty as all get out around his friends, but very well behaved in the house, likely from being an only child who can’t get in trouble and blame a sibling. Still, Title was probably right, and dinner was as good a time as any to find out what was bothering him.

A few minutes later Deed gets home. After the standard “home from work” ritual (a long, groan-inducing urine/pent-up fart release, then a good scrub of the face and hooves) he joined the conversation. “Smells good in here, ladies.” He leans over and nips Vines’ ear and gives her a kiss on her cheek. “Dinner smells delicious too. How’s my little dandelion been today?”

Giggling and squirming against her stallion, Vines breaks away. “Oh stop it. Save that for later, tiger. We were just talking about Cure and the funk he’s been in all week.”

After filling him in on the details of the day Deed can’t help but agree. “Yeah, you know us stallions. Beating around the bush and being all coy about stuff isn’t really our speed. I’ll go wake up the little stallion and we’ll talk it out over dinner.”

“Okay, honey. Vines and I will get the table set. You go fetch your colt.”

Deed heads upstairs, and gives Cure’s door a soft knock. When there’s no response he opens the door and heads in. The curtains are drawn, but enough light from Celestia’s sun sneaks in through the middle that he can easily make out his light-coated child. Moseying over to the bed he leans down and gives a gentle nuzzle-nudge to wake him up.

“Hey there son. The mares just about have dinner ready. Time to get up and get some food in ya. You don’t want to sleep too long anyhow, otherwise you won’t be able to go to sleep tonight.”

Cure wakes up with a muzzle-splitting yawn and cracks his eyes open just as his sire steps back and pulls one of the curtains slightly open. It’s not enough of a light level change to blind him, but he still lets out a groan and rolls over, facing his back to the window and his father.

“C’mon little Wavey. It’s time for din din,” Deed says as he gently grabs Cure by his scruff. He shakes the colt around just a little, then puts his forehooves up on the bed. “I guess we’ll have to resort to extreme measures then,” he fake-laments. “Well what’s this?” he asks as he licks his chops. “I don’t need to go downstairs to eat after all. There’s a big ‘ol belly that I can just gobble right up all cooked and ready for me!”

His eyes shoot wide open, but before Cure has a chance to roll away he’s snatched up, rolled onto his back, and pinned by his sire’s forelegs.

With an enormous “PBBBBBBBBBBBBBBBTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTT” Deed gives Cure a big, wet, flappy-lipped raspberry, right on his soft tummy.

“AHHH! DAD! HAHAHAHA! NO, STOP! AHH HAHAHAH I’M GONNA PEE!”

Like most fathers, Deed learned long ago that, though it typically is, sometimes “I’m going to pee” is NOT a bluff. Given that the colt just woke up he figures it’s probably best not to roll the dice on that one. “Well, I don’t feel like cleaning up a mess, so hurry and hit the potty then wash up and get down there. Your dam and mom have worked hard to get dinner ready and I’m hungry enough to eat a timberwolf. Gonna need more than some colt belly to get me through the night.” He flings the curtains open the rest of the way and heads back down to join his wives.

A few minutes later the plates are set and the entire household is ready to dine. Dinner is not a formal affair for the family, though the typical “Chew with your mouth shut, don’t talk while eating, etc.” rules still apply. The table is surrounded by “chairs” that are more like the seat and backrest of a human chair, just turned around with no legs attached. They’re tall enough that adults can sit on the flat part that’s on the cushioned part resting on the ground, while the top is a cushion that an adult pony can lean against with their upper barrel, lower chest area, keeping most of their weight on their haunches. There’s a part that extends further forward from where the chest rest attaches that keeps ponies from tilting over when leaning, though the chest rest is typically set to be tall enough to just touch the table, which is secured to the floor. This frees up their forehooves for using utensils or reaching for food. Cure has a smaller version that’s boosted up for him to reach the table. Once everyone is situated and digging in, Vines finally decides to bring up her concerns.

“Cure, honey… We’re a little worried that something has you upset. You’ve been a bit distant the last few days and, instead of beating around the bush or ignoring what’s going on, we decided it would be best to just ask if you’d like to talk about it.”

Deed gave Cure a small smile, “Yeah, son. I’ve been at work later than normal the last few days and even I can tell. That pillow wasn’t dry and as best I can tell you don’t drool like somepony at this table that shall remain unnamed.”

“I don’t drool…” Title bashfully whispers, her ears pinned back. The two other adults look at her with pity, “... much. I don’t drool that much. I’ve been dreaming about food a lot lately. It’s your fault!” she declares, pointing at Deed, “and you don’t help having the house smell like food all the time,” she says as she shifts the hoof to Vines.

After a few laughs all three adults quiet down and watch patiently as their son stops mid-chew, does a swallow so thick you’d think he was forcing down a hoof-sized pill, and shrinks in his seat with his ears pinned back. Aside from some quiet chewing and the gentle scrapes of utensils on plates there’s no noise for a solid ten seconds.

Cure finally seems to gather his nerve and sits back up in his seat. He is almost shaking with anxiety, but he also looks to be ready to share what is going on.

“You know what. That’s fair. I think if I were in your shoes I would probably want to talk it out too. I’m just worried that it’s kind of a dinner-ruiner… and I know you both worked hard on dinner tonight. Are you sure you don’t want to wait until we’re done?”

Vines stops eating and moves around the table with Title and Deed following only a split second later. Cure found himself buried in pony fuzz, face smushed between Vines’ and Title’s chests with Deed on the side, forehooves wrapped around all of them.

Deed leaned into the PonyPile Standing Edition, patent pending, and gently said, “Oh come on now, Cure. Whatever’s eating you can’t be all that bad. You didn’t accidentally hurt somepony did you? I haven’t heard from any other parents or anything. You can tell us. We won’t be mad atcha.”

Choking back a sob, Cure finally lets out a barked laugh. “HAH! Oh I think I needed that. Okay, okay… this is nice, but air is going to help if you want me to talk. C’mon, eat up and I’ll… well, I’ll do the best I can here. I can’t say I’ve prepared for this as much as I would like to. Or at all, really. Though honestly this feels like one of those “the longer you wait to say something the harder it is to say” kind of deals.”

Catching a few more nuzzles as the adults go back to their seats, Cure settles down and considers how best to explain.

“So, the first thing I would like to ask is that you hear me out completely. What I’m going to tell you isn’t going to be easy, either to tell or, likely, to hear. I don’t want anypony running off to the guard, calling a head-doctor, or summoning some kind of archmage to see if I’m under a curse or something, okay?”

“Uhh, to be honest, sport, I’m a tiny bit hesitant to make those promises all of a sudden. I think the first part’s fine, though. We’ll hear you out, but if you’re about to tell us you’re growing a second head or something we may need to call in some help with that.” Looking to his wives for backup, Deed gets hesitant nods. “If our doing nothing won’t lead to you or somepony else getting hurt then I think we can agree with that. Is that good enough?”

“Yeah, that’s fine," Cure nods. "Okay, first off, let me ask if you’ve ever heard a few terms that will save us all a lot of time. I have my doubts on this one, but how about Multiverse Theory? Have you ever heard that mentioned before?” At the head shakes to the negative Cure continued. “Well to put it simply, Multiverse Theory is, obviously, a theory that whenever something CAN possibly happen there’s a universe out there where it has. The simplest version that comes to mind would be if you come to a crossroad and decide to go left,” he says, waving a hoof to his left side. “According to the Multiverse Theory, there exists a Universe or a Reality where you went right instead," he helpfully points the other way. "That means that, again in theory, there are universes that are almost exactly like this one because most of the same things happened as they did here. There’s also universes that are so completely different you would never recognize them if you could see them. Is everyone with me so far?” he asks, looking from pony to pony.

Title was the only one that chose to speak up at that point. “I think we get the general idea, Cure. Though I have a hard time picturing how that would look,” she replies as Vines and Deed nod.

“Well, the easiest way to imagine it would probably be to pick one of your favorite stories. I’m sure you’ve read a book or two and thought “I wonder what would have happened if the main character did THIS” instead of what they actually did do. The original story would be the main universe or, “canon” universe is the term I’m familiar with, and the other where they took whatever action you thought about would be the alternative universe. Does that make it easier to follow?” he asks, looking around again. He summarizes with, “Canon is the original timeline from the story, AU is the alternative universe with the different choices or just things going sideways from the normal story.”

“Yeah, I’m following you, son. I do that every day when I read the newspaper. I swear I don’t know what ponies are thinking sometimes, especially when you see somepony getting arrested for something stupid just to make an extra bit or two.”

Emphasizing his father’s idea, Cure points a hoof at his sire saying, “Right! Good example. Somepony did something dumb and got caught and you read about it in the paper. If we accept that this Multiverse Theory could be true then there’s another universe, or just another Equus, where that pony didn’t commit the crime. No crime, no arrest, no article in the paper. Everything else throughout history was the same to that point, just that one choice was different. Now think about all the changes that result from that one single decision and imagine if more important decisions or events in our history were just a little different. Or, a lot different.” He pauses for them to catch up with him, then adds “I keep saying choice, but maybe the difference is some random event that wasn’t the result of a conscious choice by somepony… like a bad storm that formed by chance in one universe and not the other and hit a town before the weather ponies could respond.”

Growing concerned with where this conversation might be headed, Vines finally asks, “Okay, I think we get the idea there… Now, please tell me how this fits into you being all mopey the last couple days, honey.”

“Well one more term I need to throw out there, and this is one I think you’ve probably heard.” He pauses and takes a deep breath before simply saying, “Reincarnation. Have you heard of that before?”

“Son, I … uhh… I’ve gotta be honest here. I’m starting to get that “call an archmage” itch down in my hooves about now. What are you trying to say, exactly?”

Holding his hooves up to stop any interruption, Cure explains, “I want you all to know that I love you very much. You are still my parents and my family, but over the last few days I’ve been remembering things that happened to me before I was born. And no, I don’t mean while you were pregnant with me, dam.” Cure paused at Deed’s quiet “Oh thank Celestia” and gave him a disgusted look. He wasn’t the only one and Deed shrank a bit under Vines’ withering stare. “I REALLY don’t want to think about that time now, thank you father.” Looking back to his dam with wilted ears and watering eyes he finishes, “I mean I have memories of a life previous to this one… from the time I was four or so until… well, until the day I think I passed.”

Utter silence reigned in the house for a solid minute. In that time Cure counted no less than a dozen times where one adult or another would look like they were going to say something, pause, do that “look up and to the side, head tilt” thinking thing, and then repeat the process.

Finally, feeling exhaustion setting in all over again, he decided it was best to break the silence. “That’s why I’ve been mopey. From my perspective… a few days ago I was in the hospital. I watched my wife of 22 years die from a virus that destroyed her respiratory system while I was in the next bed over in the same room dying from it myself. I…” the tears started, and the sniffling began, “ I haven’t even had time to mourn her,” he adds as he chokes out a sob and lays his head on the table. “We were so sick and in the same room and the doctors and nurses all came running in when her heart monitor flat-lined and they told me they couldn’t bring her back after working on her for nearly an hour trying to push oxygen into her lungs and forcing chest compressions to keep her heart going, but that virus wrecked her lungs so bad she couldn’t get enough air no matter what they did and I was so weak by then all I could do was just sit there and watch until they finally told me there was nothing they co… could do and my Cyndi,” sniffling and sobbing his eyes out he finishes, “Cyndi was gone forevererer!” As the words finally left his mouth Cure broke down into wailing sobs, once again wrapped in a fuzzy embrace, this time it was Deed that he was facing with forehooves wrapped around his father’s neck, with a loving mare on each side.

“Oh my poor baby! Let it all out sweetheart. I can’t believe you’ve been holding that hurt in for days now! Don’t you worry about us at all, we’ll always love you! You’ll always be my little colt, no matter what!” Vines cries out while wrapping around her son.

Title broke off first, sitting on her haunches just beside the others. With a grimace she explains, “I’ve read fantasy stories where things like this happened. I gotta be honest, they never really went into that aspect of the situation. I mean, you don’t really think about it when you’re reading the story, but it… I don’t even know what to say. You poor thing…” she says as she puts a comforting hoof on his side. “I can’t even imagine…”

After a full minute of sobbing, Cure finally gets himself under some semblance of control. Giving his father a pat on the back - or more on the side of his neck because he’s still so small - he gets set back down. “I was about five months short of forty eight when it happened. About six months prior there was an outbreak of this virus. They were calling it a global pandemic. Millions were getting sick.”

“Ohhh… that’s why you brought up the whole Mutiverse thing. We’ve never had anything like that happen. This… you didn’t live on this Equus, did you?” Title asked.

“No. It wasn’t Equus at all. It was a completely different universe, as best I can tell. That or a planet so far away it might as well be. And…” he hesitated, looking at his parents, “well, no easy way to say it. I was not a pony.”

“Huh.” Deed contributed to the conversation. He scrunches his brows together and looks up in thought. “Can’t imagine what that must be like.” Looking back down he half-asks, “If you weren’t a pony then…”

Answering the unasked question, Cure begins, “The scientific name of my species was Homo Sapiens. Physically the closest being I know of on this planet is minotaurs… actually, maybe Diamond Dogs, but they’re still not very close at all. Humans, at least the kind I was, are an evolved primate. Our ancient ancestors were some kind of ape. The world was completely different too. Magic does not exist aside from in our fantasy stories. What’s weird is that thousands of years ago there was this one civilization that had myths surrounding a number of the creatures that exist on this planet. Minotaurs, unicorns, griffons, pegasus, and a number of non-sapient creatures were all myth and legend back there. Dragons were too, but they were usually the evil monster that had to be slain to save the village. They appeared in fantasy stories from a number of cultures across the planet. I’m pretty sure that this world is somehow tied to that one or maybe there’s some bleed-over to specific individuals, at least. It’s not like anyone has ever found an ancient skeleton to prove that anything from Equus ever made it to Earth, so who knows. Maybe they could get a peek into this world from their dreams or something and thought they just imagined everything.”

“Wait, the planet is called Earth? Like, ya know, earth ponies?” he asks, waving around the room. "You didn’t mention us. Are we myths there too?" Deed asked.

“No, not myths. Reality. There are ponies on Earth. They’re physically shaped the same as we are, mostly, but they are not intelligent. The only creatures on the planet that are sapient are humans. Ponies on Earth are equines, so … you know, four hooves, tail, mane, etcetera, but their muzzles are longer and their eyes are a little smaller and more towards the side of their heads than front-facing. There’s another animal on Earth that’s very similar to a pony, just quite a bit larger called a horse.”

“There used to be horses on Equus tens of thousands of years ago,” Deed nods in recognition. “They went extinct as far as we know. They sound like what you’re describing; face, eyes, and all that. They were just wild animals,” Deed explained, “though they could be our distant ancestors like you said apes are to humans,” he finishes with a shrug.

“Are they basically shaped the same as us, just like… way bigger?” At everypony’s nod he continued, “Well on Earth there’s a bunch of different breeds of both horses and ponies, just like there’s a bunch of different kinds of dogs here. Horses were used for labor; pulling carts, dragging farming plows, or even rode on as mounts since they’re quite a bit bigger and can run a lot faster than humans can. Humans aren’t physically very strong, so when they needed to pull something they would put a harness on a horse and latch them to the wagon. What’s weird is that the wagons humans used are shaped like the one you use to go to the market, dam. I guess if it works in one universe it works in another, huh?”

Smiling slightly while looking at her mates, Vines thinks aloud, “I have to admit I have mixed feelings about my son comparing me to a huge, dumb, animal.” She then broke down laughing at the absurdity of the whole situation. Cure cringed away when she glanced his way. “I’m sorry, Cure. You know I’m just trying to get what laughs I can out of the situation. I’m not upset, really, just teasing you a bit.”

“I know, dam.” He bodily leaned against her while explaining, “It’s a lot to take in. Like, it’s more to take in than I think you’ve probably have to deal with ever. I don’t even know where to start and I’m not even telling you the really, REALLY bizarre part. I’m not sure if I should because then you might feel compelled to do something, but I don’t know if doing something would make things better or worse in the long run.” Cure mulls it over for a few moments, then shrugs. “I guess since there’s no immediate answers there’s probably no harm in at least sharing some of it with you, though. When I said I think this world and my old one must be connected, I mean that we have stories of THIS world, “ he says, pointing down for emphasis, “at least I think, on Earth. We have stories of earth ponies, unicorns, pegasus, and alicorns from Equestria. I… well, we had different, more advanced technology, so let me simplify by saying that we viewed plays about and read stories about what I think is this world. They took place in the future.”

Title grimaced at the thought. “Oh wow. Now that right there is a whole different kind of mess. I don’t know much about actual time travel, but it’s basically always bad news in any story I’ve seen about it. Wait, you said alicorns. We only have one princess, though…”

“If I’m right then Princess Celestia is the only alicorn right now, but Nightmare Moon is actually, sort of, an alicorn as well. Nightmare Moon is Princess Luna, Celestia’s sister, who was possessed by some kind of evil shadow creature. She was upset because her sister got all the love and attention of their little ponies for, like, decades or centuries or something. Somehow, she was possessed by a shadow thing that transformed her into Nightmare Moon. She then attacked Celestia to try to overthrow her and bring eternal night, but Celestia used an ancient artifact as a last-ditch effort to imprison her without having to kill her. It sent her to the moon. She’ll break free in about 90 years at the 1000th anniversary on the day of the Summer Sun Celebration. She’ll end up being cleansed of the Nightmare by that same artifact, this time wielded by somepony other than Princess Celestia, and she’ll return to rule with her sister as Princess Luna, warden of the moon and protector of dreams.”

“Wow, that is not the version of the story that I heard in school.”

“I know, dad. It’s been over 900 years, though. I’m willing to bet a very large portion of what happened almost a millennium ago is quite a bit different from what’s in the history books. This one’s pretty easy to figure out though. What’s Equestria’s flag look like?”

“A white and dark blue alicorn encircling the sun and crescent moon… wait. The blue one is her sister?”

“Yep, that’s Princess Luna. I don’t think their names were Luna and Celestia before they ascended, by the way. From what I think I read they had normal pony names beforehoof.”

“Ascended?”

“Uhh… they weren’t always alicorns?” Cure hesitantly kind of explained-slash-asked.

“The princess was always an alicorn, honey,” Vines corrected.

“Well, that may be. I admit, just like the different choices in the story we talked about earlier, there are different versions of these stories about Equestria. In some of them they were born as unicorns or pegasus and ascended when they… well, basically, they did something everypony thought was impossible that had never been done before. The story I remember had Celestia raising the sun by herself where before it took like a dozen unicorns. Luna ascended when, as a pegasus, she wanted to touch the stars and flew higher than any pegasus ever has before and somehow was infused with the power of the moon. I’m honestly less sure about Luna’s ascension stories. She was banished for 1000 years so she has less history readily available. Either way, I am almost 100% sure that a pony can become an alicorn under the right circumstances because Celestia and Luna are not the only alicorns in the future. Two other ponies ascend and one of those has a foal that’s also an alicorn.”

“Well I’m not too sure that digging too deep into the princess’ history is really the best way to verify what you’ve seen of the future is true. We can certainly check the library or make a trip to Baltimare and check there, but I don’t know if drawing a bunch of attention would be a good idea. Title you’re the best with that kind of stuff, what do you think?” Deed asked.

“Every filly goes through a princess phase, so I don’t think it will be a big deal if we check out a few books next time we get the opportunity. And I’ll never say no to a weekend trip to Baltimare, you know that. The shopping alone beats anything we have around here!”

With an eye roll, Cure looks at his father and complains, “Females and shopping. Another constant. Have they always dragged you along and asked your opinion on every item with the occasional trap question like “Does this make me look fat?” or “Do I look good in this?””

“Hey!” sounds out in stereo while Deed barks out a laugh.

“Oh wow, that right there makes me believe your story more than anything about the princess,” Deed nods. “That look can only come from a stallion that’s been dragged around a shopping plaza a few times.”

“Yeah, I would go shopping with Cyndi and McKynzie a lot, especially when Kynzie hit her teenage years. We made a day out of it. Josh… our son… he didn’t always want to join in, and who could blame him? Anyhow, I’d make a big breakfast of eggs, bacon, hash browns, and buttered toast with a little brown sugar and cinnamon on it. We’d head to the mall when it was opening around 10, spend a few hours shopping, get barely-edible food at the food court, then go a few more hours before I finally threw in the towel and we packed it up and headed home.” Cure shot a big shit-eating grin to his father and added, “If I was a good boy and didn’t complain then Cyndi would reward me later,” he finishes with a huge smile, tail wagging behind him.

Vines nearly choked, Title burst out laughing, and Deed gave a sage nod to his son. “Sounds like you knew how to handle your mare, son. Respect.” One bro-hoof later they both broke down, Vines still looking quite torn between the two of them.

“I’m honestly not sure if I should be horrified right now.” Looking at Title for help she added, “We just listened to my eight year old son talk about his wife “rewarding him”. This feels like it would be weird even if he was older, but coming out of a little colt’s mouth… I don’t know what to think.” Cure could tell she was trying not to laugh. Ponies are publicly pretty reserved, but once they get behind closed doors they’re as bad if not worse than most humans he had known.

“Well,“ Title began, “I’m totally convinced at least something happened.” She and everyone else returned to finish off their now mostly-cooled food. “You obviously do have memories that have no place in the head of a colt your age… or, really, any age. If this was some made up story I don’t think you could possibly have thought out as much detail as you have, never mind the “future of the country” stuff. I guess the next question I have is what do we do from here? Also, I have about a million other questions but I’m SUPER hungry still.” Giving a pitiable look at her near-empty plate, Title looks beseechingly at Cure, “Can I stuff my face a bit more before I interrogate your little brains out?”

“That sounds good. I’m feeling a bit wiped out, so let’s eat, clean up, and maybe head to the living room. There’s a few things I think I know that may be really important to us as a family. I don’t want to wait to talk about them and maybe we can start figuring out where we go from here.”

Curious, but hungry enough to wait, the adults all agree and finish their food. Cure, being too short to really contribute much to dish washing, heads into the living room. He pulls four cushions into a kind of square and lays on his side on one of the smaller ones. A few lamps are lit, so even with the sun sitting in the distance there’s enough light for everypony to see.

Author's Note

Ahh... the eternal "insert" question. To tell or not to tell? If you can't trust your family then who can you trust? Right?

Chapter 4: What hath man wrought?

Monday, September 1st, 908 AB

Vines brings a cup of water in and sets it beside her pillow. She then goes to her son, picks him up by the scruff despite his protests, sets him on a bigger pillow, and lays on her side against him. Appreciative of the physical comfort, Cure lays down so he’s half on her barrel, half on the pillow and looks to Title and Deed who are sharing a cushion in leaned-together pony loaf positions.

“So, I have lots of ideas. I’ve spent the last few days doing nothing but thinking about the future. Mainly to keep my mind occupied, but also because I have… like SOOO many ideas, I don’t even know where to start. Before we get into it, though, I want to say again how grateful I am to have you all and how much I appreciate how well you’re accepting of this. I can’t even tell you how many thoughts I’ve had about how horribly bad this could have gone. I’m sorry to say, but I gave a lot of thought to the idea of just not saying anything at all, but that’s really unfair to all of you. I would just end up feeling like an imposter or something, and nopony here deserves their son acting like that. I know how it feels to have … well, he was my step son, but still, I know how it feels to have a child reject you. It hurts… it hurts a lot and you don’t ever stop wondering what you did wrong.”

After another round of nuzzles and reassurances Cure continues, “So the first, and possibly most important thing that I see is… well, “wrong” may be too strong of a word, but that’s what I’m going with for now. What I see as the most important thing that we’re doing wrong is we’re not taking full advantage of the greatest gift ponykind has been given. I don’t know how accurate the stories about Equestria are, but my understanding is that there are no other creatures on this planet that are as… I guess “blessed” would be the word… blessed with magic. Is that accurate?”

After a few moments thinking Title spoke up, “I know that other creatures do have their own magic. Griffons use theirs to fly and I think they can sharpen claws and walk on clouds, but I don’t think they have the weather control that pegasus do. The only other race I know anything about are dragons and I’ve never even met anypony that has met a dragon, I think. They can breathe fire. They can fly, but I don’t think they can walk on clouds or anything like that.”

Deed added in, “Grandpa used to be posted at a southern fort about fifty years ago. He talked about occasionally having a dragon come through or wander nearby. They don’t walk on clouds and, from what he said, are usually colossal jerks. But yes, they do breathe fire, and it’s a lot nastier than just normal flames.”

Cure nodded along, “Yep, that matches what I know. So my point is, ponies are, for whatever reason, more magically gifted on average than any race either you or I know of on the planet. We can control the weather, we can shape the earth, we can grow plants, we can strengthen ourselves, unicorns can cast all manner of spells, and that’s not even getting into alicorns moving the heavenly bodies,” he says as he waves vaguely at the sky.

“Heavenly is right. Them flanks…” Deed mutters, earning a whack from Title which, in turn, got a grateful nod from Vines.

“Moving on. My point is that we, as earth ponies, seem like we got the short end of the stick. At a glance, the ability to fly or cast spells or do all the stuff unicorns can do would make you think that we don’t really have much magic compared to the other two tribes. That, I believe, is an incorrect assumption. A very incorrect one, in fact. I am under the impression that earth ponies can train up their magic to the point where we would make even a powerful unicorn stare in shock. The difference is that it’s a more subtle magic use and, like it or not, big flashy displays of magic will always draw more attention than small, subtle ones. Our magic is tied much more directly to our physical bodies.”

“Honey, we all know that we’re stronger than the other tribes because of magic,” Vines says.

“Right, I know that you are aware of that. That’s kind of the earth pony “thing” we do have. What I mean is that if you have a magically powerful earth pony like the ones I read about in stories they can literally buck trees into splinters, run miles without fatigue, call nature itself down on their enemies, and shrug off blows that would cripple a unicorn or break a pegasus in half. We are not using our magic right. We’re barely using it at all. It just sits there inside of us and we go through our normal day and ignore it, but we’re ignoring the biggest source of power that we have. We’re basically outright weakening ourselves by neglect. The powerful earth pony I described? They’d probably be as spry and healthy as a thirty year old unicorn at a hundred and twenty years of age. I don’t know all of this for sure, but from what I do understand our magic is tied directly to our constitution. We should rarely, if ever, get sick. We should heal faster, be stronger, and live longer. The problem is that either nopony ever knew this or somehow that knowledge got lost when, thousands of years ago, earth ponies and the other races all got driven from our homelands. Or, I guess it’s possible the information is known by some and is kept secret.”

“Uhh that sounds pretty good, sport… but I don’t think it really works like that. I’ve never heard of any earth ponies living much over about a hundred. Now I’ll grant that pegasus and unicorns don’t usually live much past about seventy, but… well, “ Deed paused in thought a moment. “Now that I think about it… maybe you’re onto something about that. Still, “healthy at 120” is a far cry from “living to almost 100.” How can we know if you’re on to something?”

“There’s no obvious way to test longevity, and I’m not about to suggest we test the whole fast-healing or damage-resistant aspects,” Cure paused, looking at his sire with a smile, “Unless I can somehow convince the mares to beat you up a bit to see how you fare, that is.”

Ignoring the giggles from his wives, Deed smiles and wipes away a fake tear. “Warmin my heart, here, son.”

“Right, so the easiest thing to test would be the strength buff part of it.” Cure finished.

“Buff?” Vines questions.

“Ugh, sorry. That’s a word used in the games I played as a human. Remember I said magic was a fantasy thing?” at their nods he continues, “well a word used to describe a guy with big muscles was to call him buff. So a “buff” spell in the games would make a character stronger. It was also applied to spells that enhanced other aspects, so you would have a strength buff or a speed buff or whatever. Buff just means “magical enhancement of a characteristic” basically. So we just need to find a way to see if cycling magic through your muscles increases your ability to do something, be it lift a weight or run a short race or something like that. Are you all familiar with something called The Scientific Method?”

“They taught that in science class in school, Cure. You’ll get into that more in a few years,” Title explains.

“Right, sorry, not trying to be condescending, but remember I said that humans were technologically quite a bit advanced compared to ponies. Basically where we are now is about where humans were between one and three hundred years ago. It varies a bit, probably because of the availability of magic and different stressors influencing technological development, but in some areas humans are so far advanced I don’t even know how to get there from here.” Cure pauses to take a few sips of water.

Taking a deep breath he continues, “So basically, it is my belief that if we, as a family, begin developing our magical abilities that within a few years we would probably be the healthiest family in the entire city, if not the country. Just like us, there’s hundreds of thousands of earth ponies that are just going through their normal lives and never considering that they have this huge untapped potential. Dam, you could quite possibly learn to focus your abilities on growing and end up being one of the most productive farmers Equestria has ever seen. Per square meter farmed, at least. Applying magic to your specialities is a little less clear cut,” Cure says while waving his hoof at Deed and Title. “Still, both of your cutie marks are still related to land usage, just different aspects of it. That aside, you could both learn to focus your magic on your bodies and come out stronger and healthier. Title, I don’t know enough to say, but I highly suspect that a pregnant earth pony may be able to focus their magic in and around the fetus, which would likely increase the health and development of the foal. I don’t really know, but maybe it would even decrease the duration of the pregnancy. Again, I’m really guessing here, but our abilities are already tied to biology so it’s not outside of what I consider possible. Ideally, I want to see us all live long, healthy lives. And I wouldn’t be sad if I had a whole bunch of little brothers and sisters to dote on,” he added, winking at Deed.

Vines and Title couldn’t help but laugh at the beaming smile Deed aimed at his son. A quiet “Such a good colt!” escaping his lips.

Vines got herself under control and, after a moment of thought, looked to the others. “Seriously, though. If what Cure is saying is true then I think this is something we should look into. I’d normally chalk this up to the ramblings of a foal but I don’t see the harm in a little experimenting.” She paused, looking Deed up and down, “Plus a little more exercise wouldn’t hurt, would it, my big, strong stallion?” she asked, fluttering her eyelashes.

“Okay, before dad backflips off the cushion, let’s plan to go test some of these theories out over the weekend. Dam, I’d really like it if we could work in the garden tomorrow. We can get everything replanted that you sold earlier and maybe test some stuff. How’s that sound?” he asks as he looks up at her.

Vines squeezes Cure between her forelegs and nuzzles between his ears. “That sounds wonderful, sweetheart. I’ve always enjoyed working in the garden with you. I never really thought I could get you out there willingly, though,” She said with a gentle smile. Between the physical connection to his dam and the love in her eyes he feels a lot better than he had all week. The guilt is all but gone, though the heartache is still present.

Still, it feels a bit more distant than it had earlier, and he can’t thank his luck enough for giving him such a loving family for a second time. He had more than a few friends who had shit parents when he was growing up on Earth. It wasn’t as obvious as a kid, but when he was an adult in his twenties he could pretty easily look at his childhood and realize how fortunate he had been. Many of his friends’ parents were divorced and remarried, or just single at that point. And that’s not even getting into the hot mess a step parent could be.

He hadn’t dated much in high school, and only a few times in college, so he never really had to be alone. His older sister though… he tried to help Angie out when her husband left her. Thank God they only had one son together and he at least waited until the boy was school aged to bail.

That’s better than he could say for Mike, his kids’ sperm donor. He went off fucking around and racking up bills barely two months after McKynzie was born. Ed didn’t meet Cyndi until Kynzie was almost three and it took another year or two, plus the threat of another man usurping his position as “dad” before he started acting even remotely like a father to his daughter. He knew a few guys that doted on their sons more than their daughters, but to actually see Mike treat his little girl like a bother rather than a daughter always made Ed really hate the guy deep down.

Still, he kept it as friendly as he could. Fighting with the kids’ dad wouldn’t do any good and being a good father to them kept him in line better than threats or violence ever could. Plus deep down he knew that all he’d really have to do was sic his own mother on Mike and he’d either get his shit back together or, more likely, wake up to a few good ol’ Italian boys standing over his bed. Mom’s family did not fuck around, and guys that treated family bad had disappeared before only to show up at the ER later with their shit kicked in.

All of those experiences showed Cure how fortunate he was, though. He really expected at least some doubt, but looking at his family he saw only love and support. Both were sorely needed by the old soul in the young body. He was pretty sure he was feeling a lot more emotional than he would have as a human. That made a lot of sense though since emotions are affected by body chemistry, and ponies are all about the emotions compared to the stoic man his previous culture pushed him to be.

“Okay, so I’m sure you all have about a million questions for me about… well, everything. Fire when ready.”

Title just about jumped off her cushion, causing Deed to almost tumble to the side. “Ooh! You said human technology is super advanced. How’d they get there? What was it like? I don’t even really know where to start.”

“Sure, yeah. Big disclaimer here. I was not a history major, so a lot of what I’m going to talk about here comes from my shoddy memory and vague understanding, okay?” He continues at Title’s nod, “Well, humans use the term “ages” to roughly define the overall technology level of a civilization. Fifty or so thousands of years ago humans were nomadic. They would travel to an area as a tribe., hunt, eat, and really didn’t do much as far as setting down roots other than maybe some basic farming. That was what we called the Stone Age. I don’t know exactly what changed, but at some point tools developed enough that humans could farm enough food that they didn’t have to hunt an area to exhaustion. They learned to build more permanent settlements by cutting down wood, making rope, and so forth. What came next were a few different “ages” associated with metals. I think that started roughly six thousand years ago with the Bronze Age. It was one of the earliest metals that was suitable to use for reliable tools, but pliable enough to forge into those tools without a lot of advanced smithing techniques. Does that kind of match up with pony history so far?”

“It sounds about right. Though I don’t think our Bronze Age was that long ago. Earth pony tribes had iron and used it in weapons and armor during the Classic Era.” Everypony turned to listen to Title’s brief lesson. “Cold Iron was used to protect from the spells unicorns would throw at them. We don’t have good dates because so much was lost during the Age of Chaos, but some of those sets of armor are still in museums and they peg them at around three to four thousand years old. My parents took me to see them at the Fillydelphia Museum of History when I was a little older than you.”

Cure looked at Title with fascination clear in his eyes. “That sounds really neat. Maybe we could go visit sometime. I wasn’t really INTO history, but some of that stuff was pretty fun to learn about. No tours, though, please. At least in human museums the tour guides did that whole “I’m so super excited to be leading this tour I’m about to explode” thing and that just ruined it for me.” All three adults had to nod at that. It seems like obnoxious, overly enthusiastic tour guides are just another universal constant.

Taking another drink, Cure continued, “Well anyhow, the bronze age is where civilization really started and it lasted from about five or six thousand years ago until about three thousand years ago when ironworking largely replaced it. Let me pause here for a moment or two, though, because what happens next is probably going to disturb you all a little bit.”

Cure stopped and looked up at his dam, then to his sire and mom as they all hesitantly nodded back to him.

“Go ahead, Cure. I know a lot of that early history is brutal. Your moms and I can take it.”

“Okay. So even in the Age of Bronze, a lot of technological development was driven by war. Usually the way it happened was one group would find a better way to make weapons, armor, food, or whatever other thing civilizations would need to progress. Another civilization would find out about it, want it, and find some way to take it. Usually through violence. Or the civilization that made the discovery would use whatever advantage it gave them to conquer their neighbors and expand their power. It’s probably not that different from what the tribes did, but humanity has had a lot of time to dig into its own past and document it a lot better than pony society has.”

“Well, I’m getting way too much into the details, but after Bronze came Iron. I think the Age of Iron really only ended a couple hundred years ago when humans learned how to make steel in large quantities. Again, I don’t really know my history that well, so I’m not sure if cheap steel led to the Industrial Revolution or if it was the other way around, but I know they happened around the same time. Humans built factories the size of small towns where literally everything and anything could be produced by the wagonful. I’m talking about everything from your frying pans to furniture to weapons. Suddenly it didn’t take a crafter hundreds of hours to make something. Humans figured out how to set up assembly lines and machines that could, with very little training, be fed materials and crank out hundreds of units per day. After all, it’s not the person doing the actual crafting. The machine is making the same thing thousands of times over, so the person just needs to know how to operate and maintain the machine.”

“Oh… wow. Yeah that would kind of change everything, wouldn’t it?” Title asked while looking up in thought. “Everypony could basically get whatever they wanted if there was a factory nearby. That… would change EVERYTHING…” she drifted off, clearly in deep thought.

“Yes, and it did. Hence the “revolution” part of the name. Again, that started about a hundred years before I was born. It changed the entire planet and it turned the country I lived in into a superpower. The country I lived in went from being just one of a dozen or two influential players in the game to, over the course of fifty or sixty years, becoming the world leader in just about every way. There was a lot more than technology that was involved in that, and more blood spilled to get there than you have ever heard of in all the histories of this world you could ever read.”

“Okay, so if that was a hundred years ago what “age” are humans in now?” Vines asked.

“I don’t know if there’s some official group that designates the name of an age, but as I understand it, humanity was in the “Age of Information” during my lifetime. We developed technology that was able to take information input into it, analyze it, make theories or guesses based off of it, and give results that led to further development possibilities. I know that doesn’t sound like much and is really kind of confusing, but imagine creating a technology that can learn. Not only can it learn from you, it can learn from itself, its environment. It can learn from what it sees and experiences and can come up with solutions to problems or ways to prevent them that would require knowledge about so many different subjects that nopony could possibly have access to. Or instead, it would require such an in-depth knowledge on a subject that it would take a pony the majority of their life to reach that level of understanding, but instead of dying from old age that knowledge is saved instead and continues to be used to go even farther. That’s the power of information.”

“It… sounds fascinating, Cure. I don’t think I’m quite following what you mean, though,” Deed said. “I think my brain has had more shoved in it in one evening than I have since I was a colt. It’s not built for this kind of work!”

“Okay, one example then. I probably could talk for hours about just about anything you asked me. Cyndi always said I knew almost everything about almost everything. One of these days I’ll talk about planets, stars, and galaxies and really blow your minds. Anyhow, a good example of how information can change the world. Well, let’s use something you’re familiar with so it’s easier to follow along. Just imagine you had a big, tall bookcase over there against the wall.” Every head turned towards the wall Cure waved his hoof at. It was currently entirely bookcase-less… for now.

“Picture a bookcase Six shelves tall, wider than you are long. Now imagine that the bookshelf was completely full of books. I imagine it would take a few books just to cover all of the laws that are related to real estate… and if law books here are like they were on Earth, they’d probably flatten me if I tried carrying one. Anyhow, books covering every aspect of the law are on the shelf. Next, there’s all the books, ledgers, contracts, tax records, and so forth regarding every purchase of land or buildings that have ever changed hooves in this city, going back to the day it was founded. Next, there’s several books related to all of the things that change the value of a property. Availability of education, quality of healthcare, availability of food, crime rates, city services, utilities, noise complaints, local weather, economic indicators, so forth and so on. Basically, every single tiny shred of information is in that bookcase that you or anyone that does your job could ever hope to have available. Now… imagine there is a magical spell on that bookcase. In order to find any piece of information you simply walk up to it, tell it what you want to know, and within a few seconds a piece of paper materializes in front of you listing every book that could answer your question. It tells you what page to find the information in and it gives you a small excerpt that contains what you asked about so you know if it’s really exactly what you’re trying to find. Not only that, but if the information isn’t in one of those books directly, it can read through all of them and formulate an answer based off of the raw information present in all of those books put together.”

Cure paused while all of them were still, inexplicably, staring at the empty spot on the wall. He manages to fight the urge to roll his eyes. I swear… ponies.

It took a few minutes before Deed turned back around to look at him. “Son… I’d like to buy this bookcase, if you don’t mind. And while we’re at it, you write down how you made the thing and we’ll go around selling bookcases for the rest of our lives and we’ll make millions!”

Deed was pretty proud of himself with that one. The good ‘ol triple facehoof. Cure wasn’t sure if the smug could be removed from his face with an angle grinder.

With the deepest of sighs Cure continued, “Yeah… well, now you have an idea of what I mean when I talk about the power of information. Now broaden the scope and, instead of just being about real estate, that magic bookcase can answer your question about almost ANYTHING. Literally, anything. Want to know about chemistry? Search for it. How is cheese made? You got it. Have a bunch of ingredients and you’re not sure what to make for dinner? Ask the bookcase. Whether it’s something everypony should know or something that would take years of studying at a top university, the bookcase can give you the answer in a few seconds in as much detail as you could ever hope for. That is what humanity developed. Except you could access that bookcase on a device that would fit in your hoof, can be carried anywhere in the country, and can do dozens of other useful things like take pictures, record audio, or talk to another human from across the world.”

Leaning back into his mother, Cure takes in a deep breath and slowly blows out the stress of the day. The last several days. Hell, basically all the stress from when they started showing symptoms. He knows, intellectually, that it’s been the better part of a decade since everything happened on Earth, but it still feels like just the last few weeks. He knows he can’t just keep looping back on that, though, so he sits back up and takes another sip of his water.

“So… I’m sure there’s other questions. Who’s next?”

Vines leans down again to give him another nuzzle. She looks a little unsure, but curiosity wins out in the end. “I’m pretty sure you said humans used to hunt an area to exhaustion. Did you do much hunting?”

“Hah! No. I went hunting a few times with my dad when I was little, but after one time watching him after he got a squirrel and I was done with that,” he waved his hoof dismissively. “Only a small percent of humans still hunt and the majority of them are doing it as much to keep the animal populations in check as anything else. I’ll be honest with you, though… humans are predators, there’s no denying that. Just off the top of my head I would say that about a tenth to maybe a third of a human’s diet is meat. Remember, though, there’s no other sapient races on the planet. If it suddenly came out that someone was using a creature that could talk as a food source I can’t even imagine what would happen to them. They’d probably never see the outside of a jail cell again. Also, the meat that humans eat is harvested in as… well the word “humane” may not translate here. Uhh...” Cure looks at everyone searchingly while holding out his hoof.

“Friendly? Benevolent? Harmless?” Title supplies.

“Benevolent is probably the best one there. Animals used as food are very well taken care of. Their lives are made as good as they can, usually, and when it’s their turn the methods of killing them are supposedly quick and pain-free. They basically never know what happened.”

“Well…” Vines looks a little disturbed by the answer, but pushes on, “I guess humans need to eat too. We have carnivorous species as well and, unlike what you’re saying about humans, they don’t have a lot of qualms about eating intelligent beings. The princess took exception to the griffons’ last invasion and, from what the ponies that came back with her said, she made it very clear that ponies are never to be on the menu again.”

“A few points to keep in mind. Humans cannot digest a lot of the stuff ponies can. Hay, grasses, flowers, and stuff like that. It would go in and just come right back out, or make them sick. Until twenty or thirty years ago when we’d learned enough about nutrients we really just didn’t have a way to get the proteins and some of the vitamins that are found in meat that humans absolutely have to have to survive. There are vegetarians and vegans, but the stereotype for them is scrawny and weak. I don’t think that has to be the case, but avoiding meat is a whole lot harder than you’d think. Taste buds are also quite a bit different for omnivorous and carnivorous creatures. Raw vegetables are several times more flavorful as a pony than they were as a human. I used to hate beets. I didn’t care much for carrots either. Now they just about taste like candy compared to before.”

“So I hafta ask, son. Did humans eat those ponies you had on Earth?” Deed asked.

“Not really, no. Ponies and horses fell much more into the companion group than the food one. Ponies on earth are only about waist to chest height on a human, with miniature versions that would only come up to their knee. If anything, ponies on earth are seen more as pets. I’ve never eaten pony meat before. I did have a burger made from horse meat, but it was tough and didn’t have much flavor. Flavor in meat comes more from the fat than muscle, so fattier animals were used more for their meat. Again I want to emphasize, none of these animals were intelligent, just pure, dumb animals. That being said, cows are freaking delicious. Pigs too.”

Deed busted out laughing causing Title to squeak and jump from the sudden change in her husband. She grabbed a pillow in her teeth and whacked him upside his head while he just laid on the cushion laughing his flanks off. “What in the world is wrong with you? All this talk about eating meat and you bark out a laugh? I damn near jumped out of my skin you dolt!”

“Ohh I needed that. Back when I worked on Auntie Bean’s farm they had a herd of cattle. Those gals were something else, I’ll tell ya. A stallion couldn’t walk within a hundred meters of them without them eying him up, inviting him to come take a taste of some “delicious milky treats'' while swayin their hips back and forth. You’d think those girls are in estrus all year long the way they’d cattle call to the stallions workin the farm. Well one day, cousin Pole disappeared for a while and so did all the cows. We looked all over for him and finally caught him tryin to sneak outta the barn full of those girls, big white smears all over his muzzle.” Deed stops and busts out laughing again, though he’s not alone this time. Cure’s not sure if he’s more amused or squicked out, but when in Rome. “Well Auntie Bean just about had a heart attack. She read him the riot act while he’s sittin there squirmin trying to hold back the trots because of all the milk sloshin in his belly. She told that poor colt that he better not have been buryin his Pole Jr. in them cows or he’d be wakin up to warm milk for breakfast for the rest of his life. HAHAHA!” Deed pauses to suck in another lungful of air. “We called him Milk Mustache the rest of the summer, kept putting empty cups with a cookie next to his stuff whenever he started a shift! We’d write notes like “Come fill ‘er up, stud” and would stick' em in the cup! BAHAHAHA”

Vines can stop herself from chuckling, even though she’s trying. “That poor colt. You all probably gave him a complex or something. I hope you didn’t drive him out of town with all that teasing.”

“Nah, he’s fine. He’s married now. We give him a bit of a time at the family get-togethers but he ended up marrying some unicorn from out west closer to Canterlot. From what I’ve seen she keeps him on a real short leash, though. Probably for the best. I think he finally knocked her up this year.”

“Well, it’s getting late,” Vines started, “and all little colts, even you, need their sleep. You get upstairs, brush them teeth, and get in bed. Make room for me too because I’m not letting my baby sleep by himself tonight, you hear me? Then we got lots of work to get done tomorrow morning,” she says as she noses him off the cushion.

“Yeah, get over here, squirt. Don’t think I won’t get that belly again if you don’t give your pa a big hug. Show your mom some love too, she’s a needy mare, son.” Deed adds while ducking under another pillow. He gathers up Cure in his forehooves and gives him a big hug, then leans down and plants a wet smooch right between Cure’s ears. “Now son, no matter how much you want a midnight snack, you’re not allowed to roll over and gobble up your dam. She’s a very good cook and that one late night meal isn’t worth all the future dinners you’ll miss out on, okay? Besides, I can tell you from experience that she does bite back.” Like any good hostage taker, Deed makes sure to hold his son between himself and the mare that’s staring daggers at him.

“I’ll try real hard, pa. No promises though.”

Nodding, he sets Cure down. “That’s all I can ask, son.”

Cure gets passed over to Title next. He can feel his little ears drooping from the day’s trials. A quick kiss, nuzzle, and “goodnight, love you” later and he’s on his way upstairs to get ready for bed.

The adults watch him go up and all let out a huge, collective sigh. “Not even close to what I expected.” Title lets out.

“No. That was definitely not in any of the books you made me read when you were pregnant, honey.” Deed looks over to Vines. “So I have to say that I can’t find it in me not to believe what he’s saying. There’s not an eight-year-old colt on the planet that could fake that. I don’t even think even a veteran actor with prep time could have been that convincing. Whatever actually happened to him, he’s got a noggin full of something that doesn’t sound like it came from this world.”

“So what do we do? Leaving aside all of the “knowing the future” stuff, I don’t want anyone to think they can get ideas out of him. That bookcase idea alone… I’ve never even imagined anything like that. He just threw it out there like it was an everyday thing to him. I bet you some unicorn at a university in Canterlot would pay a foreleg for an idea like that and that’s just off the top of his head.” Vines shakes her head with worry and looks to her mates. “For now, we need to be there for him. I was there when grandpa got the news that grandma didn’t pull through her surgery. I know what grief looks like. My little colt is hurting and the princess herself wouldn’t take him away from me, I’ll tell you what.”

Title looks at her mates and excitedly adds in, “Now I know you’re both worried. I am too, but keep this in mind. That colt has something no other creature on this planet has. He’s got potential to change the world if half what’s in his head pans out. You’re absolutely right, Vines. We need to get him through this, then we give him space to bloom and, you know what, I bet that colt’s going to be the next Smart Cookie or maybe even Starswirl himself,” she says, nodding resolutely. She moves next to her sister-wife and leans against her. “Vines, honey, if you think he needs me or Deed for some extra support you just let us know. There’s nothing going on in the office I can’t handle from home if need be… at least, for a few days. If Deed doesn’t have a showing or a meeting scheduled we can afford to let Cure have some more male-bonding time with his sire. He, and really, all of us will come out better in the end as long as he knows we’re here for him.”

With their course settled the adults clean up the room, put the cushions back where they belong, and head upstairs to get ready for bed. Title and Deed climb in their bed and are asleep within moments of laying down, Deed on his back with Title laying on her side with her legs across his belly.

Vines finds her son laying on his belly, awake in bed. She climbs in and wraps herself around him like a momma cat, nuzzling him gently while licking the back of his ears and top of his mane clean. He lays down in the gap between her back and front legs on his side with his neck and head against her chest. She gently hums him a lullaby and his eyes slowly close as he nods off to sleep, bathed in his dam’s comforting scent and surrounded by her warmth. Once he’s out Vines leans down and places a gentle kiss on his muzzle, and joins the rest of the house in slumber.

Chapter 5: First Lessons

Tuesday, September 2nd, 908 AB

Cure woke up as gently as the sun rose over the east. He found himself still wrapped in his dam’s legs, held gently against her chest and warm belly. It occurred to him that he had probably never slept so well in either lifetime, and added a data point to the “ponies aren’t meant to sleep alone” thought rattling around in his head. It was either the slightly movement or the change in his breathing, but either way Vines magically came-to just a few minutes later. She gently reached down and gave him another quick kiss between his ears, then nuzzled the side of her face half way down his mane. A moment later she finally let him go and stretched out on his bed like a cat just waking up from a nap.

Huh… ponies are way shorter than people but I’ll be damned if she isn’t probably almost six feet from snout to rear. My sire is about a hoof taller than my dam… are ponies actually larger than humans? Wait... they have to be. Ponies on Earth were a lot heavier than people and they weren't muscular like my parents are. I wonder how much she weighs. I think I'll hold off on asking... probably not a good way to start the day. I wonder if I’ll end up being taller if I learn to use magic right. I liked being tall before. Dunno why, but the thought of being under 6 foot again really bothers me.

Edward wasn’t a huge guy, but at 6’2” and pushing 220, he sure as hell wasn’t worried about a strong breeze taking him away. He wasn’t overly wide, either. He’d go to the gym once or twice a week to maintain, but never really saw any benefit once he started benching in the mid-200s, so he kept up a mostly-cardio routine in the hopes that he wouldn’t go through all the heart trouble that plagued his mom’s side of the family. Fucking Italian genes. Her family didn't help themselves with their propensity to load everything in cheese either. Technically, he DID avoid heart trouble… just not exactly the way he intended to.

Clearly fat people were on to something. All that working out and I could have just been pounding cheeseburgers my whole life and came out even. Meh, Cyndi appreciated the effort. A lot. Well at least it won’t be hard for me to maintain those habits now. I’m really dying to see how much stronger magic can make me, though… shame it’ll be five or six years before I can start doing the real heavy stuff.

Rolling onto his back, Cure does his best to match his dam’s stretch and lets out a yawn big enough to make the curtains sway. “Oh wow. That was the best sleep I’ve ever had. Like… ever. Thanks for staying with me, dam. Love you.” He climbs onto his hooves, and basically flops on his dam, wrapping his legs around her neck, then gives her a quick peck on the cheek before jumping off the bed and heading to the potty.

Vines can’t stop the smile splitting her face. She gets up and checks on the property duo and finds them getting breakfast ready downstairs. A quick pit stop in the bathroom by the master bedroom and she’s ready to go. Normally she would shower for the day, but since the plan is to work in the garden she figures she might as well wait until afterwards to clean up.

Breakfast is served and, even though everyone is awake and ready to go, conversation is minimal. Finally it’s time to get started on the day. Vines and Cure head to the living room to discuss their plans.

“So before we get started I think it’s a good idea to figure out what we know for sure. I know I’m kind of at the age where a colt would start learning some basic stuff. What do they typically teach in school?”

“Oh, honey. They don’t teach magic in school at all other than giving the absolute basics. Pegasus use it to walk on clouds, control the weather, and fly. Unicorns use it for basically everything. The only thing they taught us in school was that earth ponies are stronger and can grow plants better. If a pony wanted to learn more about it I’d assume there’s schools dedicated to teaching farming practices, but everything I learned was from working with my dam and mothers growing up.”

“Okay. Wow. That’s… almost criminally ridiculous. I’m still not sure if this is some kind of intentional cover-up, the knowledge was lost over time, or if somehow nobody has ever bothered actually documenting this. Let me go get my notebook and a pencil first. Should have really brought those down with me.” Cure scampers up the steps, gets his stuff, and heads back down. Sitting against his dam’s front legs he opens the notebook up to the page he started the day before.

“Okay, so when you go through the science classes Title was talking about, what do they teach you about biology and chemistry, exactly? Is it just an overview or do you get down into the chemical makeup of sugars, chlorophyll, and other biochemicals like that?”

Vines reads through her son’s notes while paying enough attention to muddle through her response. “Uhh… they gave us seeds and showed us some basics about where to plant them, how to tend to the soil, what animals need to be healthy. What’s this you have written about pushing magic into stuff? I thought only unicorns could do that.”

“I… wait… what? Why wouldn’t earth ponies and pegasus be able to … well, extrude, I guess, magic? I assume pegasus have some control over wind by pushing their magic out into the air through their wings. We can do that with our hooves. Haven’t you ever seen the magic flowing out of your hooves into the ground?”

Vines looks down at her thoroughly baffled son. “No. I have not.” She says with certainty while shaking her head. “And I literally have never heard of an earth pony doing that ever, at all. Is this something you can do?” she asks with a raised eyebrow.

“Umm… yeah. Here, watch.” He moves a few steps away, turns around, and sits on his haunches. “I’m going to just cycle my magic through my forelegs. I think it will give off a glow, but give me a second to visualize this. I didn’t try it yesterday, not this way at least.”

Placing his hooves together, he imagines his magic flowing again. This time, instead of flowing out of his right hoof and into the ground or in the air it’s flowing back up his left leg and rejoining the rest in the endless current flowing through his body. He expected to feel something from it, but nothing really changes. As he slowly increases the speed of the current he can feel a tingly warmth building in his legs. Slowly, his legs and hooves are gaining an ethereal, chocolatey glow like yesterday. It makes him think of a chocolate fountain at a buffet or something. Moving his hooves apart a few inches, he looks up at his dam who is just kind of sitting there watching him. “Well? Can you see that?” At her confused look he starts doubting she can, “You can't, can you?"

“Sweetie, other than you sitting there I don’t see anything. Should I?”

“Umm… yes. I can see something. I see basically like a glowing aura around my legs… and a stream between my forehooves. It’s the same color as my eyes. From what I understand, that's normal. The color of a pony’s aura usually matches their eye color. Something about eyes being the window to your soul, I think. Anyhow, I’ve kind of half-expected this. I read at least one or two Equestria stories with my granddaughter where only some ponies could actually see magic like this,” he says, motioning to his eyes. Thinking for a moment, he continues, “Well let’s go outside then and, even if you can’t see the actual manifestation of the magic directly you will be able to see the results of it. Then maybe we can work on how you visualize magic and get you to the point where you can intentionally kind of push it out. Plus, daylight’s burning.”

Leading the way out to his experiment corner of the garden, Cure sets down his notebook and moves to the side to show his dam what he’d done yesterday.

“I know you kind of glanced over my notes. Well, you can see these few little sprouts over here. Those are the ones I was testing with first.” Next, he motions to the two more developed plants. The darker one is noticeably larger already; nearly a third again the size of the last one.

“The smaller of the two is actually my control plant. I didn’t think to do it first… was kind of excited, really, to be playing with magic. That’s something I ever thought I’d be able to do, before.” He looks up at Vines. She’s clearly puzzled looking at the darker plant. Gently, she reaches down and gives it a little sniff and looks over the leaves.

“Your notes said you were trying to make this one… well, better for lack of a better term, right?”

“Yep.” With a proud smile, Cure explains, “Basically my theory is that, at least to some degree, magic is kind of an automatic thing. We don’t really have to understand every tiny detail when we’re using it. Unicorns might when they’re casting a spell, and that’s probably why most of them don’t learn to do anything but telekinesis and maybe one or two other spells. For earth ponies it’s more like a pegasus and their wings. They don’t necessarily have to think about how the magic is making them lighter or moving the air, or doing whatever it actually does that makes them able to fly. I’ve seen their wings move. It’s nowhere fast enough to generate enough lift to get a pony off the ground, so I don’t really know the exact mechanic there.”

Vines watches bemused as Cure scrawls “Pegasus flying - How???” on another page and looks up at her. “Still, you know what I mean, right? If you focus on what you’re trying to achieve and kind of direct your magic towards that goal then it should work. Now one thing I think makes a difference is if you have the underlying knowledge that you can use to map out exactly how it should work without magic. Does that make sense?”

At Vines’ hesitant nod Cure continues, “Just as an example, I want to use magic to be stronger. I focus on my magic, picture it flowing through my muscles with the intent to make them better. I might be a little stronger now, but what if I take that visualization to the next level? Instead of just thinking,” he switches to his caveman voice, “me pump in magic, me super stronk, lift big rock, get all da mares!” he grunts while flexing his forelegs. Vines is cracking up watching his act. “Instead, I think it would work better if I actually pictured the muscle fibers in my legs tightening up. I picture my lungs absorbing more oxygen. The blood, full of it now, channels through my arteries into the muscles. They absorb that air and tap into my fat stores for energy. Full of energy, bursting with all the fuel they need to explode, my muscles are pumped with magic now, mitochondria surging ready to get to work. If I visualize all that I’m betting I can get a lot more out of it, or use less magic doing so. I’ve filled in the gaps, told my magic more details about what I want to happen, so less is being used than if I just kind of flooded the whole area and said “do this”. Right?”

“Uhh… yeah. That makes sense honey. I think maybe your visualizations are a bit more detailed than I can usually do, though. I don’t even know what a micro tondia is, sweetie.”

“It’s part of your cells. It’s what powers them.”

“Cells?”

“Oh. Uhh… yeah. Let’s shelve that for now. Just really quickly, cells are what makes up a living organism. Walls are made of smaller stones; plants, animals, anything living are made up of trillions of tiny things called cells. Anyhow, let’s move on before we get too thick into it.”

“Cure I know you’re not meaning too, sweetie, but you got your dam feeling a little dumb over here,” Vines puts on a big pout and looks at her son.

“Oh stop that. I know a fake pout when I see one. You’re talking to someone that raised two kids and a granddaughter. It doesn’t work nearly as well when I have to look up at you, ya know? Besides, we all know you’re not dumb. I spent almost twenty years of my life in four different schools for my education. How many years of schooling did they put you through?”

“Twenty years? Oh… wow. That makes me feel better, at least. Normally ponies only go to school until they’re about fourteen or fifteen at the latest. Once a pony gets their cutie mark they normally go find a job or maybe go to school for something specific to it. Why in the world do they keep humans in school for two decades?”

“Age of Information, remember? Knowledge is power, dam. Sometimes very literally, like with magic, but on Earth if you want to be successful you normally have to progress your education to the point where you stand at the edge of understanding in your subject. That’s how a society progresses. Each generation takes everything the previous one does, starts there, and goes as far as they can beyond it. We start at age five or six. Kids that stop their schooling at eighteen are going to really struggle to make a living, but they should get by. Most go to 22 or 23, some beyond that. I had what’s called a bachelor’s degree at 23 and my master’s just a bit before I turned 25.”

Looking back down at his notes, Cure waves at the plants. “We got way off topic… again. I think I’m at fault on that one. So first I’ll show you what I did to get these first few plants germinating, then I’ll talk you through my later two experiments. That will probably make me a little tired, so I’ll kind of rest while I talk you through doing the same thing. Then how about we just do some regular work, get cleaned up for lunch, and then wrap up with a few more magic experiments before we call and get cleaned up for the day. Maybe we’ll have time for a nap before dinner. I suspect we’ll both be pretty tired by this afternoon.”

“That sounds really fun, honey. I’m super excited to learn how you did this.” She said as she motioned towards the darker plant. “If you’re right about this thing alone I could probably go to the market more often. I wonder if you can make melons juicier or sweeter too!”

“Good questions. Shame we can’t test them right away, but we should probably map out the garden and keep track of what we do where so we know what ends up being successful and what we can’t really pull off right now.”

Working together, Vines and Cure reproduce the layout of the garden in his notebook. The vast majority of it will remain normal plants, but with some stakes and twine Vines had in her shed they mark off areas where they can do some experiments.

It takes a little time and some meditative exercises, but within an hour of starting Vines is able to visualize her magic and get it flowing in the same way Cure was able to. He had to explain the cardiovascular system to her a few times, which was a bit more difficult without being able to see the blue veins running under his skin for examples, but using some ideas he ripped off of stupid, shitty xianxia stories about getting qi flowing he successfully got magic flowing to Vines’ hooves, back into her body, through her lungs, into her muscles, and just all over the place.

“Cure, baby… I want you to know right now, no matter what happens or what anyone tells you… I have never felt better in my entire life than I do right now. You have to be on to something. I feel like I could run up a mountain and back without breaking a sweat. I doubt I actually could, but I sure feel like it. This is the most amazing thing I’ve ever experienced!” Vines exclaimed while looking her body all over.

Cure couldn’t actually see anything different about her, but he assumed she was feeling something like a runner’s high. He only experienced that once before, right around the two mile mark of a five K run. He was about twenty minutes in and, all the sudden it was like someone flipped his nitrous on. He didn’t take off by any means, but that incessant pounding of feet, the dull aching in his legs, the snot clogging his runny nose… it all just kind of vanished and, out of nowhere, he was gliding across the path instead of stomping its face in. He remembered that feeling the rest of his life, and from the look on his dam’s face she was getting that same endorphine kick.

“Dam? You’re still here with me, right? We didn’t fry your brain, did we?”

“HAH! No, baby, I just feel absolutely wonderful. Show me what’s next! This is so amazing!”

“It really is, isn’t it? This is what I meant when I said “we’re doing it wrong” last night. This right here is how you should always feel. Next we channel some of that energy flowing through your blood and we see if you can share it with some of your plants. Now, the cliché thing to do here is to overdo it and pass out, but we’re not some stupid scrubs, are we dam?”

“No we are not. We are champions, son!”

“You bet we are! Lets… grow stuff! Yeah!”

“Woo!”

“Okay, so the way I do it is I picture that flow going through me and I hold my hoof over the seeds or plant I’m wanting to work with. Your specialty is vining plants, so go real easy and just imagine you’re turning on the faucet a tiny, tiny bit to let some of that power flow out of you. Go ahead and show that plant whose boss, dam!”

Cure watched as Vines moved over to a section of melons they’d harvested the other day. They’d already put down some basic fertilizer and watered the area a bit. Ponies didn’t dump thousands of chemicals into their soil; just a bit to replace what was taken out by the last harvest. Eager to see what happens next, Cure moved off to the side. He had to hold back a laugh at the idea that the vines would all the sudden shoot at him and wrap him up like some bad hentai, but he kept a safe distance just in case. No way would he get in some fucked up magic accident like that. Still, unless his dam had some bizarre visuals going through her head he felt he was pretty safe.

Sure enough, his dam’s brilliant blue aura leaked slowly out of her left forehoof. It seeped into the ground, suffusing a large portion of the vines. An area about four meters on a side glowed with a beautiful aura a shade darker than his own coat. The change in the plants was slow and subtle, but he could see the vines extending and flowers budding all over. The aura slowly withdrew back into his dam and, with a pleased sigh it drew fully back into her. She turned and faced Cure with the biggest beaming smile he’d ever seen on her.

“Oh, honey. That was the most amazing feeling.” Vines unraveled her hooves from the now-covered ground. As she slowly made her way to her son, she said, “I haven’t felt like that since… well, honestly I’ve not felt like that since the first time they let me hold you after you were born.” Pausing to give him a thorough nuzzle, she continued, “It just felt… right. Like everything was right in the world. I just can’t believe it.” Laying in the dirt on her belly, she brings herself face-to-face with Cure. “I don’t know if we can keep this from everypony, baby. This should be shared with the world. For now we need to explore this, but promise me you won’t make me keep this to myself. Ponies need to know, Cure. They have to.”

“I know dam. We’ll get there eventually. How are you feeling? Tired?”

“A little. Not really. I could probably do that a few more times before I would need a break,” she says as she looks at the patch over her withers. “I can see why you said we’d need a nap later.”

Awkwardly, Cure looked his dam over. He wasn't completely sure she didn't get a little more pleasure from the experience than she was letting on, but he was more than happy to move on without asking his mom if she just came. "Not accusing here, or anything, but… uhh… you seem like you're maybe a little drunk. I think it's like a hormone release… kinda… thing. I don't think you'll get that same feeling every time though. That's probably a good thing."

Fucking fantastic. Now I'm picturing Celestia creaming her balcony every morning when she raises the sun. Paints the cheering crowd in a different light at her summer celebration though. Bet that would get the crowd in a party kinda mood. Thank you, God, for this prepubescent body not reacting at all.

"So I'm really proud of you, dam. I mean, these are all basically the first steps of a long journey, but I don't think most adults would just be okay with listening to the insane ramblings of a child, even their own. What you did out there today… that was amazing. I can't wait to show the others. Were you able to actually see your aura flowing in the vines? The area lit up like some kind of azure sunrise to me. It was beautiful. Magnificent, really."

Giggling, Vines wraps Cure up in a tight embrace. "I wish I could, sweetie, but no. I couldn't visually see it. I sure could feel it surrounding me, though. Thank you, my sweet magic colt."

As she sits up on her haunches she gently sets him down. "So we still have a lot of work to do. How about you take care of the plants you want to experiment on. I'll work on my namesake; cucumbers, melons, tomatoes and such. Then we can reseed the root plants like carrots and onions. I traded for some seeds yesterday and I know Title would be thrilled to have some fresh daffodils or daisies for her salads and sandwiches."

"Sounds good, dam. Love you."

"I love you too, sweetie," she said with a quick nuzzle, "let's get to work!"

And work they did. Cure repeated what he dubbed his "super plant" process with a variety of seeds. Spreading Vines did indeed live up to her namesake and easily got a week's work done throughout the day.

They broke for a quick scrub and lunch break around noon but we're back at it within a half hour.

By about three in the afternoon Vines declared their work done for the day. They put the few tools they needed away, stowed the supplies and leftover seeds in storage in the shed, and made their way into the house to get cleaned up.

Cure swore to himself that no matter what he is still going to be their little colt, with everything that comes with it. He knows the feeling of seeing a child grow up and no longer needing their parents. The last thing he would do is take that away from his family so early on. He's also aware enough to realize that he needs the love and support as much as anypony.

With all of that in mind he voices not one single objection to Vines babying and doting all over him, something she's absolutely thrilled to take advantage of. She carries him on her back like a proud momma, gets him in the tub, and proceeds to scrub them both from snout to tail, eartips to the bottom of their hooves.

It's quite possibly the happiest he's seen her… and, frankly, from the primate part of his brain, it was absolutely fucking adorable seeing a cute fuzzy pony in full-on momma mode.

If I could just record this shit and put it on Facebook or YouTube the whole internet would implode. Servers across the planet would literally melt from the entire collective of humanity slam clicking the replay button. Hell I'd even watch that shit. Those big, lovey eyes, the fuzzy wiggles, the cute squeaky noises. I'm going to die of severe hyperglycemia over here and, for all intents and purposes, I'm the victim in all this. God, no wonder every girl ever wanted a pony for Christmas. Hasbro has no idea what they unleashed.

Once they were cleaned, dried, and thoroughly groomed Vines carried Cure to bed and wrapped around him. They have both exhausted themselves, more magically than physically, so within minutes there are two snoring ponies cuddling in his room.

Chapter 7: Breakfast & Harvest

Wednesday, September 3rd, 908 AB

Title Search wakes up slowly the next morning. The warmth of a small body wrapped around her and the smell of a young colt helps her brain piece together where she is. Turning her head she looks out the window to see that the first rays of dawn are just peeking over the horizon. Glancing down she can still see the little miracle is sprawled out over her belly, head resting on her chest. The steady breathing from his snout slowly draws her fur in, then gently pushes it back away. She always wanted a little colt of her own, but the odds of ever having one are… well, not the best. Only about one in five foals are males, of course, so barring a bit of good luck she’ll probably end up with at least a few little fillies before her first colt comes along. That’s fine with her, though. She only had one sibling growing up, and with a good, stable family there really isn’t a huge rush on things, especially if Cure’s ideas pan out.

Everything is looking good right now for the future of the herd and she isn’t completely sure she shouldn’t feel at least a little guilty because some of it may be coming at the cost of the colt’s foalhood. From what he explained the other night, he lost both parents and a son over the course of seven years, then had to watch his mate die before him while barely getting enough air to keep on going. It’s no wonder he didn’t survive long without her. She can’t even imagine having to watch either of her mates suffer and pass like he had. A pony can only take so much, after all… even if they’re not a pony. There’s obviously a lot more similarities between ponies and humans than there are differences.

Title can barely wrap her head around the fact that the colt on her is actually twice her age, in a way. She gets it. It's undeniable. No pony as young as him would know what he knows. Title fancied herself a pretty well learned mare, but Cure threw words and concepts around that were beyond anything she'd heard come out of anypony's mouth before.

Deed was no dummy; if he was she wouldn't be with him, no matter how successful he was financially. He played the joker plenty and he couldn't keep a file cabinet organized to save his life, but she was confident he could sell cooling crystals to a yak if he had his head in the game. He might as well be an uneducated yokel compared to his son, though.

Vines, bless her beautiful heart, wasn’t as educated as either Deed or herself. She was still smart as anypony, but she obviously felt she had all the education she needed and, to her credit, she really can’t say that Vines was wrong. She knows everything she needs to raise foals, take care of the house, and is plenty capable of maintaining her little garden. She can cook, keeps the house clean, and contributes more than expected whenever she goes to the market. Now that their family situation is stable and they’re both going to be having more foals, Vines will be pulling her own weight and then some.

Cure, though… special didn't even start to cover it. He had about as many years of education as his parents have been alive. He remembers a culture where knowledge and the ability to use it could make or break somepony. And here he was snuggled into her like any adorable colt. Barely over eight and already wearing a mark that most ponies would be ecstatic to earn at any age. It takes a pony years of learning and work to become a qualified doctor, and for unicorns it requires a whole host of diagnosis spells that nopony else would normally bother learning.

Cure’s accomplishment didn’t sound like much, just cleaning up a small bruise and all, but Title knew enough to recognize how absurd that really was. There are no magic spells that could safely “heal” a pony. Period. There are spells to set bones, suture flesh, assist in surgery, and so forth… but to flat out heal a pony? Without a cutie mark specifically for that nopony would even know where to start… and she’d never seen a healing cutie mark in her life. He obviously has a whole mountain of stuff to learn, but from their conversation the other day he seems like just the pony for the job.

Gently rolling to her side, she lowers him down onto the bed. His ears are laying limp, but he still paws at her to make sure she is still there. Leaning down she starts grooming him, licking and nuzzling his mane to get it into some sort of style. Once that's done she starts on his ears, then the matted down fur on his neck and cheeks. It's only when she gets him mostly cleaned up for the day that he finally stirs and lets out an adorable little yawn. Rolling onto his back he stretches all of his legs as far as they can go until they’re quivering, then folds up with his little hooves curled on his chest. Not one to pass on such an invitation, Title gives his tummy a few gentle nibbles and licks to get his fur in order, all the while he starts squirming, then giggling under her ministrations.

“Good morning, sleepyhead. How’s the cutest little colt in all of Equestria today?”

“Blerg.”

“So eloquent, too,” she giggled. “Sleep well?”

“Yeah, mom,” he said as he snuggled back into her. “Slept like a baby. You?”

“Sure did. Your sire doesn’t snore often, but when he does. Oof.” She shakes her head. “And don’t even get me started on your dam. She’ll rattle a window right out of its frame.”

“Huh… they don’t stop breathing when they’re snoring, do they?”

“No, honey. I’m mostly just teasing. They just wear themselves out and then they’re out like a light.”

Title paused and considered whether she wanted to ask him something. He could see the gears turning in her head, so he just laid there waiting. Finally, he simply raises an eyebrow and asks her, “What are you thinking about, mom? I told you yesterday, you can ask me anything. I won’t keep anything from you, ever, unless it somehow puts somepony’s safety at risk… probably even then.”

“I was wondering if you’d be willing to look at the foal. I’m sorry if that’s too much, Cure, but since it’s my first and everything I just want to be sure everything is going well.”

“I can look. Really, it’s no problem. I’m not sure how to word it exactly, but the bottom line is I’ll try to keep everything related to that as professional as you’d expect from your own doctor. Humans took medical privacy incredibly seriously. Medical professionals could lose their licenses to practice their profession or, if it was a serious enough offense, could end up fined or even in prison. I don’t know what pony laws are like, but I’d only ever break my silence under the most extreme of circumstances. Like if a pony was a genuine threat to themselves or others.”

Cure sits up and puts his hooves on Title. She leans back so she’s half on her side, half on her back. Before starting, he looks over to her again just to make sure she’s okay with this. “Just keep in mind that I don’t know how not to look at everything. You know I definitely got more than I bargained for with dad yesterday. Are you sure you’re completely comfortable with all your business being laid out before me? It’s a pretty big invasion of privacy, you know.

“Sure, go ahead. I trust you completely, sweetie.”

Cure nods and begins focusing on his magic. “Okay, so the way I understand this worked with dad is that my aura kind of meshed in with his. I’m assuming you’ll feel that. I’m betting a pony could just flat out not let me in if they tried. I’ll need help experimenting with that at some point. You’ll have to kinda let our auras merge together, I think, so don’t push back against me here if you feel anything.”

Repeating the process he went through with Deed, Cure visualizes a copy of Title standing before him. Focusing on her womb and the life growing inside of it, he wills away the layers of fur, skin, bone, and other organs until he has a good view of her womb and the foal.

He can see the fetus, or at least what he thinks would be considered a fetus in a human. He doesn’t really know the pony terminology, but regardless he can see it sitting there inside Title. Without the experience of an ultrasound technician or a prenatal gynecologist or whoever the hell the right person would be he’s somewhat at a loss.

Well… it’s a thing. I can say that safely at this point. She’s definitely pregnant with some… form of life, I guess. Way to solve the mysteries of the universe, Cure.

“Well, I don’t honestly know what I should be seeing. I can tell you're pregnant, but you’re so early on that the … is fetus the right term for ponies too?” he pauses to ask Title. At her nod he continues, “OK. Thanks. Ugh, so much to learn. Anyhow, I can see the fetus. You’re at… what? About four and half months?”

“Yep, I think this weekend will be the start of week nineteen, assuming I conceived towards the end of spring estrus. I know sometimes it can actually take a few days later, but I could tell there was a difference almost the very next day.”

“Okay. Well, like I said, I don’t know what a fetus should look like right now. Humans have a machine called an ultrasound that could show us what a developing fetus looks like. I'm pretty sure you're at the point where they would do that, but there would be a dedicated technician whose full time job is reading those things. With my non-existent training and absolutely minimal knowledge about fetal development I’m hesitant to say. I don't see an obvious... appendage, but for all I know that doesn't pop out for a while, so it could still be either a boy or a girl.” At her amused look he rolls his eyes, “filly or colt. You know what I mean,” he scowls at her.

“So anyhow,“ he continues, “congratulations. You’re pregnant.” he nods decisively. “With, presumably, a pony no less. I know this is amazing news for you, and I’m glad you’re already lying down for it.”

Title giggles at his antics while giving him another nuzzle. “Well I’m sure your dam and sire will be thrilled to find out, Cure,” Title teases while sitting back up. “How about we use the potty and scrub our hooves and clean up, then go get something to eat? Filly or colt, either way, the little one is calling the shots right now.”

After the morning routine Cure goes down to find Vines and Deed are still getting ready in their room. Or getting busy, either way he’s not going to investigate. Asking for some help (basically, “you do the work while I give instructions”) from Title he offers to mix up the batter for some french toast. She says she doesn’t recognize the name despite the fact he was just waiting for her to say something like “oh you mean PRENCH toast? LOL PONEEZ” or something.

"So this will use up the rest of the bread. I think four eggs should be plenty. I'll also need about a half teaspoon of vanilla extract, a half cup of milk, a couple tablespoons of brown sugar, and a bit of cinnamon, a little nutmeg, some butter for the pan, then powdered sugar… or confectioner's sugar, same diff, to sprinkle on top. We'll want some maple syrup to pour over them like pancakes. Also if we have some fresh blueberries, blackberries, or raspberries they can be used as a topping… whipped cream is really good with the berries too. Ooh! Or Strawberries. I love those on french toast."

"Sounds fancy… and I think I’ve had something like that before. Will it take long to cook?" Title asks while gathering everything on the counter.

"No, depending on the pan size you can fry up two to four slices at a time. Or just heat up two pans if you don’t mind cleaning a second one. The egg is really the only thing that needs to be cooked, so you'll want to use the same heat and maybe just slightly more time than you would just cooking eggs by themselves. You can cook up half a loaf of bread in about six minutes with a big pan," he explains. “We had a griddle… a big, flat cooking surface that you can heat up all at once, and I would toss ten slices on there at time. Cyndi and I would usually have three and the kids only ate two most of the time. Sometimes we’d split a piece each so we’d all have two and a half slices when they got older. Or I’d just use a little more milk and add another egg and make a few extra. It was pretty useful because then we could all sit down and eat together,” he reminisced.

"Mix the egg, milk, brown sugar, vanilla, about a half teaspoon of cinnamon, and just a few dashes of nutmeg together in a shallow dish. Cinnamon won't really mix well, but some will soak in the bread. I always sprinkled a dash or two on the bread directly when it’s in the pan too, but Cyndi and the kids loved cinnamon, so…" he waves his hoof in a "there ya have it" motion.

"Anyhow, what you'll do is dip the bread slices in so some of the mixture soaks in. You don't want it totally saturated but if I estimated the mix right we should use just about all of it right when we're out of bread. Use too much and we’ll run out early and the bread will be a bit on the soggy side. Put a bit of butter in the pan and let it melt. That’ll keep them from sticking. Like I said, cook them at about the same temperature and time as an egg. You’ll want to flip them after about a minute or so. There should be three or so for each of us… ponies definitely eat more than humans. After you plate them, sprinkle some of the confectioner's sugar on for appearance more than flavor. The syrup and berries will add the sweetness," he added with a nod.

"I usually made bacon, sausage, or eggs with it but maybe we can cut up some bananas for some potassium and so we're not just filling up with nothing but carbs. We'll want something to kind of offset all that sugar and balance out the meal, after all. Plain yogurt maybe?" Cure thinks out loud. “I’m not really sure what all we have available.”

“Use the bananas up, sweetie. They’re getting a little ripe anyhow,” Vines called from the bottom of the stairs. Cure turned to see her and his sire just coming into view. “Morning, honey. Good morning, sweetie,” she greets Title and Cure with quick nuzzles and a kiss on the cheek. “It sounds like you’re making pan-fried breakfast bread. I haven’t cooked that up in a while. Never used brown sugar or nutmeg in mine, though. I’ll get the berries rinsed and dried, are you okay doing the bread itself, or do you want to trade?” she asks Title.

“I’ll get the bread ready. If you can get the berries ready that would be great. Deed, can you get some plates down and get the tea going?” Title called over her shoulder.

“Sure thing babe. I’ll get the table set and bring you a plate to stack the toast on. You want some milk for breakfast, sport?”

“Sure dad, sounds good, dad. I’ll just kind of stay out of the way. I don’t think you need me under your hooves,” Cure says as he takes his seat at the table.

Within about ten minutes the toast is cooked up, the table is plated, drinks are served up, and everypony is ready to dig in. To his delight, Title did a great job and, compared to his human taste buds, the flavor almost explodes in his mouth. From the quiet moans and satisfied smiles on everypony’s face he’s clearly not the only one enjoying the special treat.

“I have to say, mom… this is probably the best tasting french toast I’ve ever had. I know it’s a pretty simple recipe, but you cooked the toast just right too,” Cure exclaims to the mutual agreement from his dam and sire and Title’s beaming smile. He looks at Vines and asks, “Is there room in the garden for raspberries and strawberries, dam? I think with our magic growing trick we may want to see about expanding a bit. Also, how much of the land around the house is actually our property?”

There are neighbors a few hundred feet in either direction. The area is suburban, there’s no denying that, but since it’s a mostly earth pony town each lot is a lot bigger and more spread out than human suburbs would be. Hell, half the areas he drove through had houses so packed in neighbors could just about lean out their windows and hand something to each other.

Off the top of his head he estimates their lot to be about three acres, give or take.

The garden only looks to be about fifty feet… or fifteen meters to a side, so if I’m right we could make the garden nearly ten times as big if my parents want to. That may be more work than we can handle, though. Hoofle? Wait, no… Ponies don’t say that. Manage. More work than we could manage. Damn ponyisms.

Also, what the hell kind of grass is growing out there? Does grass in magical pony land somehow stop growing at just the right height? I’ve never seen a lawnmower in my life, but that lawn looks MANICURED… like some Homes & Gardens level shit or something. Where the hell are the dandelions, crabgrass, thistles, and all the other bullshit he had to deal with before? Ponies got it easy, man.

“We could certainly add on another section, sweetie. It’s a bit of work and we’ll need to get some supplies, but if everypony is willing to help with harvesting we can definitely add a section for some berries and other stuff. It’s a little late in the year to do that right now, though. What do you two think?” Vines asks while looking over to her mates.

“You’re the garden expert here, babe. If you think we should wait then we’ll do that. I don’t think the expense is a problem if we end up saving a lot on groceries and have more food for our growing family, but we do only have another month or so before it starts cooling off. Maybe we should get it ready in the fall so when spring rolls around we can plant and have more to eat next year. What do you think, babe?” Deed asks Title.

“Yeah, you’re probably right,” she says, sighing. She looks over to Cure and adds, “though I’d absolutely love to have fresh berries whenever we want your sire is right, honey. Also, you and your dam will be doing most of the work harvesting, so even if you can grow more keep that in mind. Harvesting is a lot of work, after all.”

“Uhh, actually we can just kind of “ask” the fruit to fall off the vines and stuff. You don’t need to really pick it all, ya know?” Cure asks.

Vines ears almost shoot through the ceiling at this. “WHAT?”

Jumping a little at his dam’s wide-eyed excitement, Cure explains, “Yeah, we should be able to use magic to harvest the fruit just like you were growing it. You remember I told you about the stories about Equestria’s future, right? Well one of the main characters in most of those is an Apple. She and her brother could basically commune with their trees and the apples would just fall off the branches into their waiting baskets. That is probably inaccurate or exaggerated, but there’s no reason I can think of that you couldn’t grab a fruiting vine, hold it over a basket, and basically “magic” the fruit right off.”

Deed and Title are just looking back and forth between the two. Deed is shocked at the revelation, but just quietly mulls that over in his head.

“Oh. My. Celestia. You absolutely must be joking, Cure. I swear if this works I’m going to … I don’t even KNOW. We have got to try this today, sweetie. I’m so excited!” And he can tell she clearly is. Just another “freakin Hasbro, man” moment. Cure can barely contain his laugh while looking at his dam. She’s sitting up with her hooves just alternating between her cheeks and a little clap move you remember seeing in the cartoon a few times. It looks like she is literally vibrating and Cure can tell it’s taking almost all her resolve not to run right out the door at this very moment to try it out.

I wonder if there’s ever been a pony that created a sonic rainboom at ground level. God she’ll level the whole neighborhood if she doesn’t calm her teats down a bit.

“Okay, dam, I know you’re excited, but when you’re doing magic control is key. With the way you’re vibrating I can almost picture the whole neighborhood covered in vines with melons and cucumbers as far as the eye can see. As hilarious as that would be, from a distance at least, I think that may draw just a tiny bit of attention,” he explains with a chuckle and the “calm down” motion.

“Son, I’m not sure if you understand,” Deed calmly explains. “Harvest time… well, it flat out sucks. There’s a reason a lot of towns have a big harvest festival with plenty of booze and partying. It’s because they’re done for the year and ready to thank Celestia they can finally take a break. If you’re saying you can basically wave a hoof and have the fruit or what-have-you just fall off you’re going to have farmers crossing the country to learn from you. No exaggeration there, at all, son.”

Now wide-eyed himself, Cure looks over to Title to confirm Deed’s right. At her insistent nods he can almost feel the pressure building on his withers.

“Oh. Well. Uhh, can’t really say I realized the full significance of this. I mean, I did tell you, “ he says as he turns to Vines, “that you could end up one of the most productive farmers ever, dam. I meant that. I’d be thrilled to work together to figure this out and, once we learn enough, you could grow enough food out there in that garden AND harvest it, to feed this family for the better part of the year, I bet. There’s some plants that this may not work on as well. Like wheat. I never farmed, but I know there’s a step involved called threshing where you have to basically beat the actual edible part out of a shell or something, right?”

“Yep, after you reap it you have to thresh it. When I worked on Auntie Bean’s farm I would help out with that sometimes. There's machines for it, but anytime one breaks down we'd be doing it by hoof. It takes a lot of ponies to harvest a field of wheat for bread and what-have-you and only bigger farms will have machines to speed it up,” Deed explains. “Between that, picking fruits, and pulling root veggies out of the ground you’re talking a loooooott of work,” he emphasizes.

“Well, I don’t think you could just suddenly make the root veggies shoot out of the ground. Probably. Terrakinesis could actually be in the earth pony repertoire, I think, so who knows? I mean, the name “earth pony” certainly implies it, right?”

Deed gets a far-away look as his mouth just kind of hangs open. Title is having a hard time not busting out laughing, both at her mate’s face and just at the overall situation. Vines is still dithering back and forth between finishing her breakfast and running out the door.

Cure, meanwhile, is lost in thought again and finally speaks up to break the silence. “Oh well, just another thing to experiment with. Given that all ponies seem to have this tactile telekinesis, “ he says as he holds a fork in his open hoof, waving it back and forth, “it wouldn’t surprise me one bit if it can be channeled through the ground at a distance. I already know we can affect plants at a short distance, so logic dictates it should be possible… may take a specific mark to achieve though.”

Vines impatience finally wins out. She absolutely devours the remaining bit of food on her plate, chugs the bit of tea she still had left, runs into the kitchen to deposit the plate in the sink, and just about shoots right out the back door towards her garden… all to the amused stares of her son and husband and the cackling laughter of her sister-wife.

“Well, there she goes. I sure hope we’re not about to see the vinepocalypse or something.” He pauses for a moment and casually adds, “At least we won’t starve.”

“Colt, I’ll tell you what, if she covers the land in darkness I’m absolutely blaming you. Just don’t forget that I still love ya, son, and I’ll visit you in the dungeons whenever I have a free moment.”

“Thanks, dad. I’ll look forward to the visits. Bring books, okay?” he asks, to Deed’s “you betcha, son.”

Both males ignore Title who, at this point, is basically rolling on the floor laughing her flanks off. Deed considers stealing her last slice of toast, but given that she’s carrying his foal he opts to, like any good father would, steal a quarter of a banana off of his son’s plate instead.

Meh, whatever. I’m basically full anyhow. I better go check on dam, though. I can still see the sun, so at least everything should be below window-height for now.

“I assume I’ll be a bit, so if I don’t see you before you head to work I hope you have a good day. Love you,” he says as he comes around the table and hugs both his parents. He just kind of glomps over Title for hers while she continues giggling from the floor. “Thanks for basically doing everything at breakfast, mom.”

“You’re welcome sweetie,” she stops her laughing to wrap him in a hug, “it was a very nice treat. Thanks for sharing it with us.”

“Yeah, that was delicious, son. Thanks a bunch!”

Cure gives a quick “you’re welcome” and takes his plate and empty cup to the counter by the sink. He heads out the back door to see if Audrey is out there yelling “FEED ME” already.

To his eternal relief he finds his dam holding up a vine laden with cucumbers over a basket. He approaches slowly, watching his dam work. Like yesterday, she starts glowing a beautiful azure color. It suffuses the vines in her hoof and saturates the cucumbers that look ready to be picked. Nothing seems to happen for several minutes until, with a quiet “plop” noise, a single cucumber falls off the vine. To his amusement, his dam lets out a small, surprised gasp. From there all the others follow until the vine has only a few left that clearly still have some growing to do.

Approaching from in front of his dam, Cure finally calls out to her. “Well, you certainly figured that out pretty quick. How’d it go?”

Beaming with a thousand watt smile, Vines answers, “It just… worked. I just did what you told me to do yesterday, but instead of encouraging them to grow I just kind of told them it was time for them to come off the vine. Once the first one came loose the others just followed like they were leaping to follow the leader. Look, honey!” She looks behind Cure who had heard the back door open behind him. Glancing over his withers he sees his sire and mom approaching.

Quickly grabbing another vine that’s ready to go, Vines lifts it up and partially sets it in the basket so the cucumbers don’t have more than a few centimeters to fall. She repeats the process and soon another pile of cucumbers is filling the basket up.

She looks up to the Property Duo, still smiling from ear to ear. “Cucumbers aren’t that bad to harvest, but just imagine if this vine was full of raspberries or grapes or something like that. A whole vine done in a few seconds instead of ten or twenty minutes! I didn’t even have to check to see if they were ripe and ready to go! I just felt it and asked them to let go! And they did!” Laughing, she scoops up Cure and wraps him in her forelegs while dancing in circles on her back legs. He would call it hysterical laughter, but it’s still a notch or two below that level.

7/10, would LOL again. Air would kick ass right now, though.

Title apparently agreed with his unspoken thought. “You may want to let the colt catch a breath there, Vines. I want my foal to have a big, strong older brother around to stand up for her, after all.”

“Yeah,” Deed adds in, “besides, I need him breathing at least until he can come to work and show me how I can get everything done while just waving my hooves around too, honey.”

“Always there for me ma, pa. Love you too!”

Deed just winks at the now-released colt and smiles.

“I do actually have some theories on how you could use your magic to help at work. It’s not quite as direct of an application as this has been,” he says, waving at the garden and basket of cucumbers, “but I’m thinking that cutie marks can kind of bypass some of the limitations we normally associate with magic. I suspect we can kind of use them as a focus, maybe. Do they have stories about magicians using wands as a focus instead of unicorn horns?”

“Uhh, not exactly, son, but I’ve heard of magical staves used to cast spells,” Deed replies.

“Okay, well what I’m thinking is that if you learn to channel your magic specifically through your mark you may gain some insight into whatever it is you’re working on. So for you, dad, the right thing to say to a potential client may come to mind or maybe you’ll just get that feeling again telling you where the perfect house would be for your customer… or the perfect customer for a house maybe. Guess it depends on if you’re representing the buyer or seller.”

He paused, turning to Title. “I suspect you’ll get a feeling, like something is compelling you to look in specific places for whatever it is you’re searching for. It’s right there on your mark. You find information, so if you use that as a focal point for your magic instead of your hooves I bet you’ll find whatever you’re looking for much more easily. Try it out and let me know how it goes.”

“Sure thing, honey…” Title pauses and looks at the sun, “we do need to get going, though. How about while we’re gone you work on your dam and see if you can’t conjure up a plant that literally grows bits?” she asks and reaches in one of her pouches. She withdraws a coin and holds it out to him saying, “Here, you can use this as a seed if you even need it.”

With a deadpan look, Cure ignores the guffawing from his father and the giggling from the mare on the ground and attempts to snatch the bit out of Title’s hoof. Sadly, his short legs just can’t get there before she pulls it back and sticks her tongue out at him.

“Yeah, son. There’s a field of grass right over there. How bout you just go look in its general direction and turn it into a gold mine or something. I’m sure you’ll figure it out if you put your mind to it.” Deed laughs as he picks up his son and gives him a big hug and nuzzle. Title leans over and gives him a quick nuzzle and peck on the cheek, then does the same with Vines before Deed sets his son back down.

“We’ll see you later. Try not to show up on any front pages anywhere while we’re working, okay?” Title calls over her shoulder as they head off to work.

Cure walks over to his dam, now turned, laying on her side. He lays kind of crooked across her with his belly across her shoulder and puts his head down against the bottom of her mane. After a few minutes of snuggling he finally breaks the silence. “So what do you want to work on today, dam? I don’t think there’s much to do with the garden and, unless I’m mistaken, we should wait a few more days before we harvest everything you want to take to the market.”

“Oh I don’t know, son. How about we make a trip into town? We need to get some bread and a few other groceries. Breakfast was nice, by the way. Maybe we can find something for you to read at the bookstore or the library. We’ll also get some supplies to work on expanding the garden this weekend when your mom and sire are available to help.” She pauses in thought for a moment, “Do you really think our magic can help till the land and get it ready to plant crops? I’m not doubting you, son, it’s just that it seems more like unicorn magic.”

“I’m not sure about that, dam. We could try it before we go. You have a lot more power than I do, though. You didn’t wear yourself out on those vines, did you?”

“Nope! I’m ready to give it a try,” she says while standing. Cure slides off her as she gets up and they head over to a grassy part of the yard.

Unfortunately, it was not going to be that easy. Vines focuses on her magic and pours it into the ground, but aside from feeling the grass and other plants in the soil she doesn’t seem to be able to shift earth just by itself. She can certainly tell what the earth needs to help plants grow, but direct manipulation of rocks and dirt just isn’t in the cards.

“Well that stinks. I guess we can’t win 'em all, can we?” he asks while looking up at her.

“Nope, guess not. Oh well, worth a try.” She pauses a moment to look around. “Well I have that small tiller in the shed and the garden plow, so at least we don’t need anything but some fertilizer and hard work to get it ready. Let’s go clean up the kitchen and wash the dishes,” she said as she tossed the basket onto her withers and made for the door.

I thought Pinkie’s family farmed rocks. Will farm rocks. Whatever. How do they do it? Maybe we need some training or a different mindset or something. Or it really could just be that they didn’t use magic actively at all and did everything manually. Wait, is “manual” another human word without a pony equivalent? Fuck that’s getting annoying. I’m not letting this one slide.

“Hey dam,” he called out, “I’m getting my human and pony terms mixed up a little bit on occasion. Can you do me a favor and tell me what the opposite of “automatic” would be?”

Confused for a moment, Vines tilts her head and asks, “You mean… by hoof?”

“Yeah, what’s another word for that?”

“Manually?”

“Huh. Well I’ll be. I wasn’t sure if that was an actual pony word.”

“Oh, humans spoke a totally different language? That’s strange, you kept using big words you shouldn’t know yet, so I assumed humans and ponies both spoke ponish… or whatever humans would have called it. Humish?”

“Well humans call this language English because the language originated in a country called England and, for the most part, it’s the same exact language in both places. Same words, but idioms are a little different since, obviously, humans wouldn’t say anything about hooves since they don’t have them. Humans have a bunch of different languages. Hundreds, even.”

“Oh. What’s that have to do with doing something manually?”

“Long story short, there were languages that came before English that they kind of took ideas from when the language was developing. That means that words as they are used today may have slightly different meanings than what they used to mean, or a word could actually be a combination of multiple words that just got used so many times together that people basically just made it one word.” He continues as they walk towards the house, “I don’t have all of that stuff memorized, but whenever I come across a word with parts that aren’t something I’d expect to hear in pony society I kind of have to stop and think “wait, is this word coming from my memories or is this an okay word to use in Equestria?””

He leans his head against her side as they walk, “Manual is a good example. The word doesn’t really have anything to do with man, per se, but it does mean “to do something by hand”. Obviously it means “to do something by hoof” here, but I wasn’t sure. We would say a project takes a number of hours of “manpower” too. It basically means how many people it will take to get a job done. Similarly, we have an actual measure of power with a defined quantity called “horsepower”. Machines would have ratings like “a hundred horsepower” which means they can output enough force that it would take a hundred horses to do the same work, roughly. I don’t know exactly how accurate those numbers were, but that’s how they started at least.” He pauses as they make their way inside. “I just have to be conscious of what I say because with enough mistakes someone is going to probably start thinking I’m nuts or something. Or, who knows, maybe there’s myths about humans out there and saying the wrong thing could get me in trouble. Like when I was searching for another word for “humane” the other day. Obviously you can’t just substitute “pony” in for “human” there. Ponane? Pony-ane?”

“Ahh… okay, I understand. I don’t think you have to worry about it too much, honey. If you slip up just play it off as something you heard from your great grandpa or something like that. Nopony will actually follow up to check and even if they did, well… grandpa must have slipped up when he said that and little Cure just didn’t know better. He is just a young colt, you know? And he always listens to his elders!” she said with a sly smile.

“Hah! My dam is so devious! More like Sneaking Vines, if ya ask me.” A thought occurs to him, so he asks, “Hey so… none of you really asked anything about humans at all. I figured you probably were just trying to avoid bringing up memories, but really… I’m okay. I told Title she can ask me anything. I meant that. If you’re curious don’t hesitate to ask me, okay?”

“Well I am curious what a human looks like. There’s obviously some pretty significant differences. You said the closest was a minotaur or diamond dog the other day.”

“Yeah, neither is particularly close, though. Humans are bipedal. Diamond dogs and minotaurs have digitigrade legs, so they have basically two joints above their ankles just like our hind legs. Humans legs are shaped like our forelegs, though. Their ankles are also like our forelegs, but instead of hooves they have feet. Human feet are a lot longer than hooves since they have to balance all their weight on them. The bigger feet provide more stability than a minotaur would have, so humans are much faster at turning or moving side-to-side than they would be. Possibly. Magic changes the game completely. Either way, humans are way, way weaker than either of those. Humans are physically weak and have absolutely no magic. The danger comes from their speed and their ability to use tools. Like minotaurs they have arms and hands and their dexterity with them puts anything on this planet to shame, as far as I know.” He pauses to think for a moment.

Well Rarity could sew with her telekinesis, I guess.

“A really, really skilled unicorn may be able to manipulate objects as well as a typical human can. Their faces are flat like an ape’s is… even flatter, really. No horns or anything like that either, just hair on top of their head… no fur anywhere, I forgot to mention, so they wear clothes literally all the time to keep warm and so their genitals and other sensitive parts are protected. Their teeth aren’t as big as a diamond dog, but they do have sharp ones for meat. Really, biting would be a last-ditch thing for humans. The average healthy adult male human probably weighs two-thirds what you do and women are typically about half to three-quarters a man’s weight. Again, way, way less muscle. Males are much larger and stronger than females. It’s kind of weird for me to be in a largely matriartical society honestly… especially one where most ponies will lack any of the predatory instincts I know I still have.”

“Uhh… what do you mean, honey?” she asks, now a little worried.

“Oh I don’t mean humans are overly violent or anything,” he waved away the worry. “They just respond to aggression with aggression. Human males, especially. We grow up fighting and wrestling and stuff like that. Here males are more protected because there’s less of us per female, but for humans it’s almost an even split. Usually in adults there’s about 51 females to 49 males, but that’s more because human males do stupid stuff, often to impress females or to prove their masculinity. They occasionally get themselves killed as a result. More competition for females, you see. It’s weird to think that I’ll be the one having to fend off aggressive females at some point.”

He paused, shaking his head. “Anyhow, Cyndi’s oldest, Josh, was a perfect example of how dumb guys could be. He was at a party, trying to be a big strong tough guy, drinking and smoking with all his friends. Then he left so drunk and high off his rear he could barely walk straight. Wanted to go see his girlfriend and get some p… have sex. He didn’t make it more than a couple miles before he had an accident and, by the time they found him, it was just too late. He probably laid there three or four hours before someone even found the accident and he was already long gone. We got the call on a Saturday morning while I was making the girls breakfast. Guys are dumb… especially when there’s women involved.”

“Well promise me you’ll never do something like that, sweetie. I don’t know how you and your wife got through all that tragedy, but I just couldn’t survive without my little colt around.”

“Oh trust me, I know. I grew out of all that. The whole “risk versus reward” part of the brain isn’t really that well developed in humans until their mid twenties. I’m sure I’ll still have some colt-like behaviors just because of body chemistry and natural instinct, but I don’t think you have to worry about me being dumb, especially to impress some mare.”

Vines nodded and, as she finished cleaning up the kitchen, hung up the towel and started heading towards the stairs. “Go get ready to head into town, honey. Use the bathroom if you think you’ll need to. I plan on wearing my saddlebags, so I don’t think you’ll need to bring anything. I’m going to go up and get ready and we’ll leave in just a few minutes.

Nodding his head, he went upstairs to get ready.

Author's Note

Edit much later:
For anyone noticing a change in the timeframes here, I do apologize. Initially these early chapters did not have a date stamp and the dumb author didn't sit down and map out everything before he started writing. Idiot! Anyhow, as a result, Title's pregnancy dates were all wrong by several weeks. She should be at least in her 19th week. I'm not going to say anything else for now, but I have edited the chapter to reflect. Originally I had like week 11 or 12 or whatever.

Sorry for that. I am hopeful that mistakes like this will not happen again, but there's a very good chance that somewhere in the next 13-15 chapters there are other small slips like that. The whole date stamp thing didn't actually start until about 23 when I finally got off my lazy ass and mapped stuff out.

Chapter 8: Town

Wednesday, September 3rd, 908 AB

Once again Cure was thankful that he had several years of pony life before his human memories had come in. Sure, there would have been some things that it would have been convenient to remember beforehand, but the awkwardness and uncomfortable situations that would arise from an adult man needing to be potty trained all over again were not missed at all.

Pony toilets are almost exactly like squat toilets that he had seen images of online. The only real difference is that there was actually a bar to drape your tail over to ensure that it was well clear of anything. That and the presence of a bidet to tidy up the rear a bit, though it generally wasn’t necessary.

I can think of maybe half a dozen times in my entire human life when I took a shit and the toilet paper was completely clean on the first wipe. Every time it happened it shocked me so bad I actually made a mental note about it and was paranoid I missed a cling-on the rest of the day. Kudos to whatever entity engineered the pony butthole. I will never have to deal with another fissure again, thank the heavens. Why couldn’t you be there for humanity, butthole engineer guy? Bless my dreams with a face and I’ll carve a fucking altar to you and give thanks at every poo.

Contrary to what a human may expect, pony bodies were actually plenty flexible enough for Cure to reach the back door with some toilet paper, so once he was done with his business he gave the whole area a good spritzing to be safe, dried off his fur, washed his hooves, and was good to go.

Since she is a female, it was mandated across all multiverses that Vines would have to take longer to get ready. This was inevitable, and Cure accepted it as yet another normal part of everyday life.

Don’t quite get why, though… I don’t think ponies wear makeup or anything, do they? It’s not like she’s trying to find just the right outfit. I was up there droppin a deuce for a few minutes and I’m ready to go. Maybe my dam’s not getting enough fiber and is struggling up there. I don’t think she’d find it so humorous if I yelled “magic can help with that too” up the stairs. “Really pump your magic into your sphincter, dam! Show number two who’s boss!”

Snickering to himself on one of the cushions, he feels his ears auto-swivel to the steps as his dam finally comes down the stairs. She looks at him a little confused and asks what he was laughing at.

“Oh nothing much. Human males stereotype females and joke about how much longer it takes them to get ready,” he explained while heading for the front door. “It’s actually fairly accurate, in my experience. Women use powders and liquids… wait, do ponies have makeup?” he asks.

“Some ponies will use powders to lighten or darken their fur on their cheeks or to lengthen their eyelashes. It depends on their coat color if they can pull it off, if that’s what you mean.”

“That makes sense. Humans vary in color too, but the variety is nothing like fur color on ponies. No greens, blues, or most of the more vibrant, bright colors. So, there’s no fur on humans, remember?” at her nod he continues, “with just skin showing it’s a lot easier to spot blemishes or what-have-you. Remember I said men compete with each other for the attention of females? Well, women obviously compete for men’s attention too, though it varies a lot from woman to woman,” he continues as they head out the door.

“Just a second, honey, I’m going to get the little cart since we’re getting groceries. I don’t think my saddlebags will be big enough.” Vines says as she puts her head and forelegs through the small pull-cart harness. It’s basically a utility cart slightly wider and taller than a classic red wagon, but with two longer arms going up like a rickshaw and a very lightweight harness a pony can slide their neck and forelegs into so it doesn’t bash them when they stop. The arms can move up and down a little bit so it works great for adult ponies and foals about his size once the harness is tightened down… a lot.

They begin the trot to town and he continues his explanation, “So anyhow, if a woman has anything wrong with her skin or just thinks she wants to smooth out lines or wrinkles or whatever they have a whole huge industry of powders, temporary paints, etcetera, that they can apply to their faces to either minimize or accentuate features. Men don’t do that at all except for some special situations, like they’re going on stage for example. Also, guys typically don’t put as much thought into what they’re wearing. The stereotype for men is they just throw on whatever is in their closet that doesn’t need washed at the moment, whereas the stereotype for women is that they try on twenty different outfits before they find the one they like, then they still have to do their hair and makeup. So men joke about women taking two hours to get ready but the guy can be ready to head out the door in under ten minutes. I can honestly say I don’t miss the whole clothes thing one bit. I can only imagine how much easier not needing clothes makes packing for trips.”

He smiles at her before continuing, “I was just chuckling to myself thinking “How is it that even in a world with no makeup and no clothes the guy’s ready to head out the door and there’s still no woman in sight?”” he explained. “Really, though, it was more of just an idle thought that made me laugh, I know there’s probably things mares do to get ready that I’m happy not to be privy to until necessary.”

Smiling down at him, she shrugged off the thought and continued walking, “I was just cleaning up the room a bit before we left. It only took me a minute to get the saddlebags picked out, get some bits, and be ready to go. The bed was kind of a mess, though,” at Cure’s choked cough and shout of “too much info, dam!” she laughed and shouted, “from sleeping in it! Your sire throws half the covers on the floor every night, I swear!” She ignores his accusing “uh huh, sure” and continues, “anyhow, I just took a few minutes cleaning up the room and straightening out the bed, that’s why I wasn’t down right away. So be quiet, little colt,” she doesn’t even break stride to give him a poke in his side as he continues laughing.

As they pass their neighbors they call back greetings and wave to everypony, all the while continuing on their way. It’s only a couple blocks down before they come across Cure’s friend Heavy Lift and his mom, Spring Showers. She’s one of the only pegasus that Cure can think of married to an earth pony. There’s probably only about forty or fifty pegasus in the whole town. Of course she initially moved here for a job with the weather team. There’s not a whole lot of other reasons a pegasus would live in the suburbs he can think of.

Of course, the instant Heavy gets a look at Cure he spots the new addition.

“OH MY CELESTIA! YOU GOT YOUR CUTIE MARK! WHAT’S IT MEAN? HOW’D YOU GET IT? IS THAT A SNAKE? WHERE HAVE YOU BEEN? WHY DIDN’T YOU TELL ME?” and about a dozen other mark-related questions explode out of the excited, bouncing colt. As expected, this draws a small crowd of all the neighborhood children whose ears and heads all lock on like twin radar dishes when the words “cutie mark” are bellowed across the block.

Totally herd animals, I swear. This kid’s caused the tiniest, most adorable stampede ever seen. There goes another video that would get about four hundred million hits in its first hour on YouTube.

Playing his part and sticking to the story they planned out the previous day, Cure puts on his “excited young colt” facade and explains that he got his cutie mark when he bandaged and treated his bruised leg, omitting anything along the lines of “totally fixed it with magic, bro”. “Yep! It healed up real fast afterwards. It’s good as new already!” he exclaims, waving the clearly-uninjured appendage before them. “I’ve just been staying at home so I could help my dam in the garden. She sold almost everything we grew at the market last weekend, so there was a LOT of work to do! We’re headed into town to see if I can get some first aid books at the library!” Busting out the ultimate finisher, he leans over and wraps his forehooves around his dam and declares to the world, “Dam says I can grow up and be a great doctor someday so I wanted to learn everything there is about helping ponies get healthy and fixing ‘em up when they get hurt!”

The collective “aww” from the mares and stallions that were attracted from the crowd makes Vines’ ears shade red. Deciding to turn the tables she declares with confidence, “That’s right! My little Wavey-poo is going to learn everything he can about medicine.” Wrapping her forelegs around him, she hoists him up the ground and squishes him against her chest. “Getting a cutie mark when he’s barely eight years old! Who’s my little prodigy? You. Bet. You. Are!” she says, emphasizing each word with a squeeze as she nuzzles the top of his head. “Now we need to get to the library, honey. Maybe if you’re good you can play with your little friends when we drop your books off at home.”

“Okay, dam!” he says, looking up at her as she lowers him to the ground. Turning to the group of foals he explains, “Well I’ll see you all later! I need to see if I can find me a good book to read so I can get started learning! My sire says medical ponies need to be super smart, so I got a lot of work to do!” With that he says goodbye while waving to the crowd, then turns to make his escape.

As they get some distance from the crowd he sees his dam smirking down at him. “Yeah, yeah, you win this round. Honestly, though, I did feel like I kinda wanted to go play with them,” he admits. “That’s actually kind of a relief, in a way. I was so afraid these memories would change me and make it hard for me to be around colts and fillies my age without feeling weird. I mean, I had to force the excitement a little, but I am looking forward to playing with my friends. You only get to be a child once, so … ya know… if some being out there,” he waved up at the sky as he continued walking, “decided to give me a second shot… Well, I didn't want to seem ungrateful by acting like this was just an extension of that other life.”

He didn’t get another step before he was scooped up and held against his dam’s chest again. Drowning him in nuzzles and kisses and with palpable relief in her voice she says, “Oh honey, I can’t tell you how glad I am to hear that. I knew you were still my baby either way, but I was so worried you wouldn’t get to have a foalhood because of all this. Especially when your mark showed up the other day. Honestly, this feels like you’re getting the best of both worlds. You get to keep all that knowledge and the life experiences, both good and bad, and you get a whole new fresh start,” she explains as she sets him back down. “I wish those first few days were easier for you, but we’ll always be there to help you get through the hard times.”

“I know, dam. Trust me, I know. You’ve all shown that plenty, and it’s been great to get all that love and attention. Humans aren’t nearly as affectionate normally… at least towards boys. Part of the “gotta toughen em up” mentality, I suppose. Besides, as hard as some of those memories are, I still wouldn’t want to lose any of them. I don’t remember how the saying goes, but there was one about how we learn way more from our failures than our successes. Same goes for the things that hurt, I reckon. Pain, as much as it stinks, is a very effective teacher.”

He releases his hug around her neck, signaling that it’s time to let him down and get moving again. Vines complies, though she doesn’t really want to let go just yet.

“That’s true, I suppose,” she responds thoughtfully. Honestly, Vines isn’t sure what the right response is to something like that. It’s true, but it still doesn’t bring a lot of comfort to hear those words in her colt’s voice, even though she can agree that he seems to be doing pretty well overall. It’ll just take time. He’ll get through it and we’ll be there to support him.

“So I’ll admit I’m eager to get some reading material, so I may be slightly biased here, but from a practical standpoint I think starting at the library may be the best choice. I’m not sure what the grocery list looks like, but if anything needs to be refrigerated I think that should be our last stop before we head home. Sound good?” he asks as he looks up at his dam.

With her agreeing nod they make their way to the library. Vines moves over by a little corral and unlatches herself from the cart as he heads in. It’s not a tree house, to Cure’s slight disappointment, and has only a few dozen shelves barely as tall as his dam. Really, it reminds him of the school library he had at his elementary, though the demographics targeted clearly include adults. Rather than piddle around like a typical child probably would, he goes straight up to the counter to ask for help.

I remember the running gag in the show and in a lot of the fanon was that Twilight had Spike reorganize the books about every other minute. Granted there’s probably not a regular pegasus-induced shelf clearing going on here, but fuck if have any clue where to grab anatomy and medical textbooks. I’m not optimistic that I'll find quality books without going into a major city.

“Hello, miss?” he addresses the library mare behind the desk. Putting his forehooves on the counter to stand as tall as he can on his rear legs, he barely clears the desk enough for the mare to see his ears, mane, and eyes just over the top. “Hi, down here,” he calls out with a smile. Clearly she already sees him, but he hears his dam snickering behind him. Smiling up to her he explains what he's looking for. "Good morning. I was hoping to get some assistance finding some introductory level anatomy, physiology, or other basic medical textbooks that may be available. I'd love to get a hold of something on pediatrics and another about orthopedics too if you have them."

Looking down at the colt, then back up to the mare behind him, the librarian is clearly a little confused. "Uhh… what?"

Vines smiles broadly at the library mare, then points one hoof at her son, turns slightly, and points back at her flank.

"Ohh! Well, aren't you just absolutely precious!" She then turns and calls over her withers, "Binder, we have ourselves a future doctor over here! Can you show him to the medical books, please? Oh and make it stat!" She smiles and winks back to Vines.

A deep orange unicorn emerges from the office behind the counter. He takes a look at Cure and obviously barely holds back an eye roll. "Sure. Right this way," he says, tilting his head to the side.

They follow Binder to the far corner with a small sign reading Health is hanging. "Here ya go, big guy," he says as he pulls a… picture book? off the shelf. Taking the book from the unicorn, Cure looks at the cover.

"Your Body and You: A Foal's Introduction to Good Health. Huh…" Looking up to the stallion, Cure plasters a smile on his face. "This will help so much! Thank you Mister Binder!"

"Sure thing, young colt," he says as he pats Cure on the head. "You study real hard and some day you'll be a great nurse. Good luck!" he says as he heads back to the office.

Once he’s back in the office and out of earshot Cure can’t help himself. "Prick."

"Cure!"

"What? He kinda was."

"Still…" Vines shuffles back and forth on her hooves, clearly a bit uncomfortable.

"Anyhow, I'm genuinely impressed they have anything. Also, this may not be a terrible book to read. Sometimes you miss the common sense stuff by looking right past it. How long did you want to spend here, dam? Is there anything you were wanting to get too?” he asks.

“Actually I was going to look at the history books to see if they match up with your stories. Who knows, maybe it’ll be useful to know how closely your memories align with everything.”

“That’s actually a great idea. I’m sure mom will be interested to know if everything matches up, too. I’m going to skim through this book real fast and then pick out a few more detailed ones for us to take home. Give me fifteen minutes, maybe?”

“Sounds good, honey. Take your time,” she says as she heads to another section of the library.

Digging through the shelf Cure actually finds a good selection of intro level books. It makes sense, he supposes. The books aren’t exactly college level pre-med books, but they’ll still help fill in a bunch of blanks in his knowledge.

He finds a small reading section with tables, cushions, and book stands nearby. After a few trips back and forth he accumulates a decent stack on basically every subject he was looking for including some on pregnancy, birth, and early foalhood development.

I doubt Title needs these but I should give them a look-through so I can be more help as her pregnancy progresses. Huh, this picture book is actually pretty good. It’s unbelievable how much better basic health information is in a society that didn’t have two thousand years of society and religion suppressing everything they consider shameful or that doesn’t align with their agenda.

Actually, it’s really not unbelievable at all. This is exactly the way it should be. I swear I could write a couple books alone on the impact of having an immortal, immensely powerful benevolent dictator sitting on the throne.

After reading through the small picture book he digs through the anatomy and physiology books looking for diagrams. Though not as high of quality as what he would find in his past life, he is still satisfied that the books are at least worth the time to read through. On a whim he also grabs a book on nutrition and dietary science.

After about half an hour of poking through various books and setting some aside to return to the shelves, Vines finds her son sitting beside a small stack of “keepers” with another, much larger stack that can go back on the shelf.

“Find everything you need, honey?” she asks.

Looking up from the page he’s on he smiles at his dam and replies, “Yep. I actually did a lot better than I had dared to hope. I figured I would have to go to a metro library to find anything, but they have a pretty decent selection of intro level textbooks and more general-knowledge books here than you’d think, given how small the library is. Hey I didn’t think about it before, do you think they’d have some magic primers here? I mean, we live in an earth pony town and I’d expect to find those more in areas with mostly unicorns.”

“I don’t know. I’ve never looked for it before. I’m sure we can get Mister Binder to help us again, though. He seemed eager enough,” she teases with a smile.

“Actually, that’s not a bad idea. Do you mind helping me with this stack? I assume I should just leave the others here so they can put them back in the right spot, right?” At her nod Cure grabs a couple books and tosses them onto his back. His dam grabs the rest and does the same as they make their way back to the desk. Spotting his target he calls out, “Hey Mister Binder, do you have a moment, please?”

“What? Oh, sure thing, colt. Wow, got yourself quite the haul there, don’t you? That’s fantastic! You must be a real genius for your age if you can follow those, huh? Did you need help with something else?”

“Yessir! Being an earth pony and all I know I won’t be able to cast all the fancy spells I bet you know, but I’m super curious about magic and what all unicorns like yourself can accomplish. Do you have any books for young unicorns or anything about other types of magic?”

“You know what, you may be the first non-unicorn I’ve ever had ask me about magic. There’s actually some cool things you could do with it that don’t need a horn at all. That’s good thinking, colt. Let me show you a few books that may interest you. Come right this way, I’ve got a few over here that I donated when I was done with them. Even though almost everypony around is an earth pony we still have some of the basic unicorn primers too. Every library in Equestria is required to have some of the basics so inquisitive youngsters like yourself have somewhere to learn.”

Binder leads them to a different section and points out a few shelves about different topics. “Now a lot of this is for young unicorns, like I said, but there’s some basic guides here that an earth pony could actually use, too. Here’s Power of the Tribes: The Gift of Magic that’s a really good read about the different abilities we all have, even if it’s a bit vague and focuses on the history pre-unification. Rune Theory: The Language of the Divine is probably a bit over your head, but the first few chapters are very basic and show you some neat enchantments you can use to do everyday things. No horn needed there.” Binder was clearly excited to have a young earth pony asking about magic. He was talking much more animatedly and Cure swears he is witnessing the start of TwiLecture mode being engaged. He isn’t even faking the smile at this point, so amused and genuinely interested in what the unicorn has to show him.

“Finally, and most important if you ask me, and ma’am,” he pauses looking with utmost seriousness, “I can’t in good conscious recommend any of these books until the young colt reads this one cover to cover,” pausing to pull a book showing a charred-looking unicorn, he presents it to Cure and Vines before continuing, “Know Before You Cast: The Official Magical Safety Guide from Celestia’s School for Gifted Unicorns. The author was a big jerk, but I’m sure a few of my classmates would have blown themselves up or turned each other into who-knows-what if he didn’t pound this book into our faces that first semester,” he finishes with a serious look. “Always remember, son, magic is a gift, not a toy. I don’t want to have your dam rushing you to the hospital because you tried something you weren’t sure about, understand?”

Cure nodded with all the seriousness that the topic warranted. “I understand, sir. I’d be happy to start with that if I can get it and the other books I picked out. I’ll probably come back in a week or two for that Rune book too, but I think I have enough to keep me busy for a while before I get into that. Thank you for taking the time to show me all this, Mister Binder!”

Appreciative of his advice, Vines joins in as well. “Yes, thank you for all your help, Mister Binder. I think we’re ready to check out, right, Cure?” she asked.

“You bet, dam.”

Cure already had a library card, so the checkout process was done in no time. He had the books for four weeks, which should give him enough time even if he casually read through them for a few hours each day. He is pretty sure school wouldn't starting back up until after the harvest in a few weeks, so he would have less free time at that point.

Ugh, school was boring the first time through. Now I get to start all over again, but this time I have to pretend to pay enough attention to get by. I think the only thing I’ll learn is history, but I don’t want to completely socially disconnect from my friends either. Maybe I can just get by for a few years then test out or something while maintaining the social contacts. Are these friends even going to be a part of my life when I’m an adult? Probably not, I guess. Most ponies don’t go too far from home, but if I’m going to learn medicine and healing I won’t be able to do it all in a book. I’ll have to head to a major city and I’ll lose touch with my current friends either way. That’s a depressing thought.

Vines loads their books into the cart and hooks herself back up. Turning to Cure she asks, “Well, honey, do you want to head to a bookstore or did you find everything you wanted?” Before he can answer she looks over her son and notices his ears drooping. “What’s wrong, honey? It seems like you found everything you needed in there.” She puts a hoof on his withers and rubs at his back while asking, “Did you see something that reminded you of something upsetting?”

“No, not really,” he starts, “I was just thinking about what the next few years are going to look like for me. School is starting up and I just had this thought, “Ugh, I’m going to have to go through school again,” you know? It’s like… I already have,” he pauses to make sure nopony is in earshot, “like twenty years of education and now I’m basically starting all over. The thing is, what could they possibly actually teach me, ya know?” At her nod he continues, “History, obviously, since I don’t know that very much, but I can learn that from reading a few books on my own and, despite the whole “you need to know this when you’re an adult” thing, it was my experience that No, you don’t need it very much at all.” He stops to look up at his dam and asks, “How much do you really use history in your life? How much of those classes do you even retain when you’re an adult busy doing adult things, hmm? Be honest now,” he points accusingly at her.

“Well… my first inclination is to say you do need to learn that, but… I can’t say you’re totally wrong. I remember the basics, like you said. I have a general outline of ancient history, pre-unification and the wendigos, the Age of Chaos, and the princess’ defeat of Discord.”

She almost falls over when he mutters, “Yeah, he’ll break free eventually too.”

“WHAT?” she quiet-shouts as she turns full-body to face him, mindful enough not to whack anypony wandering by with the cart.

“Yeah, it’s not an issue for another hundred years or so, but he’s quickly defeated again if, you know, everything happens according to the story. Don’t worry, he’s only free for a few hours and just acts more like a nuisance than anything,” he says as he casually waves off the re-emergence of, basically, pony Satan.

Holy shit, he thinks, pony manes really do go all short-circuit when they freak out. I’m kind of glad dam doesn’t have a horn or she’d be shooting sparks right now.

After a few calming breaths Vines finally gets herself back under control. She leans down close to his ear and gives it an not-so-gentle nip while growl-whispering, “Don’t do that to me! You can’t just say stuff like that, Cure. You’ll give somepony a heart attack if you just casually say stuff like, “oh yeah, the world almost ends next week, by the way, but it’ll be fine and stuff, pass the carrots” without at least a little forewarning and maybe some context, okay?”

“I don’t sound like that,” he pouts as he rubs at his eartip. “If something legitimately bad was going to happen I’d give you a warning before just spouting off about it. We’re in a time of peace right now, though. Just so you know, after you-know-who returns and she’s cleansed and rejoins her sister there’s about ten years where a lot of villains emerge or re-emerge and are subsequently defeated.” He looks around to make sure nopony is paying attention again.

He leans up to her and whispers in her ear, “I don’t know all of them, but some highlights include Lord Tirek, the changeling queen Chrysalis, the umbrum, King Sombra, and I think a few others. Again, they all get defeated and whatnot, typically the same day they pop their head out of a hole, so don’t worry about it. I’m hopeful at some point when I’m an adult that I can do something about the changelings. They’re honestly just unlucky and misunderstood, not evil. Their culture is also foreign, so again… misunderstood. I don’t even think their queen is actually evil, just desperate and backed into a corner while her subjects are starving, which would put anyone on the warpath, even a princess.” He gets back down on his hooves as they continue walking. “I mean, really, what kind of ruler would just let their subjects starve? One that wants to be deposed, that’s who. Anyhow, you kinda got sidetracked. How much do you typically use your knowledge about history, dam? I’m thinking “almost never” right?”

Clearly still a little shaken, she shoots an annoyed look at her son before answering, “As I was saying before you nearly killed me, I have a general outline of world history and I know the major events in our country’s history, mostly, but I don’t remember all of the specifics like dates and stuff. For some reason I almost feel guilty agreeing with you, but… I don’t use that knowledge much at all,” she admits, ears drooping like she got caught stealing.

“Called it! Anyhow, I was feeling kind of bummed out because I was thinking, “Hey, I know everything the school could teach me but history and I can learn that on my own. I don’t want to leave my friends behind, but I also don’t want to sit in a classroom wasting six hours a day either. I need friends, but even if I stay friends with them now it’s not like I’m always going to live in Golden Hills because I’ll eventually HAVE to go to school somewhere like Canterlot or, at least, Baltimare or Fillydelphia to become an actual doctor and I’ll be leaving my friends at that point no matter what.”” He pauses, ears drooping further while he walks. “Then I thought about the fact that I’ll also have to go away from you and my mom and sire and any siblings you decide to have. I won’t be able to be there and be the big brother I want to be. I didn’t get to be a big brother before and my older brother was kind of crappy when I was little. I stuck up for him more than he ever did for me. Younger siblings are supposed to look up to their big brother to stick up for ‘em and look out for them. Jimmy had “only child syndrome” and would take away anything I had if mom and dad weren’t watching.”

With a deep sigh Cure continued, “I just had that thought that I didn’t want to have to go away, even if it’s just for a few years, but it probably won’t be. There’s just not enough ponies in this town and if I can do what I think I can do eventually it would be kind of a waste to spend my whole life treating minor cuts and bruises when I could really be saving lives. Or, better yet, developing treatments and cures for stuff that save more lives than I could ever hope to touch myself.” He pauses in thought for a moment, then asks, “Do ponies have penicillin?”

“The antibiotic? Yes, why?”

“Well humans didn’t have it until a scientist kind of accidentally stumbled upon it a little under a century ago. Just that one discovery saves millions of lives each year. I know a great doctor can make all the difference to someone that needs them, but nopony can save tens of thousands of lives every year by themselves. That’s where somepony can really make a big difference on a global scale… medical research and development. You can’t do that in a small town, you need to be at a major hospital or university.”

Vines couldn’t really fault his logic, so she did the best she could to comfort him. Walking with her side touching him she tried to assuage his concerns. “Honey, even if you ended up moving all the way to Canterlot, that's still only a half-day train ride away. You could come home and spend the weekend with us whenever you wanted to. Besides, who knows what the future may hold? Maybe you’ll be a super successful doctor for the princess herself when you’re not doing your research. Then you can buy a big, fancy house for your poor old parents. It could have a nice big garden for your dam and a bunch of bedrooms for all your little brothers and sisters and your sire and mom will make a mint selling fancy houses in the capital. There’s no reason we can’t stay close even when you’re older, honey.”

“Huh… yeah, I guess you’re right. Thanks, dam. I just don’t want to lose you all. I’ve just lost so much and I know I sound clingy and needy, but I… I just don’t know if I could keep going without you and mom and dad nearby.”

Sighing again he continued, “So I feel like I need to really start planning. I think if I break things down into smaller increments I’ll do better because when I sit back and think of all the things at once it’s just overwhelming. Cut a problem into pieces and tackle them one at a time, that’s how you complete a big project. Have an architect draw up a floor plan, find the ideal plot, clear the land, have the foundation poured, put up the frame, have the tradesponies do their parts, put the finishing touches on, and then furnish it. You don’t build a house all in one step and you don’t try to tackle all of life’s problems in one either,” he nods resolutely.

“Well be sure to include all of us, sweetie. I know you can figure it out, but there’s going to be some things you just don’t have the life experience for here that you’ll overlook, okay?”

“Sure thing, dam.”

A few quiet moments later they arrive at the grocery store. Pony grocery stores are, predictably, quite a bit different from human ones. There actually is a parking lot, sort of, but it’s for the carts and wagons that ponies have brought with them to carry their groceries home. Cure is convinced that ponies are subconsciously channeling their TK through their backs too because, steady as it is, the withers and back move too much for shit not to be falling off of them. None of the ponies coming or are going that have stuff on their back are dropping anything at all.

Just for yucks we did the whole ‘balance a book on your head’ thing when I was little. That takes some work to get good at. I’ll just toss another log on the research pile, I guess. I never even ran any experiments on using TK through my hooves and now I’m starting to wonder if it can be applied anywhere with skin… or, I suppose not even skin contact since hooves are basically bone. I need to test the strength of it too. If each hoof has the grip strength of a hand I could totally be Spider Pone. Damnit, now I’ll have that stupid theme song running through my head all day. It’s a shame that the Mare-Do-Well episode is ninety years away, we could have a MLP/DC/Marvel crossover going. I’ll just pop that in the reminders tab of my Google Calendar.

Cure observes that the actual process of buying groceries is basically the same, overall. There’s still shopping carts, but they’re totally different. First, they’re much lower to the ground. They’re nowhere near as deep either. Finally, there’s almost like a steering wheel at the back that turns the front wheels. Ponies put a hoof on the wheel which they can then twist left or right, turning the front wheels. It has a back to it, so the hoof basically locks in, allowing it to stop when the pony does or be pulled backwards. Since it’s just barely off the floor they can also put some weight on it without popping a wheelie. Because ponies are just BS compared to humans when it comes to strength, they can easily manage a fully loaded cart with just that one hoof.

This may legitimately be the most complex, well engineered, purely mechanical thing I’ve ever seen in this life so far.

Selection is approximately what he’d expect, though the packaging is almost entirely paper products, and nowhere near as bright and colorful.

I guess they haven’t realized how much pull kids have on their parents' pocketbooks. Not looking forward to that revelation. Kind of weird not feeling like I’m being bombarded by advertisements from every angle.

The lack of plastics isn’t surprising, but the integration of magic on several shelves draws his attention. The shelves themselves are also nothing like the metal, modular stuff he saw in WalMart. They were legitimate wood shelves with enchantments carved along the bottom, presumably to keep food on the shelf good longer and whatnot, since preservatives aren’t a thing in magic pony land. Cure actually runs back out of the store, grabs his notebook, and copies down the part of the enchantment he can see, much to Vines’ amusement. Smiling sheepishly at her, they continue their shopping.

“Hey they have fish,” he’s surprised to see. And even more surprising, none of the ponies are losing their shit over it.

Then again the ‘rents didn’t bat an eye when I told them I was an omnivore. Dam was a little squicked out about hunting, but dad even joked about me eating mom that night. There’s hope yet!

“Of course they do, honey. Pegasus need it in their diets for the oils and fats. It’s good for coats, too, but only they really need to eat it regularly. Eat too much and it’ll upset your belly, though. Earth ponies and unicorns can have a little bit every day and be fine. Too much oil can cause some skin conditions if you’re not careful. I’m not a big fan myself, but Title’s been getting cravings for salmon since the pregnancy began.”

“That could be the sign of a vitamin deficiency. Those cravings are usually the body telling the brain that it needs something it’s not getting in your diet normally, so it’s not a good idea to ignore them, especially if her OBGYN has recommended it.”

“Her what?”

“Her doctor. Don’t you typically go to a specialized doctor for everything related to the pregnancy?”

“No, honey. You don’t go to the doctor unless you’re having some kind of complication or if it’s time to give birth.”

“Huh. Okay, well, if her body is telling her she needs fish I would still recommend it. I know some good recipes and wouldn’t mind having some myself, but I don’t know how expensive meat is. It’s something I’ll probably need more when I start growing since, ya know, protein builds muscles. Either meat or some kind of substitute like soybeans, tofu, almonds, chia seeds - I used to put those in my oatmeal for breakfast, or chickpeas. I didn’t care for those or hummus before, but who knows now,” he shrugs.

“Meat is a tad pricier because there’s not much demand around here, so very little supply too. I think weather ponies, guards, and other pegasus that are stationed somewhere get a small stipend to help cover the added expense when they’re assigned to towns like ours.”

I’m genuinely impressed. That’s a logical and reasonable way for the government to address a problem. Will wonders never cease…

After all their selections are made, including both tofu and a dozen small salmon patties, they make their purchase. All transactions are purely cash, he notes, with no paper money to speak of. All the currency seems to be coins of various sizes, cuts, and colors. He reflects that it’s a little odd that he doesn’t really know anything about money at eight years old. Then again, humans definitely commercialized a whole lot more than ponies. The only time he can recall using money when he was a young boy was when he’d get a quarter to go to the concession stand during James’ baseball games, so maybe it’s just not that big of a deal after all. Most foals probably never even pay attention to the part where money changes hooves.

Also, hoof-written receipt. How quaint. Half the checkout time is the poor clerk writing the receipt out, but again he’s not surprised at the complete disregard for inefficiencies in pony society.

NCR would absolutely love to expand to Equestria. Shame they’re gone now. And in another universe, I suppose. Hell, get me some Microsoft products over here. No Apple though. That one IIe was the last Apple product I’ll own in any lifetime. Fucking piece of shit. I’d take a Commodore any day over that mess. Get me some Kung Fu side scrolling action again.

A quick transfer of the purchased products to his dam’s cart and they were on their way back home.

The trip back was uneventful, though Cure enjoyed the quiet just trotting next to his dam. They would occasionally bump into each other, his head occasionally barely bumping into her shoulder.

When he started getting kind of tired he began cycling his magic through his system to see if it could reduce his fatigue. He pictured the magic reinforcing his muscles, supplying them with extra oxygen from his blood, stealing away energy from his fat stores and moving them to the cells in his legs, hips, shoulders, and barrel, breaking down lactic acid buildup in his muscles and, finally, telling his system to aggressively reinforce microtears in them. It wasn’t a far walk to town; maybe two, two and a half miles (about four kilometers), but with his short legs it was still a lot of ground to cover in only a few hours.

He was certain that the process worked and, to his surprise, barely seemed to drain him at all.

Okay, that took a lot less effort than changing that plant. I feel like I could keep running and supplying my body with magic for… quite a while, really. Am I actually even burning more magic than I’m gaining? Yeah… I think so, but it’s pretty close. So what’s going on here?

Well, clearly it’s MY body, so the magic doesn’t have to actually leave me at all to work. Oh! Duh! I have my mark now. I bet just having it lowers the cost of related magic uses. I told mom and dad to use that as kind of a casting/channeling focus, but I haven’t even thought to do so myself. Well let’s give that a whirl.

Still maintaining the “make me swol” process, as it shall forever be called in his head, Cure imagined a separate channel running back to his cutie marks MoD. He was not prepared for the flood of information and damn near face planted.

“Cure? What happened? Did you trip on a rock? I don’t see anything in the road, what did you hit?”

“No, I was dumb. I tried something that I should have first tried while not running down the road and almost ate dirt for my trouble,” he explained, getting back into the rhythm while keeping up with his dam. “You remember how I told mom and dad that if they used their marks as a focus they would probably gain insights about their work above and beyond normal?” he asked as they trotted along.

“Yeah, why? Did you try the same thing?”

“Yep. Should probably try new things while standing still. Or sitting down. Or laying down. Whatever. Either way, when I tried that it kind of expanded my perception of my body. It was like opening my eyes in a bright room after you’ve been asleep. Totally overloaded me with information and threw off my gait,” he explained. “I’m fine, didn’t twist anything, just kind of misplaced my hoof.”

“Okay. Well if you’re tired I can carry you or you can sit in the cart. There’s still room. I was expecting you to get tired by now since going to town and back is farther than you normally go in just a few hours. It isn’t much when you’re grown up, but to a colt your size you should be tired by now.”

“Before I messed up I had actually already been cycling my magic from my lungs, fat stores, and muscles, so the fatigue I was experiencing had already cleared up by the time I did that. Like I said, I was dumb. I’ll try it again when we get home, though. Kinda curious what all I can do, ya know?”

“Sure honey, just be careful.”

And so they continue until they arrive at home. The neighborhood kids had been summoned by various triangles, whistles, bells, and other “get home and eat lunch” methods, so they were able to arrive unmolested.

Author's Note

I have a few more pre-written but I'm probably going to move to a "one chapter every few days" schedule now that I've dumped most of the backlog. Chapter 9 will probably get posted on Thursday, give or take... then we'll just see from there on out. I have a million ideas, but many of them are quite a ways into the future, so I might have like chapter 40 planned, but I still need to get from 11 to 39 in there before you'll see that.

Hope you've enjoyed so far! Thanks for reading.

Chapter 9: Magic Experiments 2: MoD & TK

Wednesday, September 3rd, 908 AB

After arriving home, Vines and Cure put away the groceries and whip up a small lunch. Vines’ plan for the afternoon is to get some house cleaning done, so Cure opts to get out of her way and plans to go outside and find a nice, shaded area to start reading. He grabs a pencil, his notebook, the anatomy book, the nutrition and dietary science book, and a nice book stand. They’re much more common in pony homes due to pony ergonomics.

Feeling a little cliché, he finds a nice maple tree in the backyard he gets to work.

Okay, so I have a number of things to test today. Let’s make a list so I can keep it organized.

Cure’s Magic Testing notes, round 2

MoD

What capabilities?

How much more efficient than normal?

Touch Telekinesis

Hooves only?

Strength

Can it increase with training?

Shaping

Try a hand, claws, other grasping appendages like a whip

Can it be focused into an edge, a point, etc.

Range

Touch only?

Target aspects

Does it surround the target

I.e. the “lifting a plane” problem

Apply different pressure at different points

Does it penetrate the surface at all

How does it work on multiple small objects?

Like a force field? A hand?

Attract / repel?

Force direction

Can it spin things?

Do forces have to go all one direction?

Obviously not or grabbing wouldn’t work

Can you twist parts of an object? Bend it?

Does this impact the force?

Can it push instead of pull

Impact on physics

Does it mitigate gravity, mass, etc. at all?

Can it “soak” into objects?

FATE reinforcement BS

Earth pony innate abilities (may be MoD related)

Plant

Growing

Tested, verified w/ Dam

Harvesting

Same

Modifying

Keep an eye on melon and other ‘enhanced’ plants

Buffs

Mitigate fatigue

Reduce need for sleep?

Need to quantify STR buff.

Additive to current strength or multiplicative?

Buff other qualities

END

Worked on run home from grocery

AGI? Maybe buff nerves?

Mental aspects?

Perception speed?

Dexterity? Aim w/ thrown objects maybe, or precision with strikes somehow?

Toughness / Reinforcement

Will volunteer dad for this one. Again.

Staying warm or cool

Need to research how body does this exactly already

Shivering = muscles firing off

Sweating

Dilation / contraction of blood vessels on skin surface

Healing

Ditto

Regrow or repair cilia?

Other body processes

Digestion?

Childbearing?

Sex / fertility?

Fetal development?

Enhance Senses

Hearing, smell, eyesight, etc.

Consider how to implement permanent changes without harm

Don’t forget to numb nerves!

Identify vestigial organs to replace? Appendix?

Attempt enhancements to redundant organs?

One lobe of a lung?

Copy patterns from nature

Automation

Program triggers?

Build subroutines?

Get Swol v1.0 seems to work

Modularize process

Where would this be “saved” ?

Keep constant flow? Long term health benefits?

Knowing there was more to do but unsure what else to add at the time, Cure decides he’s no longer willing to wait. With a quick thought to how BS like this works in shitty fanfics he runs inside the house to find his dam before starting.

“Hey, just so you know, I’m going to be out back under the maple for a while, possibly. I wanted to experiment with channeling magic through my mark, but I’ve read stories where people do stuff like that and kind of get “lost” in it. Can you come check on me in a little while and make sure I’m not totally vegging out?”

“Sure, honey. That’s a good idea. I’ll finish up my cleaning and come out to join you with my book in a little bit. Don’t try to do anything with your mark except for seeing yet, okay? You’re going to read that safety book before you do anything else with magic, young colt.” After a moment’s thought she adds, “And you kind of owe Mr. Binder an apology. He ended up being very helpful.”

“I never said he wasn’t helpful,” Cure points out. “He was helpful both times and I thanked him for that. My observation that he was being a prick was accurate, though. What kind of adult listens to a kid say they want to be a doctor someday and responds by saying “Work real hard and you’ll make a great nurse”? Adults should encourage children, not be tribalist bigots. I bet his tune would have been different if I had a horn.”

Clearly uncomfortable with the observation, Vines shifts her weight between her hooves. “Well… I can’t say you’re wrong. Still, young colts should not be calling names. Especially to helpful ponies.”

Nodding, Cure explains, “In general, I agree, but some ponies don’t realize that what they say to somepony else, especially a child, can have a real impact. Any other young earth pony might have accepted a unicorn’s word as that of an authority figure. They may take that to heart and figure they could never do better than a nurse,” he says, waving a forehoof about, “or whatever in their situation.” Softening his expression he continues, “I love you, dam, but if a situation like that were to happen to my brother or sister or, someday, my own foal I would have definitely said something to him right there on the spot. I think I couldn’t hold back calling him a prick because it was my way of completely dismissing his condescending attitude towards me.”

Cure pauses for a moment in thought. “Truthfully, if I was older and wouldn’t be immediately dismissed as a child I would probably actually speak up for anypony in that situation, family or not. The library is a place of learning. Him being patronizing is almost as bad as a teacher doing it.”

Tail and ears flagging, Vines can’t seem to muster a good reason to disagree with him. “I’m not so sure most earth ponies would listen to somepony just because they’re a unicorn. Why do you feel that way, honey?” she asks.

Dumbfounded by the obvious question, Cure asks, “What tribe do most of the nobles that run the country belong to, dam?”

Unable to face her son she turns away and mumbles, “Unicorns…”

“What’s the mayor of Baltimare?”

Vines grimaces, and turns away but answers, “A unicorn.”

“And what is the princess and near-deity ruler of this country?”

Shocked at her son’s question, she whips back to face him and immediately answers, “She’s not a unicorn! The princess is an alicorn, honey. You know that.”

“Do you have a picture of her? You brought that history book home, right? Are there any pictures of her in it?”

Vines had sat the book on the dining room table. Together they go to the table, open the book, and find a picture of the princess sitting on the throne at the bottom of the foreword.

“Yep… just as I thought.” He grabs the book and jumps up on the table. Holding the book up as far as he can, he is able to barely get it high enough that Vines has to look up at it. “Your princess sits before you, dam, looking down on you from her golden throne, what would you see? Look up at the princess and imagine her facing directly at you, dam.”

Confused, Vines pauses in thought. She looks up at the picture, which shows the princess turned slightly so her wings are visible, though still at a mostly forward-facing angle.

When a few seconds pass without a response Cure answers for her. “You would see the tallest unicorn with the biggest horn you’ve ever seen in your life with a fancy tiara sitting on her head, right? Take a look at that picture. I’m not sure how it is with ponies, but humans almost always look at eyes first. But aside from her eyes, what’s the first thing about her that you’re going to notice?” he asks as he gradually leans the book towards his dam.

Looking up at the picture again and imagining facing the princess, she can’t help but acknowledge her son’s point, much as she’d like to have a good argument.

“I’m betting it wouldn’t be the tiara. That’s probably just a piece of jewelry, though I would assume it has some enchantments on it for preservation and to keep it shiny, at least. No, what you would notice if you were looking up, bowed before her is her height, her huge horn, then after those maybe her tiara or her billowing mane, then maybe you’d eventually make note of the wings. Ponies associate a horn with authority, whether they mean to or not,” tapping on the picture with his other hoof he continues, “and the biggest horn is the highest authority. We’ve been conditioned to mentally associate the two for a millennium, dam.”

He sets the book down and hugs Vines around the neck, nuzzling into her mane. “Don’t feel bad about it, okay? It’s a purely subconscious thing. It isn’t yours or anypony else’s fault.” Releasing the hug he gives her a quick peck on her cheek and jumps off the table. As he starts walking away he calls over his withers, “I bet even the princess herself doesn’t think about it. She probably never even considered that putting the sign of rulership behind her horn could lead to conditioning her ponies.” Pausing in thought for a moment he adds, “It probably wouldn’t have mattered if the tiara went around her horn instead. That would end up with her horn being the center of the tiara… so I guess there’s just no winning that. She probably just put it where it was most comfortable and never gave it another thought. Maybe if she had just stuck with the regalia as her sign of authority a millennium ago it wouldn’t be as prominent. See ya in a bit, dam.” With that, Cure heads out the door back to his tree.

Now confident he won’t fall into some stupid cliche “you were sitting there for six hours” meditative state, he gets comfortable and lays his head down like he’s taking a nap.

So flipping the switch to “visualize magic” is definitely getting easier. That makes sense, anything you do repeatedly will get easier over time. Still, I’m amazed how natural this feels. I never felt shit when I meditated as a human aside from the whole calming aspects, or maybe a fart slipping out while stretching, but to actually have an entire new sensorium is trippy. The fact that it comes so naturally solidifies my belief that humanity simply has zero capacity for magic, at least of the same flavor as ponies. We probably would have just killed ourselves with it anyhow, I suppose.

Enough distractions and ADD asides, let’s see what I can see in normal mode, first.

With the magic flowing through his body Cure is able to easily picture himself as a model. He moves the “camera” around effortlessly just by willing it so.

Even more intuitive than Minority Report. Neat GUI, wish my Oculus was this easy. Whoever the developer is probably has a bit more experience. Huh… that’s an interesting thought. If this is a system it was built. I wonder if the collective will of the planet birthed some kind of magic intelligence. Of course then you run into the whole chicken and egg thing.

Argh! C’mon, focus dude. Stay on target. Gold Five is so disappointed in me.

Alrighty, so… well, not sure what to say here. “Hey there, good lookin? Why the long face?” Dunno, I seem like a perfectly healthy colt, which is good, I suppose. What kind of resolution can I get here?

Mentally zooming in on his eye, Cure’s focus zeroes in until his right eyeball occupies the entirety of his “view”.

I’m looking at my eye. For my next trick, I’m going to lick my elbow. That aside, this whole “rotate, slice, zoom” functionality is ridiculous. My own special ability makes a multimillion dollar imaging machine redundant. No wonder technology has stagnated if any rando could do things like this. We don’t need to invest ten billion dollars in R&D, just call the right pony. Until he or she dies of old age, I guess.

So, I can zoom in and out to a pretty ridiculous level of detail. I can will away intervening layers. What about changing view modes? Contrast and b… oh, wow!

As he was thinking, so did his magic provide. With just another thought Cure found that altering color schemes, adjusting light levels, or making other changes to the way he was viewing his eyeball took no real effort whatsoever. Just visualize what he wants and his magic complies.

Well, I’m not really LOOKING at the eyeball, just perceiving it, presumably in a way that my brain is able to interpret, which is visually, of course. It’s not like I’m using my eyes, so it’s logical that the normal limitations of an eyeball wouldn’t apply… while I’m looking at my eyeball.

What happens when I blink? Welp, there it goes. A blink. Let’s replay that in slow motion… and done… eventually. Pause, rotate. ENHANCE! Well, not everything will work, I guess.

Okay, so I can easily zoom down to the point where nerves, tiny blood vessels, and everything else is clearly visible. I can see everything in basically any way I want. I’m not going to fuck with my eyeball, though, so let’s look somewhere else. Heart is right out, not messing with my digestive tract, especially while I’m sitting outside in public. Brain is a no-go, even if most people I met never used theirs. I’ve already done some basic work on my muscles once on the way home and I don’t want to bulk myself up a bunch before puberty even starts or who knows what kind of freak I’ll look like.

Definitely not messing with the crotch area… save that for puberty too. Hey ladies… pardon me while I whip this out… FWOMP

Ok, so let’s get a good look at the lungs.

Hmm… so, it never really occurred to me before that the left lung has to be a bit smaller because the heart is over there. I guess pony hearts are more centered than human ones, though. That’s weird because I thought hunters targeted the left side specifically for a kill shot. Was I just assuming that? Meh, different world, who knows what all is applicable here.

So, there’s a huge-ass set of lungs. If I recall correctly, there’s little cavities on the side where blood yoinks oxygen out of the air and deposits carbon dioxide. Wait… I AM breathing oxygen, aren’t I? Ponies aren’t some kind of silicon based life form breathing something weird, are we? No… that can’t be. We have lamps and candles and shit. Fire is oxygenation. Then again, other shit burns too, right? Fuck it, for now I’m going to assume a similar 80/20 nitrogen, oxygen mix, ignoring that 1% “other shit” until I find out what that is. Damn, maybe I do need science class again.

Coming out of his meditation for a moment, Cure notices his dam is now laying beside him reading. “Oh, hey, perfect. Have I been out of it long?” he asks as he sits up.

Turning to smile down at him she replies, “No, honey, you’ve only been out here for a little while. I just finished cleaning a few minutes ago.”

“Cool. Hey when you had science class in school did they go into chemistry much? Earth’s air was like 80% nitrogen, 20% oxygen, and there were a few other things,” he explains as he waves a hoof in the air. “I assumed it’s the same here but I just had an errant thought about respiration and figured I should ask.”

Nodding, she answers, “They did talk about the air we breathe in science class when talking about how important plants and nature are, though I never took any chemistry classes. That’s something you could learn more about at a university. Still, I remember them saying only about a quarter of “air” is what our bodies actually use.”

“Good deal. Thanks, dam,” he says as he lays back down.

Okay, where was I? Left lung, zoomed in. The lung inflates as air comes in. Big tube goes to branches, branches get smaller, and there’s the little sack-things at the end where the blood must be trading the CO2 for O2. Yep, lots of blood vessels right on the other side of that bit of tissue. And lookie there, the ones coming out… arteries? Or Veins? Well, they’re going TO the heart, so… veins I guess. Anyhow, they’re much brighter red than the ones going in. That’s neat. I guess it’s not so squicky when you can just kinda see it without blood shooting everywhere. The body is just a machine, Cure. An insidiously complex machine that, if you fuck up, will kill you.

Okay, enough dithering, let’s fire up the mark.

Slowly channeling his magic into his mark, he feels like another layer of detail is loading on top of the interface.

Okay, so this is a lot crisper. I can see… everything? Yep, I can zoom in to the cellular level. I remember doing that with leaves in school. It takes a REALLY good microscope to get this level of magnification. That is potentially useful, I suppose. I can’t picture how off the top of my head, but it is fascinating at least. Okay, so what will this actually let me do that I couldn’t do anyhow? If I could already see as well as needed to guide body functions then what could I do with this high of resolution that I couldn’t before?

I can see smaller things. I bet I could see shit that’s not supposed to be there. I guess I could also see, in real time, what effects changing things would have at a cellular level… not sure that would be useful, though. Again, there’s potential but how do I take advantage of it? It’s not like I can just start making changes to my body without potentially killing myself, how the hell would I know how something is supposed to work until I see it?

Wait… until I SEE it! I could use this to copy physical aspects. Oh wow… I can steal nature’s designs. Can I apply them then? I changed a plant, but that’s not … well, not TOTALLY dissimilar from any other living being, I guess. Where’s the line? Is there one? It’s a totally different cell structure, obviously, but I think plant and animal cell structures are stupidly close to each other, like 90% or something. I remember some dumb blurb about a human and a banana sharing like half of the same DNA and how all humans are 99.9% the same.

I definitely don’t have that level of detail, so no Panacea bullshit for now. Hmm, actually…

Grabbing a blade of grass, Cure delves right back in. Vines looks over at the movement, but seeing her son staring at a piece of grass she just goes back to reading.

I made a plant change colors. There’s no way that wasn’t a genetic change. Let’s do some mad science here. Cackling optional.

Focusing on his magic and drawing from his mark he pushes into the blade of grass. Targeting the entire structure of the blade of grass he focuses specifically on the chlorophyll. Using his own blood as a template, he pours his magic into the small piece of grass and demands the chlorophyll change to match. He observes as the magic saturates the blade from bottom to top, slowly changing as it progresses. Once complete he takes a moment to look it over, then opens his eyes.

“Oh my God, it worked…” escapes his lips. Held in his hoof is the same blade of grass, now blood red from base to tip.

Glancing over casually, Vines looks back at her book before doing a double take, then focusing on her son’s hoof. “Honey? Why’d you change the color of that grass?” she asks, bewildered. “Wait… that doesn’t look right.” Leaning over she sniffs at the grass. Jumping up, she turns to fully face him. With a wide-eyed stare she asks, “What did you do, Cure? That piece of grass smells like blood!” she quietly exclaimed.

“Uhh… changed the stuff that makes plants green into blood? Don’t worry, it’s not like it’s MY blood,” he pauses, “Well, it is in a way. I’d really like to know where the iron came from… anyhow, I used my blood as a basis and pushed magic into the plant to change the chlorophyll into it.” He lets out a big yawn and mumbles, “Whew, I’m tired though. That took a bit out of me. Don’t worry, though,” waving away her concern he continues, “I’m not cut or anything like that, I just changed a plant in a different way, dam.”

“Don’t worry? You made a bloody piece of grass, Cure! That’s something a parent should definitely worry about.” Stopping for a moment she looks around to ensure nopony is near her. Thankfully, there’s not a soul anywhere nearby.

“Well think about it this way. Somepony gets cut really bad, okay? Let’s say a training accident in the guard. If they lost enough blood you could get a donor to give them some, right?” he asks. At her wary nod he continues, “Well instead of getting it from another pony you could just get it from a plant… maybe. Obviously this needs to be tested, but there’s nothing malicious going on here. I just used blood because blood in animals and chlorophyll in plants serve similar purposes. You know, kind of a rough equivalent?”

“I don’t know, honey. You’re doing magic… with blood. Isn’t blood magic banned?”

“Blood magic is a thing? What does it do?” he asks, now curious. “No, never mind that,” shaking the thought away he explains, “No, I’m not doing blood magic. I’m doing, if anything, medical magic here. Maybe some kind of transmutation that fits within the scope of my mark? If somepony had an infection and I cleaned it out with magic then I’m not doing,” making air quotes he says, “blood magic, am I?”

“No… I guess not.”

“Right, big difference. Saying this is blood magic is like saying… oh I don’t know… That Celestia raising the sun is the same as throwing a fireball? Technically, she is moving a ball of fire. Technically, I’m doing magic and creating blood. I’m not using blood as some kind of active ingredient to cast a curse on a target, am I? No, this is definitely not “blood magic” whatever that is. Just what is blood magic, anyhow? I didn’t even know there was such a thing,” he finishes with a shrug.

“I have no idea, Cure. I don’t know anything about magic other than what I’ve learned with you the last few days and the common sense stuff… you know, unicorns levitating things, whatever. Sorry if I jumped to conclusions, but I don’t think most ponies would react well to surprise blood when their colt is learning magic, you know.”

“That’s fair. I won’t do anything else for now. Umm…” looking at the grass unsure what to do with it he looks around for an idea. “I think I’m going to just… uhh… can we burn this or something?” he asks, offering her the grass. Vines takes a step back like it’s going to bite her. “It’s not bleeding, dam. The blood is all in the grass just like the liquid would be otherwise. I’m sure the blade of grass itself is dead since, you know, it doesn’t have “plant” blood anymore. Maybe if you mushed it up or something you could get actual blood out of it.”

“Go run it in the house and set it in the sink. We’ll get rid of it later. You better not get blood everywhere in the kitchen!”

Cure starts heading to the door. He calls over his withers, “Again, it’s not bleeding. Just think of it as a red piece of grass. That’s all it really is.”

Parents freak out at unexpected blood while their colt practices magic. More at 11. That was probably not a wise decision on my part. At least I don’t have some ridiculous conflict drive, but I do wonder if ponies are compelled to act on their mark in some way. Everyone wants to do what they’re good at, though. Especially if it’s unique to them. Good lord are there like… drug dealer marks? Prostitution marks? I’d be torn between horrified and proud if the planet itself essentially designated me the best lay in existence. “Hey dam, look what I’m good at!”

Cure opens the door and heads in. He sets the single blade of grass in the sink and starts heading back out to the tree. Shoulda just ate the damn thing and been done with it. Then again, that’s how zombie plagues start. It is just my blood, though.

Anyhow, I bet I could do some fucked up shit with this. I could build a redundant heart or a third lung or something. We only have what we have for a reason, though. Evolution already spent a million years figuring out what works best.

Well, then again some of the stressors guiding evolution are kind of no longer valid in a civilization, aren’t they? Atrophy, for example, is the body’s way of reducing the expenditure of maintaining muscle that isn’t being used. I bet I could make it so I just never lose muscle mass unless I want to. I’ll… I’ll always be in perfect health, once I get an image of what “perfect health” looks like. Holy shit, I need to start collecting living specimens from animals and shit. Without the whole “that was inefficient because the specimen couldn’t get enough food to survive having that” problem I bet I could be like… I don’t even know. Some kind of ridiculous uber pony.

Returning to his dam’s side, Cure sits back down and, distractedly, begins poking around in the anatomy book while zoning out.

So realistically how can I approach this? It’s not like I can run out into the Everfree and find a hydra to analyze how its regeneration works, if they even have that here. Where can I find animals that I can scan that will let me without nomming a leg off? I can honestly say I never expected to have the thought “I sure wish Fluttershy were here”.

Zoos! I need to go to a zoo! Do ponies have zoos? Are they like… petting zoos? Animals are kind of intelligent, at least in the show, so maybe a zoo is like a vacation spot for wild animals. “Hey there Mr. Lion, how bout you come live here for a bit. We’ll feed you and you can just kinda take it easy, but don’t eat any of the foals, okay?”

I guess I could also probably copy templates from ponies. If I’m going into medicine I’ll have plenty of opportunities to meet different individuals. Nopony has the strongest everything, but if I met the Wonderbolts, for example, that would probably get me templates for a super healthy heart, lungs, etc. If I can find some Big Mac kinda fucker that’ll tell me what a huge ol stronk earth pony should look like. Maybe their muscles would literally be evolutionarily superior.

There’s clearly only one valid solution here. Kidnap Princess Celestia and do the Copy & Paste move on her. I’m sure that would go REALLY well. I wonder if alicorns ever lose a feather. Hmm. Maybe I can Jurassic Park her ass. Let a bunch of mosquitos out in the castle garden then catch them all later and analyze the results. They’d probably burst into flames trying to bite her.

I dunno, these ideas feel like they may be just a teeny bit on the unethical side. Would Princess Celestia get off her ass to fry a dude if Twilight isn’t around yet to run her errands? Survey says, “You’re on fire!”

Okay, so the plan with my “special talent” is basically, “Grow up, be a good doctor, and identify superior specimens as they become available.” Maybe add “Go to a zoo” onto that. Oh, also “Don’t be a colossal idiot and end up the Villain of the Week”.

Coming out of his trance again, Cure sits up and looks around. Still feeling a bit worn out he rolls over and flops against Vines’ side.

“So I did learn at least a couple things about my special talent, other than “can turn things into blood”, which should be a hit on Nightmare Night. It turns out that I can basically see… well, everything about my body with it. It’s the same thing I did when I looked at dad’s shoulder, just with the ability to get much higher detail, and quite a bit less traumatizing,” he says with a shudder. “Also, I can obviously guide my magic to make actual changes like healing or making a muscle grow stronger, but I wasn’t willing to do that to myself, hence blood grass,” he explains as if this is just a thing ponies have to learn to live with.

Vines lets out a huge sigh, apparently still a little freaked out over the prospect of disposing of a single bloody piece of grass. “While I’m glad you had the foresight not to experiment on yourself, I would very much prefer you not make a habit of turning plants into bloody experiments, honey. I imagine I would get quite a bit more than just complaints if I accidentally sold the wrong fruit at the market.” Pausing to think for a moment, she adds, “You should really let your body do what it’s supposed to do anyhow. Things are the way they are for a reason.”

“Yeah, for most things I agree, but there’s some things the body does because it made sense to do that ten thousand years ago, even if it doesn’t apply to the situation here and now. Like fat, for example. We do need some fat, that’s true, but if a pony eats too much their body says, “Oh hey I should store this extra energy because I may need it later.” Of course, nopony likes to be fat, so the pony would say “Wow I sure wish I could lose this fat without running” or whatever. Well, I could use my magic to basically just go in and have the body break down the fat itself and expel it through their urine like you would do with excess vitamins your body doesn’t need. Probably not too much at once, but a few ounces per day would still chip away at it.”

“You can make ponies lose weight? That’s incredible, Cure! Famous ponies like models would just throw money at you for that alone.”

“Yeah, but I was just using that as an example of something the body does naturally that isn’t really what you would want to happen nowadays. It’s like… it was a survival tool at the time, but now with plenty of available food we don’t have to eat a bunch to survive winter. There’s other examples I thought of like… earlier I was thinking about atrophy of the muscles. When a pony is recovering from something and they can’t move, their muscles deteriorate. I could basically use my magic and tell their body, “Hey, don’t use up that muscle. They still need that. They’re not starving to death, so keep the muscle around even if they’re not using it right now.” I’m sure there’s a million other uses I’ll pick up as I learn. I really have no clue what the limit could be here, so I need a way to safely experiment.”

Cure isn’t sure how his dam will react to the idea, but he feels compelled to ask. “When humans are doing medical experiments - and again, I feel like I need to remind you that animals are not even close to sentient on Earth - once we get past the theoretical stage and actually start testing a treatment we typically use lab mice or rats. They’re genetically surprisingly close to humans and all their organs work the same way, so we can get an idea of how a human will react to treatment. Of course, if everything goes well there they do small clinical trials on humans that agree to test the drug or whatever. How do ponies test medicine?”

“Oh that’s actually very similar here, honey. We test medicine and treatments on mice and rats the same way, it sounds like. Not all animals are sentient, sweetie. Many are just as much an animal as fish are. A few animals have that extra spark, though, and we treat them appropriately… as long as they’re not trying to eat us, that is.”

“Cool. What about zoos? What are those like? I guess I’m just not clear on how to differentiate between animals like on Earth and the more sentient ones here. In those stories I keep referencing it seemed like most animals had a level of intelligence almost like a very young child would have.”

“That’s surprising,” she paused to hold up the book she was reading, “most of what you’ve said about the world’s history and the princess seems like it matches up very well with the world. It’s a little scary, honestly, to think that beings from a whole different universe could get so much stuff right when we have no clue that they even exist. I did find one reference to a very obscure myth about a visitor from another realm helping the very earliest of ponies, but this mysterious being wasn’t described at all. Only that she had otherworldly knowledge and guided ponies towards civilization. That was thousands of years ago, though, way before the Age of Chaos even.”

“Weird. You said she was a visitor, though. I don’t think anyone would describe my situation that way. I’m pretty sure I’m not just stopping by for a visit, huh dam?” he laughed as he leaned into her fur.

“You better not be!” she growled while poking him. “My colt’s not going anywhere without his dam!” she cries out while pouncing on him. Wrapping him in her forelegs and rolling onto her back she continues, “You’re right, though. It sounded like she didn’t stay here. Maybe she had some way to come and go at will. It doesn’t sound like humans have that ability from what you’ve said.”

“No, definitely not,” he replied, snuggling down into her fur. “I suppose at some point humanity could possibly develop a technology to reach across the multiverse, but I think it’s more likely for ponykind to find them first. There may already be a portal, actualHURK,” he stops mid-sentence as the life is almost squeezed out of him.

“WHAT? Don’t even think about it!” Vines cries before he can even respond. Looking upwards he can tell she’s already starting to turn on the waterworks.

“Settle down, dam! Need air!”

When Vines eases back enough he can get enough air Cure continues, “One of the stories had a mirror portal that went from Equestria to a parallel Earth, but it wasn’t my Earth at all. I guess it’s possible it could be, but the princess will have that mirror locked away in her castle somewhere. There are humans on the other side, but they’re very different from the humans on my Earth. Besides, I’m eight years old. Even if I could magically go to the right Earth tomorrow I’ve been dead there for almost a decade… and I’d be a kid there again, presumably. No, that life is over. I wouldn’t mind snagging a few pieces of tech, though… and maybe sending a letter or two. That may just cause more pain, though.”

“I swear you’re trying to give your dam a heart attack today, Cure. I can’t take any more! Have some mercy on your dam, colt!” Vines fake-cries.

“Pfft, please. You silly ponies just overreact to everything,” he says as he pats her on the shoulder. “I’ll try to hold off on any more big reveals until tomorrow, though. Wouldn’t want ya keeling over before dinner’s ready, after all.”

“You little snot!” she rolls over on top of him and pins him down, poking and tickling him all over.

“Ahh! Child abuse! Somepony help me!”

“Grr! More like parental abuse! I work and slave all day long,” she moans, “and my only beloved son is trying to give me a heart attack! So cruel!”

Finally he wiggles away and runs to the other side of the tree. “Slave all day long my tail. You’re sitting under a tree reading a book!”

Vines points a hoof at him and shouts, “I get my union breaks too!”

“What union?”

“Shut yer trap, that’s what union!”

Snickering, he waves her down. “Fine, fine, I’ll be good.” He walks back over to his notebook and writes some notes about his MoD ideas.

"Hey, you never answered the zoo question. How do they work and what's the story with animal sentience?

"Oh right. Zoos have smarter animals only. Or at least, a smarter animal acts as a go-between for others of their kind, so if there’s a pride of lions at least one of them will be intelligent and they are almost always the pride leader, even if it’s not the male. You were pretty close, actually. The animals are compensated with food, lodging, safety, and medical care. Their trainers basically work with them like talent agents. If they don't want to stay they're released back in their habitat. It's safer for everycreature that way. I understand several take advantage when they lose a mate or are injured."

“That sounds like a way better system than what they have on Earth. I guess I'll need to add zoos to the list of things that I need to look into."

Cure takes a few minutes to write some notes and read over experiments he wanted to get to. "Okay, dam, I have another round of experiments that I could use a hoof with, if you’re interested.”

“No blood?”

“Not if we do it right.”

At her scowl he holds up his hooves, “Joking. No blood.”

“Sure, what are you up to now?”

Flipping to the list he made earlier, Cure shows her his notes about touch telekinesis.

“So is there a technical term for whatever is happening when you pick things up with your hooves? It’s called touch telekinesis when we refer to that ability on Earth. It’s not something we actually have; it exists in fantasy stories or comic books… hence my need to experiment with it.”

“I’ve never heard it called anything. We just… you know, grab things.”

“Right. Do you have to think about it at all? I’ve noticed it’s just automatic for me.”

“No, like I said… just grab.” She holds up the book she was reading to demonstrate.

“When you do that, what exactly are you visualizing?”

“That it’s sticking to my hoof?” she answers hesitantly.

“Which part of it?”

“Uhh… the whole thing?”

Raising an eyebrow he points out, “You don’t seem very sure about that.”

“I was until you asked,” she glares at him.

“Think about it… Instead of holding the book out to me, hold it like you’re going to set it on the ground face-down. Just don’t set it down… hold it like that.”

Vines nods and holds the book as requested.

“What part are you grabbing?”

“Uhh…”

“You must be holding the whole book because it’s not falling open like it would if your hoof was just stuck to the back.”

The book immediately falls open. Vines shoots him a glare. “You broke it!”

“What? I didn’t do anything!”

“You made me think about it!”

“Well stop thinking. Maybe we can get dad to show you how.”

“HAH! Don’t be mean to your father. He means well.”

“He likes it. It’s a stallion thing. It’s how we show love.”

Vines rolls her eyes at him.

“Turn the book back over again and grab it like you did the first time. Just don’t think about the fact that you’re magically somehow grabbing onto something without fingers and that you have no clue how you’re doing it.”

The book falls completely off her hoof. Both ponies just stare at it for a moment.

Looking aghast at her hoof she whips her head to look at Cure. “WHAT DID YOU DO?”

“Uhh. Seriously?”

“FIX MY HOOF!” she yells as she holds it out to him.

“Your hoof is fine!” Cure looks around warily. “Stop yelling or the neighbors are going to come see what’s going on!”

“Cure! You’re doing something, aren’t you? Is this a prank?”

Starting to panic a little himself, he quickly answers, “No, dam. I think maybe you just never even thought about it. Try your other hoof.”

She tries to pick up the book. Nothing happens at all. Vines starts becoming frantic while alternating trying her left and right hooves, getting nowhere. From a distance, Cure notes, it probably looks like she’s trying to stamp out a fire.

Stopping she turns to him with the saddest pony look ever. “How am I going to cook dinner now, Cure?” she whines. Like a switch is flipped she suddenly glares at him again and points a hoof at him. “You’re in so much trouble, mister! Just wait until your sire gets home!”

“Wait…what? You're worried about cooking dinner? I'd be more worried about wiping my… wait a second…” he scowls at her, “you’re messing with me!"

Vines freezes for a second… then busts out laughing, pounding the ground with her foreleg, “Your face! HAHAHA!”

“Okay, fair. I deserved that one,” he waves at the book, “Just to be clear, you CAN pick it up, right?”

Giggling a few more times, she sits up on her haunches and picks up the book, all while giving him her biggest shit eating grin.

“Whew. Good. Between blood grass and breaking my dam dad and mom would have killed me. Okay, so… now that you’ve got THAT out of your system,” she giggles again, “... I hope… tell me what you’re picturing.”

“I just imagine a bubble wrapping around the book and it being held in place by that.”

“So do you get sensation in this bubble? Can you feel through it?”

“Not really. I can tell when I’m touching something and how much force I’m using.”

“Weird… that’s exactly how I’ve always done it too. I’m curious if we can do more, though. One sec…” Cure picks up another piece of grass and stares at it intently. He hears a low “you’d better not be…” from Vines, but he rolls his eyes as he ignores her, imagining a bubble around his hoof. Taking a peek with his mark he observes everything going on in his hoof. There’s… not really anything special at all. There’s no glands, no special cells, nothing that strikes him as out of place. There’s just a field projecting an inch or so off his hoof in a bubble. The frog of his hoof has thicker skin than elsewhere, obviously, but otherwise is completely unremarkable. The hoof itself is… just a hoof.

“I don’t see anything special about our hooves, dam. There’s no physical structure in the hoof that I can determine is responsible for this telekinetic field. I noticed ponies carrying stuff on their backs at the store today. Nopony dropped a single thing.”

“Okay… it’s just good balance. You'll get there.”

Stopping himself just shy of saying something, instead Cure grabs his notebook. “Do you mind doing a quick speed test, dam? I want to see how fast you can run for a short distance and just how good your balance is.”

“Umm, okay.” The abrupt subject change throws her off. “I’m not much of a runner, though.”

“That’s something we’re going to work on as a family, if you are all up for it.”

“Oh. Poo.”

“Now, now, dam,” he gently chides, “You want to be around to see all the grandfoals I’m going to give you some day, right? Gotta take good care of yourself.”

“You just said you can make me thin and healthy though,” she says pouting.

“Yeah, I also didn’t say that what we are going to work on as a family is going to be difficult at all. I think we’ll have fun. Exercising sucks when you’re not seeing the results. Trust me, you’ll see results.”

Pout vanquished, Vines thinks for a second and smiles bright. “Sounds good son! So… what do you want me to do?”

“Put this on your back and don’t drop it.” He hoofs her his notebook. She takes it and tosses it right behind her withers like nothing. “Okay, now this is just a quick test, so minimal distance involved. I want you to start at the tree,” he points to the maple tree they're standing by, “then run to the garden and do a loop around it… try your best to get to full speed for at least a few seconds, then run past the tree and stop, okay?”

“Okay. It’s been a minute since I actually ran. No making fun!” she points a hoof accusingly.

“Nope, no joking around or anything. This is a serious test, dam. Take off whenever you’re ready. Remember; try to get to full speed, make a nice, loop around the garden, come back, run past the tree. Okay?”

“Got it.” She assumes a runner’s squat, which actually looks remarkably like how a human would, just her rear legs are almost fully bent like she’s sitting on her haunches. “Give me a three count, Cure.”

He rolls his eyes but complies. “Three. Two. One. GO!”

HOLY SHIT! She’s gotta be subconsciously channeling magic. She just went from like zero to twenty in about two body lengths. Ponies are bullshit.

Getting up to a speed that beggars belief, Vines zips around the garden, loops back, and runs towards the tree. Before Cure even has a moment to think she’s slamming on the brakes and skids to a stop a few body lengths past him. He notices a few things right away. First, she’s not breathing hard at all… in fact, she’s barely breathing faster than normal. Second, he glances back and forth at the garden a few times to be sure, but she just ran about two hundred feet in less than eight seconds. From a standstill. With a turn. He doesn’t do the math, but that sounds like an olympic athlete off the top of his head. Third, the notebook is still on her back. It hasn’t even moved, at all. It’s still laying at the same angle that it was when she went from zero to twenty mph in about a second.

“That… was impressive. Did you ever run, like in a competition, or is that what an average adult earth pony can do?”

“No, I didn’t play sports growing up. That’s probably about normal. Your sire is definitely a bit quicker though.”

Cure takes a breath to ask if they had run to stay in shape or something, but the bright red hue of her ears and flick of her tail makes him pause with the question not quite escaping his lips.

“Be that as it may,” he starts, shaking his head to push the thoughts away, “look over your withers at the notebook.”

Vines twists around and looks at the book, then turns back to Cure and shrugs. “Like I said, good balance.”

“Dam… you took off like a shot arrow, ran in a loop, and stopped on a bit. That book didn’t move at all the entire time. It’s still turned the same as when you were hunched over ready to take off. I know, I checked its position when you were hunched low for your takeoff.”

“Oh.”

“Yeah, you’re subconsciously holding stuff on your back.” He pauses, “I was going to suddenly yell for you to stop to, ya know, surprise you and see if the book stayed on, but when you shot off like that I knew there was no point… you had already proved my theory. Here, take a seat, catch your breath, and watch… I hadn’t thought of this before. Dunno why,” he pauses to scratch at his chin, “I guess the whole running thing wasn’t really necessary. My bad,” he shrugs.

Vines sits on her haunches and watches Cure. He picks up his pencil in his hoof, holds it straight out, then scrunches his muzzle in concentration. For a minute or so nothing happens. Finally the pencil slowly moves over the edge of his hoof. It pauses there for a moment, then rotates and starts moving up his leg, which is still being held out horizontally. As it moves up his withers he puts his right hoof down and holds his left leg out. The pencil crawls over his withers, down his left leg, and into his hoof, where he grabs it and holds it up to show her.

Vines does the only thing she can think to do. She claps her hooves. “Ooh. Neat trick!”

Cure looks at her for a second before scowling. “I’m not falling for the whole playing dumb thing again.”

She pouts at him. Bottom lip sticking out and all.

“I swear… silly ponies. Ugh.” Cure sighs. “Okay, so, we have a telekinetic field around us, or at least we can, and it doesn’t just extend from our hooves. I already established that we can control the direction. Force…” Cure points his hoof at the tree. The pencil launches down his leg and hits the tree, bouncing off and landing on the grass.

“What was that?” Vines asks.

“I just threw the pencil.”

“Your leg didn’t move.”

“You still have my notebook on your back. While sitting almost straight up,” he replies.

Vines’ eyes widen and a “plot” noise is heard behind her. Cure just facehoofs keeps it there while holding the other hoof out in a beckoning motion. She reaches behind herself, picks up the notebook, and smiles at him as she hoofs it over.

“I did it with my field. It didn’t go very fast. I wonder if that can be trained up. I need to get some marbles or rocks or something. Rocks would be better, like slightly larger than gravel.”

“We could just buy a bag of stones at the store if you need a lot. Or dig a bit and you’ll end up with a few rocks here and there. We have good soil around here, but we’ll probably still find some when we’re working on the garden this weekend.”

“That’ll work for now. I’d want a few dozen in different sizes and weights if possible, though. I bet that’s just another thing you can train up.”

“Why would you want to?” she asks.

“Who knows, it may be useful to run up a tree or something. Climb a wall, deflect a thrown object, who knows.”

“You can’t walk up a wall…” she says slowly, “it’s not strong enough.” She ponders for a moment before mumbling, “I think.”

“That’s why you train it.” Cure walks over to the tree and presses his hoof against it. Mentally grabbing as hard as he can he leans pulls away. At first he’s latched on, but once he tries he can pretty easily break the field. He tries again, this time with both front hooves at shoulder width apart. He leans against the tree, then visualizes the two bonding all the way down to the atomic level. He pictures the keratin in his hooves being absolutely fused with the wood and slowly leans back. It takes a bit more force, but he’s still able to pull himself free. He tries again, and instead of putting his hooves at chest height, puts them as high up on the tree as he can reach while standing on his back hooves. This time instead of trying to pull away, he imagines himself being pulled up. He can feel the weight on his forelegs and there’s a decrease in weight on his back legs, but he still can’t quite pull himself off the ground before they come loose.

“Would you mind spotting me?”

“What?”

“I want to see if I can latch onto the tree. Can you kind of hold me up so I can put all four hooves on and see if I can stick?”

“Umm… okay.” Vines moves over, sits on her haunches, wraps her forelegs around her son, and lifts him so he’s facing the tree. “I’m going to have to put a little weight on you, sweetie, so I don’t fall face-first into the tree.”

“That’s fine, dam, I’m going to be focusing. Do me a favor and, when I say okay slowly let me take on my own weight. Maybe put one hoof against the tree as you let go so you can balance yourself?” he suggests.

With a small amount of his dam’s weight on his back for balance and her right foreleg wrapped around his barrel, Cure finds himself pressed against the tree. “Okay, now don’t tell me when you’re letting me take my own weight on. Just gradually cut back how much you’re holding up so that I am slowly taking on my own weight, but don’t say anything. I’m going to be focusing.”

Now with all four hooves pressed against the tree, Cure focuses on anchoring himself again. He feels his dam slowly release his weight, but isn’t paying attention to that. Instead, all focus is directed towards his hooves. Not opening an eye at all and not paying attention to anything else, he softly asks, “Are you holding me?”

“Umm… no. You’re just standing on the tree. How are you standing on the tree, sweetie?”

Cure slowly opens his eyes, all the while maintaining his focus. As soon as he’s able to see he falls right off the tree and lands on his rear with a squawk.

Vines looks down at him with a strained smile, raises an eyebrow, and barely holding in a laugh, asks, “Are you ok, sweetie?”

“Peachy.” he flatly replies. “Good spotting, dam.”

Smiling brightly at her son, Vines replies, “Thanks, son!” She pauses, looking him over with a serious expression for a second, “You’re not hurt are you? You only fell a couple hooves.”

“No, I barely weigh anything, so I’m fine. My butt broke my fall.”

“That’s good,” she nods.

“Uh huh. Well, I don’t know what I weigh, exactly.” Pausing, he looks at Vines for a moment.

She looks back.

“Umm, dam.”

She quickly answers his unasked question. “You weigh about fifty kilograms, maybe a little less.”

“I was going to ask how much you weigh, actually,” he says while waving at her.

“You weigh about fifty kilograms, maybe less,” She says in a clipped response.

“Got it,” he says. After a few moments of quiet he looks at her. She looks back. He stares for another moment, then scowls, “Really, dam? Weight? That’s where we draw the line? I can accidentally see all of dad’s business and it’s laughed off, but you’re too embarrassed to tell me how much you weigh? What… are you like two hundred kilograms?” He immediately has to duck under her hoof, even though she clearly wasn’t trying to actually hit him.

“I’ll have you know I’ve never weighed over a hundred and sixty kilograms in my entire life, little mister!”

Cure looks her up and down slowly, from her hooves to the top of her head and back. Then he leans slightly to the side and slowly looks her over again from front to back. The entire time her scowl is deepening. Finally, he stops and looks at her right in the eyes and slowly raises a single eyebrow.

“Uhhh… huhhhh… riiiiiight.” *cough*

“Colt…”

“So, one six zero kg,” he says, then mutters “roughly” under his breath, “ and I weigh a little under fifty. Well, I don’t think I am going to try holding you against the tree for you to try standing on it…”

“Probably for the best.”

“... but I guess for now we can estimate my … adhesion strength?... to be about thirteen KG per hoof.” He stops. “Actually, probably a bit more than that given my body’s distance from the tree would have acted as a lever.” He sighs again. “I should have laid flat against the tree. More surface area, less leverage against me. I could have just basically hugged it until I got situated then crawled up and wouldn’t have needed you to hold me at all.”

“You can always ask for a hug, honey. You don’t have to come up with overly complicated experiments just to get your dam to hug you.”

“I’ll keep that in mind.” He pauses. Thinking for a moment he looks at his dam, gives her the puppy dog eyes, and spreads his forelegs wide. She smiles beautifully at him, lifts him up, and gives him a big hug and a smooch between the ears, then sets him down. He continues, “I think there’s just so many ideas floating through my head that I think of something, then come up with an immediate way to test it and just roll with that before thinking of a better way. I can’t help but wonder if it’s the whole child brain thing. Kids aren’t the best at planning, after all, and memories or not I am still a little colt.”

Cure finds himself leaning into his dam’s comforting hoof on his withers. Seconds later he’s leaning against her in a side-hug.

“It just occurred to me that we’re heavy.”

“Thanks, son.”

“Not what I mean. What I mean is that, compared to a human, we’re waaaay heavier. We must have way, way more muscle mass. I guess I should have realized when I was scanning dad and myself. I was just focusing on specific things and never just said, “Hey how much muscle is here?” even though I did note how much bigger our lungs are than a human’s. It makes me wonder if wood is different on this planet.” He stops and stares at the tree for a moment. “It looks like a normal maple tree to me. Could the ambient magic levels have made trees more sturdy somehow? My bedframe is only a little thicker than the one Cyndi and I slept in and, between the two of us, we weighed… almost exactly what you do, actually.”

He pauses to hold up his hooves in surrender at her glare. “It’s true. Humans are typically one and a half to a little under two meters tall… but they’re strength comes in tool use, not raw power. In my prime I was pretty far above average for a human and the most I could ever deadlift, which is a specific kind of lifting exercise where you mostly use legs and only go waist high, was about two hundred kg. Ponies are just a lot heavier than humans. We probably needed the muscle at one point… you know, an evolutionary thing from before we could grip stuff with our hooves. Raw power instead of fine manipulation. We just got to keep both somehow.”

Cure writes a few notes down, reminding himself to get a physics book and pay attention to the construction of the house, stairs in particular when he gets home. If his dam weighs about three hundred and fifty pounds then his sire could easily be pushing four hundred. There’s just no way a normal bed could stand up to over a half ton of ponies rolling around in it. Hell, his sire should punch straight through the steps… probably. Quadrupedal motion does spread the weight a bit.

“I’m going to work off the assumption that gravity is roughly the same here as on Earth. We’re about the same size and weight roughly as much as a pony does on Earth. At least, some breeds I think. I never had one. I don’t have a way of checking, either. Have you ever heard of nine point eight meters per second squared?” he asks.

Vines shakes her head in confusion. “It’s so weird to hear you talk out loud about ponies like that.”

“Think of them as animals. It’s what they are. I can call them something else if you want me to. Anyhow, that is the acceleration of an object due to gravity in an atmosphere… which I’m going to, again, have to assume is the same as Earth if I ever try to put hard numbers to any of this mess. Should have gotten a physics book earlier… so many assumptions.”

“I’ve never heard gravity’s pull measured before… but I never had a physics class either.”

“Well, different body so I can’t be sure, but I’ve not noticed any obvious gravity shenanigans other than what flyers do, and I’m not sure if that’s gravity, weight, or some form of air manipulation.” Pausing for a moment, he looks around. “Meh, moving on.” Moving to the base of the tree, Cure looks around in the grass for a moment. Finding what he’s looking for, he picks up a twig just a bit bigger than his hoof and holds it out. He focuses on the two ends of the stick and tries to pull the ends together. It works, the twig bows outwards and snaps as he pinches the ends together, but the force involved is not impressive at all, just barely enough to break the small twig.

Next, he grabs a larger stick about half his body length. He does the pencil trick to hold it to his side and focuses. Holding the two ends, he once again bends them together, but instead of having the bend go outwards away from his body he forces it upwards towards his back while putting pressure on the bend. With more surface area he’s able to easily snap the stick. Repeating the performance with smaller pieces he breaks the stick pieces into half twice more before he can’t go further.

“That… was different.” Vines comments.

“I know, right? Who needs a horn anyhow?” He smiles back at her. Picking up another stick, Cure holds it in his hoof. He imagines his TK field moving down the stick and enveloping it. It… doesn’t work at all. He can extend it a few inches from his body and that’s about it. Answering his own question, he explains, “Well, apparently anypony that wants to use TK without touching something, that’s who. I couldn’t extend my field down the branch, so I guess projecting it doesn’t work. At least, not while using some random stick as a medium. Kind of makes me wonder exactly how a horn works. Hey dam?”

“Hmm?”

“Think we can go foalnap Mr. Binder? I need to borrow his horn to test stuff out.”

“If you’re good, maybe when we go to turn the books back in, honey.”

“Okay. Cool.” Cure looks around a bit to see what materials he has available. “So… I’m curious whether or not I can use the TK field on something in a container, without using it on the container itself. That one may have to wait until we go inside. I’ve never really paid attention while you or Title cook… Do we have a whisk?”

Vines is, once again, bewildered at the sudden apparent subject change. “A whisk?” she asks. “Yes. Your mom used it while making your breakfast bread.”

“French Toast.”

“It wasn’t toasted. It was pan-fried.”

“Argh! Whatever. Watch.” Cure holds out his pencil again while Vines pays attention. Slowly, at first, the pencil begins twirling. As the seconds tick by, the speed increases to the point where, while it’s not a blur or anything, the pencil is spinning faster than he could ever hope to do with fingers. After a few seconds of spinning Cure quickly slows, then stops the pencil and looks at Vines expectantly.

Thinking for a second she hesitantly ask, “So… we can quickly rotate things in our field like a whisk without actually moving our foreleg at all.”

“No. Well, yes, we can, but we may not need to. You use the whisk because it’s faster, easier, and cleaner than using your hoof, but why not just stir or mix with your TK field directly? Hold the mixing bowl with your hooves and extend your field through to the batter, then mix away. Maybe we can make some cookies to try it out. The batter gets pretty dense as you add flour but starts off runny when it’s just the liquid ingredients at the start, so we’ll get a variety of thicknesses.”

“That sounds like a good experiment, son,” she says, smiling at the thought.

“Okay, I think… I only have one other thing on my list of TK tests to try out. I could use a hoof here, too.”

“Okay! What do you want me to do?”

Cure stands in front of his dam and holds his right hoof out to her. “We’ve established that we can pull and move things laterally, now I just want to get some data about pushing. I know we can do it, just kind of dotting i’s and crossing t’s at this point. Put your hoof against mine and use your field to push mine away.”

Vines holds her hoof up and taps it to her son’s. She imagines the bubble growing out of her hoof and pushing his hoof away.

Cure feels the pushing sensation. He tries countering it by pulling her hoof towards him, but it doesn’t seem to help. “Your TK field appears to be stronger than mine. Maybe when mom and dad get home we can see if it's based on anything physical like strength or if it’s just that you’re an adult and it’s based on physical maturity or something. Can you push less hard? I want to see if we can estimate relative strength.”

“Sure thing, sweetie.”

“Very slowly push less until we find the point where we kind of even out, okay?”

Cure continues trying to push into her field, but makes no progress for about a minute. Suddenly, her field gives out completely and they hoof-bump each other.

“I couldn’t really push less… you only got through when I stopped completely,” she answers his unasked question.

“Ah… I bet your TK field extends further than mine. You basically out-range me, so I couldn’t grab your hoof because mine never got close enough for my field to grab on. Okay, so… implications.”

“They don’t cancel each other out?” Vines ask-answers.

“They don’t, do they? Or they didn’t. That’s odd, I would expect them to. They’re opposing forces. They should.”

“We weren’t both pushing, though. You were pulling, but you had nothing to pull on. Did you try to grab my field?” she asks.

“That’s… a really good point. I didn’t even think to try to cancel out your field, I was just trying to grab your hoof. Try again?”

Vines holds out her hoof. “How hard should I push?”

“Start off at full again, if I can touch it I would assume having it at max power would make it the most obvious.”

Pushing again with all her might, Vines waits while Cure holds his hoof out and starts testing their interaction.

“Okay, are you visualizing my field? I am yours and, now that I am, I can definitely “feel” it.”

“Yep, I’m going to wrap my field around yours a little and give it a squeeze instead of just pushing, okay?”

“Sure dam, I’ll let you know what I feel.” He waits while she does so. With her hoof being twice the size of his it’s easy for her to surround his hoof and his TK field with her own and, gently, squeeze his tighter. “Okay, I can feel that. It’s an odd sensation because I can tell you’re applying pressure, but there’s no pain like you’d associate with your leg getting squeezed. Well, there’s not any nerves there, so it makes sense. Can you squeeze tighter so you’re pushing against my fur? You know, without squishing me, preferably?”

“I’ll try.”

Cure can feel his TK field getting squeezed down until, after a few seconds, the pressure is on his leg itself. “Okay, stop there. You’ve completely neutralized my TK field and I can feel a little pressure on my leg. Was that difficult for you at all?”

“Not really, no. I had to squeeze a lot harder but I still feel like that was maybe only about half as hard as I could, give or take.”

“Hmm… I’d like to see just how hard you can go but I don’t want to ask you to potentially hurt me and I’d rather not risk the injury, even if I could probably heal it in a moment anyhow.”

Seeing how visibly uncomfortable with the suggestion Vines is he immediately dismisses the idea. Deed will probably be less squeamish about it, but that doesn’t help right now either way.

Cure waves the idea away with a foreleg. “Yeah, let’s skip that. We don’t have a way to measure grip strength right now anyhow, aside from my shoddy tree experiment. I’d like to get a set of weights and have all of us try to lift objects purely with our TK field both to measure output and to see if it can be trained up through repetition.” Thinking out loud, Cure continues, “It seems strange that I can see other magical auras but I can’t see this TK field at all. Different “frequency” or whatever? Or maybe it’s a completely different mechanic from whatever “magic” is… which, again, would be the same as a different frequency energy field, I suppose.” Sitting and tapping his chin for a moment, he finally says, “Well I think that’s all I have for experiments. Is there anything you can think of?”

“We didn’t test this one on your list,” she says, pointing her hoof to the Shaping bullet.

“Ah… duh. Can we use the field to emulate tools? I would have paid good money to always have a knife and screwdriver on hand. In fact, I did… several times. Those stupid multitools always disappear. I swear Josh was taking them.” Grabbing a leaf off the ground he holds it in his field and focuses. Imagining a hole punch poking a circle in the leaf doesn’t work, it just pushes a hole in the leaf. Visualizing a knife cutting a slice off doesn’t work either. The leaf tears, but it’s not a razor-sharp edge cutting it. “Hmm. It’s almost like it may be possible, but I don’t have the super fine control needed. Ultimately what I feel like I’m doing is just very, very fine manipulation and either I lack the practice or the control or whatever is missing in order to adjust the field in a way to do what I’m trying to. That’s probably a good thing. If bad ponies learned how to do that they’d basically be able to use their TK field like a weapon. A pretty scary weapon when you think about it.”

Vines nods and says, “That would be a little concerning, wouldn’t it? I like to think the best of ponies but somepony would definitely do something bad with that if they could. From seeing your ideas with cutie marks, though, I bet somepony out there can do that if they have a mark for it.”

“Yeah, that’s a thought. I’m glad nopony covers those up and it’s socially acceptable to look at them. Still, that’s something to keep in mind if you ever see somepony with a bladed weapon cutie mark or maybe even a cooking knife or something. Hmm. Any other ideas, dam?”

“What about heating or cooling something?” she asks.

“Huh, I didn’t have that on my list. That’s a really good idea. It might be easier to test at home, though. I assume we do have thermometers at home, right?”

“Of course, sweetie. That’s all I can think of, though.”

“Okay, let me add some notes in and then, how ‘bout we have some snuggle-read time before mom and dad get home?” he asks, smiling up at her.

“That sounds wonderful to me!”

Touch Telekinesis
- Hooves only?
- No, seems to be full-body… or at least, goes up legs, over back, etc.
- Why did I immediately think of sexual applications here? Dirty old man.
- Strength
- Can it increase with training?
  - Mentioned getting weights, will see if mom & dad agree
  - Currently about 13kg/hoof adhesion
- Shaping
- Try a hand, claws, other grasping appendages like a whip
  - Shape is basically a bubble by default. Can fake the different shapes as long as object is within that bubble/field
- Can it be focused into an edge, a point, etc.
  - No, it seems to blunt itself. Maybe with practice or the right MoD?
- Range
- Touch only?
  - Only an inch or two from the body, excluding hair/fur as best I can tell
- Target aspects
- Does it surround the target
  - I.e. the “lifting a plane” problem
  - No, at least with wood it doesn’t. Maybe this works with metals? Precious metals more magically “conductive” ?
- Apply different pressure at different points
  - Yes, broke a stick into pieces
- Does it penetrate the surface at all
  - Will test with a cup or bowl at home
- How does it work on multiple small objects?
  - Yes, may be able to do more w/ practice
  - Like a force field? A hand?
  - More of a force field. Can emulate a hand, sort of
  - Attract / repel?
  - Can do both, threw pencil at a tree with just field. Shouldn’t probably do that to my pencil… only have a few
- Force direction
- Can it spin things?
  - Yes and with right visualization keeps momentum until wind resistance slows.
  - Looks friggin cool
- Do forces have to go all one direction?
  - Obviously not or grabbing wouldn’t work
  - Can you twist parts of an object? Bend it?
  - Yes, snapped stick into pieces
  - Does this impact the force?
  - Seems to be a function of surface area contact
- Can it push instead of pull
  - Yes, also can act like a force-field while pushing
- Impact on physics
- Does it mitigate gravity, mass, etc. at all?
  - Not as far as we could determine
- Can it “soak” into objects?
- FATE reinforcement BS?
- Not wood at least. Maybe metals or precious metals? Gems?
- Wood may be tougher than it was on E. in general. Furniture and stairs aren’t as thick as they should be for our weight.
- Additional suggestion from dam - Alter temperature with it
- Not sure how… visualize atoms vibrating or stilling? Charge or withdraw energy from the mix? Can you even take energy away like that? L. T. does something like that, I think, and so does C. G. but she learns from him.

Author's Note

Pacing will continue to be very slow until we get into a routine. This is intentional. Also, I'm expecting a lot of "seriously? wtf?" complaints. Here. 100% super honest, I see a mechanic and I can only think, "How can I turn that up to 11 and abuse the hell out of it?". This is the result. I'm not opposed to exploring other suggestions too, as long as they're reasonable.

Chapter 10: Talk

Author's Note

Keep in mind this is primarily a SoL story. I haven't written very far out, just a few more chapters, but the pace will probably continue for another 10 to 15 or so before we start getting into time skips. I plan on putting one out every 3-4 days, but they definitely won't always be this long.

Chapter 10: Talk

Wednesday, September 3rd, 908 AB

Deed is just a little ways away from his first wife and son before her ears rotate his direction, followed by her head, eyes, and a bright smile. The colt is entirely too absorbed by his books to notice until Vines starts to get up to greet Deed, but Cure jumps up and joins in the affectionate greetings once she stirs.

Once the nuzzles and smooches are passed around the family lays back under the tree, Vines on the left, their son sandwiched in the middle, and Deed taking the right. "So, been busy, I see," he says, looking over the books and the sprawled open notebook, "whatcha been up to all day?"

"Well first we went to the library, then the grocery. I got talked down to by a really helpful unicorn supremacist, then convinced dam to buy us all some tuna," Cure rattles off as Vines' eyes begin to widen. Before she can get a word in he continues, "next she made me run all the way home to the point I was nearly falling over, then I explained how the princess is just a big unicorn that makes ponies grovel before her huge horn. Well dam didn't agree with that so after I fled outside she took my notebook away, ran around the yard like a crazy pony, and slammed me into the tree after I asked how much she weighs," he points at the alleged tree victim, "and then made me do all kinds of tests and pushed me around. Fortunately I was able to talk her out of beating me with a stick, barely, though we do need to dispose of some grass with my blood on it. I'm so glad you're here to save me from her tyranny." he finishes with a beaming smile up at his father.

Nodding along the whole time Deed smiles back down at his son as he finishes his story. "Wow, sounds like you had a busy day, sport. I can't say I recommend asking about a mare's weight, though. That'll earn you a good whack on the best of days." Pausing, Deed tilts his head to the side and finishes with, "oh yeah, you just maaay wanna be a little careful with the whole sedition" he adds in hoof air-quotes "thing too. Maybe."

Vines leans down and gives Cure's ear another bite while growling, "Slammed you into a tree? Ran around like I'm crazy? Colt I never even considered beating you with a stick… before now." Releasing his ear she smiles innocently back at Deed, who was, coincidentally, looking away and whistling for the last few seconds. "So how was your day, honey? Did our troublesome son's ideas help you today?"

Lighting up Deed turns and wraps his forelegs around his son, "Like you wouldn't believe! Colt, I'll tell you what, if your dam can't stop abusing you at home you just come into work with Title and me and see what a difference your suggestion has made!" He sets Cure down and ignores the daggers Vines is staring at him.

After planting a big kiss between Cure's ears he continues, "I'll let Title tell you about her day, but I swear it was like a switch in my head flipped when I started running magic through my cutie marks. You were spot on with your guess this morning. The right words just came to me. I knew just what to say to the homeowners that came in looking for a real estate pony. In one day I got half a dozen homes newly listed. Title herself even pointed out how much more organized and efficient my work was, too. I’m going to be honest, here son… staying organized just isn’t a strength for me normally. The highlight of the day was the sale I made just before I came home. Title is busy drawing up the closing paperwork for everypony to sign tomorrow morning, so she'll be home soon. Son," he pauses to put his hoof on Cure's withers. Cure meets his sire's eyes and can almost feel the pride and gratitude radiating off of him, "I'm not sure I can rightly put into words how much this will change our lives for the better."

Deed pauses to let out a deep breath before steeling himself to continue. "You're smarter than any young colt could probably be and with all your knowledge and experience from before, I have no doubt you put two and two together pretty quick, so I'll just come right out and say it. Your dam and I were too young to have foals when we found out that you were on the way… but we loved, and still love, each other very much. The first few years, especially, were not easy. We didn't starve or anything but … there was not much left in the budget each month, let's just say that."

Deed wipes his face with a fetlock while Vines moves over and leans against him. "Now I certainly don't want to make it sound like any of that was because of you or that we've regretted any part of it for even a second, but you're mature enough to understand all that," he gets a small nod from Cure and continues, "My point is that we struggled for years and held off on giving you any brothers and sisters until we knew we could do better. Things didn’t start improving much until Title and I started working together, and we just all clicked so well we could finally think about growing our family,” he says with a big smile.

“Title taking over the office while I took over the talking part of the job helped a lot, but today? In one day I had as much success in my work as I could hope for in a month. I represented twenty seven families buying or selling their homes last year. Those six new clients would normally take me weeks to find. Ponies usually meet with at least three or four agents before they pick the one to represent them. Everypony that walked in my door today walked out a client. I was on fire today and I can feel it's just the start!" Deed was sitting up fully now looking off into the distance.

Cure was pretty sure his sire actually was glowing a little. He certainly looked ready to take on the world. Cure took a step closer, reared back, and held his forelegs wide for a hug. Deed scooped him up and held him to his chest, rocking back and forth.

"I totally understand, dad,” Cure says into his father’s chest. “When I met Cyndi she already had Kynzie and Josh from her ex. I had saved enough that we could get a house, but just barely." He pauses as he’s set back down. "Well we both worked and got by, but we had the same problem. She had her kids young. I was two years younger than her. We were so busy with work and the kids we knew adding a baby just wouldn't go well. Eventually, Cyndi started having problems. She'd be in pain, especially after… you know… and then she started bleeding. Just bleeding all the time. Human women don't go into estrus, they menstruate on a monthly cycle, so they normally only bleed a few days when the cycle restarts." Cure is amused at the grossed out faces of his parents. "Yeah, it grosses out humans just as much. Anyhow, the long and the short of it is that after trying a hundred different things and Cyndi just suffering for years she ended up having to get a hysterectomy. Kids were no longer an option, so I redoubled my commitment to the two she already had." Letting out a deep sigh, Cure finishes, "I know exactly what it's like to have kids too early and I also know what it’s like to wait, so take an old man's advice and don't wait any longer. There will never be a perfect time, but there's definitely too late."

"That's good advice, son. We'll be sure to get in lots of practice before spring rolls around."

Cure’s ears pin back automatically at the thought. "Gross. I wonder if I can turn off my ears at night." Cure shakes the thought out of his head. "Look, I told Title this the other day and I want to be clear with both of you as well, the best way I can think to deal with this," he waves at his mark, "is to keep anything medical or health related completely and totally professional. That means no teasing, joking, making fun, sarcasm, or anything else. Understand?" he asks, meeting his dam’s and sire’s eyes.

"Yeah… that sounds like the mature thing to do. Where are you going with this, son?" Deed asks.

"Well, when the time comes if you want another colt or a filly specifically I suspect that's something I can affect. In mammals it's the father that contributes either the X chromosome, resulting in a female, or the Y chromosome for a male. I can't do anything after conception… or, if I can I’m pretty sure I wouldn’t… but well, before the act, I can more than likely either force your body to only produce viable X or Y sperm so there's only really one or the other present when you have at it."

Vines is aware of Title wanting a colt, so Cure has her full attention.

"Son… you do realize that tons of families have foal after foal just trying to get one colt, don't you?" Deed asks. At Cure's nod he continues, "it's not the case with Title and I; we all just fell in love, but if I was looking for another mare the fact my only foal is a colt would attract a lot of attention from well-to-do families with too many mares to marry off. I can't tell you how many mares were asking me just to stud for them after you were born."

"What? Really? That's a thing?"

"It is, sweetie. It's a pretty important job for the whole country. There's simply not enough stallions and so many mares end up asking friends for help. There wouldn't be enough foals born for the country to survive without them. I thought it was a good idea but your father said he didn't want to go through the whole licensing process, and we didn’t personally know any of these mares so we had no way of knowing if they could provide for a foal. I understand it to be a little unpleasant to get a professional license," Vines answered. With a small smile she points out, "though earth ponies, especially, are in very high demand each season."

"That's right son, though you don't need to worry about anymare grabbing you off the street and having her wicked way with you for at least another five or six years,” Deed jokes.

Vines whacks Deed on the shoulder and waves a hoof at him growling, "Don't you go perpetuating that silly myth! You know that doesn't happen at all." Turning back to Cure she assures him, "That's just a dumb joke stallions like to make. Mares don't turn into stallion-hungry crazies or anything else like that. We just get that needy feeling and maybe inhibitions go down a tad, honey. Nopony will grab you off the street, but it's not unusual for a mare to approach a stallion she thinks will give her a healthy foal if she's single or in a mare-only relationship… or if her stallion has a medical problem. That's perfectly acceptable and you can always say no."

"Humans have an actual part of the government that forces absent parents to provide financial support for children when parents separate or just are never actually together. Does that exist here too?"

"Sure does, son. RFSOA. The Royal Foal Support Order Administration or "rafsau". They manage all that stuff, but foals from an official studding agreement are exempt. Mares have to go through a bit of pre-screening and paperwork to get approved to hire a professional stud, but there's forms by the hooffull at every city hall in the country for the normal studding requests from friends. The mare and the stud just go down and sign the form in front of an official and they're all set. He's off the hook and there's an official copy in the records if something comes up later. It's rare, but sadly some mares have tried to get money from studs if they're well off.”

"That's true and is quite the black mark on the mare and her family if it's found out. The last thing anypony wants to see is stallions refusing to stud en masse. The government will come down hard on mares abusing the situation," Vines adds.

“It’s so weird to me. It makes sense, but this is sooo different from Earth whereas most other stuff has been very similar. I mean, the polygamy is a bit unusual, but it’s not unheard of on Earth.” Shrugging, Cure continues, “I guess it’s just strange to me that a mammal species has so many more females than males… but it sounds like there’s an effective system in place to make up for the deficit, so whatever."

Cure thinks for a second and runs the whole situation through his mind a few times. "I've got another question… say a stallion did stud for some mares around here… how would somepony like me know, like fifteen or twenty years later, that some mare I meet isn't my half sister?” he asks with a cringe. “I can't imagine everypony walks around with a copy of their family tree on them to compare with somepony they want to jump in bed with… and do studs' foals know who their sire is?"

"The smell," Deed answers immediately. "You don't have any siblings so you haven't realized it yet but when you do meet somepony and they have a scent about them that puts you off you'll know something isn't right. Don't ignore that feeling. That's how you can tell that's not a potential mate. Trust me, you'll know it when you smell it."

"It's that noticeable?" Cure asks.

"It really is, sweetie. Sometimes you'll meet a mare and just know, like your sire says. It is a massive and immediate turn off. It'll be something you notice when you start to hit puberty. You'll know right away and your body will react quite strongly," Vines agreed.

"Huh… weird. Humans have a very weak sense of smell, so I guess that's just something I'll have to learn. Hey, earlier you said that earth ponies are in high demand… is there a difference in fertility rates or something? Do pegasus and unicorn stallions have a more difficult time impregnating a mare?”

Snickering, Deed leans over to Vines and says, “You could say that. Hey, honey, tell our son why everypony wants an earth pony.”

With red-tinted ears Vines looks away and mumbles something under her breath.

Cure looks at his father with a raised eyebrow.

“What was that, honey? I don’t think the colt heard you,” he says as he pokes her with his snout while smiling broadly.

Now glowing even redder she shifts her hooves back and forth a little and softly says, “size”.

“HAHAHA! You tell em babe!” Deed shouts. “Ya see son, earth ponies are a lot bigger than unicorns and, especially, pegasus, right?” He says while wagging his eyebrows.

“I think I see where this is going. Yes, father…” Cure flatly replies.

“Well, my boy, imagine, if you can, a unicorn standing here between me and yer dam. About how tall do you think that unicorn is, hmm?”

“Well the one we met at the library was about a half hoof shorter than dam…”

“Right, and that there’s about as tall as they normally get. Now imagine a pegasus standin here between us. How tall?”

“Heavy’s mom, Spring Showers… she’s probably about another hoof and a half shorter.”

“Yep, mares are usually a tad shorter than stallions. Well to sum it all up, son, a unicorn is going to be a little awkwardly short to be studding with an earth pony mare and, as you can imagine, a pegasus stallion is going to be about one and a half to two hooves shorter than an average earth pony mare. You do the math, son.”

“So basically you’re saying the sex is going to be awkward because the mare’s going to be so much taller than the stallion.”

“Not just taller, colt. Hey you see that maple seed on the ground behind ya?” Cure turns around and picks up the helicopter seed and holds it up. Deed turns sideways and stomps a hole in the ground just beside and a bit behind himself, then looks back to Cure. “Alright, son, now go ahead and put that seed in the ground over here.”

Confused as hell, Cure starts to take a step forward before Deed sticks his hoof out and stops him. Baffled, he looks up at his father. “I didn’t say you could walk any closer. Go ahead and put the seed in the hole from there,” he says while smiling.

“Umm… I can’t reach it. Maybe I could” Deed waves his hoof before Cure can get the thought off.

“What was that first part?” Deed asks while leaning forward.

Cure really doesn’t want to answer, but does anyhow. With a put upon sigh he finally says, “I can’t reach it, dad.”

“Well. Maybe if your leg was longer you could, but I guess that seed just isn’t meant to go in the hole, is it?” he asks while laughing and poking at the colt. “Now you know how all them unicorns and pegasus feel when they jump on an earth pony mare! HAHAHA!”

“CLEAN DEED!” Vines whacks him across the shoulder a few times while yelling at him.

“The boy needs to know, Vines. He ain’t some ignorant colt, he knows what’s what!”

“Oh my Celestia,” Vines mutters as she covers her face with her fetlocks. Cure glances at her for a second just to note that she’s almost glowing crimson. Weird that she could go from green to red. That can’t possibly be natural. Some kind of aura thing?

Drawing Cure’s attention back to himself, Deed continues, “Now, the problem goes both ways, son. You see, take a small space in our house like the closet, okay?”

“Uhh… yeah?”

“Now, imagine somepony’s told yer pa to go ahead and stand inside of that closet.” He starts marching in place with all four hooves, then stops, miming being in a small box “I’m supposed to go in there and be able to move around. How well do ya think that would go?”

“Not well, I’d reckon.”

“Nope. Too big a pony in too small a room isn’t fun for anyone. Right uncomfortable, it is, even without trying to move around too much. Heck, if the doorways are too small maybe a big strong earth pony like yer pa can’t even get in the closet in the first place. The doorway’s just too narrow for my wide, muscular frame, ya see.” Deed flexes his chest.

“Oh my God…” Cure mumbles.

“That’s right son, you got it now. Now just keep in mind that if the door’s too small and the homeowner is insisting a pony go in the closet anyhow then that pony may just get wedged in the doorway, and if they’re really insistent and push too hard… well, door frames break before ponies do, son. And nopony wants to see a broken door frame.”

Deed leans down so his muzzle is right above Cure’s ears. He very slowly says to his son, “Just keep that in mind, young colt. If some pretty pegasus mare flutters her ‘lil feathers at you, ya gotta be reeeeeeeeeeeeal careful when you decide you wanna go see what she keeps in that closet. Okay? You may need to get a little oil for the ‘ol coat, ya know…” he says, sliding a hoof over his shoulder all smooth-like, “it helps ya get yer shoulders in the door… otherwise maybe the best you can really do is, well… “ leaning down he lowers his head so it’s barely off the ground and slowly moves it forward, then makes a point of moving his eyes around searchingly, “poke yer head in and take a peek. And if yer tryin to put that maple seed on the shelf aaalllllll the way in the back of the closet, ya gotta be able to fit in more than just yer head, son.” He leans back up and smiles at his son, then winks.

“Dad… dude. You’re as subtle as a brick to the face, you know that?” Cure glances at his dam again and can’t hold back a snort. She’s standing there, eyes big as saucers, jaw hanging open, red as a stop sign from eartips to hooves. Is that smoke or steam coming out of her mane? He makes note that the grass under her is actually wilting a little bit… so probably steam.

I should probably go get her some water to rehydrate. Also, maybe her theory about being able to change temperature with the TK aura was true after all. I should add a note.

Looking at his notebook for a second, Cure misses the moment when Vines full-body tackles Deed. Rolling on the ground laughing himself silly, Deed barely manages to get out a “see, son! She can’t get enough of me! Even out in public she’s all over yer pa! This ain’t nothin, though, just you wait till spring! Stars have mercy!” while he’s defending himself from the onslaught of jabs and punches, all the while she’s yelling different versions of “I can’t believe you” and “He’s barely eight years old” and so forth.

Shaking his head, Cure wanders back over to his notebook and the library books and settles back down. He glances at the anatomy book and decides to forego that one for now.

I sure as hell don’t need to have some picture of a nutsack opened up when dam comes back over here. I don’t want her removing dad’s for corrupting her baby or anything.

After a few minutes of roughhousing Deed and Vines resume their previous positions on either side of their colt. Deed is still smiling broadly, so apparently he’s no worse for wear. Vines’ coat and mane have returned to their normal dark green and yellow respectively… mostly. Her ears still have a bit of a pink hue to them and they’re folded back a bit more than normal. She’s obviously mortified and can’t even look in his direction, but Cure isn’t sure why. His dad definitely went a bit overboard, but he could admit that he would have cracked up if that had come out of anypony else’s mouth.

“Cure, before your dam got all abusive… which seems to be happening a lot these days…” he ignores her tail when it swats him, “you had mentioned maybe being able to make it so a stallion can only produce one sex or the other. Now I’m sure you’ve considered some of the implications if it turns out you can do that, but I want you to keep that little tidbit under wraps for… well, first until we know if you’re right, then we’ll go from there. So, a year or two? Now I’m not saying anypony would do anything, but…” he rolls his hoof in a “and so…” motion.

“Somepony would probably do something, huh?”

Grimacing a bit, Deed hesitantly nods. “Honestly son, if half the stuff you think you can do pans out, and I have no reason to doubt you can do anything you set that big ‘ol brain to, then you might as well go ahead and give yerself wings and a horn because … wait… you can’t give yourself wings and a horn can you? Don’t do that, son!” Both Vines and Deed suddenly have mini-panic attacks.

“Wasn’t planning on it, pa. I might as well walk right into the throneroom and declare myself King Sombra’s son, come to take revenge on behalf of my father.”

Breathing a sigh of relief both parents settle back down and lean in to sandwich their son again. “Yeah, that would not go so well for ya. You do not mess with powers like that lightly, colt. There tends to be a price, and you’d never have a normal day in your life again.” He blows out another big sigh then continues, “Whew. Anyway, what was I saying,” he pauses to tap at his chin for a moment, “Oh, right! There’s some bad ponies out there in the world and who knows what they’d do if they got their hooves on ya.”

“I get what you’re saying, dad. I don’t want to alarm you or anything, but keep in mind that I have the memories of almost fifty years of life on a planet that, in the last hundred and twenty years, saw more deaths in war alone than there probably are intelligent lives on this entire planet. There were nearly eight billion humans alive when I died and we lived in an unparalleled age of information freedom. I’ve been exposed to anything you can ever imagine. I know what evil looks like and what horrors an individual can commit, and I’ve seen what happens when that boil isn’t lanced early. I just don’t think a normal pony can think like I do, so if someone ever tries to take me away and make me do something I don’t want to… well, you’ll be saving them from me if you show up, not the other way around.”

“Is it weird that hearing that in a young colt's voice is somehow scarier than an adult’s would be?” Vines wonders out loud.

“Is the dichotomy of hearing the promise of violence in a voice you associate with innocence, dam. The brain spends more time processing everything because the words and the voice are such polar opposites. The difference between what’s said and what the brain expects to hear causes it to be more jarring than it would otherwise. It would be like a cute fuzzy little rabbit hopping out from behind the tree and bearing fangs as big as your hooves at you. The combination makes your brain scream “that isn’t right!” and instead of thinking, “it’s still just a little rabbit, big teeth or not” your flight response kicks up to eleven without you even thinking about it.”

Deed nods in agreement. “Yeah, that sounds about right, son.”

The three ponies are still bunched up when Title arrives a few minutes later. Vines and Cure have gotten back to reading and Deed is just laying there enjoying the quiet company. Getting a nuzzle from Vines and a greeting from everypony, she lays facing Cure, beaming a huge smile at him.

"So," he begins, "from the furious look on your face I'm assuming that using your marks at work caused the whole town to go up in flames and the entirety of the Equestrian armed services have wanted posters with my picture on them already?"

"Close!" she exclaims. "If by the whole town going up in flames you mean it worked like a charm and by the rest you mean a certain somepony's getting extra presents on his cute-ceañera then you're spot on!"

"Cute what?"

"Your cute-ceañera, ya goof. We're inviting all your little friends and classmates, and you're getting anything you want for it!" she answers.

The cute-ceañera is roughly equivalent to a human's highschool graduation party, and is NOT only for fillies, much to Cure's dismay. Ponies don't typically celebrate birthdays much beyond having something small with immediate family. Basically all pony births happen in January or in June, since estrus hits like a hammer around March/April, then some mares get a second round in September if they didn’t get knocked up earlier.

Wonder what the ponified names are that they named months and days after. I don't even care to look into it, one less thing for me to accidentally blurt out that doesn’t belong and would draw attention.

"You're not breaking the bank over this," he responds flatly. "We literally just had this conversation. You," he points at her, "are carrying my little brother or sister and until you can both see some actual realization from the deals you and dad have in the works we," he waves indiscriminately to everyone, "are maintaining our livelihood as is," he says with finality and a stern nod.

Softening his look at her pout he holds up a hoof and adds, "I get it, I really do understand the cultural significance of getting your mark… add in that I'm the first born and a male and I assume that makes it a little bit bigger deal, but still, I'll not see anypony going without so I can have some big shindig, especially with a foal on the way. We can do something small, though."

"No fun at all…" she mumbles, scraping her hoof in a circle on the ground.

"That may be partially my fault, honey. We'd just finished talking about having foals and having to wait and everything right before you got here," Deed explains. "Now don't go scowling at me, the colt is smarter than anypony you or I know. He had it all figured out before I flapped my gums once." Putting a foreleg around Cure and pulling him close, Deed continues, "Besides, he had something similar happen before, so you're welcome to try but I don't think he'll change his mind without a fight."

"Yep. I've got everything I need already. Got my folks, got my books, got my health, and I've got a sibling coming next year. I'm good. If you want to have a small get together I'm in. Emphasis on small.” Cure holds his hooves slightly apart to demonstrate the approximate party size. “Again, I acknowledge that it's as much for the family as a whole so I'm fine with that. Which of you three manages the budget?" he asks.

"Me," Title answers, suddenly concerned at the colt's attention.

"Do you know much about investment planning?"

"Uhh…" she stammers.

"That sounds like a no. I need to learn how money works in this world. There are publicly traded companies, right?" At their bewildered stare he clarified, "Is there a stock exchange somewhere like Manehattan? Companies incorporate, their total value is calculated, then divided into shares and sold on the exchange to raise capital… is this sounding familiar?"

Title has a look of comprehension. "Yep, there's a stock exchange and you're right, it's in Manehattan. The stories you read about this world covered corporate funding methods? That sounds boring."

Cure nodded, "Yeah, that does sound incredibly boring, so no, I don't know if any stories that go over that in detail, thank goodness. There’s a city on Earth called New York. It has one of the bigger stock exchanges and Manehattan happens to be the rough pony equivalent to that city. Nopony writes about boring topics like money, finance, taxes, etc. Any author with half a brain would skip that so the audience doesn't lose interest."

Title scratches at her chin with her hoof while thinking out loud, "I dunno, maybe if it were done right and they didn't get too long in the details… and as long as it made sense in context."

Vines nods a little hesitantly, "Maybe you would enjoy that but not me. You're the type of detail oriented mare that could enjoy reading a recipe book or something."

Title smiles and nods, "Only because I’m hungry all the time anymore! Hey now that you mention it, Cure we should talk about that French toast recipe you had me whip up. That was delicious! How'd that go again?"

Cure starts to answer, pauses for a second, then says, "meh, I'll write it down later. Don't think I didn't notice you changed the subject. I don't know enough about retirement planning and investing, so we should look over the budget at some point and see if we can find a pony that specializes in that. Maybe we can bring somepony in on the whole mark thing if we can trust them enough."

At the lull in conversation Cure looks down at his open notebook. He grabs the pencil in his TK field and slides it up under his foreleg where nopony can see. He keeps it moving backwards until it's on his right flank just a bit above his mark. "So… we found a neat trick today. Wanna see?"

Deed and Title both perk their ears up and watch him with a "sure" and "you bet".

Standing, Cure walks past them and says, "Okay. Watch close… but first I need to find my pencil." Making a show of it, he walks to the tree keeping his right flank and the pencil facing them and looks around the ground. "I coulda swore I had it here." He stops once he hears them snickering behind him. Shooting them a confused look he asks, "what's so funny?"

Title starts giggling and points her hoof at his flank, "ya got something on yer flank, Cure."

Turning his right flank away he faces them head on while moving the pencil forwards and up to the pit behind his left foreleg. "Huh?" he mutters, still looking confused. Turning his right side back with no pencil in sight he looks at his mark, then looks back to Title. "Duh mom, we just talked about my cute-ceañera. Now, have you seen my pencil or not?" With them looking at his right flank he moves the pencil back down his belly, this time stopping on his left butt cheek. Once it's there he slowly turns a full 360. "I know I had it out here somewhere."

Vines is full on laughing at this point and it's taking all of Cure's willpower not to crack up when he faces back to a completely baffled Deed and Title.

"I just saw it on his butt!" She yells.

Moving the pencil to his belly where it's out of their line of sight he stares at them both and slowly does a 180 and looks over his withers. "What? On my butt? I don't feel anything on my butt."

"Am I seeing things?" Title asks Deed.

"If you are then so am I. I swear he had it on his left flank, then his rear."

With a deadpan expression he faces them, head held high and turned slightly to his left while moving the pencil behind his left leg and onto his withers. "If you're not going to help me find it you can at least stop being silly," he starts as he moves the pencil up his mane so it slowly pokes up between his ears. "Really, I'm the child here and you're both acting very immature having me spin in place," he continues as the pencil comes up over to his forehead, "looking like some kinda loon," the pencil gets into position and begins raising up so it's poking out his mane like a unicorn’s horn. Two sets of eyes are following its every move while Vines is rolling on the ground laughing her flanks off as he keeps going, "I mean, seriously I expect better than that from both of you. Now are you going to help me find the dumb thing or not?" he finishes, scowling at them.

Mouths hanging open both ponies look at his pencil-horn standing proudly in defiance of reason. Next they look at Vines, still laughing her head off and rolling around, then they finally look at each other.

"What the heck is going on here?" Title finally asks, waving a hoof at Cure's horn.

Deed shrugs and says, "Not the most useful horn I've ever seen but at least you can write with it."

Cure smiles at them and answers, "I figured out how to become a pencilcorn."

"That was bad." Title notes.

"Yeah, son, always quit while you're ahead."

"Meh, everypony's a critic." Cure says as he has the pencil flow down his head, neck, and foreleg until he's holding it in his hoof. "So I noticed everypony at the grocery carrying stuff on their backs and dropping nothing. We did some experiments when we got home," he says while walking to the tree, "and it turns out you can do the hoof grabby thing without using your hoof." Turning, he sits upright against the tree and has his entire side from rear to chin latch on. With the much larger surface area and his body's weight being directly against the tree he can hold himself up enough to have all four legs folded under him in a vertical ponyloaf position with only his tail dangling down to the ground. He hangs there for a few seconds, then, keeping his neck still holding on, turns his head slightly and looks at his parents. "Questions?" he asks.

Title quickly nods, Deed nods a bit slower. Vines strolls over, looks him up and down, then leans down and blows a raspberry right on his belly. Squawking as he falls on his rear again, he rolls, comes to a stop on his side, and looks up with a scowl. “That’s twice today, dam! Are you trying to break my rear or something?”

With a happy smile she looks down at her son. “I’m sorry sweetie. I just saw a big ripe fruit hanging off the tree and just had to take a bite. You know how us,” she says as she does hoof air quotes and emphasizes, “heavy girls are with food around. We just can’t resist it.”

Sighing while standing up, he finally nods to her, “Yeah… I can see how that would be a real struggle for ya.”

“Colt…” she growls while huffing out her nose like an angry bull.

Deed lets a snort slip out before Vines’ head snaps his direction. He points at Title with a “wasn’t me” and takes a step back. Looking over the mares he now finds himself receiving two nasty looks, to which he just shrugs and smiles innocently.

“My dam’s perfect weight and, no doubt, exquisite physique aside,” Cure offers, “how about you look over the notes and get an idea of what all we figured out and we’ll go from there. Also, I don’t know about you all, but I’m starting to get hungry.”

Vines sighs and looks at the sun. “Yeah, it’s about that time, isn’t it? I’ll go get started on dinner,” Vines says as she grabs her book and heads for the house.

“Oh! Hey mom, dam says you’ve been getting cravings for some fish, is that right?”

“Yep. Already getting a hankerin for lots of things. I’ve had fish before, but normally I wouldn’t touch it. Now I feel like I’m ready to go hang out by the waterfall and catch fish jumpin up it right out of the air.”

“I’d actually get a kick out of seeing that, but if you’d like I cooked fish before, so if you like it spicy or crispy or just with some lemon, salt, and butter I do remember a few recipes. I wouldn’t mind having some myself, just to see how it is with different taste buds. I don’t think dam has ever cooked fish for me before,” he offers as he starts picking up his books. Deed comes over to help gather and carry everything while they chat.

Salivating a little, Title tilts her head as they start heading to the house together. “Mmm… spicy sounds good, just don’t overdo it. Nopony wants preggo farts all night.”

“Ain’t that the truth,” Deed mutters.

“No problem. They’re small filets so they don’t take long. I just need some foil, seasoning, and some butter and we can toss it in the oven for about ten minutes. I’ve been looking forward to it since we went to the store,” Cure says, now salivating a bit himself.

Together they head into the house. Deed and Title each make a beeline for the bathroom to complete their delayed after-work rituals while Cure heads to the kitchen to help his dam where possible. To his dismay, aluminum foil is not yet widely used in Equestria, though tinfoil is present. Instead of wrapping the fish in that he opts to use a small, covered dish to keep the moisture in, and does the prep work at the table before passing it off to Vines to get in and out of the oven.

While she’s prepping the veggies and cutting up everything for the salads he starts doing an inventory to make sure they have everything for the cookies he had suggested they make earlier. With a little help from his dam he starts gathering all of the ingredients off to the side out of her way. Since they apparently lack chocolate chips he goes for snickerdoodles instead.

Cure finds that using his TK to mix the dry ingredients through the bowl works, so he marks the “in a container” line a “sort of” success in his notebook, though he can’t quite reach all the way to the middle of the bowl without cramming his hoof in there, which, since he’s not a barbarian, he does not do. He figures that the trick would work great on drinks or even for tasks like kneading bread, but it won’t replace a whisk for stirring chunky stuff or thicker liquids, not without taking a lot longer to eventually “catch” everything, even if it is great for smushing softened butter down, which always gets stuck in the whisk thongs otherwise.

Apparently the best method is to use a combo of the traditional whisk along with the TK to fill in when it gets jammed with thicker dough, then using TK to fold and knead once enough flour is added in.

There’s a few spots where extending the TK field to max really helps. One is when working with hotter objects. By using the TK field like oven mitts (which ponies do have, thus they subconsciously do the whole “penetrate a layer” TK thing anyhow) there’s a whole lot less “put them on, move something, take them off, repeat” going on, so Vines is very happy with the successes, even if it’s not a complete game-changer.

The other is when cooking meat. Cure again laments the lack of TK as a human when he thinks of his poor hands after prepping burgers.

Good God I had to wash my hands like four or five times if Cyndi wasn’t around to help out. Add in any other meat I was cooking at the time, like bacon strips, then when actually cleaning the dishes afterwards and I swear I would wash my hands ten times per meal. That sucked during winter.

Cure’s convinced he could work out a better solution eventually, but the food is almost ready and the first dozen cookie balls have been rolled in the sugar/cinnamon coating and are ready to go in the oven, so he hoofs everything over to Vines and starts resealing packages. While he’s at it he notes that the pantry lacks the enchantments that he saw at the store earlier.

I knew I should have gotten that damn rune book. Here I am damn near popping wood over the idea of doing magic and I say “maybe later” to a horn-free source like that. You’d think I didn’t see a single episode of Naruto when Josh went through that annoying scream ninja phase. I need me some sealing scrolls. Idiot! Well it’s not like I don’t have a million other things to worry about, in my defense. I swear if that’s a programming language I’m going to cream myself, pre-puberty or not. It almost has to be, in a way, or you could never get predictable results… and what kind of system can’t get repeatable outputs from identical inputs?

Interrupting his pondering, Title and Deed rejoin them to set the table and get drinks for everypony.

Vines gets the fish out of the oven and tosses the first sheet of cookies in while setting a timer for ten minutes. Dinner is quiet since most of the “daily updates” already happened outside and everypony is focused on their food. Title did inquire about the piece of bloody grass they had first cooked (to destroy the blood), then threw down the sink. “Your dam said you did something but wouldn’t say what.”

“OH! I had almost forgotten. I figured out how to convert chlorophyll into blood. Or at least, I figured out that I can on a small scale. Dam said something about doing it with the fruit she takes to the market. I’m not sure why, it was probably something about how those creepy vampony bats will finally have a reliable food source or whatever.” Three things happened simultaneously. First, Vines did the mother of all spittakes, blasting (fortunately) water across the entire table. Second, Deed flat out fell sideways off his chair while recoiling away from the table. Finally, Title dropped her fork straight off her hoof and it landed in her fish filet like a lawn dart. A few pieces of lettuce also fell out of her hanging-open mouth… which was kinda gross, what with the saliva and all coming with it. Covering his food as best he can from the particulate hanging in the air, Cure just carries on, “Gross. Jeez, what’s with all you silly ponies and your over-reactions? I’m joking. I did experiment on a piece of grass, though. Are there actually bat ponies? They only showed up in some of those stories. Sometimes they were called thestrals.”

Deed sits back in his chair while Vines wipes her muzzle, shooting an angry glare at Cure the whole time.

“Son… maybe wait until our dam’s not taking a drink?” Deed asks.

“That may be for the best, huh? Thanks for the cooling mist, by the way. Very refreshing.”

After closing her mouth and, sheepishly, re-eating the half-chewed food that had fallen out, Title answers, “There are bat ponies. There’s very few of them, though. You don’t see them often because they’re nocturnal, but there’s several stationed at the guard barracks in Baltimare and other major cities. They do patrols at night and keep ponies safe while we’re sleeping. I’ve never heard the term thestral before.”

“Huh. Neat. I read some stories where they preferred “thestral” over “bat pony”, but I never really got why “bat pony” would have been offensive when “earth pony” isn’t. They have actual membranous wings like a bat… it’s not like we’re made out of rocks.”

Deed flexes his forelegs and loudly proclaims, “Speak for yourself, son. Pure chocolate granite over here, leaves the mares mouths’ watering with just a peek.”

Everypony completely ignores him and, with a pout and a “y'all’re just jealous”, he deflates and resumes eating.

Cure smiles at Title as she tentatively cuts off a piece of the fish and takes a bite. Her face lights up with a “mmm” and the poor fish disappears quickly thereafter. Cure himself tries some and, while it’s good, he’s kind of surprised to find that it really is just good… not nearly as mind-blowing as the fruits and vegetables he’s gotten used to. Also, there’s a lot less heat to it than he prefers since he didn’t want to upset Title’s gut.

Well, I guess that’s a good thing in the long run. If I still got a hankerin for meat all the time I’d probably get some weird looks at best and be shunned a bit at worst. Plus getting the trots isn’t worth it at all. I guess I’ll stick to tofu and rice once I start … well, it isn’t beefing up now, is it? Screw it, once I start beefing up a bit.

Cure offers the other half of his fish to Title, which she gratefully accepts as he explains, “I mentioned it to dam earlier, but if you get cravings for anything weird you should speak up. That’s your body telling you there’s a deficiency somewhere that it’s urging you to fill… usually. You’re not going to convince us that the foal is demanding a pint of ice cream every night,” to which she mock-pouts, “or anything, but you’ll probably need some extra protein, especially while the foal is growing fast during the third trimester.”

“Ooh, yeah, honey, let us know what you need.” Waving a hoof at his other wife he continues, “Vines would wake me up in the middle of the night to go fetch stuff for her all the time. You’ll get no complaints from me aside from maybe a grumble at the time, but I’m happy to do it. You’re doing all the hard work, after all,” Deed says with a nod.

Plates are getting close to being cleared when the timer goes off, so Vines jumps up and gets the first tray out of the oven while tossing the next in and setting the timer again. She quickly scoops the cookies onto the cooling rack, noting how much easier it is to do with her TK field than a spatula. Oh goodie! No more mushed edges where the spatula can’t get under them! she thinks while almost dancing in place.

Cure watches her wiggling in joy and smiles at the adorableness once again. Start squeaking again, dam! It’s cute as all get out!

Vines brings the cooling rack over to the table with her and has to immediately smack Deed’s hoof away. At his pouty whimper she explains, “They’re still hot, ya big goof. You’ll burn your mouth.”

Everypony finishes dinner and enjoys a couple cookies each.

“Those were some pretty good cookies, sport. If some mares out there find out you can cook too you’re going to end up with a dozen of them throwing themselves your way. Cooking a delicious dinner for a mare that’s already sweet on ya will seal the deal in a heartbeat,” Deed finishes with a clap.

“Glad to hear it, dad. I think I may want to limit myself to a few less,” he starts saying when there was a knock on the door. First his ears, then his head turn that direction as he finished, “than twelve though. Are we expecting company?”

Vines stands and heads to the door. “Finish your cookie, honey. I’ll get it.” Opening the door she looks down and smiles at and greets the young colt on the other side.

“Can Cure come out?” Cure recognizes Heavy’s voice, of course, and turns to look to his mother and father to ask to be excused from the table.

“Go on, colt. Have fun, but be home before sunset. We’ll help your dam with the table.” Deed says, shooing him off while Title nods with an agreeing smile.

Popping the last bit of cookie in his mouth, Cure grabs another one and heads over to the door. Giving his dam a quick jog-by nuzzle he passes the cookie off to the delighted colt waiting for him.

As the door closes behind them the colts are running off to meet the rest of the group while Vines returns to the table and starts cleaning up. Deed and Title help her with the table, then when the second tray of cookies finishes cooking, are nice enough to help her eat about half of them.

Walking back into the living room, Vines takes a look over the now relaxing Deed and Title sharing a cushion. Title smiles at her and leans over to nip at Deed's jaw. "You know what? We have about an hour and a half before Cure comes back home,” she points out, all the while glancing off to the stairs and back to meet Vines' eyes.

Ears perking straight up Deed nearly leaps off the cushion and heads towards the stairs saying, “Yeah, that may be just about enough time.” He runs up past them yelling, “You both get those flanks up here right now! We’re going to go find out what happens when I’m the one channeling the magic between your cutie marks.”

With a giggle and a flank bump Title gets up and walks past Vines, whispering, “You get ‘em first. I’m tired so you wear him out a bit for me.”

Climbing up the stairs behind her Vines argues, “Huh uh, you're up first. You think you’re tired? Try spending a day with that colt and his experiments and tell me how you feel.”

Chapter 11: Friends

Something has gone wrong. We don't seem to have an archived copy of that chapter.

Chapter 12: Heal

Author's Note

The criticism about huge walls of text have been noted. I reworked this chapter to try to break that up a bit. Just a heads up story-wise, this chapter and the next two (esp the next one) are mostly serious stuff. I'm definitely amending the story desc. and adding the drama tag. I'm also trying to take a "how do things actually work?" approach, or "If this was someone's actual life and they had to live with the consequences, what would they do based on their life experiences?"

The "how does it work?" didn't go as well as I'd hoped since at some point you're either going to get incredibly technical (and bore readers, I guess) or you're going to be like, "fuck it, it's magic".

Your criticisms are appreciated and I promise I am working to improve. This is literally my first attempt to write ever, so anything beyond "you suck, burn your keyboard and yourself to the ground" are very helpful. I also acknowledge that this is slow and, in places, very dry. It's not going to be a wild ride adventure ever, probably. Maybe... I do get ideas sometimes, too, though. It will likely get a lot more "active" once we start hitting timeskips and Cure gets into a routine, but it drives me nuts when characters clearly have this huge list of things they want to accomplish, then a timeskip happens and I'm like... "uhh, what about X? Did you just put that on hold for 4 months? It seemed important."

I want to avoid the whole "The audience looks away and nothing happens for a while" situation, and as a reader I like the details many probably feel are filler. They're not "filler" to me, so I'll try to properly convey real interactions, real passage of time, real progress, etc. Real life doesn't just "pause" and I want to avoid conveying that it did, and I sure ain't gettin paid by the word, so I'm including stuff because I feel it adds something, however small. Or I found it amusing.

I understand that's not for everyone, but I still thank you for taking the time to read my work. If you're not enjoying it, please feel free to explain why. If I agree, I'll work on improving in that direction. If it's counter to where I see the story going I'll probably address it in an A/N.

btw - should I be double spacing between paragraphs? I think that's a reader setting that can be adjusted but it may help with the whole "wall" thing too. I did it once. It looked wrong, so I undid it before publishing the chapter. Took a lot of work too...

Chapter 12: Heal

Thursday, September 4th, 908 AB

Feeling movement beside her, Title Search’s sleep-addled brain took a moment to figure out what was going on. The room, near pitch black as it was, offered no insights. She couldn’t hear anypony walking around, either inside the house or outside. She must have rolled to her side at some point after falling asleep, as the colt was on his back leaning against her barrel between her front and back legs.

Becoming slowly aware she felt the weak impact of a hoof against her shoulder as he began writhing in his sleep and occasionally pawing at the air. “No… no baby, don’t cry,” he barely mumbled. Leaning up slowly she gently began petting his chest and side, avoiding the more sensitive and ticklish areas on his belly.

“Coulda got it anywhere…” he softly said, “we’ll be fine soon. Get well too.” Realization set in and Title froze momentarily in shock and horror at the possibility that these were Ed’s last words goodbye to someone. Given his talks about his family and how few were left at the end she could only assume he was talking to his daughter, McKynzie.

Title knows that typically when woken up during a dream, especially a bad one, the memory stays more vivid than it would if the dream had passed naturally. Despite this she can only assume that the dream continuing to play out as, presumably, the next few hours or days did would be far more painful of an experience.

Leaning down she gently nudges him with her snout, nosing at him gently on his side and neck until he froze in his motions and took a deep, shuddering breath. Going limp, he slowly let the breath out and leaned more heavily against her. “Sorry I woke you,” he murmured.

“Shh. It’s okay. I’m here. You’re fine. Just relax and try to go back to sleep. Wanna lay on me and I’ll pet you?”

Nodding weakly, he sits up and is hugged against her chest as she rolls onto her back again. Once he’s situated she starts humming while gently running a hoof down his sides and his back. Ignoring the dampness of her fur she continues petting him until she feels him go fully limp and his breathing becomes slow and steady again.

Her attention is drawn to the door slowly opening and presumably, from the light mane catching what little light was in the room, Vines peeking in to check on him. “Bad dream,” Title whispers lowly, “he’s okay.” Nodding, Vines retreats from the room and heads back to bed, leaving the door slightly cracked behind her.

Wrapping her forelegs around him, Title relaxes fully into the pillow and begins humming again. With a deep yawn, she closes her eyes. Slowly, the humming in the room drifts to silence.

Thursday Morning

Cure wakes with a start as light fills his room. Recalling bits of the previous night, he can only relax back down and let out a long, defeated sigh. The nightmare was the first he’d had since his memories came, or came back... whichever. Blessedly, he couldn’t recall any significant bad dreams he’d had from before his memories, either. That’s not much of a surprise, given the lack of available media and little opportunity to encounter anything he could even vaguely define as “scary” left little fuel for a young colt’s imagination to form something nightmarish.

Luna should thank me for being born so long before she returns. I’m not so sure the princess of the night would be thrilled to walk into some Hostel or Saw movie flashback. I doubt she’d be as intimidated by a terminator chasing her, though. Man that would be a short crossover. Send her back in time instead of John Connor’s dad and Arnold would get wrecked.

Moving on from his idle thoughts, he cycles his magic through his mark and takes a quick glance at his vitals. Well, this is how everything looks when I sleep like shit. Good to know. Next time take a snapshot when you wake up feeling like a million bucks, dumbass. Then again I’m not quite ready to jump into brain alteration yet, snapshot to go by or not.

Ugh, why do my teeth feel so gnarly? Did I forget to brush? Giving the pits a quick sniff test, he’s shocked to find he doesn’t stink at all. Ahh… I must have passed out and had my arse scrubbed by mom last night. Dam was asleep under dad and if he’d washed me I probably would have woken up with a snout full of soap water while sitting on the bottom of the tub. No wonder my mouth is gross, every surface is caked in snickerdoodle residue.

Brushing his teeth, tongue, and everything else he could reach, Cure warps up the modified morning routine and heads down to get some breakfast. Delighted to find his dam waiting with a bowl of oats with fruit and nuts, he jumps up to his spot at the table and digs in with a quick “thanks, dam”. A few bites in he finally looks around and realizes it’s just the two of them.

Feeling his ears fall he asked, “I slept in until after they’d both left, didn’t I?”

“Yep, you didn’t miss them by much though. You had a bad night. I came to check on you when I heard you talking, but your mom already had you wrapped up on her chest. Who’s my cute little colt?” she adds while nuzzling between his ears.

“Pfft… clearly, I am,” he says as he continues cramming his face. “So what’s on the agenda today?”

“Well Lemon Sweet stopped by and asked for help before you got up. Amethyst is sick as can be, but Lemon’s already had the shop closed a couple days and really needs to get into work, so she asked if I could come by and help out a bit with the fillies. Amethyst isn’t in any shape to take care of two little fillies by herself right now, so we’re going to head over there and lend a hoof. You,” she pokes at him, “are going to get some first-hoof experience taking care of a couple fillies… with some help, of course.”

“That doesn’t sound so bad. Umm… do you want me to, ya know,” he points at his flank, “at least for the girls? They’re only like two aren’t they?”

“They’re three now. Oh, foals are so adorable at that age! Cherry and Lotus are like little mirror images of each other, too. Just so cute!” With her forelegs wrapped around herself she wiggles back and forth, then pauses for a moment, “Oh! I hadn’t even thought about you helping them get better. We’re safe trusting Amethyst and Lemon with knowing your talent. Amethyst and I have been really close since we were little fillies and your father and I have been good friends with both of them even before Title joined us.”

“Really? I knew you all hung out once in a while, but I didn’t know you were that close. Okay, I should be able to encourage their immune system to target the whatever-they-have a bit more aggressively. Maybe just boost it a bit or help with the symptoms…”

Cure trails off in thought while eating a few more bites. “At this point I’d prefer to encourage the body’s normal response instead of risking mutating a virus or something. That… hits a little too close to home.” Vines notices Cure get a faraway look. After a moment he snaps back to attention and continues, “As long as we can trust them knowing, that avoids the whole “medical care without parental consent” thing I was worried about.”

“I think most ponies would be happy to see their foal healthy regardless of how it happened. I don’t think you need to worry about that too much. Ponies use their special talents all the time, sweetie.”

“I think we may be running into a cultural difference, dam. In human history there have been some pretty unethical medical experiments, so informed consent is a key part of medical care in the culture I lived in. I am not exaggerating when I say this; you could have the bottled Elixir of Life, able to heal everything including old age, and…” Cure froze mid-sentence at his realization.

Old age. I didn’t even think of that! HOW? The inevitable doom that faces us all and I hadn’t even THOUGHT of trying to cure it. Well it’s only been a few days, I guess. Wait… no aging… Oh God, I can’t make those kinds of decisions.

Seeing Cure freeze, then somehow pale with his ears pinned back and tail tucking under himself, Vines approaches him and gently lays a hoof on his withers. “Honey, are you okay? You just froze there, sweetie. Why do you look like you’re panicking?”

Snapping out of his thoughts, Cure turns to face his dam. “Huh? Oh, I was going to say how you could offer the magical elixir of life to cure everything and some humans would still turn it down out of suspicion, but then it dawned on me that aging is a biological function. We get old because… well,” Cure pauses as he looks at his dam. She doesn’t know squat about cells, DNA, or any of that, so he considers how to explain it.

“It’s okay, sweetie, I know there’s a lot about this stuff I just don’t know. You’re not going to upset or offend me if you keep it simple. I’m just happy to have you teach me these things when you can. Plus you are just too cute when you get your thinking face!” she finishes with a bright smile and a nuzzle.

Returning the affection, he continues, “Okay, well very simply think of it like this. Remember how I said our bodies are made of trillions of tiny cells like a wall is made of bricks? Those cells each only live for so long before they have to be replaced, just like you would do if some bricks in that wall started to wear or crumble over time. When an old cell has to be replaced a new one is made. New cells are basically copies, though… duplicates of another cell.”

Pausing for Vines to process, he continues once she nods in understanding. “The problem is that each time a duplicate is made it’s slightly inferior to the cell it came from." Cure stops and fishes a few pieces of fruit out of his bowl and sets them on the table.

"So pretend these are all the same kind of cell, like one in your heart or wherever. The raspberry is Cell A. Cell A lives for a few years, but it gets old and needs to be replaced." Scooting it aside, he puts the blackberry in its place. "Cell B takes over and does the same thing until it gets old too." Moving the blackberry aside, he sets down a blueberry. "Cell C comes along then, and the process just keeps going."

Vines watches the whole time and, once she nods to Cure, he continues the explanation. "The problem is that," holding up the raspberry and blackberry, "Cell B is just a tiny bit inferior to Cell A, and," he sets down the raspberry and picks up the blueberry, "Cell C is a tiny bit inferior to Cell B. Each copy gets a little worse than the one before. You see where this is going, right?"

"I get it, honey. You prefer raspberries in your oats. Fine!" Cure just stares at Vines unflinching until she giggles and says, "So I'm guessing eventually our wall can't stand up anymore because after a bunch of copies the bricks just aren't strong enough, right?"

“Yes. Things stop working as well. Skin wrinkles, eyesight degrades, the immune system weakens. We get old, and eventually, when the copy being made simply isn’t good enough to function, something usually kills us off, like a cold that our body can’t fight off.”

“Oh… so that’s why elderly ponies can’t fight off colds very well. Their immune system has gotten old too.”

“Yep. Human brains have the same thing happen. In some people they’ve deteriorated to the point that even if the body is alive the mind that was in it has, essentially, already died. Of course people die of heart failure or other stuff too. Our body parts don’t all age at exactly the same rate, and I was never sure which was the greater curse, to have your mind go first or your body.”

“I’d say your mind, honey. I’ve seen older ponies. They have to be taken care of like foals, and occasionally they lash out or behave like a foal would too. It’s heartbreaking to watch when you remember how somepony used to be and compare it to how they are now.”

Nodding, he agrees, “Yeah, that is awful. The body going first is pretty terrible too, though. The pony is with it, so they can tell they’re just not able to move as well or whatever. It’s like a form of torture. Both are hard to see.”

“I don’t know what to say, Cure. Everypony gets old eventually. It’s part of life, just not a very fun part.”

“No doubt. I think we can all agree that getting old sucks about as much as anything possibly can."

Not necessarily liking his language very much, she can't help but agree with the sentiment.

"Well… I bet with a little work and more knowledge I can just about halt the process. Probably not reverse it or stop it altogether, but if I can find a way to make cell division happen without the duplicate being inferior to the original then that would be it. Thousand-year plus lifespans or more, who knows. My name would go down in history right there next to the princess’,” he finished, cringing.

“That sounds wonderful, sweetie. I’m guessing that’s why you were panicking though. It would change the world. Ponies never dying of old age… it would just change so much I can’t even fathom it.”

“Yeah. There’s a human myth about a woman who was given a gift from the gods of an ancient culture. The same culture that my mark is from and that depicted Equus creatures in their art, actually. So the myth basically goes that she was given a container by the gods. Inside it, the gods said, were blessings from them, but she was not allowed to open it because they weren’t meant for mortals to have.”

“Why give it to her in the first place then?”

“It was a trick and a test, of course, because the gods of that culture were depicted as cruel, spiteful beings that liked to teach humanity a lesson when they got out of line. But it became an allegory over time about being cautious with things that, on the surface, appear to be a blessing. Open the container, reach in, and take that blessing and you may also be letting a curse escape at the same time.”

Pausing to let that sink in, he continues, “The cure to aging was often seen as such. A blessing and a curse. So many things come along with it that I can’t honestly say which it is. Hopefully we’ll have a better answer by the time I figure it out… if I ever do.” Finished with his story, he goes back to eating while pondering the possibilities.

Standing by Cure, Vines isn’t sure what to say or think. Her son’s ideas over the last few days have changed so much, but it seems like he’s just getting started. That dinner was only a few days ago and ever since then her world has just gone so far off track, she didn’t know what to do. She went from being a typical pony, raising a foal, and maintaining a house to… whatever the stars this is.

Every parent says something like, “My little colt is going to change the world some day!” but Vines could only think “My colt is literally going to change the world any day now. He’s just working out the details, give him a moment.” The difference is immense!

Dichotomy. That was the word he’d used, and that’s what she felt. To have so much pride and excitement, yet so much fear and trepidation at the same time. He even explained how the brain struggles to process those, and here’s another example of him just… knowing something and being able to explain it like some brilliant teacher opening a pupil’s eyes to a great truth for the first time.

It was just starting to weigh on her a little more than she was sure she could manage.

Deciding to rest on a cushion while he finishes eating, she wanders into the living room and collapses on her husband’s cushion. His lingering scent brings her comfort, and she does her best to focus on relaxing instead of thinking about what the colt will come up with next. It was not meant to be, apparently, as she had just gotten situated and let out a big sigh when she heard him call “Hey, dam” from the kitchen. Tail going limp and ears dropping, she forced herself to respond even though she just wanted a moment to relax.

Raising her head she looks towards the table and responds. “Yes, honey? What’s wrong?”

Cure walks into the living room so he’s not shouting across the house. “Nothing’s wrong, I was just wondering where I can get a thermometer. I kinda talked too long and, by the time I finished my oats they were getting cold and blerg, so it occurred to me that we never tested the whole temperature altering thing yesterday when we came in for dinner. I guess I just got distracted with the cookies and going out to play.”

“And a certain little pegasus filly?” she asks with a smile.

Walking to her cushion, he let out a small laugh, “Ha! Good try, dam. You’re not wrong, but I’d say it was more the interrogation afterwards that kept me distracted than she herself did.”

Climbing onto her withers he pokes her shoulders a couple times. “So where’s a thermometer I can use to test it? I tried visualizing my oats warming back up and put my hooves on the bowl, but I didn’t feel any difference.”

“I have one upstairs, give me a second and I’ll go get it.” Cure jumps down and heads to the kitchen while Vines gets up and goes upstairs to dig in the medicine cabinet. Finding the thermometer, she brings it back down to her son and hoofs it over.

Looking at it for a moment he smiles and chuckles. Seeing her questioning look he answers, “It’s nothing, I just haven’t seen an old mercury thermometer in a long time. Humans have a more advanced version that’s easier to use and read. Also, ponies do know that mercury is a toxin, right?”

“Yes, sweetie. That’s why it’s sealed in glass. It’s toxic to ponies too.”

“Right, sorry. Not trying to be condescending, I just never know. Lots of humans didn’t for hundreds of years and it really messed some people up before they figured out what was causing it. The same thing happened with radiation. What you don’t know can hurt you very badly.”

Turning to the sink, he hops up on his little booster and gets a glass and puts a couple inches of water in it. Cure lowers the thermometer into the water, hops down, and carries it to the table. Fetching his booster from in front of the sink, he sets up his place and hops back up, holding the glass between his hooves without directly touching it.

Vines sits behind him and leans her head down on top of his between his ears so she can watch. “This won’t take too long will it, sweetie? I told Lemon we would come by after you were up and moving, so I’d like to head out before too long.”

“Nope. This’ll either work or it won’t. We’ll know soon.”

Focusing on the glass, Cure first tried to cool the water. Envisioning the water molecules bouncing around, he focused his field on slowing them and holding them in place as much as possible while enveloping the glass in his TK field from both sides. After a minute of focus he opened his eyes and lifted the thermometer. It indicated the temperature had fallen, but only about five degrees.

“It works, but a five degree decrease over a minute. So, you’re not going to be freezing anything… maybe eventually… but you could certainly use this to cool off a drink. I’d wait a few minutes for a cold, refreshing drink. That’s incredibly convenient.”

Shaking his head, he lets out a small sigh. “Yet another thing I can casually do that I never dreamed possible. Okay, other direction now.” Repeating the experiment, but instead visualizing the water molecules vibrating faster instead, he found that it does work in the other direction as well. “So maybe a tiny bit better, actually. I spent about the same time focusing but it went up seven degrees instead. That difference may just be because of ambient room temperature, though.” Cure looks around the room for a moment, as if he can see the temperature or something.

“I don’t foresee being able to experiment with a vacuum anytime soon, so I guess that’s as good as I’m going to get. I’ll have to do this later when I have more time so we can see if there’s an upper or lower limit. At some point I’m probably going to hit a plateau and am losing as much energy to the environment as I’m putting in, or vice versa.”

He pauses in thought for a moment before adding, “That would be also great for a massage or something… I wonder if that’s what those twins do. I bet mom and dad would appreciate that after a long day.”

Vines can't help but think she would appreciate it too. “Twins? There’s twins now?”

“HA! TWINS. BASIL. TWINS!” He shouts in an odd accent. Shaking his head he says, “Sorry, reference to a famous human play. No, the twins I was referring to are another one of those future story things, dam,” he waves away with his hoof, “Don’t worry about it, they won’t be born for like seventy years or so.”

“Okay…”

Setting the thermometer to the side, he drinks the water and leaves the glass on the table. Vines steps back for him to hop down. “Ready to go, honey?”

“I actually have one thing I wanted to ask about before… wait. Is Latin a language here? It must be… or must have been at some point. Luna was the name of a Roman goddess… and Celestia, I think, is Latin for the sky or space. I said vice versa and you knew what that meant. That’s from a language that hasn’t been used in centuries, but lots of words in English come from it.”

“It’s old ponish, sweetie. There were languages other than what we're speaking now, but they just kind of died out over time and Modern Common Ponish took their place, probably the same way English did with other languages.”

“Oh. Huh, weird, not only does the modern language have the same words as English, but phrases from long-dead languages match up too. That literally can not be a coincidence. I keep going back to this idea that the human world is somehow linked to this world. Whatever, I keep getting distracted."

Hopping down from his chair he heads towards the front of the house, Vines in tow. "I’m ready to go but first I do have one concern. Modern quarantine procedures for infected individuals!” he announced with more enthusiasm than the topic should elicit.

“I’m sure you just hadn’t put two and two together here, but I’ve recently, in my mind at least, had a rather unpleasant experience with illness.” Seeing her eyes widen, he nods and continues, “Now I realize Amethyst just has a cold, so I’m okay, I promise, I just want to know how ponies typically deal with it."

Stopping near the door, he turns around to face her. "Last summer when dad got sick I don’t remember doing anything special, but I also remember you and I both caught it afterwards, so maybe we should have. Title must have just gotten lucky to avoid it.”

“Umm… we don’t really have anything special we can do, honey. Wait, can’t you just kinda kill off anything we catch. You talked about boosting the fillies’ immune systems earlier. Can you do that to us?”

“Yep, and I’m glad you brought that up. I have not yet scanned you at all. I had to for dad’s shoulder and mom had asked me to check on her foal, but I’ve not had any reason to do the same with you. Are you okay with that or does that make you uncomfortable? You know I’d keep it completely professional, dam. No jokes, sarcasm, nothing like that ever when it comes to this, no matter the pony I’m treating.”

Pausing to remove an imaginary hat, he explains, “I take off my adorable colt hat and I put on my stethoscope,” which he also dons, imaginarily, with a nod.

Running a hoof through his mane Vines coos at him. "Aww, sweetie… you can always wear your hat, stethoscope or not.” Stopping her petting she continues, “I'm completely fine with you using your special talent on me. There just hasn't been any reason to, so I didn't think to ask. Let’s go sit in the living room and you do your scan real quick."

Vines climbs back on Deed’s cushion and lays down. Rather than lay next to her, Cure climbs on her back again and snuggles down into her fur, face buried once again in her mane. "Oh! I almost forgot, thanks for having breakfast ready for me. It was really good. Now, before I fall asleep, do I have your permission to do a scan on you?"

Giggling at her son, she nods. "Go ahead sweetie."

"Hey when I do this let me know how it feels on your end. I'm not trying to sneak attack anypony, but I should know what to tell ponies to expect when I do this later on."

"Okay. Do you want me to wait until you finish or just speak up while you're going?"

"During. I've been able to kind of split my attention. Practice makes perfect and all that."

"Alright. Ready when you are."

Flipping the mental switch, Cure slowly spread his magic into his dam. "I felt something, honey. It was just for a moment. Like a breeze going across my coat, maybe. If you hadn't said to pay attention I would have probably never noticed or just dismissed it as my imagination."

Nodding into her mane, Cure mumbles out a quick okay and concentrates on the results before him. What he sees sparks a memory from his past. "I'm seeing an area of concern here, dam." He feels, and sees through his magic, when she tenses under him. With a calm, level voice he explains, "I can feel you tensing. There's no reason to. Relax. I'm not doing anything, just looking. Don't forget what I said earlier. Medical professional mode, here. Nothing will happen without you explicitly saying something," he said as he gently pets the side of her neck.

Waiting until she calms a little he continues, "Now, what I believe this to be is something I became familiar with when Cyndi was having pain. Unless I am mistaken, you are probably experiencing that after intercourse as well. In fact, there’s probably times it just flat out hurts without any reason at all. Just move a certain way or lean or, sometimes when you’re not even moving at all. Am I right in assuming so?"

Holding back a sob, Vines only nods, untrusting in her ability to not break down if she opens her mouth to speak.

Seeking a way to calm and distract his dam, Cure decides to introduce her to a new concept, "When she went through testing they performed a procedure called an ultrasound. It's not completely dissimilar from what I'm doing, in a way. They could bounce sound waves around inside a body. Not the kind the ear can detect, these are like, really high frequency, hence the “ultra” in the name.”

“When those waves hit something they bounce back and, through some complex form of technology, an image could be created that would kinda-sorta let them see what's wrong. I would sometimes see the results, but because I lacked the knowledge and training to interpret them the doctor had to explain the image to me. Her too, obviously.”

He pauses in thought for a moment before adding, “I suspect I’m doing something like that with magic, but unless I want to be the subject of a research study I may never know. Fortunately, my way of seeing things now is very much like you can see the fireplace against the wall. It's way better than those images they could make.”

Hopping down from her back, Cure walks in front of her to meet her eyes. Knowing some levity will likely help calm her down and bring her out of the spiraling emotions she's going through, he decides to put on a bit of an act.

With a sad pout and pinned ears and tail he says, “They didn't have magical medical colts in human land, much to their dismay.” Perking up he continues, “Youuuu, on the other hoof,” jabbing a hoof in her direction, “do not suffer from that shortcoming because You. Are. A. Smart. Mare, and you obviously planned ahead,” he finishes with a sage nod, then points at his wide-opened eyes, leans forward and whispers, “I see how you had it all planned out,” he finishes, looking around the room conspiratorially and giving her a wink.

Speaking normally he continues, “With your Harmony-granted wisdom, you said to yourself,” he raises his voice a couple octaves in a terrible, generic female voice that sounds nothing like Vines, “Self… going to the doctor sucks!” Stamping a rear hoof and crossing his forelegs in disappointment, he then throws his hooves in the air in exasperation and declares, “They're all big jerks and can't fix me up when I have a problem. Soooo, instead of relying on those dummies, I'll do even better!”

Tapping one hoof against the other in a pony fist-palm, then pointing roughly at his crotch area with both hooves and a huge, exaggerated nod he says, “I'll make my own medical pony! He'll be smarter, and cuter, and a waaaay better doctor than those losers could ever hope to be.”

“CURE!” Vines shouts, which Cure ignores completely.

Holding his hoof over his eyes like a visor and panning the room, he does his best “big strong deep voice” impression and explains, “So you set out into the world to find the smartest, most handsome, most ruggedly stallion-y stallion that ever stallioned…”

Cure goes back to his normal voice, gives a deadpan look, and flatly says, “and then met my sire on the way to the train station and said… meh he'll work too, I guess,” he finishes with a shrug. He spreads his hooves wide, looking over himself and, speaking normally, says, “Almost nine short years later your ingenious plan has finally come to fruitation!"

Vines started laughing despite her fears and worries. The horrible impression by her little colt, and the sheer absurdity of the ridiculous story he spun out of thin air is just too much!

Joining in, she shouts, "Yesss! It all went according to plan! Behold,” she thrusts both hooves in his direction, “the new and improved medical pony… of the future!" she said, giggling the whole time. "Oh sweetie, I wish I could take all the credit, but I think there's at least four other parents out there that also played a part in how wonderful you turned out. Also… fruitation?”

"Yes. The plan bore fruit, hence fruit-tation, duh…” he explains, rolling his eyes and waving at himself as proof of her victory. Hooves on his hips and a scowl on his face he declares, “Of course, anypony else calls me a fruit and we’ll be havin words.”

She can’t help but giggle again and how silly he’s acting.

Pausing for a moment, he sits on his haunches and gives her a serious look to let her know the playful moment has passed. “Now, despite the unmitigated success of your scheme, we do need to talk about it, dam.” He holds up a hoof to forestall any interruptions or objections. “First, I’m almost certain I can help with this. I’m only hesitating to make promises because of my lack of experience, but I did not get a mark in sword fighting or kickboxing or underwater basket weaving.”

With all of the seriousness a young colt can muster he gets up, turns slightly so his mark is visible to her, and stands at military attention declaring to the world, “I was ordained with a mark in healing, and with Harmony as my witness, I promise I will heal my fellow ponies, and any others that, in good faith, seek my help.”

Pausing to relax his stance, he meets her eyes. “And I'm certainly not going to leave my own dam to suffer.” Turning to bodily face her straight on, he softens his expression. “Injuries like this… they come with a lot more hurt than the physical pain. That part is awful too, but it's the mental anguish that they inflict is where they are the most insidious,” he practically spits the words out with disgust.

Approaching his dam, he takes a moment to nuzzle into her chest and shoulders, leaning against her fully with his back and side. “You start to wonder if you are a good wife because intimacy is painful. You keep quiet because you don't want your husband to think you're making things up or you just don't want him. You begin doubting yourself as a wife and a lover, and then you fear you won't be able to fulfill your duty as one, either in bed or in your ability to give him foals.”

“You're scared to go to the doctor because you don't think they're going to be able to help anyhow, or you worry they’ll just write you off as not knowing what you are talking about in the first place. The worst part of it is that you've been mentally associating pain with intimacy for so long the two become inseparable, so the very thought of having sex saps any desire to do so.”

“Meanwhile all the other fears and doubts just spiral together and reinforce themselves until you end up doing nothing and suffering in silence with nopony to just be there and tell you it's okay and it isn't your fault.” Pausing, he pushes deep into her fur and says, “I’m here. It is not your fault. I love you, dam, and I will help you if you let me."

Feeling the dam break, Vines wraps her forelegs around her son, buries her face in his mane, and bawls for what felt like an hour. Exhausted, she slowly catches her breath and recomposes herself. She felt like there was hope for the first time in years. It was a warm, comforting feeling having her doubts and anxieties acknowledged after so much time spent forcing them into a dark, neglected corner of her mind.

The whole time Cure just lays there and gently pushes his head into her while she cries herself out, leaving no more tears to be shed left. Finally, with absolute conviction, she raises her head, leans back, and looks down to meet his eyes.

"Please help your dam, Cure. I don't want to hurt all of the time anymore."

Nodding, he sits up and wraps around her neck in an embrace. He couldn't do anything to help his wife during his human life, but he swears he'll never let his dam suffer if he can help it.

Firing up his mark he demands every spare ounce of power in his body to reduce the swelling, relieve the irritation, restore the area to health, and do everything it can to ensure it never inflicts that misery upon her again. Holding on for several minutes he finally flags under the exertion. Taking a last look before breaking the connection, he feels a warmth flow from his core, his soul cries in joy at the healthy, rejuvenated area in his vision.

“I definitely felt THAT,” she says wide-eyed.

Giggling, he releases her and begins to stagger away. Vines can only stare in shock when, slurring his words, he begins in a distinctly “Cure” voice, but a completely different inflection and vocabulary from normal. "Yer damned right you did. WOO boy. Ughhh... I am soooo fuckin wiped rinnow. Holeee shit, momma. Heheheh. You're all fixed upppuh. pup. Hah! Pups! Haha you don't have puppies!” he declares, pointing at her, wobbling a bit while standing there. “PONIES! It's POH NEEZ, with little hoovzees.”

Pausing to look at his own hoof for a moment, he follows it with his eyes while waving it around a little. His attention then snaps back to Vines and he points at her again. “Das what youze gonna have. Lots of cute furry poneez jus like yer lil Curebot healzy!” he shouts, pounding at his chest. “Woo is gonna be so ahhssum. Jus yuu wayyt. Soff furry lil pones with them big eyez and lil hoovzes all sayin "dayum Cure thanks for helping momma fix up her vag so she could have us. You're so great a bug. Nono…not BUG. Big bruhtha, yaaaaaaay!"” waving his forelegs for a while correcting himself.

He finally sits on his haunches and wraps himself in a big hug and shouts, “Cuddles for everyponeeee!” After holding the “e” for a solid five count while warbling he shakes his head to try to focus. “Ugh.” Smacking his lips a few times, then licking around his muzzle he heads over to his cushion while yawning. “Imma lay down a sec here. Love you dam. G'nite," then he immediately flops over on his cushion, curling into a circle and using his tail as a pillow. He begins snoring within seconds.

Vines didn't have a clue what half the stuff that just came out of her colt meant. She was pretty sure it loosely translated to, "Everything is fixed now. You may safely proceed to have plenty of adorable foals, which would please me. If you’ll pardon my forthrightness, I am quite exhausted and believe it best that I partake in a well deserved intermission to this dastardly conscious condition" or thereabouts.

Approaching the snoring colt, she gave him a quick look over, finding no sign anything was wrong. His breathing seems normal, if loud, she can hear his heart beating fine, and he’s not clammy or sweaty or anything. Clearly he exhausted whatever magic he had, reported his success, then promptly passed out and is otherwise apparently fine. Any other madness or profanities he spouted were inconsequential and therefore disregarded.

Vines knew the instant she had stood up that something was definitely different. The deep throbbing achiness that had frequently plagued her for the last six years was simply gone. Shifting slightly, there was no sign of it. Nothing. Feeling the need to cry for an entirely different reason, Vines could only let out a deep shuddering breath that seemed to force out years of fear, regret, and loathing.

Relief. It’s the only word she can use to describe the feeling. She had accepted pain as just part of life, and now its sudden absence contrasted with what she’d assumed she would experience forever… She felt relieved, and despite everything else she had to take care of for the remainder of the long day ahead of her, for the first time in nearly a decade she could finally look forward to the next time she could get her stallion alone.

A lingering doubt still nagged at her that maybe there was something else, but hopefully when he recovers Cure can assuage that concern for her as well.

Laying by his cushion, she once again wraps her forelegs around him, nuzzles her face all up and down his sides and back, and gives him a soft kiss on his brow just above his eyes. She buries her nose in his mane and takes a deep breath, savoring the scent of the colt that just keeps changing everything.

After a moment she stands to head to the restroom. Vines pauses and, not knowing who to even address, she simply looks to the window, smiles, bows her head in respect, and says a deep, heartfelt "thank you" to whatever entity out there made this all possible.

Knowing she is running later than intended, she rushes to the restroom to wash away the snot and tears and clean up her face. Gathering some supplies for lunch, Vines loads the small pull-cart and makes a small nest for her son with a folded blanket. She’s pretty sure he wouldn’t wake even if she just chucked him across her withers, but he clearly needs some sleep, so she does her best to ensure his comfort on the short ride. Once she cleans him up and gets him situated they head out.

Arriving a fair bit later than she’d planned to, Vines knocks on the door. She can hear coughing from inside, so she calls out to Amethyst Blossom to ask if she can come in. Hearing a “yeah, sure, come on in” from the house, Vines unstraps herself from the cart and opens the door fully to enter. She finds little Lotus Bloom and Cherry Tart waiting to greet her just on the other side of the door.

“Oh, hello there. How are you two doing today?”

“Good” they announce in stereo before Lotus speaks up, “Dam’s not feeling good. She was sleepin. She’s awake now.”

Nodding in agreement, Cherry adds, “Momma’s sick and dam had to go to work. Who’s that?” She asks while pointing at the cart behind Vines.

Looking behind herself at Cure she turns back to Cherry and explains, “That’s my son, Cure Wave. He’s asleep because he played real hard yesterday and had sad dreams last night. He didn’t get enough sleep, so he’s taking a nap. I’m going to check on your mom and I’ll be right back, so just go back to playing for now, okay?”

Getting a "kay!" in response, Vines grabs the food out of the cart and sets it in the kitchen on her way to the stairs. She calls up to Amethyst, “Amy, dear, I’m coming up.” Climbing the stairs she hears her friend call back “okay!” and cough a few more times.

Opening the bedroom door, Vines pokes her head in and finds Amethyst lying on her bed with the curtains mostly pulled shut. The mare has a rich lavender coat and truly matched her namesake. With a deep pink mane and tail her colors are almost an exact reversal of Title’s, though they otherwise share no resemblance between them. Her cutie mark is a pile of gems on one side of a balanced scale with the other side empty. She looks mostly fine, just exhausted… and maybe a little sweaty.

“How are you feeling, Amy? I could hear you coughing from outside the front door.”

“Ugh…” she grunted out as she rolled onto her belly. With a deep, husky voice she says, "I feel like I probably look, Vines. Like a big ‘ol pile 'a shit. Sweet said she'd ask ya to come by. How ya been? We ain't got together for a minute."

Fully entering the room, Vines kicks the door shut behind her. “It’s been a wild week, Amy. Cure got his cutie mark the other day and he’s been keeping me busy as can be since then. The colt’s going to wear me out, I swear. It’s worth it, though.”

Opening the window to let in fresh air, she turns back to the bed and continues, “He’s going to really change things, and I’m not just saying that like any parent would. He has so many ideas and just thinks of stuff I would never have imagined. Such a little genius! Oh! Your little fillies greeted me at the door. They’re so adorable at that age.”

“Oh yeah? He found his special talent, huh.” Pausing to cough a few times, she weakly finished, “I’ll hafta ask 'em about it when I ain't coughin my brains out.”

“Well, he’s out cold right now, curled up on a blanket in my little cart. I need to actually run down and check on him and get him situated downstairs here in a moment. He went out to play kickball with some of the neighborhood children last night.”

Letting out a sigh she explains, “He wore himself out so bad he fell asleep in the living room… not that I can claim to be any better. Deed snuggled up on me and I passed out right there too."

"D'awwww"

Smiling, Vines says, "I woke up in my bed in the middle of the night when I heard Cure call out, though. He was having a nightmare. Title took care of him before I could even get out of bed, though, bless her heart.”

“Aww, poor colt. Yeah, go get 'em situated. I ain't goin nowhere. I can’t thank ya enough for comin ta take care 'a me ‘n the fillies, V. If it was just me I’d hunker down here and ride it out, but I just don’t have the energy to barely move, 'n we been trying to keep them away from me so I don’t get 'em sick too."

Pausing, Amethyst looks around the room and sniffs the air. "Ya probably shouldn’t even be in the room with me. I smell like I been workin' the fields... or the streets. Maybe both.”

Opening her mouth to reply, Vines pauses, perks her ears up, and looks around. “Huh… that’s weird.” She turns to the door and opens it, poking her head out. “I don’t hear anything. Ah fudge… what could they have gotten into so quickly?”

Looking over her withers at her friend she says, “I don’t hear a peep from downstairs and that’s usually a bad sign with children. Let me go get him taken care of and check on your fillies and I’ll be back in a sec with some water for you. I actually have something to talk to you about regarding this whole cold thing, honey.”

“Oof, yeah… them bein too quiet is not a good sign. I’ll be here, babe. Thanks.”

With that Vines heads out the door and down the stairs. She’s surprised to see her son is now laying on a large cushion, passed out on his back. Cherry is laying on his chest and belly with her forelegs draped over his shoulders. Lotus is next to them on her back also, snuggled right into his side with her head up on his chest by her sister. His tail is acting as an impromptu blanket for the three of them, and aside from some soft snoring and the occasional cough from upstairs there’s not a sound in the house.

Vines has to struggle not to gush out loud at the scene, but she’s wise enough to keep her cool and be as quiet as she can. Fetching a drink for Amethyst, she quietly creeps back upstairs and re-enters the bedroom.

“Amy, sweetie… you wouldn’t believe how adorable they are down there! Cure must have woken up and climbed out of the cart I brought him in. He’s on his back asleep with your fillies snuggled up on and beside him, all snoring their cute little snores together!”

Rolling onto her belly again, Amethyst turns to face Vines, laying across the bed. “HAH! That’s fantastic, V. The colt’s a natural foalsitter even when he’s asleep.” Taking the water from Vines and mumbling another thanks, Amethyst downs about half of it in one go. “So, what were you gonna tell me bout the cold thing? Is this something that’s goin 'round real bad? I got no idea where I picked it up, but it absolutely whipped my rear somethin fierce.”

“No, sweetie, that’s not it at all.” Sitting on her haunches with her forehooves on the bed, Vines leans close to Amethyst and whispers to her, “So before I say anything, I need you to absolutely swear to me that what I’m about to tell you does not leave this room.”

Raising a brow and meeting her eyes Amethyst can tell that Vines is serious about this. Nodding she says, “Sure thing, honey… you know I won’t tell a soul anything you say to me. Never have, never will.”

Reaching out and taking one of Amethyst’s hooves, Vines holds it against her chest and, again whispers quietly to her, “It’s Cure. His special talent is healing. He…” breaking a small sob, “he was able to help me get better. I’m not hurting anymore, Amy. I can’t even remember what it used to be like to not hurt, and it’s all gone now.”

Eyes widening, Amethyst pulls her hoof back and stops to think for a moment. Pondering the implications, she looks down, brow scrunched in thought. Finally, meeting Vines’ eyes she leans forward and, abandoning her normal speech, slowly says, “You can not under any circumstances let anypony else know this, Vines. There is no such thing as healing magic. If some noble gets wind of his talent he’ll be scooped up and on a train to Canterlot before you have a chance to raise a hoof.”

“What do you mean there’s no such thing as healing magic? Almost all of the doctors at every hospital I’ve ever been to have been unicorns!”

Coughing to the side a few times, Amethyst growls back, “And what do those useless morons do with them horns of theirs, V? They wave 'em around and lift shit. They can’t heal a fuckin scratch, just sew it up with their levitation and a needle, slap a bandage on, it and send ya on yer way.” Becoming truly serious she demands, “What all can he do?”

Shrinking under her friend’s intensity, Vines answers, “I don’t know. I think… anything. Everything. He fixed me in five minutes before I came here this morning. That’s why he’s passed out downstairs. He must have poured every scrap of energy in his little body into fixing up his dam,” she finished, eyes watering.

“Aww, fuck me, Vines. That’s like princess-level shit right there. Did he sprout a fuckin horn while he was at it?” Not waiting for a response, she continues, “You best talk to Deed and Title and let 'em know to keep their traps shut or that colt’s gonna be snatched up in a hurry.”

Pausing to regain her calm, Amethyst sighs and says, “I was always terrified you’d end up having ta get a hysterectomy if it kept gettin worse. I bet Deed'll be thrilled, you finally bein able to have more foals.”

At Vines’ look downward Amethyst put two and two together, “Ya never told 'em, did'ya?” Leaning forward, Amethyst quietly growls at the other mare. “What the fuck, V! Ya told me when Sweet and I moved back two years ago… how can you be okay telling one 'a yer lovers but not even lettin yer husband know?”

“It doesn’t hurt as much with mares, you know that! I just couldn’t tell him! How do you tell your stallion that it’s a bad day and you just can’t stand the thought of him mounting you? That would devastate him!”

Brows hiked, Amethyst nods in agreement. “Yah, it would. He’d be upset, but nowhere near as upset as if he found out five years down the road that he’s been breakin yer snatch in half every time he jumped on ya and you just kept quiet and suffered the whole time. What were ya thinkin?”

“I was being a good wife!” Vines hissed.

“Oh honey,” pausing to cough a few times, Amethyst steps to her friend, wraps her forelegs around Vines and pulls her into a hug. “You were doin what ya thought was right, but if he found out now that he'd been hurtin ya the whole time... he'd be devastated. It would be even worse if he knew you’d confided in anypony else over him. I can’t even imagine the cosmic luck you must have to just… have it all waved away like that.”

Releasing Vines, she lays back on the bed and turns back to face her. “What would ya have done when he was ready ta have more foals? Lay there and let him pound away while you’re barely holding back tears? You can only fake so much,” she says sympathetically. “They’re unobservant, not imbeciles.” She pauses in thought a second. “Well, usually they’re both, but still. Yer damned lucky ya found a good mare to lend a hoof.”

Amethyst cringes at the thought of enduring pain like that. “Deed isn’t huge, but he’s a pretty big earth pony. I remember him damn near rippin me in half a few times when he was still learning and went ta town too fast. Some damn horn head or featherbrain may be okay, but… damn, ouch,” she finishes with a wince. Amethyst lets out a sigh, shaking her head. “Well, I suppose it’s a non-issue now. You haven’t told anypony else, have you?”

Vines shakes her head. “Only Cure knows.”

Furrowing her brows, Amethyst starts, “Well of cour… Oh! No, I mean about Cure’s special talent, not the endometriosis.”

“Oh! No, only Deed and Title know.”

Amethyst nods, “Good, keep it that way,” she insists. “Now, how does this work?”

“He didn’t explain in detail, just said that he can tell when something isn’t right and can fix it.”

“Well, nothin’ doin until the colt wakes up, I suppose. Why don’t you go check on em real fast? Ugh, just this little bit of excitement has me all worn out again. If yer up for it I could really use a hoof with showerin. Maybe the warm water will open my damn head up and wake me up some more.”

“Of course, sweetie. I fell asleep before I could shower last night and came here pretty quickly after getting up, so I could use a good scrubbing too.”

“I figured. I could pick up Deed’s scent in yer mane. Go check on the foals, I’ll be right here waiting. We ain’t gonna have no funny action, though, missy. I sure as Celestia don’t feel up to that, no matter how good it may feel for ya now.”

“Pfft.” Vines waves her suggestion away. “You know the rules, Amy. No fun without everypony’s okay,” she says, turning towards the door.

“We may have to arrange that. Sweet misses you too, ya know. And the stars know we could both use a good dicking every once in a while. I’m sure she’d be happy to lend a hoof once Title is too far along to help out. Celestia knows I’ll take one, or more, for the team,” she adds, wagging her eyebrows only to bark out a cough.

Vines pauses at the door, raising an eyebrow back at her friend. Amethyst is on her belly, side towards Vines with her head and neck flat on the bed, turned slightly to face her. All four hooves are firmly planted on top of the bed.

Amethyst growls a little and asks, “mmm I don’t suppose we could get Deed to start liftin some weights, could we?” she asks, grin growing, tail wagging, and rear lifting slightly. “Maybe get a little more bulk on that big chest of his… Sun and stars, I miss that hard wall of muscle pressing on my withers… them teeth yankin back on my mane…”

Scowling at her friend, Vines points out, “You don’t sound very sick at all, Amy. Just incredibly horny.”

“I’m just getting the sleepy tingles…” she scowls back before pointing an accusing hoof at the judging look, “Hey! Yer the one that came in her smellin like a stallion rode yer back! Besides, it’s been a while, okay!” she defends. “It doesn’t matter if I’ve got a cold, he would be the one doin all the work anyhow,” she giggles while coughing, then flops on her side.

“Uh huh… We’ll talk when you feel better. Maybe Cure can foalsit for us one evening. He’s very mature for his age, you know.”

“Great! Now get! Check on the foals, I’ll just sit here like a big useless lump 'n wait for ya.” Amethyst says with a yawn while lazily shooing Vines away as she heads out the door.

Chapter 13: Cure

Something has gone wrong. We don't seem to have an archived copy of that chapter.

Chapter 14: Sit

Author's Note

Just a heads-up, this is the 2nd chapter I posted today. If you just opened the story and went to the latest chapter posted you probably are skipping one!!!

With a double-post day it'll probably be Thursday, give or take, before I put another out there.

Chapter 14: Sit

Thursday, September 4th, 908 AB

“Okay, fine! I’ll make you a deal. I’ll either carry you TO the park, or, after you’re done playing, I’ll carry you back home. But not both, so either you’ll be walking to the park now, or you’ll be walking home afterwards. You saw how hard it was for me to just carry you to the kitchen! I’m just a weak little colt,” he says with an exaggerated pout.

“You sure are.” Cherry says. Lotus just nods along.

“Ouch. My ego…”

“What’s an egow?” Lotus asks.

“It’s how you feel about yourself. Here I am having two little fillies call me weak. I think I’m going to cry.” Cure dramatically sniffs and covers his eyes with a fetlock, looking away.

Lotus leans over to not-whisper to Cherry. “He cwies a lot.”

Cherry, in an equally not-quiet voice, responds, “Yeah, dam says colts are sens. Sensiv. They’re like big babies.”

Nodding in agreement Lotus gently pats on Cure’s leg. “It’ll be okay, big bwother. We’ll walk to the pawk so you can west.”

Hamming it up, Cure enthusiastically wraps her in a hug, “Oh thank you, dear Lotus. You are too kind.” With one last big smooch between her ears he sets her down and they set out again.

The group walk in silence for another ten minutes before they arrive at the same park he’d played kickball at the night prior. There were already several other foals present, though he noted that neither Heavy, Glacial, nor Crosswind were there. Leading the girls to the playground equipment, Cure peels off and hops up on a bench while they take off running to join the other foals their age.

With the warm sun on his coat and a nice, steady breeze he begins to feel a bit sleepy again. Doing his best to avoid drifting off, he’s pulled from his thoughts when a familiar voice comes from behind.

“Hey, Cure. Are those your sisters? I didn’t know you had any.”

Looking over his withers he finds Dawn Glow, Delta Coast, and Rising Pitch walking up to him.

He greets them with a wave and asks, “Hey, how’s everypony doing?” Looking towards the fillies he explains, “No, they’re not my sisters… do you know Lemon Sweet and Amethyst Blossom? They live a few houses down from us.”

“We’re good. Kinda bored, though. Not much to do today,” Coast says, looking around the park. “Don’t they have that candy store downtown? I think it was closed when I went by yesterday.”

“Yep, I’m watching their fillies for them while my dam helps Amethyst out. She’s been sick with a bad cold and Lemon had been staying home to take care of her. They’re good family friends, so my dam’s helping out today instead. That way Lemon can get the shop back up and running.”

“Huh. Aren’t you a little young to be foalsitting though?” Dawn asks, then immediately stammers, wide-eyed, “Not that I’m saying you’re not responsible enough or anything!”

“Heh, it’s okay, Dawn. You’re not wrong. If it was just me I would definitely agree, but like I said… my dam is helping out. I left a note saying I was taking the fillies to the park so they could burn off some energy. I figure having two noisy fillies in the house would make it hard for Amethyst to get any rest.”

“That’s a good idea, Cure. We were headed downtown and saw you, so we figured we’d ask if you wanted to come with us to get some ice cream,” Rising says, then pauses, looking at the fillies, “but I guess you probably can’t do that right now.”

“Aww. A hot fudge sundae does sound pretty good…” he lets out a sigh, “but no, probably not.” He waves a hoof at the fillies, who are zipping around the slides and climbing up everything almost in a blur. “We just got here and they definitely need to move. They’ve probably been stuck in the house most of the week. Of course, if they keep going like that they’ll collapse in no time.”

“Well, do you wanna wait for them to tire themselves out and bring them with us?” Coast asks.

“Yes, I really do… but I don’t think I can. I just left a note behind, so I don’t want to panic my dam or Amethyst if I’m gone a lot longer than I should be. I also don’t have any bits, so I wouldn’t be able to buy anything anyhow.”

“Ahh… yeah I guess you wouldn't normally bring money with you to the park,” Dawn nods, “Well that stinks. I only brought enough for a cone or I’d pay and let you make it up to me later.”

Slowly, all three other ponies turn to look at Dawn, who begins turning pink in the ears, eyes widening as she realizes what she’d said. Her ears start to pin back a bit and her tail stops rigidly behind her.

“A shame,” Cure says with a sigh. Leaning forward so his nose is just a few inches from Dawn’s he continues, “I’m so very curious how you planned on having me make it up to you, too,” he finishes with a wistful smile. “I guess we’ll just have to find out another day, Sunrise.”

He turns back just in time to see the fillies come running back to him demanding he push them on the swing. Climbing off of the bench, he looks back to the girls again and adds, “Well, ladies, I’m really sorry that I have to go, but duty calls, you know. I hope you enjoy your treat, though,” he finishes, winking at Dawn as he walks with Cherry and Lotus to the swings.

Coast and Rising, still staring at Dawn, each raise an eyebrow at the other.

“Dawn… what in the hay was that?” Rising finally asks her friend who is now glowing an even darker orange.

“I didn’t mean it like that!” Dawn insists.

“It… kinda sounded like you did. Like, a lot,” Coast points out.

“Yeah, Dawn… you staking a claim on him now that he’s got his cutie mark?”

“No! I swear, I just blurted it out! He’s cute and obviously good with fillies,” she says, watching Cure as he hops back and forth, pushing one filly then the other on the swings, “but I never meant to say THAT!”

“Well… he seems to have taken it pretty well… Sunrise,” she says with a snort. “Maybe he likes you? I can’t see him giving just anypony a nickname like that.” Coast asks with a shrug.

“He sure didn’t seem to have a problem owing you one,” Rising adds with a smile. “From that little grin I’d say he kinda likes the idea, actually,” she adds as she shoulder bumps her friend.

Recovering from the weak shove, Dawn lets out a huff and regains her composure. “Pfft, whatever. You two are just jealous! C’mon, let’s head to the parlor.” With that she trots off, leaving the two earth ponies looking at each other with mischievous grins.

“She totally wants him,” Rising says, nodding towards Cure.

“Oh yeah, this should be fun,” Coast laughs, turning to follow her friend. “C’mon, she’s stormin off in a huff and now I want a sundae too. Let’s go.”

Together they trot a bit faster to catch up with their friend.

Cure watches the girls head out of the park and can barely hold back a laugh. Cherry and Lotus are giggling their brains out on the swings, cheering loudly every time he pushes them. Of course, being little fillies they’re barely going higher than Cure’s head, but that doesn’t seem to dissuade their enthusiasm.

After about ten minutes and countless “I’m going faster / higher / whatever than you” competitions they finally begin to lose interest and jump off to burn more energy with the other foals.

Cure returns to his bench and waits them out, knowing they’ll be ready to head back soon enough. Off in the distance he sees Rocky playing with some of his siblings, but they’re all occupied with what they’re already doing so he leaves them be and just watches the fillies.

Sure enough, after about fifteen minutes of foal and pony watching, the fillies return to him huffing and puffing up a storm. Looking up at Cure they both immediately sit on their haunches and lift their front legs in the universal “carry me” move.

Rolling his eyes, he hops down off the bench, sets them on it, then lays in front of it for them to more easily climb on his back. With Cherry taking point and Lotus guarding their flanks, Cure heads back to Lemon’s and Amethyst’s house.

Pacing himself to conserve whatever metaphysical energy rushing may use, Cure takes about the same amount of time to get back as it took for him and two fillies to walk to the park initially. Vines had cleaned up the house a bit and was sitting on a cushion reading when they walked in.

Greeting everypony with a round of nuzzles, she helps the fillies down and takes them to the bathroom for a potty break. Cure, meanwhile, waits for Vines to return so he can go upstairs and check on Amethyst.

Once the girls are situated and sufficiently distracted with their toys again the two head up and find Amethyst asleep. Cure doesn’t waste any time. With a “go ahead” nod from his dam he gently rests a hoof on Amethyst’s shoulder. He’s surprised to see that, despite the rather insignificant amount of WBCs he created compared to the total number in her system, the effect is profound.

Throughout her system the immune response has massively cripped the virus’ ability to reproduce. Coming to the conclusion that the lungs must have been basically “ground zero” for the virus, Cure can only assume that he accidentally was more effective than he anticipated. He steps closer to his dam and waves her outside the door so he can give her an update.

“I don’t get it, dam. I was able to convert a lot of the virus-infected cells into attack cells, but it’s like it threw her system into overdrive. The only thing I can figure is that somehow, subconsciously, I also empowered her immune response. I’m not sure I even need to give her another round of conversion, really. If this continues for another few hours she’ll be completely virus free.” Looking back at the sleeping mare he scratches at his chin in thought.

“Well, sweetie… maybe there’s more to your special talent than what you consciously do with it. You keep telling everypony that your talent is to make ponies healthy. Maybe you were right and, aside from what you actually do on purpose, you also help them heal. You should give your father a look later to check on his shoulder,” she suggests.

“That’s a good point, dam,” he says, giving her an appreciative nuzzle. “What should I do about Amethyst though?”

“Well… I don’t know. I would say just come back and check on her every half hour or so to make sure she keeps getting better. I don’t think you should do any more than what’s necessary, though. If she’ll be fine in a few hours either way then that’s good enough, I’m sure.”

Nodding along, Cure agrees with the decision. “Okay, that sounds good. I still need to give Lotus a little boost, though.” Turning to head down the stairs he adds, “I didn’t want to do anything until we got her situated back home. Also, they may need baths. They played pretty hard at the park. I think Lotus actually fell asleep on Cherry when I was carrying them back.”

“Well I’m sure Lemon would be thrilled to have the fillies cleaned up before dinner. That’s one less thing she’ll need to do when she gets home from work. I’ll get Cherry, you give Lotus a little boost, and then we’ll get her cleaned up while you help dry Cherry after I bathe her, okay?”

“Sounds like a plan.”

No plan survives contact with the enemy, Cure reflected. The fillies, as young’uns tend to do, decided to be quite uncooperative when it came to actual bath time. Why is that, anyhow? Mom and dad said I was a nightmare when I was a little boy too, but then as adults we pay tens of thousands of dollars to get a hot tub installed. You’d think the warm water would sap whatever energy they have left, but damn… Cherry was like a friggin tornado in there.

It wasn’t until Vines had busted out the big guns that both fillies had finally cooperated. “Your poor mother is going to be so sad. She was trying to get some sleep and all that noise has probably already woken her up. I sure hope she isn’t in bed crying too much.”

That was enough to get Cherry to pause, but the finisher was Lotus looking at her with big, watery eyes asking, “Chawwy, why aww you twyin to make dam cwy? She’s been weewy sick all week!” Raising a hoof to her lips she then let out an equally loud “Shhh!” all the while ignoring the fact that she was every bit as loud and obstinate up to that point. The chastisement was so effective that Cherry had almost begun crying, but a gentle “it’s okay” from Vines placated her enough to prevent any waterworks from being turned on.

Nopony likes to be the villain, I suppose. I’m just glad Cherry didn’t start an argument about Lotus being just as noisy beforehoof. I was totally waiting for that to be thrown out there. Also, why the hell do ponies put a hoof in front of their mouth to shush each other. That seems like a gesture that wouldn’t translate directly to hooves.

Dried and relocated back to the living room, Cure and Vines are now brushing the fillies’ manes and tails with them each collapsed belly-down on a cushion. Cure finds the action calming himself and, although he doesn’t mean to, he can’t help but mentally compare it to when he had dogs over the years.

“So cute when they’re all docile like this,” he mumbles, ignoring Vines’ giggle.

“You’re no better, Cure. Title told me all about last night! All tuckered out like a little foal, she gave you a good scrubbing and brushed out your coat, mane, and tail before bed too.”

Pretending he wasn’t blushing at all, he finished up with Lotus and gave her a quick check to see how his, much reduced, immune system buff had done. From the looks of it she shouldn’t have any but the most mild symptoms, and both parents will certainly be thrilled to know that neither the fillies, nor likely Lemon herself, will be coming down with anything.

Ugh, I do need to start taking better care of my coat and mane. I could chalk up previous laziness to being a dumb colt, but now that I actually notice being funky I don’t think I can keep being a slob.

Plus I don’t want to get labeled “that gross kid” like what happened to a couple boys back when I was in first grade. I don’t think they escaped that label until all the elementary schools got mixed up when we went to middle school, years later. Damn, now I feel like an asshole for being a part of it. That one kid’s family was obviously poor as hell. A whole lifetime of regrets to carry with me, and no way to ever make up for them. Ugh.

Once the fillies are all brushed out Cure and Vines take advantage of their sedated state and check on Amethyst again. Coming back out of the room, Cure gives his diagnosis. “She’s like… basically all better. Really, dam, I’m completely at a loss here. I do see that she still has way more white blood cells than you had when I checked you this morning, but I would expect that from someone fighting an infection either way.”

“Well that sounds wonderful, Cure. I’m sure she’ll be happy to hear that.”

Nodding in agreement he adds, “Oh yeah, I need to make sure you’re not going to get sick too… we’ll do that when we get home. Anyhow, I think it may be a good idea to wake her up and see how she feels. As best I can tell she should be perfectly fine, if not maybe just a bit tired.”

He pauses and looks in the room again, then faces back to his dam. “She still may need more sleep if she hasn’t gotten much over the last few days, but you know how hard it is to get back on a normal schedule when you’ve been thrown off for the better part of a week. If she wants to try to work tomorrow we should wake her up so she can go to bed at a normal time tonight.”

“You’re probably right.” Vines looks in on her friend again, then waves Cure to the stairs, “Okay, why don’t you go check on the fillies and I’ll wake her up.”

Nodding, he heads downstairs to find the girls struggling to not fall asleep. Knowing that they should probably stay awake he finds a book about numbers and counting, drags their cushions to either side of him, and reads to keep them occupied.

Vines heads into the room and gently noses at Amethyst’s neck. After a few pokes she beings stirring and, with a snort, grunts out a “Huh? Babe?” and sits up. “Oh, Vines. Hey, what time is it?”

“It’s almost four o’clock, Amy. How are you feeling?”

Sniffing a few times and shaking her head to wake up, she runs through a mental self-check, swallows a few times, takes a couple deep breaths, and looks to her friend and lover. “I feel great, actually. Better ‘n I’ve felt all week. It’s only four? I thought Cure said he’d need to poke me a half dozen times before I’d feel better.”

“He was surprised too. We’ve been coming up almost every half hour to check on you. Right after lunch he took the fillies to the park and let them wear themselves out, then carried them home. He checked on you when he got back and said you were almost fully recovered, but wasn’t sure exactly why. I think it’s his special talent, though.”

Thinking for a moment, Amethyst agrees with a nod. “Must be. Either that or what he did worked better than expected. I figured I’d still feel like shit fer days, though… even if the virus was gone it takes yer body a minute to stop thinking it’s sick.”

Stopping to meet Vines’ eyes she adds, “Yer son’s amazing, V. Like, legitimately amazing. You really should consider going public with that talent cause if he can learn and grow he’ll be the greatest doctor anypony’s ever heard of some day. Them elite snobs in Canterlot wouldn’t be able to do shit to ‘em without sparkin a riot.” Letting out a sigh, she starts to sit up, “Ah well, enough of that.” Climbing out of bed, Amethyst walks up to Vines and wraps her in a big hug. “I can’t thank you enough, V.” Kissing her gently on her forehead she adds, “but I’ll sure give it my best shot next time I get a chance,” she finishes with a deep nuzzle.

Vines can’t help but pink a little at the promise. “We’ll talk soon, Amy. With how Cure fixed me up this morning I’m definitely looking forward to tonight, though. Poor Deed is going to need Title to carry him into work tomorrow, just you wait.”

“Aww, you’re not going stallion-only on me, are ya?”

“Oh Amy,” she starts, grinding into her friend with a deep, intimate nuzzle, “you know I liked mares just as much as stallions clear back to grade school. Don’t you go acting all pouty on me.”

“Feeling better, I see,” a new voice interrupts them. “No, no… don’t stop on my behalf. This looks like it’s just getting started,” she laughs.

“Lemon! You almost gave me a heart attack. I thought my son had come back up to see how Amy was doing!”

Blowing out a snort, Lemon can’t hold back the laugh. “HA! Wouldn’t that have been something? “Dam, why were you hugging Mrs. Blossom so tight?” HAHAHA!”

“Oh come on, honey, that colt’s too young to be gettin the talk. Give him another year or two at least.”

“Actually…” both Lemon’s and Amethyst’s heads snap to Vines when she interrupted, “Deed kind of gave him the talk yesterday.” Shaking out a full-body shudder she adds, “It was horrifying!”

Lemon lets out another snort and asks, “Why in the world would you let that numbskull give your colt the talk? Especially when he’s only eight years old? He won’t even look at a little filly for a couple years yet, I bet. He’s probably convinced they have cooties or something,” she ends with a giggle, stopping only a moment later when the other two mares are looking distinctly uncomfortable with the suggestion. “Uhh… why are you both looking like that? He is only eight, right? I was sure…”

Vines chimes in first, “He’s only eight, but… well, he admitted last night he has a crush on a pegasus filly around his age. She was with him and some other children playing kickball at the park last night.” With a small smile and half-lidded eyes she continues, “He said she glowed like azure fire against the sunset when she took off to catch a ball.”

Vines can’t hold back the giggling and nearly breaks into dance when she adds, “I’m going to have so many grandfoals! Oh I can’t wait! Oh but not for at least six or seven more years! Oh what am I going to do! He’s such a smooth talker he’ll have them all eating out of his hooves by then. Deed said a dozen wives, and if he’s a successful doctor I could see it!”

Slightly afraid of their daydreaming friend, Lemon and Amethyst move off to the side.

Speaking lowly as to not disturb the daydreaming Vines, Lemon starts first, “Hey babe… you sound like you’re all better. Did the cold just break after I left or something? You were hacking up a lung this morning.”

“No. Listen, honey… before I can tell you how I’m better we need to knock her outta her daydream, okay?” Pausing, they both look at Vines who still is paying them no attention at all. With a matching set of grins they each move to a side and, as one, give Vines nips right where her neck meets her collarbone.

Letting out a yelp and recoiling away, Vines jumps all the way onto their bed before she realizes what’s going on. Lemon smirks at her and, with a swing of her hips and tail, saunders up to the bed. “Well we were just teasing, V, but if you’re dying to hop in bed…” she finishes, eyebrows wagging. Failing to hold the stare, she busts out laughing for a moment while Amethyst giggles in the background.

Vines scowls at her until she regains her composure. Lemon finally asks, “Okay, so seriously… what’s going on here? Why can’t you tell me why you’re feeling so much better? I know you didn’t run to the doctor to get some prescription or whatever, so what’s up?”

Amethyst turns to Vines and raises an eyebrow, which Vines nods to in response.

“The colt’s a full blown biomancer, Sweet. V didn’t have a clue. Stars, I don’t even know if the colt knows it, but he’s the real deal. He gave me a speech I’d expect out of a medical review board ‘bout informed consent and patient confidentiality, then gave me a couple taps, and bam… immune system is turned up to a thousand. I come up to take a nap ‘round one, still hacking my brains out, wake up a couple hours hours later feeling like a new mare.”

Lemon takes a full minute to parse that statement, her mouth half open and body frozen stiff the whole time. She finally snaps to and turns to Vines only to ask, “What the fuck, V? A biomancer? How the hell do a real estate pony and a gardener brew up … THAT? Did you actually get knocked up by your doctor or something?”

Vines, thoroughly offended, recoils from the accusation. She’s just about to yell at Lemon, but stops when she sees the upraised hoof.

“Easy, V, I’m joking. I know Deed’s his sire, I didn’t mean anything by it, I swear. Still… how in Celestia’s name does that happen? I saw he got his cutie mark. It’s some kinda staff with a snake wrapped around it. What does that have to do with biological manipulation?”

Still frustrated at the jab, Vines growls back, “It’s an ancient symbol for health, wellness, and healing. I don’t know, Lemon! Nopony consoluted me at the Cutie Mark Distribution Board when he got it, he just did!”

Curiosity piqued, Amethyst raises a hoof to get their attention. “Yanno, I didn’t think ta ask. How’d he get his mark anyway?”

“He was doing some kind of meditation thing… I don’t know, some kind of “look within yourself” thing and says he found a bruise on his leg from where he’d taken a fall. He says he willed itself to heal and it just did, next thing you know he’s got that symbol on his flanks and he’s working on making a better melon plant. He had no idea he could do anything like what he did with you until yesterday afternoon when he turned all the stuff in a blade of grass into blood.”

“Blood?” both Lemon and Amethyst ask in stereo.

“It’s not like it was bleeding, he says he just took what plants use for blood and tried to make it actual blood instead. He said he could probably come up with a way to help ponies that were injured so they will always have what they need if they’re hurt bad enough to need a transfusion.”

“Ohhhh” they once again reply in sync. This time Amethyst scowls at Lemon, who simply shrugs. “Not doing it on purpose, I swear,” Lemon insists.

“Well,” Amethyst starts, turning her scowl away from Lemon finally, “that sounds a lot better than “suddenly, blood” so if ya hafta tell that story again ya may wanna revise the delivery a smidge.” Lemon simply nods along, remaining silent.

“Yeah, it freaked me out at first too. Imagine you’re just sitting there with your foal and all the sudden the blade of grass they’re holding is bright red and smells like somepony got cut open. I almost jumped out of my coat before he gave me that incredulous look and told me to calm down,” she admits sheepishly.

“Meh, we’re getting off topic. So anyhow, the colt could basically turn you inside out with a touch.”

“AMY!” Vines shouts.

“What? He could. He wouldn’t ever do that, though. Has a heart of gold. I think he’ll be the greatest doctor the world has ever seen and we live two doors down from him! Isn’t that wonderful, Sweet?”

“Honey, I think you need to work on your sales pitch a bit. Still, from what I’m seeing he clearly does good work. I never would have expected you to be up and moving this fast. Stars, I figured you’d be laid up all weekend. Did he check on the fillies too?”

“Yep, he gave me the run down at lunch,” Amethyst answers. “He thinks you must have been exposed to it when you were carryin Cherry ‘cause she’s already immune to the virus. With you not showing symptoms after being around me, he says, that’s the most logical explanation. Lotus needed a booster but he probably did that after I fell asleep, right V?” At Vines’ nod she continues, “Great! I’ll tell ya, Vines, if there’s ever some plague or something we’re all crashing at yer place.”

“Great.” Vines replies, completely deadpanned.

Lemon perks up suddenly at a thought. “Oh! Hey! Could he fix these damned stretch marks? I swear I thought I was going to drop a whole tree when Cherry came out. You’d think I had a yak sire the filly the way I was almost dragging on the ground at the end.”

Nodding, Vines explains, “He probably could, actually. Not that you can really see them through your coat. He talked about doing cosmetic procedures like helping ponies lose weight by dissolving fat and passing it through the urine, so something as simple as tightening skin is probably pretty easy.”

“Stars above, V! I’ll tell ya what, you take Amethyst home with you and leave that colt here with me. We’ll call it a fair trade and I promise I’ll raise ‘em right.” Lemon barely finishes before a pillow pelts her in the side of the head. Ignoring it she continues, “Seriously, though. I’d pay him if he could. Maybe not much in bits with the store being closed a few days, but if he brings that little pegasus filly in I’ll be sure to hook a colt up.”

“See, now yer the one gettin off topic. We’re talking ‘bout V’s colt here and yer talking about tradin sweets fer a smoother belly.”

“Fine, fine. I don’t see what the big deal is. Colt’s got himself a great talent, if you ask me. Who knows how many ponies he’ll be able to help some day. And so what if his talent could be scary?” Lemon asks with a raised eyebrow.

“Almost every guard with a weapon cutie mark and even the princess herself could abuse their talent, but nopony does. Just tell him to keep it on the down low until he gets his medical degree and he should be all set,” she finishes with a nod. “But seriously, send ‘em my way and I’ll make it worth his while.”

Rolling her eyes, Amethyst ignores her wife’s request. “That’s basically what I said. I told V to either not tell a soul or go straight to the big boss lady herself and show off what amazing potential the colt has. Can you imagine the princess taking him on herself as a pupil? I haven’t heard of her taking a personal student for years, but anypony that she does take on is destined for greatness.”

Lemon grimaces and, with a shake of her head replies, “No… I wouldn’t do that. You know she’s only ever taken unicorns as students. The nobles in Canterlot would pitch a fit if she ever took on some no-name mud pony from the suburbs. They’d kill to get their foals to be the princess’s student, and the only thing that would keep him safe from there on is their fear of her personal wrath. I just don’t see her fighting for one of us like that.”

Amethyst nods in agreement. Vines just looks shocked and disappointed, but doesn’t speak up.

“Listen… we better go check on them. V, would the two of you like to stay for dinner?” Lemon offers, “I feel bad having you come over and helping out on such short notice, your son’s miracle healing aside,” she finishes, waving a hoof at Amethyst.

“No, I need to get home and get started on dinner too. If I don’t then Deed will probably start grazing and I don’t need him just eating my garden, the front yard, or whatever.” With an eye roll she adds, “You never know with that stallion...”

Laughing at the image the three mares make their way down the steps to find Cure giving a very basic math lesson to the two fillies. Using letter blocks he’s shown them how to do simple addition and subtraction, but he’s pretty confident the lesson won’t stick for very long. Mainly, it was just a way to keep them distracted and awake until Lemon has a chance to check on Amethyst and until his dam is ready to go home.

Seeing their mothers descending the stairs, both fillies run over to greet them with hugs and nuzzles. Vines walks up to Cure and picks him up in a big hug, nuzzling all down his neck and cheeks. “You ready to head home, sweetie?”

“Sure thing, dam. How about I give Amethyst one last check before we go, though, just to make sure she’s recovering and her “attack” cell count is where it should be?” Vines sets him down and he looks towards Amethyst.

“Sounds good,” Amethyst says, offering a hoof.

Touching her for a moment he breaks the connection and gives his diagnosis. “Well, you’re way better off than I figured you would be by now. There’s still a few viral cells in your system, but honestly we’re talking a tiny number at this point. I’m just amazed you’re not still coughing and sniffing. I guess we’ll just take it and move on, huh?”

Sitting down, Amethyst scoops Cure up in a big hug. “Works fer me. I can’t thank ya enough, Cure. Not just for the healing, but also for taking such good care ‘a the fillies.” Setting him down she nods at Cherry and Lotus who have taken up positions behind and on either side of him. “Looks like you got yerself a little fan club, colt. Yer gonna make a wonderful big brother once Title pops.”

“Ha! I’m looking forward to it. Have a good evening Mrs. Blossom, Mrs. Sweet. Bye Cherry, bye Lotus.” Gathering the few supplies, minus some treats from the garden she’d brought as gifts, Vines loads up the cart as everypony else trades goodbyes. Cure gets a round of hugs from the fillies and heads out the door just as she’s finishing strapping herself into the cart. Together they head home, looking forward to spending the evening with the rest of their family.

Chapter 15: Authority

Something has gone wrong. We don't seem to have an archived copy of that chapter.

Chapter 16: Evolve

Thursday, September 4th, 908 AB

“Right, well my first thought is basic improvements to senses. For example, because Drift called me out I know what a pegasus’ eyes look like. Their vision absolutely has to be superior to an earth pony or unicorn because otherwise they wouldn’t be able to see far enough and would crash. They may have better resistance to glare, reflections, and other things that would normally blind them when flying.”

“That actually sounds kind of neat. I could go for some better peepers, colt. Don’t forget about yer pa.”

“I never would, dad," Cure promises him. "I would also like to get a scan on several animals. Birds for the same reason, bats for hearing, and dogs for their sense of smell. You name it, there’s probably an animal that can do it and it’s all biological. And no, before you ask, I’m not going to do anything that’s visible. I don't want to look like some kind of monstrosity. I’ll look just like any colt does, though I've always preferred being taller.”

“Why does that feel… I dunno… wrong somehow?” Title asks. When nopony replied immediately she continued, “I mean, if I didn’t have perfect vision I’d definitely ask you to fix it, but the idea of having super senses seems odd for some reason, even I think that sounds really neat also.”

“I know it feels weird, and that’s not even getting into the really crazy stuff.” Pausing to consider, Cure makes his best guess, “I think it seems weird because you, rightly so, associate your body with your self. It comes down to whether you, the physical being, is the same as you, the existence. I’m not so sure they’re one-in-the-same anymore. I’m going to live this life like it’s my only one, but I’ll always wonder.”

“I… guess I can see how you could question that, given... yanno,” Title hesitantly agrees.

“Well, think about it like this… Memories are biologically saved information located in your brain, right?” At everypony’s slow nod he continues, “but they have to be more than just that because my brain was never on Earth. Unless you have one heck of a story to tell, dam, I think this noggin has been on Equus since day one.”

Nodding, Title points out “Yeah, you talked about that last night. Not in this context, though.”

“Right, well if souls exist, which I’m fairly certain they do, then there is some difference between “me” and the physical body I have. Making myself taller, having better eyes, or even something more significant won’t change that I am still me at the end of the day.”

“We’re just worried you’ll start behaving differently, sweetie. We don’t want you to think of yourself as not a pony anymore... not our little colt anymore.”

“I'll always be your son, dam, no matter what. Keep in mind that everypony behaves very differently after puberty compared to before and nopony bats an eye at that. Change is natural. Even if souls aren’t factored in, our bodies change all the time anyhow, so why not take those basic abilities our body has and improve them as much as possible?"

“I dunno, son. Somepony would probably question whether it really is natural if you’re actively changing some things.”

“But… by definition everything I can do is natural. I’m literally copying stuff from nature, just occasionally enhancing one aspect or another of it. Even the really weird stuff is still natural, it's just the circumstances needed for it to show up in the wild are almost impossible.”

“It’s a complex argument, Cure. I think as long as you keep in mind how other ponies will see you if what you’re doing is ever discovered then you’ll be okay. What “crazy stuff” were you talking about?”

“I know birds on Earth could navigate by the magnetic field of the planet. I’m assuming there’s some migratory bird species on Equus that do the same. I know snakes can detect heat, but I don’t think it’s with “vision” per se. There’s also a lot of venomous critters out there I’d love to analyze, if for no other reason than to be able to counter it.”

“Antivenoms are very expensive and always in high demand,” Title points out. “If you could make those every hospital in the country near a forested area would buy from you.”

“Huh. Well there’s an income stream I hadn’t considered. Good call, mom.”

“Sure thing, Cure. I’m thinking we need a trip to the zoo next weekend. They have all kinds of snakes and bugs and stuff.”

“I mentioned that to dam earlier in the week. I’m all for it. Next Saturday?”

“What do you think, honey? Babe? Are you both interested?”

Both Vines and Deed nod in agreement. “Sounds good, babe. I’m not sure how many you’ll get to pet, though, sport. We’ll have to play it by ear.”

I wonder if I should tell them I don’t have to touch something to use my mark on it, it just uses slightly less magic that way. I guess I never did explain the whole “two meter” aura thing to them.

“Awesome. I doubt they’ll have a cockatrice, but who knows. I can’t imagine that is a biological function, but maybe they have saliva that can unpetrify a pony or something. Who knows, there may be a biological part in their eyes that acts like a casting focus similar to how unicorn horns do. If so, I may be able to replicate it.”

“Why would you want to?” Deed asks.

“Because it’s the ultimate non-lethal defense? Sure it could give away the game, but it seems like a last ditch move either way. All my other “safe” defenses need proximity at least. Well, right now they do.”

“But son… Defend yourself from what? Are you thinking of joining the military some day?”

“From who-knows-what. Those cockatrices aren’t just in zoos after all. There’s crazy things all over this planet and I don’t expect to spend my whole life in a city… not that those are totally safe anyhow. I assume ponies do get mugged, right?”

Deed reluctantly nods in acceptance with a muttered, “ehh, I guess so…”

“And as far as the military is concerned… I have regrets about not joining the military before, but here, I dunno, maybe for a few years? I wouldn’t mind traveling and meeting new ponies, seeing things I may never see otherwise. It would be an experience, at least." With a shrug he adds, "I’ve got time, so why not?"

Shaking himself out of thought, Cure says, “I know there’s a lot of neat things in this world and I’d love to someday see all… well, most of them. I’ve got a long way to go though.”

With a small smile and a little clap he adds, “I still haven’t even scanned any unicorns! I did tease one to the point she turned pink today, though. Good times.”

“Oh my… another little filly you’re interested in, honey?”

“Not… really? I mean, she is cute, but I was really just giving her a hard time because she had a slip of the tongue,” he finishes with a snicker.

At his dam’s raised eyebrow he explains, “She and two of her friends came across me while I was watching the fillies at the park. They asked if I could get ice cream with them, but I was foalsitting, so I couldn’t. When I said I didn’t have any bits anyhow she said something like she only has enough for a cone, but if she had extra she would treat and I could make it up to her later,” he finishes while cracking up.

“Aww, that’s cute! What’s her name, sweetie?”

“Dawn Glow. You should have seen how much she glowed too! HA!”

Shaking his head, Deed asks, “Stars he has another one… what’d you do to this one, son? Compare her coat to the sunset or something?”

“HAH! No, but you’re pretty close. I figured since her name is Dawn…”

“Sunrise… you compared her coat to the sunrise, didn’t you?” Title asks.

“I leaned close and whispered, “Such a shame, Sunrise. I would have loved to see how you made me repay you.” HAHAHA!”

“HA! Good one, son. Poor filly probably didn’t know what hit ‘er!”

Title is cracking up on her cushion while Vines just giggles and covers her mouth with a hoof. Cure finishes the story, saying, “The best part! As soon as I dropped that line she glowed red just like the rising sun! Cherry and Lotus came up not two seconds later and pulled me away to push them on the swings! I had no idea they were on their way over! HAHA! Couldn’t have timed it better if I tried!”

After a moment of laughter the family finally calmed down. Title, being the second most inquisitive member, finally feels the need to ask. “Hey Cure… I don’t want to offend you or anything, but it seems to me that the first two fillies you’ve ever shown an interest in are a pegasus and a unicorn. You’re not going to hurt anypony’s feelings here, but are you not attracted to earth ponies?”

Scoffing at the thought he answers, “Pfft, no, that has nothing to do with anything. Glacial caught my eye because her coat was so striking and unusual. Dawn approached me. Don’t get me wrong, I don’t find her unattractive or anything, but the… you know,” rolling his hoof a few times, he continues, “the spark or whatever… it’s not really there with her."

Shaking his head in thought he adds, “Maybe if we got to know each other better I’d find I’m attracted more to her mind, but I don’t know her well enough to know. I don’t think I really have a preference. It’s definitely less physical than mental with me, but physical attraction still factors in there.”

“Huh… okay, I mean I don’t care either way. My parents probably would, but I don’t."

Pausing to think for a moment about the fillies he played kickball with last night he corrects himself, “Actually, I may have a slight thing for pegasi, but I think that’s probably has a lot to do with my human memories associating feathers with beauty.”

“Humans have feathers, sweetie? You never mentioned having wings before.”

“No, but one of the major religions of the world, especially where I lived, depicted their god’s messengers as winged humans. Over the centuries they showed up a lot in art and, being God’s messengers, were always painted or sculpted to be basically the definition of human beauty. After all, they were hand-crafted by a god, they’re perfect, right? Culturally a winged human, or angel, was often associated with beauty as much as they were associated with the religious part of it.”

“I could see how you’d begin to associate feathers with beauty,” Title agrees.

“Yeah, I think it’s just purely in my head though. That and, like I keep saying, the photochromic effect is really eye-catching. You’ll all notice it when you see her, especially since I pointed it out. Assuming she doesn’t avoid me for being weird or something, that is.”

“Oh, honey, she wouldn’t do that. I know fillies love to be complemented.”

“I’m sure they do, but I bet it can also be uncomfortable, especially with how young we are. It could go either way, I’m fine with it. I mean I won’t hit puberty for a couple years, so it’s not like I have any sexual attraction to anypony at all. Who knows what I’ll find attractive once the hormones all start flowing.”

“Well, I’m just relieved to hear you’re taking a mature approach to it, Cure.”

“Of course. I can honestly say though, I don’t think I have any particular attraction to unicorns. I think the tendency to be less physically active is kind of a turn-off, really. I was always attracted to more physically fit women, so it makes sense that carries over. There is one earth pony filly who is too far on the “muscular” side for me, though. She could rip me in half.”

“Well just don’t limit yourself, sweetie.”

“I wouldn’t. Unrelated, but there are some pretty unflattering legends about unicorns on Earth. I don’t really know all of them, but they don’t paint a nice picture.”

“Oh? Do tell,” Title insists.

“The most common one I ever heard was that a unicorn, presumably a male, would only ever show interest in a human if she were female and a virgin. I honestly don’t know much about the stories, but something like… a unicorn was a vicious, magical beast that could only be pacified by a virgin.”

“I’ve heard variants where there was some less than consensual sex involved too, but I don’t think that was part of the mythology. The whole myth is probably a religion thing, honestly. Almost any time you hear a human talk about virginity they are regurgitating some tripe about purity they heard at church or whatever.”

With a shrug Title explains, “In noble families they make a big deal about preserving the virginity of their children, but that’s mainly so they can maintain control over inheritance and make sure they can find suitable husbands and wives later on. They mostly don’t want unexpected foals, even though it’s only an issue if they have sex around estrus seasons.”

“It was a big thing culturally for humans, but that’s likely because human women can become pregnant year-round. Their fertility cycle is a monthly thing. I told them about it the other day before you got home, so I’ll spare you the details. It was only in the last sixty or seventy years, roughly, that cheap and effective contraceptives became available and humanity could safely bone without worrying about gettin knocked up.”

“Cure!” Vines shouts in a scolding voice.

“What? I know what sex is, stop acting like I’m “only” an eight year old. At least in my memories I’ve probably had sex more times than the three of you combined… a few times over.”

Vines looks like she’s about to cry at the loss of her child’s innocence.

“Dam, really. Come on. This, of all things, upsets you? Why?”

“I think yer dam just wants to make sure she’s not losing her innocent little colt, son. I have to say, I’m usually one for a good joke or two, but it is jarring hearing that come out of your son’s mouth. It would probably be a little odd even if you were physically an adult,” Deed explains.

“I’m sorry, dam. I don’t want to upset you.” Getting up, he walks over to Vines and wraps around her neck in a hug while nuzzling into her.

“I would much rather be honest and have a mature conversation than try to pretend I don’t have the memories, though. Tell me the truth, would you want me to pretend I’m an ignorant child or, when we’re alone as a family like this, actually be myself?”

Wrapping around him, she holds him in a tight hug while she considers it.

“Keep in mind, dam. At some point every parent has to acknowledge that their child has grown up. If you’re really uncomfortable now you will still have to accept it eventually. And sex, just like anything else, is a part of life. Treating it as something special, or worse, something dirty or shameful, is very unhealthy.”

Leaning in close so only his dam can hear him, he very lowly whispers in her ear, “I know you’ve gotta be wondering how it’ll be now that you’re all better. Find out tonight. Give dad a good time.” Giving her a quick last squeeze he goes back to his cushion while Vines turns several shades of red.

Shooting his son a curious look, Deed simply raises an eyebrow when Cure winks at him. Cure tilts his head at his dam, then the stairs, then nods. Deed simply smiles in gratitude. He has no idea what he’s grateful for exactly, but he’s definitely looking forward to probing for information later.

“I think it’s very important that we all be comfortable having a mature conversation about any topic, and as a doctor I’ll be helping ponies with that a lot. Especially if I ever decide to get a studding license or something.” Mulling it over for a moment he adds, “I think I probably will since I can guarantee conception, an extremely healthy foal, and likely, whatever tribe or gender the dam will want. That’s not something I bet most sires can offer.”

“It is strange to hear, especially so young, but that’s a vital job for all ponies, Cure. I’m a little… wait, did you say you can guarantee tribe and gender?” Title pauses mid-sentence to ask.

“Oh! You weren’t there for that either. Yeah, they gave me the rundown on studding and I mentioned I could probably make it so a sire is only producing either male or female sperm. I haven’t tried and, obviously, I’m too young to experiment on myself, so I’m not sure.”

Deed and Vines both smile to Title who’s struck speechless. Oblivious to her plight, Cure continues, “It should be a lot less complicated than the white blood cell thing I did though. I could basically run around the country and fix the gender imbalance problem in a few decades, probably.”

“Do not tell a soul about that!” She vehemently insists.

“Duh, I won’t be telling anypony anything about my abilities for the better part of a decade anyhow. We already had this talk, too.”

“Okay… well, when I’m ready for a second foal I would really like a colt. I’ve always wanted a colt of my own.”

“I think most dams do. The vast majority never get it. I can’t promise, but I’m confident you will.”

“Yep, the colt’s gonna add an addendum to the ‘ol contract, then I’ll deliver the deed and you can rest assured of occupancy right at closing.”

Everypony looks at Deed with varying levels of disappointment and pity.

“Bah! Forget ya’all, I thought it was funny.”

“I thought you didn’t get the deed until after closing?” Vines asks.

“Either way, honey, we’re both stuck with the Deed now, so we can just try to make the best of it.”

“Whatever,” Deed huffs.

“I still love ya, pa. Once I get older we can go out drinking and doing stupid crap together. If I can stop or slow down aging like I expect-”

“WHAT?” Title, again, interrupts mid-sentence with a shout.

“Ahh… yeah, I gave dam the explanation on that this morning. Real quick, aging is a biological function that happens when your cells are replaced. Each time a cell is replaced the new one is slightly inferior because it’s a copy of the last one. Since it’s a biological function I may some day be able to stop it. Or slow it a whole lot. Anyhow-”

“No, wait a second, son. You can’t just throw that out there like it’s nothing and move on.”

“Welcome to my every day this week.” Vines mumbles loud enough for everypony to hear her. Noticing their stares she adds, “What? It’s been amazing, but this is what he does all day long. I swear if he couldn’t probably fix it I’d be afraid of having a heart attack. I’m not mad, sweetie, it really has been wonderful, it’s just… a lot, you know?”

“Oh I get it. It’s a lot for me too. I never expected life to lead me here, I can tell you that. Seriously, though, I don’t have anything useful yet, you two, so don’t get your hopes up. I just thought of it this morning. We had the “don’t tell anypony” conversation and everything too,” he finishes, waving away the concern with a hoof.

“Any other planet-shattering things we should expect, son?”

“Umm…” Cure pauses in thought for a solid minute or two, ignoring the rising tension from the adults. “Not off the top of my head. I have a lot going on up here, though, so until a topic comes up that sparks a memory I’m mostly just a regular colt, you know.”

“Riiiight…” Title eyes him with disbelief.

“Oh! I did have a thought.” All the adults brace for impact. “I want to find a gym or something. I don’t know of one in town, is there one?”

With a relieved exhale Deed answers, “Not in this town, son. There’s several nice ones a stop away in Baltimare though. What’s on your mind? Want to start working out?”

“No, I want all of us to go there so you three can work out. I don’t need to. I can encourage muscle growth, but I’m too young to do very much or I could overdo it before puberty begins. Light exercise is fine for my age, but I don’t even need to do that with my cheating.”

“So unfair…” Title mumbles.

“It may be, but you’ll all benefit from this just as much as I do. Have any of you done strength training before?”

Standing up and flexing, his dad answers first. "No, all this muscle is from working on family farms growing up like Aunt Bean’s," he says, studiously ignoring three sets of eye rolls.

Getting head shakes from both Vines and Title, Cure explains, “Muscles grow when worked. You lift something heavy, your existing muscle gets worn down a tad, basically. It heals slightly stronger. That’s the body saying “This part was inadequate, let’s reinforce it so it doesn’t wear out as easily next time.” Normally you’re sore for days while that's happening, right?”

“Yep, every year for the first few days on the farm were awful.”

“That’s because you lost some muscle from lack of use over the other seasons. Well, I can skip that step. You can skip that step. Once I get the proper way the muscles should grow we don’t even need to go to the gym. I can see how they are now, but I don’t know how they should grow until I see how the body is doing it, so I don’t want to tell it to do something wrong.”

“Can’t you tell if something is wrong, though? You could with Amy earlier.”

“Yeah, but injuries and foreign viruses are different from saying that somepony’s own muscle just isn’t shaped exactly how it should be. There’s probably a point where something shows up as “wrong” to me, but “this muscle is stronger than the opposing one in the muscle group” may not be something I can detect. I’m wary of experimenting without a model to follow.”

“Okay, that seems reasonable, honey.”

“So what I propose is that every week or two we go to Baltimare, hit the gym hard for a few hours, then either on the way back or when we get home I see what your body is doing and turn the dial up to eleven. Ideally you’ll get many times over the benefit a single gym visit would bring with none of the soreness afterwards. Pretty soon the gym part won’t be necessary. It shouldn’t take more than a few trips before I have the growth pattern figured out.”

“Amy would like that.” Vines mumbled absentmindedly, instantly drawing Cure’s attention.

Cure noticed that while Vines pinked and froze stock-still at his look, Deed and Title both simply smiled and nodded.

“Are… you all intimate with each other?”

Eyes growing huge, Vines stammers unsure what to say.

“HA! Way to spill the beans, honey. Yes, son, we have all been together a few times. Not for a while though. I’m surprised you never figured it out when we got together over the years.”

“I was far less observant back then. Well, whatever, it’s not like I have a problem with it as long as it’s not some dark, family ruining secret.” Snapping his attention to his dad he feels compelled to ask, “Umm, dad… are you Cherry’s and Lotus’ sire?” Holding up both hooves in a placating manner he adds, “I don’t care either way, honest, I’m just curious… Lotus called me big brother and I just wondered if it was true.”

“No, son. They had those two when they were living in Fillydelphia. I have no idea who their sire is, or even if it’s the same stallion. Given their colors mirror each other, I would assume so, but it’s generally considered bad form to ask unless there’s a reason to.”

“Oh. I’m sorry, I didn’t realize that it was taboo to ask that.”

Waving a hoof, Deed explains, “No, it’s okay. I don’t mind at all. It’s perfectly acceptable in this scenario, you were wondering if they were family. Don’t worry your cute little head, son. You won’t find any surprise siblings out there, though you never know if you may bump into a cousin. Like we told ya, listen to your nose. The nose knows, son. Just don’t ask about other ponies' sires unless there’s a valid reason you need to know.”

“Sure, I will. Anyhow, there’s a few limits to the whole exercise thing. We obviously want to keep the speed reasonable. Someone would probably get suspicious if you leave on Friday looking normal and walk in on Monday ripped like a marble statue. Also, I have to pull from somewhere, so if you’re low on fat stores I can’t tell your body to build more muscle.”

“So you’re basically going to turn any fat we have straight into muscle?” Title asks.

“Yes, but the body does need some fat, so I have to be careful about how much I take. It’s probably even more important for you since you’re with foal. I don’t know how it is for mares, but with human females anything below about twenty percent starts losing what most would consider a feminine body shape. For mares that’s probably much lower, human women have larger fat deposits around their mammaries and store a lot more fat in their hips, legs, and butts too.”

“What about stallions?” Deed asks.

“We’re probably fine down to five percent or less, but you’re going to look very muscular below fifteen percent or so. If you think of the most ripped, muscular, lean stallion you’ve ever seen, he’s probably somewhere around eight to ten percent body fat. It may be higher, all my numbers are based on what I know about humans.”

“What percent are we at now, Cure?”

“I can see muscle and fat, but I don’t have a way to weigh it. Completely hypothetically, I would guess dad is around twenty. You are probably just a tiny bit higher, and dam, no offense but you don’t have to walk to and from work every day like mom does, so you could be higher, but you also work hard in that garden which is more physical, so I may be wrong.”

Vines pouts at Cure for pointing out anything about her weight again.

Pointing a hoof at her, Cure says, “Don’t give me that look. Doctor mode, remember? I’ll tell you the truth whether you like it or not and yer not gonna guilt me over it. You’re all in fantastic health anyhow. Do any of you want to be taller or anything? Once puberty hits I plan on aiming for at least a hoof taller than dad, but even though you’re all done growing I think I could slowly push you up a little bit at a time.”

“I wouldn’t mind being a half hoof taller or so. Between that and putting on some muscle that sounds fantastic, son. I don’t think your moms would be sad at that either, at least until all the other mares start askin to join the family, that is.”

“I’m fine with my height as-is. I don’t see any advantage to being taller,” Title proclaims. Vines nods in agreement.

“Okay. Hey, speaking of mares joining the family, I’ve never really had that dynamic explained to me before. All my memories are from a nearly completely monogamous culture, but the gender ratio is one to one, so… yeah,” he finishes with a shrug.

Title takes the initiative to explain, “It’s not very complex. A stallion and a mare get into a relationship," she explains while touching hooves together. "If they’re going to stay together they get a marriage certificate and make it official. If additional ponies want to join them they get to know each other then all decide as a group. Some ponies are only into mares or stallions, regardless of which they are, so even in a marriage not all ponies are necessarily intimate with each other.”

“Ah… okay, the term marriage has an actual definition of one man and one woman for humans. At least, in the culture I belonged to. One man with many women was typically referred to as a harem and was something most guys thought they wanted. Jealousy and insecurity made it unlikely to happen, though.”

“Those can be issues, but me and your dam love each other very much in addition to loving your sire, so there’s no need to worry about that,” she explains, to the nods of both Deed and Vines. “If, for example, Lemon and Amethyst wanted to join our marriage we would all get together, discuss what we wanted from the union, then decide as a group if we wanted to go that route. It can strain existing marriages if, for example, Amy wanted in but Lemon didn’t.”

“So… how do you deal with that?”

“Hopefully, like mature adults,” Deed answers before Title can.

Nodding, Title explains, “Exactly. It doesn’t always happen that way and ponies can end up heartbroken. Ideally, they would have discussed that in depth before even approaching our family, though. If we all decided to join together Cherry and Lotus would be considered your siblings, even if not biologically, and we’d all be each others’ wives and your sire would be all our husband.”

“What if you wanted to say yes and dam didn’t?”

“It gets complicated, unfortunately. Your sire, dam, and I would need to discuss it and come to an agreement. Usually it needs to be unanimous, otherwise feelings will get hurt. They probably will either way in that scenario, but families don’t usually join like that unless everypony loves everypony else. It is possible, like I said, that one of the mares only likes stallions, though.”

“Okay… I would assume then that the best way to address that is to have intimacy separately from the group?”

“I guess. It’s up to the family, but either that or they just limit intimate contact to the stallion and the mare even if other mares are present. It gets even more confusing if there’s more than one stallion, unless the stallions are intimate with each other as well, I suppose.”

“Have you ever known of a scenario where… well, just because an example is easier, let’s say Lemon and Amethyst said, “We really like Deed, we only want to marry him” and then, the stallion is almost like shared between the two sets of mares? It could work, but only if the two sets of mares really got along well either way.”

Deed speaks up first. “I’ve heard of that happening, son… but I’ve never actually seen it. It would cause a huge problem if one group wanted to move or something and the other didn’t. In that scenario it’s probably best just to sign studding forms or be friends with an agreement on how the foals would be raised. There is a point where it’s just too complex to work right.”

Vines nods and speaks up next, “I’ve heard of it too, but it feels like that wouldn’t be as loving of a family at that point. That sounds more like a business agreement than a marriage to me. I think your sire is right, foal support agreements or a studding agreement would probably work better there. You’re less likely to have heartbroken ponies if the expectations are laid out early.”

“Okay, so this is a little more complex than human relationships, but as long as everypony enters into it with honesty and good intentions I can see how it could work out fine. Is it the same in other tribes? I thought unicorns were mostly monogamous like humans.”

“They are, from what you’ve described. It’s actually a very sad situation. Many unicorn mares go unmarried and can only have foals from studding contracts. I’m not sure why that is; if nature wanted us to be monogamous you’d think the gender ratio would be closer. Some just up and leave their family to get away from the stigma of being unmarried.”

“Yeah, I’m still hung up on why there's a gender imbalance. I don’t know of any mammals on Earth that weren’t one to one. It’s too likely to lead to extinction if there’s not enough males and something happens to the few you have." Cure rubs at his temples in frustration. "It happens naturally during evolution. If anything I would expect more males since males can produce so many more offspring than females!”

“Yeah, professional studs that produce more colts can make a lot of money each season. The only limiting factor is… well… how many times they can go before the season ends. A single mare can, in theory, book a stud for the whole season, so a contract can be worth tens of thousands of bits if a noble house absolutely needs a male heir and can find a stud that is likely to deliver.”

“Huh… I could retire in two years, probably. The first year to establish I can produce only colts, then the second year to land several guaranteed conception contracts. Definitely not the job I planned for, but if nothing else I could use the money to fund my research and travel needs.”

“You wouldn’t be able to get a bunch of contracts for one season, though, Cure. They can’t tell if a mare is pregnant until at least a few days.”

“Ah. Well, I could still have eight or ten at a time even if I have to visit them for several days in a row. Those would be busy days though.”

All three adults nearly fall off their cushions at once with a collective squawk.

“Uhh, son. Not to say I don’t believe in you, but… well, after a couple rounds… wait. You wouldn’t need to wait to recover would you?”

"Sweet Celestia..." Title mumbles.

“I don’t see why I would. It’s purely a biological process.” Pausing to think for a moment, he asks, “This is weird to ask, but are studs expected to ensure the pleasure of the mare too, or is it a “get it in, get it done, and get out” arrangement?”

Recovering before Vines can object, Title answers, “I don’t know exactly, but I think conception is a lot more likely if… you know, the mare enjoys it too? This is such a weird conversation, never mind having it with an eight year old.”

“This is just a different kind of financial planning, mom," he answers with a smirk. "Anyhow, I should be able to guarantee conception every time if a mare's ovulating, and I'll know exactly when it happens, so if a contract literally says “knock her up and get out of here” then I could be in and out in like ten minutes. Depending on how much fun the mare wants, maybe forty if I shower real good before I leave. Gotta maintain hygiene after all.”

“Son, I think you may be underestimating how long it takes to get a lady properly ready for that.”

“HA! No, I’m not. Once I learn what areas to stimulate and how much to I could give a mare an orgasm with a hoofbump.”

“Oh my Celestia…”
“Stars…”
“Damn, son”

Cure can't help but laugh at his parents' reactions. “Yeah, those will be some fun years for some lucky mares.”

“Got me feelin a little inadequate here, son.”

“Oh please, if you and I are interested in the same mare then something’s gone horribly, horribly wrong. Besides, we all know I’m cheating as hard as a cheat could ever cheat.”

“Well, just for appearance’s sake, you may want to plan for a little more than a thirty minute hoofbump session when the time comes,” Title explains.

“I dunno, mom. With the right stimulation most mares wouldn’t last more than five minutes before they pass out. That would be pretty mean, though." Ignoring the squawk of "What?!" from his dam he explains, "I think fifteen to twenty would be the ideal to shoot for. Enough not to overstimulate all at once, but not too slow that they aren’t suitably impressed.”

“That can cause you to pass out?” Vines asks, drawing everyone’s gaze.

“In human females it can. Achieving orgasm releases endorphins into the system. That’s the hormone that gives you that euphoric feeling. The more intense the orgasm, the more endorphins are released. A particularly powerful one, or several in a row, can knock a woman out.”

“Very inadequate…”

"Hey, is it illegal to cover or change your mark or appearance?"

Just rolling with the subject change at this point, Title answers first. "Not that I'm aware of. Why?"

"Well I'm just thinking that doing what I was talking about would definitely send up some red flags in the system… err, is "red flags" the same here?" at everypony's eye roll he continues, "Jeez just making sure idioms and phrases are the same."

"So far almost everything else has been, or we can sort it out by context. Just assume they will and we'll ask if you say something we don't recognize." Title explains.

Waving a hoof, Cure says, "Fine, fine. Well I think it would be wise to use a disguise to pull this off simply because I can see somepony hunting down a colt-only producing stud. Maybe not for nefarious reasons, but still, I’d want to keep my anonymity.”

“I dunno about illegal, but I’m betting the licensing process requires you to disclose your identity. Remember I didn’t want to go through all the hoops myself, son. It’s not just a two page questionnaire… they test everything about your… uhh… capabilities. A disguise or fake mark will get caught, no doubt."

“Well I’m talking about a little more thorough disguise than slapping a patch over my mark and putting on a fake mustache or something. I could basically invent a new identity, it depends on what kind of paperwork is used for identification and a few other things.”

“Oh they’ll definitely want to see your government ID card and your birth registration forms. You’d need the latter to get your ID. You don’t have one yet… you’re not required to have one until you’re fifteen since you have your cutie mark. The latest you can wait is eighteen.”

“So, legally you’re considered an adult at fifteen with your mark or eighteen otherwise?”

“Yep. You could get your ID earlier once you have your mark, though, since they’re all unique to the pony. They just require it at eighteen for unmarked ponies because they try to wait for a mark to show up. Some ponies just take longer, but they still need an ID for work and stuff.”

“Wow, I bet that puts a lot of pressure on ponies past fifteen that don’t have their mark yet…”

“Like you wouldn’t believe. I told you my story. I was losing sleep and everything. It was horrible being the last pony in my class without mine.”

“Ahh, yeah… you did mention that. Sorry.”

Title shrugs, “No problem, Cure. I know you didn’t mean anything by it. And you’re not wrong.”

“Well, either way, unless these IDs can be faked easily,” all three adults are shaking their heads no, “... let me guess, anti-fraud enchantments?” to which they all nod yes, “Crap. Well then that may sink that whole idea unless the board vehemently protects the identity of their studs, but I see “royal decree” trumping that no matter what.”

“I’m not sure about that, son. Nobles probably wouldn't get anywhere... well, legitimately, at least. I’m sure if the princess herself walked in the door they’d give her whatever she wants, but there’s no harm checking into the process. They do a lot to protect studs’ identities just to keep them safe from unscrupulous families or whatnot."

Title nods and adds, “Remember, Cure, the country needs stallions to have as many foals as possible to grow. Each stallion should, ideally, have at least six foals, preferably with one or more being colts. That’s more than a lot of married families can afford.”

“Really? I would assume there would be tax incentives and other government services dedicated to encouraging bigger families, then.”

“There are, but money isn’t always the only problem. Age, health, or just a lack of a desire to have and raise more foals have an effect too. Plus not everypony likes to be getting by on help from the government.”

“True… raising kids isn’t easy. Not everypony can be as lucky as you are, after all,” Cure agrees, brushing his hoof against his chest with a nod.

Rolling her eyes at him, Title explains, “There’s a lot of stallions that have no or very few foals. In centuries past they’ve had to occasionally issue royal decrees mandating stallions produce foals. Nopony was happy with it, but when you’re talking about the nation surviving or not, nopony can really argue against it either.”

“Weird,” Cure says, “It sounds an awful lot like a military draft, almost.”

“You’re not too far off, champ. It hasn’t happened since the last big war with the griffons, though. There were a lot of losses on both sides before the princess herself stepped in and ended it. Enough stallions got killed or maimed that there was a panic afterwards.”

“I just said that earlier! That’s why nature almost always has a one-to-one birth rate!”

“Well, we don’t, so as a species we do what we have to in order to survive,” Title explains.

“Yeah, well… I’m not super optimistic about the whole “stud for a few years and never have to work again” plan then. That may need revising in a few years when we have more info.”

“Poor thing… his first get rich quick scheme put on hold. Whatever shall he do?” Title asks unsympathetically.

“Beg you for money instead? We never did discuss exactly what my allowance would look like.”

“How’s this sound, son. I’ll set aside some bits, you use it as needed but keep it reasonable, then as it gets low you say the word and we’ll square up again?”

“Sounds good, dad. I doubt I’d spend more than a few bits a week anyhow. I’m only interested in it for social purposes anyway. It’s not like I can actually overeat when I can control what happens to my own fat stores so easily. If anything I’d probably waste more on greens than treats since, apparently, we break those down into proteins.”

“I thought you said you would need more meat for that as you hit puberty. What about my fish cravings?”

“It must be something in the oils, maybe like… omega fats or something that you’re craving. Humans can’t process greens into protein, hence my mistake, but ponies apparently can. It was in the dietary book and, gross as it sounds, I’ve watched my own digestion to be sure… so probably no more meat for me. I didn’t even enjoy it like I used to.”

“Different taste buds?”

“Yep. It was okay, but just okay.”

“Son, I have a question about all those stories you keep talking about.”

“Okay. What’s up?”

“Well it seems odd, you know… you know all about the history, these villains, the future, but… how do I say this?”

Title jumps in at Deed’s pause. “Details. He’s missing a ton of details. It’s probably because, like he said, the stories were aimed at foals. I bet they left out a lot, didn’t they?”

“Right,” Cure begins, “they certainly never covered breeding or population shortages or dietary requirements or anything like that. They even went out of their way to show human-analogous things that make no sense. Is there such a thing as hay bacon, for example?”

Cure knows the answer as soon as he sees Title mouthing the words as if they’re a foreign concept.

“What the heck is hay bacon, son? Is that some kind of hay dish?”

“I have no idea, dad. It was something they showed but it never made sense. Bacon is a piece of meat from pigs, but you can’t just throw the word “hay” in front of it and say, “oh look, ponies are just like us!” because it doesn’t freaking work that way.”

“Okay, so basically a lot of things were missing from your stories and a lot of other things are close, but not quite right… right?”

“Well… there’s also that I only watched the show with Alanna. I’ve only really seen a few pieces of the overall story.”

“Uhh, son… you’ve been throwing out a lot of trivia beyond “a few pieces” if I’m not mistaken.”

“Yeah, that’s because while she was watching the show I would sometimes look things up so I could follow along. Remember the bookshelf? It’s like I used that instead of actually watching the show.”

“So, everything we’ve discussed as far as the future could be completely wrong?” Deed asks.

“Yep, especially since I’m here now. Ever heard of the prediction paradox?”

“Nope.” Deed turns to look at Title and Vines they both simply shrug.

“It means that if you know the future and you do anything at all with that knowledge, you’ve made that knowledge less useful because the future has changed. The only way everything would have happened the way it was going to happen, assuming it even would, is if I had done nothing.”

“Nothing?” Vines asks.

“Nothing. No telling you all about my memories, no teaching you about magic, no experiments. Nothing. And even then, I would just behave differently than I would without the memories. Who knows, maybe I’m the great, great, great grandfather of an important character in the story and now I’ll never meet their grandma.”

“Oh my…”

“Plus, you remember the whole multiverse conversation we had that first night?” At everypony’s nod he explains, “I have no idea where this world falls in that whole mess. I don’t even care. I’m gonna enjoy life and make arrangements for the things I can and roll the dice. Live life to the fullest, y’all, cause there ain’t nothin guaranteed to nopony, thank Harmony for that.”

At the lull in the conversation, Cure noted Vines was still glancing at Deed every so often. Making eye contact with his sire, he quickly glanced to her, then back.

“Well, how about I give you all some alone time until the sun starts going down? I’m sure dam could use a little break from me stressing her out with my crazy ideas, and, aside from going to the park with the fillies, I’ve barely moved all day. Do you mind if I get a small advance on that allowance and I’ll go see if I can run into anypony I know, maybe get a treat or something.”

“Sure, son, go grab your bags and I’ll fetch my wallet.”

“Oooh! If you get any candy, see if you can get me some caramels!”

“I wouldn’t mind some sweet chocolates if you could, sweetie.”

“Sure thing. Dad, anything for you?”

“Meh, just whatever. You know us stallions are easy to please.”

Cure runs to his room, straps his bags on, and heads back down. Getting some bits from his father, he heads out the door and towards the park, intent on finding something to entertain himself with for the next couple hours.

Sitting together, huddled into a pile, Deed leans over and nips at Vines’ ears and mane. Title, exhausted from the busy work day, just lays close enough to touch hips and otherwise relaxes.

“So, my little dandelion…” he starts, working his way down, then up her mane while occasionally nipping at the sides of her neck.

“Mmm?”

Standing, Deed once again puts his weight on her from the side, wrapping around her neck and chest.

“Seems to me the colt felt like you needed some extra attention for some reason,” he says, running his hoof down her side.

“I’ve been feeling a bit needy since I spent time with Amy.”

“Oh?”

“She… suggested we get together soon. She was very excited at the idea, in fact.”

“Well, we don’t want to leave her wanting, do we dear?” he asks, gently nipping at her ear.

“Mmm no, nopony should be left wanting, honey,” she agreed, tail twitching even more.

“Well, I have my priorities, so unfortunately Amy will just have to for tonight.”

“She sure will,” Title agreed, “but I don’t think you should keep your wife waiting too long, ya know?”

“Oh, no… we don’t want that.” Clamping gently onto an ear, Deed lowly growls, “Now you get that tail upstairs and out of my way, you hear me?”

“Yes dear.”

Climbing off of her, she immediately runs up the stairs. Shooting a questioning glance at Title, he gets a shrug and a wave towards the stairs. Not sure what’s changed with his wife, he heads up figuring he might as well take advantage of the opportunity.

Title, somewhat drifting off, is awakened a few minutes later to the euphoric moans and grunts she hears echoing down the stairs. Ears perked, she can hear that there’s movement in the bedroom, but nothing seems unusual until she hears a low moan, slowly increasing in pitch into a shout. Suddenly very interested, she heads up the steps, pausing only when the moaning shout turns into a wall-shaking, deep throated scream, then silence.

Entering the room she finds Deed with about the biggest grin she’s ever seen on him. Underneath him, Vines appears to be completely catatonic.

“What in the hay did you do to her?”

“Nothing unusual, I swear! She hasn’t been like that in years, babe. I think she actually passed out.” Petting on her for a moment, she doesn’t move at all. “Huh… the colt was right. Well I’ll be..." After a second of thought he asked Title, "Umm, you don’t think she asked him to… I dunno, do something, do you? They were acting weird.”

Rolling her eyes, Title heads to the linen closet to grab a few washcloths. “No, honey. At least, nothing bad. Did you even have a chance to finish?”

“Huh? Oh yeah, you had to have heard her. Like I could hold back from THAT. She basically pulled it right out of me.” Accepting a washcloth he mumbled a quick thanks. “Barely had time to enjoy myself, though.”

Deed gently rolls Vines fully onto her side on the bed. Getting the washcloth in place first, he slowly eases back and cleans her up enough that there won’t be a mess on the sheets. Title helps take care of him with a second cloth, giving a thorough inspection while doing so.

“Gettin a little grabby there, ainchya? Don’t worry yer pretty head, honey. Like I told the colt, I won’t leave a mare disappointed. Don’t dry the lil fella off too much now. Get yourself right over here, see if I can go two for two.”

Pausing for a moment, Title considers. The sounds and smells had definitely gotten her interest piqued, and having the equipment in hoof didn’t abate that feeling one bit.

Finishing and tossing the washcloth in the restroom, she says, “Shush. I was wonderin if maybe you had ‘em do something. Maybe that shoulder wasn’t the only touch up he gave? I saw that wink too, after all.”

“HA! Nope, that’s all me babe. Now get over here and I'll prove it to ya!”

Deed had evidently gotten impatient, and with a swat of his tail on her rump she jumped to. Taking position so she was pressed between her wife and her husband, Title was not disappointed at all when he did, in fact, close again and deliver the Deed.

Author's Note

So a little planning, some world building, and some meandering conversation. In case you haven't noticed, that's what tends to happen. You talk about A, someone mentions B, then you've gone over C, D, and E before you realize you never even finished discussing A.

Oh well, such is life. If I'm mathing right it looks like that's a tad over 27k for the week. I think I'll take a break for a few days. 17 will probably hit Tuesday. Maybe Monday if I get in a mood. Everyone enjoy the weekend!

Chapter 17: Conflict

Thursday, September 4th, 908 AB

Cure closes the door behind him and takes off towards the garden.

He knows his parents need some “them” time too. He remembers going through the same thing when Kynzie and Josh were little. Those blessedly rare kid-free weekends where a grandparent or, even more rarely, their father would get them for a night… they were always a real treat. Those were the nights when tarps had to be put down, towels were laid out, and shit got downright wild.

Pausing by the garden, he considers playing around with the plants and seeing how much he can do with his mark. Thus far all the alterations done were with what he considered his “base” magic ability, the same as all earth ponies, presumably. He’s still debating going to the park when he hears a loud, low moan come from inside the house. “Wow, dam. Not even ten minutes. You go, girl.”

Turning towards the park he barely gets two steps before he hears a much louder, not-low-at-all scream of ecstasy. “Holy shit… the poor girl was pent the fuck up. Good luck, dad. HA!”

Feeling inordinately pleased with how much good he’d done that day, Cure turns and takes off.

I don’t need to be some kind of weird perv. Well, no weirder or pervier than I already am. Let them have their fun, but they damn well better clean up before any of them try to go in my room to wait for snuggles. I don’t need to smell dad’s nut all over them when I’m trying to sleep. That’s just too much.

Okay, so nopony around and nothing to do. I think it’s time to test a limit here. Full speed, go!

Pumping magic into his body, Cure breaks into a full sprint. The park is only about a half mile away, but he’s still not gotten a feel for how fast he can really go. Without a stopwatch it’s impossible to be sure, but it barely takes even a minute to cover the distance. Slowing as he approaches, he cycles magic throughout his body, activating his mark to encourage muscle growth and clear out any fatigue.

The draw from fat stores was barely noticeable. It wasn't totally insignificant, but he could still see how just a tiny bit was being grabbed from all over. Directing his gut, intestines, and digestive tract to do the best it can to extract every available nutrient from his food, he sought to replenish any expended stores.

As far as I know those systems are all damned efficient anyhow. No harm tossing a little magic in the mix, though. Maybe I can find the right bug or something; I think some of those don’t even poop, but that may be because they only live like a month.

Looking up towards the sun, Cure thinks about another energy source. I wonder if I can direct my skin to photosynthesize somehow. Actually, I think my coat would make that almost useless. Damn.

Okay, how about I try the pegasus eye thing. One eye at a time, Cure.

Finding a spot on a vacant bench, Cure looks around for a moment. There’s families out and about, and some foals running around the playground under their parents’ watch, but nopony he recognizes is around. Checking the sky to be safe, he sees absolutely no pegasi about either, nor are there any obvious clouds nearby.

Closing his eyes he falls into his mark. Using Crosswind’s eye as a template, modified for his own color and size, he first directs his magic to disable the pain receptors in his left eye and the immediate area.

Without overly analyzing the copy, Cure directs his magic through his mark to make the changes necessary to replicate the distance, color recognition, glare reduction, and other improvements that Crosswind enjoys, likely without ever thinking about them. The magic drain is relatively minor, though the process takes over ten minutes to complete.

Slowly turning on pain receptors a few at a time, Cure is relieved when nothing is hurting. Ensuring the connection to his brain is intact, it dawns on him that he may have plugged in a high resolution camera, but if the TV he’s watching only supports SD and the input is HD he may be in for a bad time.

Opening his unmodified eye and checking around again, he still seems to be in the clear. Rather than risking damage to his new eye, he turns to face the direction opposite the sun. Closing his unmodified eye, he feels he’s finally ready.

After psyching himself up, he barely cracks open his eye. Opening it slowly and allowing the brand new eye to adjust to the light, he feels no pain; there's just the typical discomfort he associates with opening an eye that had been closed for the last ten minutes when it’s still daylight out. Looking away from the sun had been a good call, apparently.

The difference, though noticeable, is not nearly as impressive as he’d been hoping for. Lines are definitely sharper, and by switching back and forth between eyes he can tell that there are more colors being detected, and the effect is a richer, more vibrant view. Happy with the results, he sits back down and begins work on his other eye.

Repeating the process, Cure finishes a little faster and cautiously opens both eyes to look around.

Okay, so having two eyes open seems to make an even bigger difference. I feel like I can see nearly twice as far away and… he takes a moment to read some of the signs posted around the park… yep, way better at the ‘ol vision test. I’d say this is a huge success. Not as awesome as I’d hoped for, but then again maybe that’s tied to pegasus magic as much as biology.

Just for the sake of thoroughness, he runs some magic through his eyes to see if there’s anything special going on. Then damn near falls off the bench, almost fainting. Only his TK field anchoring him in place keeps him seated.

FUCK. Okay, let’s see what I broke. The eyes themselves look fine. The connections are good. Why did I almost pass out then? I didn’t feel any actual pain, just ridiculously light headed and dizzy. Ah! It’s the visual cortex, I bet. It got overloaded like a fucking DoS attack would do. Idiot!

Do I dare muck with my brain? That’s not exactly a memory or decision-making area, so I’d still be 100% me. It’s just kind of a “process inputs” piece. It should be safe to do passively. Let’s compare the scans.

Comparing his from this morning with Crosswind’s, he could tell there were some differences in her visual cortex. It wasn’t a physical size difference though. It must more of a qualitative difference, or it uses an alternative processing method to greater effect. There are definitely areas of higher neural density, he notes.

So… is that like the cache or the RAM? Cache is probably a better analogy since it’s right at the processor. Ugh, who cares which it is. Either way she’s sportin a few MB while I was flooding my fifty KB chip. No wonder I almost blacked out.

Okay, magic. I’m trusting you a lot here. Don’t turn me into a tater, please. Just do what you have to do so that I don’t pass out if I run some juice through the ‘ol peepers.

Cycling magic through the area with the visualization of a technician upgrading his visual cortex’s bandwidth and processing capacity, Cure keeps watch over the other parts of his brain to ensure nothing funky happens to the other parts.

Not that it would fucking matter if I was watching or not. Keep those thoughts away. You can do it, mystery magic source. Let Cure see the light!

After a few minutes Cure could tell that whatever change had happened had been completed. Comparing his old scan, new scan, and Crosswind’s scan showed the changes. While his new scan wasn’t an exact match, it certainly had been modified to more closely resemble hers than his scan from this morning. The differences, he could only assume, were related to him not being a pegasus.

So, maybe because it’s a product of my own magic it’s somehow adapted to work with my “frequency?” Huh, I’ll have to look into that at some point. If all three tribes use “magic” is there actually different frequencies or some inherent property that makes emulation or conversion impossible? Fuck it, that’s for later. Eyes now.

Cautiously cracking open one eye showed the change, and it was glorious.

Full fucking HD. I swear to Harmony I have to have just doubled my visual acuity.

Looking around at the world in wonder, Cure couldn’t help but giggle in joy.

My mad scientist laugh is a giggle! God ponies are cute, even me. There’s no denying it.

Closing one eye, Cure ever so gently directs some of his magic to the open one. It’s only when he concentrates on a sign that the difference becomes apparent. His eyes aren’t telescopic; that would require physical changes to the way the lens operates. Still, the visual effect is the same. Signs that are far enough away he could barely see are perfectly legible.

Yep. This is it. If I was flying a hundred, two hundred MPH, this is the only way somepony could properly judge distance, edges, etc. to make those sharp turns like what we saw in the show.

I have actual proper pegasus vision now! Woo! Suck it, Lasik!

I bet their spatial awareness is off the charts too. Oh well, I'll worry about that later!

Thrilled with his success, Cure began walking around, just taking in the sights and, in all likelihood, looking like a loon to anypony actually watching him. Fortunately, nopony he could see, even with his far expanded capability, was paying any attention to the blue colt bouncing around with a huge smile on his face.

So, vision is a Go. I need to find a damn dog next. I know pony noses are way better than human noses, but I still bet a dog would blow me out of the water. I just hope that doesn’t mean I’m going to be effectively sniffing everypony’s ass all day long. Ugh, well if it sucks I can always turn it off.

Keeping up a decent canter, he takes off into town proper. Passing the school, he heads right to where the stores are that cater to children his age. Waving and greeting passing ponies as appropriate, he makes his way to Lemon’s store, even knowing she’d gone home hours earlier. Apparently she didn’t actually open today, but she must have been busy working to restock inventory. The sign on the door says she’ll reopen for business tomorrow.

Going a few shops down, he finds one of Lemon’s competitors still open, even though it looks like they’ll be shutting down for the night in the next few minutes. Grabbing a decent sized pack of mixed chocolates and some caramels, he also picks up some of the rock candy he remembers his dad snatching from his bag after Nightmare Night last year.

I should start planning my costume. My parents would shit a brick if I came downstairs with wings and a horn. If I wasn’t sure it’d eat through most of my magic to put them on It’d be totally worth it. Actually growing wings would probably be several times my capacity.

Maybe if I started as soon as I went to my room the night before… and ate a fucking ton of food for like a week ahead of time for the biomass.

It still may be totally worth it. I’d definitely have to wait upstairs until I recovered, though. I suspect I’ll need all of my magic to heal dam from the heart attack it’ll probably cause. Maybe I could just play it off as a good illusion then.

Damn, I need to scan me a unicorn. I wonder if I can build a horn and have it obscured… like running down my mane instead of poking out my forehead. Or just flat out have most of it internal with just a tiny nub hiding in my mane. I always used to joke about being twelve inches, it just depends on where ya start measuring from!

Making his way past the library and towards an ice cream store, he paused in thought.

I wonder if I could come up with some reason to give Mr. Binder a quick poke. Ugh! Damn my ethics, why do I have to feel guilty when it literally does them no harm. Wait, I told him I was going to be a doctor. Maybe I could say “Hey my special talent is to tell if you’re healthy. You in?”

Meh… lying by omission isn’t much better. Then again I never told Crosswind I was going to steal her damn eyeballs. Crap, does this mean I’m a bad pony? I’ll have to make it up to her somehow, even if she did kind of force me to check her over.

Entering the ice cream parlor, Cure was thrilled at his luck. In a booth to the side were Crosswind and Glacial, along with four other older pegasi. He hadn’t met the older ones, but he suspected they could be siblings a year or so older than the girls, given how few pegasi there were in Golden Hills.

Approaching the group, Cure didn’t hesitate to say hello.

“Hey everypony, how are you all doing today?” With all eyes turned his direction he focused on Drift and Glacial. “Heya Drift, Glacial. What’s new?”

With a small wave of her wing, Glacial is the first to reply. “Oh! Hi Cure! I didn't see you walk in. We're not doing much, we just stopped by before they closed down for the evening. What are you doing out?”

“A whole lot of nothin, basically. I think I’ve been driving my dam up the wall all week, so I figured I’d give my parents some alone time and came into town to find something to do.” Pausing to nod towards the door, he explains, “I swung by the candy store before heading this way just kind of hoping to bump into somepony I knew.”

Smiling at the four older fillies who hadn’t yet spoken he said, “Hi, nice to meet you all. I’m Cure Wave… I don’t think we’ve met before.” Turning back to Glacial and Drift he asks, “Hey, I don’t want to assume anything, but with how few pegasi families are around here… are these your older sisters?”

One of the girls spoke up, a slightly older one with a just barely off-white coat and a golden mane and tail. She was about two hooves taller than Drift, so probably eleven years old or so. “Ah, Cure… It’s nice to meet you too. I’m actually Drift’s oldest sister.” she said with a smile. “The name’s Wind Shear.”

Smiling down at the shorter colt, she wags her eyebrows while saying, “Sissy says you got a real good look at her chest yesterday. So… did ya like what you saw?”

Chests aren't erogenous zones on ponies like… at all. Am I missing the joke? I can literally see her chest right now, so who cares?

Everypony else but Glacial at the table erupts in laughter while Crosswind shouts “WHAT?” and almost shoots out of her chair.

“HA! Don’t worry, Drift. I take patient confidentiality very seriously,” Cure says, shooting her a wink. “I’m afraid I simply cannot comment one way or the other about anypony I use my talent on,” he finishes, shrugging at Shear.

“Aww, he’s sticking up for her!” one of the other girls calls out. “You must have made quite the impression, Drift!” Naturally, another round of giggles erupts from the four. Crosswind, Cure notices, has definitely pinked in the ears a bit. What’s interesting is that Glacial has as well.

Looking at the girl who had spoken up, Cure wasn’t sure how to respond. Agreeing would probably get Drift teased more. Disagreeing would seem like abandoning her. If these girls were going to keep piling on it was probably best to make a tactical retreat.

“Well… I certainly didn’t mean to get anypony teased or anything.” Turning to face the two, he said, “Glacial, Drift. Sorry that my saying hi made them all so jealous of you. I didn’t realize they would be so upset that no colts came over to greet them too,” he pauses, looking at the loudmouth girl, “even if I suspect there’s a good reason for that.”

Looking back at the two, he nods and says, “I hope you have a good evening despite the company.” Turning from the table of wide-eyed stares, Cure walks up to the counter.

Ordering a large chocolate shake, he pays and waits, ignoring the mutterings and whispers coming from behind. Within a few minutes he has his shake and is walking out the door, fairly certain what was going to happen next.

Ugh, so cliché. Gee I wonder if the slighted bully feels the need to get even.

Drinking the shake as fast as he could, he moseys around town to kill time, keeping an eye on any windows or reflective surfaces he could use to see upwards and behind him. Sure enough, after about ten minutes of poking around he could tell he was definitely being followed. He can barely hold back the eye roll after he spots them; they hadn't even bothered trying to hide behind a cloud or anything, they were just poking their heads around corners without any subtlety at all.

Fortunately, with all the other ponies around, there isn't a good opportunity for the older fillies to do anything. Finishing his shake, he drops it in the nearest trash can and begins to go home, unsure how he’ll get there when they have the clear mobility advantage. This, he figures, is likely unavoidable at this point.

I mean... is the world testing me or something? This is playing out like something from a 6th grader's creative writing assignment. Well fuck them either way. I refuse to turn tail and run from a bunch of little girls, even if I am smaller.

Making his way through the park, Cure sticks to paths that had more trees lining them so he couldn’t easily be snuck up on or swooped from above. It turns out to be unnecessary, as the flock has apparently decided to wait up ahead for him, casually sitting around like a gang from Grease or something.

Approaching the group while barely suppressing a sigh, Cure makes sure to stop with a few body lengths between him and Wind Shear, who must have decided she was personally insulted and had to prove herself as the alpha.

Drift, and Glacial are both standing to the side, clearly not happy with the situation, but probably forced to come along since they’re the youngest of the group.

With a bright smile, Cure looks to the older filly. "Hi Wind, what’s up? If you wanted to follow me home you could have just asked. I don’t think we’ve known each other long enough for the “introduce her to the parents” step yet, but that’s okay, my sire will be thrilled at all the attention I’m getting anyhow."

With a heated glare she says, “You’ve got a bit of a mouth on ya, don’t you Cure?”

“I sure do. It’s not my finest feature, if you ask me, but I’m pretty proud of it I suppose. I do brush every night, after all,” Cure answers with an even bigger, toothy smile.

“HA! Well how about you tell me what is your finest feature, then.”

Turning and standing like some kind of prancing thoroughbred, Cure easily responds, “I thought pegasi have really good eyes." With raised eyebrows he asks, "Are you saying you can’t tell yourself? Need a hint?"

Walking in a slow circle around him, she eyes him up and down. "Well I’m curious what you think, that’s all."

Lowering his voice, Cure says, “Oh… Why, of course." Looking around to ensure nopony was nearby, he answers. "Well you see, my finest feature is obviously,” he leans forward to whisper, and despite themselves, every single one of the fillies leans forward to hear what he has to say. Shattering their expectations, he loudly declares “... my charming personality, obviously!”

Most of the fillies cover their faces with a quiet giggle at the clearly unexpected answer, even while trying to maintain the ridiculous “intimidating hardass” look.

Wind Shear did not find it amusing. “Well, can’t say it’s impressed me so-”

“I assure you, I have no desire to impress you at all.” Fuming, Wind stares daggers at Cure for interrupting. “I think I have an idea of why you may be here.” Meeting her eyes, he continues, "I strongly believe you should reconsider. No good can come of this, but lots of unpleasantness almost certainly will."

Walking up to tower over him, she pokes a hoof into his chest repeatedly while snarling, “I don’t think you get to decide that, little colt. I think you need me to teach you not to get smart with older, bigger ponies. Maybe I should smack you around a little bit to let that lesson sink in real good.”

Taking a small step back, Cure notes that Glacial and Drift are both furious at Wind Shear. The other fillies are also beginning to look pretty unsure about their leader’s decision making, even the one that was getting smart at the ice cream parlor.

Staring directly into her eyes, Cure keeps a perfectly straight face. With a level tone he says, “Wind Shear. I’ve tried walking away, I’ve tried making jokes. I will make this very clear. Do. Not. Touch. Me. Again. Is that understood?”

Taking a half step forward, she reaches to poke him with her right hoof again while asking, “And what are you going to do to stop me, little colt?”

As soon as the hoof gets close enough, Cure grabs onto it with one hoof as hard as he possibly can. Still holding on, he dives under her between her left two legs, dragging the hoof along and pulling her straight down onto her right shoulder with a yelp. Now behind and to her left he quickly body checks her in the flank, toppling her over just as she begins to spread her wings.

Unfortunately, that causes her to fall on her right side before she could gain any lift, pinning the right wing at a very uncomfortable angle, straight up off her back and flat on the ground.

Unable to roll over her right side, she tries to right herself onto her belly to stand, but before she can Cure puts his right hoof right against the base of her left wing, his left hoof on her left shoulder, and holding himself and her down with the strongest TK field he can muster through his rear hooves, presses her to the ground yelling “STOP” directly into her ear.

Pausing for a second, she leans her head up to see him standing on top of her with his right hoof in a very uncomfortable spot and her front legs pinned. Knowing he could simply stomp down and severely damage her wing joint, she freezes on the spot.

“I don’t want to have to hurt you," he says, turning to look at her friends. The gray one that had mouthed off had already started moving towards him. Meeting her eyes he presses just a tiny bit more, eliciting a yelp from Shear. “BACK! NOW!”

The gray pegasus freezes, looking to Wind on the ground, then slowly backs away.

"You and your friends really have me outnumbered, so I just can’t afford to play nice. You’re going to stay put and not move, or I will start pressing down. Is that understood?” When he shifts his weight a little she immediately starts to tear up.

Shouting “DON’T!” she stopped moving and said, “Don’t press there, you’ll break my wing!”

"I wouldn't break your stupid wing. I'm not even doing anything right now. Still, I know this can't be comfortable. Now, tell your friends to get lost. Once they leave I'll let you up, and we can go our separate ways all peaceful-like. Nopony has to get hurt at all and we can all just go home."

Before anypony can move, Cure catches movement out of the corner of his eye. Turning his head to look towards the sky he sees help is on the way.

“Oh lookie here. It must be my lucky day, ladies. I’m thinking somepony’s parents were wondering where their daughters must have gotten off to." Looking down at Wind with a smile he asks, "I bet you were supposed to be home by now, weren’t ya?”

Focusing on the pair, both wearing guard armor, Cure can tell even from this distance that it is indeed a mare and a stallion and they’re headed right towards the group. Once they’re within a few seconds of landing, Cure sends a healing wave through Wind’s back, clearing up any injury. He then releases her completely while taking a few steps back.

“What in the name of Tartarus is going on here?!” the mare shouts as they land.

Nopony volunteers anything, so Cure quietly waits to see how this is going to play out.

What's going on is pretty bloody obvious, isn't it?

“You!" The stallion shouts, pointing at Cure with a wing, "Why were you standing on my daughter threatening to snap her wing?"

“Wait… what? Is that really how you want to play this, mister guard? You see one colt and six older fillies standing around and you're questioning me? I want you to stop and think about this for a moment, really.”

The enraged stallion doesn't relent at all. "I don't know where you get off telling me what to do, colt. I am not in the mood for any lip." Walking up until he was almost right on top of Cure he leans down and growls out, "You best speak up quick and explain to me why I saw you assaulting my daughter!" all the while ignoring Drift's shouts of "Dad! No!"

Quickly nodding while adopting a meek pose, Cure simply says "Okay, yes sir. I'll tell you everything right away, sir." Taking as deep of a breath as possible, Cure channels magic to his diaphragm, throat, and vocal folds before screaming at the top of his lungs, “SOMEPONY HELP ME! THIS GUARD IS THREATENING MEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE!”

Every single ear within a hundred feet immediately folds down over top itself. The stallion, getting the full effect at point blank range, actually flapped his wings in a half jump back on reflex before rolling on the ground and coming back up in a prepared squat with wings spread, clearly acting only on muscle memory, as his eyes are closed and ears are flat on his head.

Meanwhile, every single pair of eyes that he can see even with his enhanced vision snap to Cure’s direction, and several dozen citizens start approaching to see why a fully-armored pegasus guard stallion looks ready to lunge at a small earth pony colt.

It was not a good look.

It took more than a few seconds for the pair of guards to regain their bearing after that sonic attack, and when they look back up each of them has at least six scowling earth ponies standing within a foreleg's reach. The fillies take a few extra seconds to recover, and they all pale when they look around to see a sizable crowd has gathered around them.

In order to establish the narrative, Cure rushes to explain, "I tried to get away from these fillies and they blocked my path. That one," pointing at Wind Shear, "jabbed me in the chest after threatening to beat me. I defended myself by disabling her without doing any harm. While I did, that one," now pointing to the gray filly that tried to blindside him, "tried to jump me from behind. Then you came down here in your fancy armor screaming your head off and starting to interrogate me about hurting your daughter instead of helping the victim like you're supposed to!"

The crowd, who has heard every word, looks ready to lynch the poor stallion. An enraged mare steps forward and gets right in the his face. Scowling down at the shorter stallion she snarl-yells, “You better have a damned good reason why you’re harassing this colt, soldier! What’s your name and who is your commander?”

“CURE? WAS THAT CURE?”

Turning just in time to be scooped up by his sire, Cure finds himself pressed against his dad’s chest while the pegasus stallion looks like he wants to tuck tail and bolt. Sadly, there is no mercy to be had tonight as Title and Vines both show up a second later, getting the short explanation from the crowd.

Wow, this really turned into an absolute clusterfuck. All the dude had to do was scold his daughter and be on his way, now he’s gonna have a real bad night. How did he see this going, exactly? And why do I feel a little guilty now? Meh, fuck him abusing authority like that. Play stupid games.

Oh, nice, and here come some more guards just because shit literally cannot get crazier.

Approaching from town, four earth pony and two unicorn guards are quickly making their way over in a full gallop. Whispering to his dad, “more guards comin from town” Cure otherwise doesn’t move or say anything. Within a minute the guards have arrived and are starting to make their way through the parting crowd.

“Alright, what in her royal highness’s name is going on over here?! Why are two of my guards about to get lynched? Back off, all of ya,” the frontmost earth pony shouts.

Poking his dad in the shoulder, Cure gets Deed’s attention and leans up to whisper, “How should I play this?”

Grimacing, Deed looks around. Seeing no other obvious solution he whispers back to Cure, “Like an eight year old colt.”

Ah hell, I don’t think I can queue up the waterworks like a real kid my age would. Damn I’m not gonna have to picture the end of Saving Private Ryan am I? That’ll do it… there’s the tears. Thanks, Tom Hanks!

Ah hell… now all the fillies are crying. Well at least I won’t look out of place having a bit of wetness ‘bout the ol peepers. I feel like I would have to turn in my man card if I was the only one.

The head-honcho has made it into the middle of the group at this point and, much to the relief of the two pegasi guards, orders the rest form a small barrier around them. Talking amongst themselves, it is impossible to hear the discussion, but it doesn’t take enhanced vision to see the commander is absolutely livid.

Finally hearing enough he takes a few seconds to collect himself and snarls a command to stay put. Turning around to address the crowd he shouts, “I need all of you to go back to whatever you were doing. I will get to the bottom of this, but I will not have a mob gathering around my soldiers, so everypony that wasn’t directly involved is ordered to disperse. IMMEDIATELY!"

Despite his warning the mare who had gotten in the pegasus’ face does not leave, nor do a half dozen other mares and stallions that had been amongst the first to arrive when Cure called for help. Most of the crowd backs off, though many of them only move far enough away to seem non-threatening.

Approaching Deed, who was now flanked by Vines and Title, the commander adopts a stoic look and introduces himself. “Good evenin sir, ma’ams. I’m Staff Sergeant Iron Bulwark. My understanding is that there was some sort of altercation between your colt and these fillies over here." Turning his head he nods in the girls' direction before looking back.

"I don’t intend to separate you from your colt or anything along those lines, but may I ask some questions to sort out what happened?”

Deed nods and sets Cure on the ground. “Go on, son. Tell the sergeant what happened.”

“Sure thing, dad. You’ve already got the gist of it, sir. I met them at the ice cream parlor after I went into town to give my folks some alone time and fetch everypony some treats from the candy store,” he starts, pointing at the now-mussed pouches on his sides.

At the pause Sgt. Iron looks up to Deed and briefly smirks. Deed shoots him a quick, but toothy grin.

“Well I played kickball with Crosswind Drift and Glacial Breeze the other night, so when I noticed them sittin there I went over to say hi and just kind of chat with 'em. I asked if the other girls were their sisters and introduced myself,” Cure explained, pausing for a moment.

“Well they kept teasing Drift on account'a colt was bein friendly with her, so I made a joke about them being jealous, then apologized for Drift being teased ‘cause of me trying to be nice. I bought a big chocolate shake and left. It was real good, so I drank it and threw away the cup before I even left town. I was goin home,” he pauses to point in the direction of his house, “and they landed in front of me to block my path.”

Intro to Up, the Intro sequence to Up!

Feeling his eyes watering a bit, Cure continues, “Well the tall one, Wind Shear, she said I had a smart mouth and she was going to beat a lesson into me about it. I asked her not to touch me cause she kept pokin me. I made some jokes about my charming personality to try to de-escalate the situation. I even point blank asked her to leave me be. She just kept poking. Finally, I said “Do not touch me again.” Well, sir, she did.”

Nodding along, the sergeant was listening to every word. Cure noted that one of the unicorns behind him was levitating a quill and an inkpad in a magenta aura and had apparently been writing everything down. “I’m assuming that’s what led to the scuffle, is that right, son?”

“Yes sir, the next time she poked me in the chest I grabbed her hoof and dove right between her legs, pulled her right over on her chest and shoulder, then bumped her onto her side. She started to spread her wings just as she fell, so the right wing got pinned flat on the ground spread open. I shoved my right hoof against the base of the left wing and held her shoulders flat on the ground with my left hoof, sir. I wasn’t tryin to hurt her at all, just pin her down.”

“A pegasus shouldn’t be hurt at all from fallin like that, son, so don’t worry. We’ll check her out, but so far she seems okay,” he says, briefly looking back over to Wind. She's being looked at by, Cure assumes, the squad medic who is checking her wing. She's moving it fine, so, as the sergeant says, there's no obvious injury.

“Thank you sir. Well, one of her friends, her over there,” pointing to the loudmouth again who wilts under the attention this time, “tried to rush me from behind. There was only one of me and four of them, so I pushed on that wing and told her to stop before I had to hurt somepony. I’m smaller 'n both of 'em, so if I figured if I let her up I was gonna be in trouble. I told her to tell her friends to go away so we could all go home.”

“It’s okay, son. Like I said, she doesn’t seem hurt. What happened next?”

“That's when I saw the guard pegasi comin, so once they got close I moved offa her to let 'er up. Well the mare landed and started screamin wanting to know what was goin on. The stallion landed and got all up on top of me demanding to know why I was assaulting his daughter. He said I tried to snap her wing off. I was surrounded and scared, so I screamed for help as loud as I possibly could.”

“And one Tartarus of a scream it was, son. Every guard in the city started heading this direction. I had to send several back to their posts.” With a sigh, he looks around a moment in thought before looking back to Cure. "Unfortunately, that was probably the best thing you could have done at that point."

“Yes sir. Well, all the other ponies around came to see what the commotion was and the two guards kinda backed off from there. That nice mare over there asked the stallion guard who his commanding officer is and that's when we all saw you comin from town."

"Alright, son. I'm going to chat with everypony else. I don't think I'll need anything further from you, but please stick around for a moment.” Looking to Deed he adds, “Corporal Sabot will come get your contact info, sir. Thank you for your cooperation sir, son, ma'am's." Nodding, the Sergeant moves towards the group of fillies.

Another earth pony, presumably Corporal Sabot, comes next. After Deed gives him their names and address he takes off towards the fillies next.

After several stops Sgt. Iron eventually comes back around. "We checked Miss Shear over. She isn't hurt at all, so good job being gentle with her. Everypony's story also lines up with everything you said. Your little fillyfriends were pretty upset," he adds with a smirk.

"I could tell they were, sir. They looked like Wind forced 'em to come with her. Two of the others didn't look happy either."

"You're likely right," he agrees with a nod. "Either way, you all are free to head home. If we end up needing anything else we'll be in contact."

Standing at a slightly relaxed version of "attention" he delivers a sincere apology. "On behalf of the guard I do want to apologize for the corporal's behavior. It was unprofessional and inappropriate and will be addressed. I hope the remainder of your evening is pleasant.” With a nod the sergeant turns and walks to the pegasus and starts calling the other guards to gather up.

With the clear dismissal, Cure and his family all head home together, walking in complete silence. Looking over his withers, he sees the pegasus mare take the fillies and, he guesses, start to fly home. The stallion accompanies the rest of the guards back to town. That’s where the real yelling will no-doubt happen.

Once inside the house they make their way to their cushions. Cure no more than removes his bags before he's scooped up again, dropped on his dam's cushion, and glomped on.

"Sun and stars, Cure. Can't you even go get ice cream like a normal colt?" Title asks.

"Aww come on mom, you heard the whole story, what should I have done differently? By the way, your candy's over there."

"Oh! Thanks!" she says as she started passing out the treats. "No idea. Maybe just stayed home, I guess."

"Pfft, no thanks. You all were plenty loud enough even with me outside, I am not staying inside for that." Cure can feel his dam heat up a bit blushing on top of him. "I am sorry to have ruined your night with that stupidity though. Once that stallion got in my face I only had a couple options left. Getting help from an adult was by far the best one.”

"Wasn't there any way to avoid fighting, sweetie?"

"Come on, honey, you heard the colt's story. He tried everything he could've. I think you did the best you could, son,” Deed reassures Cure with a nod. “Just how in the world were you so loud though? Your poor moms were both almost asleep and damn near shot through the roof. It sounded like you were right outside the room, but you were almost a kilometer away."

"It's called the Royal Canterlot Voice. It's something Luna does a lot when she's trying to sound official after her return. Basically I enhanced my lungs, throat, and vocal folds with magic and screamed my head off."

"It was very effective, Cure. Good job."

“Thanks, mom. I’m still bummed it turned into such a fiasco. It seems like such a stupid thing to escalate an off the cuff joke about being jealous to an actual fight.” Letting out a sigh he continues, “Ya know… Drift was kind of aggressive when I met her last night too. Maybe that just runs in the family. In those stories the pegasi are often the more military-minded tribe. Is that really the case?”

“Sort of. I don’t think I would say pegasi are actually militaristic, just that maybe earth ponies and unicorns are generally not at all. So, in a way yes, they are, but I’d definitely not directly associate pegasus culture with a military focus.”

“Ah. Got it. Well I’m pretty confident that completely sank any chance I’d have to get to know Glacial better. I tried my best to paint them as innocent without overdoing it, but I suspect I burned that bridge to the ground.”

“I wouldn’t be so sure, sweetie. She was there for everything too, she certainly knows you were backed into a corner. If she wasn’t joining in with the rest of them she shouldn’t get in trouble. Oh! I did notice her coat color too. It is very pretty with the sunset on it.”

“Oh yeah, you should see it how I can now. I went ahead and upgraded my eyes to be like a pegasus’ and wow, what a difference. Before you freak out, I was very slow and methodical about everything. I didn’t do anything dumb or hurt myself at all.”

Technically true. There was no "hurt" at all, I just almost passed out, that's it!

“Is there a huge difference?”

Nodding to his mom, “Yep, grab a book or something and stand across the room. I can probably read it like it was right in front of me. I’m also seeing sharper colors too. I’d offer to give you an upgrade but I think I’d need to wait until tomorrow night. I burned through a lot of my magic since I left the house.”

Pausing in thought for a moment he adds on, “Actually, give me a week so I have time to thoroughly test everything. I can actively monitor every part of it, you don't have a way of doing that.”

Grabbing a book with fine print and moving to the opposite side of the room, Title does a quick impromptu vision test on Cure. He reads a passage with no problem, suitably impressing the adults.

“I don’t know about your dam or sire, Cure, but I’m willing to give it a shot. What all is involved?”

“There’s two stages to the procedure. The first stage is actually enhancing your eyes by adding a bunch of rods and cones to them. Those are the part of the eye that detect light coming in, so they’re what actually “see”. For pegasi having more was almost definitely an evolutionary necessity because ones with less couldn’t fly as effectively if their sight wasn’t as good.”

“Okay, that sounds pretty straight-forward”

“Yep, there’s also a bit of tinkering involving the iris and pupil so your eye can deal with light changes better, along with some muscles needing enhanced and some other minor tweaks. Pegasi don’t have a nictitating membrane to protect their eyes and adding one would be noticeable, so that option was out.”

“Built-in sunglasses would be nice, but no. That would definitely draw attention…”

“Right. So once all the changes to your actual eyes are done you should see about twice as well, but to really unlock the full potential we’d need to enhance your visual cortex too.”

“Where’s that?”

"It’s where your eyes plug into your brain." Holding his hooves up to the incoming argument he adds, "Don’t worry, it’s got nothing to do with personality, memory, or any of that stuff. It’s only responsible for processing info from the eyes. With better eyes, more info is coming in, so that part needs to be enhanced as well."

“I dunno son… you know more than that stuff than we do, but messing with the brain sounds like it could go real bad, real fast.”

“It could if you can’t literally see everything that’s happening and can’t direct your magic to fix any issues as they’re appearing. Think about it this way, I’m like… hooked up to the most advanced piece of medical equipment I’ve ever heard of. Short of sudden death the only thing that could end me is sustained injury forcing me to use all my magic before being fixed.”

“Well, if it all works great, maybe you can do mine next Friday. That will give me the weekend to get used to it before I have to get back to work. You'll also be around me more in case anything weird does pop up."

“Awesome. You’ll love it. I can't believe the difference. Just wait until I figure out UV and infrared. You'll be able to see heat signatures and entirely different spectrums."

"Why would you ever need that, sweetie?"

"Same answer as training strength or your TK field. Who knows? You can't predict what could happen, so always be prepared. Also I have some thoughts about changelings maybe being distinguishable with alternative viewing modes. They're bug ponies, so maybe they aren't as warm."

"You mentioned them on the way home from the store, sweetie. What are they exactly?"

"I'm not completely sure if they're actually bugs or if they just have bug-like characteristics, but imagine a pony shaped creature with a black carapace instead of fur, wings like a dragonfly, a crooked horn, and a fin-like thing instead of a mane. That sums them up pretty well."

"That sounds like something out of a nightmare, son."

"Do they fly and do magic? You said they have horns and wings."

"Yes, but all of their powers are fueled from draining sentient creatures of love, and I think maybe other emotions too. That means if they are low on love they’re almost powerless. A single changeling isn’t usually a threat, it’s when they start replacing a large number of ponies in a town that they can be a problem. This close to a major city we should be safe.”

“That’s not terribly encouraging, sweetie.”

“Ehh… there’s a reason I want to be able to spot them. They typically will have a few drones spread out in towns to get some ambient love. It’s only if there’s a bunch in town that we need to be concerned. They’re also more of a problem to the south or southwest, I think. I think their hive is located in the Badlands, so we should be fine on the opposite side of Canterlot from them.”

“And… you said you wanted to do something about their queen?”

“Yeah, it depends on how nuts she is. They’re literally starving to death. When they’re low on love they have these holes all over their legs and stuff. It's awful if you ask me. I've never starved, but even going hungry for a day sucks," he says with a shudder.

"They’re also suffering from a curse that, once lifted, makes it so they can eat normal food and don’t have to drain love anymore. The stories take place like ninety years from now, so if she’s still somewhat sane she should be redeemable.”

“And if not?”

“Then I would want the princess nearby. She’s an alicorn level threat if she’s gorged on love. Well, maybe. Celestia could probably take her out with ease, but in the show there’s so many ponies nearby when they fight that Celestia was probably holding back a lot to not cook everypony. That’s the thing, changelings can’t win a straight fight, so they use deception. Hence the name.”

“Okay… how’s the whole draining love thing work?”

“I’m not exactly sure, but they can kind of suck it out of a pony. They aim to capture, not kill, but it’s no better. They have these pods where, supposedly, you have good dreams. You know, to make more love? Anyhow, they pod you and keep you alive for a while at least. I would not be taken alive, I’ll tell you that right now.”

“Cure! Don’t talk like that!” Vines shouts while squeezing down on him.

“I’m not joking when I say this. If a changeling was dragging me into some cave I would use every weapon in my arsenal to kill them before yielding. It may sound awful, but at that point it's kill or be killed and I would do whatever I can to survive it.”

“That sounds pretty brutal, son.”

“Hey, I’m all for helping whoever I can, but I’m not going to be turned into some all-you-can-eat buffet until I wither away and die. If I can identify a changeling I’ll probably make a nasty virus in advance that I just keep in my blood just in case. Maybe not anything lethal, but enough to make them sneeze a lot or something that would expose them. My goal is ultimately to bring them to the bargaining table and let the boss lady take care of it from there."

“What about all the innocent changelings that could be hurt?”

Scoffing, he answers, “That’s their problem. It's a little cruel and unfair, but life often is."

Nuzzling up into his mother, Cure adds, “You may be uncomfortable with it, but if somecreature ever hurts you I will hurt them far worse, I promise. I told you that calling for help was my best option earlier. It wasn’t my only one, not even close.”

“Son, that was a trained guard. If he’d wanted to hurt you there was nothing you could do to stop him until help came.”

"I could have disconnected his spine below the neck, flooded his system with endorphins, blinded him by severing his optical nerves, or just about anything else. I've not tried to use my powers offensively but I've not seen any sign that anypony can block it either."

“Yeesh... I’m pretty sure those would stop him," Title nods in agreement.
“Damn, colt. Yer not one for playin around, huh?”
“Cure! That's horrible!"

“I would only do those in a life or death situation, dam. Even if he was beating me, which I don’t think a guard would ever do, I would just take it and heal later. Just think of the blackmail material!" Cure jokingly points out. Deed and Title evidently found it amusing, but his dam is still uncomfortable with it. "Don't worry dam, I could fix any of those too. Nothing there has to be permanent.”

"Well... I still don't like it, but I'm relieved you didn't lash out."

"Don't worry, dam. I have memories from a world with a lot more conflict than this one. I never fought much, but I'm no pushover either, even without ridiculous magical abilities. A big part of self defense training is knowing when to run, too. People that think they're invincible usually get shown they're not."

"The other main reason I yelled is because I was just so incredibly ticked off at him getting on my case when I clearly had six fillies surrounding me. Only one of them tried to help Wind Shear, but he didn’t know that. He saw a young colt earth pony and assumed he had to be the problem, not the six pegasi blocking his path. He needs some training or something."

“I’m pretty sure that sergeant is going to rip him a new one, so I wouldn’t worry about that,” Title said, waving away the concern.

“Yeah, son. I’m bettin Sgt. Iron put two and two together pretty quick there. The fillies being jerks isn’t what drew him out there, after all, it was the “this guard is threatening me” that did it.”

“I swear, is this the crap that earth ponies have to put up with all the time? In my memories I was a white man in a predominantly white country and I always tried to empathize with people that weren’t white… is this what it feels like? It sucks,” he said with a grimace.

“What do you mean, sweetie?”

“So far my interactions with ponies from the other tribes have not been good. Is this normal? The first unicorn I meet talks all patronizing to me and now I meet an adult pegasus and his first assumption is that I somehow managed to… I dunno, trick six fillies into landing in front of me so I could pin one down?" Waving his hooves in front of him he shouts, "How’s that make any sense at all?! How could I possibly have arranged that scenario???”

“I think maybe you’ve just gotten unlucky, son. You have to keep in mind that maybe that pegasus is stationed near a small town because he’s messed up before. I'm sure this isn't anypony's chosen assignment unless they already lived here. Or, he could just be a jerk, that seems likely too.”

“Well I hope I’m not just being overly sensitive, but jeez… how many times can a pattern repeat before you just kind of expect it from there on?”

“You… aren’t,” Title admitted sadly, “just being sensitive. It’s a real problem, sadly.”

“Well that sucks.”

“It does. You see it a lot more from unicorns than pegasi, but it's there. Fortunately we do almost all of our business with other earth ponies. Pegasi don't buy a lot of ground based real estate and very few unicorns live out here... and the ones that do typically aren't like that."

"Yep, yer mom's right. I think I've had maybe one pegasus client ever, and she was married to an earth pony, so she couldn't get a cloud house."

"Oh? Heavy's parents?" Getting a head shake no, Cure shrugs and continues, "So… is there going to be any fallout from this?"

With furrowed brows Title tries to decipher the meaning. "Fall out? Huh?"

Pointing a hoof at her, Cure excitedly shouts, "AHA! See! I just asked and got grief over checking on terms and then found one that doesn't translate!"

"Gonna fill us in, son?"

"Fallout is the left-over lingering effect from some of humanity's worst weapons. They left radioactive particles in the air and those particles were called fallout. It later became a common term used to mean "unexpected after-effects" basically."

"Radioactive?"

"Yeah, emitting radiation." Seeing their confusion, he explains, "All minerals break down over time in nature. Some, as they do, emit a form of energy that isn't visible to the eye but is very dangerous if concentrated enough. Think of it as an invisible aura but instead of heat or force, like a unicorn's beam, it slowly poisons you."

"You mentioned that this morning when I gave you the thermometer."

"Yep, good memory dam. Humans didn't know that the energy being emitted was bad because it takes time to build up in low doses. Remember my cell replacement example?" at a round of nods he continues, "radiation of the right kind can make it so cells are poisoned and too damaged to replace each other. They're also dying themselves, so in a few hours it can be lethal if the exposure is bad enough.

"I'm not even sure I could fix that... it would be similar to the whole "undo aging" thing. You know, I'd basically be rolling back the clock on a cell's health, but I would have to undo the poisoning too, and I don't have the magic reserves to do a whole pony at once. Yet, at least."

"And humans turned that into weapons? That's sick," Title says grimacing.

Cure replies while emphasizing the word, "Unexpected after effect, mom. The weapons that caused the radiation were new the only time they were used in war. It was a very, very bad war where something like eighty million humans died. The bombs that caused the radiation were used because the alternative would have been an incredibly bloody invasion with millions more dead. It was possibly the least awful option available. They may have known about the poisoning, but even with that an invasion could have been worse."

"Eighty million deaths…" Vines mumbles, covering her mouth with a fetlock.

"It's a terribly high number, but keep in mind humans have fully conquered their entire world. I'm not sure how many there were then but there's almost eight billion now. The fighting spread all over the planet." Seeking to move away from the atrocities in human history, Cure gives each parent a brief look while asking, "Anyhow, what can we expect as a result of this mess?"

"Uhh, son, thermometers aren't radioactive are they? I assume you woulda said so, but…"

"No, it just came up because humans stopped using mercury in thermometers and I made an offhoof comment about toxins, like radiation and mercury, being very harmful if you didn't know about them."

"Okay… why'd you need a thermometer? Nopony is sick, obviously."

"I tested the TK aura for heating and cooling. It works but it's slow."

"Neat!" Title shouts while clapping her hooves.

"Yep!"

Answering his original question, Title explains "Well I don't expect anything bad to come out of this. Maybe a few nosy neighbors will bug us for details, that's about it. We may get something in writing from the guard about the incident, but I doubt it."

"Like a summons?"

"No, probably just a written summary to show an official record exists. That's all I would expect from them."

"So I don't need to keep an eye on the sky or anything?"

"No, definitely not. Those two guards will probably keep far away so they don't risk another bad incident. I'm sure the sergeant told them to keep their distance."

"Well alright then. Well I'm ready to hit the bath. I can tell you all showered already, so," looking up to his dam, who is still on top of him, he gently asks, "could you… umm let me up, dam?"

Wrapping her legs around him, she shakes her head. "Oh no, mister. Your mom got you two nights in a row. You're not leaving my sight again today."

Letting out a defeated sigh, Cure accepts his fate and is tossed onto Vines' withers. Despite the part of his brain that wants to be more independent, he acknowledges that seeing him surrounded earlier was probably scary for his dam. Letting her dote on him is the least he can do.

Plus the squeaky wiggle dance she does is absolutely fucking adorable and he'd pay almost any price to watch it.

An hour later he's clean from tail to snout, his teeth are brushed, and he's wrapped up in his dam's forelegs held against her chest. Running another quick cycle of magic through his system he cleans up any lingering fatigue from the excitement and reinforces his muscles, bones, ligaments, tendons, and everything else, emphasizing a strong desire to never be weak.

With a last round of affection and goodnight's from his dam he promptly falls asleep while wrapped in her forelegs, more tired from the excitement than he'd realized.

Author's Note

Alternative guard defense option:
Cure: "I could have replaced his memory center with a copy of my own! Then there would be two of us!"
Vines: "Dear Sun and Stars, no! I can't survive two of him!"
Deed: "Somepony call the archmages! He's multiplying!"
Title: "That sounds kinda neat, can you share memories like that?"
Cure looks thoughtful, Deed and Vines are running for the door.

Ugh, this chapter took a minute. I must have had a stroke at some point because when I proofread it I found where I'd switched back and forth between past and present tense like... A LOT. All throughout it, too. I hope I got them all.

Anyway, this one's kinda long and the next few average like 9k apiece. We are getting close to some time skipping, though. It'll start slow around Ch 25, give or take, but at some point in the future I definitely need to start really moving the clock forward. We'll see.

Thanks for reading, all. I appreciate feedback, so if you have a thought please feel free to add a comment.

Chapter 18: Ascension

Friday, September 5th, 908 AB

Cure wakes up with a little yawn followed by a spine-expanding stretch. As much as he wants to keep snuggling into his dam’s soft, green chest his bladder is insistent that he deal with the remainder of the shake he had last night.

Navigating the darkened room and hallway is, for the first time in his life, actually kind of fun. Being able to see in the dark, even with muted colors, made him feel like some kind of spy or something.

I don’t care if I’m acting like a little kid. This is badass and I can’t wait to do the same for all my other senses.

Returning from the bathroom he finds Vines still asleep, laying on her side. A quick glance out the window shows that there’s still probably a little bit before sunrise. Knowing his dam is feeling a bit clingy after the incident, he fetches a book and his cushion and returns to his room to read; his enhanced vision perfectly capable of picking the words off the page even in the low light.

It’s about an hour later when the sun finally starts to crest the horizon and Vines begins to stir. Jumping on the bed, Cure pushes his head between her forelegs and snuggles into her chest again, waiting for her to fully wake. Within a few minutes she’s pulling him in tight for a hug.

“Good morning, dam. Sleep well?”

Letting out a big yawn, she squeezes him tight while stretching her back legs. “Good morning, sweetie. I slept wonderfully. You?”

“Yep, though I woke up a bit ago cause of that shake I drank last night. I should probably hold off on getting the big chug if it’s going to be so late, but I know I’ll use up the calories, so… meh.”

“Oh! That’s true! You said we need to eat more so we have more stores to turn into muscle. Oh that’s going to be so nice, no holding back at all!”

“Yep, at some point we’ll have to condition ourselves mentally not to overeat too much, though, so enjoy this while it lasts. I don’t want to have to keep zapping a bunch of fat stores in everypony just because it’s easier than putting down the fork.”

“Aww, but sweetie! Those candies were so yummy!”

“Well, we can get you some more today if you want, maybe without having to summon the guard even.”

“That would be nice. Are your sire and mom awake?”

“Not unless they just got up. I’ve been reading since I went to the potty. I didn’t feel tired enough to go back to sleep and didn’t want to wake you.”

“Oh honey, you shouldn’t read with no lights on, that’s bad for your eyes.”

“Dam… really?”

“Oh. Well, it is.”

“Then I’ll grow new ones.”

Letting out a sigh, Vines gives him another quick squeeze. “It’ll take a bit to adjust, sweetie. Be nice to your poor ‘ol dam.”

“Pfft, old nothin. Go do your morning routine, dam. I’m gonna drag my stuff back downstairs, then I need something to eat. Love you.” With one last quick nuzzle he separates from his dam and jumps down.

“Love you too, sweetie,” she calls back, finally sitting up and starting to climb off the bed.

Slapping the book and cushion to his back and side with his TK field, he makes his way downstairs. Since he’s too short to do much in the kitchen he simply resumes reading in the living room, waiting for everypony else to come down and join him.

It’s about fifteen minutes before his parents make their way down. Cure greets them all with quick hugs and nuzzles then jumps up to his spot at the table.

Vines cooks up a pot of oats while Deed gets the various berries and nuts gathered and ready to go. Title joins Cure at the table and starts poking through the day’s paper. Breakfast is served soon after.

“So. Plans for the day?” Cure asks.

“Well we have a closing this morning, but we’ll be coming home at lunch since it’s Friday. How about we celebrate this evening?”

“Sounds good, babe. What do you have in mind?” Deed calls from the kitchen.

“They’re having a rodeo over on the east side of town this evening. I think it’ll be a decent sized event. They’ll probably have some vendors, games, and maybe some traveling entertainment ponies doing shows for the little ones.”

“That sounds really nice, honey. Would you like to go, Cure?”

“Sure. I’m not sure there’ll be much to keep my attention but who knows what this world offers that I haven’t seen yet. Sounds better than getting arrested at least.”

Title giggles and holds up the paper. “Funny you should mention that. Guess what’s in the paper this morning.”

Ears falling at the possibilities, Cure hesitantly asks, “There’s not a picture of me in there right?”

“HA! No, Cure, printing pictures is expensive. They only do that for really big stories. Nope, just a blurb here in the neighborhood watch section about a scare involving a town guard threatening a young colt. Apparently that sergeant wasn’t joking. Damn near the whole town heard you.”

“Ahh fudge. Does it give names?”

“Never of children, no. It just says there was an altercation and the responding guardstallion didn’t act appropriately. Apparently he’s getting a reprimand and is being sent off temporarily to undergo additional training.”

“Pass me that when you’re done, babe?” Deed asks.

“Sure, honey, I’m almost done with it.”

“Crap. Drift and Glacial will probably never talk to me again.”

“Now sweetie, none of that was your fault. I don’t like that you were fighting but your sire was right. You did everything you could to avoid it, didn’t hurt the filly, and even made sure she was healed up before she left.”

“Still stinks…”

“I wouldn’t worry too much, champ. They know you have a cute lil crush on that Glacial filly and they also probably know you have your sights set on being a doctor. They won’t write you off that easily. You flat out told the sergeant they didn’t want to be there.”

“Yeah, I guess. Oh well, we’ll see. Dam, any plans for the morning?”

“I need to do a little work in the garden and head into town to get supplies if we’re expanding it tomorrow. Is that still okay?”

“Sure, babe. We’ll knock it out in the morning, first thing.”

“Oh good. We hadn’t talked about it since the other day. Cure, sweetie, did you want to come into town with me?”

“Sure, dam. Sounds fun. I wouldn’t mind grabbing a couple things too.”

“Dare I ask?” Title inquires.

“Nothing bad, just some rocks or something to work on the whole TK training thing. I doubt the general store will have a cheap set of weights and I suspect I’d need some decent weight to really do much.”

“Maybe after we’re done with the garden we can head to the creek, son. There’s some decent sized rocks down there we could use for decoration around the garden.”

“It’s not a bad idea, but not worth the trouble either. The gym every few weeks or so would be a better approach for me since I don’t need the constant repetition to build muscle. Also, I’m not trying to bulk up until puberty hits.”

“Yeah… that’s probably at least a year and a half away.”

“What? That’s for fillies isn’t it? I figured it hit around twelve for colts.”

“It does normally, but when you get your cutie mark early like you did that starts early too. You still won’t be considered an adult, legally, until fifteen, but you’ll be nearly fully grown by fourteen, probably. It’s a little different for everypony.”

“You usually grow a lot in the three or so years after you get your cutie mark, sweetie. For ponies that get it really young that doesn’t really begin until they’re about ten, though.”

“That seems insane. So I’m going to basically triple in size from age ten to thirteen? Humans get growth spurts during teenage years too, but not that dramatic.”

“Oh you’ll definitely gain a few hooves between now and then too.”

“Huh. Well that won’t sadden me. I hate being unable to reach the countertops. It would be great if I could help cook and stuff instead of just being in the way.”

“Oh, sweetie, you know I don’t mind at all. I’m just happy having you around.”

“I know you don’t dam, it’s not that. I accept I’m not ready for full independence, but other than using the potty by myself I’m completely dependent on everypony else. That’s not a fun thing when you have thirty years of adult memories in your head.”

“Don’t worry, Cure," Title starts with a sympathetic look. "You’ll adjust and, before you know it, you’ll be able to contribute more around the house. I think I understand what you’re going through. I definitely had to rely on my parents longer than I wanted to also.”

“Yeah, it’s not the relying part… well, I guess it is. I want to be able to help around the house and stuff. I remember when that realization set in after I bought a house and moved out of my parents’ that I used to get home from school and do nothing but laze around.”

Ears falling at the memories, he finishes, “My parents would get home hours later and, exhausted as they were, they still had to do so much. I regretted not being more helpful when I was literally doing nothing important at all most days while they worked, sometimes ten hours, then had to come home to work three or four more to take care of us.”

Vines gets up, wraps him in a hug and whispers, “I can’t even tell you how much you’ve already done. I will never ask you to do any more than you want to, honey.” Setting him down, she goes back to eating, ignoring the questioning looks from the property duo.

After a few minutes of quiet eating, Cure starts looking between his parents. After a few moments of them beginning to worry a little he finally speaks up.

“Hey mom, dad, I have a question. Have you had time this week to try using your marks outside of real estate specifically?”

“What do ya mean, sport? Real estate is where my talent is. " Deed turns slightly to show his mark, a pair of hooves bumping or shaking in front of a house with a pony family silhouetted at the entrance.

“Is it? I know marks are often pretty vague. Maybe yours is showing you making a business deal while providing for your family. Isn’t that how you’d depict a family? A group of ponies living in one house?”

Pausing for a moment, Deed turns and stares intently at his flanks.

“It may extend beyond your family. Maybe your true calling is setting up organizations to help families all over Equestria find better housing. Think bigger than the narrow focus you’ve accepted.”

“Mom, yours just depicts papers being searched through. Those papers could be anything. Titles granted, but also maybe invoices, tax records, research papers… you name it. You could have the most “human-like” mark of any of us, what with the focus on finding and collating information and all.”

Looking at her own mark, now, Title mumbles a "huh" before going back to eating.

“Dam, the cornucopia is another symbol from the same culture as my mark." With a scrunched brow he quietly adds "Huh… weird coincidence." Shaking himself out of thought he finishes his explanation. "The name means “the horn of plenty”. I had to write a paper about it when I was a kid for a holiday. It was an unending source of food for the young god Zeus, the head deity of the pantheon in that same culture. You may find you're good at organizing farmers, planning food-related logistics, or who knows what.”

“I know… ugh, I’m not even sure how to say this. I’ll just blurt it out. I don’t know exactly what it actually takes to ascend to alicorn-hood. My understanding is it involves self actualization and achieving your destiny.”

With his parent's full attention, now, Cure begins his explanation. “I think a big part of it is finding what you truly love, then finding a way to share that with as many ponies, and even other creatures, as possible to make the world a better place. I don’t know all of the deities or conceptual forces are at play in this world, but I know that higher powers are a real thing here. We’ve talked about the Age of Chaos. What do you think Discord actually is?”

The three look back and forth between each other for a moment before Title speaks up. “He’s some kind of spirit, isn’t he?”

With a firm nod, Cure answers “Yes. My understanding is that he is a purely conceptual being. That means he isn’t really a physical creature. If you stabbed him, for example, he doesn’t really have a physical heart or blood or anything like that. He’s basically a being of pure thought or energy or whatever, but in those stories he typically adopts a corporeal form for the purposes of interacting with mortal beings like us.”

“So, he can’t really be “hurt” exactly?”

“Not in a purely physical sense. If you cut him with a basic knife, assuming he even let it happen, it wouldn’t actually do anything to him, he may do something silly to his body to play along for laughs… you know, pretend, basically. Swing a butter knife at him and he’d probably fall to the ground in little chunks like you diced him up or something dumb like that. He wouldn’t actually be hurt though.”

With a mortified look, Vines interrupts Cure's rant. “I think we understand, sweetie. We don’t need to have you putting pictures of cutting anypony into chunks, though. Certainly not at breakfast."

"Right, well in stories conceptual beings can only be harmed with forces aligned from an opposing concept; typically symbolic or imbued with magic. If Discord is the spirit of Chaos then you would need some kind of "weapon" that would be conceptually linked to Order to actually harm him. The princesses used the Elements of Harmony to turn him into a statue. Harmony and Order are not exactly the same, but they're closely related concepts."

Following along with a nod, Title asks, "What’s all this have to do with alicorns, though?”

“As I understand it, and I may not be right with any of this, but it lines up fairly well… I just explained about the opposing force the princesses used, even if saying “they’re opposites” isn’t wholly accurate. That opposing force is what I’m talking about when I say Harmony. I don’t know if Harmony ever takes a corporeal form, though. I know there is a physical plant that is called the Tree of Harmony, but I don’t know if that actually is Harmony’s form.”

Still slowly nodding, Title mumbles out an “okay” and waves her hoof for him to continue.

“I believe that Harmony can empower ponies to, essentially, serve as its champions. That is what I believe an alicorn to actually be. Again, I don’t know but it makes sense. Alicorns are like ponies, just more. In human history there were myths about champions and the children of gods with mortals. They were often called demigods because, while they aren’t full-powered deities, they have that spark of divinity they were given or earned. And how did they end the Age of Chaos? They used their patron's weapon to defeat its opposing force. They were created or elevated for a purpose that they then fulfilled.”

“So… your theory is that alicorns are ponies that Harmony has empowered to serve as its champions. Why do that, though? Why not just stop Discord itself?"

“The same reasons any being would designate a champion rather than act themselves, probably. Maybe they’re not allowed to, or they’re otherwise limited. Maybe they're too powerful to act on a small scale and the fallout would be an even worse disaster. Or maybe the opposite is true, their power is limited but they can ignite the fire with a small spark inside of a worthy mortal."

“And in return for that, Harmony gains an immortal demigod lieutenant to act on their behalf where they won’t, can’t, shouldn’t, or whatever?” Title asks.

“Exactly what I suspect. Being paranoid as they are, humans believed such deals had to have some hidden downside. The only one I can think of is that you’d outlive everypony you care about, but I’ll probably do that anyway unless I just get bored with life eventually. I would be worried about alicorns not still having free will, but if that was the case then then Luna wouldn’t have fallen and become Nightmare Moon.”

"Jeez, son... you don't have to be so casual about outliving everypony. Yer gonna make yer dam cry."

"This isn't really a joking topic, dad," he says in an admonishing tone. "Statistically, I would likely outlive everypony here either way simply for the fact I'm younger." Ears and tail falling, Cure's eyes begin to water as he says, "I remember losing my mom before... it was sudden and painful, but nowhere near as horrible as watching my dad decline for four years after until I lost him too. I'll never forget finding a man I never saw shed a tear sobbing almost every morning for a year. I damn sure don't look forward to losing anypony, but death is a part of life too, even for gods and alicorns eventually."

Pausing to wipe his eyes with a fetlock, Cure takes a few deep breaths to recompose himself. "Sorry. I didn't mean to snap at you, dad. That... kinda hit a raw nerve, I guess."

"It's alright, son. I understand."

Hoping to push away the uncomfortable atmosphere that filled the room, Title tries to bring everypony back on topic. “So you’re telling us all this because you think that if we were able to fully realize our destinies that it’s possible for one, or all, of us to grow a horn and wings?”

“I have no idea, mom," he answers with a shrug. "I don’t know for sure what the requirements or the criteria are to be elevated. I know it’s possible, but I also know that of however many millions, billions, or however many ponies have lived in the last two or three millennia it’s only happened twice. If things play out like I saw, it’ll happen two more times in the next century." With a smile he adds, "If you really just want wings and a horn, though, I could already do half of that right now.”

Holding up a hoof, Title quickly refuses. “No thanks, I'm good." Getting back to the topic, she asks, "So if you're not sure what's needed then why tell us at all?”

“Because it’ll definitely never happen to anypony that simply accepts whatever life serves up to them and never reaches for more. There’s nothing wrong with that if that’s all you want from life, but if you want more you gotta put more into it too. Most ponies seem pretty happy with whatever lot life has given them, which is why I think so few ascend. Also, not everypony has the right mindset to serve the cause, if that's what's needed."

Tilting his head back and forth in an unsure way he adds, "I think it may also take a metric ton of magic too, though... but who knows what our magic capacity will be if we keep exercising whatever "muscle" that is for the next few decades. Then again, the next to ascend should be a pegasus beforehoof, and I don't think she will ever be what I'd consider a magical powerhouse, even afterwards."

Hesitantly, Vines looks to her son. “Cure… is this a path you see yourself going down at some point?”

Letting out a deep breath, Cure furrows his brows in thought. “Honestly, it’s not specifically my goal, but I feel as if it may be an inevitability. I’m already thinking of ways to prolong life, maybe indefinitely. I have several theories, at least one of which should work. Like I said, I don’t know what all is involved in the process, but if I live long enough I bet I can figure it out. Or at least eliminate a lot of what doesn’t work... and maybe even set it up to witness the actual event, eventually."

"I don't feel the need to reach for that level of power, to be honest. I said before, as weak as I am now I could still do almost anything with some time and creative thinking. Almost anything is possible with such a wide-reaching talent as "biology", so I'm not sure what benefit I would even see, especially if I can emulate or replicate the capabilities of horns or wings... even if I'd have to change my appearance to not be identified."

Pausing to consider the possibilities, Cure adds, “I see myself doing a lot of good before I meet my end, one way or the other. I’d like to think that eventually I’ll have done enough to earn the privilege, even if it never happens. I think that the part of me that is human refuses to accept that a door is out there I’m forbidden from opening. Humanity strives to always aim higher, something I just don’t see in ponies as much."

Looking around the house a bit Cure explains, "When I look at this house, the town, the technology level, and how far civilization has actually advanced in the last few hundred years that really leads me to think that either somepony out there is actively suppressing progress or ponies just aren't trying that hard. Society has stagnated, and if those stories are right, the overall technology level will barely change in the next century."

"I can't even put into words how horrible that is. Granted there were more humans to push progress, and more necessity with greater conflict, but in a hundred years we went from where ponies are, roughly, now to having leisure flights on spaceships, global communication... I don't even know. Everything about the world changed, and the rate of change was only ever increasing. Societies that stagnate eventually die."

Pausing for a moment, Cure throws his hooves in the air, "Humans didn't even have magic! They had to do everything the hard way." Pointing at his flanks he growls, "We have this ridiculous cheat and we're not moving forward at all! It's insane!" Tapping his chest he adds, "I will eventually be a single-pony medical-industrial complex." With a look to his parents he calms down and asks, "How have there not been ponies that can do the same for other industries? We should be cruising the stars after a few decades with potential like this!"

“Son… you ever consider that ya tend to overwhelm yer folks sometimes?”

“I don't know what to say, dad." Letting out another huff, he looks down to his bowl. "I have a lot on my mind too, obviously."

"You don't say..." Title mutters.

Poking at the oats he smiles and meets each parents' eyes. "Look, I wanted to say something to you because, ironic as it is coming from me, you only live once. Normally, I guess. There will always be things we regret. Harmony knows I have a few things I’ll never get the chance to fix," he says with a grimace.

Softening his look he waves a hoof at the three, "I’d hate to keep quiet and think one of you missed an opportunity as a result of my silence at some point. I would be thrilled to help any one of you to find a way to be more than just a real estate pony, or a documentation organizer, or a stay-at-home mom. Those are all fine, but you each have potential far beyond that, I know it. Any pony can change the world." Knocking on the table he finishes, "I won't stop until I do, or somepony makes me."

“Self actualization huh? Sounds like an admirable goal, at least.” Title points out.

“Yep. There was a good slogan that my country’s army used when I was a teenager. Be all you can be. It's a simple idea, but it's also the epitome of achievement.”

“Well I certainly moved past my princess phase, but I wouldn’t mind exploring if you’re onto something, Cure. I’m not sure how to go about testing your idea.”

“Start small. Maybe see if city hall has anything paperwork-wise they need help organizing. I wouldn’t take on a whole project without knowing, but maybe there’s some ongoing project you could volunteer a few hours towards. Government, in my experience, always has a mess somewhere and rarely turns away free help.”

“Any ideas in that noggin for yer pa?”

“I suggest you set aside some bits to take a class on investing. See if “providing for your family” is part of your special talent. If your mark can be applied towards the stock market there’s not a whole lot of bigger opportunities to make money than right there. You’ll at least eliminate a possibility if you find you hate it.”

“Huh. Those are all actually pretty reasonable.”

Scowling at his mom, he asks, “What kind of suggestions were you expecting from me?”

“No! That’s not what I meant. I just figured you would have some big complicated idea or something.”

Rolling his eyes, Cure continues, “I said start small. Simple usually works best. So anyhow, I brought all this up in the hopes that as you go through your day, if an opportunity to go beyond what you think your limits are comes up that maybe you’ll seize it. Carpe diem and all that,” he finishes, rolling his hoof.

“Well…" feeling slightly overwhelmed, Title looks at the window. "as … uhh… unexpected and fascinating as this has been, we do need to go ahead and start carpe’ing this diem. We need to be at that closing in a little bit. C’mon honey,” Title says while getting up. Taking her bowl and glass to the sink she gives Vines and Cure a quick nuzzle and kiss each, and slowly walks out the door, head in the clouds going over the colt's theories.

"Don't go flyin away on us too soon, son. Yer dam'll sprout wings just to chase ya down, then yer mom and I will probably starve or somethin." Wrapping his son and wife in a hug he gives them each a nuzzle and a "love you" before chasing after Title.

“Anything other than cleaning up the kitchen you wanna do before we head out?”

Vines takes a moment to realize she'd been asked a question, but she finally snaps out of it and looks to her son. “No, honey, just give me a moment and we’ll get going.”

Cure helps carry the last few items to the kitchen sink, marveling at how useful the whole body TK field is. He’s just tall enough to stand on his hind legs and reach the counter, and that’s all it takes to hold plates in his TK field and slide them up a leg and over his hoof, which he finds incredibly amusing.

Both ponies make a quick pit stop and grab the necessities before going out.

Once they have their bags, some bits, and Vines is strapped into the heavier wagon they start making their way to town.

“So sweetie…”

“Hmm?”

“You seem to have put a lot of thought into what may be possible with our cutie marks. Have you been thinking of what you could do beyond healing and changing things?”

“Yeah, but I’m not sure how much I can do until I have somewhere to experiment. It’s not like there’s room at home to build a lab and I don’t think you want weird plants in the garden. That would definitely get some attention.”

“No, I don’t think that would work. What kind of plants are you thinking about?”

“Well… I’ve got two really great ideas for helping ponies without my direct, constant involvement. The first came to me when we were at Amethyst’s house looking after the fillies. The other is a total rip-off of any number of science fiction stories.”

“Oh? I'm not very familiar with the genre.”

“They're fictional stories that typically take place in the future or have some kind of technology that hadn’t been invented yet. Space exploration was a popular topic. On a fully explored and conquered planet they called space “the final frontier.” I don’t think we have nearly enough time to talk about it, dam.”

“Oh.”

“No, I mean space itself. It’s a big topic. Literally, and no pun intended. My idea isn’t that complicated though. In several of those science fiction stories there would be a device that a pony would be completely placed inside of. For simplicity sake, imagine a bathtub.”

“Okay…”

“So you have this hurt or sick pony. You put them in this tub like device. It then fills with some kind of miracle healing fluid that gets all in their system and fixes everything. The specific one I’m thinking of was called a bacta tank.”

“Oh we have those, honey. They can regrow legs and fix bones and everything.”

Cure comes to a complete stop next to his dam. “What?”

“Mm hmm. We’ve had them for hundreds of years. Just put a pony in, wait a bit, then sing the right song, and they pop back out good as new.”

Searching his colt memories turned up nothing, but then again he’d never been hospitalized. Trotting a bit faster he catches up and walks beside her in a daze.

What the fuck? I know this world seems different from the show but I had chalked that up to… yanno… this not being a fucking kids' cartoon. Wasn’t a whole episode about Dash being laid up with a broken wing?

Wait… sing the right song? What the hell? Cure takes a moment to look at his dam. She's avoiding eye contact while trotting along the path. … she’s fucking with me again. This is the whole book thing all over again!

“What song?” Cure levelly asks his dam.

Playing aloof, Vines still refuses to meet his eyes. “Hmm?”

“You said you have to sing the right song. Which one?”

“Oh sweetie, I figured that would be obvious. Certainly one of your stories covered that, right?”

“I think I missed that part of the story, dam. What song do I need to sing if I ever have to put a patient in a bacta tank?”

“Well honey, there’s only one possible song that would be appropriate for somepony to pop out of a warm, fluid filled tank all fixed up like new.”

Utterly perplexed at this point, Cure simply raises an eyebrow at his dam.

Looking around to make sure nopony is nearby, she comes to a stop, then leans closer to her colt as he stops beside her.

Despite himself, he leans forward also. Cure thought he was ready to hear this magical melody. He wasn’t expecting such a familiar tune, though.

“Well sweetie,” she quietly whispers, “it goes like this… Happy birthday to you, happy birthday to you. Happy birthday, dear Sweeeetieee… happy birthday to you!” At his baffled look she leans over, plants a big kiss between his ears and resumes her walk to the store, giggling along the way, shouting “and many mooooooore!” over her withers.

Catching back up, Cure has to fight his ears to keep them from pinning down. “Nopony has invented a bacta tank, have they dam?”

Giggling again, she answers him with a smile. “No, not yet, sweetie. But I understand some really brilliant ponies are working on it. I’m sure they’ll have one working before too long,” she says, finishing with a wink.

“Glad to hear it.” Letting out an amused, faux-annoyed huff he explains, “My other idea is a little less ambitious, in a way, but probably just as complex. It’s one I can get started on today, actually. I would like to get a decent sized pot, some good soil, and a variety of seeds. Just a few each of various plants. Fruits, veggies, maybe even some trees.”

“What are you planning, honey?” Vines asks, looking at the colt a little warily.

“I want to make a Cure tree! Or maybe a vaccine tree. I’m not totally sure. When I was going to check the fillies over I thought about modifying a grape to have inert cells in it that would cause the immune system to recognize the virus, but it wouldn’t have been immediately helpful and unnecessarily complex, so I used the direct method instead.”

“So you want to make a tree that will grow these special grapes so ponies can be vaccinated without you being there?”

“Exactly. But making the fruit just vaccinate against one cold strain isn’t that helpful. I need a way for it to learn to add new strains and include them in the vaccine fruit too.”

“Will this plant look like a normal house plant?”

“Mostly. I’m thinking of a small bush for now. Something that can survive indoors year-round. It may take more fertilizer and water than a normal bush but that’ll be because of what it’s using its energy for. I’m still leaning towards a grape-like fruit of some kind though.”

Mulling it over as they continued walking, Cure had an epiphany.

“OH! They can lick the leaves! Or bleed on them, I guess, for bloodborne illnesses. Maybe I can make the leaf change colors when it’s “processing” and change back when it’s done. I need to get a sample of something with bioluminescence.”

Thinking out loud while walking, Cure goes over his options. “I don’t have a clue where to find that. A cave? There’s no way I’d just happen upon a cave with some random glowing fish in it.”

“I think you’re overlooking the obvious, honey.”

“Hmm?”

“You see them every night…”

“Every ni… AH! Dam, you’re brilliant!” Hopping with glee he gives his dam a nuzzle in her side. “I’m sure glad we didn’t have this conversation in like two months. I’d be really bummed if I had to wait until next summer for that feature.”

Walking ahead of her a bit, he turns and hops sideways while looking up at her. “How would you like your mane to literally glow, dam?”

“I don’t think that would be a good idea, honey. We don’t want to confuse the poor bugs.”

“Aww… you could start the next great fashion trend! I’d just need to tweak your mane hair follicles some. I’m not sure how though. It would take some experimenting!”

Unamused at the prospect of being her son’s test subject, Vines simply rolls her eyes and keeps walking.

“If I can figure out how to make some glass-like structure grow inside of a hair follicle that would work. Then we put some bioluminescent cells on the surface of your skin. You could have a style just like the princess! Just think of all the obnoxious fashion ponies trying to learn your secrets.”

“Sweetie, I think that’s exactly what we are trying to avoid,” she points out.

“Bah! No fun. Well I’m adding it to the list of options for my Nightmare Night costume either way.”

“Sun and stars, Cure, what are you planning for Nightmare Night?”

“I dunno dam. I haven’t ironed out all the details.” With a shit-eating grin and a clap he adds, “You’ll just have to wait and see. Good thing I have time to work on it though. Almost two months!” Thinking for a moment he asks, “Hey it just occurred to me. School should be starting up soon, right?”

“Yes, honey. The children that are helping their parents farm will show up a few weeks later, but as it stands now you and the other foals will start after next week.”

“Ahh fudge. Wait… As it stands now? You all come up with a Plan B? I’m not really looking forward to sitting in a classroom learning nothing for six hours a day.”

“You mentioned that earlier in the week. We’re thinking about applying to have you homeschooled. If we do you’ll need to be tested in Baltimare every few months so they can be sure you’re not being left behind. I just don’t know if that would be a good idea with so little time before school starts. You may need to go at least a few weeks until we can schedule the testing so they can see where you stand now.”

“That's fine. I can survive a few weeks or whatever. I’d much rather learn and study at home, though. Should I aim to do really well on the test or absolutely do my best?”

“I don’t know, honey. I’m a little concerned about what could happen if you do your best. If you’re wanting to lay low I would say don’t answer anything you expect somepony in a university would know, but get everything right you can below that level.”

Looking around with his enhanced vision, Cure ensures nopony is in hearing range. Walking close to his dam he whispers up at her. “We really need to find out what the official stance is on biomancy. We may be going through all this secrecy stuff for no reason, after all. I may just need to get a permit and take a test.”

“I… hadn’t thought of that. How would you go about asking without anypony finding out though?”

“Dunno. I bet there’s a list of banned magics in some lawbook somewhere. They can’t just declare something illegal and hide it away so nopony knows, then blindside them with it when they’re caught.”

“I don’t know, honey. You seemed very opposed to anything close to going public yesterday.”

“Well, I was thinking this morning that I didn’t really seek to learn how to do what I can do. It was basically thrust upon me. Make no mistake, I feel like I hit the jackpot with my talent, but there’s no denying it’s a double-edged sword. Either way, though, I don’t see how anypony could say, “Harmony blessed this child with this ability. Burn him for it!” It would be different if it’s something that's banned and I sought out to learn it despite that, though.”

“You may be right, sweetie. Maybe that can be something your mom can research into to test her cutie mark’s flexibility.”

“Good thinkin, dam. Maybe we can go to the library and sic her on the law books for a couple hours before we go to the zoo. Train tickets aren’t expensive are they?”

“No sweetie, not at all. You know, one possibility we haven’t explored at all is reaching out to family.”

“Yeah? I remember going to a reunion a few years back, but it was long enough ago and I was too young. I’m kind of surprised none of my grandparents have visited in years. Then again human families are a lot smaller and can travel far more easily.”

“Those are your sire’s family. You’ve never met my parents,” she explains sadly. “They were very unhappy when I found out I was pregnant. Very hurtful things were said. Your sire and I ended up cutting them off because of it.”

"What?" Taken aback at the very concept, Cure looks up to his dam. "I don’t understand. I mean, I get that I was unexpected… judging from my birth month I’m guessing you didn’t know you were going to get hit with estrus in the fall, right?”

"It was the first time I'd ever had that happen. I'd just gotten my cutie mark the previous year and didn't have that even in the spring."

“Huh. Well, what’s their problem? I thought having a bunch of foals is like… a big deal for most earth pony families. The fact your first foal is a colt should have been cause for celebration, I would think.”

“They didn’t like your sire, sweetie. They thought I should have married a nice farm stallion, not some “fancy business pony” like him.”

“Dad’s a fancy business pony?” Scoffing at the idea he continues, “Dad’s about as not-fancy as you can get. He’s no slob or anything, but… fancy? I’m just not seeing it.”

“Well he doesn’t spend all day pulling a plow or tending a field, so apparently he thinks he’s too good for them, so they think they’re too good for him in return. Your sire has no issue with them other than how they treated us. Him working a farm a few summers with cousins simply wasn’t good enough for them.”

“Wow. That seems like a monumentally foolish reason to cut off your daughter. Well, they’re still family, so unless you tell me otherwise I’ll treat them cordially, but don’t expect me to gush over somepony who thinks my sire isn’t good enough for them when we do meet.”

“I doubt you ever will, sweetie. I don’t think they’re interested in making up for everything. And I’ve moved on. I left almost everything behind to be with your sire. The only thing I took with me was my little recipe box and some keepsakes.” Walking next to his dam, Cure leans his head against her side.

“I’m sorry I brought up a sore subject, dam. Well, we all love you to bits, so if somepony doesn’t want your love then that’s their loss. Live the best life you can, I say. There’s no finer way than that to show somepony they were wrong about you.”

“That’s a wonderful philosophy, sweetie. I love you too.”

Motioning ahead with his snout, Cure asks “Is that the store we’re headed to?”

“It should be up ahead a ways. Not everypony can see that far, honey.”

“Yet. The word you left out was “yet”, dam. You just say the word and, once I’m done testing out these peepers you’ll have your own set. I really need to find.. A DOGGIE! YES!”

Sure enough, sitting up on a porch with an elderly mare was an old schnauzer-looking dog, lying limp next to its owner. Vines couldn’t help but smile at Cure as he nearly bounced over, stopping a meter short of the porch.

“Excuse me, ma’am?”

“Huh? Wussat, young colt? I did’n hear ya.”

“Is your dog friendly, ma’am?”

“‘Ol Fluffy here? You bet she is, son. Jus’ approach reeeel slow-layk. Let ‘er give ya a good sniff ‘n she’ll be yer new bess bud.”

“Oh! I’ve always wanted a pet doggie but my mom has allergies and she’s having a foal soon, so no puppers for me!” Cure offers as an explanation. Vines just stands there and rolls her eyes at his acting.

I swear, this colt’s too dangerous. He can put that “young colt” mask on way too easily. I can’t imagine if he’d decided to keep quiet that night. We’d probably never know about any of this. Thank Celestia he’s such a sweetheart.

Cure gives the old dog a few good scritches behind its ears, gushes all over it for a few minutes, then thanks the old mare for “letting him pet her doggie” before returning to his dam’s side. Tossing one last wave to the old mare and her dog the two resume their walk to the store.

“Well?” Vines asks.

“Got it! I’ll wait until the eye thing settles in before messing around, though. I don’t want to change more than one set of variables at once.”

“That’s probably a good idea. For some reason I feel like we should have done something for her though.”

Giving her another nudge with the side of his head, he explains “It’s because you’re a good pony, dam. Don’t worry, ‘ol Fluffy’s going to find her hips are doing a whole lot better when she goes to stand next time. That’s what took a few minutes. I may not have bought into the whole Karma thing on Earth, but I’m wholeheartedly a believer that what goes around comes around here.”

“Karma?”

“It’s this belief that when you do good things it puts positive energy out into the world. The opposite is true for bad, of course. Either way, the idea is that eventually those good or bad things will catch up to a pony. I am a firm believer that it’s a real thing in this world.”

“I’m not so sure how I’ll do the scent thing anyhow. Dogs have a much larger part of their brain to read the input from the nose. At least, that one did. I honestly expected a bigger difference between the dog and us, but our sense of smell must be way better than even I realized.”

“Oh?”

“Yeah, don’t get me wrong, that dog probably can still detect scents a few dozen times better than we can, but we’re still probably at least ten times as sensitive to smells as humans. Our ancestors probably used that as a method to identify each other as much as sight." Vines can almost see the light come on over his head when his ears shoot straight up in realization. "Oh! Duh! You said I would know if I were related to a filly I liked because of her smell.”

“Exactly, honey. Humans couldn’t do that, I assume?”

“Not at all. You would occasionally hear an anecdote about a couple discovering they were related, but families are smaller and everything is documented well, so it was typically more of a joke than a real thing.”

Oh a hunch, Cure quickly compares himself to the pegasus olfactory nerves and bulb in his Crosswind image, verifying a suspicion he had.

“I just checked. I haven’t scanned a unicorn yet, but pegasi have quite a bit weaker sense of smell than us. I’d expect unicorns to be closer to us than them.”

“Really?”

“Well you don’t typically get the best of everything. Sight was obviously more valuable for them, so that’s the direction their brains went. I wonder if unicorns have some magical sense that’s equivalent. We’ll talk more later.”

Since they are approaching the store, Vines and Cure stop conversation about anything they don’t want overheard.

Vines parks her wagon in the small lot to the side of the entrance and both ponies head inside.

“I’m going to go look at their loose seeds, dam.”

“Okay, sweetie. I’ll be at the counter since I need a lot of fertilizer. We have all the tools we need at home, so I won’t be long.”

Making his way past the other shoppers, Cure heads to the bins where a number of seeds for fruits, vegetables, and spices are located. The selection pales compared to the typical WalMart cardboard display in spring, but since Cure wasn’t looking for anything specific he just kind of milled around, taking a quick scan of each bin.

Cherry tomatoes would probably be just about perfect. It’s a vertical bush-like plant, I know they grow easily as hell, and the fruit are exactly the size I’m aiming for. I can just see it some day… every clinic, doctor’s office, and hospital with a Cure Wave Cherry Tomato plant sitting in the lobby. Just walk in, lick a leaf, wait ‘till it stops glowing, and eat a tomato. The Apple family is going to put a hit out on me…

Do I want to make money off of this? I bet ponies have socialized medical care, so maybe I can make a few bits off of this, but frankly I’m more interested in making sure nothing like THAT ever happens in this world. No, I think my parents and Cyndi would be proud of me, and that’s enough.

Plus I just finished saying I believe in Karma in this world. I hope it’s true because if I can pull this off, that should wipe out any horrible thing I could ever imagine myself doing several times over. Hell I may just need to go club some baby seals to bring my balance down some.

Grabbing a couple packets of cherry tomato seeds, Cure also picks up a few different beans, veggies, and fruit packets he thinks may have some positive health benefits. With a dozen different kinds of seeds he heads to his dam.

“Hey dam, I found the perfect thing. Cherry tomatoes. I also grabbed some other seed packets in case they have some good health benefits. I got all different kinds that you don’t have in your garden already. Are there any herbs you use a lot of that you’d like to grow at home?”

“I don’t know honey, some of those are really sensitive and don’t grow easily.”

With a completely deadpan look he just stares at his dam. “I’m confident they’ll do fine.”

“Oh! I hadn’t thought of that. I’ll go get a few too while they’re getting my order ready.”

“I’m going to go grab a nice pot and a trellis for my tomato plant!”

“Okay, sweetie. Gather everything you need up here and we’ll be heading out in a moment.”

Cure finds a pot that seems big enough along with a cheap support cage and brings it all back up to the counter with his seeds. Smiling up to the clerk he informs the big earth pony he’s waiting for his dam. She comes back up a few minutes later with some lavender, oregano, basil, and a few other spices and some additional pots.

The living room is going to smell really nice this winter, I can tell. I wonder if I can make a really neat little lavender plant that can help ponies fall asleep at night. Maybe make it glow a little so foals can have a nightlight too. I think I read about that being done in some story once…

“Didn’t you want some rocks, honey?”

“Ah, right. I’ll be right back.”

Man I really should have thought about putting Title on the case earlier. Then again, it’s only been like four days since I got my mark. If it turns out all this stress is over nothing I’m going to feel like a dumbass. The whole “can we trust the princess” argument is pointless if we just need to fill out a fucking form and take a test or something.

Then again, it’s not just the princess that I probably need to worry about… I bet any “registry” I ended up on, even if I went full legit, would be open to at least some noble asshole that could be a problem. I need to find a way to insulate myself from that kind of threat.

Looking over the selection of rocks, Cure finds a five kg bag of decorative rocks that vary in size and are all rounded. The larger rocks will get him started and hopefully he’ll eventually have fine enough control to easily move around even the pebbles.

Before heading back to the front he snags another small pot for his lavender plant idea.

How the hell can I keep my privacy, be protected, and do good at the same time? Maybe going through my sire’s family is an option. I have no clue what kind of group they are.

With all of the purchases gathered, the salespony rings Vines up and the two go outside to toss their items into the wagon on top of the dirt and fertilizer the clerks had loaded up. Cure stands aside while Vines gets back into the harness. “Need a jolt, dam?” He offers, waving his hoof.

“No, sweetie. Thank you but with the tricks you’ve shown me this isn’t difficult at all.”

“Awesome. When I had to deal with that mess last night I got a glimpse at what it looks like when adrenaline floods the system. If you need a pick-me-up just say the word.”

“That sounds useful.”

“Yeah, it’s useful in a pinch but it’s not a good long term thing. That’s not an issue for us, but also not something to abuse too often. If I may make a suggestion, try to rely less on the thing I showed you and more on your muscles. Work them a bit and I can zap ya at home.”

“Oh! That’s wonderful, honey. I may actually be looking forward to pulling a plow for the first time in my life tomorrow.”

“Right? It’s amazing how many doors open when you start exploiting something you never thought about before. You’re going to love the idea I have for that lavender. I’m totally ripping off another story I read, but I kind of want to surprise you, so no hints!”

“Aww, you shouldn’t tease your dam, Cure. Is that what that little pot is for?”

“No hints! Also, no teasing? Really, Mrs. “you just sing the right song?” You had me freaking out mentally for a minute there.”

“HA!” Covering her face with a fetlock, Vines smiled sheepishly at her son. “I’m sorry, Cure. It’s just this week feels like it’s been so crazy. To find out I accidentally flustered you for a change just struck me as funny.”

Cure simply waves the concern away. “You don’t need to apologize. I’m not upset, it was funny. You’re just normally so quiet and reserved that when you do finally get snarky I’m completely caught off guard each time.”

Leaning over and giving him a quick peck between his ears, Vines just smiles at her son and keeps pulling the cart.

They walk in silence for several minutes, just enjoying being beside each other on a nice day. Vines seems to be exerting herself a little bit, but clearly still has plenty in the tank.

“Oh! A kitty!” she hears him shout. Looking over, she sees an orange tabby walking along the top of a fence.

“Honey, you don’t know if it’s friendly,” she points out while slowing down.

“It’s okay, cats love me,” he says, approaching the cat. Stopping a couple body lengths away Cure opts to test his luck. “Hello, pretty kitty cat. Would you be interested in some free scritches?” Holding up his hooves, he adds, “No strings attached, I promise!”

The cat, clearly unafraid of the inferior lifeform that is only a couple hooves taller than itself, seems to mull over the offer for a moment. Jumping down from the fence it approaches Cure slowly, stopping a leg’s length away. Cure holds out a forehoof so the cat can get a good sniff.

“I’m sorry if I still smell like a puppy, kitty cat. I met a nice one named Fluffy earlier today. She seemed to like my scritches pretty well, but what do dogs know anyhow? I need an expert’s opinion here.”

Dam just shakes her head and watches. There goes the mask again. I swear, this colt…

Seeming to agree with the colt, the cat walks forwards and gives his leg a good forehead bump, then leans heavily into Cure and runs his side down the fetlock in an effort to remove the putrid dog-stink, as any good feline should for their servants.

Gently petting the cat and using his TK field to add some basic “fingers”, Cure ensures he doesn’t disappoint. The cat is actually a male, and has been exposed to heartworms. It looks like the cat’s winning that battle, somehow, but just to be safe Cure sends a wave of magical intent through Mr. Kitty to ensure his days of hunting are not so numbered.

After a few minutes of loving, Mr. Kitty has decided the supplications may cease, and proceeds to hop back up on the fence and go about his business.

Catching back up to his dam, Cure shoots her an apologetic smile. “Sorry about that, dam. I figured I might as well take the opportunity. I don’t know if there’s anything to be gained from cats, but I was really curious about how their claws work as well as their flexible spine.”

“Cure, sweetie… if you start clawing up the furniture I will get a spray bottle.”

“I’ll try to control myself, dam. No promises. As long as you don’t have me spayed or neutered we’re good.”

Almost tripping in shock, Vines’ head whips around to stare in disbelief and horror at her son.

“Joking! Sorry, dam, that’s a thing from before. Stray cats breed like crazy, so this one pony was famous for telling others to be sure to get their pets spayed or neutered. It was a legitimate problem in some communities, especially with how effective cats can be while hunting.”

Leaning over and nipping his ear, she growls in a low voice, “I swear, Cure, you’re going to give me a heart attack one of these days.” Letting go, she huffs at him and continues, “You just say stuff so casually that seems to come out of nowhere. You’re going to slip up one of these days if you’re not careful.”

“Ehh, I doubt it. It’s possible, I’ll grant that, but I could just as easily mumble something out in my sleep some day or maybe have one too many drinks and blurt something out. At least that I’ll be able to write off as drunken ramblings. Seriously, though, I am very careful when anypony else is around. You’re the only three I get to really be completely me around, though, so I tend to cut loose a bit.”

Sighing, Vines starts pulling the cart again. “I understand, sweetie. I just want you to be careful. And no drinking until you’re older. Alcohol is bad for you.”

Shooting her another deadpan look, Cure once again does the Spock eyebrow.

Rather than answer, Vines simply sniffs, turns her head up, and continues walking away with a mumbled, “Shush.”

“I wonder if I could make some killer hooch…” Cure mumbles.

“WHAT?”

“Dam! Why are you yelling?”

“I can’t believe you’re thinking of using your talent for THAT of all things.”

“Why? It’s insanely profitable and I could probably make the most premium stuff you can imagine. I bet I could cut the time way down too, I would just need to play with the yeast a bit.”

“How in the world do you know this stuff?”

“There was a vacation spot a few hours away that was all about the stuff. We did tours. You basically just put corn in a pot and heat it for a few hours, add barley, let it cool, toss in some yeast to start fermentation, aerate it, then let it sit.”

“The stuff in yeast eats the sugar and creates alcohol. It takes a while though… like, two or three weeks to eat it all. Then you just gotta filter it and distill what’s left. I don’t know much about that step, but I do know you’re heating it up to evaporate out the water and alcohol. Alcohol turns back into a liquid sooner, so that’s how you separate them out.”

Vines ignores her son’s mumbling and keeps pulling the cart. Of all the things, alcohol. Why not focus on making better yielding crops?

“Of course the real money is in the flavors. What’s your favorite flavor of ice cream, dam?”

“Ice cream? Mmm I like strawberry flavor the best.”

“Okay, it’s official. The first flavored one we’ll go for is Strawberry Cream. We’ll call it Dam’s Delight. We’ll make a fortune, dam!”

“I don’t know if I like that idea, honey.”

“Nah, it’ll be great. We’ll get a picture of your smiling face on it shooting a wink. Maybe with a straw hat on with some berries sitting on the brim. You’ll be famous, even without a glowing mane.”

“I really hope you’re joking…”

“I bet we can leverage all three of your marks for it. Mom can do the research and paperwork to set up the business, dad can work with retailers to set up contracts, and you can work the supply and logistics side talking to farmers and helping dad with the supply contracts. We’ll be set for life, no matter how long we live.”

“You… really think that could happen, sweetie?”

“Sure, it’s possible. Either that or, if it’s legal, I could make some really great weed.”

“Weeds?”

“Oh, recreational drugs.”

Stopping fully, Vines glares down at her son.

“Or not. Just sayin…”

“No.”

“I know it sounds bad-”

“Honey…”

“... but a lot of studies showed some were far less unhealthy than alcohol.”

“You. Are. Not. Making. Drugs. Understood?”

Turning away, he pins his ears to his head and tucks his tail under him.

Mufasa dying in The Lion King. Dad sacrifices himself in A Quiet Place. Andy gives up Woody in Toy Story. That did it… there they are.

Feeling his eyes watering, he turns back and looks up at his dam, pointing the most dangerous weapon in all of ponykind at Vines. “But… but… dam? I thought you would always encourage me…”

Flinching at the assault, it takes all of Vines’ willpower not to comfort her son. Looking back with a reinforced glare she simply says, “No. Nice try, mister,” and continues walking, leaving him behind.

Immediately switching off the “sad pony” look, he catches back up to her and gives her side a quick drive-by nuzzle. “Oh fine, be that way. I’m actually a little impressed. I didn’t know anypony could resist the sad pony eyes. I figured you’d give in for sure.”

“It… was distressingly difficult, actually. Don’t do that. It’s not fair.”

Shooting her a big grin he just says, “I know, but I’ve only got a couple years to abuse it, so ya gotta strike while the iron’s hot and all that.”

“You shouldn’t emotionally manipulate your parents, Cure.”

“Oh come on! Every child manipulates their parents. It’s part of the job. Besides, if you’d given in it’s not like I would have actually gone home and made something like that.”

“Good.”

“I don’t know how yet!”

“Cure!”

“What? I bet I could make some kind of edible that would cause the release of endorphins.”

“Wait… isn’t that what you said happens when you…”

“Achieve Enlightenment? Reach the Peak of the Mountain? Le Petit Mort?”

“Cure! … yes.”

“Sure is. The thing is, if you eat something you really enjoy that already does happen, just on a much smaller scale and, obviously, without physical stimulation. Well, depending on WHEN you’re eating, I guess.”

“Oh my Celestia, Cure! Stop it!”

“What? I’m not the first pony ever to suggest the two can be enjoyed together.”

“You might just be.”

Shooting his dam the most pity-filled look he can, Cure says, “Oh you poor, naive mare. Bless your sweet, innocent heart. You just wait until I get us that big home in Canterlot. Once my booze and “special” chocolate business take off, that is. Hmm… I know she prefers cake, but I wonder if the boss lady would enjoy some truffles too…”

“Cure! You can’t send the princess “special” candies!”

“Why not? If anyone needs one of those it’s her. Poor thing works too much if ya ask me. Of course I may need to up the intensity to work on an alicorn.”

“Really?”

“Oh yeah, I would have to put a warning in the box not to let other ponies eat any. Depending on how resilient she is it could be fatal to a unicorn or something. I’d probably just assume “peak earth pony” fitness and go from there. Maybe include a comment card so I can get her feedback.”

“Sometimes I think you may just be a little crazy, sweetie.”

“Everypony is at least a little crazy, dam. We all just express it in different ways. Some ponies talk to themselves, others obsess over work, food, material goods, etc. I don’t think coming up with alicorn-level recreational drugs is too bad. Well… when I say it out loud, maybe.”

“Well I’m glad you realize that.”

“After all, the target audience is just too small right now. There’s not a big enough market. No, you’re right. It’s crazy. That business model will never work. Good thinking, dam.”

“That… wasn’t exactly what I meant, sweetie.”

Walking in silence for a few minutes, Cure suddenly freezes mid step, face-hooves, and carries on. Stuck in his mind he doesn’t notice Vines looking at him for a moment until he just happens to glance her way. “Ah, sorry, I was in my own head a bit. I’m guessing you noticed that, though.”

“It tends to draw attention when you suddenly stop and smack yourself in the face, sweetie.”

“Yeah, well, I think I deserved the smack this time. I’m sure you remember our bacta tank discussion?”

Giggling a moment, Vines simply nods her head with a smile.

“Well, you may not have been as wrong about them existing as you thought. We already discussed pods, if you recall, yesterday after the excitement.”

Thinking back to the conversation, the spark of recognition comes to Vines. “Changelings?”

“Yep. Remember, I said they put ponies in a pod and they have dreams? Well I don’t think those have any healing properties, but they must do something to keep the ponies alive. Or, at least, breathing. I don’t remember seeing air tubes when those were shown and nopony drowned in the liquid.”

“I don’t suppose you know how they made them?”

“Not a clue. I don’t even know if I actually saw it in the “real” story, but I understand there was an episode where most of the heroes were captured and put in pods only to be saved by… Well, basically, a group of reformed villains that had become friends.”

“An episode?”

“Yeah, the story spanned several years and was broken into pieces, each one being what we called an episode of the overall story. Think of each one like a chapter in a book. Like I told you all yesterday, I read about it on the bookshelf more than actually watching the real thing.”

“Just be glad we don’t look the same as the characters in the story. They were smaller than us by a fair amount. Much shorter bodies, proportionally way bigger heads. Keep in mind, simplistic designs for children, dam. Their heads were almost the size of their torsos for crying out loud.”

“That would look really strange.”

“Downright alien is how it would look. Are half their organs in their cranium? And don’t get me started on how tiny pegasus wings were in the show. Like.. 6 feathers or something. They looked ridiculous. The earth ponies had no visible muscle either, and alicorns were basically all legs, again, with disproportionately tiny torsos. The worst part was how enormous their eyes were. I’m not joking, probably two thirds of their faces were eyeballs.”

“Why would they depict ponies like that?”

“Remember I said humans look at eyes first. I think most predatory species do… so do we, really. Well, eyes are a good way to visually display emotions and body language, so for little children it was an easy way to do that. Plus it made them look cute, I guess.”

With the house in sight, Vines begins heading off the path towards the shed. Cure grabs his pot, stand, and seeds and sets them aside.

“Is it okay if I scoop some dirt from the garden into this, dam?”

“Sure. We’ll wait for your sire to get home for the rest. He can help unload all this. I think I need a break, somepony is wearing me out.”

“Hmm, somepony should say something to that nuisance. I’m going to go ahead and start working on this tomato plant. Can I keep it in my room?”

“Sure sweetie, as long as it doesn’t get too big.”

“I’m actually planning on making it shorter. It only needs to be a dozen or so hooves tall for what I want. I’m just not sure if I can do it in one shot. If I can, I don’t even need this stand, but I want to be sure.”

Cure scoops some dirt into the pot, grabs a few seeds, and heads up to his room.

Vines, meanwhile, feels like she needs to lay down.

One hour of him throwing around ideas could kill a weaker pony, she reflects. First his ideas for our cutie marks, then talking about alicorns, spirits, gods, and everything else. At least the dog and cat weren’t bad, but then he brings up making booze or drugs… and sending them to the princess! Ironic that he’s going to be the death of me…

Pulling her husband’s cushion beside hers, she settles in for a nap. Enjoying the temporary quiet and the comfort of her stallion’s scent, she quickly falls asleep.

Author's Note

Everyone: "Total troll move with the title, author-san... troll move."
LFoD: "What do you mean? That's like... the main prevailing topic of discussion in the chapter!"
Everyone: /leonardodicapriosquint

So I'd made a comment about never seeing this approach before. Yes, I was intentionally vague, but in my defense I don't think I've ever seen an OC insert that has (granted, limited) metaknowledge, shares that with their family, and actively encourages them to start thinking about how they could be more than they are as opposed to pursuing it while keeping everyone else in the dark. I've definitely never seen any where the MC suggests making o-tastic edible drugs for the princess. Ah well, exploring can be fun, huh?

Frankly the concept gives me lots of insane ideas like... I dunno, NMM coming back and finding like a huge family of like 30 alicorns hiding behind the throne to throw her a surprise "Welcome Back" party or something instead of Big C chillin by herself. Maybe have her sister dangling over a fire pit to distract her while the M6 line up their shot. The boss lady's fireproof, right?

Chapter 19: Tree Plans

Friday, September 5th, 908 AB

Sitting on his floor, Cure is trying to come up with the best way to approach his “Cure Tree” (patent, and existence, pending). Looking over his notes thus far he’s still not exactly sure how he wants to begin.

Requirements:

Not too tall, preferably 3-6 feet

Do different things at different levels?

Fruit tastes good, preferably like candy for picky foals

Need to make sure you can’t OD on this at all

Maybe have something released in the mouth so a second fruit doesn't taste good?

Adaptable to new strains

Lick leaves?

Bleed on them?

Cough on them?

Same as spitting, licking on them basically

Have a mesh-leaf structure to catch airborne particles?

Don’t plants do this already? CO2 to O2?

Central stalk to move nutrients up and down

small tree instead of bush?

Hardy, easy to feed/water

Special nutrients needed?

May need proteins

Recycle discarded food waste?

Feeder slot like Venus Fly trap

Doesn’t need much sunlight. Able to absorb artificial lighting?

Maybe have a “canopy” layer at top for surface area

Bioluminescence for status, health, antiviral progress?

Have designated signaling leaves as well

Pulse green every minute for OK

Orange for processing new sample

Special patterns for lack of sun, nutrients, water

Pulse red for service?

Able to do more than just viruses?

Add more in Mk II plant, focus on viruses for now

Possible to add add’l leave for other problems

Other things may need different leaf surfaces for absorption

Bacteria (e-coli, salmonella)

Fungi / Mold (skin diseases)

Parasites (malaria)

Not sure how to target parasites, especially

Capture part for mosquitos like a fly trap?

Protein source and pest deterrent

Are WBC even the go-to for all these or are there other immune cells used for them?

Branding

Do I want to “sign” this somehow?

Maybe have trunk resemble MoD with vines wrapped around like snakes

Dam will probably appreciate this

Find some way to incorporate sire and mom somehow?

Find a way to add patterns to wood

Fun stuff (for Mk III or later plant)

React to songs? Music?

Have leaves dance?

Misc Ideas

Voice commands?

Admin privileges?

No clue how this would work

Man I don’t even know if this is actually going to be a PLANT by the time I’m done with it. I think it may need some kind of legitimate brain to function properly, even if it’s as complex as an earthworm. I need to scan more bugs and stuff, I know they’re incapable of “thought” but they do react to stimuli. I wonder if I could find much out in the garden… I didn’t think to look earlier.

For now I should try to figure out how the fruit will work…

Fruit Properties

Skin can be the same, maybe different colors if different things needed

Grape-size or thereabouts would be ideal

Mostly sugar insides for flavor

Antigen packets suspended in some kind of “pill”

Need to analyze actual pills to see how they get past stomach acid

Fruit needs to deliver the protein markers for viruses to the bloodstream

Protein markers will be inert, nothing attached or just a weak membrane with water or sugar inside

Unsure how many are needed to trigger effective immune response

Need to actually get vaccinated to examine contents

A single ounce of fluid is enough room for tens of billions of cells

May need to have ponies take a few cherries with them, eat one per day for a week if vaccine package becomes too diluted

OD concern again, see taste of 2nd fruit note above

Vitamin package to boost immune system against current infection?

I don’t think Vitamin C actually works

Need to test!!!

Becoming frustrated at his inability to magically pull the answer to all viruses out of his rear in an hour, Cure finishes taking some notes and wanders downstairs to see what his dam is doing.

Laying on her belly, Vines is curved slightly to her left with her head resting between her forelegs on Deed’s pillow. Unwilling to disturb his dam, Cure writes a note saying he’ll be outside so she doesn’t worry if she wakes and he’s not in his room. He sets the note on the floor nearby so she’ll see it if she wakes, then goes out through the back door as quietly as possible.

Deciding that he doesn’t have much else to do, he tries to scan the maple tree to see if anything useful could be hidden in the trunk. Unexpectedly, it takes an actual noticeable amount of magic to scan the whole tree. Only a few percent, but scanning ponies so far hasn’t given him that feeling at all. Chalking it up to the mass, much of which is actually below ground, Cure shrugs and carries on to the shed.

I wonder if I could tinker with that tree and make it produce syrup. I could tell it had sap, but it’s spread all over the place. Also, I have no idea how to convert sap into syrup. I assume you filter and cook it to get out particles, purify it, and evaporate some water, but I’ll need to look that up.

Hell I could probably just whip up a plant that will straight-up produce syrup and call it a day. That seems a lot easier than farting with a tree and cooking for hours on end.

Going through the garden, Cure checks on all his plants. While he’s at it, he scans a sample of each in case he wants to steal traits for his tree or future projects. He also finds a few bugs, beetles and pillbugs mostly and, out of curiosity for what secrets they may have, scans them too.

Taking the opportunity while he's alone he grabs a smaller pot, fills it with dirt, and takes a few lavender seeds to stash in his room for later.

Returning to the garden, Cure sets himself down between his control and experimental melon plants. Running magic through his mark, he first focuses on the control plant. He envisions his magic showing him the photosynthesis process in action. He can't actually see photons hitting the chloroplasts, but the creation of sugars from the reaction is visible.

Exiting the view he touches his enhanced plant and does the same. The view is similar, but the chloroplasts are packed in more tightly. More light is being absorbed and the channels carrying water and sugars are larger.

The whole process seems more efficient, but is likely still limited to the amount of carbon dioxide in the air. That was not a factor he had accounted for on Monday when pushing his magic to enhance the plant. Its capacity to process CO2 may be higher, but in a world with minimal pollution and far less fauna that would probably always be a limiting factor.

Given the likely processing power and whatever juice a protein strand synthesizer will take, Cure could only come to one conclusion. "My tree will probably need to be fed sugar…"

"That's fascinatin, sport."

"AHHH!" Shooting a good four feet into the air while doing a 180, Cure finds himself face-to-chest with his sire who is barely holding back a laugh. Title had no such compunctions and is doubled over guffawing like a loon.

"Now stop me if I'm wrong, but that's not usually how trees work. I always thought you got sap from the tree, not the other way around."

"Don't do that! I think I may have actually peed a little!"

Title just redoubles her laughter, now rolling on the ground while Deed lets out a snort. "I dunno bout that, son. With the way you shot in the air I think we woulda seen it catching the sunlight. Maybe even give us one of them mythological peebows arcing through the air."

Cure just scowls at his sire while Title finally gets herself together enough to explain, "We were calling for you for a solid minute, Cure. You were off in la la land until you started mumbling. That jump-spin move! HAHA!"

"Yeah, yeah… well anyhow… how'd it go today? Did that other sale close?"

"Sure did!" He cheered, scooping Cure into a hug. "Two for two, champ! Got another one lined up for Tuesday too. If this keeps up we'll nearly double last year just in the next few months!"

Cure, still pressed against his sire's chest, brings up a potential concern. "Hey dad, real estate is kind of a zero sum game. Somepony else isn't going to be losing their livelihood because you're having a record year, right?"

Setting him back down, Deed just shakes his head. "Now you could have a point there if I was somehow stealin away clients from one specific real estate agent, but everypony that's signed on with me wouldn't have all gone to one other agency. You're not completely off, but nopony is goin hungry 'cause of this."

"Ah. That's kind of a relief. I mean, family first but with the marks it felt kinda unfair, ya know?"

"I hear ya, son. No worries though. So, whatchya working on here? I distinctly heard something about feedin a tree sugar."

"Yep. Maybe we should go inside though. Dam was asleep when I came out and she's already heard some of this. I'm kinda getting hungry too. Seems like it's about noon, right?"

"Sure is," Title answers, "and I'm ready for some food too. C'mon."

The three trot inside and find Vines snuggled into Deed's cushion. Shooting the other two a mischievous grin he quietly sidles up next to her. Slowly lowering his head onto her, he inches forward, grinding his chin into her back, withers, and up her mane.

Dam musta been having one hell of a dream. Cure notes with widening eyes.

Letting out what can only be called a sensual moan, she starts raising her rear and flicking her tail back and forth.

Deed finally makes his way up through her mane, then pulls back, tilts his head so his mouth is just below her left ear, and uses his teeth to gently grind the base where it meets her skull.

The effect is… not something a typical colt should witness, especially involving one's dam and sire, Cure believes. I think she just squished. I am so glad I didn't enhance my nose yet. I'm starting to think I never should. Or maybe only when outside?

Looking to his mom he asks, "Should I… maybe step outside for a few minutes?"

Shaking her head, Title adamantly refuses. "No. They had their fun time last night. I'm hungry." Turning back to the pair, Title walks up to Deed and gives him a decent kick in the shoulder. "I'm hungrier than you are horny. Trust me."

Pausing, she tilts her head to the side to look over Deed's haunches to Vines. With a quick scenting of the air she adds, "Maybe not compared to her, but your son is standin right there, so clean up that cushion and our wife and let's eat."

Vines, now fully awake, is glowing red in embarrassment. Nodding her head she stands, letting Deed off of her, grabs her cushion, and quickly makes her way upstairs.

Deed, properly chastised, grimaces and follows her.

"Dad," Cure calls to his sire, making him pause at the base of the stairs. I'm a calm, reassuring voice he explains, "I'm not upset, I don't think anypony expected that, but dam's mortified. Make sure she knows I'm happy to see my parents in such a healthy, loving marriage, okay?" Getting a nod and a quick "sure, son" from his sire he jokingly adds, "I just maybe don't need to actually witness the evidence firsthoof, so to speak."

As Deed leaves the room, Title and Cure go into the kitchen. She starts pulling together everything for salads while he stays out of the way.

"She's going to go into estrus in a week or so, I know it."

"You think? I didn't notice anything when I checked everypony last night."

"Mmm, call it a feeling. We're right around when fall season hits. She got pregnant with you in the fall too, so I bet if you check in a few days you'll see her hormones winding up."

"Huh. That would be great to see. I could probably use that if somepony wants to have a foal outside normal estrus seasons at some point."

"You think you can induce estrus? Cure, honey… if somepony shows up to give birth in an odd month that's going to be noticed."

"Really? Like… nopony ever ends up pregnant outside of those two seasons? There has to be at least a few with irregular cycles."

"Maybe, but I would think they probably have some other health issues causing it that would make carrying to term difficult. I’m sure somepony has tried to trigger it with medicine or magic at some point, and I’ve never heard of that working out. To be fair, I’ve never actually heard of anyone trying either though."

"... yeah, that's a real possibility." After a moment of quiet, aside from the sound of movement, Cure asks, "Think they'll wait or go ahead now?"

"I think we'd hear 'em if they were doing it now," she answers with a smirk. At his deadpan look she sticks out her tongue. Finally she adds, "I doubt they'll wait. I'm sure we'll have a conversation about it but I'm all for her having another. I know they both wanted to for a while."

"Good. You weren't there but I told them about Cyndi and I. We never got to have kids together. She had her two, so we struggled financially, then by the time we were doing well she couldn't carry anymore. That's not an issue with me around but you never know what life will throw at you."

Setting down the food and knife, Title turns and picks Cure up and holds him against her chest. "I'm sure you were a wonderful father, honey, even if they weren't yours biologically. I know you'll be one this time around, and you'll make some mares the happiest they could ever be."

Nuzzling into her fur, Cure just nods and lets out a deep sigh. "Love you mom."

"And I love you too, son." After a moment she sets him down and, with a smile, adds, "Now unless you want to see how dangerous a starving, pregnant mare can be I'm going to finish getting food ready."

Looking down at his own stomach rumbling he nods in agreement. "Sounds good to both of us, apparently."

Deed comes down the stairs a few minutes later. With an apologetic look he helps out getting the table ready. Vines takes a few more minutes, but is still clearly upset that her son saw her like that. Sitting at the table she won’t even look up to meet his eyes.

"Dam, really…" Cure says, approaching the mare and doing his best to wrap her in a hug. "I'm not some traumatized child. It's okay, I promise. I told dad and I'll tell you, having a healthy, loving marriage like that is a beautiful thing. I'd much rather see you two… or three, sorry mom, caught in a moment of passion than I would see you fighting."

Title approaches the pair and wraps her forelegs around them saying, "That's a good attitude, Cure. I'm sure most children your age would be embarrassed, but you're absolutely right." Giving her wife a loving nuzzle she adds, "You have nothing to be ashamed of.”

Deed comes over and joins the pile, “I am sorry, babe. I… uhh, didn’t expect that strong of a reaction. Please don’t be upset?”

Letting out a deep sigh, Vines squeezes Cure a little tighter and finally nods. “I’m sorry too. I just can’t believe that happened. I think I may be starting to go into estrus. It is about that time.”

“I haven’t noticed any of the signs yet, honey. Maybe you’re just a bit ahead of schedule. I don’t think they would have planned a big social event tonight if it was supposed to hit early this year. It's normally about two weeks out or so, right?” Deed asks.

“I can check your hormone levels if you want,” Cure offers.

Deed and Title break off after another quick round of kisses and take their seats

“Sure, sweetie, go ahead.”

“Want me to help you recover from pulling the wagon too? I kinda forgot before you laid down.”

“That would be lovely. I don’t feel anything yet though.”

“Yeah, you typically don’t until the next day… and we have a lot of work to do tomorrow.” Still wrapped in his dam’s forelegs he activates his mark and checks her over. He isn’t exactly sure how to check for hormone levels, and he doesn’t have a “typical healthy mare” template to review. Amethyst's are close enough, he figures, even if the last ones were still her recovering from the virus.

Comparing two completely different mares at different health levels ends up being basically worthless. Hormone levels, Cure knows, can fluctuate in an individual, so unless one was significantly different from another it would be nearly impossible to tell at this point. Once again, Cure reaches the conclusion that he simply lacks enough data points to make a determination.

Regardless, he runs the “Get Swol” routine on his dam, encouraging muscle growth in all the fatigued areas, stealing a bit of fat for biomass, and flushing away any fatigue buildup while reinforcing all of the muscular support systems. The short walk back from the store with a loaded cart probably did as much good for her as a few hours of pulling should, he estimates.

“Okay, so if I compare your hormone levels today to where you were a few days ago there is a difference. The problem I have is that I obviously have never scanned a mare that’s definitely going into or is already in estrus. Title is pregnant, so no help there, and I’m not comfortable comparing you to the one other mare I’ve scanned and discussing anything related to her info. It wouldn’t matter if I was, you’re two different mares, and have two different baselines."

"That aside, even the difference I’m detecting could just be because you’ve had sex since I scanned you yesterday… and, again, no shame here, judging by what I heard it was a very energetic experience. Good job, dad,” he adds, shooting his sire a nod.

Looking inordinately proud, Deed grins back to his son. “Thanks, sport. You were right, by the way.” Title just nods and smiles before starting to dig into her lunch.

Glancing at Title, Cure adds a bit of awe to his voice, “Jeez, a twofer. Respect, pops.” Holding out a hoof from between his dam’s legs he gets a bump back from his nearly glowing sire. “But yeah, I always am. About what, though?”

Snorting at his son’s comment he answers, “The whole passing out thing.”

Cure can feel his dam heat up at the answer. Grinning and poking her in the chest he simply says, “Good for you dam. Anyhow, with your permission I would really like to check you at least every morning and night to see how your hormone levels change over the next few days. If you are going into estrus this could be a big help for me at some point in my life if I can witness the whole process.”

“Tell them, Cure,” Title prods.

“What am I missing here, son?”

“Well we were talking while you two cleaned up. I should be able to induce estrus if I have a general idea of what hormones elevate and what the entire process looks like. The body may just shut it down if it’s not during the right time of year, though. Too many variables, not enough experience… my motto this week, it seems.”

“Sweet Celestia, colt, no wonder the poor mare needed a nap.” Meeting his wife’s eyes he adds, “I bet he does this to you all day, doesn’t he honey?”

With a pitiable lilt she answers, “He does. You don’t know the half of it. I keep saying it, but he nearly gives me at least one heart attack every day from the things he suggests.” Looking down at her son she squeezes him again, “Not that I would trade it for the world, sweetie. It’s just a little scary at times.”

“Meh, I get it. If I were you I’d probably be reaching for a stiff drink after an hour of putting up with me. Oh! That reminds me. Dad, dam is somewhat opposed to it, but how would you like to start making hooch or selling recreational drugs?” he asks, ignoring the suddenly much tighter legs wrapped around him.

“Uhh wuh?” Title contributes, pausing mid-bite.

“I haven’t tried yet, but if you give me some yeast, water, sugar, and a jar I bet I could whip up something that would make yer mane stand up on end before you start walking into walls.”

“Uhhh…” Deed starts, looking to Title for help he only gets a shrug back in return. “Maybe not the drugs so much, son. I think there’s laws against that. Also, probably against just suddenly selling alcohol. Now for home use, maybe. Are you serious, though?”

With a sigh and a head shake Vines sets Cure down. Apparently the subject change finally pulled her out of her funk enough, or the suggestion annoyed her enough she forgot about being embarrassed.

“I wasn’t really… but hey, why not?” Cure asks, headed back to his booster chair.

“I was poking around the maple tree and thought about making syrup, but I don’t really know exactly what’s involved. It occurred to me that the tree is unnecessary when I could just whip up something that would literally output straight syrup. The alcohol talk was earlier, but same thing. I may just need yeast, not sure if barley will really be necessary.”

Deed pauses mid-bite to ask, “I heard you say you had to feed somethin sugar though, son. What’s the point of turnin sugar into syrup?”

“I was talking about the Cure Tree Mark One!” he announces, waving his hooves dramatically, despite the lack of fanfare.

“Bah, y’all are terrible cheerleaders.”

Filling in for her son, Vines explains, “He’s talking about a plant he wants to make that will produce fruit that a pony can eat that has the stuff in them to vaccinate the pony. He was thinking a cherry tomato plant would be a good start.” Finished adding her two bits, she starts digging in too.

“Yep, totally separate from the syrup thing. I have a page and a half of notes, so maybe I can get them after we’re done eating and go over it. Sometimes you miss the obvious, so second set of eyes and all that. I think I need to get an actual vaccine so I can analyze it as I’m being injected. Does everypony know how a vaccine works?”

“Just the broad details, Cure. You get a shot, your body reacts, if you encounter the same virus again you won’t get as sick or won’t get sick at all since it recognizes it.”

“That’s the gist of it. The vaccine isn’t actually the virus at all. A virus is a small thing, way smaller than even a blood cell. On its surface it has things that let it latch onto a cell, slip inside it like a drill, and then reprogram the cell to make more viral cells. A vaccine just looks like the virus from the outside, that way your immune system is basically tricked into attacking the real thing.”

“I think they use real viruses, just dead or something.”

“I dunno, maybe. Humans used to years ago before we figured out how to use something harmless. The problem with real viruses is you may not kill all of them and then the pony could catch the actual infection. I bet they do something magic-wise to prevent that, though.”

Title summarizes his plan for everypony. “So you have a cherry tomato plant that will have vaccinated tomatoes. A pony eats them, their body is exposed to the fake virus that’s actually harmless, and then if they encounter the real thing they’ll be immune or at least ready to fight the virus.”

“Exactamundo! I also want the tree to learn how to attack new viruses, plus it needs to be able to survive indoors. I’m thinking each hospital, doctor’s office, or clinic could have a tree in the lobby. Or even pharmacies. A pony walks in, coughs on the tree, the tree isolates the virus, creates a vaccine on the spot, and the pony can eat the fruit.”

“But they’re already sick…” Vines says.

“Yep, and that’s one of the problems. The other is updating other trees, of course. I need to have the fruit not just have the vaccine, but also an active antiviral agent specifically for the new strain.”

“That sounds really complex, Cure. Even with your mark, that's a big project.”

“It is. I can see it taking a few generations just to get the shape and size of the tree right. Also, in nature plants make their food via photosynthesis. These will be designed to work indoors, but with all the energy they’ll use doing what they do…” he waves a hoof at Deed.

“That’s why they’ll need to be fed sugar. They won’t be makin enough on their own.”

“You got it, dad. I have no idea how much sugar or how often, or even if it’ll be absolutely necessary. I won’t know until I have a working prototype and can analyze how much energy it takes versus how much it generates. It may be that it only needs sugar when the fruit is in heavy demand or when it’s creating new antiviral agents.”

“Well let’s eat and then we’ll look at your notes,” Title suggests.

Everypony seems to agree, so they all get to work on what’s on their plates.

“Remember, eat more than you think you need for now. I want you all building up your fat stores, especially you mom, so I can convert it all to muscle. We need to start taking vitamin D supplements or drinking more milk too, otherwise the muscles will be tough but the bones will lag behind. Good thing we get calcium from greens.”

“Oh no. My doctor says I need to eat more. Woe is me,” Title giggles out between bites.

“Ponies are lucky, we get everything we need from veggies. Eat until you’re stuffed, I can boost your digestion and make sure every scrap of nutrients goes towards strengthening the body. Muscles, tendons, ligaments, bones, all of it. A bit of work and plenty of fuel and you’ll all be at peak health in a couple months, maybe weeks… something that would normally take years of backbreaking work.”

“Don’t forget eyes!” Title adds.

“Oh and nose, if you want. There was an old puppers sitting on a porch on the way to the store. I also ran into a cat on the way home, so if you want claws or a super flexible spine let me know. Don’t get any ideas, dad,” he adds with a snort

Both Vines and Title spit-take straight salad across the table as Deed busts out laughing.

“HA! Oh damn, son, I can’t wait until you’re old enough to go drinkin. The other fellas won’t know what hit ‘em.”

“Yep, plus no hangovers.”

“Son… have I told you that I love you?”

“Only conditionally, dad.”

“Glad to hear you were payin attention, colt.”

Despite the leaf-shower that half the table suffered, everypony finished their meals with little conversation from there on.

Once the table is cleaned up Cure fetches his notes and meets back up with everypony in the living room. Cushions are all pulled together with Cure in the middle, Deed on his left, Vines on his right, and Title half on, half to the left of Deed looking over his shoulders.

“So here’s what I have so far. Ignore the human terminology, a foot is about three hooves. Dad should be roughly four feet tall at the withers, so just go from there.”

“You really should convert that.” Title points out, “If somepony saw these notes it would raise even more questions with stuff like that in them.”

“Yeah… you’re right. Old habits die hard.”

“What’s a venus fly trap?” Deed asks.

“It’s a small plant that has a mouth-like structure. I think it uses some scent to attract bugs, tricking them into landing inside of it. Then it eats them. They’re tiny, though, so no pony-eaters or anything.”

“There are plants like that in some of the forests. None near here thankfully. Don’t ever go in those forests alone or with only other foals,” Vines insists before adding, “or, ever at all, if you can help it.”

“I’m aware there’s all manner of beast in the forests in Equestria. You don’t have to convince me not to go in. I promise I wouldn’t even consider it unless I was fully grown and well prepared. Still, good to know it's safe around here.”

“Why a tree instead of a bush?” Title asks.

“I figured with a primary central trunk it could move nutrients faster. No clue if that’s true or not, but I’m also not really sure where the line between tree and bush is, exactly. I think it’ll be more of a small tree than a medium-sized bush, really.”

Getting a kiss on the head from his dam, he turns to look at her as she says, “I love the trunk and vines idea, sweetie. Some vines wrapped around your tree in place of snakes would be adorable.”

Pointing at the sections under “Able to do more than viruses” Deed explains, “I don’t recognize some of these. Malaria? Salmonella? Do those ring a bell for anypony?” Title and Vines both shake their heads no.

“Meh, they could have different names or just not exist on the planet. I’m sure I’ll learn that stuff in medical school. Salmonella is something chickens can carry. I guess it wouldn’t be an issue for you all since it’s not like you’re butchering them for their meat.”

“No but maybe that’s something that griffons can catch,” Title notes.

“I’ll worry about other creatures later. I think we’re genetically close, but I would need to scan a few to know more. I wouldn’t mind learning more about other creatures eventually. Right now I don’t even know what is and isn’t offensive to any of them. I’d probably tick them off first thing somehow.”

“That’s not sayin much for griffons,” Deed explains. “They’re ready to fight at the drop of a hat from what I’ve heard. And grandpa said dragons are almost as bad. They probably feel like they have less to prove, though.”

“Ah, griffons suffer from short man’s syndrome eh? Gotta always prove how tough they are?”

“You betcha.”

“Not a good thing on something with that many claws,” Title observes.

“Indeed it isn’t,” Deed agrees with a nod.

“You all have anything about the tree or fruit that comes to mind?”

“You need to be able to make more of them, sweetie.”

“Oh, duh. Yeah, the fruit won’t really be seeds, so I guess I’ll need to make them produce an actual seed somehow.”

His dam nods and suggests, “Maybe have it make one when it has enough spare nutrients? That’s what fruit typically is… a container for the seeds.”

“Hmm… yeah, it may need a bit more umph to make a viable seed that still carries all of its strain information. The seed will be more of a clone than actual offspring, but that’s fine.”

“Can you make it so the fruit can be fed to other trees to spread their info around?”

“Huh… yeah, that’s actually a good way of doing that. Good call, mom. I can’t believe I didn’t think of that. I was trying to come up with some special leaf or whatever, but I can just go with the fly trap mouth idea as an input port.”

The parents look over the list for another moment without comment. Getting the impression they weren't coming up with anything new, Cure prompts them for other ideas. “Anything else?” Seeing everypony shake their head no, he closes his notebook. “Okay. Well I dunno about you all, but I’m getting the after lunch sleepies.”

Letting out a huge yawn, Deed nods in agreement. “I hear ya, champ. It’s nice to be home for the weekend, how about we take a nap?”

“Well dam just slept for an extra hour, so I have an even better suggestion.” Ignoring the muttered “oh no” from his dam he holds one hoof in the air, and in an exaggerated cheer shouts, “Let’s go for a run!”

All three parents scowl at him in return.

“Oh don’t be lazy ponies. We’ll go for a run through paths in the woods to the south, come back, get all cleaned up, take a nap, eat dinner, and head to the rodeo. You don’t need to sleep for hours on end all afternoon. Trust me, you’ll feel great. I’ll make sure of it.”

At the deadpanned response he raises an eyebrow. “I’m going to make sure you get about ten times the benefit from a single exercise session as you should and eliminate any fatigue and y’all are seriously going to scowl at me? Come on!”

“Ugh… he’s entirely too cheery about it, but he isn’t wrong. We should get off our rears and burn off some of that lunch. Plus that means we can eat more when we go out tonight!”

“That’s the spirit mom! Love the enthusiasm! Who wants to carry me first?”

Shooing him with a hoof, Deed shakes his head. “Oh no, no way colt. You’re leadin the charge from the front here.”

“Ahh… fine. C’mon, let’s go.”

After everypony completes their pre-departure checklists, the family gathers in the living room. Despite the grumbling, everypony follows him out the door and to the south. The lightly wooded area has a pond on one end and several paths for ponies running or walking in the area.

Gathering just before the entrance, Cure looks to his parents. “I don’t think I’ve been here more than a few times. Do any of you know the paths well enough? I can lead but I’ll get us all turned around in no time.”

“I’ll lead, I used to come here to run before I met your sire.”

“Alright, set the pace mom. Oh, before we go, everypony line up for a little energy burst. I’m going to tell your body to pull on fat stores a bit more aggressively for energy so you'll be able to go farther, hopefully.”

After giving everypony a tap the family takes off at a decent pace with Cure working twice as hard as the adults to keep up. Deed is doing fairly well, but Vines clearly isn’t enjoying herself. After about a mile, Title slows to a walk to allow everypony to catch their breath.

“Aight, everypony give me a hoofbump. Dam, I can tell you’re hating this. Want me to induce a runner’s high?” Cure asks, while giving Deed and Title each a boost.

“I don’t know what that is, sweetie. I’ve never done much running.”

“Well it’s when you’re running and, despite how much running sucks, you suddenly feel full of energy and ready to race up a mountain. That’s a runner's high. It makes running almost fun.”

“Is that why you’re not breathing hard at all, son?”

"No, I'm testing something else. So far so good.”

“Care to share?” Title asks.

“I stole an idea from bugs and am collecting oxygen through my skin, basically. I’d offer to give the upgrade, but I’m betting there’s a reason larger creatures don’t normally do this, so I figured I should test it on myself first since I can monitor it. I could probably totally stop breathing… but I bet holding my breath too long would be hard on my lungs.”

“Huh… weird,” she observes.

“Yeah, it works better when we’re running though. More air hitting the skin.” Looking back to Vines he waves a hoof, “So, dam?”

“Sure, honey. Anything to make this less miserable.”

Cure gives her a hoof bump and tells her system to release a small amount of endorphins as she runs. Giving her a quick “all set” and a nod to Title, the family resumes its pace.

Cure and Deed take up the rear so they can keep an eye on Vines, though it proves to be unnecessary as the next few miles seem to breeze by.

When Title stops again Cure checks how everypony is doing. “I’m not sure how far I should run in a day, honestly,” he tells them. “I don’t remember doing much endurance running before, and I’ve definitely gone way farther than I used to be able to.”

“I’ll say, son. The fact that you’re barely breathing hard is amazing. I think most colts your age would be dragging after two or three kilometers. We’ve done at least five and I feel great.” Pausing to do a few stretches, Deed is amazed to find his legs still feel good as new. “This is awesome!”

“Damn right it is. I’ve run plenty to stay in shape. I can’t say I ever enjoyed it though. Just being able to go without getting tired?” Her tail wagging like a dog, Title sits up and claps with her forehooves. “It’s actually making it kind of fun! Let’s keep going!”

“I’m not so sure I would call this fun, but it is nice to get out as a family. I wouldn’t mind going a little further before we head home.” Pausing to look herself over, Vines cringes a bit and notes, “I am still getting sweaty though.”

“Yeah, that’s a good point, dam. We should walk a little bit. Even if we’re not tired we’re still going to heat up. How about we go a couple more kilometers, then walk home?”

“We could always go for a dip in the pond,” Title says, pointing down one of the paths. "It’s not deep and shouldn’t be too warm. It’s about a kilometer and a half that way.”

“That actually sounds perfect. Are you okay with that, dam?”

“That’s a good idea, dear. Sure, sweetie, we can go for a dip.”

“Alright, lead the way, mom. Just be glad, dam… our sweat isn’t bad at all.”

“Oh? Another human thing, Cure?” Title asks from over her withers.

“Yeah, they get horrible body odor when they sweat. I literally couldn’t leave the house without putting chemicals all over my armpits or I’d be a stinkin mess in under an hour… and keep in mind that human noses were weak compared to ours. It stank even then, I can’t imagine how potent it would be now.”

On the way to the pond Deed asks Cure, “So son, what’s this test you’re running? Seems like it’s working pretty well so far.”

“Well you remember I said I got the idea from bugs?” After a quick “uh huh” he continues, “They don’t have lungs… they get air through their exoskeleton or skin with these small lung-like structures.”

“So… you have small lungs under your skin?”

“Sort of, but they’re small enough you would need a magnifying glass to see one, assuming you could through my coat anyhow.”

“Ahh, added a bunch, didja?”

“Quite a few, yes. It’s not something I think I could give somepony else, not without doing some work on their lungs too. I was actually maintaining enough oxygen in my blood that the lungs weren’t getting enough carbon dioxide. It could be bad for somepony that can’t monitor it.”

“Gotcha. Shame, we’re all huffin and you’re barely breathin hard with them shorter legs.”

“Pfft… you’d all be collapsed by now if I wasn’t buffing your system way up. Of course I’m over-healing you all enough you could probably do this again without me tomorrow if you ate enough tonight.”

“Really? You’re doin that much?”

“Yes. Enough that I’m not sure we even need to go to Baltimare for a gym. If we were hitting all the muscle groups I would say we don’t, but we’re barely touching some of them. I don’t think we’ll need more than one visit to the gym. This ability is so unfair.”

“Sure is. It’s probably the most versatile one I’ve seen.”

“Eh… it’s up there. I suspect they all could be if applied right, though. There’s at least one that blows mine away though.”

“Oh?”

“Magic. A unicorn that has the special talent “magic” is just unfair.”

“That sounds like it could be.”

“Yep, she might as well be good at anything, since you can basically do anything with magic.”

“Yeah?”

“Yep, enough that even I’m jealous. Oh well, I think I’ll manage just fine.”

“I think you’ll do alright, son.”

"Thanks, pa."

Coming around the bend, Title slows her pace to a trot. The pond has several families in and around it enjoying the day. Cure spots Heavy Lift, his dam, mom, and two sisters on the far side.

"Hey I'm gonna head over to say hi to Heavy. Give me a quick round of hoofbumps so I can fix ya up."

"Okay sweetie, if you want to stay and play that's fine but you need to come home in time to get cleaned up before tonight."

After one final round of recovery buffs Cure tears off to play with his friend.

Watching him go and, from the look of things, chat up a storm with Heavy, Title can only shake her head as she walks towards the water with her mates.

"Sweet Celestia, Vines… how the hay are you doing it?"

"What's that, honey?"

Snorting, Deed doesn't give Title a chance to answer. "Maintainin your sanity. The colt's a dozen bales of hay in a two bale cart. He's got more ideas than any twenty ponies I know and seems to be incapable of wearin out. I think he only sleeps out of habit at this point."

All three ponies make their way into the water, wading in until they can lay down with their backs mostly submerged. Sitting so there's just enough room for water to get between them they all sigh in relief.

"He is still my sweet baby. He's just more inquisitive and energetic than most colts. But he's so much happier than he was before he spoke up."

"He is definitely doing well. It takes a strong will to deal with something like that. We need to figure out what we're doing next though. He's coming up with ideas faster than anypony could manage and the only thing holding him back from doing more is time and resources."

Title looks to Deed and asks, "Are you thinking about reaching out to your grandsire?"

"Kinda am. We can't keep the family in the dark forever," Deed explains. Nodding towards his son he adds, "Like he said, family first, and eventually something will get out anyhow. We need to be ready and I think this is turning into more than we can manage ourselves. We're doing him a disservice at some point if we don't reach out."

"Yeah, after last night I would definitely sleep better if he had some protection. I still can't believe that got so far out of hoof,” Title complains, slapping some water in frustration. “That was a third of the damn guard for the whole town over a children's scuffle."

"It was pretty crazy," Deed agrees. "Honestly I’m a little concerned about that guard. What kinda grown stallion gets in a young colt’s face like that?"

"Makes me wonder what their home life is like," Vines adds. "Little fillies hunting down and surrounding another foal like that… that's not something I would expect from a child. They learned that kind of behavior somewhere, I know it."

"Eh… foals aren't quite as innocent as you give 'em credit for. Besides, if somethin's goin on in their home it's outta our hooves either way."

"Yeah…" Title reluctantly agrees. "So Vines, honey? Are you okay with reaching out to Deed's grandpa? I've only met him once, and he barely said two words to me, so I'm not sure. All I've got to go on are the stories."

"Oh I think we can trust him to look out for Cure. I am a little worried they will bump heads a bit though… Cure is such a sweetheart and Brick is… well…"

"He's a jerk, babe," Deed flatly says. "Total hardflank but if he was nearby when Cure yelled like that they woulda been carting that idiot off in a bucket. Gruff as he is, you don't mess with family. He'll open a lot of doors for the colt. Plus he'll love any booze ideas the colt comes up with. I bet it'll make 'em proud."

"If you're sure, sweetie."

"Eh, what's the worst that could happen? It's not like he'll foalnap him or something."

Title looks over towards Heavy's family and lets out a deep sigh. "He's doing something."

Turning, Deed lets out a quick "huh…" while Vines chuckles with a "yeah… all day."

Over where Heavy's family has been hanging out there is now a large flock of ducks. Heavy's little sisters are rolling around playing with the younger ones while several hens are climbing all over Cure, apparently trying to clean him.

Title spots Heavy rolling on the ground laughing at his friend while Cure endures the aggressive attention. The dams can only watch in disbelief as other foals are making their way over to investigate and join in.

Grumbling, Deed looks between his wives. "Well… I wonder what he's learned from ducks. The colt better not start layin eggs."

"HA!" Title barks out a laugh. "I think he'll make a wonderful mommy!"

"We should probably go see what's going on, honey."

"Yeah. I guess so. I'll put together a letter for grandpa when we get home. I can drop it in the mail when we go into town tonight. We'll probably hear back in a couple weeks."

"Be careful what you put in it, babe," Title suggests, "you know stuff doesn't always make it to the right pony."

"Yeah, Grandpa made sure to drill us on protocol every time he visited when we were growing up. I know what words to use to subtly get his attention. Just the fact I'm sending him something out of the blue should make him curious."

Author's Note

Sorry this is much later than I expected. Unforeseeable circumstances kept me away from my computer for the last 48+ hours.

Chapter 20: Rodeo

Friday, September 5th, 908 AB

"You smell funny," Vines observes as the family approaches the house. "I thought it was the ducks, but it's you.” Giving Cure a critical look she asks, “Why do you smell so weird?"

"There's a very good reason for that, dam. I had four momma ducks practically throwing themselves all over me, much to the amusement of mom and dad, I noted," Cure says, giving his other two parents a mild glare.

Deed and Title simply smile back, clearly unperturbed by the colt's annoyance.

"We figure you probably did something, likely a dumb thing mind you, to earn all that attention. What kinda parents would we be if we didn't laugh at your mistakes?"

"Normal, I think."

"Your mom's right, son. We know you did something.” Bumping the colt with a foreleg he prods, “C'mon, ya know you wanna share."

Grumbling under his breath, Cure gives in barely a moment later. "Fine. I copied their… what's the word? Their chicks' scent." Wait… chick doesn't sound right. "Is chick right for a baby duck? No, wait, duh, duckling. Yeah, so when I did that I think I might have gotten the potency a bit wrong. Or the quantity. Something, obviously, wasn’t right."

Title looks at him confused, "All that was because you smelled like their ducklings? That doesn't sound like it would cause that."

"Really? Look at dam right now." Vines frowns back at the three's sudden looks. "Notice how she's staying several hooves away even now and keeps glancing at me?"

Opening the front door, Title looks over her withers at Cure. "Well you smell like a duck… and something else. What is that?"

"Cat and dog. I had to put off a predator smell to get the stupid ducks to back off. That's not my point though. I don't smell like me right now, and you're eyeing me like I'm some kind of imposter. The hens probably thought I was one of their babies with a weird pony smell they needed to clean off."

"I'm not eyeing you funny," Vines defensively replies with a pout.

"Don't be upset.” Cure waves away the issue explaining, “You have two sets of senses telling you different things. Your brain was saying “something is wrong” and you didn’t know why."

“Well I know exactly how to fix that,” she says with a predatory smile.

Knowing full well what was coming next, Cure wisely accepts his fate. With a small sigh he sits on his haunches in the entryway and lifts his forelegs in surrender.

“HA! They have you totally whipped, colt!”

Shrugging, Cure smiles as his dam picks him up and puts him on her withers. “You only get to be a child for so long, dad. Look me in my eyes and tell me you don’t like being doted on.”

With a sigh, Deed looks at his son as Vines happily trots towards the stairs. He nods in agreement saying, “Yeah, I suppose you’re right. Enjoy it while ya can.”

A few hours later the entire family is starting to stir from their nap.

Deed wakes up first, stretching all four legs as far they can reach forwards and back. The movement causes both of his wives to stir, one on each side. Still laying across his back and withers is his son. Between his magic use and his shorter legs, Deed figures Cure used a lot more energy than any of them earlier in the afternoon.

He can't help but note that the colt is way more solid than he had been just a few days ago. Stars, compared to just yesterday when he'd held him at the incident there was a pretty significant change; enough that he told himself he'd say something if it gets any more noticeable.

Gently laid on the cushions the parents have vacated, Cure is a bit slower to rouse, and once he does he spends longer getting ready than Deed ever remembers him taking. “Gettin all dandied up for a special filly tonight, son? You seem to have that mane in finer order than I recall you ever wearing it before.”

“Not really, I just know I’m starting to get into that age where kids label each other. I would prefer not being the “unkempt one” for the next few years.”

Finishing with one last stroke of the brush he starts towards the stairs, Deed in tow. “It may be a bit late to avoid a bad label, though. Before the duck flash mob hit us, Heavy told me that he ran into Ferric Shine last night. Apparently she was there in the park and heard Drift’s dam talking to all the pegasus fillies after we left.”

Continuing as they walked into the living room, he explains, “I don’t think they’ll be going to social events for the foreseeable future. They’re all grounded, maybe literally, for quite a while. All their parents had been expecting them home a bit earlier, that’s why they were out looking for them when they found us. It just was bad luck that Wind’s and Drift’s parents found us first.”

“Ah, well that’s too bad. Hopefully those fillies won’t blame you for that mess. Chin up, son, there’s plenty of ladies that’d be thrilled to snag ya either way, and you got plenty of time anyhow.”

Seeing her two stallions approaching from her cushion, Vines perks up. “Oh you heard something about those fillies?”

“Just that they’re grounded for a while,” Cure says. “Dad had asked about them being there tonight,” motioning with his head towards his sire.

“Good!” Title shouts while walking in from the kitchen. She had volunteered to get dinner ready while everypony else was getting cleaned up. “They should be, the way they chased you down and ganged up on you. That’s no way for a good pony to behave.”

“Yeah, I get that. I’m a little disappointed that Drift and Glacial followed along, but peer pressure makes for bad decisions, so I’m not upset with them. Wind Shear is a nutjob, though. I never did get the name of that gray filly that tried to jump me when I had Wind pinned.”

“Well I wouldn’t worry about all that, son. Once I send this letter to your great grandpa I’m sure he’ll line up some protection for ya in no time.”

“A letter? The same grandsire of yours that was in the military?” Cure asks as everypony sits at the table and starts digging in.

“Yep. He’s kind of the head of the family. He also runs a few businesses over in Baltimare. We figured he probably has a lot more options available to him to help ya out than we ever could,” Deed explains, passing the food around.

“Oh yeah? What kind of businesses does he run?”

With excitement in his eyes, Deed lists off his grandfather’s business dealings. “He has a few delivery companies, plus a few that have contracts with the city for keeping the streets clean and removing the trash. He’s also a part owner of some of the brewing and distilling outfits in town, so he’ll be thrilled if you were right about your alcohol ideas. They’re always on the lookout to hire smart ponies like chemists and what-have-you.”

His enthusiasm thoroughly sapped, Cure pauses mid-bite. He can only stare at his sire in disbelief, “... you’re freaking kidding me right now, aren’t you?”

Vines, baffled at her son’s confusion, answers before Deed can. “No, sweetie. He’s still a very busy pony and is very successful, despite his age.”

“Yeah, the one time I met him he said he’ll quit working when his heart does. He’s a tough old warpony, but everypony says he really watches out for family,” Title adds.

“You’re all serious right now, aren’t you? Does he make ponies call him “The Don” too?”

"Dawn? Like... that unicorn friend of yours? The Sunrise filly?" Completely confused, Deed looks to his wives for a clue. Getting equally confused looks and shrugs back he looks at Cure for an explanation.

“Umm, dad, I don’t know how to ask you this tactfully, but is your family the mob?”

Not quite understanding what his son is asking, he slowly answers, “Well, there’s a lot of them, so maybe they get a little excited at reunions and whatnot. It depends on how much of the good stuff grandpa brings.”

“No, that word must not have the same context here. I mean like, the mafia…” seeing the still confused looks he breaks it down, “Organized crime, dad. Does your grandpa have a group of ponies that work for him to control territory, offer ponies protection, and sell booze under the table?”

Slightly offended by the accusation, Deed tersely replies, “No, son, why would they try to hide selling booze? They’re one hundred percent legitimate business ponies. I did forget about the security company he runs, though. They really only work around the distilleries and breweries to keep them safe overnight and keep trespassers out, though.”

“Okay, well… very quickly, in human history the mob, or the mafia, or organized crime, however you want to call them… they were business people that, when the government temporarily outlawed alcohol stepped in to supply it to the people illegally. It made them very rich and families would fight for territory and stuff.”

“Oh, sweetie, nothing like that ever happened here. Your father’s right. His grandpa is a former guard, after all. He’d never do anything illegal.”

“As I understand it, dam, former guards typically know best how to get away with illegal things.” Seeing the arguments forming from his parents he holds up his hooves in surrender. “You’re probably right, I may just be paranoid. The businesses you listed off are basically exactly what the mafia used as legitimate fronts for their illegitimate businesses.”

“Well, probably because they go hoof-in-hoof, Cure.” Adopting a lecture pose that makes Cure suppress a smile, Title explains, “He probably started off with the distillery. Well you might as well deliver stuff other than booze, so he had his distribution ponies take other jobs from nearby businesses too.”

Deed waves a hoof at her with an “Exactly!” in agreement.

She continues, “From there they probably needed ponies to keep the distilleries secure, so his own security firm just made sense. They’re probably just separate businesses for liability and financial reasons. I’m not sure how the city contracts could have come about. Deed, babe, do you have any idea about those?”

“The way he told it was one of the council ponies was in his squad back in the day. They were having problems with collection schedules and city sanitation, so since my grandpa was so good at keeping ponies organized he said something to him when they went out drinking one night.” With a proud smile he adds, “A few months later he’s running a new business and there’s no more trash problems.”

“Huh. Well, my apologies for slighting your grandfather’s honor, dad. It’s just… such a huge coincidence, though.” Sitting there in thought for a moment, Cure finally shakes himself out of it. “Well, I realize you’re the parents and all, but please at least talk to me before sending off life-altering letters or making big decisions. Is it fair to ask for that?”

“Of course, sweetie. We’ll be sure to discuss things like this with you from now on.”

“Okay, well, if you’re all in agreement that this is the way to go I’m fine with it too. As long as I don’t have to worry about somepony in a trenchcoat with a tommy gun I’m in.”

“How in the world do you know about Tommy Guns?” Deed asks.

“What?”

“The famous boxer?” Deed asks, completely serious. Cure simply nods back, still baffled. “He was a legend when my sire was a colt. Big blue feller that dyed his mane with red and white stripes?” Cure dumbfoundly nods again, so Deed continues, “Shame he died about five years back. I’m shocked colts your age even know the name. Then again he did only lose that one time. He always joked about his cutie mark; said his special talent was makin his opponent see stars.”

Okay, that’s where I draw the line. I don’t even care if there’s an Italian Stallion out there.

With a deadpan expression Cure insists, “It must be another weird Earth-Equus coincidence thing, dad. "

“Huh. Well I’m sorry we didn’t include you, we just discussed it at the pond while you were busy shacking up with all those lovely duck ladies. Yer dam wants lots of grandfoals, son, not grandfowls.”

"Deed!" Vines snaps at the stallion.

“Ugh… gross dad. I’ve come to terms with the fact that I’m going to have far, far more interaction with reproductive stuff in this life, but I was not prepared for what I saw when I scanned those ducks.”

Vines is happy to leave the subject alone, but Title’s curiosity eventually wins out. “Do ducks have something wrong with them, Cure?”

Deed starts laughing quietly. Cure suspects he may know from the farm work he did when he was younger.

“I don’t think dam wants to hear it. I’ll spare you the details, but male ducks are… well let’s just say different than any other male I can think of… and female ducks match them, of course.”

With a big grin, Deed pushes the topic. “Well now you got me curious, son. What’s so different? We’re all adults here… sorta.”

Looking to his dam for permission, she rolls her eyes, then relents with a nod and a sigh.

“Fine. They’re like spring-loaded corkscrews. And they’re enormous relative to the size of the duck. Oh, and there’s structures that look like barbs on them. They’re hollow, so guess what that means when they’re excited. No fun times for the hens, I’m thinking.”

“Well… that’s horrifying,” Title says, to the agreement of everypony else.

“Yep. The good news is that their eyes are pretty good. Not pegasus good, but there’s another light receptor in there that is either ultraviolet or infrared sensitive. I think it’s UV because I’m not really seeing anything different like I would if I was seeing heat.” After a moment’s thought Cure facehooves and mumbles a bit.

“I didn’t even realize it. The cat and the dog I scanned this morning both have UV receptors too. Duh! No wonder cats can see so well at night. I figured they just had more rods than cones in their eyes. Oh well.”

“Huh. I’m gonna need you to explain the whole infrared and ultraviolet light thing at some point.”

“Sure thing, mom. Maybe while we’re walking to the rodeo I can give you the short version.”

“That sounds neat, Cure.”

“Oh I also got a frog and a couple fish, so I could, in theory, give somepony gills, or just change lungs to get air from water. I don’t think there’s enough oxygen in water to actually just breathe it though. It would definitely take other changes to survive underwater for long. I haven’t really looked at the frog yet… there’s probably a lot there but frogs are weird from what I remember.”

“The big get was the catfish that swam near me. I was able to get a scan of its venom sacks. It seems to attack nerves and blood cells. The former is probably what causes pain.”

“Please don’t test that on yourself, sweetie.”

“Oh I did that already. I just turned off the nerves in the area first.” Holding up a hoof to show his frog he explained, “I just basically gave myself a tiny, tiny sting in my frog and watched what it did. I healed it up within a minute. I’m the perfect candidate for those kinds of tests, dam.”

“So… basically, you can’t be poisoned?” Deed asks. “Not that I can imagine you ever would be, but still, I’m curious.”

“I could be if I was asleep, probably. I don’t know if I could make myself wake up to isolate and counter the poison.” Thinking for a moment, Cure adds, “I bet I could come up with a gland, so if I come across a poison once it would automatically administer a counteragent if I’m stung. I wouldn’t say I’m completely immune to all poisons, but I’m awfully darn close to it.”

“Well if I ever get stung by a bee I’ll come to you first.”

“Oh yeah, definitely mom. I can just have your system make an antivenom. If I ever do make that gland I mentioned I could give you all a copy of it too, that way if you get stung or bit by a spider you’ll already be immune.”

For several minutes the conversation lulls while everypony finishes eating. Deciding that he’d trusted his family with everything thus far, Cure shares the one aspect of his ability he’d kept quiet about.

“Hey before we go tonight I wanted to make you all aware of something and make a sort-of suggestion, request, or proposal... however you wanna classify it.”

“Well that’s not ominous at all. Is there something we should be concerned about, son?”

“No, it’s nothing bad, just a tiny detail I hadn’t shared before. You know how I have always put a hoof on somepony before scanning them or boosting you or whatever?” At their nods he explains, “Well the thing is, I don’t actually need to make contact. It’s not like a unicorn where I can be far away, but within about a meter and a half I might as well be touching somepony.”

Vines is the first to figure it out. “Oh, I get it! You said your culture put a bigger emphasis on privacy and informed consent. You’ve been pretending to need touch so it’s clear when you are or aren’t doing anything, haven’t you honey?”

“Ah, that’s why you always ask permission first. That’s a human thing?” Title asks.

“He had talked about it when he first said he may be able to slow aging. Apparently humans are very paranoid about their health,” Vines explains, Cure nodding in agreement.

“I don’t think that’s a big deal, son. As long as you’re helping ponies, nopony will be upset.”

“Yeah, dam said the same thing. I’m not about to go around and start just healing anypony I come across without saying anything, but that’s not the only reason why I brought this up now.”

“You want to scan ponies at the rodeo, don’t you? It’ll be a much larger crowd than you’ve been around since you got your cutie mark.” Title observes.

“That’s it exactly. It mainly comes down to a privacy thing, if it makes sense. The logic is a little backwards, though. Basically I couldn’t make a good guess whether or not dam is going into estrus because I only have one other adult female scan to compare it to… well, two, but with mom being pregnant her scan doesn’t help. See... there’s different kinds of data. The kind I’m interested in is called aggregate data.”

“Like adding up a bunch of values?” Deed asks. At Cure’s surprised look he snorts and says, “Don’t look so surprised, son. Your ‘ol pa got both the brains and the brawn, donchya know.” Standing and waving a hoof at himself he adds, “I didn’t get by in real estate just with my awe-inspirin visage, after all.”

“Sorry dad, I just didn’t realize ponies do much data analysis. I figured that’s more mom’s speed, honestly. You’re right though, data becomes more anonymous once you have enough of it. Comparing dam’s health to Amethyst and giving an analysis based on it would be a violation of Amethyst's trust without her permission.”

“... but if you had dozens or hundreds of random, unknown ponies to compare it to, you could give a better analysis and not compromise any one pony’s identity,” Title finishes.

“Exactly. So aggregate data is the mass of data without a specific pony’s data separated out. Humans would call the other kind “personally identifiable information” and go to great lengths to safeguard it since it was typically shared with the understanding it would be private.”

“I think Equinely Identifiable Information works, son, but that'll only apply to ponies I guess. Maybe Individually instead? Triple-I? Double-I Info?”

“I dunno, dad. I think the latter is a little more clear since it gives context to the whole thing. Anyhow, I’d like to scan as many ponies as I can tonight with the understanding that I would never do anything to compromise a specific pony’s information.”

“Sweetie, this sounds like one of those things that could get you in trouble.”

Nodding in agreement, Cure says, “I’m inclined to agree, sort of. You’ve all separately said that ponies are not as concerned about medical info as humans are. That leads me to believe that nopony, or few ponies, would object to the scan. At the same time, I would definitely want somepony to ask me permission before scanning me like that. That’s why I brought this up now. I’d told you I would keep you informed when I wanted to do stuff. Well…” he finished, waving a hoof at the three parents.

“Your dam makes a good point, son. I agree, I don’t think anypony would be mad, especially since this is your special talent, but now you’ve got me thinking it may be best to hold off. Maybe next time there’s some big event we can come up with a way for you to scan ponies where they aren’t left unawares.”

“That’s a good idea, honey. Cure, what if we set up some kind of “medical scanning archway” or something. Ponies walk through and you give them the results. We would need to sort out some details, but it would be a great way for you to get your scans legitimately.”

“That sounds like a good idea, but I’m worried some inquisitive pony may want to find out more about the clearly magical archway. I could see that drawing a lot of attention. Also, I’ve brought up the changeling thing a couple times. I would like to see if my scan can identify them, and they would never walk through a scanning archway.”

“Why would a changeling go to an event like this anyhow?” Vines asks.

“Remember I said they feed off ambient emotions too?”

“Ah, so a gathering of happy ponies would feed them?” she asks, getting a nod in answer.

“I feel like this is another thing we need to talk to your grandpa about, son. He’s got much more experience in the world, maybe he could come up with an idea that we just don’t have the know-how to think about.”

"That's fair, I'll keep my magic to myself tonight. Who knows, maybe a unicorn could detect my scan anyhow. Or the guard may have a device to detect casting-like effects. I could see that encounter going poorly."

"Yeah, let's avoid two guard incidents in a row, please," Title requests.

The family finishes dinner and cleans up the table and kitchen. A round of potty breaks and last minute prep later they are all gathered in the living room.

"So how are you all feeling after the running and everything? Does everypony feel good? No fatigue or tiredness, right?"

"I feel wonderful, honey. I wouldn't mind doing that again."
"Doing good, Cure. I wish I could've done that trick about seven years ago."
"All set, sport. The shoulder never bothered me once."

"Awesome. Are you all ready to go then?” At their nods Cure walks towards the door, “Well let’s make like a baby and head out.” Ignoring the snorts from his mom and sire and the scolding “Cure!” from his dam, he bolts out the door.

The trot to the rodeo took about half an hour, a good ten minutes of which was simply them stopping by the post office to send the letter to Deed’s grandsire.

The rodeo looks to be a lot like a rural county fair. There are bleachers set up around the main arena, but Cure notes the lack of a fenced-in area. Since he's never been to a rodeo searching his memories doesn't help at all.

Still a little ways from the actual event, Cure considered what a rodeo may actually be like.

Wait… aren't bulls intelligent creatures? I know female cows are, the males have to be too. If they're intelligent and we're the freaking horses then what the hell is a pony rodeo even like?

"Hey dad?"

"Yeah, sport?"

"I just realized I have never been to a rodeo… here. What kinda things do they have?"

"Ah, different rules huh?" he asks, getting a nod. "I assume they'll have some competitive roping, maybe some goofy races, then some odds and ends strongpony kinda events like weight pulling, lifting, and hauling."

"Huh. Neat. Roping what, though?"

"It's a rope duel, Cure," Title explains, "two competitors go in with ropes and start at each other when the bell rings. The first pony to get a lasso around the other's neck wins. They can push and shoulder each other but no striking, ramming, or headbutts."

"That actually sounds pretty awesome."

"Eh, it can drag on if both are really good… or bad, I suppose."

"Do I stay with you all or am I allowed to go check out the stalls and stuff?"

"Your mother and I bought seats over in section four," Deed says while pointing at one of the bleachers, "so as long as you can avoid getting arrested you can go find some of your friends and come join us when you wanna. Got plenty of bits?"

"Yep. Thanks dad, dam, mom. I'll poke around a bit and come to you later."

Giving each a quick nuzzle, Cure takes off towards the crowd.

"Honey, are you sure we shouldn't keep an eye on him?"

"Ha! Why? I don't think you've noticed like Title and I have, probably because you're around him all day, but that colt has really put some muscle on over this last week… really, just in the last day he's put a lot on. He's not bulky but I could tell when he was laying on my back earlier. The colt's pure granite with a soft fuzzy coating."

"Don't worry, babe," Title says, "there's lots of ponies around and he can be very loud. Besides, what are the odds something like last night happens again?"

Begrudgingly agreeing, Vines follows her mates to the stadium.

The entirety of the event, he estimates, is around the size of a couple human city blocks. The "stadium" area is closest to Golden Hills' downtown area to the west with numerous stalls, food vendors, arts, crafts, games, and other attractions lining paths towards the east.

The rodeo is apparently a traveling carnival that will be shutting down for the next month after this weekend. Much like his dam had described, mares don't go stallion-crazy or anything, but the estrus seasons are viewed almost like government approved bonding time for married ponies.

The rodeo, while fully capable of staying open throughout the weeks, doesn't get enough business for the performers to justify not going back to their family for the duration. Though there is no government mandate at this time, there's still significant social pressure strongly encouraging businesses to make it easy for families to be together.

Several of the performing stallions also take the opportunity to "advertise" their availability and pedigree at events like this as well, and the successful ones have good odds of securing a profitable contract for the season. They are, after all, in great physical shape and everypony loves a winner.

Cure trots through the crowd looking for other foals his age. In a sea of taller ponies, improved eyes or no, it's much more difficult than he’d expected. Fortunately, even in the crowd Dawn Glow and Rising Pitch are both easily spotted. They’re with Delta Coast again, as well as Sapphire Sprint, a mint colored earth pony with a slightly darker green mane.

"Hey everypony! You all find anything fun here yet?" he asks, approaching the group.

After a round of greetings it's Delta Coast that speaks up first. "We're going to see what games they have, Cure. Have you been here long?"

"Mind if I tag along? I just got here, so I haven't checked them out yet."

"Sure thing Cure," Rising says as she starts walking, "on the way you can fill us in on the craziness from last night," she adds with a smirk. "Everypony heard about it!"

With an exaggerated groan Cure tells his tale, "So I was headed into town to get some treats for myself and my parents. I had time to kill and after you all got me thinking of ice cream I decided I had to get some too."

"Ah, did you get your sundae?" Coast asks. "I did after we left and it was delicious!"

"No, not exactly," he explains as the small herd makes its way through the crowd. "I ran into Drift and Glacial at the parlor. They were there with some other pegasi, so I went over to say hi just like I did tonight."

Sapphire jumps in to ask, "Was Wind Shear there? I heard you fought her and almost broke her wing!"

"That's not even close to what happened!" Cure immediately denies. "She was there, so were three others I never got the name of. Well they were teasing Drift because," adopting a waspish tone he mockingly says, "some colt came over to say hiiii," he drawls out. Continuing in his normal voice, "Wind made a joke about me liking Drifts chest, probably over the whole bruise thing."

"Bruise thing?" Sapphire interrupts.

Dawn jumps in to explain, "Drift had made fun of Cure's mark at the park, said he can't tell when ponies are sick or hurt. He proved it by pointing out a bruise her younger sister gave her under her coat on her chest."

Cure picks up after the muttered "Ahh, okay" from Sapphire. "Yeah, so I didn't like them using my friendly introduction against Drift so I made a joke about them being jealous no colts had come to say hi to them and excused myself. I bought a chocolate shake and started towards home."

"Mmm. A shake sounds good," Coast says, licking her chops.

“You should watch saying those kinda things, Cure. With how few colts there are, some fillies are really afraid of being alone, especially when they’re getting close to being an adult.”

Nodding to Rising, Cure concedes the point, “Ugh, I hadn’t really considered that. Yeah, you’re right… that could be a real sensitive subject. Still, there was no reason for them to act like that just because I came to say hi.”

“Yeah, that’s true. Still, be careful with jokes about that.”

"Right, thanks Rising. Coast, I saw an ice cream stand on the way to meet you all," Cure offers. She nods and says "later" while motioning for him to continue. Picking up where he left off his story, he explains, "Right, so they all landed in front of me on the way home, blocking the path."

"All of them?" Dawn asks.

"Yep. It didn't seem like Drift, Glacial, or two of the others wanted to be there though. They just went with their sisters or friends or whatever. I really hope they didn’t get in trouble because they never did anything.” With a sigh, he continues, “Anyhow, I tried talking the two down but Wind wasn't having it. She kept jabbing her hoof into my chest."

"So you… tried to break her wing?" Sapphire asks.

Coming to a full stop, Cure looks over to her and slowly explains, "I don't know where you heard that but I would never do something like that over a silly argument. That's a horrific injury for a pegasus. She flew home for Celestia’s sake. Would she have been able to do that if I'd done anything to her wing?"

Sapphire wilts a little under the stare and mutters an apology before the group continues to the game stalls.

"Anyhow, I said to stop, she didn't, I grabbed her hoof and yanked her off balance, then knocked her on her side. I had to pin her at her shoulders and her wing so she couldn't move. That's it, no injuries at all. The gray pegasus tried to jump me from behind but I threatened to escalate and she backed off."

Since the story isn't finished, Cure moves off the path to sit near the game stalls to finish his story out of everypony’s way.

"So you did threaten to break her wing?" Sapphire once again asks.

"Stars, Sapphire, what in the hay is wrong with you?" Dawn admonishes her friend. "He was surrounded and alone against a group of older fillies. He did the only thing he could. Are you and Wind best friends or something?"

"No, she's a jerk," Sapphire quickly insists.

"Then stop spreading whatever dumb story you heard that makes him sound like a jerk. Seriously…" Rising piles on. Looking back to Cure with an excited smile she says, "That sounds like a total hardflank move, Cure! Wind's like two or three hooves taller than you though…"

"Yeah, but I'm an earth pony, she's a pegasus," he says with a shrug. "She can fly but I'm way stronger… probably a bit heavier too since I'm a colt and all."

"Ooo he's so strong," Coast teases. With little clap she shouts out, "Flex for us Cure!"

Playing along, Cure jumps to his hooves and turns so he’s facing slightly to the side. He strikes a nose-in-the-air mid-march pose with his left front and right back hooves slightly off the ground. Yelling “You got it babe!” he flexes every visible muscle in his neck, chest, shoulders, back, sides, hips, and legs, all while laughing with the girls.

It takes a few seconds to realize that his chuckle and some distant game noises are the only sounds nearby.

"Sweet Celestia, colt. What the hay are you doing to get ripped like that?"

"Huh?" Looking around he finds all the ponies that had been walking on the path nearby, as well as the four girls, all staring at him. Looking down over himself, still flexing, he says the only thing that comes to mind. "Ah… fudge."

Releasing the flex he goes back to a sitting position and explains to the still gawking crowd, "It's my special talent."

"Being fuckin shredded?" an older teenager asks, getting a whack, presumably from his dam.

"Umm, sorta? I can help ponies be their healthiest. It, uhh… lets me get the most from any exercise I could possibly get."

"Nice," the teenager nods. "You should totally open a gym, little dude. I'd go for sure."

"I'll keep that in mind, bud. For now I'm thinking of being a doctor."

"Cool. Good luck, jacked colt," he says as the passing ponies all resume moving.

Finally picking her jaw up off the ground, Sapphire, obviously the one in the group with no tact at all, walks up to Cure and starts poking his chest and foreleg muscles. "Do it again!" She commands him.

Standing to flex just the areas she's poking, Cure can't help but love the attention. Still, when the other girls join in he starts to wonder if he's going to need the guard for a different reason.

"Alright ladies, you keep feeling me up and I'm going to start charging for the show."

That apparently snaps them all out of their haze, as they sheepishly give him a little room before sitting in a semicircle around him.

"Sweet Celestia, Cure…" Rising mumbles. "No wonder you flattened her. What the hay have you been doing for the last few weeks?"

"You were never this muscular, Cure. I know this is just since you got your cutie mark," Dawn nods, agreeing with Rising's sentiment.

"Not all of it, but I was telling the truth to that older colt. My talent lets me get the absolute max out of any exercise. My family and I ran like seven or eight kilometers by the pond near my house today. It only took us like twenty five minutes, and that's with breaks."

"That's insane. How are you still on your hooves?" Coast asks.

"Umm… easily? I could keep going… like… for hours." Drifting off Cure gets a feel for his fat stores and mumbles, “six… eight maybe?” Rubbing his chin in thought he finishes his calculations and nods, “Yeah, that’s probably right. I’d be starving by then though.”

Sharing looks with each other, the girls reach some kind of unspoken agreement.

"Do us too!" they shout together.

A bit bewildered by their sudden interest, Cure can only nod. "Uhh… I guess. We can meet at the park and go on runs and stuff. With the way my talent works you'll all be in really good shape in no time. There's a few details, but we'll go over that before we start."

"Okay!" they chorus.

Raising an eyebrow at the four, Cure asks, "Are you doing that on purpose somehow? Like… did you rehearse just in case this exact scenario came up?"

Waving it away, Dawn explains, "It's a filly thing. Don't worry about it."

"Riiight. So, we playing any games or are ya just going to poke at me all night?"

"Let's go win some stuff!" Coast cheers to the collective "YAY!" of the group. "We can poke Cure later!" she added, getting another "WOO!" from three quarters of the others.

Despite the improvements he had already made, Cure wasn't much better at the games. He managed to not embarrass himself, but Rising Pitch was definitely the reigning champ of the group. At least he was able to get the weight on the "high striker" game most of the way up despite the fact it was geared for adults.

Ponies have a modified version that transfers a buck's inertia upwards somehow. He tried to get a look at the mechanism, but circumstances prevented him from investigating it. Thankfully the buck target could be raised or lowered, so he didn’t have to stand on a crate just to take a swing.

The operator was kind enough to give him a few small WonderBolt plushies as a consolation prize. Since he passed over four and they were accompanied with a wink he must have misunderstood Cure's situation somewhat.

Or maybe, Cure realized, he's the smart one and I'm actually an oblivious isekai protagonist. I am surrounded by girls and have zero sex drive, so I'm checking almost every box on the list. How would I inadvertently trip and land first face in boobs here though? To his relief, a quick look around for bipedal females showed none in sight.

After a couple hours of playing games, chatting with the girls, and eating entirely too much sugar, Cure wishes them a good evening, distributes the plushies, and goes to meet with his parents.

Despite reassuring his wives, Deed was a little worried about his son not having anypony watching over him. He'd still enjoyed the rodeo competitions, as did both of them, but he kept a wary eye out for the colt the whole time. Fortunately he'd found a spot towards the top of the bleachers where he could see most of the fairgrounds, so he'd been able to check on Cure every so often.

Thank Celestia for that orange unicorn and the bright yellow filly he's hanging out with. I don't think I could find him in the sea of ponies without the twin suns acting as beacons.

Watching the colt separate from the fillies and start towards the bleachers, Deed returns to his seat to the amusement of his wives.

"I thought we don't need to keep an eye on him, honey," Vines reminds him with a smile. "How's he doing?"

"Great! Those fillies were bumpin shoulders with him almost every step. He's on his way back now, and they stared at his rear from the moment they separated until he rounded a corner. Poor colt'll have a dozen lil fillies chasin 'em before he even grows up. I think that mint one even scented his mane when he looked away."

"Aww, hear that Vines? He's gonna give us so many grandfoals we'll hafta make 'em wear name tags or something." Looking over to the entrance, Title spots Cure as he enters the stadium and makes his way to them.

"Hey everypony, how's it going so far? Why is dam doing the happy wiggles? Is it because dad saw me hanging out with the fillies?"

"Sure is, sport. Not much gets past them peepers, huh?"

"Nope, but thanks for checking on me anyway."

"Sure thing, son. Now how's about ya hop up on yer pa's withers so you can see the show?"

Set atop his sire, Cure actually does enjoy watching the dueling rope bouts. He'd missed much of the competition, but was in time for the semifinals.

The first round ends in only moments when the two ponies shot out of the gates at each other. With an impressive slide to the left the smaller of the two, a slate grey pony, ducked under his opponent's rope and flicked his rear, tail, and lasso out in one smooth snap, giving the larger pony no time to dodge.

To the enthusiastic cheers of the crowd the winner does a shuffle and a spin, reminding Cure of a football player dancing after a touchdown. Giving his opponent a hoofbump and a quick nod he exits the ring, prancing for the swooning mares near the front of the bleachers.

The next round ended up being a stalemate for several minutes, with both ponies slipping or dodging lassos with practice ease. The round had to be forfeited when the brown pony got his legs wrapped up after failing to completely jump over a low thrown shot. He'd apparently landed wrong, twisting an ankle and ended up bowing out rather than risk aggravating the injury.

"And that's why ya keep yer hooves on the ground, son. If he'd just let that bounce offa his chest he woulda had a perfect shot before the green one coulda got his rope back."

"Heat of the moment, pa. It's always easier to make calls from the stands, especially after the fact."

"That's right, sweetie. Now the winner of the previous round has a huge advantage though. That green pony looks pretty worn out from the longer round."

"I dunno, babe," Title says, "greenie's got some moves. Give him the five minute break and he should have recovered enough."

"Are ya kiddin me honey?" Deed asks, waving a hoof towards the grey finalist. "That grey stallion has roped damn near everypony in under a minute. Ain't no way he's gonna lose."

"Wanna bet?" Title asks.

"Loser gives the winner a massage?"

"Pfft, you just wanna get yer hooves all over me."

"Chicken."

Jabbing a hoof at Deed's face, Title yells "You're on!" and the bet is sealed.

Cure leans a bit closer to his dam and says, "If ya want, I can give you a back, neck, and hoof massage. I can't have my dam being neglected after all."

"Oh you don't have to, sweetie. Thanks for offering though."

"You're turning down a Cure massage? Are ya nuts?" Title asks, shoulder bumping Vines.

"Let the colt spoil his dam a bit, babe. You know he doesn't mind."

"Oh… are you sure?"

"You bet, dam. You'll be so relaxed by the time I'm done with ya you won't be able to move. It’s the least I can do after stressin ya out all week."

"Oh… well, that does sound nice."

"Oh! They're starting!" Title shouts, waving at the contestants.

"Ya see, son, what year mom isn't aware of is that the gray stallion there is six time national rodeo champion, Thunder Whip. I'll give greenie credit for gettin to the final, but he's got a saltlick's chance in a flood at winnin this one."

"What?! That's not fair!"

"I think I said something about not knowing things being dangerous…" Cure offers, getting an unamused glare from the pink mare.

Just as Deed predicted, Whip shot out of the gate, juked left drawing greenie's shot, spun like a top in a quick 360, and, like a bolt launched out of a crossbow, nailed his opponent with his lasso before he could even blink.

"Wow, mom. Your dude got smoked. To be fair though, that was pretty impressive."

"Thanks, Cure. I didn't notice," she grumbles out.

Celebrating again, Thunder did a little shuffle dance, this time rearing up and launching himself into a full-on backflip, something Cure didn't even know ponies could do. "Jeez…" he mumbled out.

"Yeah, that'll land 'em a couple fat contracts, I bet. You can damn near see the heat waves coming off the bleachers where that group of ladies are all bunched up," Deed laughs out.

"Dad, c’mon dude…"

"Oh please, son. After that chat yesterday I know you're no blushin maiden. Besides, I saw those fillies all over ya walking around."

"Yeah we'll need to talk about that when we get home. I kinda underestimated how much I've been bulking up."

"Oh my," Title starts with a teasing smile, "did you accidently make them all swoon while striking a pose?" Looking away embarrassed, Cure lowly mumbles a "kinda" to Title's amusement. "Every bit as absent-minded as your sire, I swear."

"Damn, son. No wonder they were all but markin ya. What'd ya do?" Moving back enough his sire could see, Cure once again struck a pose and flexed, drawing the eyes of his parents, most of the surrounding ponies, and, much to his dismay, the announcer that noticed a bunch of heads in the crowd swivel at once.

Pointing to Cure and Deed he shouts for all to hear, "Wooo howdy, young colt! That's one duuuurn impressive setta muscles ya got yerself thah. I sure do hope we see ya competin' in a few years, son. Show 'em what ya got, colt! Give the audience a big flex!"

Standing tall, Deed turns so everypony can see Cure from the other bleachers. Yelling "let 'er rip, son" he nods towards the crowd.

Cure, taking that as carte blanche, sets his magic to full blast, standing tall on his sire's back, and flexes every visible muscle on his body. The effect is just a hairsbreadth short of unsettling as every muscle's outline is easily visible in the evening sun's light, and the bulging muscles pop enough to cast a shadow on the next set down his body.

"Damn, son..." Deed mutters under his breath.

"DAMN, SON!" the announcer yells at the top of his lungs. "You come see me in about five years, colt. Iff'n her majesty's service don't snatch ya up first, that is."

"Yessir!" Cure shouts back.

Lowering whatever device is amplifying his voice, the announcer shouts to a stagepony, "Silver, grab the colt some merch and a card!"

With a nod the mare runs off to fill the order.

"Well, folks I dunno bout y'all but Imma ready ta see some metal movin! Let's get our strongpony competitors lined up!"

With the focus back on the rodeo Cure and Deed both relaxed. The stagepony mare, Silver apparently, brought up a nice set of Tejas Pete's Rodeo Show branded saddlebags that are just a bit bigger for Cure to grow into, along with some posters, a few trinkets, and a couple business cards for Deed and Cure.

"Cure, sweetie?"

"Yeah, dam?"

"I think you may be overdoing the strength training, honey."

Ignoring the "no shit" Title mutters, Cure wholeheartedly agrees, "Yeah, I think I just kept "exercising" and let it get away from me a bit. Intent matters, yanno… well I was thinkin I didn't wanna be weak when I went to bed last night…"

"Set the furnace on high and smelted too much steel overnight?" Title asks.

"An apt analogy."

"Can you tone it down some, please?"

"You got it, dam."

The strongpony competition didn't hold Cure's attention very well, but without the distraction he did notice a particularly big pony setting up the obstacle course. Looking with his enhanced vision, it seemed to Cure that this behemoth just had to be something other than a pony.

"Dad, is that stallion over there an earth pony? I've never seen anypony that big."

"Yep, he's a real biggun, ain't he? I know some earth ponies can be big like that, but I've only ever seen a few in my time. The princess herself is barely eye level with him, I'm betting."

"Jeez. That's gotta suck to be that big... unless you got access to the royal coffers, at least. Having to pay extra for any home or furniture to be custom built, not to mention finding a mate."

"Yeah, there's definitely a point where being bigger is a curse. That right there, in my opinion, is well beyond that point."

The obstacle course ends up boring Cure immensely. He isn’t sure exactly why they don’t just call it a race, as there’s barely anything he would define as an obstacle on the course. There are some hurdles, a mud pit, and some other minor inconveniences on the loop around the stadium floor, but that’s it.

Damn twenty first century entertainment has completely spoiled me. Between that and the colt brain I don't think live shows are going to do much for me. Little interest and barely more attention span… not a good combination.

It was around the tenth pony's run that Cure noticed he had something trying to pierce his skin on his back. A very small, unwelcome something. Scanning the tiny invader, Cure conjured up a tiny pocket of catfish and bee venoms directly in the path of the proboscis and let out a dark chuckle at the poor mosquito's short, horrific plight when it took a sip.

That’s a spicy meatball, ain’t it ya sonuvabitch? I swear even if the rest of my life sucked I’d be pretty happy walking around poisoning those shits every day. Talk about acceptable targets. I can't even force myself to feel bad for any level of cruelty to these parasites.

Analyzing the scan gave Cure two things that excited him to no end; infrared sensors and a highly specialized CO2 detector. Though unsure when he'd ever need to hunt something down, Cure was confident that any breathing organism would find it nigh impossible to escape him at this point unless it could fly or teleport miles at a time.

"Uhh, son? Kinda creepin out the mares here. Do ya mind easin up on the sinister laughin a tad?"

Looking over, Cure sees both Title and Vines eyeing him a bit warily and leaning away slightly. With a reassuring smile he explains, "A mosquito tried to get me. It didn’t go well for the little blood sucker though. I’ll try to keep evil cackling to a minimum."

"Thanks, son."

“Geez, it’s like y’all are just waiting for me to go full iron-hoofed overlord or somethin…”

“Mmm not as such, Cure. We’ve just seen you get lost in thought enough times that, even if it’s good, it’s still a little worrying… and quit that pouting, I know you’re faking it,” Title says, pointing a hoof at his face.

Taking the mature route, Cure instead blows a raspberry at her.

“Well somepony’s clearly in a good mood…” Title observes.

Waving a hoof at her to get her to lean close he whispers in her ear. Deed, feeling the movement, tilts an ear down as well, “I scanned that mosquito. Guess how they find their prey.”

“Well, given how excited you are… heat?” she ventures.

“Good deductive reasoning, mom,” he says with a nod. “Yep, heat and a really interesting sense of smell. It may even exceed a dog for sensitivity, but it’s specialized for following carbon dioxide trails.”

“Ah, so that’s how the lil bastards find ponies. No wonder you’re excited, though. That was the last big “sense” thing you wanted right?”

“Other than hearing it was. There’s others I’m curious about, but nothing else I had on my “must have” list. We’ll talk more when we get home, though, okay?”

“Sure thing.” Leaning over, Title passes the update on to Vines who was curious what the whispering was about.

“Sounds to me like you’re not gonna be watchin much of the rodeo from here on out,” Deed says.

“Eh… I’m getting better at multitasking with this. It barely distracts me anymore.”

Turning back, Deed and Cure keep watching the show, all the while Cure is fiddling with the heat sensors. They are not, as he anticipated, a “viewing mode” exactly, but a different form of “feeling” instead. The range is limited not just by the size of the sensors, but also environmental conditions such as wind.

With a visual locked in his head, Cure urges his magic to create patches of the sensors just a layer below his skin on his forehead, chin, and cheeks without altering his appearance. Wiring them into existing touch sensors turned the system on and, within several meters, he could close his eyes and tell exactly where everypony was that he was facing.

Rather than waving his head around with his eyes closed like some kind of loon, he simply returns to watching the show that seems to be getting to the last event of the evening.

Okay, so I got a little distracted. Sue me. The heat sensors were a helluva lot more interesting than ponies running in a circle for five minutes at a time. Honestly I’d rather be in bed with a snuggle buddy than at this boring-ass show. I’m at that age where sleepovers happen a lot, I guess I’ll just wait and see if I get invited to ones at girls’ places.

Actually, who am I kidding? With so few colts in my age group parents are probably damn near throwing their fillies at any colt that shows a passing interest. God this gender imbalance thing is fucked up. How’d they survive long enough to develop civilization? One bad battle coulda caused a town to fail.

The final event? A hay bale distance toss. Cure could barely contain his excitement.

The trot home was busy for the first few miles, with everypony heading home at about the same time. Cure was able to spot several of his friends, including some he hadn’t seen earlier, as they went home, but everypony was clearly tired and the sun was going to set soon.

Cure took it as an opportunity to get used to navigating with heat rather than vision, at least up close. The resolution wasn’t fantastic at a distance, but he could very easily identify and differentiate ponies and their individual parts once they were a few meters away. The environment itself was hit and miss, with some objects blending into the background enough that navigating by heat alone wouldn’t be possible.

Mosquitos can cheat with their flying, I guess. It’s not like you can trip over things in the air.

It occurred to Cure that since this upgrade hooked right into existing nerves there was no reason he had to limit it to only his face. Experimenting with adding additional sensors on areas like his back, belly, sides, and rear, he could get a full sphere view. He quickly toned down the size of the sensors, though, as “sensory overload” was a real problem.

Okay, so I’m guessing I’ll be able to expand this over time. It’s probably just like a deaf patient getting a cochlear implant and being able to hear the first time. Gotta let this become my normal, get used to it in everyday situations, then see about pushing the envelope a little at a time.

Eliminating most of the sensor's surface area, he leaves small patches in each location instead, giving him a slight feel for when somepony or something is nearby, but not the higher resolution “image” he was getting before.

Entering the house, Cure makes a beeline for the bathroom, takes care of his urgent needs, then cleans up a bit and brushes his teeth in case he falls asleep in the living room again. The adults are no better, immediately taking off do the same thing. Within about ten minutes everypony is refreshed and, once again, gathered in the living room.

“Alright, before I knock dam out with the most amazing massage anypony has ever seen, I have a couple updates I wanna share with everypony. But first off, thanks for taking me to the rodeo.” After giving each parent a quick nuzzle-hug, he returns to his cushion. “I had a lot of fun, though I’m not sure that modern-day entertainment venues are really up to par compared to what I remember.”

“A lil spoiled with yer fancy bookshelves and plays and whatnot, are ya son?”

“I admit, I am. Still, tonight was pretty great and the rope duels were cool. I kinda wish I had been able to watch more of those and hang out with the girls afterwards, but oh well. I had a good time and really appreciate it.”

“You’re welcome, sweetie. I’m glad you enjoyed yourself.”

“Yeah, glad to hear ya had fun, Cure. At least you got to see the last few matches.” Shooting a glare at Deed she adds, “even if they were kinda rigged…”

“HA! Them’s the breaks, babe. You can feel free to start that massage whenever you like though,” Deed says while stretching his fore and back legs all the way out. “Pay special attention to the flanks, and try not to drool on ‘em too much.”

Muttering to herself, Title honors the bet and gets started kneading away at his back.

Raising an eyebrow at his sire, Cure can’t help but ask, “Really, dad? You’re actually gonna make the pregnant mare that ran like twelve kilometers today give you a massage?” Tsking at the stallion, he looks to Title and says, “Don’t worry, mom. Your filial son won’t let you go without either. Once I get dam taken care of I’m all yours.”

“Have I mentioned you’re never allowed to leave, honey?” Title asks.

“Once or twice. Anyhow, as mom figured out, I kinda sorta accidentally attracted a bit more attention than I meant to tonight.” At the round of raised eyebrows he looks to the side and adds a “twice” on before looking back with a sheepish smile.

“So after I met up with the girls they prodded me for the whole story with Wind last night. Well, one of ‘em made a comment about her being a lot bigger than me. I waved it away explaining that, as a pegasus, even if she is older she wouldn’t likely be stronger on the ground than I would.”

With nods and mumbled “uh huh”s from his parents he continues, “Well I think they were teasing me a tad and jokingly called out for me to give ‘em a flex to show off. You… kinda saw that the exercising and tinkering I’ve been doing has had a bit more profound effect than anticipated.”

“Profound effect, he says…” Title laughs, shaking her head. “You look perfectly normal most of the time, Cure. I mean, anypony can tell you’re in good shape, but yeah… that definition when you flexed, that was unreal.”

With a small sigh, Cure admits, “Yeah, I didn’t intend to go that far. Every time I moved, ran, whatever, I told my magic “fix it better, improve” or whatever. I just didn't realize how far it had already gone because I haven't actually pushed myself. I’ll still use it to recover from strain, but I’ll be holding off on any actual strengthening until I've grown a bit. I may actually have to lean down a tiny bit… but that’ll happen naturally as I grow either way.”

"Last night when I was snuggling with dam the last thing on my mind was having a bigger, stronger, faster, armor plated stallion standing over me threatening me. Not in a "I'm scared" kinda way, just that I hated that feeling of weakness. Well I think my subconscious reacted…"

"Huh… so just in the last day you've put on several kilos of muscle?" Title asks.

"Yeah, but I think the run earlier contributed too. I wasn't really paying attention to my muscles because I was watching my lungs, the test I was doing, and monitoring my oxygen levels in my blood. Apparently bulking up, at least to this point, doesn't grab my attention like an injury would, so it just escaped my notice."

"I'll have to start actively monitoring stuff like that from now on. I can only imagine how I could be not paying attention and let other things get out of hoof, especially if it's not always a conscious thing."

“That sounds like a good idea. I’d told yer dam you had put on a bit of muscle, but I hafta admit I was a smidge shocked myself at the show ya put on. So…” with a mischievous smile, Deed leans forward a bit, “the lil ladies show ya their appreciation, son?”

“Actually, yes. Very much so. I had to threaten to start charging them if they didn’t stop feeling me up.”

“Oh my…” Vines mumbles, tail wagging slowly, “did you enjoy spending time with them all?”

Rolling his eyes while his other two parents snicker to themselves, Cure nods to his dam. “Yeah, dam… I actually had a lot of fun. The mint colored one, Sapphire Sprint, really ticked me off at the start, but I think she may just be a bit of an airhead, so she wasn’t trying to be mean.”

At their questioning look he explained, “She’d heard very exaggerated rumors saying I’d tried to really hurt Wind badly and she asked about it. Repeatedly. The other fillies shut her down pretty hard though, so no worries. She apologized afterwards too.”

“Ahh. Hopefully you can squash that rumor real quick.”

“I wouldn’t expect it to go very far, mom. Wind did fly away last night. She wasn’t hurt at all and everypony saw it. It’s even part of the official report, I bet. It adds credence to the whole “guard impropriety” accusation.”

“That was very sweet of you to heal her, honey. Sometimes a mean pony just needs a friendly hoof to show them how to be better.”

“Yeah, well… it’s not like I told her I healed her, so who knows. I bet she’d remember me hurting her more and resents that either way. Anyhow, the point of this all is to let you know that all four girls were very impressed and asked me to help them all get in better shape.”

“Okay… so what’d you say?” Title asks.

“I told them we could meet at the park and do some exercising tomorrow. We planned to meet in the afternoon, so we have plenty of time to get the garden ready, eat lunch, and I can go running with them around the pond again.”

“That’s a good spot to exercise,” Title says while working on Deed’s shoulders. “Having that pond nearby to cool off in afterwards is perfect. You’ll have to be home by evening time, though. The weather team has a storm scheduled tomorrow night.”

“Oh! I forgot! I need to head out and catch a lightning bug!” Shooting off his cushion, he runs out the door, leaving his parents behind to laugh at his impulsiveness.

“It’s so adorable when he’s like this, but he gets so excited it’s like he just zones out,” Vines explains.

“That colt better not come back in here with his rear glowin, I swear…”

“HAH! As long as he doesn’t grow that gross mosquito thing I could live with that.”

“Eugh, that’s an upsetting idea.” Face contorting in thought, Deed growls out, “Damnit, honey, why’d you put that in my mind? Now I’m gonna have nightmares of some kinda mosquito Cure chasin me all night.”

Coming back in with a big grin, Cure says, “Well you wouldn’t get very far, dad. I could just sprout some wings, after all.” Trotting up to his dad, he squats down, ready to pounce. “BZZZZ BZZZZ I NEEDS ME SOME POOONY BLOOD!” he shouts, launching at Deed’s neck.

“AH! GET EM OFF!” Deed yells, thrashing around under his son.

Title, moved clear of the madness, just shakes her head. Looking to Vines she asks, “Does this mean I can be done now?”

Deed, now on top of Cure with him pinned on his back, pauses to look at her, gives her a quick head shake and “nope!” and goes back to snacking on colt belly. “Bite yer ‘ol pa will ya?! I’ll show you who the stallion of this house is, ya lil punk!” Giving him a big raspberry with a loud “PBBBBBBBBBBT”, Deed has to constantly dodge thrashing hooves and knees. “And I know you just went potty… SO NO MERCY!”

Several minutes later, a laugh-drunk Cure is sitting on his cushion smirking at his sire. Deed, once again being massaged, smiles triumphantly back. “Just you wait, old timer. One of these days…”

Waving a hoof dismissively, Deed doesn't even bat an eye. “Yeah, yeah, keep dreamin.”

“Ahem… Anyhow, a few other things. With your approval, I did plan on helping the girls by cheating a bit. Obviously I won’t be doing for them what I did for myself… or even as much as I’m doing for you all, but still. I figure I can play up the “physical touch” part at the start and end and just use my talent while running to keep them movin.”

“You’re always allowed to use your special talent, sweetie. Nopony is trying to say you can’t, just be careful how much you trust other ponies with knowing the extent of your abilities until we can talk to your great grandsire.”

“Sure. Hey, by the way dam, I scanned a mosquito. That’s what I was laughing about, at the rodeo when you all acted like I was gonna eat somepony.”

“Your mom told me.”

“Okay, I thought so. Anyhow, mosquitos have the ability to sense heat. It’s neat, but not exactly how I figured heat vision would be. It’s not vision at all, really. Umm. It’s hard to describe, would any of you like to try it? It’s like how you feel heat when you’re by the fire, but much sharper and from further away… so no brain anything needed at all.”

“Ya know what, sport? I wouldn’t mind trying out one of these fancy abilities of yours. Come set yer pa up and we’ll see what it’s like.”

“Okay, cool. My first vic... uhh volunteer… well, officially, since I’m doing Title’s eyes next weekend. Alright, dad, so what I’m going to do is I’m going to put a thin layer of heat sensors just barely under your skin here, here, and here,” he explained, touching his own spots on his face. “In a week or two once we get used to detecting heat like that we can add more if you want.”

“Sounds neat. Go ahead, son.”

Placing a hoof on his sire’s outstretched leg, Cure gives Deed the same treatment he initially gave himself, keeping the sensors the same size even though there’s a lot more room for them on Deed’s face.

Looking closely, both Vines and Title see there’s no visible change to their husband.

“What? Were you expecting to see them? It’s under his skin, you wouldn’t even know they were there unless you took a biopsy and analyzed it under a microscope.”

“Sorry, sweetie, we just wanted to be sure.”

Waving a hoof, Cure backtracks a bit, “No, you’re right. I didn’t mean to snap at ya. Always double check my work, there’s no reason not to, after all.” Looking at his dad, he takes a few steps back so he’s directly in front of the sensors. “So… can you kind of “feel” me from where you’re laying?”

“Huh. That’s weird.” With his eyes closed, Deed turns his head to look at Vines, then Title, then back. Deed then pans over the rest of the room, pausing here and there to “feel out” the space. “That is kinda awesome, Cure.”

“Yeah? Well watch this,” he says, going around the corner to the kitchen. Leaning up against the wall he says, “Look this way.”

Following his ears to look in Cure’s direction, Deed’s jaw almost hits the ground. “No way! You can see through walls?” Whipping his head around to Title he points to the wall and shouts, “Babe! I can see him through the wall!”

“Ehh, not exactly right, dad,” Cure corrects, coming back to his cushion. “You can see where I’ve warmed the wall up by being close to it. If I was further away it may not be so obvious. Still, if somepony is on the other side of a door or something they won’t be able to surprise you.”

“That is so cool! Oh wow, the guards would absolutely kill to have somepony like you making them all super soldiers. Nopony would be able to sneak around anywhere they weren’t supposed to!”

“That’s not even the really amazing “pony finding” ability. Mosquitos can track the carbon dioxide we exhale from hundreds of feet away. I haven’t tried it yet, but I’m betting I could combine that with the dog’s sense of smell and make it almost completely impossible for anything living to hide from me.”

“Oh, son… your great grandpa is gonna fall over when he sees what all you can do.”

“That kinda reminds me. Mom?”

Pausing the massage, she looks up. “Hm? Yeah, honey?”

“I have a job for you or,” looking to his dam and sire also, “we may need to seek professional help.”

“Oh sweetie, I don’t think you’re that bad. Just a little impulsive at times. I’m sure you’ll grow out of it,” Vines says with a supportive smile.

Pausing for a moment, Cure looks closely at his dam. “... ya know, dam… you’re so smooth with your delivery I almost couldn't tell you were messing with me again.”

Poking the floor with a hoof, Vines makes an exaggerated pout. “Ruinin my fun…” she mutters.

Looking to his sire, Cure asks, “It’s always the quiet ones, isn’t it pa? You never expect it from ‘em and then, bam! The ‘ol sneak attack.”

With a sage nod, Deed agrees with the colt, “Wise words, son. You gotta keep an eye on the quiet ones. You know what they say… meek in the streets…” he says, rolling his hoof for Cure to finish.

Cure lets out a snort, unable to hold back a laugh. “HA! I’m not finishing that. You’re serious though? That’s a saying here too?” At his sire’s nod he chuckles and says, “Oh wow, that’s good stuff. I haven't even seen anything I'd call a street yet." With a cringe it dawns on him that it's his dam they're talking about. "Ah, I didn’t need to know that though. Whatever, “doctor mode” brain filter engaged.”

“Getting back on track, in the country from my memories there’s a lot of rules in place specifically to protect people from the government. The country was actually founded when it rebelled against an oppressive monarchy, so the pendulum kind of swung the other direction and the rights of the individual are fairly expansive.”

Getting nods of understanding, Cure continues, “Well one of the core philosophies in the justice system is that any discussion one has with their lawyer is sacrosanct. Even if the accused flat out tells their lawyer they committed a crime, the attorney must still do everything in their power to represent the accused.”

“Okay…” Title says, urging Cure to continue.

“What I want to know is, does the same attorney-client privilege exist here, and to what extent?”

“Yes,” Title begins, “with the exception specifically for treason against the crown or if you confess to a crime that hasn't happened yet. They can take action to prevent the crime. Otherwise, anything short of actively betraying the country to a foreign power is considered privileged and an attorney can lose their license and be imprisoned themselves for violating that. The princess set that up specifically to protect accused ponies from being screwed over by nobles paying off their attorney to turn on ‘em hundreds of years ago.”

“Good to know. Then… can’t we just hire a lawyer to see if biomancy is illegal in the first place? We may be walking on eggshells this whole time for nothing.”

Mouths hanging slightly open, all three adults look at each other for help.

“None of you even thought of that, did you?”

“Umm… I don’t think I’ve ever spoken to a lawyer before, honey. I’m sorry. I thought we were going to ask your mom to see if she could find it with her cutie mark.”

“We only deal with notaries, son. I’ve only had to get help from a lawyer once when somepony accused us of making off with their money, which was nuts, so I didn’t think of it.”

“Yeah, that butthole was an idiot. We never even touch ANY of the actual money!” she says, stamping a hoof down on Deed’s flank, to his dismay. “That lawyer wasn’t cheap either!” She finally looks down and rubs the spot, mumbling a “sorry babe!” to Deed who’s glaring over his withers at her.

After a moment Title looks to Cure and says, “Okay, yeah, sorry Cure. We definitely missed that one. Deed, babe, are any of your friends or cousins lawyers?”

“I think a couple cousins have a firm that works with grandpa a lot. Maybe we should hold off until we meet with him. Like yer mom said, son, lawyers ain’t cheap.”

“Huh… I would think a simple consult would be pretty reasonable, but okay.” Shrugging, he continues, “Meh, different economy, I guess. I can wait a few weeks. Keeping it in the family may be best either way.”

After the silence drags on for a moment, Cure gets up and gives his dam a nuzzle. “Alright, dam. I think I’ve talked about everything I needed to. Are you ready to have the best massage you’ll ever have in your life?”

“I’m super excited, sweetie. What do you need me to do?”

“Just sprawl out like dad and, with your permission, I’ll cheat with my talent and you just need to stay awake. Or don’t, either way is fine.” Getting into position, Vines’ front and rear legs hang off the cushion by about a foot either way.

“Son? Are your hooves heating up?” Deed asks, looking down towards Cure’s hooves.

“Yep, I’ve been warming them for a few minutes now. That’s why I was sitting with them under me, to speed up the process,” he explains as he climbs on her back and begins kneading into Vines’ upper back and shoulders.

Using his talent he slowly relaxes the muscles as he rubs them with warmed hooves while making massaging “fingers” with his TK field. Vines practically melts into her cushion and lets out a relaxed, content sigh.

“So unfair…” Deed mutters while looking on jealously.

“Uhh, this is something you can do too, dad. You just need to visualize it. Remember on the way to the rodeo how I was tellin mom about light, heat, and how it all works?”

“Light smacks into the tiny vibrating particles, shaking them more and making heat, right?”

With an impressed glance over, Cure gives a respectful nod to his sire. “Well put, actually. Good summary, dad.”

“So yeah, just imagine your hooves are made of billions of those tiny particles. Everything is, after all. Just use your TK field… ya know, vibrate them back and forth a tad, and help them shake a little faster. It’ll take ya a moment, but you’ll see them warming up slowly.”

Title pauses and looks at her own hooves for a minute, clearly in concentration. Glancing over, Cure can sense that it’s working. “You’re on the right track, mom. It’s not a fast thing. Just keep doing what you’re doing.”

With a nod, she goes back to massaging Deed, who is clearly enjoying the warming hooves grinding into his muscles.

“Now keep in mind, you can do the opposite, and it doesn’t have to be your hoof itself. I put a glass of water between my hooves and imagined holding the tiny particles still instead. After a minute those little particles of water were vibrating slower. It cooled the water by a few degrees. Just think how much a nice, cold glass of water would be on a hot day.”

Throughout the explanation, Cure starts moving his back hooves to give his dam’s hips and waist area a massage, one hoof at a time while holding himself with the other while still working her upper back with his forehooves.

“Still with me, dam? I know this has to feel amazing, but I don’t want you to fall asleep before you can enjoy it.”

“Mmhmm, still awake,” she barely mumbles out.

Once he sees that his mom’s back, hip, and the upper shoulder and neck areas are all thoroughly relaxed he slowly climbs off her and sits next to her forelegs to reach her neck. Working his way from her spine down, he gently grinds on her upper trapezius, down into the lower muscles, all while slowly moving up towards her head.

Ensuring that the massage avoids any “overly sensitive” areas, he gently massages the small muscles at the base of her ears, then moves to her jaw, cheek, and forehead.

“You there, dam? You don’t look like you can take much more.”

“‘mm so good…”

“I haven’t even gotten your legs yet, dam. Do you need to go to bed?”

“Mmm, hooves… get my hooves, Cure honey.”

Cure glances over to his sire and mom with a raised eyebrow.

“Go ahead, son. If she passes out I can carry her up again.”

“Alright, you got it.”

Repeating his performance, first on her left foreleg, then right, then her rear legs, Cure is completely unsurprised when she begins snoring. Still, he finishes the massage and gives her a goodnight kiss on her forehead, mumbling “love you dam” in her ear while she softly snores away, a serene smile on her face.

“I want one of those.” Title declares as soon as he steps away.

“Not down here, no you don’t. I ain’t carryin both of ya upstairs.”

“Oh! Even better! Vines can have you tonight, I get my wondercolt for a snuggle buddy!”

“Ugh, I can’t even blame you. Mind givin’ yer 'ol pa one of those tomorrow, son? If I’m gonna be pullin that plow I’ll probably need one.”

“Pfft, I think you’re gonna be surprised how easy pulling that plow ends up being, dad. Sure, though. The ladies tonight, I’ll make it up to ya tomorrow.”

“Sounds great!” Deed says while standing up. “G’nite Cure, love ya son,” he says, wrapping Cure in a quick hug and getting one in return.

Just like the other night, Title helps Deed load Vines up on his back and he carries her upstairs. Giving Title a kiss and a nuzzle goodnight, he rolls Vines into the bed while Title splits off to have her turn.

Thirty minutes later the pink mare is snoring on her belly, passed out under Cure’s warm ministrations. With a little nudge he gets her to roll onto her side. He then snuggles his back against her chest and belly before quickly falling asleep with her forelegs wrapped around him.

Author's Note

So... Time skips are coming soon. The way I have this planned out is that around 25... maybe 26, Cure and the fam will mostly be in a routine. We'll peek in on special occasions, big events, holidays, noteworthy random encounters, or other fun things that I can toss in the mix, but unless we want a 3 , 4, or 500k story about typical everyday stuff a kid has happen (which could be fun with a talented writer, I suppose) we gotta move the clock forwards.

Look for 21 around Monday, give or take, and I'll probably stick to the two-chapter-per-week schedule for the next few, then I'll have to see what kinda craziness I can throw Cure's way.

Chapter 21: Toil

Saturday, September 6th, 908 AB

Cure slowly wakes, feeling the relaxing sensation of his mom grooming his mane and the short hairs of his ears with her tongue. Though the thought kinda grosses and weirds out his human part, the colt instincts apparently have taken over, because the only thing he feels inclined to do is roll over so she can get his neck and chin too.

Knowing that the days of being the baby are limited and he'll only get to be the center of attention for another six months, tops, he listens to his instincts and luxuriates in the attention for as long as he can.

After several minutes Title completes her task and gently lays her head on her son's chest between his forelegs. Wrapping his mom's head in a hug, Cure finally breaks the morning's silence. "Mornin' mom. Love you. How'd ya sleep?"

"Love you too, Cure, honey. I don't think I've ever slept so well. I bet your dam is still snoring away too. That massage was ah-may-zing!" she says, emphasizing every syllable while nuzzling his chest. "Forget cooking for a filly to win her heart, just give her a massage and she'll be yours forever."

"Well don't forget it's dad's turn tonight," he says while poking a cheek, "so no hogging me! You gotta learn to share," he admonishes with a mock scowl.

"Nooooo! Don't wanna."

After a few more minutes of quiet, Title looks at the room's only window. "We may need to get some thicker curtains for the weekend so we can sleep in some more."

Glancing that way, Cure slowly nods. "Yeah, I just happened to end up with an east-facing window. Your room's windows are north and west facing, so you just wouldn't have noticed before. I'm up around sunrise every day anyhow… but I guess this won't just be my room for much longer huh?"

"You have a couple years before you'll have company. She’ll be sleepin with us ‘till she’s potty trained. Then we'll see how ya feel about sharing!" she says with a teasing smile.

Repeating her line, he flails his hooves saying, "Nooooo! Don't wanna." Getting a few soft giggles from his mom, Cure just smiles contently. After a minute he adds, "Actually, I'm pretty okay with that. I'm good waiting a while to be a daddy, but big brother sounds alright. I can't wait to teach 'em all to be mischievous and sneaky. It'll be great."

Giving him a nip in the legpit Title warns him, "You better not, mister. You'll be the one cleaning up after 'em and explaining their behavior to their victims, not me. I'll just shrug and blame you for everything."

"I said to check if the government needed help, not run for office. You'll fit right in though."

"Huh? Oh! The cutie mark thing. Yeah, I need to check that out. It's kinda been floatin in the back of my head since you brought it up."

"Mmm… like a weak compulsion?"

Title pauses a moment and tilts her head. "... huh. I hadn't thought of it like that before."

"Just keep in mind that it's not automatically sinister. Compulsion can be good too. Hunger is one. Caring for your foal is too. Maybe it's the tug of destiny leading you to happiness." With a teasing lilt he adds, "You'd make a wonderful princess, I bet."

"HA! The nobles would die if some no-name trotted in before the princess and threw off her cloak revealing wings, especially when they found out the horn's new too."

"Yeah. Right now the idea of a new alicorn popping up seems impossible to most ponies. It hasn't happened for thousands of years after all. The next one won't ascend for about seventy years. Her colors will be really close to yours actually. Weird coincidence."

"Assuming your future events happen, that is."

"Yeah…" he agrees, nodding into her chin.

"Or maybe," Cure starts, "new alicorns pop up every few years and the princess eats 'em all gone to steal their power!"

"HA! Bad Cure!"

"Mmm just thinking of all that delicious, savory alicorn meat gets my saliva flowin.” Cure loudly licks his chops and smacks his lips. “Just imagine how tender 'n juicy them ribs must be… Mmm."

Poking the colt I'm the side, Title giggles at his silliness. "No eating the princess, Cure! I will ground you if I have to!"

"Aww, just one bite? I'll heal it back afterwards. Ooh! I could just keep healing and eating the same bite over and over!” Throwing his hooves into the air he faux-yells “Infinite alicorn meat for everypony! I'll get the ketchup, you get some forks!"

"Stars, Cure! Yanno most ponies would be running to the guard by now, right?"

"Mmhmm… but you know you want a taste too. Just a little nibble of those soft, delectable flanks. I bet it's way more savory and delicious than those tuna steaks. And the nutrition in each bite is probably off the charts. Just one sweet, tender morsel and your cravings will be gone! Forever!"

"Damnit, Cure. I swear if I start drooling when thinking of the princess I'm gonna give you such a whoopin…"

"Eh, plenty of stallions already do… and mares, I'm sure, so what's one more? I sure hope she can't read minds though. I bet she'd wonder why one of her little ponies is thinking how she'd taste lightly oiled and seasoned with some pepper, oregano, garlic powder, and a dash of salt."

"Oh stars! You don't think she can, do you?"

"I dunno…" he drawls out. “Where’s her next public appearance? We could go find out. You think hungry thoughts at her and I’ll think lewd ones. We’ll see if the dirty-mind colt or the gluttonous mare draw her attention.”

"Cure!"

"HAH! Just teasin. No, she can't read minds."

"Oh thank goodness."

"Her sister definitely can though."

"What?!"

"Ohh yeah. Princess Luna, the Warden of Dreams, will be curious about the pony that’s dreaming about taking a bite outta her sister when she returns. Reeeeal curious. Better start plannin now, you have ninety two years before the big day. She’s gonna be super protective, ya know? Big sister waited a millennium and is gonna welcome her back, so any threat to big sis Tia is gonna be dealt with."

"You're joking, right?"

"Most of the stories have her wielding an enchanted scythe and coming in the dead of night, stalking through shadows unseen and unheard." Giving her a pat on her cheeks he adds, "You'll probably be fine though, no worries."

"You're evil!"

"Pfft… I'm not the one lustin after some alicorn filets. That's all you, mom." After a moment's pause he widens his eyes as big as he can and adds, "You’re a cannibal!"

"Grrr! I'll show you a cannibal!" Holding the smaller colt down, Title starts giving him little nips all over his belly and chest anywhere she can find some loose skin to grab onto. All the while, giggling, he struggles to break free to no avail.

After a minute the pair calms back down, her laying her chin on his chest again while he huffed out “Bully! Pony eating bully, that’s what you are.”

“You’re the one encouraging me to eat more meat.”

“Yeah… we should probably cook those last fish filets tonight. Another day and they’ll start gettin funky.”

“Mmm that sounds good. Can you do the spicy one again? Just don’t forget to keep it mild…”

“Right, right… nopony wants preggo farts. You know, there’s an easy way to fix that.”

“Oh? Another fancy biomancer trick?”

“Nope, you just get a mallet and a big cork-”

Title rears back to get his belly again. Fortunately for him, Cure has prepared this time and uses his tail and TK to pull himself off the bed, then shoots out the door to the bathroom laughing the whole way before she has a chance to chase after him.

“That little turd…” she grumbles. Licking her chops she can only think of the meat she’ll have for dinner. “Mmm I bet the princess is delicious though.” Eyes widening, she covers her mouth and looks around the empty room. With a sigh of relief she stands to leave, all the while muttering about evil foals.

As usual, Cure is the first to break the silence at breakfast.

“So… agenda for the day?” Cure asks between bites.

With a flat look, Title turns to the colt. “Do you really need to plan out every day, Cure? It’s the weekend. We’ll have plenty to do next Saturday, but once we’re done with the garden I’m good with doing nothin all day.”

“Really? You’re not meeting with friends or reading a book or… I dunno… what do you do for a hobby, anyhow?”

“Usually I read or meet with friends,” Title says while motioning to him with a hoof. “The three of us are going to go into town later, but that’s mainly to go shopping. We need to restock the pantry, especially if we’re eating more ‘cause of your exercises.” Turning to Vines and Deed she asks, “Do we have anything going on tonight with anypony?”

“I was gonna maybe go out to meet the guys around sunset, maybe have a drink or two down at the Tilted Wagon, maybe hang out and play some games for a bit.”

“What kinda games do they play, dad?”

“Cards, darts, shoe toss, things like that.”

“Cool,” he gives a few shallow nods, waiting for his dam to take a drink. “Wanna cheat?”

Blasting water across the table, Vines sputters while recovering. “Cure!”

“Jeez, dam, you have a drinking problem!” he shouts, wiping himself with a napkin. Title can’t help but crack up.

“You keep up and I’m gonna!”

"One Dam's Delight comin right up! … Eventually."

Ignoring the byplay, Deed looks to his son. “I’m curious. Whatchya got, colt?”

“Deed!” she shouts again.

“What? It’s not like we play for money. Usually. I can play it off as a trick and maybe win a drink!”

“It’s dishonest! You shouldn’t cheat.”

“Well just off the top of my head I would say you can do some stuff with your heat sensors. How are those working out, by the way?”

“Not bad, I think maybe better once I get used to them. I woke up a couple times when your dam moved because I “felt” her even if she wasn’t touching me.”

“You didn’t sleep well? I swear Cure must have drugged me last night during that massage because I slept like a rock.”

“Oh, I slept great, honey,” Vines says. Turning to Cure she smiles brightly at him. “I don’t remember much after the neck massage, but everything was just so wonderful I don’t think I could have possibly stayed awake for it all. Thank you so much for that.”

“Huh, okay, good. Anytime, dam. Just remember, though, it’s dad’s turn tonight. Like I told mom this morning, you all need to learn to share me,” he says with a teasing smile.

“Oh! I forgot, son. I may need to take a raincheck tonight. Damn, I was really lookin forward to that too.”

“Eh, maybe tomorrow instead. I’d offer to get ya after the garden but I’m pretty sure you’ll need a few hours to recover from that kinda treatment,” Cure says to enthusiastic nods from both Vines and Title.

“Yeah, babe, you’ll never make it to the store, let alone the bar after that.”

“Good point. Sounds great, sport. Just say the word if you’re not feeling it, I certainly ain’t expecting you to be our personal massage colt from now on.”

“Maybe we’ll make it a weekend treat if you can all behave during the week.”

“That’s very gracious of you, honey. We’ll try very hard to behave.”

“Gotta incentivize ya somehow, dam. I know how mischievous you really are behind that sweet, innocent veneer.” Looking back to his sire, he voices some thoughts on ways to cheat. “So one thing I think could work is if you heated up the stake with your hoof while doing some trash talkin, ya know… to distract them?”

Vines simply rolls her eyes and looks at her son and husband with disappointment. Ignoring her, Deed just mumbles “Uh huh” as he listens. Title sits back and smiles, enjoying the show.

“Well, depending on how good your aim is, once you get it warmed up a bit, put on a blindfold and nail it a couple times in a row. Maybe offer to let ‘em spin ya around first. Tell them you have magic magnet powers or something goofy like that.”

“HA! That’s pretty good. What else ya go?”

“Mmm… I dunno, maybe I could take what I learned from the mosquito’s sense of smell and make you sensitive to something we can’t normally detect, then give you some way to mark cards with it. We’d have to experiment with that a bit and it would only work if you had some way to discreetly mark the cards.”

“So maybe just put it on Princesses, Queens, Kings, and Princes?”

“Yeah, I guess Princess is the highest card, right? I don’t think I’ve played cards here at all,” he says, tapping at his chin in thought. “No… that’s weird. Well I guess I am a bit young for that.”

Shaking himself out of thought he continues, “So human cards go Ace-King-Queen-Jack then number cards from ten down to two. In some games the Ace can be used as a one. Same thing here with Princess and Prince for Ace and Jack?”

“Yep, there's also Fools."

"Ah, we call ‘em jokers."

That’s weird, son. Is that what you have to deal with all the time?”

“All the time, dad. It’s legitimately freaky. I swear the two worlds have to be weird alternate dimensions or something. What really makes no sense is why a princess is higher than a king and queen when a prince isn't.” Pointing an accusing hoof at the ladies he shouts, “That's sexist!"

"Don't start that tripe, mister. That's just a respectful nod to the princess."

"Yer mom's right, colt. That goes back to the Consolidated Card Company in Manehattan a few hundred years ago. The Princess card used to be below the Noble, but somepony suggested it be bumped up and the Prince replaced Noble as a nod to the only two royals at the time."

Deed continues, "It started as a commemorative deck but was so popular they just rolled with it a few years later. Those original decks are worth a small fortune now because there's only a dozen or so left."

Bewildered, Cure looks his sire up and down. "Why are you so weirdly well informed about the history of playing cards?"

Sitting up tall and proud with his snout in the air, Deed defiantly declares, "Yer pa ain't no fool, colt. I know all kinda stuff."

"Trivia night at the bar?" Title asks Vines.

Vines just nods, "Mmhmm, remember in January when he stumbled home talking about how history is dumb? That's the question his team lost on."

"Ah," Title mutters while nodding. "Yeah I remember that night. Wore more'n he drank."

Deed deflates, looking pitifully at his wives. "Really? Yer gonna call me out like that in front of our son?"

Cure gives his dad a supportive look. "Haters gonna hate, pa. I got yer back." Raising a hoof he yells, "Down with the gynarchy!"

Pumping a hoof in the air, Deed joins in. "Yeah! Thanks, son." Leaning towards Title he whispers, "What's a gynarchy?" getting an eye roll back.

"Anyhow, you could possibly mark a card in different spots if I can get your sensitivity turned up enough. Or a different number of marks on each card.”

Mulling it over for a minute Cure realizes there’s an easier way, but only if the circumstances are right.

“What kind of lighting do they have in this… bar? I assume?”

With a nod Deed answers, “Yep, it’s a bar, though they do serve some food. They use crystal lights everywhere, ya know.”

“Crystal lights?”

“Yep, most of the businesses open at night have crystal lights… yanno, it’s a crystal with a light spell array in it that also has a small magic reservoir that can be recharged by unicorns. They've got runes in 'em or somethin.”

“Do we have one? Like… for emergencies?”

“No, sweetie, we don’t. Before last week we never bothered because it only holds a charge for a few weeks. It would be too expensive to keep having a unicorn charge one. Now, I’m not sure…”

“Because we may be able to charge it ourselves, right?” Getting a nod from his dam he turns back to his sire. “Well, that stinks. I was thinking maybe the light source had some UV that you could see, I would just need to give you a few receptor cones and … ah I’m overthinking things, never mind.” At his parents’ look he explains, “I can still do that, but I could also give you a patch on your frog or the tip of your hoof that leaves a UV-emitting bioluminescent marker.”

“Umm… I’m not so sure it’s worth all that, son.”

“Yeah… I suppose not. Well, it was still a good thought experiment. Now you know that something is possible that wasn’t before.” With a mischievous smile, Cure pointed out, “If I’m ever away and worried somepony is reading my messages I could put a UV mark on something only you would pick up, though! Think of the espionage potential!”

With no exposure to Bond, Mission Impossible, or any other spy-romanticizing media, none of the parents seemed to have much enthusiasm for the idea. All three just kind of nodded, humoring their ridiculous colt.

Seeing this, Cure lets out a huff and grumbles, “Gah, ponies and their lack of media. I swear, if I could show you the movies I’ve seen you’d all fall over. I wonder if they can project illusions from a crystal too…”

Seeing their son drift off in thought, the adults take the opportunity to finish their breakfast and start getting ready for the work they need to get done in the yard. Since Deed hadn’t emptied the wagon before going to the rodeo, he goes outside to take care of that first.

Vines hurries to clean up the table and kitchen, while Title makes her escape to keep an eye on her husband.

Several minutes later Cure comes to the conclusion that he really needs to finish the books he already got and make a trip to the library sometime next week, if nothing else for the rune one. Taking his bowl, glass, and silverware to the sink and passing it to his dam, he gives her a quick nuzzle and joins his sire and mom outside.

After the three had gathered outside Vines helped Deed strap himself into the harness for the plow. Expecting some monumental effort, Cure sits back and watches as his dad… casually walks back and forth for a few minutes.

Title stares and just mutters a “huh…” while Vines looks over the rows, then back to Deed who is also standing there looking bewildered.

"That was it? That took like five minutes."

All three parents just look at the colt.

"What? You made it sound like this was going to be some difficult thing and you just basically walked back and forth a couple dozen times." Looking over the field for a minute he considers it before looking back, “I coulda probably just done that whenever. Why’d we wait for the weekend?”

"Cure, sweetie, it's usually a little more difficult than your sire made it look."

"More difficult? I didn't have to give him a boost or nothin. Nice job, by the way, dad."

"Uhh yeah, thanks son. Umm, why don't you go read or whatever since, ya know, I think we have this under control and all."

"Yeah, sure. I figured doubling the garden would take a while, but ok. If it's that simple I'll be inside."

His piece said, Cure trots in the house and gets comfortable on a cushion while going through the books he borrowed the other day. The anatomy book helped at first, but with his scanning ability it's usefulness is greatly diminished. Aside from giving the names of the various body parts he learns far more from looking at past scans.

Man if I was good at drawing I could drastically improve their diagrams. If memories could be dumped into my crystal rune projection idea I could put real scans in and have publishers include them with the book like a CD when I was in college. I really need to research the digital capabilities this society has available already.

Hmm… dumping memories into crystals. I wonder if I can dump them into actual memory cells somehow. Well… that’s definitely a “later” project there, but there’s real potential there. Stick a “memory bug” somewhere and copy its memories back later or set up some kind of video surveillance system. Eh, later.

The dietary book had some useful stuff, but he's already read most of it and the special dietary needs for various esophageal and GI issues probably won't apply much when he can just hoofwave away anything requiring a special diet.

Thickened liquids sound awful. I can't imagine drinking a glass of water with the consistency of honey. Blech. It sounds like water-flavored jello. … Actually, I guess that wouldn’t be too terrible as long as it’s cold. Either way, thank Harmony I'll never have to deal with this shit.

The only book he hasn't had time to look over is the safety book from CSGU. The one he was explicitly told to read by the only adult unicorn he knows, who also apparently knows the author, before doing any magic. Know Before You Cast.

Hmm. Maybe this should have been my first stop? Nah, I haven’t “cast” anything. No horn so who cares, it's not like my own magic would hurt me anyway. Well, unless I told it to like the catfish venom, I guess. Ah well, I have nothin else to do until lunch anyhow.

Joining his family for lunch, Cure was more than a little shaken from the horror stories of miscast spells and experiments gone awry. Playing it as cool as possible, he did his best not to let his parents figure out anything was wrong. Still, the normal exuberance could not easily be faked.

Ignoring the slightly curious and-or worried stares, he tries to dispel the quiet atmosphere. "So, the whole garden thing was a cakewalk. Are we still going to leave it until spring or is there something we can plant that'll be harvestable in the next four weeks?"

"Son, I think you may be underestimating how hard pulling a plow normally is."

"What? I know humans used horses to pull plows… of course those are like twice our weight.” Tapping on his chin in thought he considers what he knows about farming. Which is a hell of a lot of nothing, basically.

Didn’t they have like… oxen or something pull shit? Those are big, heavy fuckers. Maybe it’s harder than it seems. Still, such a small garden, even if it’s hard it wouldn’t take long. Meh, not my problem I guess.

Not waiting for him to finish his thoughts, Title explains, "It's not a big garden, only about twenty meters to a side, but each row usually takes a few minutes at least… normally… and pulling that plow when it’s stuck in the ground ain’t easy.”

"Ah… I've never tried. I guess the whole magic and strength buff thing is working then, huh?"

Snorting in disbelief, Deed can't help but agree. "Like you can't believe, colt. It's been a few summers since I worked on a farm. It should have been way harder than that."

"More than a few, honey. You've been so busy trying to build your business that it's been at least six years," Vines points out.

Thinking for a moment, Deed nods before continuing. "Yeah, I suppose so." Looking back to his son he explains, "That just makes the fact I could do it so quick that much more surprising. Just how much muscle did you add on yesterday, son? I don't feel like I look that different."

Title coughs lightly and answers, "You're noticeably trimmer on your sides, and I saw a lot more… bulk in your legs and chest when you were pulling that plow. It… was kinda hot to watch."

"Mmm I noticed that too," Vines adds, looking over her husband appreciatively.

Unable to fully hide his smile, Deed tries his best to scowl at Cure. Cure, completely aware that his sire isn't actually mad, simply smirks back with a raised eyebrow.

"Gah! I can't even pretend to be mad. Be honest, son. How much stronger do you think we are?"

"Compared to four days ago?" Getting nods back here continues, "The actual amount of muscle I've added onto you is probably only a few percent more than you had before. I'm certain that the bulk of the difference in your strength now compared to years ago is from actively channeling your magic all of the time."

"And the lustful eyes from your moms?"

With a scoff Cure answers, "Three or four percent more muscle and five to seven percent less fat, dad. If you were at twenty percent fat to mass before then you're probably closer to eighteen now. Those small percentages add up. We’ve seen how my ability works largely on intent. Well maybe it’s kind of "showing the way" for your magic to follow."

Title jumps in to clarify, "Wait, so you think our magic is following your changes' guidance? That doesn't make sense at all!"

"Ehhh maybe? Think about it like this, my mark makes my magic act as if it's the best at altering biology… it "flavors" my magic towards that bent. Earth pony magic is all about physical prowess and strengthening, so for it to follow my magic’s lead makes sense. I bet a unicorn or a pegasus wouldn’t get the same result."

Nodding slowly, Title urges him to continue.

"So the way I can imagine it working is my magic comes in, interfaces with yours which you're actively cycling, and says, "Here's the blueprint and here's the first few steps, just keep doing that." And even when I disconnect, your magic can still follow along, if for no other reason than because if we're both pushing our magic towards the same results then we'll still be headed the same direction."

"That can't possibly be right, can it?" Deed asks.

"I have no idea. I'm just postulating based on the fact that I, myself, cannot possibly have directly done all of this. It's just like what happened with Amethyst though, even if she wasn't cycling magic. It's the only thing that makes sense. I mean, technically we're all using a tiny bit of magic all the time; maybe the little push I gave it was enough."

“Maybe it’s just working like that because you already want your magic to make you healthier or stronger or whatever. Maybe my magic is barely making a difference and it’s actually yours doing all the work. That doesn’t really explain Amethyst’s recovery, unless I struck a significant enough blow against the virus that hers could knock it out from there.”

“Actually… Considering I didn’t actively do anything to help Amethyst get over the symptoms, but only specifically targeted the virus itself then that would be the logical assumption. Unless my magic acted on its own will or my subconscious desire, which I’m not completely willing to discount, there’s no other reason I can think of that could explain her symptoms being gone so quickly.”

Mulling it over, Cure considers the comparison between the effects of his mark to a computer virus. A beneficial one, granted, but the propagation is reminiscent despite the likely lack of permanence. Hopefully.

There’s no way I’m going to have the “Swol” version of Thinner going on here. Eff that. I’ll have to check on dad again and keep an eye on everypony to make sure it’s not some runaway effect.

Speaking of Amethyst, though, she asked that one question before we started. Man that’s been stickin in my brain ever since. How do marks work?

Pondering the mystery for a moment, something clicked in the back of Cure’s mind.

Wait, wasn’t there a Star Trek episode where everyone starts aging really fast because of an overly aggressive immune system? But… I didn’t change her immune system at all. I just… oh shit… I made new magically-created white blood cells while thinking about eradicating a viral infection.

"Has anypony checked on Amethyst since we came home on Thursday?” Suddenly concerned, he starts getting up to run out the door. “I probably should have followed up yesterday…"

Before he even jumps down, Title waves him to sit. "We bumped into her, Lemon, and the fillies when we were leaving work yesterday. She's doing great. Lemon wants you to drop by the store with a special somepony soon so she can reward you." Title explains, eyebrows wagging at the end.

Oblivious to the implication and still somewhat lost in thought, Cure agrees easily. "Hrm. That's good. Maybe the girls and I can go there after our run today." Sitting back down he lets out a relieved sigh. Note to self: Nothing airborne EVER. Add that to the “include” list on all the things, mysterious magical force. Never let anything I make be able to survive outside the body.

Smiling brightly, Vines wiggles a little in her chair before speaking up. “Back to your question about what crops are okay right now, we could do spinach and lettuce. Those will grow before the cold hits. Also, plants like beets, turnips, brussel sprouts… mostly ground level stuff. You get the idea,” she finishes rolling her hoof in a “and so on” motion.

“Okay, well maybe we should do that tomorrow. We can work together and all contribute and have them growing in well under half the time. When’s the next time you’re planning on going to the market? Also, do we need to like… stock up the pantry for winter?”

“Only if you want fresh fruits, honey. We can grow all of those plants all winter long. They’re hardy greens, so no need to worry about that. The store will still have some fruits from the south in the winter along with all the normal stuff. The market is normally every Sunday, but the weather team messed up so it was on Monday this week.”

“Okay… I just don’t really remember what I ate over the last few winters, ya know? I was just like, “Hey! Food! Nomnom” and never paid attention. I do remember eating a bunch of greens though.”

“Jeez, Cure, I know you complained about a lack of progress, but it’s not like there’s ponies starving in the streets or anything.”

“I know, I know. It’s weird meshing like forty some odd years of one set of memories with like four and a half of another set. It’s confusing at times, okay? Hunger was a real legitimate problem for humans even in my day. Mainly due to poverty, but in some parts of the world also due to other issues like logistics and crop failures.”

“It’s okay, Cure. Like we keep sayin, we’re all here for ya.”

“I know, mom.”

Quietly eating for a few minutes, Cure looks up at his father before he remembers something from the day prior.

“Dad?”

“Hm?”

“I thought it was storming tonight. You’re gonna go out in that?”

“Sure, why not?”

“Umm… it’s a storm?”

“So? A little rain won’t hurt me. I can be home from the bar in a few minutes.”

Looking to Vines and Title for help, Cure is surprised that they’re utterly unconcerned. “I think this is a pony thing. You’ve never let me outside in a storm before. My human memories agree that a child shouldn’t be because of wind, rain, and lightning, but also say an adult shouldn’t either. Is there something I’m missing here?”

Deed looks confused for a moment before asking, “Why would there be lightning anywhere near town?”

“Umm… because there’s a storm? Storms have lightning?”

“Cure, sweetie,” Vines begins, “the weather team will only use agency approved storms over a populated area like this. You’ve said humans have no magic, so I’m guessing the storms that hit towns have a bunch of lightning?”

“Oh. Yeah, a few people die from it every year. Not many, but that’s because most people won’t be outside when there’s a thunderstorm coming.”

“I don’t think I’ve ever heard of a pony being killed by natural lightning, Cure.” Title stops to think for a moment. “It flat out wouldn’t do anything to a pegasus. Unicorns can shield themselves, and often do put one up against rain, albeit a weak one. We can just shrug off a normal lightning strike.”

“You mean… a lightning strike wouldn’t hurt an earth pony at all?”

“Not really, no. Even without your fancy magic tricks we’re pretty hardy. Lightning just cycles around us and discharges into the ground, typically. Pegasi can charge it as a weapon, though, so it can be dangerous with a pegasus specifically trying. The noise can hurt a bit though.”

“Ah… so it’s a magic thing. Either our ambient magic or our TK field ground the charge out but pegasi can … I guess “imbue” would be the right word. They can imbue the cloud with their own energy to counter or bypass that shield? Huh. Neat.”

“Yeah, it can do some serious damage.”

“How in the world did earth ponies before unification deal with a foe that has full air superiority and… like… infinitely more mobility?”

“Probably by starving them to the point they couldn’t fly, then beating them to death. Or nets,” Deed suggested. “That’s all ancient history that was mostly lost during the Age of Chaos, but those are my guesses. Or they paid off unicorns with food. Who knows, maybe they played the other two tribes against each other.”

“Yeah… I guess that’s true. That librarian unicorn, Binder… dunno his full name, probably Book Binder given how y’all name foals, but he said something about a history book on the subject. Maybe I’ll check that out next time I’m at the library. I’m assuming that’s how an earth pony would deal with a griffon? Nets?”

“Oh yeah. You get a net on a griffon and they get all tangled up right quick. They’re not as fast maneuvering as a pegasus, so they’re easier to hit in the air. They are a little stronger than pegasus on the ground, though… but most would only carry light blades or rely on their claws, so…”

“Out range them with thrown weapons and spears?”

“You got it, sport. That’s what grandpa used to tell us, at least. Dragons are a whole different story, from what he said. Especially the bigger ones.”

“I bet. Well, once again, we got way off subject. I was going to ask if you’ll be alright in the rain and wind, but I bet you can mitigate a lot of that with your TK field now that you know about it.”

“Huh… I was gonna take a hat to keep the rain outta my eyes. I’ll hafta practice that TK thing before I go out.”

“Dam bought us some nice round rocks. I’d say go outside and try it, but you may want to do it inside unless you want the neighbors seeing you.”

“Good thinkin, champ.”

“Yeah, try to hover the rocks just slightly off of your skin, that way a casual observer won’t notice you’re staying dry. Also, keep in mind that air is a thing. You’re touching it too, you just have to mentally grab it.”

“Oh! Show me!” Title shouts.

“Okay, well, I haven’t tried, but let’s see…” Setting his utensils on the table, Cure holds his hooves up in front of him so they’re pointed together. Imagining a suction cup shape on the end of each hoof, he solidifies the TK field as much as he can and presses together. As he presses harder and harder, he can feel the pressure inside of the now enclosed circle increase. Rather than trying to “pop the balloon” he simply increases the pressure a small amount, then dissipates the TK field.

From his parents’ perspective, he hasn’t really done anything, just put his hooves together while lining them up. Then, suddenly, there’s a small “whoosh” sound and a little rush of air from in front of him. Blinking a couple times, Cure mutters “That was dumb. Right in the frickin eyes."

“Oooh! So neat. I swear, Cure, the fun ideas you have. Wait, does that work on dirt too?”

“Why wouldn’t it? Huh, I guess I should have thought about that before you all went out in the garden.”

“Ya think?” she asks with a scowl.

“Well… I bet you could eventually get good enough with your TK field to push dirt and stuff right out of your coat. I dunno, though. It could pull the hair if it’s like caked-in mud or something. It’ll take some testing, just like every other thing.”

“Hey, son, why did I feel that it got a tiny bit warmer for a second before you let it go?”

“Oh? You picked that up huh?” At Deed’s nod, Cure explains, “Well you know what heat is now. As I pushed the air particles together they bumped up and ran into each other a bit, being all squeezed together and whatnot. It should have been a tiny difference, though.”

“Huh… that’s kinda neat, son. So couldn’t we kinda squeeze air against us to keep warm when it’s cold or windy out too?”

“Umm. I dunno, probably. If nothing else you could likely arrest the air current somewhat so the wind isn’t actively removing heat as quickly. You know, mitigate the wind chill factor to a degree. Just be careful you’re not trapping a solid bubble of air around you.”

Giggling, Title points at Deed while saying “HA! I could see your sire making himself pass out like that.”

“Exactly my thoughts. I dunno if you could do it, but at least let some air flow through around your nose and mouth. Or yer rear unless you really wanna be breathin yer own farts.”

Deed and Title both start cackling at the thought. “Fart in a bubble! HA!” she shouts while banging on the table.

“Cure! That’s disgusting! Why can’t we ever have a normal meal?”

“Oh come on, dam. That’ll be my bargaining chip if I’m ever hauled in front of a noble. I’m sure they would love to have an ability like that. They’re so in love with themselves they’d probably consider breathing their own fart a privilege instead of having to share it with the rest of the room.”

Bent over laughing, Title pounds the table choking out “fart sniffers!” between guffaws. Deed isn’t much better, leaning away from Vines and doing his best to not laugh too loudly.

“Children. Nothing but children, I swear!” Vines shouts, even though she’s barely holding back a laugh too.

“Stop holdin back, dam. We all know you’re just as crazy as the rest of us. Join in the madness!”

With an aggrieved sigh, Vines rolls her eyes and finishes her lunch, faux complaining about her crazy, childish family the whole way to the sink.

Cure explains the, in his opinion, greatest potential use of the TK field, “Of course you could always hold that bubble shut to deploy the stink bomb at a strategic time. Yanno, blast out a real cheek-flapper, hold it in a bubble, wait until you pass by somepony you don’t like, and just let it go. Silent But Deadly on demand. You’d be like a fart assassin. Gassassin? Meh, needs work.”

Neither parent can hold back at that suggestion. Deed and Title are both hunched over the table cackling and Cure swears he hears a snort-laugh come from the kitchen too.

After a few minutes everypony finally gets themselves under control. Cure looks out the window and figures it’s probably time for him to go meet the girls.

“Well, I don’t know about you both. I’m sure you're very tired from the garden,” paying no mind to the two stuck out tongues, “what with all the hard work you didn’t do, you’re welcome very much by the way, but I have a meeting I need to get to. Important business and whatnot.”

Jumping down from his spot, Cure takes his setting into the kitchen and does his TK escalator bit while giggling to deposit everything on the counter for an amused Vines. Giving her a quick nuzzle and a “love ya, dam, see ya later” he darts off to take care of the “predeparture necessities” then washes up and heads back to the table.

Now ready to go, Cure walks up and gives his sire a big hug and a nuzzle, “Dad, if you’re gone before I get back please be careful. I know you said storms are harmless, but the ‘ol ape brain still doesn’t like ya bein out in one. Love you.”

Deed returns the hug, and with a dismissive hoof wave says, “Eh, don’t worry sport. What could possibly go wrong? I’ll be fine. See ya when I get home!”

Jumping back, Cure shouts over his dad yelling, “Oh my god, dad, stop talking! What the heck, man? How about you start talking about retiring next week while you’re at it? How many death flags can you throw in a five second span, dude?”

“Death flags?” Deed asks.

“From books, honey,” Title starts, “whenever someone says stuff like what you just said it means they’re about to go die. The retirement one’s new for me though.” Looking to Cure she asks, “Got any others?”

“Umm… oh! In human culture we give a ring to a girl to propose, so anytime somebody showed their buddy a ring and talked about the girl of their dreams they were a total goner. Or their baby that’s on the way.” Angrily waving his hooves at the heavens he shouts, “GOOSE! HANG IN THERE MAN! YOU HAVE SO MUCH TO LIVE FOR!”

Snickering, Title gives her example. “Oh I’ve seen that in romance novels where the soldier talks about his or her special somepony!”

“Oh yeah, or the soldier’s all like “I’ll buy you time!” or “I’ll hold em off!” and tells everypony else to make their escape. They’re toast,” Cure nods in agreement.

Deed is just shaking his head looking between the two.

“Or if the character is a total jerk to the protagonist or likes the same pony!”

“There’s also the one where the soldier has that unbreakable shield or something like that.” With a patronizing tone he slowly nods while saying, “It’ll totally work out, invincible shield soldier pony! I’m sure you, of all ponies, will be fine!”

“Didn’t you need to go?” Deed asks while scowling.

Pointing a hoof at him, Cure nods in satisfaction. “Perfect! Don’t say another word! Nopony can die after some random, harmless sentence like that.”

Heading towards the door, Cure calls over his withers, “I’ll always remember you, dad! Don’t worry, I’ll take care of dam and mom! We’ll all live forever and be super rich and they’ll probably remarry really quickly to a more attractive stallion that I'll call dad from then on, so we’ll be fine!”

“You’re not funny!” Deed yells.

“Just make sure your head survives! I can probably build you a new body if I get to you fast enough. It may not be the same color, though. It depends on how creative I get with “resources” after all!” Cure yells while shutting the door and trotting off.

“Can…uhh can he do that? For real?” Deed warily asks.

“Umm… I don’t know? Maybe? It would depend, like he said, on how fast he got to you. If your brain has blood flowing with oxygen and nutrients in it, then yes, probably.”

“That is kind of horrifying. Amazing, but horrifying. I better never wake up on somepony else’s body though. I will be very unhappy.”

“Rather attached to the one you got?” she asks with a smile.

“That was terrible.”

“Okay. How bout this,” In a silly voice she says, “You’re unhappy? Think about how the other pony felt!” Wagging her eyebrows she asks, “There! Was that better?”

With a full-on grimace, Deed’s whole body shudders. “Not really, and No… I’d really rather not, thank you.”

“Subject change?” she asks.

He nods back. “Subject change.”

Both ponies finish their last few bites and look around awkwardly.

“I got nothin,” Deed complains.

“Yeah, me neither,” Title says, nodding. “Well, just in case this is your last few minutes alive,” she starts with a smile to his scowl, then she huskily asks “I don’t suppose you’ve still got enough energy for another round of plowin?”

“That was just as bad as the last one, but yes.” Turning towards the kitchen he yells, “Vines, time to get Spreadin! We’re colt-free!”

“Oh thank the stars!” she yells from the kitchen, running straight up the stairs.

“Yeesh, somepony’s needy,” Title observes.

“Yeah. Think she’s too close to estrus to be safe?”

“I say you just let it happen if it does. Were you wanting Cure to flip yer balls over to the “Colt Only” setting first, though?”

“Eh, we talked about it in bed this morning. I think we’ll be happy either way. Celestia only knows what another colt could be like. Sun and stars, can you imagine that,” he points towards the door, “only evil?” Considering, he amends “Well, evil-er?”

“No, but I’ve never heard of anything like this either, so what are the odds it could happen again?”

“Didn’t you just warn me about flags? That sounded a lot like a flag.”

She looks at him aghast, covering her mouth with a hoof. “It kinda felt like a flag, didn’t it?”

“Yeah.” Letting out a sigh, Deed looks to the stairs, “Well, let’s not leave our wife waiting. Shall we?”

Waving, she says, “You go first, I wanna enjoy the view.”

“Oh you’ll be enjoyin it alright, just from the opposite angle. Now c’mon.”

Author's Note

Apparently I am the moron on the weather team that got the day wrong. Whoops!

Chapter 22: Crew

Saturday, September 6th, 908 AB

Cure shuts the door behind him and starts trotting towards the park. He’s a few minutes early, but he figures his parents are probably thrilled to have him out of the house for a slightly-late nooner.

Eh, I always preferred to let the food digest a bit. Nothin’s worse than poundin away and having to pause to let out a huge belch. Well, there are worse things, I suppose, but that was still a major turn-off for her.

Wait… I haven’t belched once like… ever that I recall. It can’t be a “no soda pop” thing, even babies get reflux and burp. Of course milk has lactic acid; I remember it will dissolve a tooth too. Maybe pony dam milk is lactose free? Nah, it can’t be. We wouldn’t be able to stomach cow’s milk if our bodies couldn’t handle lactic acid. Still, not one burp in my entire life I can recall. It must be tied to the whole “ponies can’t vomit” thing.

Looking inside himself quickly finds that there’s absolutely no acid leakage from his stomach. With a mental shrug he can only assume that something is there that humans lack that makes sure the esophagus is a one way street.

Well whatever it is, I sure as hell won’t miss acid reflux. Pony Esophagus-slash-Stomach Engineer dude is getting an altar right next to the Pony Butthole Engineer dude once they bless me with their visages. No Prilosec, no Tums, no Pepcid, no problem.

Approaching the park, Cure immediately spots his current two favorite fillies tearing up the playground equipment. Amethyst is sitting near some other mares watching over the girls and occasionally chatting with them. Once Cure gets close enough for her to spot she smiles broadly and waves him over.

“Well howdy, Cure. How’re ya doin, colt?”

“Pretty good Mrs. Blossom. Glad to see you’re up and about. My mom says she bumped into the four of ya yesterday before the rodeo. Sorry I didn’t come to follow up on ya, it musta just slipped my mind. Yesterday was pretty busy.”

“Yah it sure was. Shame I couldn’t make it to tha rodeo. That fine stallion Thunder Whip won the show ‘n I woulda love ta meet ‘em.”

“Yeah, my mom didn’t know who he was, so she bet against my sire and lost when he lasso’d that green stallion in the finals. She ended up havin to give him a massage when we got home.”

“HA! I bet yer thick headed sire didn’t even think ta give her one, even if she’s carryin his foal.”

Pointing at her with a hoof he shouts, “That’s what I said! I gave him a bit of a hard time for it then told her I’d take care of her after my dam. Huh, I feel kinda cheated… everypony else got a massage but me.”

Snickering next to Amethyst is a light yellow earth pony mare that Cure doesn’t recognize.

“HA! Ya gave both yer dam and mom a massage while that lazy stallion jus laid there? Oh I’m gonna have to give ‘em a whoopin,” she says while glancing towards the house. Looking back to Cure with a smile and a nod she adds, “At least one stallion in that house knows how ta treat a mare.”

“You bet, Mrs. Blossom. A stallion’s gotta treat his mares like the gems they are!" he insists with a serious nod. "To be fair to my sire, though, I think I give a better massage than most ponies ever could.”

Snorting out a laugh, Amethyst turns and pokes the yellow mare while laughing, “Gems! Get a load of this colt, Daisy! Iff’n I didn’t see it while he was talkin I’d swear his tongue’s pure silver!”

Laughing along, Daisy, apparently, nods in agreement. “He sure is a charmer, Amy.” Looking to Cure she adds, “Better watch out, young colt. Yer gonna make the others jealous if you steal all the lil fillies’ hearts.”

Feeling his ears pink a little at the two mares’ teasing, Cure simply nods saying, “I’ll keep that in mind, ma’am. I don’t think there’s enough of us around for anypony to feel left out, though.”

Amethyst turns back to look Cure in the eyes. Letting out a sigh she flicks her snout at him saying, “Hmm… I reckon ya give one Tartarus of a massage, can’t ya colt? Damn I’d pay good money ta find out. Bet yer dam barely survived it, yah?”

“Went two for two, actually. Poor dad didn’t get much of one before he had to cart dam up to bed. Mom was a bit impatient when I offered to get her next. She conked out on my bed before I even made it to her second hoof, same as dam,” Cure explains while keeping an eye out for the fillies. Off in the distance he can see Rising and Sapphire are headed his way.

“HA! Such a good colt.” Following Cure’s eyes, Amethyst spots the girls as well. “Yer gonna make some fillies real happy some day, son. Meeting a couple here today, ainchya?”

“I ran into a few classmates of mine at the rodeo. There should be two others on the way too, but they wanted to all start exercising with me.”

Looking him over Amethyst thinks for a moment. “You look a fair bit leaner’n toned than ya were before.” Motioning him closer, she leans over and whispers, “Cheatin with yer talent?”

“More than any cheat’s ever cheated before, Mrs. Blossom.”

With an approving smile she says, “Good. You master that and nothin’ will ever stop ya. Jus don’t lose yerself, colt. Someponies let that kinda thing go to their head.” Sittin back up she glances towards the girls. “I think yer fillyfriends are ‘bout here, so go have yerself some fun. Take ‘em to the shop later. I’m on foal duty today, but Lemon wants ya to stop by.”

“You bet Mrs. Blossom. Take care.”

Farewells exchanged, Cure heads to meet Rising Pitch and Sapphire Sprint a little ways from the playground equipment. He spots Delta Coast off in the distance and coming from the direction of town is Dawn Glow… along with a slightly familiar looking unicorn stallion.

“Hey Cure!” Sapphire shouts while running up. “Was that yer mom?”

“Nope, just a neighbor I helped the other day.”

Rising glances towards Amethyst and looks over the playground equipment. “Oh, is that the mare that was sick you were foalsitting for? I think I see the same fillies on the slide.”

“Yep, that’s Amethyst Blossom. The girls do stand out, what with their mirrored colors, don’t they?” With a nod from Rising he mentions Amethyst's offer, “After we’re done she wants us to go to her wife’s shop. Remember I said her and Lemon Sweet own a candy store in town?” At Rising’s “yep” he continues, “She said to stop by when we’re done and to bring you all along if ya want to.”

Sapphire looks like she’s about to light up. Apparently somepony has a sweet tooth. Rising is all for it too, and when Delta Coast gets close enough to be filled in she's excited to go also.

Looking in Dawn’s direction, Cure cycles a bit of magic through his eyes. They’re still over a half mile away, but from the looks of it the stallion, or maybe older colt, with Dawn looks far too young to be her sire. “Do any of you know if Dawn has an older brother?”

Following his eyes, all three fillies look towards the approaching unicorns. Coast nods and explains, “Yep, that’s Solar Strike, her only sibling. She said he’s gonna join the guard after the new year when he turns sixteen.”

Cure turns his enhanced vision off and looks to the girls. “Huh, neat. I’m considering maybe doing that some day. Have any of you thought about it?”

Both Sapphire and Coast nod with “dunno, maybe” answers while Rising seems to be wholly disinterested. As a group, Cure and the three fillies go to meet up with Dawn and find out why her brother’s tagging along.

Solar Strike is about a hoof and a half shorter than Cure estimates Mr. Binder to be. Cure’s guess is that he’d just gotten his mark within the last year or two, assuming the explanation from his parents is accurate, so his first year in the service is probably going to be pretty rough if he has to compete with older, stronger, more mature stallions.

Approaching the group, Dawn smiles brightly and greets everypony. After a quick round of “hello”s she waves to her brother to introduce him as well. Cure can’t shake the feeling he’s met this colt, but he knows for a fact he hasn’t. Frustrated by the confusion, he finally asks.

“Hey Solar… you seem like, really familiar to me. Have we met before?”

Dawn freezes on the spot, Cure notices. The red colt smiles and shakes his head. “No, but I’m pretty sure you met our sire a couple days ago. He was one of the guards that got called out when a certain somepony called for help.”

“Ah. He’s the medic isn’t he? I remember now… he was looking at Wind Shear while Corporal Sabot was getting our contact info.” Looking at Dawn he asks, "Why didn't you say something last night?"

With a glum look she mumbles, "I didn't know if you'd be upset," only letting out a relieved sigh when he waves a forehoof with a "Pfft, no way."

“That was him. Good memory, Cure. Shame about all that mess. Our sire came home cursin up a storm at Washout’s behavior. Said it was a shameful mark against the town guard.”

“His name's Washout?” Cure asks in an amused tone.

“I don’t know his actual name… Tailwind something, I think… Washout’s just what our sire calls him. He… has a reputation.”

Cringing a bit, Cure explains, "I could see how. I didn’t like what I had to do, but I didn’t have a lot of options. I don’t think the optics were very good, though, havin a younger earth pony getting the third degree from an armored pegasus guard. That one mare almost bit his head off,” he finishes with a chuckle.

Nodding in agreement Solar gives Cure a somewhat surprised look, “That's a good point. Not one I'd expect from somepony your age, honestly. That’s the same thing dad said. Said with so many other earth ponies around it may cause distrust if they didn’t discipline him. He’s got shipped over to Fort Meadow down south just a bit. He won’t be back for a couple months, just in time for Hearth’s Warming.”

Dawn takes the moment’s pause to jump in. “Solar’s gonna jog with us if you’re okay with it, Cure. He’s looking to get in shape enough to join the guard and, since he’s younger and just got his mark last year, he’s gotta really work at it.” With a pink hue to her ears she adds, “I told him how strong you were and he said he’d like to come too.”

“Yep, she sure did,” Solar starts, “She told us your special talent is to help ponies get healthy. Well if you can lend me a hoof I’d sure be grateful. I’m worried that if I can’t pass Basic Training I’ll hafta wait a whole year to try again.”

“He’s been working really hard, Cure. I hope you don’t mind?” Dawn adds in a pleading voice.

“No… of course not,” Cure says, waving away any concern. With a smile and a respectful nod he adds, “That’s downright respectable, Solar. I’d be proud to help a future guardspony. I don’t have anything against them after that fiasco; that had nothin to do with the guard at all, just an overprotective sire. As long as you’re okay getting help from somepony so much younger, that is?”

Scoffing at the idea, Solar just grins back. “Pfft, eight or twenty eight doesn’t matter to me. If your special talent is helpin ponies get healthy and you're willin to lend a hoof I would be dumb not to at least ask for it. I'll definitely owe ya one if you can help me get ready.”

“Okay, well, before we get started I do have to talk about my special talent for a few minutes. Everypony is listening, right?”

Sapphire, Coast, and Rising had been chatting a bit on the side, but they all snap to attention with Cure’s calling for them.

“Okay, good. So the plan for today is to head south of the park, past where I live. There’s a pond down there that’s perfect for cooling off when we’re done. I know that’s more convenient for me, so if anypony doesn't want to do that, just speak up and we can run around the park instead… it’s not too warm out today, probably because of the front movin in for the storm tonight.”

Looking at the group, Cure gives everypony a chance to speak up. They all just glance around at each other, which Cure takes as an agreement. “Okay, now the next part is something I really want to keep quiet. Solar, Dawn, I don’t know if it’s the same for unicorns, but several earth pony families are always afraid that a foal with a useful special talent will have nobles come down from the mountain and secret them away.”

Dawn and Solar look taken aback. Glancing at the other three girls for confirmation both Rising and Coast grimace a bit and nod. “I don’t know if they’re serious, but I’ve heard my parents say stuff like that. I told my dam about my plans today and that was one of the first things she said, in fact,” Rising explains.

“Huh… Well, more ponies must already know about my talent than I realized.”

“The other day when you were headed to town…” Coast starts. At Cure’s look she explains, “When you and your dam were goin to the library. You told Heavy that your special talent is helping ponies be healthy and about your leg healing fast. Everypony was talking when you left… they said they gotta keep an eye out for ya so nopony comes to take ya.”

Cure can feel his ears falling at the implication. “Oh. Wow. I… had no idea.”

Dawn looks up to her brother with wide-eyed worry and asks, “Is that something that actually happens?”

Solar, caught completely off guard by the whole conversation, just looks at everypony, shakes his head in confusion and shrugs, “I’ve never heard of this at all. I have no idea. We can ask our sire if you want, Cure. You said this is something a lot of earth ponies worry about?”

“I dunno. It seems that way. My sire said something first, but I kinda wrote him off as just being paranoid. Then somepony else, completely separately, told my dam something similar." Considering the fact his neighbors are apparently covering his back, Cure can only smile in relief at the community's solidarity. "It’s kinda cool that everypony is lookin out for me. I wonder if that’s why they all came runnin when I yelled for help.”

“HA! You’re serious?” Solar asks. At Cure’s look he goes on, “Cure, I was at home. Inside. I heard you yell,” in a fake yell voice he says “this guard is threatening me” then continues, “all the way up in my bedroom while I was reading. I almost came to see what was up. How in the hay did you do that from here anyhow?”

“Uhh… a strong diaphragm?”

Looking at the younger colt’s chest, Solar slowly nods, “I guess so… jeez. You earth ponies are ridiculous with how strong ya get.”

Dawn looks between the two, then at the other fillies. “Is it really that much of a difference?”

Solar scoffs and looks at her. “In raw strength? Yes. It’s not even close. I’ve been studying up for the guard,” he pauses to wave a hoof at Cure, “I'm over three hooves taller and about double his weight and he’s probably as strong as me. Want to show ‘em, Cure?”

“What do you have in mind?”

“Nothin fancy, just come over here and put a hoof against mine and push me back. Please don’t smash my frog, okay?”

“I can try…”

Standing on three legs, Solar puts his larger hoof straight out. Cure stands opposite to him with his hoof lined up so it won’t slip and go into the gap where Solar’s frog is, reaching up a bit to meet the taller colt. Once their lined up Solar nods and says, “Go ahead, dude. Push a bit.”

Initially, Cure just uses his muscles, anchoring himself on the three hooves with his TK field. He can feel Solar pushing back, but not enough to move him. After a few seconds he channels a bit of magic into his muscles and pushes forward, pulling with his front hoof that’s on the ground.

The young unicorn is pushed back hard enough to begin lifting off the ground before the two separate and back away from each other.

“Yeah… totally unfair. When you’re all grown up you’d be able to toss me over a building. A kilometer away. Your talent’s ridiculous, Cure. Perfect for an earth pony if ya ask me.”

“Huh… I hadn’t thought of it from that angle. Being "as healthy as possible" is a very “earth pony” talent, isn’t it? I was originally thinking a unicorn with the talent to help other ponies get back to full health would make more sense, but…”

“You realized you can heal just the same as a unicorn would, you just have to be touching somepony?” Dawn guessed.

“Yep. No horn, no range,” Cure blurts out without thinking, then does his best not to panic as it dawns on him what he just said.

"Wait... this is like... an active ability?" Solar asks.

Ah shit. I should have known a unicorn would know a lot more about magic than everypony I’ve dealt with so far.

Given the lack of props available, Cure doesn't see any way to disguise or obscure his ability. With a slow nod he answers the question to Solar's widening eyes. "Wow... Well, if I’m ever hurt real bad I hope you're not upset if I come crawlin your way."

Thinking for a moment, Solar finally connects the dots. “So… I’m guessing that your talent lets you heal muscles after each workout. That’s how you, as Dawn said,” he pauses to smirk at his sister, “got so ripped in just a week. Your getting several times the benefit of each workout... and you can just keep going and going, so each workout is way more intense." Slowly shaking his head he adds, "That's just so unfair...”

Cure can’t help but smile at Dawn’s glow, again. “Ah. Living up to yer name, there, Sunrise. She have anything else flattering to say about my hot body?” he asks while flexing a bit in his chest and forelegs. All four girls eyes immediately snap in his direction while Solar cracks up at their expressions.

“C’mon Cure, she is my sister, after all. Maybe I’ll tell ya after a week or two, sound good?”

“HA! You bet. So anyhow, part of my talent lets me see what’s wrong with a pony, okay?”

“So you can probably see everything like my sire says his diagnostic spells can, can’t you? I guess you'd have to so you know what needs healing.”

“Yes. I assume, at least… it’s not like I can cast those spells.”

“So, just to be sure, you do realize that there’s no simple spell he’s ever heard of to “heal” anypony, right?”

“I was told that no such spells exist, but that came from an earth pony, so I wasn't sure...”

“And that’s why your parents are worried somepony is gonna come snatch ya away?”

“Yep.”

“That… actually sounds like something that could happen, assuming that’s something that ever happens. Well, if it sets your mind at ease," Sitting on his haunches, Solar straightens to his full height and places a hoof over his heart, "I swear by the Sun, Moon, and Stars that, barring a direct order from Her Highness and except in situations of life or death, I will tell no soul of what you can do.”

“Actually… Yes, that’s kind of a huge relief. Thank you." Taking a deep breath, Cure lets out the worry that had been building since the start of the conversation. After a calming ten count he turns to the fillies who have been chatting amongst themselves. “Okay, ladies," he calls, once again getting their attention, "What Solar was saying is that when I use my special talent on a pony it works like a diagnostic spell. I take patient confidentiality very seriously, though, so barring life or death situations I would never betray that trust.”

Looking between the four he continues, “When I’m in doctor mode I’ll be a lot more serious, so no jokes or comments or anything like that either. If you don’t want me to use my talent on you I will understand, I promise. You’d still be welcome to exercise with us, but you’ll definitely see far, far slower progress.”

“So… you can see like… everything?” Sapphire asks hesitantly, heavily emphasizing the word.

“Yes. Everything. I’m not going to sugar coat it. I’ve used it on myself plenty, obviously. Our bodies can be kind of gross, especially all the digestion bits, but I’ll always do what I can to remain professional about it. I know how much trust it takes to let someone see you like that. I would never blab to somepony else about your medical info. Take this seriously, just like you would with an actual doctor.”

Though they were initially blushing, each one stopped to consider that.

“Well dude, I’m not worried at all. Our sire has scanned us with his diagnostic spells plenty of times and if your talent works like yer saying you'll end up see thousands of ponies in your life, so what's one more? Go ahead,” he says, holding a hoof out.

“You may feel a sensation like a breeze blowing over your coat. Let me know if you notice anything else. This is still kind of new for me.” At Solar’s nod he reaches out and touches his hoof, activating his mark and performing a scan of the older colt.

Cure can tell that he is probably at least a year away from finishing growing. His growth plates are still open, indicating he’s still in puberty, and there’s no sign of any of them fusing yet. Overall Solar’s health seems great. He clearly has been running a lot, likely for the last year, though. Cure can feel his attention being drawn to the colt’s knees and ankles.

Glancing at the girls that are keenly watching the two colts, Cure looks back to Solar. “Umm… know how to do a privacy bubble thing?”

“Nope!” Instead, the pair step away a few meters or so and Solar leans down so Cure can whisper to him.

“You’ve been running a lot to get in shape, haven’t you?” Solar simply nods yes. “It looks like you’re dealing with sore knees and ankles… I bet that sucks at night, huh?”

“Like you wouldn’t believe dude. Sometimes I just lay in bed with an icepack on each knee.”

“Want me to help with that?”

Nodding emphatically, Solar immediately agrees. “Very much yes. Please,” he says, holding out a hoof again.

Pointing out the targets, Cure lets his magic go to work. Though it’s only been a few days he estimates his magic capacity has increased by somewhere around ten percent. Mentally, he compares it to when someone first starts going to the gym and sees those initial big gains. Considering he was starting from nothing, whatever “muscle” he’s using has definitely gotten a lot more work over the last week.

Still, there’s not enough gas in the tank to completely fix the problem and still have enough left over for the exercising, fatigue removal, and recovery buffs he plans on giving out. Once he feels like he’s spent about a third of his total magic he eases back.

With the knee and ankles shored up, Cure sends a last general “remove fatigue” pulse through his hoof, then breaks the connection. “Okay, well, you will hopefully find that your knees and ankles are a whole lot better from here on out. I can’t promise they’ll be back to 100%... that may take a couple more shots, but definitely better.”

“Awesome. I’m gonna end up owing you a lot, aren’t I?”

“Friends don’t count favors, dude.”

With a smile and a nod, Solar holds out a hoof again. Being a total bro and all, Cure gives it a solid bump, returning the nod.
The two then make their way back to the girls with Cure explaining, “Patient confidentiality” to their expectant looks.

“It’s okay, Cure.” Looking at the girls he shrugs and explains, “I just get sore knees and ankles from exercise. No big deal, Cure gave them a little push and hopefully after a few more treatments I’ll be right as rain.”

“Well, it’s your info, so sure,” Cure says, waving a hoof. “So… ladies? No pressure, feel free to say no right now and think it over. You don’t have to decide right this second, just please don’t go telling everypony? I don’t expect oaths from anypony, just that I can trust you with what you've learned today.”

“Go ahead, Cure,” Dawn says, holding a hoof out.

“How about we step over to my “office” so you have at least some modicum of privacy.”

“The tree?” she asks, brow raised.

“I'm a big fan of open floor plans," he says, motioning around then. With a shrug he adds, "I guess it could use a little decorating. I’ll hang a painting or something next week."

With a giggle Dawn follows Cure to the same spot he’d taken Solar.

Dawn’s vision was... not quite terrible, but pretty bad. Definitely bad enough that she should have had glasses. Cure was actually surprised she didn’t have them already, but when questioned about it she didn’t seem to realize how bad her vision actually was. She’d almost leapt on Cure right there when the world came into focus and sharpened to a degree she had no memory of ever seeing. Apparently being able to see really well is super important for unicorn magic, so getting a bump to slightly better than 20/20 is a huge deal to her.

“Sweet Celestia, Cure! This is amazing!” she yelled while looking around. Solar had approached when she wrapped him in a hug just to make sure his sister was okay, but was now sitting back laughing at the colt that she kept bumping against and nuzzling.

“Jeez Dawn, stop markin the poor colt!” he’d yelled, which caused her to turn almost pure crimson. The other girls were sympathetic, but even they were giggling at the embarrassed unicorn.

“It’s okay, Dawn. I know you’re excited. C’mon, we still need to go running at some point.”

Seeing him keep his promise to act mature and not talk about what he found, the other three had no objection to trusting him.

All four fillies are actually in good shape overall. They each had some minor dental issues that were brewing, all of which he offered to take care of and some minor bruises just from being active children that only committed a little magic towards, figuring they can mostly heal on their own.

“Okay, so the way I see this going down, we’ll do a quick canter to the woods near my house. I went running there with my family yesterday, so I got a feel for the area. We’ll go hard for a kilometer at a time which should take about four to five minutes, then we’ll pause to recover for a minute, then go again.”

At everypony’s nod he continued, “If we start overheating we’ll go for a dip in the pond and, if we still have energy afterwards, we can go again. Solar, since you’re so much taller, if you want to stay ahead of us you can do sprints, then double back, then sprint ahead again.”

“I’m not so sure I’m in shape for that yet, dude. I’ll stick with you all at first.”

“Alright, everypony follow me.”

The exercise had gone fairly well, though Cure had to routinely use his short range aura to buff Dawn. He also had to slow the pace as the other three fillies were not actively channeling magic like he and his parents had been. They still did far better than the young unicorn, so clearly just passive magic still gave earth ponies a rather large edge on physical activity.

Cure keeps his “Get Swol” routine off of himself, no longer needing it to ease fatigue or buff his muscles. Despite the small drain of keeping Dawn moving he is able to keep his usage at about the same level as it felt like he was recharging, only really draining a bit when he had to stop and give everypony else a pick-me-up.

The group ran for nearly a solid hour before Solar and, especially Dawn, looked like they were reaching their mental limit. Cure had estimated they’d covered at least ten kilometers, though he had no way to nail down the exact figure.

Wading into the pond with the others, he stopped and plopped down where the water would completely cover his back with Dawn and Coast on his left and Sapphire and Rising on his right in a semicircle. Solar sat opposite of them a little farther in, though no more submerged due to his taller barrel.

“Well… I’m definitely gonna need to pig out at dinner. Make sure each of you eat a bunch too if you’re going to join me for this often. Your body will need the fuel, trust me.”

“You’re freaking nuts, Cure. How often do you do that?” Sapphire asked, ignoring the other nodding fillies.

“That’s actually the longest I’ve run. My family and I did a bit less yesterday before the rodeo.”

“The farthest you’ve run?!" Solar nearly shouts. "That’s the farthest I’ve run, and I’ve been running all year to get in shape. And my legs feel fine. Still, I feel just kinda... wore out, ya know?" Shaking his head he continues, "You’re straight up ridiculous, Cure. Do you have any idea what the guard would do to have you training soldiers like this?”

“Yes, hence the foalnapping fear.”

“Yeah, that all may be made up, but I could imagine it. Stars, the princess herself would probably give you a title to keep you around. You could be a noble yourself someday. That’s what Knights are, ya know?”

“I didn’t know she ever knights a pony.”

“She doesn’t often, but when ponies do something amazing to contribute to the nation they can get knighted.”

“Eh, something to consider. It’s not like we need super soldier guards right now. Besides, I don’t have enough magic to do anything that big.”

“Just keep using it, Cure. That’ll grow as you do, especially if you’re using a lot,” Solar reassures him.

“How come we can’t use magic?” Rising asks with a pout.

“You can,” Solar explains. “As an earth pony you're using it all the time. That’s why you were able to keep up so much easier than Dawn was. It’ll also depend on your special talent, like Cure's. If your special talent turns out to be related to your name, which it often does, maybe you’ll find it easier to make great music or sing really well.”

“Huh… so that’s how that works,” she mumbles.

“Yep, for us the more we exercise the more we use,” Cure agreed. “Did any of you feel anything when I used it on you?”

“Just what you said, a breeze over my coat,” Coast says. “Anypony else?”

“It felt like our sire’s spell when you scanned us. I didn’t feel anything but maybe a little itch in my knees when ya healed me.”

“I didn’t feel anything in my eyes when you fixed ‘em. I could see it, though, obviously.”

“Yeah, I felt a little tickle feeling in my tooth,” Sapphire adds, “it kinda went down into my jaw a bit too.”

“I didn’t notice anything at all, Cure,” Rising says.

“Okay, good to know. If I do become a doctor I’ll have a better idea of what to tell patients what to expect… that way nopony is surprised when they feel something. Thanks, everypony.”

“Pfft… you’re thanking us?” Sapphire asks, looking incredulous. “I don't think running is very fun, but it felt great to just keep moving like that!”

“Well, I’m glad it wasn’t awful. Exercise can be, especially if you’re not seeing any benefit,” Cure says, only pausing while Solar mutters a “no doubt.” “If everypony else is fine with it, how about we just relax in the water for a bit and then we head into town to check out Lemon’s store before it gets too late.”

With agreements all around everypony starts piddling around in the water. Coast and Dawn head into deeper water to swim around a bit, Sapphire goes and lays on her side in the grass near the shore. Rising and Solar just kind of sit there.

“Hey Solar?”

“Hmm?”

“I’ve been wondering, have you read anything about the whole grabbing field thing we can do with our hooves?”

“Oh the touch telekinesis ponies have? What about it?”

“I was just kind of curious what you know about it. Other than "we grab things" my parents didn't have much to offer.”

“Sorry to disappoint, but same here. Unicorns and pegasi don’t benefit from it much since it gets stronger if the pony is stronger. I think you can train it like your muscles and your magic, but no unicorn ever does since we can just levitate stuff,” he explains, lifting a "bowl" of water out of the lake in his yellow aura before setting it back down.

“Why don’t pegasi?”

“Way less muscle, so it’s nowhere near as strong as yours would be. C’mere,” he says, holding out a hoof. Cure puts his hoof against the older colt’s again. “Okay, I’m going to push your hoof off with mine, grab on and don’t let me.” Cure follows Solar’s instructions and, with almost no effort, is able to keep Solar from pushing him away.

“See? That’s why earth ponies form the front line. A strong earth pony is worth a half dozen unicorns up close. Probably more. You’ll never see a squad of just unicorns anywhere because of that and, again, the strength thing. Keep that in mind if you ever get in a fight, you could accidentally really hurt somepony if you hit them in the head.”

“Jeez… I didn’t realize there was such a difference,” Rising says.

“Me neither,” Cure agrees with a nod. “Just this morning I was talking with my parents about history. I was wondering how in the world earth ponies defended themselves before the unification, especially from pegasi with the whole air superiority thing.”

“They propably either paid or enslaved unicorns, or used nets, javelin, or just killed off their crops so they were too hungry to fight back. A pegasus on the ground was likely dead meat back then.” Solar explained, “and a unicorn that was too tired, hungry, or out of magic was even worse off. There’s a reason that two thirds of the guard are earth ponies.”

“I figured the range advantage or flight mitigated all that.”

“HA! They're expensive to make and maintain, but if you put an earth pony in enchanted armor most unicorns won't have the power to punch through it fast enough to matter. Put a whole squad in it and those unicorns better be throwing big rocks and logs while running, or better, teleporting away. If they even can teleport. That’s not something I can do yet.”

“And that’s not even getting into the endurance thing. I’ve been training all year and these three fillies that are two-thirds my height did better than me.” Looking at Rising he adds, “No offense,” which she just shrugs to. “I don’t know how the unicorns back then survived because magic is exhausting. If ya can’t fight and can’t run and are starving then what do you do?”

“Bargain?” Cure suggests.

“Or surrender. Or avoid open battle, if you can. Either way I’m glad we’re past all that stupidity. If some unicorn ever tries something on ya, a tiny tap to their horn while they’re using it and they’ll be hurtin bad. Just don’t snap it off. That can be fatal.”

“Yeah, the base of it is really close to your brain. It’s actually part of your cranium. That seems like something evolution would have rectified over the years. It can take a hit, granted, but with the positioning I wouldn't recommend risking it. Maybe once unicorn ancestors started using their horns they just did a good enough job avoiding hurting them that it never came up.”

“I guess so, dude. You really are smart for your age. When did they teach you about evolution?”

“They haven’t,” Rising points out, “how the hay do you know this stuff, Cure?”

“I’ve spent a lot of time reading. I’m also learning a lot from my parents. I will probably go to Baltimare to get tested to see if I can be homeschooled sometime in the next few weeks. I’ve really learned a lot just in the last week, so maybe it’s part of my talent too since biology is related to health and all.”

“So unfair…” Solar comments.

“You’re not going to be in school?!” Rising asks loudly, getting the attention of the other girls.

Cure, now somewhat surrounded, explains, “Uhh… I will be for at least the first few weeks but it depends on how well I test how long I’ll stay there, or for what classes maybe. Who knows? I don’t know how the whole homeschooling thing works right now.”

“But… that means we’ll only see you when we go running!” Sapphire whines with big pouty eyes. It is super effective.

Unprepared for the attack, Cure acts on instinct to ward off the sad pony eyes. “Umm… we walked right by my house on the way here. I pointed it out. I’m allowed to do stuff outside it. There’s no reason we can’t do stuff outside of school too, not just run.”

Solar just snickers in the background, completely unhelpful to his fellow colt. Cure looks at him for help, which makes him laugh even harder, especially after he makes a “wha-piiish” whip noise at Cure who scowls back.

The girls, ignorant of the exchange, excitedly clap at all the ideas they trade back and forth about spending time with him outside of school.

Trying to change the subject, Cure asks the group, “Uhh, well I’m all cooled off… we ready to go get some candy?”

“We’ll swing by our place on the way, Cure. It’s close to the shop. I’ll treat tonight since you’re doing me such a huge favor. The least I can do is buy your fillies some candy,” the traitor offers with a shit-eating grin.

With a deadpan look, Cure thanks the older colt. “Such a bro. Thanks dude. I’m super glad my new friend has my back.”

“HA! You bet, little bro,” he says, mussing up Cure’s mane. “C’mon,” he says, wading to the shore.

The trot to the store would have only taken about twenty five minutes, if it weren’t for the detour to Dawn’s and Solar’s house. Cure and their sire, Sergeant Gleaming Haze apparently, recognized each other, but other than a smile and a greeting nod the two didn’t interact. Sadly, that didn’t stop him from enjoying the show. Dawn’s dam, Emerald Aura, had absolutely no reservations about interrogating the colt that her daughter was obviously showing an interest in, despite his age.

“Real estate?”

“Yes ma’am. Residential only, as far as I know. He started around when I was born, but he’s had a lot more success since he and my mom met. Do you work in business, ma’am?”

“No, I work as an assistant at the clinic in town.”

“Oh, nice, you’re both in health care in a way," Cure observes, looking between Dawn's parents. "You see, there’s a very big difference between the type of personality that does good with other ponies compared to the type of personality that’s great at doing paperwork. I’m sure you’ve had to work with doctors that are brilliant from a technical standpoint, but have poor bedside manner, right?”

“Yeah…”

“Well my sire is great at the “bedside manner” part of business, but it’s my mom that excels at the "technical" side like organizing paperwork. That’s how they ended up together," he proudly declares. With a soft smile he explains, "They were such good partners on the job that they decided to become partners in life too. Since then they’ve been very successful. They closed on two houses in just the last two days, for example.”

With a thoughtful look, Emerald agrees, “Huh. I guess that makes sense. And your dam?”

Pointing both hooves at himself he gives a light chuckle. “She took on the “dealing with the annoying colt” job, the more challenging of the three if you ask me,” he adds with a smirk. “Now that my parents are having a lot more success in their business she’ll be the one raising foals. My mom’s got one on the way now and I wouldn’t be surprised if my dam does too before the month’s out.”

Pinking in the ears a bit, Emerald noted, “You’re rather blunt about that, aren’t you?”

With a perplexed look Cure stares up at Emerald, cants his head to the side slightly and asks, “What do you mean? It’d be great to have another little brother or sister. They told me to expect another sibling on the way soon. Is there something I don’t know?” he asks, briefly glancing at everypony with a confused look.

Solar is barely holding back a laugh at his dam’s conflicted look.

“Umm… don’t worry about it, you’re too young to think about such things.”

“Okay, well that’s fine. I’m just happy my sire keeps giving me bits to go get candy and ice cream every evening. I just don’t understand how bringing my dam candy all the time is going to help me get a little sister, but the first night I ran there and back super fast and he said I should really take my time because if the candy gets shaken up too much it won’t work as well.”

“Uhh.”

“Hey are those chocolates over there on the table?” Cure asks, pointing a hoof.

“Yeah…”

“OH!” Turning to face Dawn, Cure claps his hooves a couple times, then wraps her in a big hug. “Congratulations, Sunrise! Are you excited to have a little sister on the way too?” he shouts while gently twisting her back and forth.

Both Solar and Gleaming snort out a laugh at the shade Emerald turns. With a panicky "uhh" the frozen filly is even worse and, from the lack of blush, the only one not in the know is Sapphire, who’s looks at the darkened pair of Coast and Rising and asks, "Dawn's gonna have a little sister?"

Releasing the unicorn he smiles broadly back to her dam. “Well speaking of candy, I still need to get to Lemon Sweet’s store and pick up the night’s delivery. We went for a really long run this afternoon so I hope my parents aren’t upset that I've been gone so long.”

Turning to look at her husband and son Emerald waves a hoof in Cure’s direction and whispers, “Is he messing with me?” slightly too loudly to not be heard. Both stallions simply shrug in response with Gleaming mouthing “dunno” back.

Turning to give Cure a critical eye, she doesn’t immediately spot any deception on the innocent colt’s face.

“Well… you should probably go, then. Dawn?”

Finally coming back to awareness, she looks up and asks, “Yes, dam?”

“Listen to your brother. I want you back before dinner. Here’s some bits, sweetie.”

“Okay!”

With that, Solar, the four fillies, and Cure make their escape.

Once they’re far enough away both Solar and Cure start cracking up. “Dude. That was awesome,” Solar, says, holding his hoof out for a bump.

Not one to leave a pony hanging, Cure taps it while laughing, “I’m pretty sure she didn’t really buy it, but what can you really do? I’m eight after all.”

“I can’t believe you messed with my mom like that, Cure,” Dawn says with a huff. “I know I’m going to get quizzed again when we get home,” she finishes with a sigh.

“What? I’m just an innocent, naïve colt trying to help his poor parents by bringing them the candy they need so he can have a little brother or sister. What’s everypony talking about?” he says with a straight face.

Rising and Coast can’t hold back. Even though they’re blushing they burst out laughing at the load of manure he’s shoveling.

Sapphire just looks back and forth and, finally tired of missing the joke, asks, “I don’t get it. What are you all talking about?”

“We’re talking about how foals are made, Sapphire. I’m guessing nopony has given you the talk yet?” Dawn asks.

“What talk? My dam said every foal is a star that falls into the dam and gives them a baby.”

With a raised eyebrow Dawn looks from Sapphire to the other two girls. “Should… we tell her?”

“I dunno, Dawn… That’s kinda something a parent should tackle, don’t ya think?” Coast asks.

“I’m staying out of this completely. Way too cringey for me. Plus, I’m at that age where I shouldn’t be commenting at all, so good luck with that,” Solar says while distancing himself a little from the fillies.

“Chicken. Smart, though,” Cure agrees. “I can give you the medical explanation if you’d like, Sapphire, but I’ll keep it purely clinical and I don’t want to hear you twisting my words or anything. I’m going to tell you first that you’ll probably be blushing when you hear and will probably feel embarrassed.”

“That’s okay. Tell me!”

“A male and female have different body parts, as I’m sure you’ve noticed." At her "uh huh" he continues, "When a mare goes through estrus a tiny egg forms in her womb. When the male and female engage in a specific intimate act the egg gets fertilized, then stays inside the mare and eventually becomes a foal. Nine months later, roughly, the foal is fully grown and the mare gives birth. The end.”

“Oh. What’s embarrassing about that? And why did my dam say it’s a star?”

"Many ponies act embarrassed when the “intimate act” part is brought up," he explains. "They shouldn’t be, though. It’s an important part of life and something that nopony should be ashamed of."

“You seem… uhh… a little too familiar with how a baby is made, Cure,” Solar notes.

“I’ve been reading nothing but medical books for the last week. I know exactly how a baby is made. Like I said, clinical explanation, even if the egg part's not completely accurate. You’re not gonna make me blush, dude. I can promise you that. I got an entirely too ridiculous explanation from my sire too.”

“Oof. I bet that sucked.”

"Objectively, it was freaking hilarious. He went on this big spiel about the tribes and how some "closets" could be too small and it may take some "coat oil" so you don't break the "door frame" pushing more than just your "head" in so you can reach the "back shelf" where the "maple seed" needs to be "deposited" or whatever."

Solar is shaking his head and chuckling in disbelief at the ridiculous explanation, mumbling "oh my stars" the whole time. The three girls are all glowing while Sapphire just looks on confused again.

"The best part was how my dam, who was present for the whole thing, mind you, full body tackled him to get him to stop. If it wasn't coming from my own sire with my dam right there I woulda died laughing."

"HA! That's awesome. Your sire sounds pretty cool. My talk was all awkward and stammer-y and dad barely finished before he was outta the room."

Dawn, leaning closer to Coast and Rising, asks them something that Cure can't make out. Giving the girls their privacy, Solar and Cure trot a bit away from the four and chat for the rest of the short trip.

Sweet Blossom's Sugar Emporium is a cute little candy store just a little ways from the train station, and Cure is impressed with how much is available for purchase in the storefront area. He can't see into the back much, but it looks like the pair have a decent sized operation going on back there.

The shop reminds Cure of the various candy and fudge stores he'd taken his family to in the touristy areas like Myrtle Beach, Gatlinburg, and Wisconsin Dells. He isn't sure how it can do enough business in a small town to stay open, but there's no denying that it beats the hell out of the store he'd gone to the other night.

I bet, being within a minute trot of the train station, this place gets busy as all get out around the morning and evening commute times. Lemon must do a decent amount of mail-order business to Baltimare too. Then again ponies are some gluttonous beasts with treats. All three of those hogs finished the candy before bed the other night.

Walking in the store, Cure paid no mind to the four fillies that'd been deep in whispered conversation for much of the way. He'd no more than gotten in the door when, alerted by the bell, Lemon poked her head out of the back room. With a big grin she looked over the group, finished whatever she was working on, and came out from behind the counter.

Cure certainly wasn't prepared when she picked him up, wrapped him in a hug, and planted a big smooch right between his ears. "Cure! You finally made it! Oh and look at all these adorable fillies you brought!" Setting him down, she leans close and whispers "do they know?" into his ear.

"Hi Mrs. Sweet. Yeah, they know how I can heal ponies and help 'em stay healthy. I ran into Mrs. Blossom at the park with the fillies a bit ago, by the way. I'm glad to see they're all doing well."

Reading between the lines she smiles brightly and nods, "Yep! All thanks to our little miracle colt! I've got a few things for you and your little sweethearts! And, I'm guessing, you're this one's older brother?" she asks, nodding to Dawn.

"Yep! This is Solar Strike," Cure starts, then points to Dawn, "Dawn Glow's older brother and our chaperone. He's asked to join us for exercises so he can get ready to join the guard in January."

"Ah! Good thinkin, young stallion. Cure'll get ya in shape in no time. So who're these three lovely young fillies? I know I've seen ya all here before but I never got names."

Going from left to right, Cure names each one off. "Delta Coast, Sapphire Sprint, and Rising Pitch. We're going to all start meeting once or twice a week to go for runs or whatever."

All four fillies and Solar exchange greetings with Lemon.

"Gotcha. Well I'm glad you came by. I dunno if Cure told ya, but he and his dam helped us out an awful lot the other day. Cure, honey, go pick out a gift pack for each of ya and if you see anything else you'd like just say the word."

All five make their way to the display case and start looking through for what they'd like. Lemon offers Solar some candies too but he declines, citing his need to shape up.

Making their selections, the five bring everything up to the register. Lemon just waves them away after seeing which items she needs to restock, thanking Cure again before leaning close to whisper, "Yer dam said maybe there were some other services you could offer. Come by some time and I promise you'll never go wanting as long as I'm in business, colt."

With "thank you"s all around and a promise to come back soon from Cure the group departs, stopping at the small tables outside to crack open their packs.

"So Cure," Rising starts, "that seemed like you did more than just some foalsitting to me. This must be thirty bits worth of candy, let alone scooping ya up like that."

"Yeah, what gives?" Sapphire asks, "Did you sit for them like several times?"

"Well, the three of you remember at the park I said Amethyst was sick?"

Solar puts it together first. Leaning down he quietly asks, "Your talent cures illness too, doesn't it?" At Cure's nod he lets out a sigh and mumbles, "Of course it does. Cure, dude… " Unsure what to even say, the unicorn colt trails off speechless.

"Yeah, I know."

"What?" Sapphire asks, looking between the two.

"Cure's talent is ridiculous, Sapphire," Rising explains. "Don't worry about it. Just don't tell a soul, understand?"

"Okay!"

"What's your special talent, Solar?" Coast asks.

Turning, he shows his mark, a large yellow beam shooting down with orange lines pointing away from the impact. "I'm really good with beam attacks, especially ones with a lot of heat. I can actually melt steel if I really push it! Unfortunately that kinda taps me out for a while, though."

After a round of excited exclamations from everypony Cure's curiosity gets the better of him. "Is there an actual firing range you can practice on with a talent like that?"

"Yeah, just a little north out of town, why?"

"Eh… was just curious about something I've read in a book somewhere. I was wondering if it was close enough to your talent that you could do it."

"Well… what were you thinking about? I can try it next time I'm practicing."

Alright, let's see if I can properly butcher this idea to make it believable...

"Okay… so in this story a character finds this thing called a helios ray, okay?" Getting nods all around he continues, "Well he can't figure out what it does and even when he pushes the button on it nothing happens. Eventually he finds a way to power it up and when he hits the button a beam shoots from the sun at what he's aiming at."

"Okay…"

"Well if your talent is heat beams, and your name is Solar Strike, maybe you have the ability to summon a heat beam from the sun to protect ponies from big, dangerous monsters. You did say that our special talents are often related to names."

"Huh. That sounds kinda wild, Cure. I'm pretty sure I can't do that."

"Have ya tried?"

"I can't say that I have."

"Well, just maybe keep it in mind if you wanna try it someday. Who knows, it may work."

"Sure…"

"Wear eye protection and aim far away from everypony, just in case."

"HAH! I'll keep that in mind, dude."

"So, ladies… we have about an hour before dinner and we all need to be home. Any ideas on how we can kill some time?"

"We can go get a flying disc and go to the park. I have one at my house!" Dawn suggests.

"Or," Rising holds up a hoof, "We could play board games or checkers at somepony's house."

"I'm not sure Dawn's dam is gonna let me escape again," Cure points out.

"Yeah, and it's a ten minute trot to any of our houses," Coast says. "I think the disc is the best bet."

"Okay! I'll run home and get it, then meet you at the park so you can avoid another round, Cure."

"I'm gonna go with and probably stay in for the night. Thanks for letting me tag along, everypony. It was nice meeting you all. Cure when would you want to go again?"

"We could go every day if you want. Just make sure you're eating plenty about an hour beforehoof. What time works best for you? Also, my parents are probably coming but they're cool… yanno, for adults at least."

"How about I come over tomorrow after lunch and I can meet 'em, then we'll go from there?"

"Sounds good, later Solar."

"Later little dude. Thanks for everything."

"Hey mom, dam, I'm home!" Cure shouts, closing the door behind him. He spots both of his moms in the living room laying side to side snuggled together reading. "Dad went before dinner? Did you both already eat?"

Title says a quick greeting while Vines explains, "Sorry we didn't wait for you, honey. We didn't know when you'd be home and your sire was leaving soon. You only missed him by a little bit. There's food on the table for you."

"Oh, that's fine. Here," he offers the two the leftover chocolates and caramels from Lemon's gift, "Lemon Sweet gave me and the girls each a gift box for helping out the other day. Go ahead and finish those off, I don't have a big sweet tooth."

Title barely gets a "thanks Cure!" out before she's crammed a hooffull of candy in her mouth. Vines rolls her eyes but helps herself as well.

Cure makes a quick pit stop, washes up, eats his dinner, takes his setting to the sink, and comes back into the living room. Dragging his sire's cushion next to his dam, he hops up and lays against her side. The rain had started and, even though there was a lot of wind, Cure couldn't hear any thunder at all.

"So, did I miss anything exciting today?"

"Not really, honey," Title starts, "but I did miss you at dinner. I followed your recipe but I swear your fish was better. Thanks for letting me have both pieces, by the way."

"Eh, food is always better when somepony else cooks it. I'm sure it was fine. Did everything go okay at the store?"

"Yep. We stocked up a bit extra since we'll be eating more. We should have several fruits and veggies ready in the garden, too," Vines answers.

"Good deal. So I came upon some news today. I'm not sure if it's good or bad. Delta Coast, the filly with the pink mane and same color coat as mine? She says that all the neighbors around us have basically established an unofficial neighborhood watch to keep an eye out for me."

Considering the phrasing and the odd looks he gets, he adds, "Uhh, for my benefit, I mean... to look out for strange ponies snoopin around."

"What?!" both mares shout at once.

"Yep." Nuzzling against his dam he asks, "When we were going to the library do you remember what happened?"

"We bumped into your little friend Heavy Lift and… we told everypony you were going to be a doctor."

"Yep, but the important thing I said, which I'll remind you we agreed to be the official story, is that my talent is "helping ponies get and stay their healthiest" or thereabouts. Also I bragged about healing up my leg in just a day or two. Granted I made up the part about using bandages but that's beside the point."

"Everyone knows you have a "healing" special talent of some kind," Title guesses.

"Yep. And apparently that whole "a noble will snatch him up" thing is either real or enough stories have been made up that everypony thinks it is. At least, every earth pony."

"Oh my…"

"Oh it gets better. Dawn Glow is the unicorn filly, if you recall. Her sire is the medic pony guard that checked over Wind Shear. Her older brother joined in today because he's turning sixteen in January and wants to join the guard. He needs help getting in shape. It took him about thirty seconds before he figured out everything but the "saved scans" and biomancy part of my talent."

"Huh. Can we trust 'em or do we need to "take care" of 'em?" Title asks.

"Uhh…"

"Title! No "taking care" of anypony!"

"Bah! I was only joking!" she insists, until Vines looks back to Cure, then she drags a hoof across her throat with a nod and a wink.

"As much as I appreciate the dedication, he swore an oath he'd only blab if her highness ordered it or it was a life or death situation. I think he's fine, and the girls were present for that entire conversation. The only one I worry about is Sapphire Sprint and that's only because she seems like a ditz. She's the mint colored one."

"What are the names of the others?" Vines asks.

"Rising Pitch is the yellow filly with the chocolate mane, then Dawn, Sapphire, and I already mentioned Delta Coast. Rising's dam made a comment to her about nobles stealing ponies with useful talents when she heard we were meeting to exercise."

"Oh stars…"

Cure can tell his dam isn't taking this well. Crawling forward, he snuggles himself between her forelegs and leans his weight against her chest while nuzzling into the bottom and side of her neck. As she wraps her forelegs around him he quietly shushes her, telling her it's going to be okay.

"Shh, dam. Don't work yourself up so much. If anything this is good news. Now at least we know that the ponies around us are keeping an eye out for strangers. We also have a potential "in" with the guard and I've learned that my talent just seems like a diagnostic spell to unicorns. None of this is bad news and it changes nothing about our plans."

Turning Cure so his tail is tucked against her chest, she lays her head on his back and mane. "I know, sweetie. I just wish we could make sure you're safe and not have all this stress." She lets out a deep sigh and rests on top of him.

"Oh! You scanned a unicorn too, didn't you? Did ya figure anything out from it?" Title asks.

"Ehh... kinda. I didn't actually find anything that helps clear up the picture. Their horns are just made from the same stuff the rest of us are, just specialized for their purpose. I'm not even close to ready to start doing brain experiments, obviously."

"So… it may be that there's an actual part of the brain that… makes magic?"

"More likely controls than makes, but I'm not even sure about that. I've yet to find anything that I can definitely point at and say, "This is the magic bits, right here." I'm hoping that as we grow stronger and I just flat out grow up I'll be able to identify something by comparing before and after scans, but I doubt it."

"Yeah, that sounds a little too straightforward to be right."

"Exactly. If there was a physical piece of us responsible for magical power then you could just transplant that part from other ponies and basically steal their magic. I would basically be a freaking god if it was that easy, just by improving that organ in myself." With a sigh he adds, "Shame... I'm okay with an easy win."

"Hrm. So your theory is that it's possible that something could be in the brain."

"By process of elimination, I would say yes. I am fairly confident I've eliminated any other source. At least, I can point at everything else and at least have an idea of what it does. The brain is a mystery, though... I don't know enough about the brain to start experimenting, nor do I have rats or whatever to experiment on."

"So… what now?"

Cure starts having a hard time thinking. His dam, apparently feeling protective, has started grooming his mane.

"Umm. Keep doing what we're doing? Maybe wait until we hear back from my great grandsire? School starts next week, so I'm planning on spending time with my friends and maybe just using the evening to study extra stuff. I don't think there's any huge rush to do anything at all right now."

"Yeah.. I guess."

"I'm going to start actually working on my tree tomorrow. I have a few ideas and the prototype doesn't need to be perfect, so a step in the right direction is better than standing still. Solar is going to be joining us for our runs."

"Okay…"

With a big yawn Cure murmurs, "Daaaam yer gonna make me fall asleep."

"Mmhmm" Vines hums as Title watches giggling.

"Ugh, anyhow, I'll run with the girls every few days and, who knows, maybe their parents will want to join some. I could see it."

"Yeah, if my filly suddenly toned up with some colt's special talent helping I'd at least come once to see how it works."

"Yep. I'm gonna get discovered within a year or two no matter what. Eventually somepony's going to notice an absurdly healthy town of ponies and come check out how it's happening."

"You think?"

"I'm sure there's a government agency that watches for widespread illnesses. The government liked changing agency names in my memory, but the Department of Health and Human Services… I think they abbreviated it HHS… they had the Centers for Disease Control, Public Health, and so on."

"Whatever department, somepony in the government watches for health trends. I bet you would do great- Ack! Dam!" Cure pauses while Vines gets his ear, to his mom's amusement. "Anyway, as I was saying, you'd probably be great at that."

Snickering, Title nods, "I sussed that out."

"Right, well a small dip won't stand out but if word spreads and the local clinic notes a five or ten percent drop in incoming patients, somepony will want to investigate."

"Five to ten percent seems unlikely…"

"If your neighbor's foal, husband, wife, whoever is sick and you heard a rumor about some colt that lives just outside of town with a healing talent wouldn't you say something? Besides that, somepony will notice the growing group of toned ponies running around the pond."

"Yeah…"

Letting out another yawn, Cure turns his head and lets his dam get his cheek and neck. Just like the morning, the relaxing motion is making it difficult to do anything but fall asleep.

"I need to potty, brush my teeth, and take a bath before you make me pass out."

"Okay, sweetie. Go get cleaned up and ready for bed. We'll snuggle on our bed tonight. Your sire will probably be a while."

"Umm… dad's not gonna come home lookin to score while I'm sleeping two bodies over is he?"

"Cure!"

"HA! No, we wore him out after lunch."

"TITLE!"

"Really, mom?

"You betcha!"

"Ugh. Well, whatever. Not looking forward to dam's hormone scan, but I'll still do my best to stay professional. Even if I'm internally weeping. You… changed the sheets at least, right?"

"Who said we used the bed?"

Cure can feel his dam's blush through his back as she shoots a glare at his mom.

"Yanno, mom… yes or no would be fine. Whatever. As long as I'm not smellin nothin. That's where I draw the line."

Climbing out from under his dam, Cure runs upstairs and gets ready for bed. He is completely unsurprised when he finds his dam followed him up to lend a hoof. An hour later the three are snuggled in the larger bed, falling asleep to the sound of rain outside.

Cure woke up just a couple hours later to find his sire snuggling against his mom. Wedged between the two mares, Cure mumbles a quick "gnite dad" and closes his eyes, falling right back to sleep.

Author's Note

So, yeah... the entire flag bit last chapter was just a goofy joke thing I never assumed anyone would take seriously at all. Deed's fine, yo. I can't promise I never will leave off with a cliffhanger, but generally speaking I will avoid that because I personally don't like them. If I do a cliffhanger it'll be because the chapter is already REALLY long and I'll probably put out the next update pretty soon afterwards. I'd more likely finish the whole sequence and rapid fire them out after leaving an A/N or comment on the chapter before.

The "skips happening" in 25 is pushed back a tad just because I've had to split a few chapters. This and 21 were going to be one, but then it woulda been like 19k which is a lot to chew on at once. I had to do the same thing with 18 and 19... they were originally one and I flat out put that in the note between 15 and 16 for the same reason.

23 and 24 take place on Sunday then we just skip a few days to Thursday in 25 before our Baltimare trip on Saturday in 26. I'm still early on in that, so it may be two chapters, depending on what kinda hijinks Cure gets into, then we'll start really hoppin forward to important meetings, holidays, significant events, random encounters, etc., some of which may take more than one chapter depending on how big a deal it is, some may be really short. No promises.

Thanks for reading & commenting, folks. Hope y'all are enjoying it so far.

Chapter 23: Teamwork

Sunday, September 7th 908 AB

Waking up to a familiar, but unwelcome sound, Cure is quick to roll out of the bed. An embarrassed and slightly darker pink Title is the only one still laying there. "What? I'm gassy, blame the fish."

"... I'm getting the mallet," Cure mutters, trotting off towards the bathroom.

Hopping up to his spot at the table, Cure looks to his sire. "How'd the whole raincoat TK thing work out, pa? I only woke up when you were snuggling into bed, so I didn't see you beforehoof."

"Not bad once I wrapped my head around the right idea. Ya see, son, at first I thought I'd hafta somehow catch the rain itself, which just ain't gonna work. Then I took yer air bubble idea and did that instead. Rain just kinda ran right offa me then. Didn't even get my coat wet. Stars, I was drier when I got home than when I left the bar."

"Cool. I keep saying that the visual is important for this stuff. Imagining a bubble of force around ya is a lot easier than trying to... I dunno, catch maybe? deflect? the individual raindrops."

"Yup!"

"So... win any drinks?"

"Sure did, champ! The heated up stake worked pretty well, but I could only pull it off once 'cause the darn thing cooled off too fast."

"You shouldn't be cheating your friends!" Vines complained, setting a bowl of oats in front of her snickering son. "You're setting a bad example."

Once she turns to walk away Cure gives his dad a wide-eyed pouty look. "Yeah, dad, you're corrupting my innocent, impressionable mind with your evil ways."

Brows shooting up, Deed points an accusing hoof at the colt while shouting, "The whole cheating thing was your idea!"

Title barely holds back a snort as the two bicker back and forth.

With his forelegs folded across his chest, Cure slowly shakes his head in disappointment while explaining, "And as a parent and role model you should have vehemently refused and shown me how to be a better pony.” Waving a scolding hoof at his sire just as his dam walks back in he adds, “For shame!"

Vines, dropping a couple bowls in front of Title and Deed, jabs a hoof at her husband with a "he's right!" and trots back to the kitchen to fetch her own breakfast.

The instant she walks away Deed waves a hoof at his son. "Colt, you best shut that trap 'a yers or imma come over and make an impression of my hoof on yer rear!"

"Daaaam! Dad's threatening me with violence!"

"You little-"

"What?!"

"Nothin, babe. We're just razzin each other a bit," Deed assures the spoon wielding mare.

Title, still giggling, starts digging into her food between snorts.

"Hmm… that better be it," Vines mutters, carrying her bowl to her seat.

Ignoring the occasional glare from his sire, Cure starts eating his breakfast. After a few bites he begins updating the stallion on everything he learned last night.

"Well, son, I realize you won't turn away somepony that asks for help, but I think you need to hold off on adding more ponies "in the know" if you can help it. What time is this older colt coming by?"

"Around one or so. I figured we'd all get the garden seeded and help dam harvest what's out there this morning, then load up the wagon. After lunch we can go for our run, cool off in the pond for a bit, then I'll probably work on my Cure Tree while you're at the market."

"Hmm… you really do plan out every day, don't you?" Title asks.

"Absolutely. The culture from my memories was borderline obsessed with time management. If your shift at work starts at eight you better be at the punch clock between seven fifty-four and eight o'clock. Anything after eight and you're late. Punch in more than a tenth of an hour before and you're too early. Every day has a schedule and if you don't stick to it then things won't get done."

"I think you can kinda relax that a little, sweetie. Most ponies don't even have a clock in their home."

"I know! It's been maddening!" he shouts, throwing his hooves in the air. "It's a good thing I'm only eight because I'd lose my mind if my employees were waltzing in fifteen minutes late to their shift at a job. This whole country runs on island time… ah, that's what we called the relaxed attitude about timeliness."

Title tries to puzzle it out before giving up. "Why island time?"

"Several tropical islands were popular vacation spots. The locals didn't have the same time obsession we did. "Two thirty" could be anywhere from two to three sometimes. They're lucky our beaches mostly sucked." Ears perking, Cure almost shouts, "Oh! We should go to Seaquestria sometime!"

"HAH! Sea-questria?! What the hay is that?!"

Puzzled, Cure looks at his parents, who are clearly waiting for him to explain. "Huh, weird... it may not exist, I guess. So the folks that wrote all those stories did kind of a side story thing about this Storm King monkey-lookin creature. He's from the south and sent some busted-horn unicorn with RBF to Canterlot in an attempt to steal all the alicorn magic. He has some staff of Sanct-somethin that's supposed to suck 'em dry. The story's main protagonist, who is an alicorn by this point, slips away with her friends."

"Needless to say she eventually saves the day, but at one point she travels to Mount Aris and meets the hippogriffs, who had already been driven under the ocean by said Storm King. They call their underwater city or country or whatever Seaquestria. They turn into these half-fish ponies with some magical pearl."

"That's absolutely dumb as Tartarus, son... but there have always been rumors and old wives tales about merponies, underwater cities, and whatnot, so maybe that part is real."

"Meh, somethin to look into. Regardless, the story sounded dumb as all get out. Alanna didn't even like it. I'm so glad she didn't drag Cyndi and I to go see it. Why would hippogriffs name their city a ripoff version of a country full of ponies? When they turn into fish their forelegs have hooves instead of claws but on land they have claws on their front and hooves on their back legs." Shaking his head at the nonsense, Cure looks to his mom and asks, "Are hippogriffs even a real thing?"

"Uhh… sorta. There were some ponies captured by griffons during the last war…"

"Oh. Jeez… lemme guess, rape babies. That's a War Crime right there."

"Yeah, not a pleasant breakfast conversation," Deed sadly agrees.

"I felt the capital letters on that, Cure."

"War Crimes are violations of an agreed upon code of warfare that civilized nations on Earth abide by even at the worst of times... in theory. One I have to be aware of is the use of biological weapons. Generally, war crimes can only be committed by soldiers, so technically if I used a virus against changelings it would probably just be a crime since we're not at war and I'm not a soldier."

"I'm not sure that there's an equivalent to that here, son. Please don't start whipping up viruses either way."

"I don't plan on it." Pausing to adopt a serious expression, Cure looks between his mom and dad. "Please tell me ponies didn't shun those children. I don't think I can begin to describe the amount of disappointment I'll feel if they did."

His sire is the first to answer. "No. Absolutely not. At least, not like you mean. I'm sure they got a lot of curious and pitiful looks but the pegasus community welcomed them and their dams. We're only talkin a dozen or so foals, here. They're all long gone now; their children were ponies again, just a bit bigger and stronger than most pegasi."

"I'm guessing this was a big deal if you're that familiar with the history of it," he points out.

"Son, when the princess got word of what they'd done to those mares she sent the bat ponies in at night and told 'em ta kill every griffon they came across on the way to savin those mares and their foals. The next mornin she raised the sun, then dropped it right on top of 'em, wipin that fort and a decent area around it right off the map herself. Peace talks started by the end of the month."

Genuinely impressed by the decisiveness from the mare, Cure could only nod in approving respect. "Wow... Celly don't play. Yeah I guess that warrants a note in the history books. Well… I guess I'll still need to keep an ear out for any weird monkey-whatever creatures from the south but the hippogriff nation doesn't sound like it's a thing."

"What was that word you said, sweetie? About the unicorn with the broken horn?"

"RBF?" Cure asks. Getting a nod he chuckles, "It stands for "resting bitch face" and basically means her normal plain look is a sour expression... yanno, like they just go through the day angry."

"Huh, weird," Title says. "I've never met a diamond dog before, but I've always heard they were pretty happy-go-lucky. Anyhow, as far as hippogriffs are concerned ponies and griffons do fall in love. There's a… not small exactly, but not large either, community of griffons in several eastern coastal towns including Baltimare. Try not to stare if we see any on Saturday."

"Oh yeah? Ponies must be a lot more accepting than they were depicted in those stories. There was one where the whole town freaked out over a single zebra alchemist. Like… closed shops, hid in their houses…the whole shebang. Then again when they showed a griffon visiting they didn't react like that."

"Why would they act that way towards a zebra of all creatures?" Title asks with a thoroughly confused expression.

Slowly shaking his head, Cure offers the only answer he has. "I have no idea, mom. There was no logical reason given, just fear mongering by a few ponies."

"But… zebras are almost exactly like us... just striped and less colorful. Am I missing something?"

"No, it never made any sense to me either. She's a freaking healer too, sorta. Of course the whole thing ended up being a lesson about not judging ponies based on looks or assumptions or something. Keep in mind, targeted at little kids and written to teach them lessons."

"Son, the more I hear the harder time I have believin half'a what you've seen in this future vision of yours could possibly be true. There's zebras in almost every town in the country. I think there's an older couple a few blocks away."

"Do... they live in like... a normal house?"

Snorting, Title answers first, "No, Cure... they live in a freakin hut and chase away everypony by throwin spears at 'em." Seeing the genuine confusion on the colt's face she shakes her head and explains, "That was a joke, Cure. Sorry, it was in poor taste." With a serious face, she emphasizes, "Do not say stuff like that, it's really discriminatory. Some parts of the zebras' native homeland are a little behind the times, but they have modern cities too. They're not a bunch of backwoods yokels or anything, so don't assume that about them or you'll really offend them."

"Oh... okay. Well, the zebra in the show actually did live in a hut in the woods, so... yeah. That always struck me as super cringey. I don't remember if anyone ever got all offended over it, but it definitely didn't sit right with me, probably because there was a lot of tension amongst humans over cultures, skin colors, religion, etcetera. The tribalist crap we get reminds me of that."

Shaking himself out of thought, Cure reminds them, "Anyhow, as far as the accuracy of the "visions" are concerned, I've repeatedly told you all that I'm not sure how much I know is accurate. I've even pointed out several things that are way different. Still, I've been right about a lot of stuff like magic, haven't I?"

"Yeah… I guess so."

"Well in ninety two years at the Summer Sun Celebration we'll see. That's when Nightmare Moon does something to Celestia, no clue what, and prevents the sun from coming up."

Sensing the topic is done and breakfast is almost finished, Vines gets everypony's attention. "We should really get started on the garden soon, honey. That is, if you want to stick to your schedule," she teasingly adds.

"First, hormone level check, dam. Yours were different again last night, but that may still be related to… recent activity."

"Oh, okay."

Holding his hoof out, Cure raises an eyebrow at his dam. "I'll always ask ya first, dam."

Meeting his hoof with her own, she gives him a bright smile. "You don't need to. Go ahead, sweetheart."

After a quick scan Cure explains, "So your hormone levels are definitely changing. It's not like everything comes with labels, but I see what I think is estrogen levels falling and a few other hormone levels spiking. I'm almost certain you're going into estrus. Unless there's some other reason you can think why hormones would go wild."

"That's it, Cure," Title jumps in, "That's what they taught us in Health at school. She's gonna start ovulating soon."

"Ah, okay, thanks mom. Dad, dam… have you had a discussion about gender or, whether you even want to have a foal now?"

"I think we are, son. We've talked about it and I think we're done holding off."

"Your sire's right. I don't think we care if it's a colt or filly. We'll be happy either way."

"Okay. Well, I'd still like to monitor your hormones with your permission, but I'll also be able to tell you when and how many eggs, assuming there can be more than one, as well as when conception happens."

"Oh, that's wonderful sweetie."
"Sure, sport. It'd be great to know."

"Good deal…" looking around the table, Cure sees everypony is done with their breakfast. "Are we ready to hit the garden?"

A few minutes later everypony meets at the shed where the seeds Vines bought are organized. The family, minus Cure, had already prepped the garden the day before.

"So… I have ideas," Cure starts, ignoring the incredulous looks from his parents, "about how I may be able to improve the crops we're planting."

Giving Title a shoulder bump before she can say something, Vines smiles at her son encouragingly, "We'd love to hear, honey."

Deed wisely remains quiet while Title pouts at her wife.

"So I don't have enough magic myself to modify and "charge" everything we're planting. What I'd like to do is make the changes to the seeds and see if you can plant them and get them started. They should look just like any other plant, just maybe a little darker, so no “biomancer here” sign will be sittin in our back yard or anything. Also, I have a theory from other books I'd like to test."

"That sounds great, honey. What's your theory about?"

"I suspect that ponies, especially family or close lovers, should be able to support each other magically too. It ties back to the concept of Harmony, really. Ponies, and really any creatures, are never stronger than when they have others supporting them."

"Okay, what exactly do you want us to do though? Details, Cure."

"I'm not exactly sure, mom. It'll take some experimenting to see if it works at all. What I'd like to try is to have you and dad harmonize your magic with dam and see if she can draw on the group instead of just her own reserves. In those fantasy stories they called it group casting. It was usually used for rituals or for larger effects."

"Huh. That sounds neat. Did this happen in your stories about here too?"

"Yes. It was kinda their ultimate move, but again… we're not looking for some mega rainbow laser, just faster crop growth. We also lack the number of ponies and the casting focus, so no idea whether this will work at all. If it doesn’t work with husband and wives I don’t see how it could any other way without the extra pieces."

"I'm game, son. Most of the magic ideas you've had worked so let's give it a try."

"Thanks, pa. First give me what we're planting, one kind of plant at a time, please."

With Vines' help the family goes through all of the ground and root crops they had planned on growing. With dozens of seeds at a time Cure holds them between his hooves in his TK field, then channels through his mark to aim his magic and modify them to maximize photosynthesis potential, temperature and pest resilience, growth, water absorption, CO2 capture, flavor, and maximum health benefits for the plant themselves and anypony eating them.

It's quickly apparent that during his initial experiments a week ago that the majority of his magic must have been being used to encourage growth. The act of simply modifying the seeds takes far less out of him than germinating them did before. To the group's amusement he briefly rants about his failure to isolate variables and the need to update his notes.

With a short break between seed types he estimates he'll still be over half capacity by the time they finish. During each break he and Title brainstorm ideas to use their TK to make seeding easier, faster, and less dirty work. The garden is still wet from the previous night’s rain, so some mud is unavoidable.

Earlier experiments failed to reproduce cutting or punching tools, but that was because of the lack of small, precise "edges" to the TK field. Such precision isn't necessary to reproduce a shovel, post digger, or even a rake, though the small prongs aren't doable yet. Instead it's basically a flipped-over shovel, but it still does the job.

The soft dirt doesn’t need to be “cut” so much as simply pushed aside, something that’s easy with the enhanced strength, quadrupedal stance, anchoring TK, and additional weight compared to a human, Cure notes.

The limited size of the TK bubble is a factor, but he estimates Title’s hoof to be slightly over five inches wide. With an additional two to three inches added to each side she moves a decent chunk of dirt with each swipe. The additional strength and endurance make the whole process trivially easy for her. The only issue is that the distance she can project straight out from her hoof is pretty limited.

I woulda bought her dinner a dozen times over to come help dig those fucking bushes out of our front yard. Any one of my parents could probably just wrap a chain or strong rope around one and straight pull it out of the ground, no mattock, shovel, axe, saw, or any other bullshit required.

For planting, Title shows the group how she holds the seed against her frog, pushes a TK "drill" down, then has the "bit" split open like a post digger. She drops the seed in and covers it with the shovel-shaped field, all the while keeping her hoof completely clean with a TK boot or glove. At Cure's suggestion she tries holding multiple seeds and only dropping one, but she clearly needs practice to get it exactly right.

For whatever reason manipulating small, individual items in different ways with the TK field is just a lot more complicated than latching onto one idea, something Cure points out as another thing to work on.

Once everything is planted the four ponies gather in the center of the new garden. "So… how's this gonna work, champ?"

"Dunno if it will, dad. Here's what I want though.” Looking over to Vines he calls out, “Dam?"

"Hmm?"

"Front and center. You're the key here, dam. This is your garden.” Bowing slightly he explains, “You are hereby crowned princess of this small part of the country.” Motioning at her forehead and sides he adds, “Fancy hat and extra appendages will arrive by post later. You will, hopefully, take the magic offered from your mates and focus it through your mark, spreading it all over the garden just like you normally would."

Vines smiles brightly at her son and gives him a quick nuzzle.

Hesitating for a moment, Cure adds, "I want you to think about the ponies that'll eventually eat these. Think about how they'll nourish them and all of us to help everypony grow and be strong and healthy and how happy it will make you to see them enjoying what we’ve planted today."

At Vines' curious nod Cure waves Deed over. "Okay, dad. Right next to dam, please. I want you shoulders and flanks touching. I don't know if touch is necessary, but a little PDA never hurt anypony. Dam, pretend you find him attractive and get right up nexta him," he explains, ignoring the scowl from his sire.

Standing next to Vines, Deed presses his side into her and gives her a nuzzle and a quick peck on her cheek.

"Okay dad… you're a little different from dam. I want you to focus not only on your magic feeding into dam, but also about the happiness we'll experience as a family. Think about a year from now when we'll have two new bundles of joy to love and fawn over."

With a slightly worried look to his son he slowly drawls out a questioning "Ooookaaay…?"

"Trust me, dad. I've got an idea. Just focus, okay?"

With a nod from his sire he waves his mom to Vines' other side.

"Same thing, mom. Instead of the ideas I've shared with them I want you to think about what their love and acceptance into this family means to you. These two saw somepony they loved and knew they could trust and they know you'll stand with them come any challenge. Together you all complete each other, and we're all one team workin together for the best life possible."

"You bet, Cure."

"Okay. Focus on what I told you to. Feel your magic gathering in your body. Speed up that current. Mom and dad, bring that current to your side and let dam draw from it too. Dam, visualize your mates supporting you with their magic just like they support us both financially and emotionally. When you feel the current, latch onto it and redirect it through your mar-"

Cure doesn't manage to finish the thought. He can only assume, as a blue aura washes over him, that his dam put the pieces together on her own.

Opening his eyes he first checks to make sure his parents are okay. Aside from a little shell shock they seem fine. Dam's mane is a bit frazzled, but all three are standing there looking at their work.

Cure’s ecstatic at what he sees on the ground. All of the newly planted crops are already poking a leaf or two out a few inches, clearly benefiting from his dam’s mark and going dozens of times beyond what he could possibly manage by himself. Cure estimates that he's seeing at least a week's worth of growth spread amongst a couple hundred plants.

"Everypony in one piece still?" he calls.

"Cure?” Title calls back, still looking around in a daze. “What in the flaming pits of Tartarus was that?"

"Something we should maybe discuss inside? Before anypony comes to investigate the magical discharge, preferably."

"We still need to harvest everything for the market, honey."

Anxiously looking around, Cure figures it may actually be best to just keep doing what they’re doing. There’s nopony he can see that’s staring or heading their way, so maybe the effect was localized enough that it didn’t trip any alarms. It doesn’t seem to have gone beyond the borders of the garden that his parents are still standing in the middle of.

"Well let's get our story straight at least. Dam, if anypony comes to ask, you were working on the garden and used your special talent to help the plants grow. Your magic surged unexpectedly.”

Knowing his dam won’t lie and, even if she tried, would probably be terrible at it, he suggests some possible explanations. “Maybe it’s because you’ve started working out and felt a bit more invigorated than normal. Maybe it’s because you were thinking about how excited you are to finally have another foal. Who knows? That's all true anyhow, and the truth is best with this kinda thing."

Looking over his slightly dazed parents he asks, "How is everypony, by the way? Tired?"

"Ehh… a little, sport. That felt kinda good actually. I’m not too tired, but some of the wind’s definitely sapped from my sails, I tell ya."

Nodding, Title agrees, "I'm okay. Same thing basically.” Leaning over, she gives her wife a bump with her shoulder. “Vines, babe, you alright?"

"That felt wonderful! Oh sweetie," she calls, walking up to Cure and laying her head in his mane, "thank you for sharing that with us. You'll have to explain everything to us later, but we really need to load the wagon."

"Yeah, okay.” Looking around as far as he can see again, he doesn’t think anypony is headed their way yet. “I don't think anypony noticed that anyhow. Great job, everypony. I think maybe we should hold off on trying that again though. For now, at least. Let's get everything done for your trip to the market later."

Harvesting goes quickly with Vines showing everypony how to use their magic to get plants to give up their produce. They can get it to work eventually, but she’s far faster and better at it due to her talent and mark, and it’s clearly draining the others’ reserves a bit more.

Cure can’t help but note that the simple act of harvesting a vine of cucumbers the way his parents do seems to drain him a lot more than it does them. It’s only after saying something out loud that Title points out the obvious. “Well, duh, Cure… you’re eight and probably less than a third our size. If you had a tenth as much magic as we do I’d be amazed.”

“A tenth? How? You all have never used magic before last week either.”

“Actively. We've never used it actively. You’ve barely used it at all. You already pointed out that Amy got better faster than she should have, probably because her passive magic use took what you did and ran with it. Even if we’ve only been passively using magic, we’ve still been using it. Besides, I know unicorns “grow” a lot in capacity when they go through puberty. We probably did too. You will also.”

Letting out a deep sigh, Cure can only agree that she’s probably right. That doesn’t help to alleviate his frustration at the situation, something she sees on his face. Leaning down, she gently nuzzles the top of his head. “I know the whole dependence thing is grating, honey. Don’t worry about it. With you using your magic like you are, once you grow up I’m sure you’ll be able to do way more than we’ll probably ever be able to.”

With no legitimate reason to keep moping, Cure returns the affection and mentally slaps himself to refocus on the task. Moving on from the topic, the pair once again works together to figure out ways to further exploit their TK field’s capabilities to speed up work.

They find that the simple approach works best for root veggies. First they shove the dirt off the top, then they put a hoof on the vegetable, wrap it in a TK bubble, and rip it up out of the ground. For plants on a vine his dam is the winning ticket.

They don't have any trees to harvest, but he figures a gentle approach probably works there too, rather than kicking the shit out of each one. That just feels rude somehow... like the tree is being mugged. Either way, his TK escalator would be a good alternative, just running the other direction. He makes a mental note to try that some day and can envision himself reaching up, grabbing a branch, and having all the apples fall on him to get caught and do a conga line down his back and a hind leg into a basket.

Cure becomes the designated pack mule, holding the crates on his back, running them to Deed to load on the wagon, getting an empty, and running that back to Vines or Title to refill. Within an hour everything is ready to go and the family, slightly muddy despite TK cheats, retires to the house to clean up and relax before lunch.

After washing off their hooves and cleaning up a bit the family gathers in the living room.

Always the most curious of the three, Title doesn’t hesitate for a moment to question him. "So what exactly did you plan there, Cure? You had something in mind with those pep talks beforehoof."

"In those stories," he starts to the eye rolls off his sire and mom, "the only time I remember them using a group spell or ability was their big attack. They also had the same thing the princesses used to stone Discord, though. That's a powerful casting focus and those were... will be, whatever, six powerful ponies, so the circumstances are different."

"Each of those ponies represents a part of the overall concept of Harmony. I figured if you're going to use a Harmony-granted mark then maybe focusing on an element may help. It either worked or dam just figured it out on her own. Nice job either way."

"And these parts are what, exactly?"

"Values, basically." Pointing a hoof at his sire he explains, "laughter or happiness," his dam next, "kindness," and then back to his mom last, "loyalty. There's also honesty, generosity, and magic. I’m not clear on how you categorize everything; generosity to me is just a specific type of kindness, but I guess technically there is a difference. Loyalty has also always struck me as the most important part, but maybe that's just me."

"Why not join in, son? I think "magic" would be perfect for ya with how interested ya are in it."

"A couple reasons. First, three is typically a magically significant number in a lot of stories. Of course seven is too but there were only six Elements of Harmony, so who knows if that matters with actual magic."

"There's also the physical size difference between us, the age difference, magic capacity difference, and then there’s the whole ape memory thing. I was trying to minimize differences in the group, and I can't in all honesty even tell somepony what the most technically correct age for myself is."

“Can you please do a better job of warning us ahead of time, Cure? I was not expecting that.”

“Uhh… I did? At least, I explained it as best as I could beforehoof. Keep in mind I kept saying we were trying something and I didn’t know if it would work. I figured that if it worked it would just be an aura like I normally see when dam uses her magic, which is almost exactly what happened, really... just scaled up a bit.”

Letting out a deep sigh, Title reluctantly admits he’s right. “Yeah… I guess so. Sorry, Cure, that’s just the kind of thing I’m worried will be noticed.”

“No, I get it. You’re not wrong. I kept a lookout the whole rest of the time we were out there. I… uhh, I’ll come back to that. For now, did you all actually see something when the… I dunno, “spell” isn’t right, but when the whatever-that-was went off?”

“I saw something, sweetie. It was a ripple effect, like we were standing in the middle of a calm pond and somepony dropped a rock at our hooves.”

“Was it blue?” At her nod he does a little hoof-pump. “Nice! That’s the color of your magic. I wonder if you’ll be able to see it more as you become more used to using it. What about you two?”

“I only saw the plants surge out of the ground and you react to whatever it was.”
“Same here, son. Just the crops poppin up.”

“Huh. Maybe dam could perceive more because it all channeled through her mark too. Dunno,” he finishes with a shrug. “While we’re kind of on the topic, I feel like we need to address something… What would the plan be if we were to get word that the guard is on its way out to take us in?”

“HA! What do you think, sport? You plannin on takin em out?” At his son’s considering look Deed could feel his ears fall, “Uhh, son. No. We’re not fighting the guard.” Title and Vines are both shaking their heads no as well

“Eh, we don’t have to fight, just flee. We’re not far from the woods to the south… how far south do those go?”

“They go all the way to the Badlands, but there’s a swamp between here and there. That’s a crazy idea, though, Cure. There’s no way we’d get away if the guard wanted to capture us.”

“I’m pretty sure we could, considering I can alter our colors and appearance, give you all night vision, near infinite endurance, and if need be, make it so you could literally eat anything and get enough nutrients out of it. We’re talking about an absolute last ditch emergency here, though.”

Before any of the parents can even respond, Cure holds up his hooves, “Wait. I thought the Badlands were to the southwest. They’re south of us?”

“Son, the Badlands are to the southwest. More south than west, but still.”

“No, I meant I thought they were to the southwest of the entire country. Are you telling me they’re basically just to the south of us? Are there other major cities between us and them?”

“Uhh… Dodge City, Appleloosa… New Horseleans is down there too...” Deed trails off as he sees his son’s growing frustration.

Throwing his hooves out, Cure pleadingly yells, “C’mon! I keep bringing up changelings being a threat, tell you all where they are, and you don’t even tell me when I’m wrong on something? I even said they were on the other side of Canterlot so we’d be safe. Why didn’t anypony speak up?”

“I’m sorry, sweetie… I’m really bad at geography. I just figured you knew what you were talking about.”

“Well, Canterlot is kind of between us and the Badlands,” Deed explains, before mumbling something Cure can’t make out. Title kind of tilts her head back and forth, making him suspect that his sire's statement is not entirely accurate.

Pointing a hoof at his sire he says, “You mumbled at the end. What was that last part?”

“Umm… I said, if you take the train. All the tracks pass through Canterhorn on the way to the south.”

Relaxing slightly, Cure thinks it over for a moment. “Well… that’s actually probably a bit better. They can fly, but I don’t think they can cover a whole lot of distance before tiring. Then again they got to Canterlot somehow. I just… I don't know. I’d insist on giving you both heat sensors but we don’t even know if that matters.”

“I’d actually like to try those either way, Cure.”

“Oh. Okay. Now?” At his mom’s nod, he walks over and gives her the same treatment he’d given his sire. “Once you get used to having a few we can add more on. I gave myself too many at one point and was getting a bit overloaded. It can make ya jittery and stuff, so start slow, train your brain, add more as desired.”

“Cool! Thanks, Cure!”

“Dam? Wanna give it a try? If you hate it I can flip them right back.”

Looking a little unsure between her son and her mates, Vines hesitantly nods. “I’ll give it a try, sweetie. I’m not sure about all these changes, though.”

“Well, like I said… just say the word and I’ll get rid of ‘em.”

Nuzzling into his dam’s side, Cure activates his mark and adds heat sensors to the same areas as her mates. Stepping away, he gives her a quick test.

“Okay, dam… mom. Close your eyes and just follow my hoof with your heads.” Heating up his hoof a little, he moves it slowly through the air. Both mares easily track him, as does his sire who must have been feeling left out. “Dad… what are you doing?”

“I dunno… testing?”

“... fine, whatever. Dam, mom? Any disorientation, dizziness, anything like that?" Both mares shake their heads no.

Title can't hold back. She gets up and starts walking all over the house with her eyes closed, giggling the whole time. Vines, curious as much about her wife as she is about the new sensations, follows her around, minus the goofy laughter.

"So, son…"

"Hmm?"

"You do realize estrus is hitting here in the next week or two, of course."

"Uh… duh?"

"Have ya considered the other name for what happens to the ladies?"

"I can think of a few names for the process… what are ya getting at, dad?"

"Well, son… just how sensitive are your sensors?"

"I've only had 'em since Friday night and I had to turn them down because I was getting a little overwhelmed. Why?"

"The word I was lookin for is "heat," son. It's an accurate name, ya know?"

"Ah… so, walking around with heat "vision" is going to be kind of awkward isn't it?"

Waving a hoof in a so-so motion, Deed shrugs. "Sorta. Most mares will take medicine to control the scent they put off. I don't think it does anything to reduce the actual temperature of… yanno."

Slowly listing off a few alternative names, Cure offers "The 'ol hot box? The toasty muffin? Fiery pit? Lovin' oven? Sizzlin snatch? The parched passage? How about schlong sauna?"

Deed can't hold back. He starts laughing after the “muffin” and is rolling on his cushion cracking up. A moment after Cure suggests the last one he stops suddenly, sits upright, adopts a stoic look, and stares over Cure’s back.

Not even turning, Cure smiles back at his sire. "Yeah, nice try dad. They're not behind me. I have heat sensors on more than just my face."

Deflating slightly, Deed pouts, complaining, "Aww, yer no fun."

"So yes, I am aware of the fact that I'll be walking around perfectly capable of telling which mares, including my dam, are in heat. It's just part of life, dad. Just wait until we elevate all of our senses to super-equine levels. You'll be able to tell when somepony is lying, for example, if their heart rate speeds up."

"That's useful. Potentially, that is."

Cure can't hold back a big yawn. Ugh, gonna need to recover before the run.

"Yeah, it'll probably be much easier to read micro expressions and smell when ponies start to sweat a little. Of course you can already detect when they're getting hot, which can be another sign of deception… yanno, nervousness raising body temp."

For a minute, neither can come up with anything to say. Eventually Cure breaks the silence.

"I guess we can sort out our “worst case scenario” some other time. I still think we should have a plan, even if it’s “surrender and beg for mercy” though… at least we’ll all be on the same page then.”

With a sigh that turns into another yawn, he meet’s his sire’s eyes. “So… Exactly how much are we telling your grandsire? How close are you and how far do you know you can trust him? Also, what did you already cover in the letter?"

"The only thing that letter will tell him is that we need to meet. I would keep the memory stuff quiet for now, but everything else is fine."

"If we need to, we could disclose the memory part without bringing up the knowledge about this world. Having him not treating me like a typical eight year old may be advantageous."

"True. That doesn't feel like "first meeting" material though. As for how close we are?” Waving a hoof in a so-so motion, Deed continues, “Not terribly. He's my grandsire but he had a dozen other grandfoals and who knows how many more great-grandfoals. Probably thirty or more."

"That doesn't sound close at all, dad. No offense but would he recognize ya if he bumped into you on the street?"

"I… think so? Yeah, probably. Unless his memory is going with age. He’s not that old yet, though… he's barely seventy I think."

At Cure's intense stare Deed couldn't help but fidget. For a solid minute the two ponies sat in near silence, the only sound from the occasional movement of a tail or shifting of Cure's cushion as he looked from his sire to some other part of the house and back.

It is the first time the colt's behavior ever made Deed feel uncomfortable, and the only reason he could come up with is because the colt looked almost disappointed in him.

"That’s… far less than ideal, dad. I was kinda under the impression you two were closer. I guess that’s why I don’t remember ever meeting him before, huh?” With a slight cringe, Deed can only nod in agreement.

It takes another minute of consideration before Cure comes to a conclusion.

“I'm not telling him about the memories, world knowledge, or biomancy until I get to know him better. I'll trust him with the health scan and healing but he needs to earn my trust before it goes any further. Is that going to be okay with you?"

"Sure. That's fine. I get it, but that'll mean we won't be able to find a lawyer as soon. We'll need to save for a little while, possibly."

Once again, Deed felt a slight sense of unease creep through him while Cure mulled something over. Lost in thought, his only reaction to the mares returning was the movement of his ears.

Sensing the atmosphere, Title is the first to ask, "Is something wrong, babe? You kinda got that "I wanna run but am afraid of moving" look goin on." Following Deed's eyes to her son, she asks him instead. "Cure, honey… what's wrong?"

Finally snapping out of it, Cure casually waves a hoof. "Eh, I'm just frustrated with myself. I shoulda asked more questions before we sent the letter to great grandpa. It sounds like he's only biologically family, not actual family if ya know what I mean."

Vines looks questioningly at Deed. As the two get comfortable he gives them a recap of their conversation and his son's decision about how far to trust Brick initially.

"Sweetie, you’re eventually going to have to trust somepony other than just the three of us with at least some of what you can do. I know you’re very worried about what ponies will think, but I don’t see any reason why you can’t be a little more forthcoming with your great grandsire.”

“Yeah, Cure. He may not be as close as you’d like, but he is still your family. I’m sure he wouldn’t do anything bad at all. How else are we going to get an attorney we can trust?”

“By paying one, I guess. I have some ideas on that. Dam, did you talk to Lemon Sweet about something when we were at their house the other day? She pulled me aside when I took the girls to her shop and said something about “other services” that I may be able to do.”

“Oh! Yes, she was complaining about stretch marks she had left over from Cherry and had asked if that was something you could help with.”

“Ah… that seems silly when they’re hidden by her coat, but self-image issues are a thing. I think I may go talk to her tomorrow and see what she has in mind. I got the impression that she wasn’t just talking about a one-time thing, so it may be worth looking into, but I'm really leery about trying something under the table. I just can't shake the feeling it's a bad idea to try. Either way she's a close family friend, so I can see about helping her out.”

Looking to his mom and sire next, he asks, “Can one of you please inquire with a trusted attorney how much they would charge for a simple consult? I know you said lawyers are expensive, but if you’re basing that off of how much it cost just that one time it may be a lot less than you’re expecting. Actually taking legal action or representing somepony is a lot more involved than a sit-down talk. If you happen to know one that may benefit from my “services” then all the better. We may be able to barter instead.”

“That’s a pretty good idea, sport. I can check with a couple tomorrow when I take my lunch and see what they’d charge. There’s no harm in askin, I suppose.”

“Exactly. Just remember, you don’t need to tell them anything specific. Just that you would like a consultation as a client. Oh, and even if we can barter we pay them at least a single bit either way. I assume that works here too.”

“Ah! That’s good thinkin, Cure. As long as we pay it’s privileged, but if you just bartered it may not be.”

“Yeah, it was kind of a cliché thing in my memories. Give them a bit, get a receipt, and anything you say, aside from those exceptions you gave, is protected. I can’t take credit for that one.”

“Dam?”

“Hmm?”

“Did you get the impression Lemon wanted me to talk to her privately or is she fine with Amethyst being there?”

“Amy was there when we were talking, I don’t think she’d mind if you want to just go to their house instead of all the way to her shop.”

“Okay, well that’s low hanging fruit… I’ll go sometime this evening, maybe after dinner when I know she'll be home from work," Cure says while fighting another yawn. "I'm pooped. Anypony else want a nap before lunch?"

With a bright smile Vines leans to her left side, opening a gap big enough for Cure to crawl in between her and his sire. Accepting the invite, he trots behind them and turns around. Squeezing in between them, he snuggles against her side, giving them both an affection nuzzle before settling in. It's only a moment before he's fast asleep, and Vines joins him soon after.

"Aww he musta wore himself out with all the seeds," Title quietly says from over her husband's back. "Or from harvesting… he was struggling with that some." Giving Deed a bump while dismounting his back she asks, "Why'd ya look like a cornered rat when we walked in?"

Shrugging, Deed softly explains, "I dunno, babe. He just kinda looked like I'd let 'em down when I told ‘em about Brick and I not bein that close. I guess he assumed he had somepony else out there he could trust. It's the first time I felt like I'd kinda screwed up when he trusted my decision." Thinking for a moment he adds, "Between that, the idea of the guards swoopin in, and some lingering changeling threat I guess I just kinda worked myself up."

"Eh, he's just bein paranoid," she says, waving dismissively. "It's probably a predator survival thing he's got in the back of his head. You saw the look he gave when he was askin about the guard. He was serious about runnin, and he didn't object to resisting either. It's a different thought process, babe."

Giving her husband a nuzzle, she adds, "Besides, he doesn't seem too upset with ya, I saw him love on ya before he fell asleep. Don't worry."

"I guess you're right. Still, I'm a little nervous about how everything will go. I was so sure grandpa would be the best pony to reach out to. Now the colt's got me wonderin if sayin anything was a mistake."

"It'll be okay, babe. We'll figure it out either way."

With a big yawn, Title rolls to her right until she's on her back, then wiggles back over against him and twists to rest her hind legs on his back. Giving Deed a look, she pats her chest. Not one to turn down an invite, he scoots close, rests his head between her forelegs, and, after a few gentle pets down his mane, is soon asleep.

Author's Note

Kind of a chill fam-time chapter before we get into some heavier stuff in the next two chapters. BTW, I actually sat down and mapped out a calendar. I think it helps a lot to do that if anyone out there is thinking of doing a longer story. I'm sure there's some inconsistencies with earlier dates like Title's pregnancy that could have been prevented had I done so earlier, so I'll have to go fix that at some point. Maybe. If I'm not lazy.

So I've planned the next (roughly) ten chapters over the remainder of the year and four for the first quarter of next. Unless I come up with some wild plan starting in 909 I'll likely switch to smaller, 2-4k word chapters (maybe even less) while we work our way towards Cure's 9th birthday.

Big note - There probably will not be any chapters from approx. 11/14 through the end of November. Between travel, family obligations, etc. I doubt I'll have time to really put the time in to ensure the quality (at least, technical quality) is where I want to be, so don't freak out if I go silent for the 2nd half of next month.

Chapter 25: Catharsis

Something has gone wrong. We don't seem to have an archived copy of that chapter.

Chapter 26: Baltimare

Saturday, September 13th, 908 AB

Launching out of bed with unfathomable amounts of energy, Cure quickly trots to the bathroom to quickly take care of the number one immediate concern.

Sleeping with a horn on was going to take some adjusting. He didn’t impale any pillows or anything, but he definitely noticed the kickstand proppin his head up once or twice when he rolled over on his back.

Since the previous morning Cure had practiced with his horn almost non-stop. It had actually been his mom who had asked why couldn’t just stick it on his head like a normal unicorn’s.

—-------- Previous Morning Flashback —--------

“I told you, I’m not even close to ready to start doing brain stuff. The visual cortex thing is as far as I’m willing to go for the foreseeable future because that’s not really part of the whole personality or memory part of the mind. A friggin horn sits right on top of the frontal lobe. That’s like… where YOU exist, basically.” Waving a hoof over the area, he insists, “I ain’t messin with that, even if there is a barrier between the base and the brain!” much to Vines’ relief.

With an eye roll and a sigh Title explains, “Duh, Cure. Jeez, for how smart you are sometimes… why can’t you just stick the damn horn on the outside of your skull and hook it up like you did your frog?”

Mouth hanging open, Cure struggles to come up with a reason. “Uhhhhhhhh… Okay, you got me there. I had not considered that at all,” he admits. “In my defense, last night I was more interested in putting it somewhere I could disconnect easily. Now that we know it’s not gonna explode or go wild I guess that’s not a concern.”

With a smug smile the pink mare nods and goes back to eating her breakfast.

Following his mom’s advice, Cure creates a faux pouch similar to what he had done with his frog. Since his mane already covers the area, no extra steps are needed to obscure the small bump. It could be seen if he parted his mane just right, but there’s no reason for anypony to do that and he could just shrink it down on demand if needed.

Initially unsure how to go about “growing” the horn efficiently, Cure ponders the problem for a moment. He wants to get the horn built as soon as possible, but the cells that are responsible for growing the horn typically do so very, very slowly and do so outwardly from inside the horn itself.

Maybe it’s a puberty thing? The horn grows with the unicorn until adulthood, then slowly grows out over time? I guess I’ll need some adult scans to be sure. There may be some metaphysical cause too, given the alicorn horn growth in the cartoons makes no sense otherwise.

The optimal solution, in his opinion, is to regrow the horn from his hoof like he had the night before, then slowly regrow the hoof itself, as those cells basically do nothing but produce the keratin structure and have far more surface area to work with.

With a muttered “there we go” he holds up the regrown hoof-horn, which seems to take less magic, probably due to already doing it once and not needing to make a second “pouch” after building the one on his forehead. Inspecting it to ensure everything is right, he gives a final nod to the bemused smiles of his mom and sire and the eye roll from his dam.

He then severs the connection and breaks the last bit holding it in place with an audible snap, detaching it right at the base where he will then reattach it on his head. While the rest of the family is still eating. In front of his dam. Who nearly falls straight off her chair in a panic.

Vines scrambles like a dog on linoleum before her TK field latches to the floor and she rockets to the kitchen to grab the dish towel.

With a detached horn in one hoof and a “bald” sole he looks over, startled by her reaction. “Dam? What’s wrong?” he asks while Deed is sitting across from him, mouth agape, and Title is pounding on the table laughing her head off, clearly realizing what he’d done.

Towel in hoof, Vines does a 180 and shouts “CURE!” while launching herself at the bewildered colt and grabbing his slowly-regrowing hoof to wrap it. After a moment of fussing and inspecting the hoof, during which Title never stops cracking up and Deed continues eating, she finally calms down. With an annoyed scowl she drops the towel on the floor, briefly glares at her wife, and goes back to her breakfast while muttering under her breath.

“Dam? You do realize that I can disconnect nerves in an area, right? We just talked about this.” Getting only a huff in answer he continues, “I mean… with enough warning I could probably make a few changes and literally remove my own head for a minute or two…”

Vines’ yellow mane and tail both shoot straight up and back, defying gravity with startling ease. Like a command from the almighty she decrees, “CURE WAVE! YOU WILL NOT EVER DO ANY SUCH THING! DO YOU HEAR ME MISTER?”

With saucer-sized eyes Cure recoils away from the furious mare, nodding enthusiastically. “Yes, ma’am. Loud ‘n clear, ma’am,” he agrees instantly before mumbling, “Not that I was gonna…”

“How?” Title asks, having recomposed herself during Vines’ shout.

“TITLE!”

“What? I’m just curious,” she scowls back, “I ain’t askin for a demonstration, just for academic purposes.”

Deed, displaying uncharacteristic levels of wisdom, finishes his food and quickly makes his escape.

“Well,” Cure starts, turning to his mom, “remember the spiracles thing I did while running?”

Title hums in agreement, “That would get ya air.”

“Yep, so long as I could get those going and make a small temporary heart-like structure to keep blood flowing I should be fine for a while.”

“Huh…”

With a thoughtful glance up Cure expands upon the idea, “Of course, if I was gonna go for long I’d have to make some kinda kidney, yanno… to keep the blood clean? I don’t think that’s an immediate issue, though… only if somepony was really watchin for days or somethin to make sure I was definitely dead.”

Nodding along, Title can’t find any fault in the logic. “Right, can’t have dirty blood in yer decapitated head.”

“Nope, don’t want that,” Cure agrees.

“I swear, every damned meal…” Vines mutters as she stands and walks away.

Watching her go, Cure turns back to his mom. “Too far?”

“Eh. She’ll come around eventually.”

-------------------- End Flashback --------------------

After washing up Cure trots downstairs to join the rest of the family at breakfast.

Greeting everypony with a quick round of slightly horn-stabby nuzzles, he hops up on his chair and starts digging in.

“So… when are we going?” he asks, practically vibrating in his chair.

Rolling her eyes, his dam explains, “Honey, the zoo doesn’t even open for a couple hours. We’ll leave in an hour or so for the train station.”

“Where’s the fire, sport? Those animals ain’t goin nowhere.”

“Aww come on! I’ve been waiting like a week and a half for this!” he whines, getting a snicker from his mom.

“Aww, is our widdle Wavey poo super excited for the zoo?” Title asks, teasing him with a baby talk tone. “Maybe we can get you a cute widdle bawoon there!”

Scowling at the pink mare, Cure grumbles under his breath. “Shoulda put those eyes in upside down… that’d show ya.”

“What?”

“Nothing, mom! So, how are the new peepers workin out?” Smiling beautifully, Title leaps out of her chair and scoops Cure up, smooching all over his face. “Okay, I get it. Ya hate em. Fine, I’ll put the old ones back,” he deadpans while pressed against her chest.

“Oh Cure, babe, I can’t believe how much better I can see now! And the colors!” Giving the colt one last crushing hug, she sets him back on her seat and sits back down.

Leaning towards Vines, Deed faux-whispers, “She must really like them eyes if she’s willing to stop eating to thank him.”

Watching bemused as Title beans his sire with a blueberry, Cure says, “Just let me know when you’re ready to give one of these,” reaching up, he taps the horn, “a try. I’m tellin ya, I’m lovin finally being able to reach stuff again.”

Scrunching his snout he explains, “Yanno… when my memories all first came back one of the first things I thought was how lucky unicorns are. It just seemed like as an earth pony we kinda got the short end of the stick. We can’t fly, we can’t use a bunch of fancy spells, most of us are farmers or other low-paying laborers or whatever.”

“Now, don’t get me wrong, the horn is super convenient, but I don’t think I’d trade it for everything we get. My understanding is that most unicorns barely use it beyond lifting stuff up anyhow. That said, I plan on fully exploiting both sets of abilities like the filthy cheater I am.”

“That’s good to hear, sweetheart. You should always be happy to be who you are, no matter what.”

“Yer dam’s right, champ. Besides, even if I’ve not known a whole bunch of ‘em, I don’t think I’ve ever seen a single one actually cast a spell ‘cept that light doohickey ya did the other night. How’s the castin comin along anyhow? "

“Pretty freaking good, actually. As always, I’m cheating as much as anypony possibly could. Ya see, the spells are actually kinda tricky to pull off, normally. Ya gotta send the right amount of magic to the horn, with some margin for error that is, but the complicated part is hitting the runes just right and getting them in the correct sequence. The quicker the better too, usually.”

Pausing to make sure everypony was following along, Cure gets understanding nods all around. “The thing is that the more precise the muscle movements, the better at “casting” you are.”

“You can tweak the Tartarus outta the muscles, can’t ya?” his mom asks with a raised brow.

Pointing a hoof he enthusiastically nods, “Like you wouldn’t believe! You know what has really good, precise, insanely fast muscle control?” Shaking her head no, Title shrugs. “Dragonflies! I reproduced the properties of dragonfly wing muscles into the muscles in the horn! I can nail runes in an instant and immediately move from rune to rune with perfect precision every time. The slowest part of the process is me just thinking what the next rune should be.”

“Dragonflies?” Vines asks with furrowed brows. “I would expect a unicorn’s own muscles to do a better job than a bug’s.”

“That’s reasonable to assume. The thing is, like I said before, bugs go through generations so fast that their evolution speed is probably hundreds of times faster than ponies’. They’ve also been around for tens of millions of years longer if life developed here like on Earth. That means the muscles they have are absurdly more refined than ours.”

With an impressed look his sire starts, “So basically, if ya see a spell and have enough magic ta cast it…”

“And I have it memorized,” he finishes, “then I can cast it perfectly every time way faster than normally possible. The real advantage is the range, though. Like I said, no-horn range is about one and a half meters, with the horn it’s more like a dozen meters. Convenient for today since I assume most animals won’t just walk up to me to say hi. I noticed when I made the horn longer that the range went up, but I also had to pump more magic in it, which is a deal breaker for me right now.”

“Uhh… you were going to wear that outside?”

Severing the nerves, disconnecting the horn, and re-covering the patch of mane, he lifts it off his head to demonstrate. “I figured I’d duck into a bathroom and slap it on in there once we got to the zoo. Of course you know what’ll happen then?” he asks, putting the horn back in place.

After a few seconds of the parents all being confused, Vines suggests, “You’ll do your scanning thing?”

Jabbing a hoof in her direction, he nods in agreement. “Yes, but also, we’ll inevitably run into somepony we know. And odds are, they’ll recognize me right away and, of course, do something to draw attention to a horn that does not belong,” he finishes with an annoyed tone. “It’s inevitable with the way this world works, I bet. That’s why Dawn and Solar just happened upon me right when me and Wind were making up. Either way, I’ve got a plan.”

“Oh geez,” Deed mutters.

“So I figure we can go around the zoo like normal, just looking around and kinda mapping everything out, right?” After a “uh huh” from his parents he continues, “So once I know where the high priority stuff I want to hit is, I’ll duck inside a bathroom, put on my horn, which I’m going to reshape to not look like a horn for now, and then disguise myself. Once I’m set I’ll run around and do the scanning thing for about half an hour and duck back in the bathroom to change back and meet back with you all.”

“I don’t see a fake mustache anywhere on ya, son. How are ya plannin on disguising yourself?”

“Coat, facial structure, and voice. I spent a while practicing last night and small changes are cheap and make a big difference.” Pausing, Cure holds up both hooves, “Wait. Mustache? Ponies can actually grow mustaches? How? We have fur on our faces already.”

“Special creams. They make the hair come in the same color as your mane, usually. Slap some on and after a few applications you’ll get a beard or mustache or whatnot. They grow faster at first, then slow down, but you’ll see ponies that have pretty long ones.”

Vines makes a disgusted face at the idea. “Those aren’t sanitary, honey. Don’t ever grow a long beard. It makes you look unkempt.”

“Huh. Weird. I assume there’s a way to stop the growth?” At Deed’s nod Cure just shrugs. “Well, whatever. Humans grew facial hair naturally. At least, men did and some women got a little as they aged. When I saw ponies with beards and mustaches I figured it musta been another thing like hay bacon where the writers just made up crap to “humanize” the ponies.”

Interrupting the colt’s musing, Title asks, “What about your cutie mark? Can you change that?”

“Nope, but I can cover it up with a thin flap of skin and fur easily enough, just like you can put clothes over it. The only thing, which is a little odd, is that I have to “separate” it from myself first. If it’s a living part of me the mark goes through it. I kinda-sorta expected that, though, with marks being a metaphysical thing and all.”

Looking the colt up and down, Deed can only nod in approval. “Huh… planned this out a bit didn’t ya?”

“Sure did. I wouldn’t be surprised if they have some kind of “no magic” rule, though, so hopefully this whole thing won’t be a bust. I don’t think it’s worth risking if they have a detection net set up and patrolling guards.”

“Good, glad to hear you know when to walk, son.”

“Gotta know when to fold ‘em dad. My backup plan is to offer my services with a slightly modified disguise to the zoo. Maybe I can tell them my special talent is to heal animals and ask if they have any that are sick or if I can go around with a worker and do diagnostic tests on them.”

Deed looks up in thought. “I hadn’t considered that…”

“Sweetie, if they like that idea maybe you can do that on the weekends or after school. It’s a short train ride and I’d feel much more comfortable with you doing that than trying to sneak around.”

“Me too, I’m just worried somepony will make the logical assumption that, ya know...”

“If you can heal animals you can heal ponies, right?” Title asks.

“Exactly. I can disguise myself before going to the zoo. I don’t know when I’ll have the magic to disguise both of us like that and still have enough left over to do the job. That won’t help if somepony tries to intercept me coming, going, or actually in the zoo though. We really need to have a discussion here…”

“What’s up, sport?”

“Levels of escalation, dad.” At his confused look Cure explains, “So I mentioned the other night with that guard how I could do things to him. The question is, if I am about to be foalnapped or badly hurt, how hard do you want me to go?”

“Yeesh… I dunno son. Honey, babe… what do you two think?”

“I don’t know. I don’t even like to think about it,” Vines starts. Looking to her son she asks, “Do you have a way to safely make them fall asleep?”

“Maybe I could if I had paid attention and actively scanned somepony falling asleep before now. That woulda been a good idea, huh? Let’s say that “make them sleep” is the first thing I try, but they have too much adrenaline in their system. What do I try next?”

Title perks up and looks to Cure. “You suggested disabling nerves. That sounds awful, but you can fix it after. Why not that?”

“Because I’d have to be the one to fix it. That means that whenever they’re arrested I would either need to be there too or they would have to remain paralyzed unless somepony else can fix it. Also, it may not stop a unicorn’s magic. I guess I could disable their horn muscles but I don’t know if that’ll work when they’re casting or if their magic will push mine away.”

“Okay, so maybe not do that. Unless you can do that, then knock them out at your convenience, then heal them and run away… ugh, that even sounds too complicated to me.”

“What about the venoms and whatnot, champ? Ya got anythin that’ll knock a pony out yet?”

“No, and I could just use endorphine to do that right now. Dosage is the concern there, and again, adrenaline. Maybe there’ll be something at the zoo. I really need to see if there’s a paralyze or knock-out spell so I can both learn it and learn how they work so they don’t work on me, assuming it’s possible.”

For a moment the parents sit there, looking back and forth at each other before Cure finally asks, “Obviously this is a last ditch thing, but I have to ask. Is there a point at which you all would accept that I have to kill somepony?”

Vines looks absolutely horrified. Deed and Title both grimace, but understand that if things have gotten to that point then all bets are off.

“I think the circumstances there are pretty, obvious, Cure.” Not happy with the possibility, but resolved to see her son survive it, Title explains, “I’m sure your dam and sire agree… you do what you gotta do to protect yourself first. We’ll deal with what comes after, after.”

“I’m glad you feel that way. It’ll almost certainly not come up, ever, but the sad fact is that right now, going full lethal is a whole lot easier than knocking somepony out for me. It’s a lot easier and more effective for me to just close somepony’s windpipe then try to get the exact dosage on a sedative right or ensure I’m severing the right nerve or whatever… but that’s an awful way to go.”

“Couldn’t you just open it back up once they pass out?”

“Yeah, but they may wake up pretty soon after. I guess I could always do that to panic ‘em and knock them out and then slowly give them drugs after I let them get some air. I’m not so sure I could manage all that with multiple attackers though. If there’s three or four ponies tryin to grab me I’m probably gonna go full lethal right off the bat and damn the consequences.”

“Four ponies going after one colt probably warrants that, son. Don’t worry, we’ll still love you no matter what ya have to do to keep yerself safe.”

“Alright… it’s not a happy topic, but it’s something I needed to hear. Again, hopefully it’ll never be an issue. Final question though… how hard are we gonna go if, at some point, some noble really did send goons here to drag me off?”

“Son, you listen and you listen good. If somepony comes in this house with malicious intent towards yer moms or yerself you show no mercy, ya hear? A stallion’s home is his castle, and anypony walkin through that door had better expect a fight, cause they’re gonna get one.”

“That works for me, pa. They won’t know what hit ‘em.”

Satisfied that the topic has been addressed, Cure finishes his food and hops down from the table. Floating his bowl, cup, and utensils over to the sink, Cure cleans up after himself before retiring to the living room to continue reading.

After a moment he jumps up and runs back to the table asking, “Hey can we stop by the library in Baltimare afterwards to get some magic books? The selection here is terrible, of course, being a town full of non-unicorns. Mr. Binder didn’t donate his spell book, unfortunately.”

“Sure, son. The library is really nice there, so I’m sure they’ll have plenty more than what’s here.”

“Cool. Dam? What’s your policy on me going into the city on occasion? Adult escort ‘till I’m older?”

“Yes, honey. I don’t want you going into ANY big city by yourself until you’re at least twelve or so… it’ll really depend on where you’re going, exactly. Somewhere near the train station is fine, but I wouldn’t want you wandering into a bad part of town.”

“Sounds good to me. Lemme know when y’all are ready to go.”

The train ride was blissfully short, but the family had to walk a couple kilometers to the zoo, which happened to be just a bit northwest of the city center. Practically vibrating in line, Cure had to really fight to keep his enthusiasm in check while his sire bought tickets and led the way to the main entrance.

Ugh man, why am I so hyped up? Is this a mark thing again or is just my dumb kid brain acting up? Oh well, almost there!

Once past the main entrance, there is a short walk, then a split in the path. Cure pauses mid-step just before reaching the end and, wide-eyed, stares at the huge, brown bear standing right just to his right. With no other foals around, the behemoth locks eyes with Cure, stands up to its towering, two-plus and a half meters height… and waves hello with a smile.

“Huh… so this is not what I expected,” Cure says, looking up at the massive wall of fur and muscle.

“Uhh, what were you expectin, sport?”

“Enclosed areas, animals separated from ponies and other visitors… I dunno, I guess I kinda forgot that the animals here are so much smarter than… ya know.”

“Oh, but sweetie, isn’t this going to be so much better?”

“Oh, yeah, absolutely dam. I just… I dunno, I figured this would be so much more complicated than it’s going to be. It’s a friggin petting zoo, after all.”

“Well duh, Cure. Sorry we didn’t say something beforehoof, I just don’t think any of us realized you had such different expectations.”

“Even though I went through the whole spiel about range and whatnot?”

“Eh, you’ll still need that for some animals, just not everything. Now go say hi, you’re being rude,” his mom says, pushing him towards the bear.

Glancing over his withers, Cure is dumbfounded by the fact that his dam is also giving him an encouraging smile and waving him to the beast that could probably pop his entire body into its mouth.

“Hi, mister bear. Wow you are a big one, aren’t ya?”

“Raarrarwl” the bear nods in agreement while pointing at her chest. Looking at the … name tag? Cure blinks a couple times. Yep, name tag. Of course… reveals that it’s a female bear. Specifically, Ruth the Brown Bear.

Hastily correcting himself, Cure immediately apologizes. “Oh! I’m sorry, Mrs. Ruth. You’re the first bear I’ve ever spoken to, so my bad!”

“Rawawra” she says with a shrug.

Grasping for anything to say, Cure goes with the typical conversation starter for women… family. “Uhh… so your name tag says Missus… is there a Mister bear?”

Nodding enthusiastically, Ruth turns around and… Is that a purse? What the fuck is going on here?!

Turning back around, Ruth is in fact, holding a purse. Which she carefully opens, then removes a wallet from. Gently opening the wallet she pulls out a folded piece of paper. Unfolded and held in front of Cure, the paper is a black and white, grainy picture of her, presumably Mister Bear, and three younger bears. “Huh… that’s a cute family.”

“Rawr!” she agrees, nodding again with a fond smile.

“Hey Mrs. Ruth, I was wondering if I could get a hug and ask a small favor at the same time. Ya see, I wanna be a healer for all my animal friends and to do that I gotta know what a healthy bear looks like in case I ever meet one that isn’t healthy and needs a helping hoof. Is it okay if I use a little magic spell to check you over? It’s just like unicorns use, so it’s totally safe.”

Tilting her head back and forth to mull it over while putting the picture away, Ruth apparently is happy to help. With a big, meaty paw-version of a thumb’s up and a smile, she scoops Cure up and presses him against her enormous chest.

“Wow you sure give good hugs, Mrs. Ruth. Okay, so I’m gonna use my special talent. You may feel something like a breeze on yer coat, but that should be it.”

“Raraw”

Activating his mark, Cure gets a very, very quick scan of momma bear. Spotting a cavity and other minor joint issues, he decides not to make a big deal out of it while surrounded on all sides by pectorals that are about as big as his whole body. With one more blessedly soft squeeze, Ruth sets him down with an expectant look.

“You seem to be in great health, Mrs. Ruth. Just maybe talk to somepony about that fifth tooth back on the top right side. I think you may be gettin a cavity. Oh and maybe some arthritis in that back leg at the knee, but yanno how that is, perils of age and whatnot.”

“Rarawr,” she says while nodding. Smiling one last time, which still throws him off, she gives him a gentle pat on the head, and offers him a goodbye as the next set of visitors start approaching.

Walking back to his parents in a stupor Cure has to force himself not to shake from the adrenaline wearing off. “I was just hugged by a brown bear,” he says in a daze.

“Oh that was so sweet of her,” Vines gushes, “I had no idea they gave out hugs! I wonder if I could get one…” she ponders, looking at the family now chatting with the bear.

Looking to his mom with a single raised brow, all he gets back is a shrug. “What? Was her coat really coarse or something?”

“No… extremely soft, actually. I guess… it was a nice hug, overall. I just can’t believe you’re all just like, “Oh look, a bear. Let’s go hug it!” and I can barely keep my legs from shaking.”

“Ya alright, son?”

“Yeah… just comin down from an adrenaline high. I think I’mma go sit down a second while y’all have yer hugathon or whatever.”

“Alright, sport. There’s some seats right over there.”

Eventually, Cure gets his head back in the game. Looking over the directory, he’s somewhat bummed but not terribly surprised. Other than a few hybrid-type critters like some spider-fly thing there are not really any special or mythological creatures at this zoo. He kinda expected that given those are usually less than agreeable and would probably bring a whole host of security concerns for the otherwise foal-friendly facility.

As the family moves around the zoo Cure had much the same experience with basically every animal he had met. There were “enclosures” but rather than acting as a cage to keep the animals in they were actually closer to living areas that said animals could retreat to for a break from their job of meeting and greeting visitors.

Cure was shocked when he found that some of the zoo residents also spoke. Giraffes, elephants, a rhino, and even a hyena, though its vocabulary was very limited and difficult to understand.

He even got to “play” being wrapped up by an enormous anaconda.

All of the other foals and their parents are clapping for the damned snake while I’m fighting every instinct I have not to turn the thing’s brain into applesauce. Glad you're enjoyin the show, assholes.

The mammals were interesting and Cure found several that had more powerful muscles, bones, and supporting structures. None of those adaptations were “fantastic” though; most animals were stronger, for example, simply because they had more muscle mass or the limb was designed to exert force better. Bones were basically the same all over, just with slightly different compositions with a few exceptions for flying creatures or ones with more flexibility. The rhino and elephant ones seemed to be the toughest of the lot, which makes sense as they're also the heaviest land creatures he's seen.

He also got some good venom samples from the small snake population, as well as the bat hearing he’d been looking forward to cataloging, but it was the Insectarium where he really got to see a variety of new specimens.

The building reminded him of a facility his family had visited once in New Orleans when Kynzie was in high school. Josh had already moved out to live with his dad, so it was just the three of them. Neither she nor her mother cared much for most of the displays, but both went bonkers when they entered the butterfly area. He remembered taking shot after shot on his, at the time, badass new slide-out droid phone which, thankfully, had an SD card slot he could add memory to.

The Insectarium in front of the family had the same “cave” motif going with disguised doors leading guests through terrarium-like display cases with a wide variety of things he previously would have never wanted to be anywhere near.

“Have at it, sport. Just start slow, yanno… just in case,” Deed says, tilting his head towards the Levitation Only, Please sign posted at the Insectarium’s cave entrance.

Pulling his parents off to the side he quietly asks, “Are ya sure? I don’t wanna get arrested or somethin.”

“I don’t think they’ll even consider the possibility that an earth pony is using magic, Cure.”

“Well… I think I’ll go as fast as possible instead so we can get in and out quick, just in case.”

With his mom and sire’s blessing, Cure leads the family into the exhibit, quickly scanning away, starting first with a wide variety of spiders. Jumping, ambush, and web spinning spiders all populate the first several displays and Cure is happy to add a wide variety of venoms, muscle structures, and web capabilities to his library.

Moving on, he’s able to scan a few samples of different types of scorpions, cockroaches, termites, aphids, assassin bugs, ants, moths, and beetles. It’s when he’s reaching the end of the area that he hears a couple new voices approaching against the flow of traffic.

Looking down the path he sees two unicorn mares headed towards the cave exit, both wearing zoo uniforms, with one levitating some kind of device in front of her.

Stopping his scanning immediately, he continues to look at the different insects as nonchalantly as he can. Looking over his withers, he sees the moment his parents notice the incoming workers as well as another small group coming from the other direction. Trapped in the bug cave with a few other families, he decides he’ll need a distraction to avoid potentially getting found out.

“Attention, everypony… please stay where you are. We had a security alarm indicating somepony in this area is using some kinda magic in a restricted area. Please just bear with us a moment while we sort this out.”

Looking at the other families he sees an older pegasus filly that looks like she’s ready to bolt.
She has a gray coat similar to Glacial, though it lacks the glossy shine and color-changing effect on the younger filly that caught his eye. Her mane and tail are a darker, navy blue color that’s actually quite pretty, though. Cure makes special note of her cutie mark; an open, upright wing with a short red, yellow, and blue trail falling behind it.

He vows that someday he’ll make up for what he’s about to do.

Between his chat with Wind Shear and this girl’s behavior he’s starting to wonder if a lot of pegasi have some kind of claustrophobia. Unhappy with being in an enclosed area in the first place, he hears her complaining to her dam. “Why are they harassing us? We can’t even use magic!”

Quickly stealing a bit of fat from his reserves, Cure walks to his parents. Leaning in close he whispers, “We gotta get outta here. Firefly, mom. Wait for it,” getting a raised brow from his dam and sire and a “ah shit” from his mom, he makes his way close to the pegasus family.

Moving the fat under his coat to his front left leg pit where it will be out of view, he gets to work. Even with the area numbed the feeling of creating a pocket or, for lack of a better word, boil, under his skin thoroughly disgusts him. What’s worse is, he knows exactly what’s in it, even if it is currently in a state of stasis.

God I don’t know who’s going to have more nightmares about this, me or the poor filly I’m about to traumatize.

The unicorns are standing at the entrance, one muttering, “I don’t know what in Tartarus I picked up, but somethin was goin on in here just a few minutes ago.”

Oh, good. They can only detect external magic use too. Well, duh, I guess, otherwise my whole family would probably be setting off alarms instead of just my scanning.

Once his surprise is ready, Cure mentally tells it to go say hi to the pegasi family, opens the sack to let his minions run down his leg, heals the hole left behind, then quietly walks back to his family. Giving his mom a nod he says, “Get ready,” then turns and points at a nearby enclosure and loudly asks, “Who let all the spiders out of their cage?” causing everypony to freeze.

It’s only a split second later that, beset upon by a collection of typical harmless household jumping spiders, the family and, in particular, the filly, react without bothering to check what exactly was climbing up their legs. With terrified screams they immediately start darting wildly in every direction, causing a panic amongst the other visitors and the staff.

Deed and Title, seeing the opportunity for what it is, both join in the yelling and run for the exit, clearing a path for Cure and Vines by barreling past the stunned staff. Everypony’s prey animal instincts take over from there, with all of the visitors scrambling in every direction, bowling past any guards trying to figure out what is going on, and even causing a couple workers to join in.

Once out of the immediate area, ponies are able to finally stop and realize that nothing is wrong. Recognizing that there was no need to stay around any longer, Cure jerks his head towards the exit and casually trots that direction.

Approaching Ruth, who is looking back towards the commotion, the family exchanges goodbyes with the friendly bear, getting a big smiley wave back, and quickly exits the zoo. Trotting away from the exit, Cure sees a group of four pegasi in armor landing just inside the main gate where the zoo guards are waiting to meet them.

“Well… that was exhilarating,” Cure idly notes. Getting unhappy looks from his dam and sheepish smiles from his sire and mom, he points to a wooded walking trail area just a block to the north. “Let’s go for a walk over in that park,” he suggests, “you can yell at me there and hopefully there won’t be anypony around to overhear.”

Ignoring the angry sounding “good idea” his dam mutters behind him, he takes off in that direction. Finding a bench in a somewhat isolated, open area, Cure hops up and sits down to face the music. Looking around to ensure nopony, or animal, is in earshot, he turns to his dam who’s disappointed look actually hurts his soul a little.

“That is exactly what we were trying to avoid!” his dam starts on all three of them. Looking to her son she asks, “What did you do to that poor filly back there anyhow? She almost flew straight into the ceiling of that cave! Somepony could have gotten hurt!” she finishes.

“Yeah, I’m not real proud of that one. We may have been able to just wait it out, granted, but I don’t know if unicorns could have figured out what was going on. I can show you what I did. It’s really not as bad as you think. It was much more of a “freak her out” move than an actual dangerous one. Well… if you don’t account for the whole herd panic thing everypony did, which was a lot worse than I anticipated. Mom?”

“Yeah?”

“Can you pass me that acorn by yer hoof?”

“Ah… lightning bug time?” she asks, picking it up and hoofing it over.

“Yep.” Popping the acorn in his mouth while explaining, “See, I’ve scanned a decent number of bugs since I fixed the range issue the other day. You’d be surprised how much stuff is just in the walls, under the house, an inch or two underground, etcetera. The scan won’t work through living tissue, but plain old wood, glass, or a few inches of dirt just reduces the targeting aura range.”

Finished mushing up the nut he holds up a hoof while working his magic. Sticking out his tongue causes both his dam and dad to recoil when he has a half dozen different lightning bugs on the end of it. Before either can voice a question a couple have lit up and they all begin flying away.

“Uhh… son?”

“It’s not that big of a deal. Those are just duplicates of a few male and female fireflies that were outside my window last night. They’re normal bugs, just like the ones I did back at the zoo.”

“I didn’t see any acorns on the ground back at that cave, sport.”

“You wouldn’t have. There weren’t any. The acorn was just so I didn’t have to use my own fat reserves. Trust me, you don’t want the details, but suffice to say that I don’t actually need an external source of mass to create something as long as it’s pretty small. What spooked those ponies back there? A few common, household spiders that I whipped up and said “go say hi to those folks” before releasing. No more than a couple grams of fat.”

“You can… control them?” Title asks. “You didn’t say anything about that when you showed me last weekend.”

“I can’t. Not once they’re off of me. I can kind of give them instructions to follow, but nothing too complex… I don’t think. I haven’t experimented with that much, too squicky, yanno? Trust me, that was every bit as unpleasant for me as it was for them.” After a few seconds of thought he adds, “Probably.”

“So you could basically spit a bunch of bees at somepony or something like that?”

With a thoughtful frown, Cure slowly nods his head. “Huh… that’s a pretty awesome idea, mom. Dang I didn’t even think of that.” Scratching at his chin in thought, Cure lets his mind wander while muttering, “Man once I grow up I bet I could like… turn a pile of leaves into a whole swarm of wasps with some kinda sleeping drug and let ‘em loose…” all the while ignoring the growing horror on his parents’ faces.

“You will do NO such thing, mister!” his dam growls, poking him in the side with a hoof.

“Ow! Hey! I didn’t mean just for freakin giggles, dam, I meant as a defense! Remember what we talked about earlier?”

“Oh… okay, well that’s better I guess,” she concedes.

“Jeez… here we go with the whole iron-hoofed overlord thing again… all I wanna do is help ponies and make sure my parents are taken care of and everypony thinks I’m gonna hurt somepony someday,” he pouts while queueing up the waterworks.

Fortunately he’d figured out how to force his tear ducts to activate without relying on depressing movie scenes. This gave him the ability to appear to cry on demand without actually having to deal with the snotty nose, though he still has to give a good, wet sniff to really sell it.

“Good try, son. Nopony’s buyin them fake tears.”

Immediately turning it all off he legitimately pouts this time. “Bah. No fun. Just so you know, dam, I got a good look at that pegasus filly. I don’t know how or when, but I’ll do my best to even the score at some point.”

Vines isn’t completely placated with the promise, but she’s at least somewhat satisfied that her son knows what he did was wrong and wants to try to fix it eventually. Given the alternative where they spent who-knows-how-long answering questions to the zoo staff or even the guard she’s willing to at least move on from the incident. It’s not like it was entirely his fault too, something she’ll certainly bring up with the other parents later.

Oblivious to his mom and sire’s future plight, Cure looks around curiously. “So what now? I’d really like to go to the library and, at some point, check out a store that sells stuff for enchanting, but I know this isn’t just a “Cure” day, so what would my precious parents like to do? Maybe some shopping? I bet they have fancy stores around here.”

“Ha! Poutin didn’t work so he thinks that butterin’ us up-” Deed starts before both mares squee with joy at the idea of visiting some of the fancy boutiques downtown. Seeing that he’s lost the battle before it even started, Deed scowls at the smirking colt and waves a menacing hoof in his direction.

“I’ll make it up to all of ya later, pa. You’ve definitely been good enough to earn a round of Cure Massages before bed.”

Lowering the hoof and thinking for a split second, Deed can only nod in acceptance. “Bribes work great, son. Keep up the good work.”

Swearing up and down that he would be on his absolute best behavior, Cure found himself alone at the library while his moms dragged his sire shopping for clothing, much to the dark stallion’s dismay.

I just can’t wrap my head around it. It’s completely optional. Why in the hell do mares care about clothing? I can see hats, scarfs, leg warmers… maybe even a cloak or something with winter coming up, but why get so freakin excited over it?

Ignoring the puzzle and focusing on his objective, Cure excitedly trots up to the main desk and spots several staff present. All are mares and almost all of them are unicorns, Cure notes, but there are a couple pegasi and one earth pony. Figuring he’d have better luck with her, despite the subject matter, he asks where he can look at books about unicorn magic.

“Oh, that’s over in the non-fiction reference section, young stallion,” the silver mare explains while pointing Cure in the right direction.

Thanking her and trotting that way, Cure finds it clearly labeled. Picking out a few beginner’s guides, he makes his way to the reading section to see what’s available.

Most of the books seem to be very heavy in theory, focusing mainly on the “what is magic” concept and how it’s created, as well as how ponies actually use it. Though some of his pride takes a ding, he quickly discovers that the “humming” analogy he deduced the other day is just common knowledge amongst spellcasters.

I really should have foreseen that. I mean, it’s just common fucking sense to anypony that’s ever used a horn for three seconds, I suppose. Still, I don’t see any references to Harmony in any of these books.

I’m thinking that the existence of higher beings is something that’s not widely published, and with the way everypony panicked at a couple tiny spiders I could see how it may be necessary to keep that kinda stuff on the down-low. Or it’s just in the more advanced books…

Finally hitting the jackpot after a few “interesting read” books, Cure stumbles upon an absolute gem of a spellbook. It covers everything from basic level cantrips to transmutation and conjuration, though the runic sequence for those spells looks daunting. Setting the book in the “must keep” pile, Cure continues on, even though he’s almost bouncing in his seat.

By the time Cure is done with his work he’s become convinced that creating his own spells is simply beyond his ability at this time. He’d found a spell theory book that started explaining the interactions of different runes and what effect each one would have in sequences of other runes but it was all just too different from anything he’d ever seen in either life.

This must be the kind of thing that unicorns actually go to school for. There’s no way some random pony is just going to sit down and strum out a new, functional spell that’s in any way complex unless it just happens to be their special talent.

I wonder if I can, at some point, enhance my ears to the point where I can “hear” the different vibrations unicorns use when they cast a spell. That could be a massive tactical advantage, especially if I can then copy it.

I’ll have to experiment with the bats and see how it stacks up to dog hearing. I’ve always assumed ponies had pretty good hearing with these radar dishes for ears, but I haven’t really noticed anything I couldn’t pick up as a human. Maybe it’s something we lost when our eyes moved forward or whatever.

… huh… It just occurred to me that I am growing tomatoes, am frequently surrounded by girls my age, and, if the super horn hearing thing works, may be able to copy, or at least ID other ponies’ spells. It may be reaching a bit, but there’s also the fact I hang out with Dawn, who’s got an orange coat, and Delta Coast, who has pink hair. Weird. Now if only I knew pony martial arts…

Cure’s search for books about enchanting also went very well. The book he found explained the actual process of imbuing a spell into a crystal and gave the necessary spellwork to confirm if a crystal is capable of holding a spell and the needed power storage.

The spell required to enchant a crystal changes slightly based on the crystal capacity, spell complexity, and a few other variables such as energy requirements and storage size.

It turns out that his “container” analogy he suggested when working on the light spell the other night was basically spot on. The process makes him reminisce about his wife again.

Cyndi had bought Edward a CD burner on his birthday after they had been dating a few months; an awesome nerd present back in ‘96 that he’d absolutely geeked out about and a huge expense for a, at the time, single mother… especially with Christmas just around the corner. Even with the distant memory, Cure still felt a twinge of annoyance at the thought of “correctly setting up IRQs” though it barely registers while he replays the day’s events in his mind.

He is so caught up in the memory, he doesn’t even realize somepony has walked up next to him.

Seeing the limp tail and ears, Vines approaches her son. Once she sees the misty eyes she knows something isn’t right. With a gentle nuzzle she calls out to him. “Cure, sweetie? What’s wrong? Are you okay?”

Rather than answer, he simply turns, rears up, and wraps his dam in a hug before sobbing into her chest.

Looking around, Vines doesn’t spot anything that could have upset him, so she can only assume something had triggered a memory. Holding her colt close, she gently strokes his back and coos “shh, it’s alright” to him until he calms down. Fetching a few tissues from her bag, she wipes down his face and her chest while he explains.

“Sorry, dam. The way this all works,” he starts, waving a hoof towards the enchanting book, “it just reminded me of something. A birthday, just a little before Hearth’s Warming Eve… our first one together. I proposed to her just a couple months later on Hearts and Hooves day.” Choking back a few more tears, Cure just lays limp in his dam’s hold.

“It’s okay, baby. Just take your time. I’ve got you,” she reassures him, holding him close. Finally, after a couple minutes of closeness he breaks the hug with a loving nuzzle, wipes her coat and his face, and excuses himself to the bathroom to clean himself up a bit better.

Upon returning several minutes later, Cure asks, “So where’s mom and dad? Still shoppin?”

“No, they’re here. They wanted to look around, too, honey. I had asked one of the mares at the desk if they’d seen you and they sent me this way.”

“Ah. Well, I think mom will want to hear this. Does our library card work here? I’d really like these two books,” he says, holding up the enchanting book and the spellbook.

“Your mom has a card for this library, sweetie. We can see about getting you one while we’re here,” she says, setting the two books on her withers and turning to find her mates.

Cure trots along, staying just by her side and, once the family is regathered, pulls them to a semi-isolated reading area to explain what he’d discovered.

“The way the whole enchanting thing works is, a spell basically opens the crystal up to take input, okay?” Getting nods all around he continues, “Once that happens, a unicorn or, for us, the enchanting device, basically casts the spell into the crystal, then “closes” the crystal to further writing. Crystals can be blanked out and used for other spells, but a miscast during input can cause bad things when the enchantment is activated.”

“Oh… so basically you have to cast the spell perfectly when you’re at that part?” Title asks.

“Preferably, yes. Take that light spell. You saw the difference when it was cast perfectly compared to not. An imperfect cast can work for some spells, but the crystal will record that imperfection, so it’ll use more energy for a weaker or suboptimal effect… or just not work. Or shatter the crystal. I didn’t see an explanation for what degree of failure causes one or the other.”

“I imagine offensive type spells are where that’s the biggest issue since you’re talking about a rapid power discharge. For example, a warming spell can warm an area slowly for an hour. Inefficiency stinks, but no big deal. A fireball releases the same energy in an instant, so a critical failure really can be critical.”

“So… wouldn’t a unicorn normally want to just use the machine so they don’t miscast the spell and break their crystal?” Deed asks.

“There’s not exactly an easy answer other than “it depends.” See, for simple spells machines are great because you can just crank crystals out all day and they’ll be exact duplicates. For more complex spells you would think the answer would be an even more enthusiastic yes because once you cast it once you’re all set.”

“The problem is that the more complicated spells also have a more complicated “write to the crystal” procedure. Anytime a unicorn attempts to enchant a crystal they’re risking a miscast and basically tossing hundreds or, potentially, thousands of bits down the drain if they don’t catch their mistake before activating the crystal. Of course, a mistake while actually casting can be worse, but you can just withdraw power from the spell before it activates if you miss a rune. There's some backlash, but it's nothing you can't deal with.”

“You have the same issue with the machine. The user interface is just awful, probably because there’s not enough demand for a better one to be developed. If you screw up the input you’re running the same risk as the unicorn, and you won’t know until you go to use the crystal. Of course, you’d think that once you get the sequence right once then you’re set and, while you’re not wrong, how much demand is there for already expensive crystals with an even more expensive enchantment?”

“Probably none…” Deed says.

“Exactly, especially when the machine itself has to be more complex to handle the spell and all of its own internal programming or enchanting, whatever you want to call it. If the country were at war or something I could see justifying the expense, but even then the number of high tier crystals available is probably finite, and if you’re using some for the machines that means you have less for the enchantments.”

“Plus somepony has to recharge the crystals too, and there’s a few percent wasted that goes to the crystal’s functions rather than the spell itself, so they’re not perfectly efficient. There’s also a very small cost to activate the crystal. Just a fraction of the spell’s cost, though.”

“Ah… okay, so… what’s the point of the machine then?”

“It’s basically a hobby for most ponies, or a way to cast spells indirectly for us or pegasi. It’s a very niche thing, though. Or it’s good for industrial uses, I suppose, where even if the company may not make much money on each crystal they’re doing enough volume to make up for it. Of course, if ponies only think unicorns can recharge the gems they’re not gonna buy it because then they’ll just end up paying for the recharge.”

“There’s a lot of potential here, especially since some 75% or more of the population could be using these things and they’re not touching them at all. Probably more, actually. I bet even unicorns that never bother learning to cast spells are underutilizing these things. And that’s not even getting into the wilder ideas I have… and I have a lot of ideas. They’ll depend on a lot of variables and I just don’t have the information I need to know where to start.”

God this is overwhelming. An almost untapped market full of possibilities. So much potential exists and these ponies have no clue how much easier their lives could be. Would they even want that, though? They’re so happy, for the most part, to just keep doing what they’re already doing. I could see building up this company with amazing potential and everypony just shrugging and saying “eh, that’s nice, I’m good though.”

“Well… I admit, I’m feeling a little overwhelmed. I could literally talk for hours about different ways to use this. I have no idea where to start, though. Step one would probably be to determine the exact capabilities and limits of the crystals. Does a spell have to be wholly contained in one crystal or can it be split up amongst several smaller ones, for example. I just don’t know.”

“Start small, honey,” Title says, “For now let’s just focus on what we, as a family, can do. This seems like another thing to talk to your great grandsire about, though. He’s a big-shot business pony, so maybe he can take some of your smaller ideas, make money off of them, then you can work your way up from there.”

“Yer mom’s right. That sounds like the way to go. Maybe he can find some ponies that already know a bit about enchantin and you can act as an ideas pony, ya know? Point them in a general direction and let ‘em figure out the ins ‘n outs. Ya can’t do it all yerself, son.”

“Yeah, you’re right. There’s also a legitimate danger of moving too fast. Society should always progress, but a sudden, unexpected leap forward can cause problems. There’s a term for that, too, and in one of the other stories I liked before made a really big deal about a more technologically advanced society uplifting a less advanced one. You have to be really, really careful not to overwhelm ponies.”

“That’s a good point, sweetie. You know a lot of your ideas are a little overwhelming to me, and I know where they’re coming from, at least. Imagine if somepony who isn’t getting the full explanation were to see all these fast, amazing changes. It could be very scary.”

“True. I was thinking that myself. As far as what we can do for us, I’d like to get some cheap and low tier crystals to test ideas with and to make some stuff for you all to use. I’d also like to get some enchanted ink and scrolls for some higher tier one-time use stuff. We’ll need a machine to act as a red herring too.”

Confused, Title asks, “Red what?”

“Ah, another term that doesn’t translate. Basically, a distraction. If we’re producing enchanted stuff we need a horn-free way of doing it.”

“How do you make scrolls?” she asks.

“Crystal infused ink. You write the spell out while channeling magic or, if you’re a unicorn, use a spell to do the same. They’re one time use and they have to be recharged every few weeks, but for an emergency shield or teleport you can have one cast on hoof for a fraction of the price of an expensive crystal.”

“Couldn’t you just keep a big stack of those on you all the time?”

“You could, but you still would need to charge them every few weeks. There’s an upper limit on how many you could feasibly keep on you, especially if you had to use magic for other stuff. Each time you recharge them they degrade a bit too, so after a few months you need to re-do them.”

“If I knew I was going to be in a fight in a few days I would absolutely load up in scrolls beforehoof, though. Just like crystals, they’re not completely free to use, but if you can reduce your spell cost by 90%? Heck yeah. But I’m a filthy cheater, so…” he finishes, shrugging.

“Huh… they still sound really useful,” she comments.

“They are, very much so. Situational, though. Again, re-doing them is time consuming. Crystals are better but way more expensive. There’s not a perfect one-shot-solves-all that I can see.”

“I’m honestly more curious about imbuing crystals into things and spreading the effect around. This book doesn’t cover the how-to, but a nice, toasty bed in the winter? Sign me up. Well I think I’m all set here… anypony need to grab anything before we go?”

They did, in fact, have a few other things to grab and Title took all of them to the counter while Vines sought out somepony to help Cure get set up with a library card. Apparently the different libraries do have a network, so he could have actually requested both books be sent to his local library and just picked them up there.

Each library has a catalog of titles available at nearby metro libraries, though it’s typically a month or two old. Of course, that wouldn’t give him the opportunity to poke through them to determine if he wanted them or not.

Still, if he finds a book in the future he need only note the title and publication date and request it locally… or just take the fifteen minute train ride and save several days of waiting, once he’s older. He can also return the books at either library once he’s done.

Carded up, checked out, and ready to depart, the family decides to find something to eat before heading to their last stop of the day.

Early’s Odds ‘n Ends is not a dedicated enchanting store. Apparently there simply is not enough demand for the hobby, even in a major metropolitan area; likely due to the demographics of Baltimare being more heavily tilted towards earth ponies than the other tribes. Instead, it’s a “miscellaneous” arts and crafts store with small areas for everything from woodworking, metalwork, knitting, and so forth.

Fortunately, it still offers all of the supplies one would need to get started in enchanting, and offers to facilitate special orders for “heavier duty” equipment available from Canterlot’s finest enchanting suppliers and as a point of contact to license proprietary enchantments for commercial use.

The catalog is frighteningly small considering the hundreds of years ponies have had to develop the technology, leading Cure to the assumption that “the good stuff” isn’t made publicly available or that his theories about ponies largely stagnating is accurate. A high crime, given the few competing magic-capable creatures on the planet.

“My soul weeps at the lack of progress in society,” he voices out loud while holding the catalog.

Cure is pulled out of his musings by the clerk, an older beige unicorn, asking him to repeat himself. “What’s that son? Find something interesting there?”

“Nothing, sir. I was just pondering on the fact that this catalog says it’s the leading publisher in industrial enchantment licensing, yet I’m only seeing a hundred or so enchantments offered; many of them redundant and competing…” looking over the enchantment that will drive away termites, and only termites, he finishes, “or so specialized I can’t figure out why anypony would need them.”

Couldn’t you just cast the spell in a building and be done? I guess if you want to hire non-unicorns for that one specific job then maybe… assuming you can’t just find a nice, smart group of spiders to pay. Eh… maybe it’s important in the lumber supply industry… like I friggin know anything about that.

“That sounds like a lot to me, young colt. Coming up with new spells and enchantments ain’t as easy as you’d think. Also, those are all patented, so any free-to-use spell makes it kinda pointless to make new ones unless there’s a reason to. Spell development isn’t a very profitable job. Too little demand.”

“Yeah… I guess so. I don’t suppose you know of anypony with a cutie mark in spell creation specifically, do ya?”

“Don’t reckon I do. If I did I’m bettin they’d work at one of the suppliers in that book there, or with the archmages in the capital.”

Nodding slowly, Cure agrees. “You’re probably right… hey mister?”

“Hmm?”

“I know somepony that thinks he may wanna try to make a few bits. He doesn’t have a lot of magic cause he’s my age, but he seems to be able to cast perfectly, even on spells with a lot of runes. Do ya know any more complicated spells offhoof that he could enchant into something, then resell to make some money?”

Pondering on the question for a moment, the clerk looks thoughtful for a moment before grimacing. “Eh… not really. The light ones are pretty easy, but they’re cheap too. They can crank those out by the dozen with a machine. The more complex stuff just doesn’t have the demand, so it’d just sit on the shelf if I stocked ‘em. Sorry, sonny,” he finishes with a shrug.

Thanking the clerk, Cure sets down the catalog and looks over the selection of inks, crystals, parchments, enchanting machines, and book offerings on the subject. All and all they occupy only about two meters of shelf space and, disappointingly, have a very limited number of crystals above the “cantrip” quality. Fortunately, those are only a couple bits each, so with his parents’ permission Cure grabs a dozen.

Also selected; the absolute cheapest piece of trash enchanting machine for 15 bits, a few bottles of rune ink, some rolls of parchment, a few nice quills, and three “low tier” gems advertised as being capable of holding spells up to “Blink” which, in pony land, is a very short range, line-of-sight quick teleport spell.

With a full basket on his withers he finds his mom and dam looking over the sewing supplies, which strikes him as odd because he has no memory of either of them ever touching anything related to sewing.

“Whatchya lookin at?” he asks.

“Oh! Cure, remember we talked about curtains for yer room?”

“Ah… yeah, why? You actually thinkin of getting some or were you two looking at something else?”

“It was a thought. Yer dam was thinking of making a quilt or something for the foal too… I don’t know anything about this stuff, though.”

“Dam?”

Setting down the bundle of yarn she’d been looking at, Vines looks up to her son. “Hmm?”

“If ya wanted something a bit tougher than normal and as soft as silk, literally, I could probably help you find a supplier.”

“What do you mean, sweetie?”

Looking around, Cure sees that the coast is clear. “Gimme a sec,” he whispers. Setting the basket on the ground, he sits on his haunches and touches his left hoof to his right. After a minute of just sitting there he slowly pulls a single, half-centimeter thick, ten centimeter long strand of silk off his hoof and passes it to his dam.

Taking the strand, Vines holds it up to get a better look with Title joining her in staring at it.

Vines examines it for a few seconds before looking at his hoof with widening eyes. “Uhh, honey is that from … you know?”

“Yep. That’s the good stuff right there. You won’t find anything stronger than that in the store. Or probably, any store anywhere. I can give you one of these,” he says, showing his frog with the spinneret, “in your hoof pretty easily. I’ll admit, it’s kinda weird, but hey, whatever works,” he finishes, shrugging.

“Huh…” Title mutters, pondering. “You could make one heck of a blanket outta that.”

“Yep, and that stuff is insanely strong, too. That thickness right there? You could tie that around a branch and all of us could swing from it and it would hold. Probably several times over, in fact. It may cut yer hoof off with all that weight in a small spot, though, so don’t try that.”

“Why isn’t it sticky?”

“It’s a different kinda webbing. I’ve seen a couple dozen types of spiders, but not all of them are web weavers. Huh… Weaver. Ironic. Anyhow, I would just buy some dyes and whatever equipment ya need and we can supply the silk. You’ll just need to eat a bit extra for the protein and I’ll need to make the changes. There’s a little more than just the skin part since materials need to get there and all.”

“Thanks, sweetie. That sounds like a wonderful idea. Now we just need to find your sire.”

“Really?” he asks, amazed that this, of all things, is something she’s okay with. Mumbling under his breath he walks out of the aisle. “Freak out over a friggin horn but spider parts are just fine ‘n dandy huh. Whatever.”

Deed was actually by the woodworking supplies, looking over anything he thought he may need for the foal on the way. He came up empty, so Cure wasn’t sure if it was just an excuse to go look at tools or if there was actually something he thought they needed.

Finalizing everypony’s selection, the family checks out and makes their way to the train station, done with shopping and visiting the city for the day.

After arriving home everypony takes turns hitting up the facilities while putting everything away.

It is only a few minutes later while Vines is preparing some of the garden produce for dinner that somepony knocks on the door. With his sire helping his dam and Title upstairs Cure opens the door, surprised to find five pegasi on the other side. Cure is happy to see Glacial Breeze, and surprised to see that Wind Shear convinced her sister and, presumably, her dam to come. On the mare’s back is a sleeping smaller filly that Cure assumes is the youngest sister he hasn’t met yet. She looks to only be four or five.

“Hello, everypony,” he happily greets, assuming the white mare with her foal sleeping on her back isn’t here to yell at or murder him. Wind clearly got her colors, as they both have the same golden mane, but Wind has a slightly darker colored off-white coat compared to the nearly pure-white that her dam has.

She takes the awkwardly silent moment to introduce herself. “Cure Wave, right?” At his nod she continues, “I’m Thunder Dance, Wind and Crosswind’s dam. Are your parents home? I’d like to apologize for the other night if they’re available.

He motions into the house saying, “Sure, come on in. My dam and sire are in the kitchen, one sec.”

Trotting over, Cure pokes his head in. “Dam, dad, we have some company,” he says before relaying the details.

Fetching a few guest mats for everypony, Cure quickly rearranges the living room while his parents get to a stopping point. Title comes down the stairs, sees everypony in the living room, and glances back and forth between them and the kitchen a few times before finally deciding to join the family with a huff.

Once introductions are done Thunder Dance explains, “I wanted to apologize for the way everypony acted that night. I feel at least somewhat responsible for my husband’s behavior. I should have stayed calm instead of yelling and demanding an explanation as soon as I landed. Tailwind simply overreacted from there and everything went to Tartarus.”

Giving her oldest daughter a nudge she shoots her an expectant look. Wind takes the hint, following suit, “Yeah, I’m sorry too. Me ‘n Cure bumped into each other the day before yesterday. We talked a bit. It won’t happen again, I promise.”

Cure takes the opportunity to bring some levity to the situation. “Wind, honey? Didn’t you tell your dam about our plans? We just got back from Baltimare after looking for good venues all day. There’s a really nice park near the zoo that would be perfect!” he gleefully explains while clapping his hooves.

Title barks out a laugh before covering her face, Deed doesn’t react at all, and Vines just lets out a sigh.

Wind turns beet red, something that her off-white coat doesn’t hide at all.

Turning to look at his sire, Cure waves a hoof at her explaining, “See in reality she was just following me home ta meet the ‘rents, yanno? Well with her bein a military foal and all she needed to make sure I wasn’t some wuss before she took that step,” sitting up to strike a pose he explains, “but once I showed her I’m a stallion’s stallion we started meeting up for little treats and to make plans for our future together.” Finished with his story he lays back down and waggles his eyebrows at the older filly.

Thunder barks out a deep laugh at her daughter’s color, ignoring the gaping bewildered expression on Crosswind and Glacial. Fortunately the foal must be a heavy sleeper because she never even stirs.

“Oh, stars… you weren’t joking about him, I see,” she says poking at Wind Shear again. Looking to Cure and his parents she explains, “Wind said he’s got a way with words. Crosswind, honey? Glacial? Don’t you both have something to say?”

Both snap out of their daze, then glance at Thunder before it registers what she said. They turn to face Cure and say “I’m sorry” at the same time.

Waving a hoof, Cure says, “Nah you two don’t owe me an apology. I could tell neither of you wanted to be there. I get it, peer pressure is a thing. Don’t waste another second worryin about it, any of you.”

Looking to Thunder he says, “I can understand that you were not happy having to go hunt down your daughters when they were supposed to be somewhere else and, instead, finding one of them being pinned and stood on by some colt you don’t know.”

“I hope you and your husband both realize how escalating the situation like that didn’t do anypony any good. Nopony came out a winner that night,” he solemnly adds. “That being said, we all make mistakes. I accept your apology, ma’am, and hope we can all still be friends.”

“The colt’s right. It happened, nopony got hurt. I say we all move on as long as your husband feels the same way,” Deed agrees.

“That’s fair, and you’re right. Tailwind was absolutely mortified at his behavior, I assure you. He would have come to apologize in pony, but the sarge told him to keep his distance for a while, then he got sent down to Fort Meadow. Sarge told me to stay away too, but after Cure met with Wind he gave me permission to come talk to you all. That was very sweet of you, Cure.”

Looking to the girls she calls for them to get up. “I think that’s all we wanted to say tonight. I think Cure and his parents were just about to eat dinner. We should let them get to it.” Turning back she wishes them all a good evening.

Cure follows them out, asking if Crosswind and Glacial can stay for a moment. With a wave Wind Shear and Thunder Dance both take off, heading for home.

“Hey, I’m glad you two are alright,” Cure starts, “I was really worried you were in trouble or something, but I had no way to reach out to anypony until I bumped into Wind. Literally, almost.”

He can tell that both girls still seem kind of down about everything, so he asks, “What’s wrong? Why are you both upset?”

“We went with them, Cure. How are you not mad at us?” Glacial asks.

“Easily. Did you want to?” Both shake their heads no immediately. “Did you feel like ya had to go because you were told to stay with ‘em and cause they’re older?” Both nod slowly. “Then why would I be mad at ya? I didn’t even get hurt or anything. Come here,” he says, sitting on his haunches and holding his forelegs up.

Both girls step into the hug, relaxing with a foreleg wrapped around their withers. “Jeez, you both really let this upset ya, huh? I guess Wind did too, but you two did nothing wrong. Y’all are acting like somepony got hurt when the only pony that actually had anything bad happen is Drift’s sire. How’s he doing, by the way?”

“He’s okay. He gets to come home on the weekends starting next week. Dam ripped him a new one that night, so you don’t have to worry. He’s really sorry too,” Crosswind explains.

“Alright, you’re both soft and warm with those feathers, so as much as I enjoy the hug yer gonna make me fall asleep if we stay here much longer.”

Breaking off the hug with smiles, both girls seem like they’re feeling a little better.

“Good! That’s much better. So, Glacial… Crystal Pony heritage? Did your parents know?”

Glacial grows visibly excited at the topic, her wings lifting slightly off her back as she explains, “Yep, my dam was amazed anypony my age even knows what a crystal pony is! She talked about how some evil sorcerer banished it away over a thousand years ago. Every so often a crystal pony will just kind of show up somewhere, not sure how they got there. That’s what happened to her great granddam about a sixty years ago.”

“Ah. No wonder the trait is still showing up. I wonder if Crystal Ponies had any special abilities like how unicorns, pegasi, and earth ponies do. Is your dam able to do crystal magic at all? I’d love to use my special talent to see if I can spot anything but I didn’t wanna sound like a weirdo.”

“The same thing you used to find my bruise?” At Cure’s nod Drift asks, “Why would that be weird? It’s your special talent.” After a few seconds of thought she asks, “Wait, how would you tell if she can do different magic like that? I thought you could tell if ponies were sick or hurt.”

“I can, but I can also tell if there’s something wrong or different with a pony compared to what is normal. As far as not asking to use my talent, after the whole “I saw your chest” thing I figured I shouldn’t ask. Honestly that whole thing makes no sense to me since I can literally see your chest right now. I didn’t want you to be uncomfortable around me.”

With blushing ears Drift faces away and mumbles something under her breath.

“Huh?” Cure asks.

Turning back to the colt she admits, “It’s ‘cause you saw under my coat,” with her ears turning almost crimson. Cure imagines the rest of her is glowing too, but her darker purple coat makes it impossible to tell.

“Drift? Look at me.” Slowly she meets his eyes and he explains, “I’ve used my talent on like fifteen ponies already. I’m going to be a doctor someday. In my life I will literally see beneath thousands of ponies’ coats. Is there really anything you should feel embarrassed about? I promise I’ll always be professional when it comes to that stuff anyhow.”

“No… I guess not. Thanks Cure.”

“Sure. You wanna know how I even found out about that? It’s a funny story, sorta. Well, now it is… not so much at the time.” At her nod he starts, “So I had literally just got my cutie mark a few minutes prior and my sire says something about his shoulder. Well I’m like,” with crossed eyes and in a goofy voice he says “Hey pa, lemme get a peek at that thar shoulder, okie dokie? Hyuck!” getting a giggle from both girls. Back in his normal voice he continues, “So I put my hooves on my sire’s shoulder, use my talent, and guess what I get to see…”

At both girls curious shrugs he adopts a horrified, thousand yard stare and slowly says, “I. Saw. Everything.” and does an exaggerated full-bodied shudder from his head all the way down his tail, getting laughs from both girls. “Dad, being the massive goof he is, thought it was hilarious that the first time I used my talent on another pony it showed me that. It was not what I thought a first time special talent experience would be.”

“So don’t worry. You weren't the first pony I used it on, and there’ll be thousands more before too long.” Turning back to Glacial he again asks, “So, my lovely Azure Flame, does your dam have any fancy crystal pony magic that she’s ever found?”

With pinked ears Glacial shakes her head no. “Not that I know of. Should she? Should I?”

“No clue,” he says with a shrug, “it’s been over a thousand years so only the princess would probably know for sure. You should write her a letter. Really, she’d probably be happy to hear from a legitimate crystal pony in her kingdom. I think she was really good friends with the princess of the Crystal Empire if my history is right. I bet she met with yer great, great granddam when she was found. She may even remember her. Who knows, maybe she’ll write back,” he finishes with a shrug.

“Okay. If you do use your talent, can you tell me?”

“Not instantly. It lets me very easily see if somepony is sick or injured, but it’s like I have to sit and analyze and compare results to try to find anything that's just slightly different but not actually harmful. It's like unicorn medical scans."

"If you do write a letter I would ask that you not say anything about me other than “a friend who knew a little history” please. I don’t know if this is a pegasi thing, but I’ve been warned by other earth ponies about nobles searching out foals with useful talents. I don't want some noble thinkin that a commoner earth pony is intruding on what they see as a unicorn's ability.”

“But… the princess would never do anything bad!” Drift yells.

Waving placatingly, Cure agrees with a nod. “Oh, I know. But she probably doesn’t read all her mail herself. She gets so much I bet a lot gets screened by others. That’s why I said maybe she’ll write back. She’s so busy, ya know…”

Nodding in understanding, Glacial says, “I’ve never heard that, but most nobles are unicorns, so…”

“They can’t even get to you. One could just pluck me off the ground though,” Cure explains. Both girls look absolutely horrified at the idea.

Drift’s expression morphs into an angry scowl a few seconds later. “They better not even try!” she growls out, stomping the ground like a bull about to charge while her wings lift slightly in agitation.

“You’re very brave, Drift, but if you ever see something like that remember, get help before you give help. Strength in numbers. And like I told your sister, use your speed. Mobility is a pegasus’ best friend, after all.”

“Oh… yeah. Good points.”

Interrupting their aside, Glacial holds her hoof out. “Go ahead,” she insists. “Just let me know if you can figure something out.”

“Are you sure?” Cure takes her hoof once she nods, activating his talent. “Hmm… I don’t see anything aside from that lovely, unique pigmentation in your coat. That’s the thing with our abilities, though. We’re magical creatures, so some of what we can do is not based on biology. Take my talent, for example,” he explains, “it’s not like I have a special organ in my body that scans ponies and tells me what’s wrong.”

“Of course it may be that a crystal pony is just like the rest of us, just colored a little different. The problem is that there’s so few I bet nopony has really looked into it." Thinking back to earlier he adds, "Maybe you could ask the library staff next time you’re over in Baltimare. There has to be some books on the subject. Sorry if yer disappointed, Glacial.”

“Nah, it’s okay. I might just do that… check with the library. Thanks Cure.”

“Sure, no problem,” he says when his stomach decides to interrupt. With a sheepish look he shrugs and says, “We were just about to eat. Have you both had dinner?”

“Yep, we ate a little before sissy saw you getting off the train. Once she told dam you were back we all came over.” At his raised eyebrow she explains, “We came a few hours ago and you weren’t home. Your dam’s bright mane is easy to see from far away, that’s how sissy spotted you.”

“Meh, that’s true. Between my mom’s pink and purple and dam’s green and yellow, not to mention how dark my sire is, I’m sure we’re easy to spot from several kilometers away. If ya ever see me running around just swoop down and say hey.”

“Okay.”
“Sure thing, Cure.”

“Alright ladies, I’ma go grab some grub. It was really great seeing you both, though, and I’m super glad we can put that whole mess behind us. Come visit sometime and we’ll go get some treats at Lemon Sweet’s candy store. I foalsit for her and her wife, so she’s always tellin me to bring my friends by.”

“We will! Bye, Cure!”
“Later, Cure!”

Waving to the two, he watches as they take off to the east, flying out of sight after just a moment. Trotting back in the house he joins the family, two-thirds of whom waited for his return before digging in.

“Sorry dam, dad…” he says, hopping up on his chair across from his sire. He takes an amused look at his mom on his right while she stuffs her face with abandon. Quickly eating his dinner in silence, he looks over to her again. Unable to stop from smiling at the pink mare, who’s still going to town on some spinach, he asks, “Hey mom, how’s the salad?”

“Isgood.”

“Yeah? Ya think it would be better with some truffles in it?”

Vines snorts and quickly covers her face with a napkin. Deed bites his lip to stay quiet.

“I guess, maybe diced?” Title suggests.

“You guess? I thought you really liked truffles. Weird. Well if you’re interested, I’ve got a riddle you may know the answer to.”

“Hrm?”

“What’s pink, has four hooves, and is known for its eating habits?” he asks with barely concealed laughter. Vines doesn’t react beyond stilling but Deed watches, wide eyed, with a strange combination of terror and amusement.

Stopping mid-bite she slowly sets down her utensils and scowls at the nearly vibrating colt. “Are you… calling me a pig, Cure?”

With an exaggerated gasp he holds his hooves to his chest. “What?! No! Why would you even say such a horrible thing?” he asks, then starts slowly sliding another bowl of food towards her. “Here, mom, have some more oink.”

Title looks at the bowl, then meets Cure’s eyes. “... Oink?” she asks, a single eyebrow hiking upwards.

“Oh, did I get the pronunciation wrong?”

Glaring hot death at the colt, Title says nothing.

“Sorry, I barely speak any of your nativ-”

Launching herself across the corner of the table, Title pounces at him just as he bodily throws himself to the side. “Get back here you lil cretin!” she shouts as Cure dives under the table and runs past his sire, sticking his tongue out at the mare.

Deed wisely moves to get out of his wife’s way with all due haste.

“Momentum’s not yer friend, huh ma?!” Cure shouts over his withers, darting back and forth to keep the table between them. “Oh no! She’s gonna pen me in!” he yells, running into the living room. Backing up near the wall, he looks up to his mom and asks, “Would it help if I said I’m sow-wy?”

Vines just ignores them and continues eating with a sigh. “Every damned meal…”

Chapter 27: Natural Male Enhancement (Possibly NSFW)

Author's Note

Just a heads-up: I don't even know if you'd call it graphic, but there is a somewhat lewd scene at the end of this chapter that's not what I consider SFW. It does not involve Cure at all, of course. Decades of human memories or not, absolutely nothing of that sort will happen with him until he's an adult, and even then will probably be more "fades to black" kind of scenes until he's at an age that doesn't make me uncomfortable, be it 16 or 18, I'm not sure. We're dozens of chapters away from that anyhow.

Will there be actual graphic sex in this fic? I would wager to say yes, at least once or twice. Will it become a main focus? Absolutely not. I may actually just put all of that stuff in a separate story thread and leave this for the story. We'll see.

Chapter 27: Natural Male Enhancement (Possibly NSFW)

Monday, September 15th 908 AB

Cure waves goodbye to most of his classmates. Turning to trot home with Delta Coast, Heavy Lift, and Ferric Shine all in a group, Cure has mixed feelings about the day. School was actually kind of fun, but then again it was the first day, and that’s not a great metric to measure an average school day against.

The teacher, a bright white mare with a royal blue mane named Polished Apple, appears to be friendly enough. He’s not sure why it seems odd to have a legitimate Apple teaching his class, but it still kind of unsettles him.

“Hey Cure,” Ferric calls in a soft voice that doesn’t seem to match her chiseled body, “I’ve seen you all running around the pond, and Dawn says you kinda got them all started. Would you be okay if I joined you sometimes?”

Looking at the toned girl, Cure shrugs and responds, “Sure. The more the merrier. We started as a way to get in shape a few weeks back. You seem really trim and muscular already, so I’m not sure if you’ll benefit as much, but it’s still good endurance exercise.”

Pinking a little at the compliment to her figure, Ferric smiles and turns slightly away before explaining, “That’s actually what I’m hopin for. I just wanna work on my distance more. I’m really wantin to join the guard eventually and they do a lot of runnin.”

“Eh… we’re young enough you’ll be fine if ya keep doin what yer doin now. One of the hammers on yer mark looks like a smithin hammer. You any good workin with metal?”

With a radiant smile, she happily nods. “Yep! My sire is a miner and sometimes when he comes around he brings some metal for me to practice on. He got me a little job over with the smith. It’s just a couple hours a week, but I’m already learnin a lot and it’s real fun.”

“Aww,” Heavy starts to whine, “when am I gonna get my cutie mark? I wanna know what I’m good at too.”

“We both got ours really young, Heavy,” Ferric explains. “Don’t feel bad if it takes a while. Cure ‘n I are definitely unusual in how early ours came.”

“Yeah, dude… my mom didn’t get hers until she was like seventeen, so don’t let it stress ya. Just find something ya like and learn about it a lot, maybe try doing it some. If it’s meant to be you’ll get yer mark.”

Looking back to Ferric, Cure continues, “Well Shine, you may wanna consider being some kinda smith for the guard instead of a regular soldier. Anypony can stand guard, not many can do what you can. I know if I ever need something metal I’ll be coming to you first. That aside,” he says, ignoring the blush on the dark red filly’s ears, “we usually run after dinner. Just head over to my house after ya eat and, once Dawn and Solar Strike show up, we’ll get moving.”

“Hey Coast?” he asks, looking at the filly that’s been quiet so far.

“Hmm?”

“Were you coming tonight too or are you sticking to the normal Wednesday, Saturday routine?”

“I think I’ll go tonight if you’re okay with it. I don’t have anything else to do.”

“Cool. Heavy, you interested?”

“Yeah but I’m always busy watching my sisters. I dunno if I can.”

“If your dam and mom are okay with it they can come too. I’ll carry one, you carry the other. As long as they aren’t gonna fly off on us it’s fine with me.”

“Nah, mom would tan their hides if they did that. I’ll ask when I get home.”

“Good deal. I guess I’ll see you all in a few hours then. Later, everypony.” With a quick round of goodbyes the group splits up to go to their respective homes. Vines is working in the garden, so Cure detours that way to let her know he’s home.

“Hey dam,” he calls from the grass nearest to her, “how’s all the plants doin?”

“Hey Cure baby. Everything is looking fantastic! How was school?”

“Fun, actually. The first day usually is a bit different though. We have a new teacher this year. Apparently Miss Shadow is now Mrs. Shadow and moved west to Foaledo. Our new teacher is an Apple. Polished Apple; white coat, pretty blue mane and tail. She’s got a sparkling apple on a book as a cutie mark. I don’t think I’ve seen her before.”

“Hmm. She must’ve just moved here for the job. Is she nice?” she asks, walking over to give her son a nuzzle.

Returning the greeting, Cure explains, “Yeah, she seems nice enough. It’s just kinda weird, yanno. This is the first time I’ve personally met a pony I can point to and say, “See! I’m definitely in that same world from the show!” It’s an odd feeling.”

“I don’t understand, honey. We’ve talked about the princess plenty and you said she was in those plays.”

“Yeah and if I ever meet her it’ll probably hit me then too. I guess it’s the difference between having real evidence right there in your face versus knowing something in theory.”

“Was this teacher of yours in the plays?”

“Not that I’m aware of, but one of the six girls that the show centers around is an Apple. The Apple clan is specifically mentioned several times and I think they were having a small reunion in the first play when we’re meeting the characters. Still, all the Apples I can think of were some shade of green, yellow, red, or orange for the most part. I don’t remember any white ones. Also, you gotta remember mom, those plays start in about 92 years.”

“Oh yeah. Sorry sweetie.”

“Meh, no problem. How’s the hooves treating ya?”

It absolutely floored Cure that his dam, of all ponies, would be the one okay with having spider spinnerets added to her frogs, but she was so impressed with the strength and quality of the silk she didn’t seem to care about their origin. After she expressed a concern about dirt getting in them he’d added a small retractable, but tough, flap of skin to protect them and form an airtight, waterproof seal.

Holding up a hoof to look at it more closely, Vines seems satisfied with what she finds. “Good. The covering you added does a wonderful job,” she says while showing him. “Thanks again, honey.”

“You bet. Need any help?”

Looking around, Vines doesn’t spot anything she could use a hoof with. “No, not really. I’m actually about done for the day. Go on inside and get cleaned up, I’ll be there in a few minutes and we can work on the spices and your tree some.”

“Sounds good!”

With another quick nuzzle Cure trots inside to take care of the normal post-work-slash-school routine.

A short while later he and his dam have worked to enhance and help grow the spices and herbs in the A-frame planter by the window. In the past few days Cure had come to the realization that modifying a living plant isn’t much more difficult than doing so with a seed. Granted there’s more mass to change, but only changing doesn’t use a whole lot of magic. It’s the enhanced growing speed that drains him most.

With that in mind, once a set of seeds are harvested from his cherry tree and all of the other fruit is removed he begins with what will be the key to the operation; the “brain”.

With his dam taking notes, Cure begins his explanation.

“Alright dam, I want something that’s basically as smart as a bug. The brain, as much as this actually will be one, is just there to process new samples and formulate both vaccines and antiviral markers that’ll tell the immune system what to attack. It will have no actual intelligence, just an automatic response to input.”

“It needs to run off of the same stuff every other plant does. Eventually it’ll need to know how to control the bioluminescent signals, but that’ll be a later step. Once I know the change is done we’ll hafta keep pushing it to reflower with the updated fruits and seeds.”

“Sounds good honey. Would you like my help sharing magic?”

With a happy smile he nuzzles into her side. “I’ll never say no to ya helpin, dam.”

Beaming at her son, Vines gives him a big kiss between his ears. Together they approach the tree, her wrapping him in her forelegs while he reaches out and makes the changes. The family had found that closely bonded ponies could share, or “harmonize” their magic. This is immensely helpful for Cure since, as Title predicted, his juvenile body doesn’t even have a tenth of what each parent can put out.

After several minutes of work Cure can tell that the job is done. A basic brain-like structure no more complex than an earthworm’s is now running up the trunk of the tree. It seems to have ready access to both the water and nutrients the roots can provide and the sugars that are produced from photosynthesis in the leaves.

Right now the brain just seems to be more or less inert, though there is something akin to a nervous system developing.

“Alright dam, I think that’s it. I didn’t wear ya out, did I?”

Giving her son another quick squeeze before letting go, Vines shakes her head saying, “No, honey. I’m perfectly fine. I think your cutie mark must be very efficient because I barely felt anything.”

“I guess so, at least when just making alterations. Hey tonight after our run I wanna show you all a few things, by the way. I got the low level illusion spell working, so I think I can finally share some of my memories with you all if you’re interested. Mom will go nuts, I’m sure. I’ll finally be able to show her some of the stuff I have been talking about this whole time.”

“That would be amazing, honey. You’re right, Title will be practically vibrating with excitement. How about we clean up and get started on dinner?”

Though she was ridiculously hesitant initially, Vines had no choice but to admit that Cure’s help in the kitchen with his horn was very convenient. Cure was pretty sure he’d be able to convince her to try it at some point. Watching Title play with one the other night finally cemented the “this is really happening” idea in her head.

Prior to that, Cure suspects, his dam may have been under the impression that this was something only he could do. Now Title had her own horn, also fashioned after a certain pink princess’ future horn. It was upstairs tucked away in a hidey-hole in their room while she was out of the house.

Deed had also pulled Cure aside and said he was interested in “a few things” at breakfast this morning, so Cure figured he’d find out more later.

A while later the property duo arrive home, ready to pig out. After a quick greeting and the completion of their after-work ritual the whole family gathers for dinner.

“Heya sport, how was yer first day?”

“Good. We have a new teacher, dad. She’s quite the looker too, if ya ask me. Bright white coat, royal blue hair. Polished Apple is her name and if I was a few years older I’d be happy to polish hers. That’s an apple I could really sink my teeth into if ya know what I mean.”

“CURE!” Vines yells as both his mom and dad burst out laughing.

“What? I’m hot for teacher. Am I not allowed to admire a beautiful mare? You could bounce a bit off them buns and hit the friggin ceiling,” he explains, ignoring his sire and mom who are tearing up with laughter.

“She’s probably over twice your age!”

“Yeah but if I wait a few years she’ll be almost exactly twice my age. The math just keeps working out to my advantage from there, dam.” Thinking for a moment he adds, “Frankly it’s not division I’m interested in with her, though. I’d much rather get her help with some multiplication.”

That line damn near ends three lives as Vines looks ready to kill her son, meanwhile Deed and Title seem to be struggling to get air. After a few minutes of glaring at everypony Vines just starts mumbling under her breath, then gives up on regaining control and instead ignores them all and starts eating.

“Ya know you’re really inconsistent with the whole foals thing, dam. One moment you’re wigglin all over the place, the next year grouchin at me for ‘mirin on some babe. How’s a colt supposed to keep track?”

Title is damn near choking, laughing at the colt’s teasing. Deed’s managed to get himself back under control, but is definitely struggling not to bite a piece of lip off to keep from laughing again.

Eventually everypony settles down and digs in. After a few minutes of quiet eating, Cure smirks and idly comments, “Hmm I wonder what kinda ice cream she likes…”

“Colt…” Vines warns.

“What? Everypony can enjoy an occasional vanilla cone, dam. There’s nothing wrong with that.”

“Uh huh…”

Waiting until his mom takes a drink of water he adds, “It’s her technique I’m curious about though.”

That did it for his other two parents. Deed straight up inhales a mouthful of spinach before coughing and blasting it back out across the table while Title shoots water out her nose, something Cure thought was impossible for ponies. Vines just sits there, mouth hanging half open while staring in disbelief.

“Woah, dad. Thanks for the salad order to go. You need some air there, slugger? Mom, ya alright? Good impression of a sprinkler, I think you got both my tree and the herbs with that shot.”

Snorting, even Vines can’t help but start laughing at the craziness her life has become, finally ending with a chuckled out “every meal…”

Cure digs in while giving everypony a few minutes to recover and clean up. By the time his mom and dad are eating again he’s just about done with his food and he’s smirking back at a few less than amused glares. Fortunately they both thought it was funny enough that he didn’t get punished. Again.

Title sat on him for damn near an hour after his teasing the other evening.

“Okay, well I’m glad we could all get a good laugh in. I did want to let everypony know that I have two friends asking to join our run tonight. Well, two new joiners… Dawn will be there, I assume, and Delta Coast said she would join tonight. Heavy and Ferric Shine, but you all know both of them already, right?”

At the round of nods he continues, “Cool. I also mentioned to dam earlier that I’ve got the illusion spell down pat.”

“OOH! VISUAL AIDS! WOO!” Title shouts, pumping a hoof in the air.

“Riiiight, that. Dad, I’d like to set aside some time before that to discuss a thing or two,” looking at his moms he adds “guy stuff, yanno” before finishing with, “and as the final topic I'd like to mention, dam?”

“Hmm?”

“Yer egg is ready. I noticed when ya shared magic with me. Sorry, I didn’t consciously scan you, but you are prepped and ready, which brings us to a question I hadn’t brought before just now, mainly because I didn’t think about it. Do you only want one?”

Silence greeted the question. As everypony processed what he meant, Cure explained, “I am unwilling to do anything with a fertilized egg under normal conditions, but now that I’ve seen the bits up to this point, I could help you produce another egg, or I could clone the one inside you right now. Either way, two-for-one is an option. This offer comes off the table once it’s fertilized.”

“I… uhh… I don’t know. Deed, baby?”

“Do it!” Title shouts.

“Oof. I thought you said you try to keep conversation light during dinner, colt.”

“True, but this is happy news, not a potential argument. I hope?” He adds a lilt while looking between the pair. “I’m sorry, dad. I honestly figured you’d be super excited.”

Rushing to explain, Deed waves his hooves in the air, “No, no! I am, I just didn’t expect it! Honey, if you’re okay with it, so am I. We waited for a long time, now maybe we can kinda catch up?”

“Oh, honey!” Vines yells, tackling her husband in a crushing hug.

“You could wait until I’m not here,” Cure jokes. “I’d be grateful if I at least could do the egg part first too.”

Dismounting the flattened stallion, Vines happily trots to her son, giving her wife a heavy nuzzle and a kiss on the way.

“Hmm… I never thought about it before but there’s no reason two mares couldn’t have a foal together too.”

“HAH!” Title snorts, “I can think of one. Or three depending on how ya wanna break it down.”

“I can turn an acorn into a half dozen living fireflies and grow a functional horn out my hoof, mom. I assure you that is a whole lot more technically complicated than what I’m proposing. Two mares could only ever produce more fillies, though, keep in mind. You only have X chromosomes to work with.”

“Hard pass sweetie. I’m happy with a wife but that’s a bit outside my comfort level,” Vines says as she wraps him in a hug.

“Yeah,” Title agrees, “I just don’t think I have that instinct, if ya know what I mean. I bet Amy’d love the idea though.”

“TMI, mom. If you want to float that with her then be my guest. I don’t think I’m at a point in my relationship with her where I can just walk up and ask if she wants me to give her a schlong. I could see her misunderstanding my meaning and reacting poorly.”

“HAH! Oh my stars… that would be hilariously bad. That can wait until you figure out how to make it detachable like the horn is.”

“True. I’m not sure I’m ready to go down that road yet. If I can figure out aging, which I’m sure I can, then there’s no rush. They’re close enough,” he continues, ignoring Deed’s snort, “that I’d share with ‘em, unless there’s some reason you wouldn’t want me to.”

“None I can think of.”

“Dam?”

“Yes, sweetie?” she asks.

“You’re sure, right? Once these eggs are fertilized I will not harm them. That’s kind of a line in the sand for me under these circumstances. You understand, right?”

“Of course, I’m ready.”

“Oh! Which one, duplicate or new egg?”

“Whichever is easier.”

“Okay. Work with me here. This is a life you will be creating.”

“Always, baby,” she chokes out, burying her face in his mane. The other two parents join in too, wrapping around the pair.

Copying the egg actually takes almost no effort. It’s small enough that he doesn’t need any help at all, and his parents are ecstatic when he announces the job is done.

With his dam’s blessings he does run a bit of magic through both eggs while thinking “make this as healthy as possible” but he doesn’t see any change, so there must not have been any defects in the first place, something he expected with his dam constantly circulating magic like she has been for the past two weeks.

With dinner finished and cleaned up the family piles on top of each other in the living room while waiting for everypony to show up for the run. Deed is looking over some property listings with Title while Vines just snuggles on top of her son who’s looking through the spell book from the library.

The cleaning spell is fairly basic and he’s already programmed it into a crystal for his dam. She was absolutely beaming with joy when he showed how she could simply touch the gem to a surface, cast the spell and, based on the surface area that the caster is visualizing, remove dust and hair particles.

Cure tried to use it on himself to see if it worked to remove hair from living targets, but apparently the caster has to genuinely believe that they’re cleaning “dirt” of some kind for the spell to work. He thinks. It did remove the dirt from his coat, but it would only be an emergency thing for him or maybe something to do before actually bathing if he was gnarly. A nice, hot bath or shower is just too wonderful to pass on.

“I think I may need to go to an actual magic school at some point,” he complains. “I assume my birth record has me listed as an earth pony?”

“Yep, but if you showed up with a horn they’d probably just assume that there was an error,” his mom explains.

“Hrm. CSGU is the only school mentioned in the stories. I assume there’s others, right? Presumably in most metro areas?”

“Yeah, most but not every metro area. Baltimare is pretty poorly ranked though. There’s too many earth ponies and not enough unicorns around to bring in the widely recognized professors, so they kinda get the leftovers. CSGU is the place to go if ya wanna be a bigshot, Cure. Either that or the west coast. San Franciscolt and Seaddle have good magic universities.”

“I don’t suppose they offer scholarships, do they?”

“They do, champ. It’s definitely something we can look into, but the competition will be insane.”

“Yeah, Cure… no offense, but unless your magic capacity skyrockets over the next few years I don’t see how you’d compete.”

“Finesse, mom. Remember, it costs me a fraction of what a normal unicorn has to spend to cast the same spell because I’m doing it absolutely perfectly every time, at least once I’ve got it right once. I can also twitch the muscles way beyond normal pony speed. I basically have an automatic caster right here on my head.”

“What I’m really looking forward to is learning how to make my own spells. That is what you truly need to go to school for. Well, that and experience… or some kinda specialization like alchemy or whatever.”

“If you say so.”

“Hey… have any of you ever heard of an actual device a unicorn can use to exercise their magic?”

“No, why would we have ever looked into that, sweetie?”

“I dunno, dam. Something to look into since we can actually use it and all… ah crap! I showed Amy and Lemon the TK stuff and never even thought to get them started using magic!”

“I didn’t think you wanted to share that yet,” Deed points out.

“Maybe not everywhere, but I don’t see why we shouldn’t tell them. Aside from the whole memory thing they know everything else. If they ask how I figured it out I’d just explain my special talent kinda led me to getting you all to try it too. That’s close enough to the truth.”

“Well, son, the thing is we were kinda hopin you’d be up for doin some foalsittin tomorrow night. The ladies aren’t trying to get pregnant but nothin stops that estrus need like some lovin, so they’ve asked us to come visit if ya don’t mind.”

“Nah, that’s fine. I’ll sit for the girls whenever, so if they need yer help just say the word. You all plannin on spending the night there? Or am I going there and they're comin here?”

“Mmm I dunno, Cure. You’re awfully young to be left home alone overnight, especially with two foals to watch. It’s probably easier if you went there, though. All the fillies’ stuff is there and you don’t need much yourself.”

“True. It’s up to you three and them, but I raised two kids and held a steady job for almost thirty years. I think I can manage a pair of three year olds overnight.”

“We’ll ask the mares what they wanna do, colt. The girls are their daughters after all.”

“Yeah, that’s fine. It’s a good thing I’ve been acting more mature then. I’m sure they wouldn’t have been okay with that a couple months ago.”

“Having your cutie mark helps a lot there,” Title explains. “It’s a lot easier to accept somepony is ready to have more responsibility when the world itself has marked them too. It’s an unofficial sign of becoming an adult, even on somepony that isn’t legally one yet.”

“There’s a maturity component to it? Like, you literally can’t get one if you’re not at some arbitrary level?”

“I’m not sure if that’s exactly right. I’ve heard of ponies with mental disabilities still getting their marks. Just because they have a childish mind doesn’t mean they can’t find what they love.”

“That’s interesting. I hadn’t really thought of mental disabilities yet. That’ll be an ugly mental quandary to sort out some day,” he says with a grimace.

With a thoughtful look Deed asks, “How so? Can’t you just fix ‘em?”

“I could, dad, but the problem is that you’re kinda changing the pony at some point and they didn’t have the capacity to say yes or no. It’s a philosophical debate with no real solid answer. At least, not one I feel qualified to decide. You also get into all kinds of arguments about where the line is between “low IQ” and legitimately mentally disabled.”

“I dunno,” Title says, “I think if somepony is incapable of making the decision for themselves then they’re probably the latter, honey. Even if they have low IQ but are functional and you can fix it and they ask you to, why not?”

“If I could even do that then I’m not really fixing them, I’m improving them. It leads to a slippery slope and I don’t want to spend my life trying to decide where that fine line is. If it came to that I’d probably solicit the princess herself to define one versus the other.”

“Is that something you think you can do?” Title asks.

“Yes, probably. I could do it to myself right now if I wanted to. I’m just not sure I actually want that. You all voiced concerns over physical changes like my eyes and visual cortex. That’s an actual change to “me” in a fundamental way.”

“Please don’t do that, honey.”

“Right, no plans to, dam.”

"Yeah... I guess that's kind of a touchy subject. Maybe you'll find out there's a standard recommended procedure out there somewhere so you don't have to make those kinda decisions, Cure."

"Right, maybe. It wouldn't necessarily keep me from feeling like a jerk but there does need to be some kind of line that divides heal from improve. I guess it's not anything I need to worry about right now either way. I better go put this thing away before everypony shows up." Crawling out from under his dam, Cure reshapes the horn into a cube and leaves it in his room. It’s about fifteen minutes later that everypony arrives.

With Dawn and Coast by his side Cure pulls Ferric and Heavy away to talk before they get started. Vines and Title occupy Heavy’s sisters while Deed and Solar chat.

“Gonna finally tell me how yer runnin so much, Cure?” Heavy asks as soon as they’re away.

“Yep. Long story short? My talent has two important parts; a scanning and a healing component. When I use it on a pony it scans them like a unicorn doctor’s spell. I keep your info to myself unless there’s a major, life or death issue.”

Both foals look at everypony to gauge reactions. Seeing that they all seem indifferent to that, they figure it isn’t a big deal and move on. If his parents and their classmates don’t care then they don’t have a reason to either, apparently.

“The healing part is the star of the show. That’s why we can keep going so far. You run and strain the muscles by working ‘em. I heal them back stronger. It takes me a minute instead of two days, so one exercise with me is like five to ten normal ones. Probably more for beginners, actually. Since you’re not actually fatigued at the end you can go again the next day no problem.”

“So in a week… " Ferric starts before trailing off in thought.

Coast finishes for her, “If you go every day you’re getting like two months of exercise in about seven hours. It’s legitimately ridiculous how effective it is. Look,” she says, holding up a foreleg and flexing. She’s only run three times, but there’s some small results coming through already.

“Bah!” Dawn grouches, throwing her hooves in the air. “So unfair! I’ve run a dozen times and you’re still getting in shape faster!”

“I dunno, Dawn,” Heavy starts, “you look like you’ve trimmed down some, right?”

“Oh yeah, definitely,” Cure agrees. “It’s way easier for us but you and your brother are doing great. You just can’t see the results as easily because you’re looking every day. Wait here a sec.”

Running inside, Cure grabs the minor illusion crystal and comes back outside. “Look, Dawn.”

Projecting an image of Dawn now versus the night of the rodeo causes everypony to look over. Pointing at her sides, hips, and chest, Cure explains, “You can really see the muscle definition in your legs and chest starting to stand out more. Really impressive results, especially considering how much more difficult it is for unicorns versus earth ponies. See it now?” he turns to find almost everypony snickering at the poor unicorn who is beet red and the oblivious colt waving at and complimenting her body.

Admonishing the group, Cure calls out, “Hey! Don’t laugh at this, it’s fantastic progress! It’s freaking awesome how much work she’s putting into getting in shape.” Wrapping a foreleg over her withers and pulling her against his side he continues, “Y’all oughta be ashamed at laughing just because it’s not as fast for her as you all. Even if it’s easier than normal she’s still taking the time to run out here every day and put forth the effort. What the hay is wrong with ya?”

Wrapping the living inferno in a hug, Cure gently tells her, “Don’t worry about the teasing, Sunrise. I think you’re doing great!” he assures her while pressing her against his chest.

Solar, who is just barely holding on, decides to spare his sister and ask Cure to do the same for him.

“Sure, dude,” Cure calls back, still holding Dawn to his chest. Changing the image to Solar instead reveals how the colt has similarity bulked up on muscle and trimmed his fat down. He didn’t have much fat to begin with, but there’s a very obvious difference in muscle tone, especially on his chest where his pectorals are definitely starting to show more prominently.

Cure can’t help but notice Ferric giving the three Solars appreciatively looks and pinking a little bit. Finally letting go of Dawn, who seems a little out of sorts, Cure gives Solar a similar assessment.

“Show us your sire, Cure!” Title calls.

Once again, Cure conjures up an image as requested, showing that Deed has gotten pretty fuckin jacked running for the last two weeks. All the ladies gawk at the difference and toss a couple compliments the way of the blushing stallion. Blowing out a wolf whistle, Cure can’t help but laugh as his sire’s ears turn even darker red.

“Alright, one more. Crystal, crystal in my paw, who’s the fairest of them all?” he loudly rhymes, showing his dam’s before and after images to everypony.

“Wow Mrs. Vines, you look amazing!” Coast calls out, getting a round of nods from everypony. The soft spoken mare almost goes full-on Fluttershy, Cure notes, with how she tries to hide behind her mane.

“Pfft, what’d ya expect? Nothin short of perfection could hope to produce a specimen like this,” Cure yells out, striking a pose and getting a few whistles from the ladies, and one from a laughing Heavy.

“Alright everypony, we better get movin before the sun does.” Quickly putting the crystal away, he comes back to finish his talk with the new joiners. “Heavy, Ferric; what I was gonna ask is that you keep the way my talent works a secret. I’ve had a few ponies tell me they worry some stuck up noble will try something ta get to me, so mum’s the word for now.”

Getting understanding nods and promises to keep quiet, Cure gives a clap of his hooves and calls for everypony to start moving.

As expected, nothing crazy happened on the run. Heavy struggled, especially with a sister on his back, but Cure kept him moving with his talent and, occasionally, the girls would fly around them before landing on their backs again.

Both he and Ferric were impressed with how effective the trick was, and they really enjoyed just the feeling of running without actually getting tired. Thanking Cure profusely, they took off for home once the group approached Cure’s house.

Rather than split off like normal, Solar and Dawn ask if they can come inside.

“Sure,” Cure says, opening the door for everypony, “come on in. I’ll grab ya a mat, one sec.”

The parents all head upstairs to get cleaned up, leaving the three to chat.

“Nah, that’s okay dude, I just wanted to talk to ya about those illusions.”

Feeling his ears fall a little, Cure assumes the worst. “Oh! I’m sorry Dawn, I shoulda asked first! I didn’t mean to embarrass you!” he explains, giving her a quick nuzzle.

“No, Cure, that’s not it. I was wondering how in the hay you did that.”

“What? The image? Whattaya mean?” Fetching the illusion crystal, Cure looks at it closely. Utterly puzzled, he looks up to the colt and hoofs it over.

Taking the crystal in his hoof, Solar projects an image of himself. Sort of. It’s obviously him, but the details are a bit blurry and indistinct, especially on his back and closer to his tail where he normally wouldn’t see in a mirror.

“Is something wrong with it?” Cure ponders out loud. Getting the crystal back, he projects Solar again, this time in perfect resolution.

“That!” Solar proclaims.

Scrunching his snout in confusion, Cure scratches his head trying to figure out what’s going on.

“Alright dude, I don’t know what to say. I swear, I’m not being a smart aleck, but I have absolutely no clue why it’s not working better for you.”

Pointing at the perfect replica, Solar explains, “There’s no way you should be able to get that accurate of an image of anypony. Ever. It projects what you want based on your memory.”

“Really?” Cure asks, looking down at the crystal as if it’s going to answer. Projecting a scaled down image of the train he rode in on the way to Baltimare proves the young stallion right. Though accurate and of high resolution, Cure can immediately see the difference between a nonorganic item and something he’s scanned, especially in areas he only paid passing attention to.

“Well… shit.” he mutters.

It was odd to hear his famous line repeated back to him, Cure noted. “I have a theory,” Solar starts, “and don’t freak out if it’s right, please, but I suspect there may be more to your talent than you mentioned, Cure.”

Dawn, who’s been quiet for the whole exchange, asks her brother, “What do you mean by “more,” Solar?”

“Remember how Cure fixed your eyes, sis?”

“Yeah. I’ve been doing way better with levitation thanks to him.”

“The thing is, your eyes weren’t injured. He didn’t “heal” your eyes, sis.”

“Uhhh… yeah, he did.”

“No, he didn’t. Healing an injury is not the same!”

“What? It’s not?”

“Not… exactly,” Cure interrupts before the two go on. “I’m sorry to have misled you both. Your brother is right. It’s… well, it’s not really just healing. I do that too, obviously, but yeah…”

Seeing that Cure looks like he's about to panic, Solar adopts a calm voice and sits on his haunches, waving a placating hoof in the air. “Cure, I’m not upset, I promise. You’ve been nothing but friendly and helpful since I met you. Please tell me the truth; I’ll swear another oath of it’ll help, but I don’t plan on breaking the one I already did either way. What exactly is your special talent?”

“Dawn?” Cure asks.

“Oh please, like I’d ever tell anypony,” she casually responds, waving a hoof dismissively.

“Alright. Thanks." Cure takes a moment to gather his thoughts. Despite the assurances from the two, he's terrified they'll freak out and run away. Or worse, tell their father who's a guard. Still, Solar obviously has a pretty good idea what's going on, so if he's going to regain their trust he figures there's really only one way. "I've been trying to keep everypony from finding out. My full talent is one that I think most ponies would be pretty scared of. I'm actually a full-on biomancer. I can do… well… basically anything with biology.”

“Anything?” both ask at the same time.

“Anything I've tried to so far,” he confirms with a nod.

“Ya know what? I’ll take that mat after all,” Solar mumbles.

Thrilled that neither is running away while screaming, Cure fetches a couple mats and lays them out for the two. Once again, Dawn plops down right next to Cure on his, a physical comfort he appreciates given the upcoming conversation. He finds himself leaning into the filly and is relieved when she leans back into him.

“So… how’s it work?” Solar asks.

“I dunno, I’m still trying to figure out how talents actually work. I have some theories-”

Waving a hoof, Solar clarifies what he meant. “No, I mean your talent. How do you do what you do?”

“Oh! Sorry. Uhh I can kind of catalog anything I use my diagnostic thing on. Then I can take parts from one and change them to match another.”

“Like what?”

Pointing at his face, Cure simply says, “Pegasus eyes.”

Solar's ears shoot almost straight upright at the revelation. “No shit? That’s awesome.”

Nodding along, Cure can't help but agree. “They’re really good, yeah.”

“Anything else?”

“You know how mosquitoes find ponies?” At the "no" head shakes he explains, “They smell the air we exhale really far and when they get close they can find us by sensing body heat. I have a few of those heat sensors on me.”

“So… you can see in the dark?” Dawn asks.

“With the pegasus eyes, yes. At least, really low light. Not pitch black dark, though. The heat thing isn’t vision. It’s like how you feel heat near a fire, just more precise and better range.”

“Incredible…” Solar mumbles. “So super eyes, heat sensing, and what else?”

“Nothing else on me right now. Well, I did test out a spider’s spinneret on my frog once. It was weird and I got rid of it but my dam has one on each hoof for making silk yarn for a blanket or whatever for the foal. That stuff is insanely strong.”

“Huh…”

“Oh and I made a horn.”

“What?” both ask again.

“Yeah. They’re pretty convenient,” he explains.

“It works?!” Solar practically yells.

“It would be far less convenient if it didn’t.”

“Uhh, Cure? I don’t see a horn,” Dawn points out. “I’m kinda afraid to ask, but where is it?”

“Oh I took it off before you came over. Was trying to avoid… well, basically this,” he explains, waving between them. “Wanna see?” he asks.

Solar almost falls over at the casual question. Rolling his eyes and throwing his hooves into the air he yells, “Fuck yes I do! This is incredible!”

Trotting upstairs, Cure grabs the horn cube and slightly reshapes it so it’s different from either unicorn. Passing by his parents door, he pokes his head in and yells, “Hey imma show Solar and Dawn my horn. He kinda figured everything out!” before shutting the door and running back downstairs, ignoring the loud bangs he hears behind him.

Reclaiming his spot next to Dawn, Cure sets the horn on the floor between them. “Here ya go.”

“Huh. I kinda expected it to be… " the colt trails off, waving a hoof at Cure’s face.

“Oh! Okay,” he says as he grabs the horn and puts it in place. “Ta daa!” he faux-shouts as he attaches it and lets go. Lifting a book in his aura he shows the two that it does indeed work.

“Dude… what the fuck?” Solar mutters out.

“Yeah, horns are pretty great. I haven’t tried wings yet, but I bet those are fun too,” he casually explains.

“Dude! Are you serious?” the older colt asks, eyes as big as saucers.

“Yeah… why not?”

“Do you like… not realize how big of a deal this is? You’re both a unicorn and an earth pony! You’re like two-thirds of a princess!”

“I don’t think that’s how it works,” Cure notes.

Dawn, who’s been staring mouth-agape since he crammed a horn on his head, finally jumps in. “Cast something!” she demands.

“Okay…” he says, casting the illusion spell so he has a doppelganger sitting next to Solar.

“That’s amazing!” she says, voice full of awe.

“Eh, it’s not a hard spell.”

“Yeah, but you’ve only had your cutie mark for a few weeks!”

“Sis, he’s not had a horn that whole time.” Looking at Cure he asks, “When did you first try that?”

“Well the other day I went to the library and got that book on enchanting…”

“When we met you and Wind Shear?” Dawn asks.

“Yep, the enchanting thing was super confusing, so I got sick of being lost and grew a horn to see if I could tell how casting a spell and enchanting something were connected.”

“That was only four days ago,” Dawn notes.

“Yeah, but I’m cheating so casting is super easy for me.”

“Cheating?” Solar asks.

“Yeah, I kinda planned on telling you all this in a few weeks and offering to upgrade your horn too if ya wanted.” Glancing to his side, he adds, “Of course I’d do the same for you too, Dawn,” while brushing his shoulder against hers.

“Upgrade how? What do you mean?” she asks.

“Here, I’ll show ya.” Casting the illusion spell, Cure shows a very detailed diagram of the muscle and nerve areas that actually perform the action of vibrating during rune creation while explaining the process he went through to enhance them. This led into a discussion about entomology, evolution, and everything he told his parents about the subject.

“Wow. You’re legitimately brilliant, Cure!” Dawn gushes after the lecture.

Waving a hoof dismissively, Cure can't completely fight off the blush he feels. “Nah, it’s just the logical conclusion once you have all of the information.”

“No, she’s right. This is absolutely brilliant. You were going to do this with my horn?”

“Only with your permission!” Cure vehemently insists. “I would never do anything to somepony otherwise. Well, unless they were dying and couldn’t give permission. Or, I guess, if I was defending somepony or myself.”

“Do you swear that this will work?” Solar asks. “I’m literally trusting you with my entire life if I say yes.”

“It’ll either work or I’ll change it back to how it is now. If it works on me and my mom I dunno why it wouldn't on a unicorn too.” Seeing the hesitation he adds, “Dude I upgraded my eyes and brain to pegasus levels. Changing a few things in your horn? That’s nothin. I guarantee you will not be disappointed.”

“Okay. Let’s do it.” Holding out a hoof, Solar gives Cure a nod.

Grabbing it, Cure begins his work. Within a few minutes he’s adjusted Solar’s muscles and nerves, added some features to better protect the horn itself, and strengthened the bone with knowledge he gained at the zoo. It's not a terribly large change, volume-wise, so it only takes a few minutes. It should take a lot more than a small tap to disrupt the colt’s casting now.

“That’s it. You’re all set.”

“Huh. It feels a little different. Got that illusion spell nearby?”

“Do the rune alphabet a few times first. It’s a little different.”

Grabbing the book across the room, Cure opens it with his aura and passes it to Solar while he’s acclimating to the slightly different feel. After running through the rune alphabet five times he feels he's ready to try an actual spell.

“Okay, I could usually cast this… usually. Let’s see.” Casting the spell quickly, Solar nearly gasps at the responsiveness of his modified horn and the speed at which he can move from rune to rune. “Oh my Sweet Celestia, Cure! What did you do?”

Looking at the illusion of himself, he’s not sure exactly what Solar means. “Did something happen? It looks pretty good,” he says, waving at the illusion.

Seeing the confusion on the younger colt’s face he explains, “The runes just about played themselves! I barely have to think about it! Oh my Stars, do you even realize what ponies would do to have you do this for them?!?”

“Foalnapping?” Cure offers.

“Yes. They absolutely would. Stars, I would have if I’d known! Look, Cure, I’m not even joking about this. If you ever need anything, and I mean anything, just say the word.”

“I’m just relieved you didn’t blast me, dude. Don’t worry about it. It took like two minutes. Wings or something crazy would be way harder.”

“Uhh… what?”

“Yeah, I don't think they would work either. The three tribes have different configurations. We all make magic, but earth ponies get the physical strength, endurance, etcetera, you guys get the targeting aura and more magic, pegasi... I'm not sure what all they have. Obviously something to get them airborn cause their wings are too small without something helpin.”

“Yeah, no. Let’s go slow here. I’m still in shock over the horn.”

“I wonder if that’ll show up on yer dad’s scan spell.”

“I can’t imagine he’ll have a reason to scan me either way, so who cares.”

“What about Dawn?”

“Oh. Well if something happens you’ll just have to get to her first,” he answers with a smirk.

“Hah! I doubt that’ll be a problem. Celestia knows we spend enough time together. Now that I actually have somepony my age I can trust with this stuff I bet we’ll hang out a lot more. The main reason I spend a lot of time here alone is so I can figure stuff out. Up till now only my parents and one other couple knew.”

“Lemon Sweet and her wife?”

“Yep,” he says nodding to the colt. “When I helped her wife get over that cold she knew about it. She’s one of the ponies that said to keep it secret. Or, she suggested, go directly to the top.”

“You mean to see the princess? That’s what I would suggest too.”

“I’m kinda worried how she would react. As a ruler if you see a potential threat, even if you don’t want to, you may hafta do something to mitigate that threat somehow,” Cure explains.

Recoiling at the suggestion, Dawn insists, “You’re not a threat though!”

“No, I’m not. Just a potential threat. I’d never do anything to hurt ponies. Heck, my first big project is a tree I think will almost completely eliminate widespread illness. I already have version zero point two in my room.” Using the illusion spell again, Cure provides a basic, crudely animated slideshow of his plans for the tree.

“Pretty neat, huh?” he proudly beams.

“Jeez dude, you don’t think small do you?”

Pointing a hoof, Cure shouts, “Go big or go home! Fortune favors the bold, I say.”

“I can tell. You’re gonna change the world if it works. I’m not foaling, you’ll have statues and everything.”

“Yeah, probably. It’s gonna take a while to get it just right though. Good thing we’re all earth ponies. That speeds up the process a lot.”

“Well… thanks for trusting us with everything, Cure. I know you’re worried about ponies takin advantage of ya, but I promise we got yer back. We’re going to have to go, but maybe I can start comin over to work with you on magic too. Dad just knows a few and Dawn struggles with casting.”

“Did you want your horn upgraded too?” he asks Dawn.

“Yes!” Turning to her brother with big watery eyes she asks, “Do you think it would be okay?”

“Uhh… I dunno, sis… I’m kinda worried dad will be able to notice something is wrong or different about the muscles. I think it may be a good idea to hold off for now.”

“Do you think your sire would let you see the diagram for the diagnostic spells he uses? If we can see exactly what those return as results we’ll know whether the modified horn muscles show up there. I can tell the difference, but if all the scan shows is “here’s a muscle” then it may show up the same as normal.”

“Huh. Good idea. I’ll see if he’ll let me look at the spells he uses. I don’t think they’re restricted, but they’re pretty complicated, which may not matter much anymore.”

“Alright, that sounds like the best course of action. You may want to find out if there’s a spell to block that one or just spells in general. I don’t have any “unicorn vs. unicorn” know-how so I’m no help there. Yet.”

Pausing for a moment, Cure remembers something he wanted to ask. “Hey, before you go, are there any specific methods unicorns use to help grow magic capacity? All I’ve ever heard is “use it more” but you’d think there’s some kind of exercise. I refuse to believe it’s just luck of the draw.”

“If there is, I’ve never heard of it. That sounds like something somepony would keep to themselves if they figured it out.”

“Like super horns?” he asks, glancing up at Solar's forehead.

“HA! Exactly, little dude.”

After agreeing to talk magic either before or after their runs from now on, Solar and Dawn take off for home. The parents, hearing the two leave, come down to join Cure as he puts the guest mats away.

With Deed in the middle, all three are anxiously awaiting news about how the conversation went. Cure, finally able to unclench, walks up to his dam and collapses between her forelegs, rolling so his back is pressing against her chest and his head and forelegs are sitting on his sire’s legs.

“I need a drink,” he groans, to the amusement of his mom and sire.

“Stressful talk, son?”

“Yeah…” he says, nuzzling into his dad’s chest, careful not to poke him with the horn he’s wearing. “Horn nuzzles are hard,” he declares.

After a full minute of quiet he finally rolls upright with a mumbled “thanks, needed that” and instead sits between Deed’s forelegs to be better centered.

“So, where would you like to start?”

“Well, first off, how’d that go?” Deed asks. “We didn’t hear any screamin and nothin’s on fire, so I’m guessin well?”

“Yep. Remember I mentioned “healing” Dawn’s eyes?”

“Uh huh.”

“That was what clued him in originally, I guess. Then the images I projected today… here, look.” Levitating the crystal over to his dam he explains, “Think of me in as much detail as possible, dam, and activate the enchantment.”

The image is perfectly serviceable, though lacking in some details to his eyes. “Alright, here’s what mine looks like,” he says, casting the spell to create a perfect duplicate of himself. “Yours is what any normal pony would get, mine is only possible due to my talent.”

“Your scan and save thing?” Title asks.

“Yep. So, that demonstration I did kinda sealed the deal and he knew something was up for sure at that point. I figured the game was up and went the full disclosure route, at least regarding my talent. We talked for a while, I mentioned growing a horn, the whole dragonfly thing came up, and I ended up improving his horn to match how well mine works.”

“Sweetie, I hope you realize what kind of trust he put in you there. A unicorn’s horn is his life, more or less.”

“I know. It’s like a pegasus and their wings… huh. Wow, I feel really, really awful now. All this time I’ve been so worried about some maybe-noble when there’s ponies suffering out there every day with horrific injuries I could just wave away.”

“Ya can’t fix everything, son.”

“I know dad. I really can’t fix everything, but I don’t know how long I can keep doing so little too. Is there anypony in this town that you know of that’s missing a limb or has no horn that should? I may need to start a to-do list.”

“If you just heal around here you’ll get found in no time.”

“Yeah, and I dunno how the guard would react to some miraculous healer settin up a booth on the steps of Baltimare’s city hall. I need an “in’' at the hospital.”

“You need to be a child, honey.”

“I think I can spare a day a week to help the unhelpable, dam. I can certainly try once, at least.”

“Well anyhow, Solar is gonna probably hook me up with some spells, including the diagnostic ones his sire uses. That’ll let us know if those can detect the Horn Mark Two. I’m also going to learn… basically every spell I can. I’m going to probably try some stuff to make spell memorization easier. No messing with my brain, so don’t worry.”

“I’m kinda whipped. You guys wanna see some pictures? Don’t forget, dad, we need to have a chat before bed. I need a guy’s perspective on a few things, ladies.”

“OH! I have so many questions!” Title shouts, bouncing on her cushion.

For the next hour and a half Cure uses the enchanted crystal to project hundreds of people, places, things, and educational displays for the curious mare, making her refill the unit each time to preserve his own magic.

Eventually he excuses himself to get ready for bed. Showered, dried, brushed, and with shiny teeth he finds Deed waiting in his bedroom. Kicking the door shut he hops up on the bed to lay against the obviously nervous stallion.

“So,” Cure starts, “Ya got a big date planned tomorrow, huh?”

Unable to find his voice, Deed simply nods while still not looking at his son.

“Well, fortunately for you, all kinds of media were readily available to humans, including some things ponies probably have never considered… Here’s some ideas I think everypony will be happy with…”

Cure had to get some assistance from Deed to make the requested changes. Unfortunately his meager magic pool hadn’t refilled after the run, but with his sire’s assistance he was more than capable of finishing the upgrade. At his recommendation Deed had slipped into their bathroom to get acquainted with the new paradigm.

Sitting across from his moms who are leaning on each other, Cure asks them a question that’s been bugging him for a minute. “So, if you recall,” he starts, getting their attention, “I had at one point asked how relationships work with more than two ponies.”

Getting nods from the mares he continues, “I’ve come to enjoy spending time with Dawn, as I’m sure you’ve noticed. I’m sure I can trust her and, as I said before, the main hangup I had about unicorns was their potential lack of physical fitness, which isn’t an issue. She’s clearly crushing on me, but I still find myself attracted to pegasi as well.”

“Oh?”

“Yeah, when Wind Shear was leaning on me I had to actually hold myself back from snuggling under a wing at one point. Same thing when I gave Drift and Glacial a hug after our talk. It’s not even sexual yet. I don’t have those feelings at all. They’re just… so pretty, I guess. I find them very appealing.” Hesitating for a moment he adds, “I don’t know how to deal with this situation.”

“Why do you think you need to do anything at all?” his dam asks. “Mares typically approach stallions, honey. If a filly you like asks you to be in a relationship you’re free to decide. If a second filly is interested too then, if she approaches you, that’s when it’s time to sit down and talk.”

“Yeah, Cure, don’t stress about what to do in a situation that hasn’t even come up yet. It’s not like some filly is going to walk up and demand an answer on the spot, and if she does, do yourself a favor and say no.”

“What if I’m involved with Dawn and she objects to a filly I like joining? Unicorns are mostly monogamous. Or if we stick together but she doesn’t want me to ever go the studding route?”

“Stop,” Vines insists. “Cure, sweetheart, you plan and plan and plan, but these things are quite possibly never going to be an issue. You don’t have to stress about stuff that’s almost certainly not going to happen. Stop worrying so much. You’re eight years old. Act like it, at least here. If something comes up, then we’ll deal with it.”

“Yer dam’s right, honey. You’re not making life or death plans here. Let yourself be a foal on this topic, okay? Besides, traditionally once a stallion has taken care of his mates it’s his choice to go looking for more. Don’t forget, we need stallions to get out there. No mare would discourage that unless he’s not taking care of her first.”

Letting out a sigh, Cure nods in agreement. Getting up, he climbs on top of his dam and snuggles into her mane. “Love you dam. Love you mom.”

“Love you too,” the two mares chorus.

Within a few minutes Vines can feel the relaxed colt drift off on her back.

“So…” Title starts after ensuring he’s asleep, “any idea what we’re in for tonight? I know damn well he didn’t want to talk to his sire about any stinkin relationship advice. If anything it would be the other way around.”

“Yeah, Deed was fidgeting the whole time Cure was getting cleaned up too. I can’t even fathom what they came up with but you could bake a pie under my tail right now so I don’t even care as long as it gets the job done.”

“Ha! Gross. Want me to take him up so you can get to it?”

“Nah, let’s go though. I might need you for moral support depending on how far they went. Lead the way unless you need your ears warmed on the steps.”

“Nope, I’m good. C’mon.”

Title trots upstairs and into Cure’s room with Vines following along. Tucking the colt in, both mares, resigned to their fate, pull his door shut and enter their bedroom, finding Deed casually laying on the bed with far too large of a smile.

Looking to her wife with a smirk, Title waves to the stallion and declares, “He’s all yers,” before hopping on the edge of the bed to watch.

Giving the stallion a cautious look, Vines slowly approaches. “What did you do?”

“Do?” he asks innocently. “I’ve been up here waitin. The colt just had some relationship questions.”

“Uh huh. And he came to you?” she asks with hiked brows.

Scowling at the implication, Deed defends himself. “I’ll have you know that our conversation was very productive. I feel like it’ll lead to lots of positive things for all of us,” he finishes with a firm nod.

“Riiiight. Whatever you say, sweetheart.” Blowing a snort out, she faces him fully. “Look, babe, I don’t really care what you have planned. I’m putting off so much steam that if you don’t plug this hole I might dehydrate.”

Title snorts and covers her mouth while laughing at the normally meek mare.

Moving to his wife, Deed starts gently trailing nips and kisses up her cheek, over the sensitive muscles near her ears, and then slowly up her neck and towards her collarbone. Wrapping around her neck, he carefully massages her withers while rubbing her chest as he continues his assault.

(A/N - Not exactly graphic but this short bit here is the semi-NSFW part, so you can consider the chapter done if that’s not your thing. Nothing else of note happens.)

Already prepped and ready to go, it doesn't take long for Vines to get that needy feeling. She allows herself to luxuriate in the attention as her stallion guides her to the bed. Climbing on with her forelegs, she lays on her barrel and she stops paying attention to everything but the gentle massaging of her back and haunches and the trailing kisses and bites following behind the pets and rubs.

She's so completely lost in the moment that the awe-filled and drawn out “what the… did that just flex?” from her wife doesn’t even register. What does register, however, is the fantastically fulfilling pressure deep, deep inside her. Far more delightfully deeper than normal, she suddenly realizes with a “huh?”

“Sweet Celestia, Deed, you’re gonna push her fuckin heart out her chest, ease back!”

“Shattap, babe! I know what I’m doing! It's right where it needs ta be!”

Vines had to agree with the stallion, he definitely knew what he was doing and he can keep doing it as long as he wants. ”Oooooohhh staaaars!!!” she calls out, convulsing so hard that the only thing keeping her still is his weight on her back.

“Wow…” she hears her wife say, then with the addition of something she’d only heard of in magazines, her world nearly turned white as the same, suddenly distant voice calls out, “It vibrates?!?” before everything exploded and darkness swallowed her whole.

Chapter 28: Canterlot

Something has gone wrong. We don't seem to have an archived copy of that chapter.

Chapter 29: Familia

Saturday, October 4th, 908 AB (4 days later)

Bouncing out of bed, Cure quickly takes care of the basics, washes up, and dances down the stairs. It’s not quite sunrise yet, but that just means he has time to get breakfast ready for his parents. He’s been riding a high all week since the appointment with the lawyers and even two days of school boredom couldn’t get him down.

Really, going to school sucked far less than he anticipated. The class size is small and the teacher, Polished Apple, was quite the looker as far as he was concerned. Sure, she didn’t have wings, but being the magnanimous type, Cure could overlook that flaw.

Dawn didn’t have them either, yet, but he was certainly developing feelings for the girl anyhow. She’d gotten past the “crush” phase already, so his teasing wasn’t having the same impact as it had the first couple weeks. Now that she knew the colt a bit better she was learning to take his attempts at embarrassing her and just roll with them, occasionally flipping the script on him.

She and her brother had come over to hear the good news when the family got home Wednesday night. They ended up not going for a run that evening; instead Solar and Dawn got an update on everything that had happened and they spent a while talking about enchanting and the potential Cure sees in it.

Unfortunately neither unicorn seems to have a knack for spellcrafting, but Cure’s not in any particular hurry to tackle that mess anyhow, aside from the small tweaks in the book from Canterlot, that is.

He figures when he’s ready to really start working on bigger modifications he can set up some kind of funky horn on a vine rig that he can control from several meters away and just kind of test what happens when he changes one rune or another until he can get a feel for exactly how the whole thing works.

That will allow him to try different combinations and, in theory, the only risk is an exploded horn that he can fix pretty easily. As exciting as it sounds to try, Cure plans on waiting until he’s older and, hopefully, has a bit more magic power to throw around. As it is now he simply lacks the capacity to make more than a couple attempts unless he sticks to the low level spells and cantrips, which he doesn’t see a real reason to alter anyhow.

Horn in place, Cure hops up on the table so everything is easily in view. A mixing bowl, flour, eggs, baking soda, vanilla, sugar, milk, butter, salt, nutmeg, and a set of measuring spoons and cups all float out of the cabinets and the cold storage pots.

Cure is legitimately having fun gathering up the ingredients while thinking up a familiar tune.

"duh duh duh DUN DA DUN"

It just feels like the right kinda tune when he's making everything line up with willpower alone. Waving his hooves and swinging his body back and forth, he doesn’t even register his parents gingerly making their way to the living room.

Stepping carefully and staying far enough back to avoid his heat sensors, the three sit on their haunches and quietly watch the show, both mares leaning on their husband while they smile at their son's antics.

Ingredients gathered, Cure lifts his right hoof slowly as if he’s picking up an enormous boulder, the action mirrored by the bottle of milk. Pouring the measured amount into the bowl he repeats the act with the butter. With all of the fury of a lone soldier firing his soul at the approaching horde he… carefully uses a warming cantrip to heat up the milk and melt the butter.

Shortening thoroughly slain and mixed, he uses both hooves to hoist the gargantuan weight of a few eggs, then calls down the wrath of a thousand samurai to very gently cut them, rending their shell, and depositing their bounty in the mixture; their pathetic remains discarded with the rest of the trash… in the trash bin to the side, where they go.

At the minute mark the music stops. With bated breath the parents watch and listen as the soft and quick hums can barely be heard in the room. With microscopic precision, he mimes tweezers extracting the smaller quantities with the measuring spoons, adding them to the concoction.

Vines finds the whole process adorable. The body movement, the music he’s enthralled with, the exaggerated and silly motions he’s making. It’s a difficult struggle, keeping herself from wrapping around the cute colt and smothering him in kisses and nuzzles and just biting those floppy ears he’s subconsciously using like twin conducting batons.

Title looks on while Cure finally gets to the last ingredient; the flour. As if swirling a fancy wine, Cure twirls his hoof while the measuring cup loosens and scoops cup after cup of flour, the mixing spoon slowly combining the ingredients in the bowl as the pace and volume of the music picks up, then abruptly cuts off.

Once all ingredients are poured in it’s apparently time for the main event. Cure rolls up his nonexistent sleeves, splays his hooves forward to crack his nonexistent fingers, and rolls his neck and shoulders in preparation for the final showdown. Swaying and waving his hooves, Cure’s clearly building up to something. All three parents trade looks with raised brows as the colt gets prepped for a showdown of some kind.

And then, he cuts loose.

Deed finds himself biting his lip trying not to laugh or cheer for the colt. He’s clearly beatin the shit outta somethin, mentally at least, and that pancake batter is takin a whoopin worse than any confection he’s ever seen. The fight goes on for a solid minute with well timed attacks, launched along with the music. Deed can almost swear he hears explosions in the distance as the colt whales on the mixing bowl’s contents.

He’s not exactly sure that punches, hoof stomps, knee drops, and, occasionally, forward kicks are the best way to bust up flour lumps and get a good, smooth mix but he’s damn proud that his son will be ready to kick plot should any hostile breakfast creatures even threaten Equestria’s safety.

Grande finale complete, Cure lowers the bowl onto the counter top and wipes his brow, despite the lack of sweat.

With an approving nod he declares preparations complete and begins floating all the ingredients back where they belong, depositing dirtied utensils in the sink for somepony else to deal with because ya either cook or clean, not both dammit.

With everything set, Cure prepares to get cooking when he’s suddenly assaulted by a round of cheers and applause from behind. Cure can feel his ears sag as he lets out a sigh. “Ahh hell. How much were you there for?”

“Oh, from about the start on, I would say. Way to give that batter what for, son,” Deed cheers, jabbing out a few punches.

“Yeah, Cure. You sure kicked its flank. Now lemme take over. As cute as the widdle Wavey-poo’s playtime was, I’m starvin.”

“Of course ya are…” he quietly mumbles as his mom trots past him.

Freezing mid-step she looks over her withers at the colt. “What?”

“I said anything for my beloved mother,” he insists, with a big, wide-eyed smile.

“I really liked the music, sweetie. Maybe you can find a spell to put some of the songs you’ve heard into one of those gems.”

Title grumbles out a “thought so” as she gets started cooking while Deed sets the table. After his mom burns the first one Vines takes over. She still eats the pancake, of course, despite the smirk Cure gives her.

Once Vines is done cooking up the batter, which is much easier now that Cure has rigged a heating crystal into the stovetop burner, the family starts digging in.

“Not bad, son. You were up awful early. Excited to head into town again?”

“Eh, I’m not sure. I still have some reservations about this, as you know, but I’ll at least be glad once we’re done. I’m looking forward to tonight more than the meeting with great grandpa… no offense.”

“No, I get it. Ya don’t even know ‘em, and we’ve said he’s a bit of a hardflank, so I’m not upset. Just mind yer manners and all. Yes sir, no sir, please, thank you, and so forth.”

“Your sire is right, sweetie. He’s brusque but family is everything to him. Be respectful, but keep in mind he’s a military pony too, so don’t be surprised if he’s a little bossy.”

“Just be yerself, Cure. What could go wrong?” Title asks with a smile. Both Deed and Vines scowl at her for a second before going back to Cure.

“Ignore yer mom, son. She’s just a trouble starter like a blue colt I know.”

“Noted. So do we have time to go to a gym beforehoof? You know I’ve been wanting to get some hard numbers on everything.”

“Yep, yer moms are gonna go poke around the shoppin area for a bit. We’ll be a couple blocks away, but don’t plan on doin much. We don’t wanna show up all sweaty and stuff.”

“Nah, I wasn’t even going to really work out. I just want to see how strong I actually am to get a baseline, then measure TK field strength… then repeat both tests while actively channeling magic to see if it’s a multiplicative effect. If you’re up for it, I’d like you to do the same thing, pa.”

“Sure, I just hope it ain’t too busy what with us goin on a Saturday mornin.”

“Ahh crap… I didn’t think of that. Do ponies work out a lot, though? We don’t even have a gym out here, so I figured it was more of a niche thing.”

Title jumps in to answer. “Not much, honey. You’ll probably only have a dozen or so ponies there, and they’ll all be too busy doing their own thing to pay attention to ya. Just don’t start tossin around huge amounts of weight unless you wanna stand out. Have you made some changes you haven’t told us about?”

“Uhh, not really but kind of. I don’t know if you’d really consider it a huge change, but I’ve beefed up my bone and muscle density a lot. Tendons and ligaments can only get so strong, but I’ve definitely improved them by rearranging their protein structures to be more like what you see in that spider silk I gave you."

"I think they’re a lot stronger, but there’s not really a good way to test. I could replicate them and hang weights or something, I guess," he mutters, ignoring the the fact that dangling weights on, essentially, pony body parts is slightly disturbing to his parents. Refocusing he adds, "The main limitations there are not screwing up something related to my growth, but I’m actively monitoring that and making sure everything is going right.”

“How would you know what’s right, though?”

“Well I scan all my friends every time we run, so compared to them I’m growing a tiny bit more. I can only assume it’s related to getting my mark. Now that I think about it, that’s probably why Ferric is bigger and stronger than anypony else. Well, that and her work.”

Title considers the possibility for a moment and, eventually, agrees that Cure’s theory is likely right. “How much have you grown? You don’t really look any taller, though I did notice ya seemed heavier the other day when you gave me the massage in Canterlot.”

“I’m a little under a centimeter taller. I can only tell because I can compare my scans. As far as weight… well. I’m not sure how “meal appropriate” this is,” he says, getting a sigh from his dam, “but I’ve taken some of the ideas from those insects back at the zoo and… let’s just say I barely have to go potty anymore.”

“Please don’t be disgusting, honey.”

“I won’t dam. I’ll just kinda give you a filtered explanation, how’s that?”

“Thank you.”

“Sure. Well, suffice to say that a normal pony only gets about eighty percent of the nutrients he or she eats. Some of that is because we don’t chew enough, but most is just that our body doesn’t always break everything down all the way to get every bit of energy."

"There’s negative returns on investment, see, so larger creatures like us would normally burn more energy getting everything than we would if some of it escaped our system without being broken down. With a more efficient system, though, that's not an issue for me. I'm using almost everything I eat.”

“Huh… that’s interesting.”

“Right? Well, for us in a civilized society that inefficiency isn’t really a huge problem, especially since I could literally eat anything right now and, worst case scenario, I would just pass it eventually. Most things would get broken down though.”

“Like… rocks, metal?”

“To a degree, yes. Iron, for example, is something we need, just not much of. There’s a balancing act, of course, so if I sat down and ate a bunch of rocks then they gotta go somewhere, ya know?”

“Honey…” Vines warns.

“Well, they do,” Cure answers with a shrug. “I’m not being gross, it’s just a simple fact. I mean, I could change a pony so they can pull the friggin rock back outta their nose, but there’s already kind of a path and supporting muscles to make it go the other way, so why bother?”

“Don’t fill the toilet with rocks, son. It ain’t built for that.”

“HA! No, I’m not eating rocks, but my point is that I can take in ten kilograms of food over a few days and use almost the full ten kilograms. A lot goes towards burning energy and I do have some fat stores. I’m keeping myself around fifteen percent, which is a pretty healthy level.”

“C’mere, sport,” Deed says, waving his son off to the living room. The food is gone now, so Cure quickly levitates everypony’s settings to the sink, getting a thanks from his dam, and trots out to the living room. Both of his moms follow and take up seats to watch.

“Alright, son, lemme get a feel for yer weight now,” Deed says, sitting on his haunches. Cure walks in front of him to let his sire lift him up.

“Well you do seem heavier, but it’s not like ya weigh eighty kg or anything. Maybe just five kg, give or take? I dunno, it’s pretty hard to tell small differences.”

“Right, I wouldn’t want to be your size some day and weigh like six hundred kg. I’d break everything I step on. There’s a balancing act to it, ya know? Since I can change and heal anything in my body really quickly and without using hardly any magic I can try a lot of different things. I’ve been testing different bone compositions to find a good balance between strong, flexible, and not overly heavy. I think I’ve found a good mix.”

“Yeah? How do you test it?” Title asks.

Sitting on his haunches, Cure holds out a hoof. He grows a ten centimeter long, half centimeter thick bone straight out over the course of about a minute, then disconnects it from his hoof and passes it to his sire, who looks it over and passes it to the moms. He repeats the process a few more times, with each sample having a slightly different color.

“Uhh… what are these, Cure?” Title asks as she fans the four bone cylinders out, unsure what she’s supposed to do with them.

“So the first cylinder is the same composition you’d find in a typical colt my age, specifically in their femur. It’s really tough, granted, and it will bend some, but if you stress it much it’ll break. Obviously my femur is thicker than that half-centimeter width, but you get the point.”

“The second one is still what you’d find in a normal colt, just one that works out or is really strong. Honestly, that’s about what you’d expect to find in somepony my age that’s built like Ferric. It’ll take a bit more punishment than the original one, but it’s still just mundane bone.”

“The third is the same composition as that rhino back at the zoo. Rhinos are big, heavy, powerful creatures that can weigh up anywhere from a thousand to thirty five hundred kg. Now that one didn’t seem to work out a lot and had a pretty sedate lifestyle, but I was still able to get an idea for why they can move weighing that much and not break every bone in their legs. You’ll notice it’s a fair bit tougher.”

“The final sample is what I have in most of my bones right now. It’ll bend a lot more before it breaks, and it’s harder to bend it at all. If you were able to balance on that bone with all your weight you could probably hop around on it and it won’t break. You’d punch holes in the floor and your hoof, though. If you put it on a scale you’ll notice it’s only a little heavier than the others, too.”

Deed looks at the samples thoughtfully. Bending a few, he can tell that the colt’s not joking. The last one barely gives at all, even if he puts some effort into it, and it doesn’t show any signs of breaking. “Huh. And this isn’t gonna make ya short or nothin?”

“It may in somepony else if their body couldn’t make more of it. It won’t be a problem for me, though.” Pointing to the sample he explains, “That’s made of living cells, just like regular bones. When I grow it’ll grow naturally too, but even if it didn’t I could just manually grow myself with some work.”

"I haven't seen a bunch of sticks like these laying around, Cure," Title points out. Cure holds his hoof out for the samples, then pops them in his mouth one at a time to the parents' horror.

"What? I don't even need to chew them, I'm just reabsorbing the nutrients. I told you they're living cells and I just made 'em. Anyhow, you do realize that we’re doing something similar to make you grow, too, right, dad? You’ve grown about four hundredths of a centimeter over the last few days. Welcome to second puberty, by the way.”

Deed shakes himself out of the brief shock. “Uhh. Oh! Neat. My voice ain’t gonna change again is it?”

“No, we’ll only make you a bit taller, longer, and a smidge thicker so everything is proportional.”

“I don’t think yer moms can handle that, son,” Deed says with a big grin, waggling his eyebrows at the mares. Neither of them pays him any mind, though, and Cure just lets out a sigh while rubbing at his temples.

“Can you give us all these super bones, Cure?” his mom asks.

“Of course! I'd like to do it in small increments, but that’s the best way to make changes anyhow. Maybe after I make his changes each night I can work on each of you a tiny bit too. It’ll probably be six months or so before all three of you are fully converted, but we can start with the most important stuff in your head, your spine, and your ribs.”

“Mm… I’m not sure, sweetie. You know how I feel about changes. You’re sure the only thing this’ll do is keep us safer?”

“Yep, and maybe a tiny bit heavier. If you weigh 170,” he says, smiling mischievously at his glaring dam, “kg now then afterwards you may weigh 180 or so. Dad would go from about 200 to maybe 215, but he’s gonna put on a good five to ten percent just from being bigger anyhow, so maybe 225 to 240? I dunno…”

All three parents consider their son's proposal. It’s a change that Vines isn’t terribly fond of, but it won’t be outwardly visible and the only time it should matter is if they’re otherwise likely to get hurt, so she’s willing to accept it given it’ll only ensure her family’s safety. Cure continues his explanation while she’s pondering how far down that road she’s willing to go.

“The only reason I haven’t offered to do more for you all is because I wanted to make sure no strange problems would come up. Bone doesn’t just sit there after all, it also houses marrow that makes blood and does several other important things. This does all that too. I’d have to account for areas on your body that need to be more flexible, though… like when you’re giving birth in a few months.” Grimacing at some horrific idea he adds, “Flexibility is better than strength in some areas.”

“I say do it, son. It’ll only keep you and yer moms safer. I can’t imagine when it would ever come up, but ya never know when an accident can happen. This way if yer not there ta heal it they’re more likely to be fine anyhow.”

“Yep, absolutely. I can also make it so you can consciously turn off pain in areas, but you would have to be really careful with that. We feel pain for a reason, after all. I could do that at the same time I’m tweaking your bones, though, that way if you’re hurt you can still function despite the pain that could otherwise prevent you from getting out of further harm’s way.”

Title hums thoughtfully, then with a nod says, “That sounds very useful, honey. I didn’t know you could make unconscious things so they can be controlled. Isn’t that kinda dangerous though?”

“It definitely is. I wouldn’t do that for most things, like your heart beating, but it’s worked out pretty well in other areas.”

Both mares look at their husband with knowing stares. He chuckles a bit and shrugs. “The colt ain’t lyin. Havin control over some things that are usually automatic is pretty nice,” he says with glowing red ears.

“You don’t say… No wonder you stayed…” glancing at Cure, Title stops mid-sentence.

“What? You can say it. It’s not like he got friggin struck by lightning and suddenly his stuff got an upgrade. I was the responsible party, after all.”

“Confidentiality, son! C’mon! Yer killin me here!”

“They’re your wives, dad. They have the right to know just like I tell you what I’m doin to myself. Besides, how else would the damn thing suddenly grow, become prehensile, and start vibratin like there’s a stampede? Special herbs?”

“Uhh… well I heard about this one pill…” Deed starts, getting a laugh from everypony in the room.

“Yeah, and I bet some Saddle Arabian prince sent you a letter sayin you were related to some dead sheik and had an inheritance sittin out there. Ya just needed to send a few bits to collect it, right?”

Pushin the colt over, Deed mutters “shattap.”

Dusting himself off, Cure stands and faces his sire. “Ya better watch it, old timer. Just cause yer bigger now doesn’t mean it’ll always be the case.”

“Meh, I ain’t scared.”

Making a show of it, Cure reaches up, snaps his horn off, tosses it to the side, and full-body tackles the bigger stallion. It… doesn’t go well for him, especially since Deed’s gotten pretty good with his TK field since he went out drinking a few weeks earlier.

Vines and Title simply sit back and enjoy the show, happy to watch the colts burn off some energy before they take off for town.

The Rusty Barbell’s name doesn’t exactly inspire confidence, but that doesn’t stop Deed and Cure from checking out the place. The owner, a large, dark red stallion unsurprisingly named Rusty Barbell agrees to talk to the two in his office after they approach the young stallion working the front desk about gathering some numbers for a "science experiment."

Cure had come prepared, and had drawn out a ledger-like spreadsheet to record all his findings on.

Rusty is about a half hoof taller than Deed is, and although Cure’s definitely bulked Deed up a bit over the last month, there’s no doubt that the larger stallion has put some serious time into the gym, and not just as the owner.

He’s about the only other stallion that Cure’s seen so far that has a legitimately black mane and tail like his father’s and his mark shows two trapezoid shaped weights with a bar between them, bent up in the middle like it’s on a pony’s withers.

After several attempts to get the pair to sign up for a three year monthly plan, Rusty finally agrees to let them use the equipment for half the price of a normal one day pass and let Cure in for free with the express warning not to get himself hurt.

Title had been right, fortunately, and the gym was nearly empty. There were maybe a dozen other ponies on various forms of equipment with a surprisingly even split between mares and stallions. All but two are earth ponies, Cure notes, with a pair of pegasi running on treadmills. Apparently gettin swole isn’t a big deal for unicorns, or they just happened to have different schedules.

Unsure where to start, Cure figures the draft pull weight machine would probably be a good overall indicator of strength since it hits just about every muscle group. With his sire in tow he heads that way.

“So dad, have you ever used any of this stuff?”

“Nope,” he answers, looking the machine up and down.

It reminds Cure of a basic row machine from before, but instead of pulling back towards his body he straps himself into a harness that wraps around his shoulders at the base of his neck. Unfortunately, he’s way too small for the harness, even with it tightened all the way. One thing he learned from watching others’ mistakes is to never, ever use exercise equipment in any other way than it’s designed to be used.

Despite the fact he could heal himself from almost any injury, he decides he’ll forgo the pulling exercise for now, and instead gets his sire situated.

The machine is a very heavy steel contraption, and the cables that go to the harness look like they could pull a good sized truck out of a ditch with no problem, and despite the wear on the unit it was obviously made to easily handle the max weight of the attached plates; a staggering stack that goes up to two thousand kg with a long pin that’s as thick as his leg to change the setting.

The thick pulleys that feed the cables to the harness are situated at the bottom, so Deed should have no problem exerting his full force forwards without being pulled upwards or back at a weird angle.

“Alright dad, the harness seems to fit you fine. It sucks that I’m too small. I really wanted to get some numbers for myself, but oh well. At least I can get some free weight numbers and figure out some stuff there. For now, all you’re going to do is pull forward slowly. I can’t emphasize that enough, dad. Slowly. For now only use raw muscle, so stop cycling your magic, alright?”

“You got it sport. How much you got on there?”

“Two hundred and forty kg. I figure about your own body weight is a good starting point, so three plates. It should be easy. Remember, muscle only. If you use your TK field only do so to not slip or something.” Cure pauses to look down. The pull surface is a thick rubber mat sitting on a metal plate that’s attached back to the machine to prevent sliding and to prevent the machine itself from being pulled over if some moron were to pull too fast and hard. The mat also has raised, padded steel bumps for ponies to anchor their hooves in front of.

“Alright, let’s see what I can do.”

“Move forward so the straps are taut, then slowly pull forward from there.”

Deed walks forward, looks over his withers at the weights, faces forwards, then takes another step. The weights lift up off the floor with absolutely no resistance.

“Okay, two forty is nothing apparently. Let’s go up by about… eighty? You think that’s okay, dad? It’s the smallest increment for the full sized plates, but there is a 40 kg half plate.”

“Definitely. I barely felt it.”

“You’re not using magic are ya?”

“None. I didn’t even have to grab the ground, son. Just basically leaned forward.”

“Okay. Back up and I’ll put another eighty on.”

The pair repeat the cycle again and again and it’s not until Deed is pulling 800kg that he starts to struggle a little bit.

“Okay… so, 800kg you can do… do you think you can go up again?”

“Yeah, that was hard, but just go ahead and toss another 40 on there.”

Cure puts the half plate 40 kg weight on top of the stack. Cure notes that he is lifting a slab of metal that weighs about 80% his own weight with no trouble, even without magic. He does have to use his TK to anchor himself to the floor so he doesn’t fall forwards though.

Deed manages just fine, and it’s when they’re at 920 kg that Deed finally declares that he’s hit his max.

“Damn, dad. That’s kinda boss, actually. Umm… a few ponies are lookin this way. I’m not so sure we wanna do this with magic.”

“How high does the machine go, champ?”

“Two thousand kg.”

“Sweet Celestia. If ya see somepony pullin that lemme know.”

Looking between his dad and the machine, Cure idly notes, “Well… with your magic I bet you could.”

Deed looks over his withers at the colt. “You think?” he asks, surprised.

Turning to face his sire, Cure shrugs, “I honestly don’t know, dad. It wouldn’t absolutely blow my mind if you could do a fair bit more. I don’t think double is unlikely. Triple is the max I would expect.” Cure looks around the gym for a moment. A few ponies, almost all mares, had been checking Deed out, but they’ve basically all gone back to what they were doing.

“If you want… we could try. I’m not so sure it’s a good idea though.”

Deed mulls it over a minute. Shifting from side to side on his hooves, Cure can tell that the stallion really wants to test his limits. With a second check he confirms that nopony is looking their way, so he quickly resets the pin to the very bottom of the stack, removes the half plate, and gets well out of the way.

“It’s set if you wanna try, but for the love of all that is holy go slow, dad, and stop and slowly back up if anything feels off.”

Course decided, Deed steps forward to tighten the harness and the cables.

Cure can almost see the moment his sire starts cycling his magic again. His back straightens and the muscles on his chest, legs, and hips all flex, standing out far more than they do in his normal relaxed posture.

Braced and ready, Deed reaches forward with a foreleg, begins pushing with his back legs, and… slowly pulls himself forward, barely straining at all. With a quirked eyebrow he turns and looks at his son, who’s staring back at the plates with his mouth hanging open. Turning his neck a little more he can see the whole stack sitting just a hoof off the ground. The pull is there, but it's just not enough to unbalance the stallion.

“Huh. I kinda expected that to be a little harder.”

“Dad!” Cure hisses out, “Set that shit down, dude, everypony’s starin.”

Quickly taking a step back, Deed doesn’t account for how much weight he’s dropping. With an enormous BAM noise that echoes all across the gym the dark stallion looks back at the plates, then turns and gives a sheepish smile and a shrug to his son, who’s now doing a double face-hoof.

“Duuude. How long you been liftin, bro?” a green stallion asks, approaching the pair with towel draped over his withers.

“Uhh… this is my first time?” Deed answers, unsure what to say.

“Woah… you do a lot of farm work? You’re shredded, bro.”

“What?” Deed asks, looking over himself. He doesn’t see anything wrong with his coat, so he looks over at his son for an explanation.

“He means you’re ripped, dad. Jacked, swole, etcetera.”

With a big smile and, still wearing the harness, Deed nods to the stallion. “Oh! Well. Thank you! You’re very shredded too, young stallion.”

“Oh my Celestia,” Cure mutters as the owner approaches the machine. Like an angry parent, as soon as he gets close all the other ponies skedaddle and get back to whatever they’re doing, trying not to draw his attention.

“What in Tartarus was that?” Rusty demands as he gets close.

“Umm… I lifted the weight?” Deed answers.

“I saw that, you idiot, how did you lift the whole thing?”

Pointing away from the machine, Deed casually explains, “Well ya see, I pulled thataway.”

“Yeah?”

“And the weights went thataway,” he says, pointing up above the resting place for the stack. Satisfied at his excellent description of the events, Deed smiles broadly at the taller stallion.

“That’s how it normally works, yeah, but how? The only ponies I’ve seen that can move that whole stack are the tall earth ponies that are as big as Her Highness herself.”

“Look, Mister Barbell, I dunno what to say,” Deed says while shrugging. Taking another step forward, the entire stack of weights lifts off the ground while he’s casually standing there talking, “See? I just pull a little bit and they come right up. Maybe somepony changed out the metal ones for wood or somethin.”

Rusty is looking back and forth between the stallion and the nearly two and a quarter tons of weight he’s easily holding off the ground. Scratching at his head for a moment, he waves Deed back towards the machine so he can check it out. Deed backs up again, more gently this time, lowering the stack of weights to the ground.

“Dad we need to go, dam and mom are expecting us. I got the numbers I need, so get outta that thing and let’s go.”

“Are ya sure, sport?”

With wide eyes, Cure motions towards Rusty with his head, then jerks it towards the exit while the owner is inspecting the equipment.

“AH, Oh yeah! Look at the time!” There’s no clocks in the gym, Cure notes.

“Yep, c’mon dad.”

Quickly and quietly, the pair get Deed out of the harness and make their escape while Rusty is bent over the machine inspecting the plates.

Now out the door and quickly trotting towards the shopping area they’re supposed to meet the mares at, Cure looks over to his dad. “I swear, dude, I don’t know why the hay I listen to you sometimes.”

“What?” Deed asks defensively.

“I knew it was a bad idea to try. Why didn’t I say no? I’m the friggin adult here.”

Pouting at his son, Deed hangs his head a little. “Hey… that’s not fair.”

“Well, if the shoe fits.” Looking over to the sad pony face on his sire, Cure rolls his eyes. “Stop yer friggin poutin, it doesn’t work when yer four times as big as me and three times my age. Sorta.” he mutters, shaking his head.

“I just don’t get why I didn’t stop you. Does yer mark mind control ponies or something? Or maybe it just lets you know what to say to get them to listen to ya. That would still be some kind of mind reading ability, though. Maybe it just lowers everypony else’s IQ whenever you start talkin. Meh, whatever, I’m onto you.”

After the gym fiasco, which Cure happily told his moms about, the family sat down and ate a quick lunch before Deed led them to the richer part of town towards the coast. Cure was getting the “you do not belong here” feeling as the houses gradually went from a typical white picket fence single family home to larger and more grandiose estates as they got closer to the water.

Finally coming to a stop, Deed turns towards a house set back a little ways with a wroght iron gate blocking the path up to it with a tall, brick wall surrounding the property and a guard, Cure is guessing, on the other side watching the family. In the center of the gate is an emblem; presumably Brick’s mark. Unsurprisingly, it’s a brick wall. The bricks are five stacks tall. The top, bottom, and middle rows each have three bricks while the second and fourth row have four, offset by half a brick width from the rows above and below.

Deed has a quick conversation with the guard who leans over and looks down a clipboard before opening the gate and waving the family towards the house. The grounds are extremely well kept with a very impressive garden filled with dozens of flowers that Cure couldn’t possibly name. The house itself, if not a legitimate mansion, is damn sure close to being one. It's a lot nicer than any house Cure has lived in in either life.

There's three floors and possibly a basement. There's no ground-level windows, though, so it's hard to tell from the outside. The front of the house has over a dozen windows, several of which have little flower boxes hanging from the front of them.

To the right of the house is a half dozen rows of grape trellis going from just in front of the house down the side towards the back. Several of the vines are hanging heavy, full of grapes; presumably due to be harvested before the frost starts hitting. Cure doesn’t know anything about grape farming, but he assumes that freezing wouldn’t be good for them.

The front door opens as the family approaches, and an offwhite stallion with a brown mane steps out and starts trotting their way. Unlike most ponies his legs fade to a darker brown color towards his hooves. Once he gets close enough he sits on his haunches and throws out his forelegs yelling “YO COUSIN DEED! HOW YA BEEN?”

Eyes wide, Deed quickly trots up to his cousin and almost tackle-hugs him yelling “LUCKY! Long time! How’s the wives?”

“Eh, you know," he says shrugging, "I see y’all are doin pretty good. Yo V, beautiful as ever, honey. Title, right? I think we met at the last reunion. Wow, you are lookin ray-d-ant!” he says, emphasizing every syllable. Poking Deed in the chest he adds, “Looks like you got at least one more on the way, eh, Deed? Congrats, cous!”

“Ah, three actually,” Deed corrects.

“Oh ho! Lookie here mister two-for-one. V! Baby! Congratulations. Long time comin, eh?”

Vines steps up and is wrapped in a big hug from Lucky, then the stallion looks down like he hadn’t noticed Cure the entire time.

“And who’s the big stallion over here? Hey Cure, been a few years. Ya remember yer Uncle Lucky?” Cure is pretty sure that technically, he’s a second cousin, but when in Rome…

Grimacing a bit, Cure shakes his head, “Sorry, Uncle Lucky, I think I must have been like four years old. I can’t say I remember much of the last reunion except fallin asleep with the other foals super early.”

Nodding enthusiastically, Lucky goes over and wraps Title in a hug while agreeing with Cure. “Yeah, sure, that’s okay, young colt. I guess that was just a bit before ya hit five. Summer foal, kinda forgot. Oh well, we got another reunion comin up the year after next, so you’ll get ta meet everypony all over again then.”

Releasing Title, who looked like she was feeling pretty awkward being hugged by some stallion she barely knows, Lucky waves towards the house. “Well come on everypony, grandpa’s waitin and ya know how he is when ya ain’t right on time. Court martial ‘n alla that.” As the family follows Lucky into the house he continues, “Only Grandma Caramel’s here today. Grandmas Vino and Sabre are probably bankruptin grandpa up in Filly right now, hittin them fancy shops up and whatnot.”

“Oh that’s such a shame!” Vines says, “I would love to talk to Grandma Vino about her garden. Well, maybe we can come visit again in the spring.”

“That’d be great!” Looking to Deed he adds, “I’ll tell ya, Deed, marryin a mare that’s good in the garden. Smart stallion, cous.”

“Oh yeah, she saves us a fortune on food. Especially now that Cure’s got us all workin out all the time.”

“Yeah? I thought I felt a bit ‘o muscle under that coat a’yers. Good for you. Grandpa will be thrilled somepony else in the family ain’t a slouch,” he adds snickering.

Walking past the foyer, Cure notes the decorations. The house isn’t over-the-top ritzy, but is very nicely decorated with some impressive paintings of the coast, ocean, and boats. Greek-style columns are spaced out every couple body lengths with fresh flowers or an occasional statuette on them.

Leading the family into a well furnished sitting room, Lucky waves to a few couches. Deed’s grandsire is sitting at a desk in an adjacent office that the family can see through an open set of doors. Lucky trots over to him, leans over, says something Cure can’t make out, and comes back in the room. Brick looks up at the family before refocusing on his papers. Meanwhile the family has all taken a seat on the furniture.

Pony couches are not like human couches. There’s no need for a backrest, so they’re more akin to an elevated cushion. Cure can’t recall from his human memories, but the term chaise lounge feels about right. The closest he’d ever had was one part of a sectional couch that he and Cyndi had bought from some furniture store that was going out of business. That one piece was long enough for him to lay down on, even if his feet would dangle off, and had no arm rests or anything but the back on one of the short sides.

These couches are deeper, allowing a pony to lay width-wise and are more heavily constructed so two or even three earth ponies can be side by side without snapping them in half. Each end does have an armrest, but it's more of a body rest, really, that a pony can use as a pillow if they're laying length-wise or to lean against if they're facing off the side.

There’s three couches in the room and a single-seater, smaller couch that he assumes is Brick’s. Vines and Cure hop up on one couch opposite the smaller one while Deed and Title take the couch closest on their left. Lucky makes himself comfortable to Cure and Vines’ right, across from Deed and Title.

After a few minutes Brick finishes whatever he’s working on and walks around his desk. He’s not any larger than Deed, but he has that “hardass old man” look that reminds Cure of Clint Eastwood around that same age, just bigger and more muscular than the western star ever was. Still, the “do not fuck with this pony” sign might as well have been flashing neon and floating over the light brown stallion as he marched his way into the sitting room.

“Clean Deed. Spreading Vines. Title Search. Cure Wave.” Nodding to each as he says their name and getting a nod in return, he enters the room and climbs on his chair facing the family.

“How’ve you been, Deed? Hear anything from that worthless sire of yers?”

“No sir, not since he took off after Cure was born.”

“Figures. Lucky, we haven’t gotten anything from Jackpot in a while, have we?”

“No, grandpa. Not since he moved northwest.”

Grumbling, Brick looks back to Deed. “So, while I’m delighted to hear from the only other grandson I have that hasn’t moved a few thousand klicks away, I’m assuming this isn’t entirely a social call. Is that sorry excuse for a guard giving you any more problems?”

Wide eyed, Deed’s left speechless, as is everypony else in the family. Looking at the four, Brick shrugs, “What? You think some flankhole threatenin my family isn’t gonna get back to me? No way. Bulwark runs a tight ship, but there ain’t no ship on this coast that’s tight enough I wouldn’t hear about that mess.” Smiling slightly towards the colt he adds, “Good job handlin it, Cure. Always know when to call in the cavalry.”

“Thank you, sir,” Cure says, bewildered by the suddenly far more terrifying grandsire.

“He hasn’t given you any more trouble has he? Tailwind Flare, if I’m not mistaken, or more appropriately,” he chuckles, “Washout. The little prick better learn his place down there in Meadow or next time I’ll have his flanks flyin weather patrol over Stalliongrad.”

“No sir. His family came by a few days ago and apologized for the whole incident. His wife said he was really embarrassed by his behavior.”

“Good. He is an embarrassment. I would have chewed some uppity corporal’s wings off for that kinda shit in my squad.” Scowling at nopony he mutters “fucking pigeons” under his breath. Letting out a sigh, Brick asks, “So. If that fiasco is taken care of, what brings you by today?” Turning to Deed and Title he says, “I know it’s not money. From what I’ve seen your business has been taking off lately.”

“Yes sir,” Deed answers, “Last month was better than any quarter we’ve had since we started. We came by for the family, grandpa. Cure has a special talent that we think could really help everypony out.”

“Oh?” he asks, turning to face Cure. “What can ya do, son? I don’t recognize the mark, but I’m guessing you don’t tell snakes what ponies they can bite.”

“No sir, I can heal.”

Brick freezes on the spot and Lucky’s mouth falls open. Turning to the parents one by one, Brick raises a questioning eyebrow until he gets a nod from each. “Well… that is something. We don’t normally get active special talents like that. Especially like that.” Brick shifts on his chair for a moment in thought. Finally he asks, “So how’s it work?”

“I can detect injury, illness, and some defects like cavities, arthritis, poor eyesight, etcetera. It’s like a combination of the diagnostic spells a unicorn would have.”

“Hmm. That by itself is fantastic, son. So once you find a problem I’m guessing you can correct it?”

“Yes sir. I can also recall the scan perfectly. I have an Illusion enchanted crystal that I can project the scans with too.”

With a glance at the parents Brick smirks, saying “Well no wonder you three look like you’ve just finished Basic. Twice. How long did it take for you to shape up?”

“He got his cutie mark on September 2nd,” Title answers.

“A month?” Lucky asks. “Yer frickin foalin, right?”

“Give ‘em a flex, son,” Deed suggests.

Blasting his magic on full, Cure stands and gives Brick and Lucky the full Rodeo Flex.

“Sweet Celestia, colt. How’s healing get ya in shape like that?” Lucky asks as Cure jumps back up next to his dam.

“He can exercise nonstop,” Brick guesses. “How many klicks ya runnin per day?”

“We were doing up to fifteen daily. We stopped at the gym this morning and dad did a 920 kg draft pull.”

With an impressed whistle both ponies give Deed a respectful look. “My best was 1200 even, back in the day. Not bad for a civvy, son,” Brick says. “As for healing, that’s definitely a service I’d be willing to contract with you for. There’s just one thing we need to do first…”

“Demonstration?” Cure asks.

“Demonstration,” Brick agrees. “One of my soldiers had an unfortunate accident a ways back. He was involved in an altercation with an… unwise griffon while on leave in New Horseleans. He’s got a bad limp now, but he’s one of mine, and we look after our own.” With a smile that promises trouble he adds, “Plus he could flatten a city block if he set his mind to it. You mind if I send for him?”

“If we can trust him, sure. I’ve been trying to keep what I can do kinda quiet until we could meet.”

“Why? Somepony tell you that the nobles would drag ya away?” he asks with a scoff. When nopony answers he looks at the grimaces, then facehooves. “Really? They know better.” His face reddening, he snarls, “We’d skin ‘em alive if those uppity pricks tried taking our foals! They’d thank the stars if we found out before Her Highness. Nopony touches a foal on her watch.”

He shifts on the chair a moment while calming down. “Lucky? Go get Blaster in here. Don’t tell him anything, I don’t want to get his hopes up.”

“You bet,” he says as he hops down and trots out of the room.

“How bad does it drain ya?”

“It can be bad, but I don’t have to do everything in one shot.”

“Hmm.”

“Brick?” a mare’s voice calls from another room.

“Ah Tartarus.”

“Brick? Where are you damnit? The kitchen’s all set up.” she yells.

“I’m in the sitting room!”

A moment later an older, chestnut colored mare rounds the corner and walks in the room. Cure guesses that this is Grandma Caramel, and stands to greet the mare, as does the rest of the family. She has a yellow mane just a little lighter than Vines’, probably faded slightly due to age. Her cutie mark is a wrapped candy of some kind floating in front of what looks like a shortcake.

The mare lights up upon seeing the visitors. “Deed, is that you, sweetie? Oh, Vines, honey! You’re all looking so wonderful! Title! Oh goodness, you must be due in a couple months! And this is Cure, right? Brick says some guard gave you a hard time! How are you doing? Got yerself a special filly yet?”

A round of “Hi Grandma Caramel” choruses through the room.

“Doin great, grandma!”
“Thank you, Grandma. You look like you’re doing well too!”
“Yep, due in January. Deed put two in Vines also.”
“Yeah, grandma, kinda. We’re still young though, so we’ll see.”

“Oh? Vines, is it true?” she asks, wrapping her in a hug. “Did you come just to visit? It’s so good to see everypony, especially this cute young stallion!” she says, releasing Vines and grabbing Cure by both cheeks. Everypony, Brick included, smirks at the colt’s expression.

After a good smooshing she takes a seat on Lucky’s vacated couch. The mare looks expectantly at the family until Cure decides to speak up, “Actually, grandma, we’re here to see if I could help the family with my talent. I’m a healer, grandma. I can help ponies with almost anything.”

“Really? That’s amazing!” she says while clapping.

“I sent Lucky to fetch Arcane Blast. We’re going to see if young Cure here can help him with his leg.”

“That would be fantastic! He’s such a nice stallion." With a tisk she adds, "It’s a shame what happened." Refocusing back on the colt she insists, "So Cure, tell us about your little filly friend.”

“Sure, grandma. She’s a unicorn that I’ve been hanging out with a lot lately. Her brother’s gonna try to join the guard come January when he turns sixteen, so they’re running with us every day so he won’t struggle in basic.”

“Ah, Sgt. Haze’s colt, right? Smart of him,” Brick says approvingly, “How’s he shaping up?”

“Good, sir. I’m sure he’ll have no problem. He’s very committed and he’s lighting fast with his runes too.”

“Excellent. Use ‘em right and a good caster can change an entire battle.”

“Oh enough about that!" Grandma Caramel calls over Brick, waving a hoof dismissively. Turning back to Cure she waves at him. "The filly, Cure. Tell me about her!”

“She’s my age, ma’am, and she’s got a pretty orange coat and a red mane like fire. I tease her by callin her Sunrise, but her name’s Dawn Glow. She’s a real good caster, like her brother, but with her workin to get in shape early I think she’ll end up with a bit more power than he can put out right now.”

“Got yerself a little boomer, don’t ya?” Brick asks with a smile. “Good on ya, son. Just don’t piss her off if you want to keep that tail where it belongs. You know what they say about the fiery ones.”

“Hot and crazy go hoof and hoof?”

Brick stops to consider, then nods in acceptance. “Well… that’s not wrong either I suppose.”

“Brick…” Caramel says warningly with a glare.

“Alright, alright, I’ll keep it clean.” Turning back to Cure he explains, “You got the gist of it, son. The hotter they run, the wilder the fun, but you watch yer flank, or you’ll end up well done,” he rattles off flatly. Facing back to his wife he waves at Cure saying, “See? Not inappropriate at all.”

“Mhmm…” she deadpans back, “I’m sure that’s exactly what you were going to say, too.”

“Close enough,” he mutters as Lucky trots back in the room, followed by a blue coated unicorn with a dark red mane. He looks like he’s a little older than Dawn’s parents; maybe in his early 40s, and has a few visible scars on his forelegs near his hooves. His mark depicts three yellow comets or fireballs in an echelon flying forwards and down slightly.

Arcane Blast is about an inch shorter than Binder is, but he’s clearly spent a lot more time exercising than the orange librarian. He’s not nearly as wide as Deed has gotten, but as far as unicorns go, the stallion seems like he’s towards the upper end of the fitness curve, injured leg or not.

The limp Brick mentioned is quite pronounced. If Cure had to guess offhoof he would assume the injury happened at the same time as the rest of the scars, which put him in mind of defensive wounds a pony would get from a knife fight. That doesn’t strike him as the type of fight that both combatants walk away from with all their parts intact.

Lucky sits down on the floor beside Brick’s chair while Arcance stands, basically, at attention in front of him. “You called, cap?”

“I did. Arcane, I want you to meet my grandson, Clean Deed, his wives Spreading Vines and Title Search, and his son Cure Wave.” Arcane gives a quick greeting to each as they’re pointed to by Brick.

“Everypony, this is Arcane Blast; the best caster I had the pleasure to serve with. He was the top artillery unicorn in the division until some feather duster tried to jump him after a drunken bet.” With a predatory smile he looks to Arcane and asks, “The squaker got what he had coming, didn’t he, Blaster?”

“You bet, cap. He ain’t gettin off the ground ever again. Nice ta meet ya, everypony. You treat me like family, ya hear? You need a hoof, you say the word. The captain’s been like a second father ta me.” Looking back to Brick he asks, “So what can I do for ya, cap?”

“The colt, Arcane,” he answers, waving at Cure. “I don’t want you getting your hopes up, but they say he’s got a special talent to heal. I was hoping you would let him take a look at your leg. It comes with a scanning spell, though, like the medics used, so, you know…”

“He’ll be gettin a good look at everythin, will he? Ya sure yer alright with that, son? Nopony wants to see alla this mess,” he says, waving at himself.

“The first pony he used it on was his sire, he’ll be fine,” Title says, causing a room full of cringes.

“My mom’s right, sir. I’m gonna be a healer. I’ll see way worse than anything you can imagine, I’m sure, and I keep it professional when I’m on the job.”

Nodding in satisfaction, Arcane sits down and holds a hoof out to Cure, “Have at it, kiddo. Can’t say I didn’t warn ya.”

Cure jumps down from the couch, trots over to, and sits down in front of the stallion, then grabs his hoof. Activating his mark shows that the legs were not the only place that got a little too friendly with something sharp. The stallion has some decent scarring hidden under his coat on his chest as well, it’s just not as obvious until he sits down. His limp is from a severed ligament in his knee along with some cartilage damage and a floating chip of bone behind the patella.

“Dude… doesn’t that hurt? Why didn’t they fix yer knee with surgery?”

“Doc said it was too f... messed up. I coulda had the surgery, still woulda limped though. What’s the point?” With a slight snarl he adds, “That twat bird ended my career over a fifty bit bet. I shoulda taken his balls and his wings.” With a grateful nod to Brick he adds, “Cap took me in, though, so no complaints.”

“You don’t let talent like yours get away, Arcane. I’ve said it a million times. Those idiots at command shoulda promoted you and had you teaching the next generation to sling plasma like you can.”

With a proud smile Arcane shrugs, “Guess they lack vision, cap. What can ya do?”

“Well, I can fix your knee. It won’t take more than about ten minutes or so. You’ve got a few other minor issues I can fix up while I’m at it, too, if ya want. Your vision’s degraded a bit, so has your hearing… I’m guessing from the explosions in your spells?”

Beaming a big smile, Arcane just nods.

“What about the scars? Keep or fix?”

“Eh, don’t worry bout those, son. The mares love ‘em anyhow,” he says while preening.

“Alright, you may wanna close your eyes a second, I’ll do them first but it may be a bit disorienting havin the world shift on ya. Just sit still or, better yet, hop up on the couch. I don’t want that leg movin while I’m working on it anyhow.”

The unicorn climbs up on the couch next to Grandma Caramel, sitting so they’re touching sides. The mare doesn’t hesitate to give the smaller unicorn a friendly nuzzle. Cure follows and lays down right beside him. Giving the unicorn the full treatment, minus the scar removal, takes almost ten minutes.

There wasn't really much to be done; Cure cleaned up the joint a bit, but the only healing there was fusing the bone back together and repairing the ruined cartilage. If he had to guess he figures the griffon must have jumped on top of the unicorn and tried to thrash him with his talons.

After getting a better look he realizes the scars are too wide to be a knife, and there’s less visible, smaller ones, on either side of where the center talon must have found purchase. The knee was probably hurt during the tackle itself, as there’s no obvious cutting injury on the skin over the area and Cure can’t think of a way that a swipe would cause the damage.

Once the bone and cartilage are fixed up he steals a little fat from the unicorn to repair the ligament and sets everything in place. Hearing, eyes, knee, and other onsetting arthritis issues addressed, he declares the treatment done. Arcane steps off the couch to see how it went and Grandma Caramel is quick to reach over and pull Cure into her side with a loving nuzzle, leaving a leg draped over his withers.

“Sweet Celestia, colt. I woulda killed ta have ya fifteen years ago.” Blinking and moving his ears around while looking about, Arcane is clearly happy with all the changes. He does a few four-legged push ups, trots around the room for a moment, then comes back and wraps Cure in a half-hug, reaching around Grandma Caramel's leg. “Son you just say the word, anything you need, you got it.” Dropping back down, he glances at the parents and adds, “That means any of ya. You need a horn, I’m yer unicorn, ya got it?”

“Wonderful. Truly wonderful,” Brick claps his forehooves. “I’ve heard of some master healers at the Assembly that can clean up some minor wounds, but when we looked into it for Arcane we couldn’t find anypony capable of doing that. Damned impressive, colt. Caramel, dear?”

“Hmm?”

“Cure’s probably a bit tired after that, how bout you take him and his dam for a treat. The four of us,” he indicates Deed, Title, and Lucky, “are gonna talk business. Lucky, have a seat,” he says, waving to the couch Cure and Caramel are about to vacate.

As she stands up she gives Cure a nudge. “Sure thing, sweetie. Don’t be long, it’s a Saturday after all. Come along, Vines, dear.”

“I’ll stick with the colt unless ya need me, boss. Could use a snack myself after alla that.”

Brick waves Arcane away and the four ponies leave him, Lucky, Deed and Title behind as they follow Grandma Caramel to the kitchen.

The kitchen itself is roughly the size of the main level of the family’s home and has a four-pony table already set up with a variety of pastries. Caramel waves the two to the table while Arcane floats a booster for Cure from a closet that was in the hallway.

With a hoof on what appears to be an actual refrigerator Caramel calls over. “Anypony want anything to drink? We have orange, apple, cranberry, or grapefruit juice and milk. Or water, of course.”

“Milk, please,” Cure answers.
“Just water, please, grandma.”

“I’m fine, ma’am. Actually, lemme get that for ya,” Arcane says, waving to a seat for the mare.

“Oh, thank you Arcane, dear. Such a good stallion.” Caramel sits across from Cure, next to Vines, and the two start chatting about foals or something. Cure doesn’t really pay attention and is instead focused on the arrangement of donuts, crepes, and several fruit, custard, and/or cream filled confections lined up in front of him.

Setting the drinks on the table, Arcane joins the three on Cure’s left. “Have at it, colt. Ya gotta sugar up after heavy spellwork, ya know?”

“Yep. A snack and a nap usually get me right back to full." Cure stuffs a few treats in his mouth. After washing it down with some milk he looks to Arcane Blast. "Say, mister?”

“Just call me Blaster, kiddo, none 'a that mister stuff.”

“Okay. Do you ever go to a firing range to practice? My filly friend and her brother go sometimes but I haven’t had a chance to go with ‘em yet.”

“Oh yeah, absolutely. Gotta stay in practice, ya know? Ya stop hittin the runes right if ya don’t, then somethin bad can happen.”

“I’m startin to get into enchanting a bit. I was wonderin if you have any good stunning spells that aren’t restricted that you could share.”

“Oh yeah, sure. Stunning and sleep spells aren’t that kind of restricted. It’s only when you get inta the wide area stuff that you start runnin inta problems. Any slinger worth their salt can stun and shield and stuff. I’ll send some good stuff home with ya, can’t have anypony messin with the healer after all. Never did much enchantin myself, figured I could just fire away, yanno?”

“Yeah, no doubt. That would be great, Blaster. Thanks!”

The two fall into silence while Cure stuffs his face. Blaster helps himself as well, and after a few minutes he starts telling Cure about some of his time in the service before he was discharged. Frankly, it sounds pretty boring for the most part.

The squad he was with was, like grandpa Brick of course, stationed towards the south of Equestria. The ponies more-or-less worked a 32 hour week, with different squads taking over patrols north of the Appaloosa Mountains, or standing guard in the city or at Dodge as needed. Every two months they would get a week of leave to head off and do whatever.

Overall it seemed pretty chill, but Cure supposes that’s normal when a nation’s been at peace for over a hundred years and has a nuclear deterrent wearing the crown.

Apparently the squad was on leave in New Horseleans when “the incident” happened, but Blaster apparently had some trauma and didn’t really talk about what happened; just that they had a wild evening of drinking and gambling before shit got crazy and a harmless bet escalated too far.

“Cure, sweetie?” Vines calls, pulling Cure out of a bit of a sugar stupor. “Do you want to take a nap, honey? You look like you’re a little sleepy.”

“They’ve had enough time to chat. Let’s take them some treats and let this one rest a bit. All that sugar’s probably given him the sleepies. Blaster, would you be a dear and clean up their plates?”

“You bet, grandma.”

Carrying a platter on her back, Caramel leads the two back to the sitting room where it seems like the four ponies have come to some kind of agreement. She sets the tray on a table between Deed and Brick. Title immediately moseys over and picks a few things while Vines, Caramel, and Cure climb on a couch with him in the middle. Surrounded by warm bodies on both sides and, with a belly full of milk and sugar, he leans into Vines and promptly falls asleep.

The gentle rocking motion slowly brings Cure back to wakefulness. He looks around, noting they’re still in Baltimare, but it looks like they’re almost to the station. Feeling his son moving on his withers, Deed looks back and says, “Welcome back, champ. How ya feelin?”

“Eh, not bad. Wanna let me down? I can walk.”

Deed squats down low enough for Cure to easily hop off and the family continues on their way.

“So, what’d I miss?”

“Not a lot,” Title says, “We worked out a deal with Brick while you were stuffin yer face. He has a few associates that have this or that injury they’ll send your way. We didn’t ask for any money, but he insisted that what yer doin is valuable, so if there’s anything you want or need don’t hesitate to ask. He offered…” she trails off with a grimace.

“A lot,” Deed finishes for her. “He’s settin up a trust for three quarters of the money to go into that you can have when yer fifteen, but even the 25% is generous. Enough that I kinda felt bad, we kept insisting you just wanted to help the family, but he says yer family and he’s gotta look after you too.”

I’m not totally convinced that dude isn’t a mobster. The guard, the gate, the house, the grounds, the art… even the name. It all just give me that “mobster” vibe. Whatever, I’ll be healing ponies, not doin drive-bys, so who cares. Nopony touches the white mage anyhow.

“Did Blaster send anything home with ya?”

“Yep, got yerself a lil spellbook in my bag,” he says, smiling at Title who grumbles under her breath.

With a curious look to his dam she explains, “They bet how fast you’d ask about it. Your sire said within the first three questions. That was number three even if we count the first one.”

“HA! C’mon, mom, really?”

“I figured you’d ask a question or two about the money.”

“Seriously? How much interest have I shown in money versus magic?”

Instead of answering she just hangs her head.

“You just stink at gambling, don’t you?”

“Shattap, brat.”

“What were the stakes? Not another lousy massage, I assume.”

That gets a glare over her withers at the colt. He just smiles back. “Don’t give me those looks, I’ve given you all a massage basically every weekend, so you got no reason to shoot me dirty looks.”

Title tilts her head back and forth in thought and, after reaching the conclusion he’s right, looks forwards again while walking. “I hafta make breakfast tomorrow, and I can’t burn it. It has to be good,” she finishes with a snort.

“And not eat it all before anypony else gets any…” Deed quietly mumbles, getting a whack on his flank from her tail.

The family quiets as they approach the train station. Cure and his moms sit on a bench while Deed gets tickets. About fifteen minutes later the train pulls in and everypony piles on to head home.

Everypony is barely through the door before Cure has his horn in hoof and is getting situated with the book that Blaster sent home. Curious what all is in there, Title lays mostly on top of him and is looking over his head at the spells. It’s obvious that the stallion is a military trained battlemage; the first few pages detail out a number of spells that are restricted without giving their diagrams, but still give insight into how they work.

Cure looks at the description of chain Lightning; a great example. He knows from video games that chain lightning is an electric blasting spell that jumps from one target to another. Cure figures that due to the lack of video games in this time period, the description about how it jumps and how dangerous it can be in a crowded battlefield wouldn’t be common knowledge for ponies.

Lightning bolt, a much lower level spell, is not restricted though, mainly because it’s an aimed, single target attack similar to the typical “magic bolt” attack that any unicorn can use just by blasting magic up and out of their horn. Not being restricted does not, in any way, mean that it can be used except in defense; just that knowing the spell alone is not a crime in itself.

Of course, it’s not like anypony is going around reading ponies’ minds, so knowing a restricted spell, while technically illegal, only becomes an issue if you do something with it, but that's the case with any harmful spell anyhow.

Basically any multi-target or area of effect spell that is harmful appears on the restricted list, especially ones that are not directed like Poison Spray, which is exactly what the name implies. That’s a cantrip level spell, but is essentially the same as shooting a weak nerve gas out of a horn; something the crown does not approve of.

Between the spell book from Baltimare, which is due back in ten days, and Blaster’s book, Cure now has access to a wide variety of “low/mid level” spells. Included are magic missile, the aforementioned lightning bolt, fire bolt, light beam, frost ray, ice dart, stun, repair, stone shape, several shields and armor spells, alarm, web, slow fall, and of course, prestidigitation. Several of those would wear him out after just a few shots at anything but the lowest power level, sadly.

The library book also had some higher level spells, but Cure doesn’t expect to be able to cast transmutation or conjuration without passing out anytime soon unless he’s working on a very small item.

With the problem of selection addressed, Cure now faces another issue.

“How the hell am I going to memorize all this crap?”

“I could help ya with that,” Title smugly whispers from on top of Cure.

“What? How? You know some kinda mnemonic trick or somethin?”

“Uhh... not sure what that means, but I do know a trick. I gotta ask, though," she says, smiling down on Cure from above. "What’s in it for me?”

“Uhh… access to anything I make?”

“Meh, already got that.”

“More massages?”

“Those are nice, but no… I’m thinkin something else.”

“You want me to take over making breakfast for you, don’t you?”

“Yep! Don’t worry, I’ll help.”

“You realize I would help you whenever you ask either way, right?”

“Yeah, I know, I just wanna prove that I’m smarter than you, though.”

“Oh?”

“Yep. Go ahead and say it and I’ll tell you how you can memorize any spell easily after just one look.”

“Fine, ya know what? If you can tell me that then you are smarter than me.”

“Saaaay it!” she teases in a sing-song voice.

“Title Search is the smartest pony I’ve ever met. She’s definitely smarter than me, even if she is a big bully cannibal meanie.”

“Good enough. It’s real simple, Cure. Scan the spell.”

Scrunching up his snout in thought he waves at the books, “I can’t scan nonorganic things. Only living tissue.”

“Like a piece of wood?” she asks, the smile coming through in her voice alone.

“...”

“There we go. I saw them ears perk up. Finally got it, huh?”

Leaping out from under her, Cure turns around and wraps his forelegs around his mom in a hug and gives her a big wet kiss on her cheek. “Ya know what, credit where it’s due. You are smarter than me. Sometimes. Not when gambling, though.” Releasing the mare and running out the door, he calls “Be right back!” over his withers.

Cure runs out to the maple tree in a dead sprint, drawing a look from his dam who’s poking around in the garden. “Mom had an idea!” he shouts while putting his hooves on the tree. With a quick activation of his mark he has the tree shed a thin layer of still-living wood from the trunk about as tall and wide as he is, then quickly repairs the bark over the area.

He runs back in the house, holding it on his back like a cape and slides to a stop in front of the pink mare. With the magic missile spell open, he lays the sheet of wood out flat, then uses his talent to replicate the spell’s diagram on the wood by darkening the pigmentation like written ink. With a double check for accuracy, he verifies it’s correct, then scans it with his talent.

“This is cheating so hard. You’re brilliant, mom!”

“I know,” she says while huffing on a hoof and wiping it on her chest. “I really am.”

With his tail wagging like a happy puppy, Cure goes through the diagrams of every spell in both books. He doesn’t need it for his talent, but he figures it may make it easier to project the diagram with an illusion spell, so he also adds a label and small description of each spell at the top of the page before locking them in.

“This is so totally unfair. I can’t believe I never thought of it! Now I can encode the spells into crystals and you all can charge them up for me, too. Friggin badass. So, mom?”

“Hmm?”

“Several of the spells I scanned aren’t offensive. There’s a number of utility spells too. Repair, conjuration, transmutation, shape stone, and of course the cleaning spells that I need to upgrade for dam to prestidigitation. Start thinkin of things around the house that could be improved because I can write the crystal or, if it’s too high level for that, the scroll, you all can power it, and we can start making major improvements where needed.”

“Yeah? Like what?”

“How would you like a real refrigerator like Grandma Caramel had in her kitchen? Well, I could make one with some wood shaping, transmutation, and a prestidigitation crystal chilling it, just like I have the stovetop heating instead of having to burn wood.”

“That would be nice. We’ll hafta talk to yer dam and sire. Vines spends more time in the house than any of us, so she’ll know best what we need. Speaking of yer sire, shouldn’t he be getting ready to go?”

“OH! Wow, I lost track of time there, didn’t I?”

“Ya got a tad absorbed, yeah. Well we better go find em. Take yer horn off when you run outside this time, genius.”

“Whoops. No wonder dam looked at me funny.”

Deed had gone upstairs to take a quick nap and was ready to go within a few minutes of Cure and Title finding him passed out in bed. Title stayed behind, but the two stallions were making their way to Emerald Aura and Gleaming Haze’s house at a steady canter to meet with them about Cure’s ability to help either or both of them out at their jobs.

“So,” Cure starts as the two leave the park and enter town, “the meeting today went better than I dared hope, even if it did start out kinda terrifying.”

“It did. I was not expectin that, I hafta admit.”

“I guess putting a couple decades into the guard gets ya connections,” Cure notes with a shrug. "He clearly had some kinda briefing prepared after he got your letter. Either that or he's been keepin tabs on ya. I have my doubts it's the latter, though, since he didn't seem to know about anything that wouldn't generate paperwork, like our runs."

“Sounds that way. It also sounds like Tailwind may have gotten off easy.”

“Yeah…”

“Son, when ya go to heal anypony he sends over… just be respectful, okay? I got some weird vibes there, ya know?”

“Oh, definitely. I know names aren’t everything, but both his real name and what he goes by have connotations from human literature.”

“Yeah?”

“Yep. Brick Top is a crime lord in one story, and Vita Clarion is damned close to a crime lord’s name in another story. It’s also pretty unusual for a pony name, honestly.”

“Yeah, he hates the name, that’s why he changed it to Brick when he got his cutie mark.”

“Still… implications unpleasant.”

“Just don’t do anything to piss ‘em off. He’s bein ridiculously generous towards ya. Then again, you’re almost certainly the best healer on the planet, so… yeah. That’s almost as good as bein able to call on the princess herself. Better, if yer sick I suppose.”

“I’m pretty sure she can heal, dad.”

“Ya think?”

“I do. Remember, she’s attached to the sun. I don’t know what all concepts that touches on, but purification, life, healing… they’re all associated with the sun. I’d be shocked if she doesn’t have a few healing spells she can toss around, but given that the military doesn’t distribute them they’re probably horribly inefficient. Or they require calling upon her domain, which others can’t do.”

“Wanna swing by Lemon’s on the way? It’s just over there.” Deed asks, waving towards the train station.

“Nah, I do need to go over to her and Amy’s house and let them know the good news, though.”

“Yer dam already did. She stopped by while ya were at school the day after we got back.”

“Oh. Why didn’t she tell me?”

Shrugging, Deed says, “Dunno. Forgot maybe? We should really get you set up with the clinic first anyhow. She may not want to put too much on ya at once.”

“I guess, but those cosmetic things are usually really fast, easy, and profitable. I could probably make more money off of that than you and mom could just because there’s so little competition. Maybe you should start lookin for a bigger house if dam and mom are gonna be pumpin out foals left and right.” With a tease in his voice he adds, “Especially if yer gonna end up with two more wives to take care of.”

Deed’s ears turn a little red and he can’t help but smile a little.

“Oh ho! So I wasn’t far off, huh?”

“We’ve talked about it. Yer moms and I. If they approach us it’ll probably happen. I guess we will need a bigger house then, though.”

“Well I’d be thrilled to have Cherry and Lotus officially be my little sisters, so if you all wanted my opinion on it I say go ahead. It may be a little weird calling them each mom, though, given how old I am now.”

“I don’t think they’d mind Amy and Lemon, son. They understand you’re older than most foals in a joining like that.”

“Yeah. Well, here we are…” Cure says while approaching the house. He knocks and waits a moment before Dawn opens it and waves them both in.

“Hey Cure, hi Mr. Deed. Come on in and take a seat. I’ll go get my parents.”

The two walk into the living room where Solar is already waiting for them. Like Brick, the unicorns have actual sofas instead of just cushions on the floor, something Cure suddenly is conscious of that he hadn’t really thought of before. Cure gives Solar a quick hoof bump and joins his sire on one of the couches which are arranged in a not-quite-enclosed triangle with the opening facing the fireplace.

Taking the initiative, Solar asks, “How’d your meeting go earlier?”

“Good. Dad’s grandsire was like… scarily well informed. He knew all about the whole Tailwind thing, he knows yer sire, he knows Sgt. Bulwark. Despite that, it went almost as well as I think it possibly could have. Conveniently, he had a unicorn… I dunno? Guard? What would you call Blaster, dad?”

“Uhh, I believe the term he used was associate.”

“Well, whatever he was, he used to be in Grandpa Brick’s unit, got hurt, was discharged, and ended up workin for him ever since. No clue what he does, but he’s an old school battlemage; somepony I don’t think you wanna give a reason to be mad at ya. He sent home a spellbook with some safe-to-know spells and mom came up with a way for me to cheat and memorize them all.”

“Yeah… that sounds like your ridiculous luck. How’s that work?”

“Ya didn’t mention that to me, son. What’d yer mom come up with?”

“Well, my scans are perfect copies of whatever I use it on, right?”

“Yeah.”
“Uh huh.”

“So I just got a thin piece of bark offa the tree outside and altered the pigments to match the diagrams. Dad? Crystal?”

“Here.”

Cure projects spell after spell directly from his memory, with a label and spell description at the top and the runic diagram underneath.

“So unfair…”

“Oh please, like yer not benefiting from all this. You’re gonna be in better shape than any of those older unicorns and yer still growing. By the time you’re seventeen or so you’ll be an absolute beast.”

Cure had abandoned almost all subtlety with the siblings since he had revealed the true extent of his abilities almost three weeks prior. They still ran at least twice a week, but he basically got the same treatment that the parents had, with his consent of course. The result wasn’t as drastic as with his parents, but within another month both would be within the top percent or two of what a unicorn could ever hope to achieve at their respective ages.

Both still had the disadvantage of not being earth ponies when it came to physical strength and endurance, but no other unicorn in their age groups could possibly come close to their level of physical fitness, and it was very unlikely that any other unicorn could cast like they can now, though Dawn was still missing out on the structural enhancements that showed up on her sire’s scanning spells.

“True, I certainly can’t complain. Two more months, dude. I can’t believe I’m ready with so much time to spare. I really was worried I would wash out and have to wait a year.”

Just as Solar is finishing up Emerald Aura, Gleaming Haze, and Dawn enter the room. Dawn, of course, hops up to lean against Cure’s right side closest to Solar while Emerald and Haze take the sofa opposite of Deed and the two foals.

With greetings exchanged Cure starts the conversation. “First off, thank you both for meeting with us. The reason I had asked Dawn and Solar to speak to you is that I’ve recently gotten some good news and felt I was secure enough to finally start telling ponies not in the know about some of the things I can do.”

Emerald doesn’t allow him time to give any kind of explanation. “What do you mean by that?”

Choosing to ignore the rudeness, Cure opts to extend an olive branch as he had with Wind Shear. “Before I explain, I owe you an apology, Mrs. Aura. I took umbrage with the fact that when meeting you the first time you took the opportunity to interrogate the, presumably, first colt your daughter brought around. I admit, I had a little fun at your expense as a result and for that I do apologize.”

“My feelings for Dawn are real though.” Cure gives Dawn an affectionate nuzzle, something she clearly wasn’t expecting. “I recognize that we’re young and life could have other plans for us, but for now I consider Dawn my very best friend and, in time, possibly more if she feels the same way.”

“Well said, son,” Deed says with a shoulder nudge.

“A parent’s duty is to watch out for their foal, Cure. Someday when you have children, I’m sure you’ll understand.”

“I do understand, Mrs. Aura, I just don’t agree that the correct way to watch out for a filly is to immediately question an interested colt about his parents’ financial success, especially when he’s eight years old. Twelve? Fifteen? Yes, that’s an appropriate time to start taking a potential relationship more seriously. I feel like eight is awfully young for that.”

Emerald makes a face as if she’s eaten a particularly bitter lemon. Before she has enough time to come up with a response her husband puts a hoof on her side to get her attention. With a small shake of his head he stops her from continuing the disagreement.

“My wife is just protective of her only daughter, Cure. Perhaps she was a little too enthusiastic with that, but she just wants what’s best for her.”

“If we ended up together I assure you that Dawn would never want for anything. That’s one of the reasons I wanted to speak to both of you. My intention is to offer my services to either the local clinic or perhaps the hospital in Baltimare and the guard as needed.”

“Services? To what? Help patients exercise?” Emerald snidely asks, getting another bump and a scowl from Haze.

“I told you that my special talent is to help ponies get healthy. I never told you how I go about doing so. I can heal ponies, Mrs. Aura. That is a big part of my special talent.”

“Heal?” Haze asks. “Like… actual healing magic?”

Rather than answering directly, Cure tilts his head in their son’s direction while asking, “When’s the last time Solar needed to ice his knees?”

Haze looks at Solar and thinks for a second. “Now that you mention it… your knees aren’t hurting, son? You’ve been running an awful lot more and I haven’t seen you icing them.”

“They haven’t been for weeks. Cure healed them the first few days we ran.” Waving a hoof at the younger colt he continues, “He’s why I’m in as good of shape as I am. He ran us ten to fifteen km every night and healed us up to keep us movin. Look at this,” he says, standing and flexing his pecs.

Haze grimaces at the distances, then takes a good look at his son, daughter, the colt, and his sire. It doesn’t take a genius to realize that every one of them is in fantastic physical condition. “Huh… no wonder you’re both eating so much lately.”

“I was under the impression that healing magic is almost impossible. There’s no one “heal” spell. Especially…” she trails off as Solar speaks up.

“He can heal, dam,” he insists as he lays back down. “I’ve seen it a dozen times now. Trust me, he can do everything he says he can. You’re being way too hard on him because he teased you a little bit when you first met. Be fair; that’s what you always tell us to do.”

Dawn, who’s been quiet the whole time, turns her big doe eyes on her dam and quietly says, “I like Cure. He’s smart and funny and helpful. Is it because he’s not a unicorn?”

Emerald grimaces when everypony looks at her. “Well…” she starts before being interrupted by her son.

“Is that why you didn’t like Honey Sweet?” Solar asks with a scowl, “I really liked her, dam!”

“Now, son,” Haze starts before being interrupted by Deed.

“I… think maybe we should go, son.”

“Yeah. Good talk, everypony. Solar, Dawn. I hope you still come by tomorrow. We should be home all day, right dad?”

“Yep, whenever you want to drop in, feel free.”

Dawn walks Deed and Cure out to the front of the house. With his hearing he can pick up scraps of the argument that’s started inside, but there’s nothing being said he’s wanting to hear.

The poor filly looks like she doesn’t know what to do, so Cure sits on his haunches and pulls her into a side hug, resting his chin just above her eyes with his soft cheek beside her horn, gently brushing against it. Deed steps away to give them a moment of privacy, sitting on his haunches by the street with his back to them, blocking anypony else’s view.

“Geez, first Crosswind’s sire, now your dam. Maybe I’m just horrible at meeting my friends’ parents. I swear I only teased her a little! I’m sorry, Sunrise.”

Dawn leans into the hug and slowly turns her head to rub her horn along his cheek, careful not to stab him with the tip. “No, this isn’t your fault. I don’t think the teasing even mattered. You’re right; she shouldn’t have acted like that.”

“You gonna be okay? Wanna come with me to Lemon’s or go for a sundae?”

Dawn lets out a deep sigh. “That sounds a lot better than going back in there, but no… not tonight. I gotta make sure my brother doesn’t get too worked up.”

Giving her a soft squeeze, Cure lets go with another nuzzle. “I understand. Stay strong, Dawn. If it gets ugly you can both come over. I don’t think it’ll go that far, but just know that you can if ya need to.”

“Yeah… thanks, Cure. I’m sorry about my dam.” She turns and walks to the house, calling “I’ll see you tomorrow” over her withers. Cure hears yelling when the door opens, then it’s abruptly cut off when it closes again with Dawn inside.

Ears sagging, Cure walks down to join his sire, then leans heavily against the dark stallion’s side. “I don’t think I’m very good with the mares, pa. Maybe I oughta stick to magic.”

Deed drapes a foreleg around his son, scrunching him into his side. “Magic’s a whole lot less confusin than mares, son.” Deed lets out a deep sigh before continuing. “Give it time. If it’s meant to be…” he says, trailing off with a waved hoof.

“Wise words, pa,” he says, nuzzling his sire’s side. “Wise words.”

Author's Note

Ever been at someone's house when an in-family fight breaks out? Fun times.

So we finally have the long-anticipated Brick meeting, Cure finds out why Emerald was so quick to question him, and Deed acting like Deed prevents him from getting the numbers he's been dying to get. Poor Cure! Only went one for three today. Oh well, Title's cheat more than makes up for it if ya ask me.

The next two chapters will take place over the next two days, then we get to our first holiday about a week and a half later.

Regardless, that'll be the last chapter of the story for probably two weeks or so. 31 through 33 are mostly ready, I just need to do some tweaking here and there, but unless I find some spare time to really get in and go over them it'll most likely be the 29th before 31 comes out.

If I don't see everyone before then, have a Happy Thanksgiving or whatever country-appropriate holiday happens between now & then.

Chapter 30: Embrace the Suck

Sunday, October 5th, 908 AB (the next afternoon)

After last night’s disappointing meeting, Cure had definitely felt a little down. He spent the morning looking over spells and studying the book he’d bought in Canterlot, trying to figure out where he could make little changes here and there, but aside from finding nearly-identical patterns in spells that were also in the book he didn’t really make any progress.

While working on the “Spell Scanner Mark II” idea he hears a knock at the door. With a quick scenting he identifies the ponies as Dawn and Solar, so he doesn’t bother removing his horn before opening it to let them in. “Hey Dawn, hey Solar. I didn’t expect you two so soon after… ya know. You both alright?”

Only bothering to float one guest mat out of the closet, Cure stacks his parents’ mats off to the side and lays it out as the two walk in, then shuts the door with his levitation behind them.

Walking up to him, Dawn leans into a nuzzle that turns into a hug, “We’re fine. It got pretty ugly last night, but… we’ll get through it.”

“Yeah, dude… are you okay? I uhh… I’m really sorry how my dam acted. I guess I’d never really thought about it beforehoof, but once sis said something it just kinda clicked. Probably not the best time for it, though, so … yeah,” he finishes with a wince while flopping on a mat.

“Nah, I’m fine,” he insists. “I’m not gonna lie, that’s not how I expected it to go, but these things happen.”

Dawn lets go of Cure, brushing down his side as she goes to lay on his mat, getting a fond smile from Solar. “What in the hay are you working on, Cure?” she asks, looking over the assembled materials.

“I’ll show ya in a sec. You two want anything to drink? A snack or anything?”

“Nah, we ate lunch just a little bit ago. Thanks though.”

“Cool. Is yer sire okay with me at least? I don’t wanna say something to upset ya, but he looked like he was gettin kinda pissed at yer dam last night before we left.”

“He’s got no problem with ya. He actually wanted to talk to you about your offer, but we didn’t tell them we were comin over, just that we were goin out. He probably knows, but he’s got afternoon patrol, so...” he trails off with a shrug. “You should totally go with one of your parents to the station, though. Just ask for an appointment with Sgt. Bulwark if he’s not free to see you when you show up. I think he’s there most evenings.”

“Sounds good. Maybe I’ll meet my sire after he gets off work tomorrow and head over there. Dunno, I’ll hafta talk to him first. My mom or dam may wanna go too, just to know what’s goin on firsthoof." Focusing back on Dawn, he explains, "So… as far as what I’m workin on here…” Cure holds up the sheet of bark he’d removed from the tree yesterday. “This is, for my purposes, a sheet of paper, okay?”

Getting attentive nods he continues, “This,” holding up a pot with a plant in it, “is a branch that fell off the maple tree out back, which is also where the sheet came from. My dam and I tweaked the branch right before they went into town to get groceries, so it has some roots and kind of a diffused vein thing going on, right?”

“Ah, this is the thing you talked about last night,” Solar says, getting a questioning look from Dawn. “He’s cheating. He’d mentioned this last night, but I kinda forgot with everything that happened afterwards. My bad, dude.”

Cure waves away the issue. “Meh, no problem. So what I was just about to do is take this sheet and merge it with these veins, thus keeping the sheet alive so I can use it to write with. Sort of.”

Dawn looks over the setup slightly bewildered. “Why would you do that, though?”

“Just watch. I’m about to show you my second or third most awesome cheat, roughly. I haven’t actually sat down and ranked ‘em yet. It’s up there either way!” he declares, pointing a hoof high in the air. Done with the showponyship, he places the sheet against the mesh surface while powering his horn.

With his talent acting on both pieces he merges the sheet to the branch and the supporting array of veins, making the sheet look similar to a square shaped leaf, but with straighter lines like a ruled piece of paper. “Viola!” he declares.

Focusing back on his task, he picks a spell he already knows inside and out. First, at the top the word "Light" appears centered and in large letters, then, in smaller print, "Prepared 05 OCT 908AB" appears below it. From there on a brief description of the spell is written out. Next, the actual runic formula for the spell appears.

Once the runes are finished Cure adds lighter brackets around certain rune sequences with lines trailing to the side, boxing in alternative sequences that can change the color, focal direction, or origin point for the light, all with brief explanations of the effect. Other areas are noted where additional power can be expended to increase the brightness or duration if the caster is not going to actively channel the spell.

The end result is the most detailed and thorough version of a spell diagram Solar has ever seen.

“This is what I was gonna spend the next few hours doing. Now check this out.” Casting the Illusion spell, he recreates a perfect facsimile of the sheet hovering in the air for both unicorns. Floating over a quill, normal ink, and a piece of paper, he copies the spell onto the page and passes it to Solar to look over.

“You’re absolute cow manure,” the colt says.

Dawn finally catches on as well. “Wait, you can scan spells if they’re on something that’s alive?”

“Yep. Perfect memorization, too, since I’m leveraging my talent. At some point I’ll probably find a better spell to “imprint” something from a crystal into another pony’s memory too, so I’m hopeful I can come up with a whole series of teaching crystals that will take a typical pony and turn them into a walking library of spells with minimal effort on their part.”

Done reviewing the spell diagram, Solar passes it back to Cure. “I know there’s spells that let you view another pony’s memories. I’ve only heard of them, though. They take a lot of magic, so I doubt you’ll be able to do those anytime soon. Not without passing out, at least.”

“Have you ever tried group casting?”

Solar shakes his head no. “You only do that for rituals and stuff, like they used to do for the sun before the princess or for group teleportation. A pony that’s good at the spell can move several ponies all providing power. Why?”

“It works with closely bonded ponies, so you and your dam, sire, or maybe even Dawn. I don’t know the exact requirements, but you two seem pretty close for siblings, so I bet it would work. It works with my mom and I and I’ve only even known her a few years. Love her to bits, though, so…” he finishes with a shrug.

“So basically you can borrow their magic to make the crystals. Yeah, that sounds like it should work fine. You really do cheat, don’t you?”

“At literally every single opportunity, yes. If you’re not cheating, you’re not trying.”

“I’ll be sure to never play cards with you then,” Solar jokes with a teasing smile.

“HA! I know yer joking, but I actually showed my sire how to cheat at shoe toss to win a drink a few weeks back. Remember I said I can detect heat?” Getting nods yes he explains, “Did you know that earth ponies can warm ourselves with our TK auras?”

“I’ve heard of that, yes. There’s a massage place in Baltimare that’s famous for it.”

Cure looks over to Dawn and says, “Remind me to give you a massage one of these days, babe. You’ll need yer brother to carry ya home, though.”

“Huh? Why?”

“Cause there ain’t no way you’ll stay awake for the whole thing. My sire has managed once ever to stay awake through the whole thing, and that’s cause I didn’t do his hooves. Then again, I think that’s an earth pony weak spot like you guys and yer horns or pegasi and wings.”

“I’ve never had a horn massage…” Dawn says thoughtfully.

“I can give ya a preview if ya want. Nothing too intense or, like I said, you will fall asleep.”

Eyes lighting up in wonder, she nods excitedly and lays her head down on her forelegs.

Cure walks over to sit on his haunches, putting a little weight on her withers. He continues his story as he starts massaging just at the base of her neck. “So anyhow, I gave all my parents and myself heat sensors on our faces and I added a few to my back and sides too, right?” Glancing down he quickly says, “My hooves will take a few to get really heated up, by the way.”

Solar watches on in amusement as he can see his sister’s eyes go half-lidded as Cure works his way around her mane, gently but firmly massaging down from the back of her neck to the front while avoiding her throat area and moving gradually up towards her head. “Uh huh, you mentioned that when you showed us the horn. I think we kinda got distracted by that, though.”

“Understandable. Well anyhow, I was tellin my sire he could use the hoof trick to heat up the stake, right?”

“Ah, and then he can see it with his eyes closed, right?”

“Yep, sorta. It’s not exactly vision, but anyhow I told him to go stand by the stake and heat it up and trash talk his buds, okay? So then I was like, “Just have them blindfold ya and bet ‘em you can still hit it, maybe even challenge them to spin ya around a bit.” Well he told me the next day he won at least one drink like that. The stake didn’t stay warm very long though, being metal and all.”

Cure’s kneading around the base of Dawn’s ears at this point. Solar is having a hard time not laughing at his sister’s face. The only word that comes to mind is “bliss” as she’s barely got her eyes open, is clearly not hearing a word Cure says, and… may actually be drooling a little. “I think my sister is drooling.”

“Eh, let her. I have prestidigitation to clean that up with. A little drool never hurt anypony.”

“You realize you have to marry her now, right?”

Cure dismisses the suggestion. “I’m not aware of any such law, though I suspect she’ll never leave me if I promise her one of these every week or two. That’s what my mom keeps tellin me anyhow.”

“Sissy? You still awake?”

“Uhhuh”

“Okay. Let’s see how much longer that lasts. He’s just gettin to the good part.”

“I’ve actually grown some soft skin over the edge of my hoof, so I don’t think you’d normally want an earth pony messing with yer horn like this, TK field or not,” Cure explains as he starts rubbing on both sides of the base of Dawn’s horn. “Of course, I’m also using my talent to gently massage the muscles while I’m kneading the skin. Between the heat, massage, and direct muscle stimulation this should be pretty relaxing.”

“I know it feels pretty good to get it filed down every so often. This looks a little more intense than that.”

“Yeah, well, you know how much it hurts when you take a hit while the juice is flowing. Well, not now since I kinda fixed that for ya,” he says, Solar interrupting with a thanks.

“And you have my undying gratitude for that alone. Just being able to cast through a hit is… it’s a game changer. That’s a unicorn’s top weakness.”

“Eh, that and melee, but yeah, so anyhow, as bad as that used to hurt, this probably feels about that good to her.” Looking down her back, Dawn’s tail is lazily shifting back and forth behind her just like a really relaxed puppy getting its ears scritched would. “Oh yeah, she’s feelin that alright.”

“I’m not 100% sure I should even be here for this, dude. If she was a little older and had her mark I’d be worried right about now.”

“Trust me, this is a completely platonic thing. I wouldn’t feel weird massaging you either. I keep the professional separate, remember?”

Getting an approving nod from Solar he continues, “Granted this is a bit intimate, but there’s nothing sexual about it. Well, at least not for me. Though I do wonder what would happen if she channeled a tiny bit of magic in her horn while I did it.”

Smirking, Solar says, “Channel a tiny bit of yours in through your hoof and find out.”

Meeting the colt’s eyes, Cure asks, “It won’t hurt her?”

“Nope, it’ll probably feel really good. Two unicorns can do that with our horns.”

“That’s not like… a marriage proposal in unicorn land is it?”

“HA! No, just like you said… something that’s considered pretty intimate.”

“Not like… sexual intimate right? We’re too young.”

“I wouldn’t tell you to do it if it was. She is my sister after all.”

“Ehh, you’re smiling a little too much for me to believe ya. Sorry dude, but I can spot a fib pretty easily anymore. I don’t think yer lyin exactly, but I’m sure whatever would have happened woulda mortified the poor filly.”

With a big, shit-eating grin Solar just says, “Yeah, probably.”

Snorting, Cure finishes the quick massage by leaning over and given Dawn a chaste peck right below her horn. She doesn’t react at all. She’s still awake, he thinks. Her eyes are open, partially, but aside from her tail lazily swaying back and forth she’s otherwise unresponsive.

“Yep, she’s either asleep or damn near.”

“Huh. I’ll hafta try that sometime. If you can avoid kissing me that’d be great, though.”

“I dunno dude, you see how I am with a fiery unicorn,” Cure jokes, getting a snort from the red colt. “Maybe if you get through basic alright I can give ya a “one free massage” coupon.” Rolling his eyes at Solar’s hoof pump he continues, “I’m gonna start doing cosmetic procedures for ponies here soon, probably. That’s actually one of the things I wanted to talk to yer dam about. So I’m kinda not sure where to go from here.”

“I was hoping she’d put in a good word and introduce me to see if I could get an internship or apprenticeship or whatever. Even if they don’t want me healin ‘cause of my age I could at least do the projector thing with a crystal and help the doc with diagnosing stuff a lot. Now I’m not sure if I should still approach the clinic or just go to Baltimare and talk to somepony at the hospital there.”

“Why wouldn’t you just go to Baltimare anyhow? They’d probably pay more and you’d have a lot more to do. Also, more doctors to work with. They just have one here and a few nurses, so if anything big happens they usually send a pegasus to fetch the doc during off hours.”

“The train ride. I’m young enough my parents wouldn’t want me goin alone. I’d rather work at the clinic until I’m at least twelve and my parents are more comfortable letting me go to town by myself. I know my dam wouldn’t mind going with me, but with three foals on the way that’s not a long term solution.”

“Yeah, true.”

“I guess I could ask my great grandsire to have somepony meet me at the train and escort me to and from the hospital, but I don’t really want to start askin favors from him.”

“Why not?”

“I dunno, dude… I know Grandpa Brick is a former guard and whatnot, but something just makes me not want to owe anypony anything if I can help it. Paranoia I guess, just like the whole foalnapping thing was. There’s no huge flaming rush, though, so if I have to wait until I’m older then that’s what I’ll do. I can still do the cosmetic thing on the side if I have ponies sign a waiver. I could make a fortune with just that, so money will never be an issue for me.”

“Yeah, you could get rich off that alone if yer careful.”

“If I ever wasn’t sure something is safe I wouldn’t do it. My talent gives me, as far as I can tell, absolute control over that stuff.” Cure lays down next to Dawn and leans into her side, giving her shoulder a small bump. She starts to stir with a yawn. “How ya doin there, sleepyhead?”

“Mwa” she blurts out, finishing her jaw-splitting yawn.

“Indeed,” he agrees with a sage nod.

“That was nice,” she says, sedately leaning her head on his withers.

“It seemed like ya enjoyed it. Maybe I just need to give yer dam a massage and she’ll come around, huh?” Both siblings snort at that, though Dawn gives the idea a considering look.

“Dunno dude, that could work," Solar agrees, "I’ll ask if she’s down for it when we get home.”

“So, what do you think the odds are that she’ll give me a hard time if I work at the clinic?”

“Zero. She’s really good with cleaning spells and does a lot of clerical work for the doc, but she’s gotta realize that if she’s driving away a pony that can legitimately heal it’s not gonna go well for her. Especially if Ms Gale finds out why.”

“Ms Gale? Is she the office manager?”

“I think so. She’s a super-cheery gray pegasus that I know is in some kind of administrative role at the clinic, but I don’t really know what everypony’s exact position is. You’ll like her, she’s very friendly.”

“Good to know. Either way, I don’t want to get your dam in trouble. I’m not that petty.” Cure pauses in thought a second, then amends, “Usually, that is. And I would never want to cause your family problems.”

“I don’t think anypony could blame you for not wanting to be subjected to that. I’d suggest the same thing as with Sgt. Bulwark. Just go with a parent and talk to ‘em. Stars, we could go right now. The staff there know who I am, after all.”

“Eh, I’d at least want my mom or sire there. They’re the business ponies. I’m not tryin to make big bits, but I don’t want to just leave money on the table if it’s negotiable. Maybe we could go when you’re available, though. I’m sure they’ll have me demonstrate my talent, but having somepony there to vouch for me helps a lot, otherwise they may laugh me off before I even get the chance.”

“When are they getting home?”

“Not for a while. They left just before you got here. Before they get here, I want to teach you how to make scrolls like that one there, okay?”

“Sure dude, that sounds useful.”

“It is,” Cure quickly agrees.

Cure’s posture shifts, drawing Solar’s attention more fully to the young colt. The look Cure gives him seems like it belongs on a worried parent, not some foal half his age. With a seriousness that the colt rarely displays he commands, “When you get older and are out there doing patrols and whatnot, you will keep, at a minimum, one charged long range teleport scroll and one strong shield scroll on you at all times.”

“Even if your horn is disabled somehow you can still activate a scroll. Ideally you’ll have a whole stack of uncharged scrolls that, should the worst happen, you can charge up during down time and keep on you, then make more when the opportunity arises. You can not go out there assuming everything will be fine just because nothing happened last time, or the time before that, or the hundreds of times you went out before.”

“Dude you sound like you’re preparing for war. Do ya know something we don’t?”

“Si vis pacem, para bellum, my friend. I’d hate to have to come to yer funeral someday because you didn’t spend a hundred bits a month on some ink and parchment and spend a couple hours making scrolls. You don’t need it for Basic, but when you deploy you’re gonna take a book with ya and yer gonna come home with it still full, I hope. But just in case…”

“Yeah, I get it. It’s a good idea,” Solar agrees, placating the blue colt and getting an approving nod in return. “I bet they’ll supply ink and paper too, so all it would cost me is the time and magic.”

“Good. In the meantime, now that you’re good with yer physical fitness I really recommend you spend at least an hour or two a day at the range. I’ve learned some stuff about our physiology that gave me theories about how we generate magic. That may be physical, but our reservoir, as best I can tell, is entirely metaphysical. I’ve found no evidence of a biological storage unit for magic, at least.”

“I’ve not read a lot of theory books on it, so I don’t know… I’ve always heard that better physical fitness helps a little, at least.”

“That seems true,” Cure agrees with a nod, “Having more muscle and less fat will allow a unicorn to generate magic faster, all other things being the same. I suspect there’s more to it than that, so that’ll be your next training objective. We need to find some way for you to burn off your magic, be it lifting things, charging crystals that you then discharge, or whatever.”

“Those are all good ways to use your magic up, but they’re gonna make ya tired too,” Dawn comments from Cure’s back.

“Yep, but that’s the point. Your body gets used to that “workout” and eventually what used to make ya tired just doesn’t anymore. Instead it takes twice as much. Or three times. Who knows what the limit is. How many times a week do you exhaust your magic, Solar?”

“Uhh, never. I actively avoid doing that because then I feel like crap.”

“Start. Like, today. Get used to feeling like crap, because your physical training is basically done, now it’s time for the metaphysical. I don’t know if my healing thing does anything to help there, but it’s worth a shot. Wanna find out?”

“Ugh. Yeah, sure, I guess.”

“Sweet! Let’s see what you can do, Solar. Time to rise and shine, Dawn.”

“I’m awake, shattap,” the filly says as she slides off of Cure. “It’s your fault I’m tired now.”

“I did warn you. So how’d the horn massage feel anyhow, at least the part you remember?”

“Amazing,” she gushes with a big, tired smile. “It’s like you were massaging my brain out my ears.”

“Huh. Well, we don’t want that. Glad to hear it was nice, though.”

Cure grabs a few scrolls and quickly enchants high tier versions of the transmutation spell on them without charging them up at all. Solar watches in horror as he realizes what Cure’s about to have him do.

“Oh dude, come on! I’ll be sick after two of those.”

“Perfect!” Cure happily shouts while clapping. Dawn just smirks at the byplay. "Here ya go, Solar. Charge up as many as you can. Before you start, let’s do a little prep work. I’m gonna go get some food ready for ya. Also, you’re okay with me usin my talent on you for this, right?”

“Ugh, if it helps then yes, please do.”

“Great!”

Cure trots outside to the garden and, after gathering up some supplies for a snack, runs back in the house to clean and cut everything up. A few minutes later Cure carries a bowl full of salad in and sets it in front of Solar.

Dawn smirks at the colt from the cushion as he walks back in the room. “Did you just go outside with yer horn on?”

“Ah fudge! I keep doing that! That’s twice in two days. I swear, this thing’s too friggin convenient and I keep forgetting.” He quickly runs to the back door, cracks it open, and takes a look outside. Fortunately the coast is clear.

Returning to the living room he says, “There’s nopony out there, so I guess I’ve gotten lucky again. Still, I need to put a freakin sign up or something. No prosthetic horns beyond this point,” he says, motioning towards the back door. “That oughta raise an eyebrow or two when we have company.”

“Ya think?” she asks.

“Yeah, yeah, laugh it up. Alright, Solar, you charge up those scrolls then I’m gonna put yer system into overdrive. Don’t be surprised if you feel hungry in a few minutes. Bathroom’s that way, just in case.”

With a slightly concerned look, Solar picks up the first scroll. Holding it to his horn he charges it up and, after a moment, sets it down. “Not a great feeling.”

“Yeah, well, get used to it. Being able to operate like that may save yer life someday.”

“How often do you run yourself dry?”

“I come close several times a day. I only overdid it really bad once. I basically knocked myself out for like two hours on the second or third day after I got my mark.”

“Fine, fine.” Charging the second one has an impact, Cure can tell. Solar looks like he’s drugged.

“Okay dude, let’s see how fast you recover with a boost.” Cure puts his hooves on the red unicorn’s side and pushes with his magic, telling Solar’s system to burn off the fat stores as quickly as is safe to generate magic as fast as possible.

He can see the nutrients being stolen from his fat reserves and diffused throughout his body. Sending a similar “hurry up” order to Solar’s gut and intestines also charges that pathway, something Cure doesn’t want to spend a lot of time paying attention to.

The process is far from instantaneous, but within about five minutes Solar is definitely looking a lot better.

“You okay, bro?” Dawn asks, rubbing his side with a hoof.

“Yeah. Yeah, I’m alright. That’ll definitely take some getting used to. Well, I think we can chalk up another thing your cheating talent can help with; magic recovery. Freaking ridiculous. How’s that even work?”

“The same thing that powers our body is at least partially responsible for generating our magic. We metabolize food to generate magic, which is why you feel sluggish when you use a bunch and why you recover faster when you eat, especially sugary stuff. Magic is, after all, just another form of energy, so it has to come from somewhere. Unicorns have more of the “make magic” cells in their body than the other tribes.”

“We get the kind that heal, strengthen, give endurance, and help with the TK aura. I don’t know what all pegasi get, but I’m pretty sure they have an aura that lets them walk on clouds, deflect lightning, and maybe does something with wind, heat, or water.”

“How in Tartarus do you know all that?”

“Scans and experiments. I’m testing something new in myself to see if I can make a cell structure that does all three. I’ll let ya know how it works out sometime around April.”

“April? Why April?”

“Because I’m doing it in very tiny increments in case something goes wrong so I don’t explode or something.”

“Good policy.”

“I agree.”

“So wait,” Dawn says, “you’re going to potentially have all three tribes’ abilities in six months?”

“Possibly, but I’ve already got two out of three right now,” he says, tapping his horn. “I’d know if it was working at all if we had a cloud. I don’t have any pegasi in on the secret though, so no way for me to test. Technically, we all have all three tribes abilities, it's just a matter of ratios. There's a reason lightning blows trees in half but doesn't fry ponies. It's because we all have a tiny bit of the pegasus ability in us.”

“I know there’s a spell that can give unicorn wings, but…”

“That spell also takes a whole lot of magic to cast, is my understanding.”

“Yeah, how do you know that?”

“It’s a high level conjuration spell. It doesn’t take a genius to figure out that it’s draining. I don’t know if it actually alters our aura’s properties to match what a pegasus’ does or if it substitutes magic wholly as a replacement.”

“I… uhh… have no clue, dude. I’ve just heard it can be used for scouting if needed, but is too draining under most circumstances. I think you can pour less energy into it but then it doesn’t last as long.”

Hmm… Twilight must have poured a bunch in so Rarity wouldn’t fall prematurely. That makes sense if she didn’t know exactly how long the wings would be needed. If she could pour enough juice in to get hours out of it maybe I could get two or three minutes, just to get an idea of what flying is like.

“Really? I may need to find that spell diagram then. Regardless, guess what your new training regimen is gonna look like,” Cure says with a smile while dangling two more scrolls in front of Solar.

“Can you do me too?” Dawn asks.

“Yep, I think we should all do this every day, if possible. It’ll benefit us immensely in the long run. I only have enough ink for a few more scrolls though."

"I still say you should be coming to the range with us, Cure. It’s a heck of a lot more fun than charging scrolls or lifting stuff."

"It’s really tempting. If I could come up with a way to do it without risking somepony asking about the new unicorn in town I would at least consider it."

"Basic Invisibility! Isn't that in the library book?" Dawn asks.

The basic version of the spell is, as the name implies, very basic. It breaks after a few steps, too much movement, or when a unicorn casts a spell. It can also be seen through by the unicorn aura if they’re paying attention. Cure compares it to stealth technologies that don’t exactly make a plane invisible, but instead greatly reduces their radar signature.

"Yeah, but casting anything reveals you," Cure points out.

"No, I don't mean for at the range," she says. "Cast it on yourself."

"Okay gimme a sec, I haven't tried it yet." Cure reviews the spell and finds that it actually is similar to the illusion spell he's been using all along. With a quick dry run first he's confident he has the spell down.

Dawn watches as Cure fades from view. Once he's gone she says, "Okay now change something like your coat color. Do something that's completely internal magic, nothing with your horn."

"Good thinking, sis. Internal magic shouldn't disrupt the illusion barrier."

"Huh. It worked. Okay, so I can turn invisible and change colors. Then what?"

"Duh, Cure. You wait till the train is pulling up, turn invisible, disguise yourself, and pretend to walk off the train with everypony else. Just use colors that don't stand out like light brown, gray, or off-white. Something nopony will pay attention to."

"Ahh… then we can meet up and go. I need a name and a cutie mark. Or I can just go blank. That's probably better, actually."

"Just pick whatever name. They don't write it down at the range or anything. There’s never anypony there in this town anyhow," Solar explains as he takes a bite of the salad Cure made. "Can't freakin believe I'm hungry again."

Cure fades back into view, now with a darker blue coat, closer to royal instead of the typical sky blue. His mane is a few shades darker as well; a deep forest green rather than his normal emerald. He's completely covered his mark in a flap of fur-covered skin that seamlessly blends in with his coat.

Dawn walks up and looks him over from front to back. Poking at his flank, she can't tell where the seam is on the patch of fur. She notices right away that his face looks slightly different, with narrower cheeks and a more angular muzzle. He also changed the size and shape of his horn slightly. The couple changes make it impossible to recognize him, and he even changed his scent. With an approving nod she bumps his shoulder. "Nice disguise, Cure. I would never assume it's you."

Cocking his head in confusion, and with a deeper, more mature voice and a slight British accent the colt says, "Cure? Sorry, miss, I'm afraid I haven't a clue who this Cure fellow is."

Dawn takes a half step back at the unexpected voice and manner of speaking.

He turns to Solar, who's paused mid-bite in shock. "Pardon my intrusion upon your meal, my good sir. I was just on my way home in Trottingham and encountered some bizarre phenomenon. A brilliant flash of yellow filled my vision and, for a brief moment, I felt a rather intense pulling sensation. Could I trouble you to direct me to the nearest guard station?"

Solar quickly swallows the food in his mouth, coughing slightly as some refuses to go down easily. "Uhh, not funny, Cure. That is you, right? I could see him having something crazy like this happen…"

Sighing, the blue colt shakes his head. "Never mind, if you both are incapable of rendering assistance then I shall find it on my own. Good day to you." As he walks to the door the knob is encased in a yellow aura, matching the glow of his horn, and pulled open before he trots outside, shutting the door behind him.

Dawn points a hoof at the door and looks at Solar asking, "What the hay just happened?"

He shrugs and begins saying, "I don't kn-" before cutting himself off when the back door in the kitchen bursts open, Cure, sans horn, tumbles in as if was thrown before jumping up and slamming the door closed.

Running into the living room he frantically asks, "DID YOU SEE HIM? A DARK BLUE COLT? WE GOTTA STOP HIM BEFORE IT'S TOO LATE!"

Both siblings leap to their hooves and are about to go sprinting out the front door, only to pause at the boisterous laughter coming from behind them.

"Oh my Stars! Your faces! HAH!" Switching his voice back he says "Might I trouble you for a spot of tea?" and falls over laughing again.

Dawn doesn't hesitate to tackle him. Standing over his prone and laughing form she feebly whales on him to no effect due to his improved durability. Rolling on the floor and laughing, Cure lets her get her kicks in before he stops on his back looking up at her.

"I ran all the way home from Trottingham and this is the greeting I get?” Waving a hoof in her face he adds, “No more massages for you, missy!"

Solar lays back down and goes back to eating with a sigh while Dawn flops back on Cure's cushion, forelegs crossed with an angry scowl.

The scowl is redirected at Solar when he starts chuckling. "Okay, that was actually pretty funny, I have to admit. Let's see it again, no invisibility this time."

"Are ya sure? The rearranging my face thing may look weird," Cure says while standing back up.

"Eh, go ahead. I'm curious,” he insists while Dawn mutters “I’ll rearrange yer face…” under her breath.

Both unicorns pale slightly as Cure, now facing them, changes back to the other colt's appearance. The color change isn’t a big deal; his coat, mane, and tail just gradually darken like a slider is being moved down a scale. It’s the shifting of bone under his skin that unsettles the pair. Once he’s done he spreads his forehooves and shouts "Ta daa!” while waving his forelegs up and down.

"Where's your horn?" Dawn asks, looking him up and down critically.

"Oh, right!" Both siblings are further horrified when Cure pulls the horn from a pouch of skin under his left foreleg pit, then tosses it up, catches it like a circus seal catching a ball with his TK aura, and sticks it in place on his head again, hooves-free. Once again he spreads his forehooves and shouts, "Ta daa! Again!"

When both just stare at him like he's nuts he scowls back muttering, "No applause? Y'all stink. Let's see you do that."

"You're crazy, aren't you?"

"We're all crazy, Solar. The important thing is that we channel the crazy into useful things. Besides, it's not like I'm throwing your horn around." Narrowing his eyes at the older colt, he leans forward and lowly says "Yet" then smiles.

"Well. That's not terrifying. Aaaanyhow, this seems like a good way to get you to the range, Cure. What's your alias?"

Smiling wide, Cure answers in the altered voice, sans accent. "Thomas Riddle, at your service" tipping an imaginary hat he adds, "but you may call me Voldemort."

"Riddle, got it."

The smile on Cure's face becomes a pout. "Aww."

"How about we start going tomorrow?" Dawn suggests. "We need to get home soon and Solar isn't going to be casting anything for a little while."

"Sure, okay. We can do scrolls another time then. Are you two coming back to run after dinner? I think everypony else is going tonight. Crosswind and Glacial may stop by too. I bumped into them in town Friday night."

"Yep, we'll be here, Cure," Solar agrees. Finished with the food he walks over to the kitchen and puts everything in the sink. "Ready to go, sis?"

"Yep." Dawn hops up. Apparently she's forgiven Cure for the prank. She trots up to him and gives him an affectionate nuzzle, just as the front door opens and Title walks in. She stops at the unexpected scene, causing Deed to almost run right into her, with Vines peeking over their backs.

Cure, his voice changed to the fake one, yells, "Bloody Tartarus! You said they would be gone for hours! Quick, grab everything and run!"

Solar and Dawn both whip their heads to look at him, horror on their faces.

"Real funny, Cure. Stop being a brat," Title casually says as she walks in the room, Deed following as Vines takes off the harness to the small pull cart behind her. To the amusement of the parents both siblings give him a whack this time. "I'm guessing he deserves that."

"Could you actually tell it was me or is it just because we're here?" he asks, ignoring the dual punches.

"The latter, though you're a bit thick for a unicorn."

"Yeah, sport, you're a bit on the wide side to be convincing. What's the getup for?"

Vines, finished getting free, walks up to him and looks him over. "That's weird. You even smell different. I hate to admit, honey, but I don't know if I would even recognize you if you changed your posture and mannerisms a little."

"Well aside from my overall body shape there's nothing to identify me. No mark, different face, colors, scent, voice, eye color." Holding up a hoof and opening his mouth he adds, "I even changed my teeth and hoof imprint some."

Turning to his sire he explains, "Dawn suggested a way for me to go to the range with them. I'll probably start doing that after school tomorrow." Cure gives his parents a quick explanation of the plan.

Title suggests he uses the restroom at the station to change, which makes all three foals feel kinda dumb since that invalidates the need for the invisibility altogether. The only thing he’ll need to do is watch for anypony paying attention when one colt goes in and another leaves.

Dawn realizes something else was different earlier that she hadn't thought of yet. "How'd you change the color of your magic?"

"It's a cantrip," Solar explains before Cure can. "It only lasts an hour, but your aura can be whatever color you want."

"Yep. I just casted it to break the invisibility spell. It's only a few runes, that's why you didn't notice it."

"Oh. I thought that was the invisibility breaking I felt. Okay, well we'll see you after dinner for our run. Bye everypony!"

Cure had given his parents a run down of everything else that the three had discussed while helping out the few groceries away. Vines had asked him to change his appearance and scent back almost immediately. Something about him not being him sent her maternal instincts into a tizzy.

He wonders if they’re amped up due to her pregnancy. There could also be some kind of evolutionary instinct at play. He suggested maybe something was twigging a "my colt is sick" part of her brain she wasn't conscious of and acquiesced quickly when it became obvious how much anxiety this was causing her. For the next hour she might as well have carried him around by his scruff with how she hovered over him.

He thought it was adorable and ate the attention up without reservation.

Momma mode finally placated, the family had dinner, got ready, and stood outside waiting for everypony to show up for their run.

Crosswind Drift and Glacial Breeze are the first to arrive. Wind Shear joined them too, something neither he nor his parents expected. Next, Heavy Lift trots over with his twin sisters riding pony, one immediately fluttering onto Cure's back and nuzzling into his mane while the other gives him the narrowed-eye stare. Ferric Shine arrives just a moment later, with Delta Coast right behind her.

Cure approaches Ferric and tells her about the book he bought in Canterlot. He promises to let her borrow it after the run, a prospect that excites the dark red filly.

Rising Pitch, Sapphire Sprint, and Dawn Glow all come together before Dawn pulls Cure to the side while waving the parents to follow.

Surprised by the action, Cure follows along. “So… what’s up? Somethin wrong?”

"No, I just wanted to let you know that when we left earlier we bumped into our sire on the way home. He happened to be patrolling with Sgt. Bulwark. They're both coming with Solar. I hope you're not upset," she finishes nervously.

"Nah, that's fine. It just saves me a trip, that's all. Thanks for inviting them, Dawn. That was good thinkin." Looking towards town, Cure puts some magic through his eyes. Sure enough, Gleaming Haze, Solar Strike, and Staff Sergeant Iron Bulwark are approaching at an easy canter and out of their armor.

Cure hadn't really focused on the sarge when he gave his statement; he was too caught up with the events and ensuring he played the part to really make note of the gray stallion's build. The armor also had made it difficult to tell how much bulk was it versus him before. The answer is overwhelmingly him; he's a solid hoof taller than Deed and a half hoof wider; approximately the same build that Cure plans on being when he's fully grown.

"Yep, there they are. They'll be here in just a minute."

"Mom, dad? You're the business ponies here. Why don't you two think about how you wanna approach this. I trust your judgment here, whether it's a free service I offer for the guard or as some kinda sports medicine trainer. I'm fine either way. Pardon me a second, I need to deal with something quick."

Trotting away, Cure calls out, "Hey Wind? Mind if I have a word?"

Following Cure off to the side she immediately starts, "Hey I hope you don't mind that I came, sissy said she ran into you Friday and you had a bunch of ponies running. I didn't expect this many, though," she finished while looking towards the three still on the way.

"No, I'm perfectly okay with you being here. I wanted to talk to you about something that happened the night we fought. Nothing bad," he quickly adds, "but just something I haven't had an opportunity to bring up. My special talent is very unique, okay?"

"... Okay?"

"When we fought I used it to make sure I didn't hurt you accidentally."

"So?"

"So I just wanted to let you know. Part of the talent lets me see injuries. Remember how you were teasing me about your sister's chest?" Cure can see the instant it clicks for the filly. She turns almost as red as Dawn and her wings start to lift.

Before she bolts, Cure raises a hoof, "I assure you, Wind, before my time is up I will certainly use my talent on thousands, maybe tens of thousands of ponies. Think of me like a doctor; that's the same thing I have told everypony else. That's why the sergeant is here tonight with the medic that looked over your wing. Recognize them?"

"Oh. Oh! Wait… is he's Dawn's sire?”

“Yep, I found out a few days after our fight.”

“Huh. I didn't realize when we met at the parlor. I shoulda with those colors. My sire has mentioned him before. Why's the sergeant here though?"

"I'm going to offer my healing services to the guard. I approached Dawn's parents about it last night. I'm a healer, Wind. Do you realize what that means?"

"No?” she answers, clearly a little confused. “What's special about that?"

"I may be the only pony alive that can safely use advanced healing magic. I think maybe the princess can too, but other than her and me the best pony healers can barely fix a scratch. If you lost a wing and came to me I could put it back on, even days later."

That finally got through to her. Certainly there's some horror stories that pegasi are told about losing a wing, so the idea of getting it back afterwards shocks her out of whatever concern she had before. Cure watches as her wings clamp tight on her body at just the thought of injuring them.

With a grimace she quietly mumbles, "... and I fuckin picked a fight with ya. Flamin Tartarus."

"Eh, we're friends now, though, right? Look, I wanted to give you a heads up alone so you didn't freak out like you were about to. Every pony here but Heavy's sisters, Dawn's sire, and the sergeant have had me use my talent on them. Them and a half dozen others. It's not a big deal."

"Alright. That's fine I guess. If I ever got hurt I'd want ya to fix me up anyhow I suppose. Did you have to heal my wing after we fought?"

"There was a little strain from pinning you, but no actual injury. I didn't damage yer wing, Wind. I wouldn't do that to a pegasus over a silly foal's fight."

"Fair. I mean, if you were a unicorn I would expect ya to use magic too, since you couldn't beat me otherwise, ya know?" she says with a smug smile.

"Uh huh. I'll let ya have the win tonight. I need to talk to the sergeants and get these ponies movin."

Smirking in perceived victory she follows Cure back to the group.

"Alright, sorry for the delay everypony. First I would like to welcome Staff Sergeant Iron Bulwark and Sergeant Gleaming Haze. You'll note the resemblance to Dawn and Solar, of course, as he's their sire. Also, welcome to Wind Shear, Crosswind Drift's older sister."

"Many of you are aware of something I have asked you to keep quiet for the past month. You don't have to anymore. I've been telling ponies that my special talent is to help ponies stay in shape or to get healthy. That's true, but only a part of my talent. In addition to that, one of the things I can do is heal ponies. Not just scratches, but other injuries and illnesses as well."

"I have only had my cutie mark for a month and I was keeping quiet about what I could do because the other first few times I healed anypony the reaction was basically, "If ponies know what you can do they'll come take you away." I've since been assured that is not the case."

"My talent works like a unicorn’s health scanning spell, but in addition to seeing what's wrong I can also direct my magic to fixing it. That's why we can run as far as we can without feeling it. Normally you'd get fatigued as your muscles wear out. With me healing you that won't happen. You just keep going until you stop or you literally have insufficient fat reserves to power your muscles."

"A typical workout with me is worth five or more normally, and since you're leaving fully recovered you don't get tired or sore afterwards. You can come right back the next day fresh and ready to go again. I need to speak to the sergeants for a moment, then we can get started."

Cure, his parents, and the sergeants step off to the side while the few foals that weren’t already aware discuss the reveal.

Turning to face Sgt. Bulwark, Cure simply says, "I'm sure you have questions."

With an affirming nod the sergeant says, "A great many. Your talent registration form came across my desk just today. I believe that answers a couple of them."

Cure can't help but sigh at the news. They had gone to city hall the day after meeting with the attorneys. He wasn't happy with the requirement, but the alternative meant not only breaking the law by not registering, but he would also not be able to legally offer services for payment.

They had elected to limit the number of ponies able to view his information to only those that are considered "need to know", which would mean the local guard and, presumably, whatever government agency is responsible for keeping tabs on the ponies that have the potential to either save or end a lot of lives; probably some three-letter-agency under the crown.

"I figured the local guard commander may be made aware of a restricted talent classification in their jurisdiction. How far up the line will it go?"

Sgt. Bulwark chuckles at the colt's reaction. "Son… if Her Highness isn't reading a copy of that form with her morning tea within the next few days I'll eat my armor. Do you know how many times I have seen that form?"

"Once?"

"HA! No, I think you're the sixth, but the other five were when I was downtown and I was just being made aware. You're the first in my jurisdiction, though."

"And here I was thinking I may get to live a somewhat normal life. Have you been ordered to observe me or did you come to run?"

"I'll be honest with ya, son. The answer is both." Waving a placating hoof he continues, "Don't stress yerself. This is just how it works. You wouldn't want hundreds of ponies with potentially dangerous talents going around with nopony aware at all. Just keep doin what yer doin and nothin will change."

"Fair. Anything you want to know before we run?"

"Just one thing. I can't help but notice you're a lot more mature than the colt I spoke with a month ago. I just need to hear it… Was everything with Washout legit?"

"Yes,” Cure definitively answers. “He was way out of line. I specifically told him to take a moment to look at the situation. He responded by getting in my face and asking who I was trying to tell him what to do. It was completely inappropriate and, as you said, unprofessional."

"Agreed. I just had to be sure."

"I understand. I'm sure Thunder Dance told you that we all made up?"

"Yep." With a soft smile he adds, "She said you bumped into her filly and bought her a sundae. That was very kind of you."

Shrugging, Cure explains, "Life's too short to hold grudges, and I got a new friend out of it. You can't have too many of those." Getting agreements from the sergeants, Cure looks back to the group. Like any collection of foals his age they've become completely disorganized. "I had better get everypony moving. Are you two running normally or am I hitting you with my talent?"

"Talent, please," Haze immediately calls out, getting a laugh out of the parents and a disappointed sigh from his commander. "Not all of us have that earth pony endurance, sarge," he comments defensively.

"Actually your two are able to keep up with most of the earth ponies until about ten kilometers. They struggle from there without help, but Solar is going to soar through Basic, I'm sure. "

"It sounds like he'll be fine," Sgt. Bulwark agrees. "I'm going to go without, if I can. I think I can go ten klicks easy enough."

Discussion more or less done, everypony returns to the group.

"Okay everypony, let's get moving," Cure calls out. "My parents are on point, just follow their lead. I'll be moving up and down the group, so if I see anypony struggling I'll come up and give ya a little tap."

"We'll stop every few kilometers to rest a moment. Just give me a hoof bump each time we stop and I'll fix ya up, then we'll go again until we decide to call it a day. Pegasi, I don't know how exactly your flight works, but don't use it at all tonight. The goal is to strain muscles and that won't happen if you’re cheating. Just wave a wing at me if you're really struggling and I don't notice."

"Let's go, mom!" he shouts to Title, who takes off with Vines and Deed behind her. Solar and Dawn go next with the earth pony fillies and Heavy all following behind them. The pegasi go next, followed by Cure and the two sergeants.

It becomes painfully obvious that the pegasi are not conditioned to running any kind of distance. Cure spends most of the run bouncing between the three of them and occasionally running ahead to top off Sapphire and Heavy. Everypony else can at least make it from one break stop to the next easily enough.

Cure catches the pegasi cheating a few times, though he's pretty sure it's just instinct for them to start channeling their aura. As best he can tell it lightens them somehow. It reminds him of something from a video game, actually.

Mass Effect, specifically, had Element Zero or "eezo" that gave physics the middle finger and allowed for the increase or decrease of an object's mass. That allows for greater acceleration like when pegasi corner hard or are taking off.

It would also reduce gravity's pull and make them bounce rather than go splat when crashing, something he remembers from the cartoon, aside from a few examples that seemed to be more for comedic effect.

Curious whether they know, he asks during the run, "When you fly are you somehow reducing your effective mass? Is that how you're able to get off the ground and make fast turns?"

Sadly, neither of the three have any idea, and all he gets back is versions of "no clue" or "What the hay does that mean?"

It's Dawn's sire that explains, "Actually, that is the working theory. I'm surprised you know physics well enough to recognize the difference between mass and weight, Cure. Dawn and Solar keep saying you're smart, though."

"It's the only thing I can think of that would explain how they get off the ground without wings ten times as big. Ponies are not even slightly aerodynamic. Does it reduce drag too?"

"Uhh… I think?" he says, looking at Bulwark to see if he knows. He just frowns and shakes his head no, indicating he doesn't.

"Wind, when you fly do your ears get blasted back and yer eyes dry out?"

"Only if you go really fast. Like, faster than us three can get up to."

"Huh… What about staying warm? I would expect you to freeze with high speed flying in the winter. Wind chill can kill a pony unless your magic keeps you safe."

"It does," Haze cuts in. "A pegasus that's out of magic can freeze at high speeds, but they can just stop on a cloud to warm back up."

"Oh wow, that’s useful. Thanks."

Aside from some chatter and a bit of grumbling from the three pegasi the run was fairly quiet. Most of the ponies were breathing too hard to really talk, even if they didn't need nearly as much help from Cure.

At the end of the run everypony waded into the pond to cool off. The temperature had definitely fallen a few degrees, but the thicker winter coat that had started coming in over the last week mitigated that, especially with everypony running hot from the jog.

Cure had to almost be pulled away from watching the three pegasi as Crosswind and her sister had started wrestling almost immediately and Glacial had ended up getting pulled in to team up on the older girl. He had a hard time not staring, or at least not too much. Three wet pegasi fillies flipping around in the water was a difficult spectacle to walk away from.

Most of the earth ponies had broken off after thanking him and were talking about school, so he joined the adults, Dawn, and Solar to see what the sarge had to say about his offer to assist the guard with physical conditioning.

"Definitely. I'm very interested. I wish I'd had ya three months ago. We just had the intra-guard squad competition a week ago. I can't fathom what a difference a year of conditioning like that," he waves his hoof at a random path, "would make. We'd easily place on fitness criteria alone."

"I bet money I could have every earth pony in your squad doing a 1200 kg draft pull inside six months if we hit the gym too. I don't know what a unicorn or pegasus could get up to, but wings and horns use muscles too."

"Wait," Haze calls, "what do you mean about horns?"

"Your horn muscles get tired after casting a lot, right? Don't you get a sore horn after a lot of spellwork?"

"Yeah…"

"So why couldn't you build up endurance in those too?"

Haze stops to consider for a moment and eventually has to agree.

"So yeah, you could just dry run through the runic alphabet nonstop until yer horn is about to fall off, then I fix it up and yer ready to go again. After a few weeks you can go basically nonstop, or at least enough you'd run outta magic way before getting sore."

"That's usually not a problem since, as you say, magic runs out first, but it would be great to use for spell training when yer not actually casting…"

"Yep. Dawn and Solar are both what you'd probably consider expert casters right now. I've been working with them both for a month. Flash yer sire the alphabet, you two."

Flashing the alphabet is simply running through the standard set of runes while casting a cantrip that shows what runes a unicorn is hitting without actually committing enough magic to cast anything. It's a great teaching tool that Cure found in the back of the primer he originally found the light spell in. Speed and accuracy are the goal, both of which the two have in spades.

Both sergeants adequately impressed, Cure and Dawn break off to let the adults discuss terms and rejoin the rest of the foals playing around in the water.

Solar and Dawn had come by for the scroll training Cure insisted they get started on. There's a lot of material to cover, so it'll be a few sessions before they get a good feel for it since they can't properly cheat like a smart pony should. Solar plans to get some additional supplies in Baltimare, a trip he'd agreed to take Dawn and "Riddle" on whenever he went after he got Cure's parents' okay.

Showered and prepped for bed, the family is all piled together with Vines being the massage victim for the evening. From atop her back he asks his mom how negotiations went.

"Bulwark was thrilled, honey. He seems like the stoic type, but the prospect of kicking tail at next year's competition definitely excited him. Apparently he's got a bone or two to pick with some of the other sergeants between Baltimare and the capital."

"Yep, he's definitely all aboard the cheat train, son. I think ya really impressed him knowin how the other tribes did their thing too. He said they have a training budget and it sounds like yer gonna get a chunk outta it, but don't get yer hopes up too much. He said it'll hafta be performance based pay."

"That's fair," he says as he's grinding away at Vines' hips. "I probably will come out ahead as long as he can keep his troops from screwing around much."

"That won't happen. The idea right now is for you, your sire, a sergeant, and five squaddies to go to Baltimare once a week on Friday afternoon and hit the gym at Base Carol, alternating groups each week. They can book two hour chunks and don't hafta pay. He said as long as you two are careful you can work out for free. You won’t start for a couple weeks though since he has to get approval and there’s a holiday comin up."

"Nice! Dad, is that okay with you? I really only need you to come the first time or two. I think a six pony fire team is enough to get me there and back safely."

"It's not a problem, sport. It'll give me a chance to get some weightliftin in too. I'm sure there's stuff that runnin doesn't get."

"Alright, well don't feel obligated. You know I'm more capable than a normal foal."

Leaning over Deed's back, Title asks, "Hey weren't you gonna work on yer tree?"

"Nope, next week. We did the clone seed thing last week, input slot is next week. The seeds should be ready in a few days."

"Ah. I need to go dump magic in. Kinda forgot with the whole scroll thing," she says, climbing out of bed.

"Dam, ya still hangin in there?"

"Mmhmm"

"Good, once mom gets back I'll tell you about the pegasus thing I figured out."

Carefully getting down of his dam's back, Cure sits by her shoulders to work on her neck. A moment later Title walks back in and snuggles against her other side.

"So I got a look at what pegasi are doing while we ran; at least a glimpse, that is. Haze said my theory is the working one, so it's either correct or nopony has come up with better. Ya listening dam?"

"Hmm?"

"I'll finish ya off in just a sec, just bear with me here. It looks like they are able to decrease their effective mass. That's how they can get off the ground and accelerate so quickly. That's also why they don't break their everything when they crash. They're hitting as if they're a fraction of their actual weight."

"Ah, I bet that factors when they're standing on clouds too."

"It sounds like it, mom. Something Haze said makes me think they can burn magic to enhance their aura kinda like we can enhance our strength. If they run outta magic their aura will still keep 'em warm though. At least to a point."

"So… pegasi never get cold unless they run outta magic, more or less."

"Right, I think. Maybe in extreme cold they could, or high winds."

"How bout you, son? Did the water feel cold at all?"

"No but I'm not a good test subject because of other upgrades. I could try lightening my weight but I'm still under 20% conversion of mitochondria."

Hopping off the bed, Deed calls him over. "Just like yesterday, just get yer visualization thing goin on "lighter" alright?"

Cure trots over in front of his sire and holds up a hoof. "Lemme get it going in my head. I'm not sure how to "think light" exactly."

"What if you think about having less mass?" Title asks.

"That's even more abstract… and technically not possible or correct. Less effective mass."

"Same diff," she shrugs, "just imagine gravity isn't holdin ya down and yer floatin away."

Cure frowns in thought for a second. That sounds almost like being on the moon, and damn near every kid has imagined being Neil Armstrong at least once. "I think that helped. Thanks, mom. Alright pa. One small lift for a pony; one giant lift for ponykind."

"Dunno how giant it is,” Title comments, “but whatever works. I think he's ready, babe. Try not to throw him through the roof."

Just like the day prior, Deed loops his forelegs under his son and carefully lifts him up. "Umm I'm not sure. He may be a little lighter?"

"Hold me straight out, dad. Don't move yer legs at all, okay? And stop channeling magic at all."

Deed follows his son's instructions and can tell a difference right away. He can hold the colt up, but probably not for more than a couple minutes with his forelegs straight out like that.

“Okay I’m going to try to kind of toggle it on and off a bit. If I get too heavy just drop me, I’m ready for it.” With Deed not using any magic at all, he is straining slightly holding Cure straight out in an awkward position. Once Cure gets his “moon versus earth” visual working right it becomes really obvious that the colt is suddenly several kilograms heavier.

Deed quickly lowers him to the ground with a nod. "Yep, that definitely worked. It’s not a huge difference, but it’s noticeable when I was already strainin a bit. I guess yer right about the weight, mass, whatever thing. Want me to toss ya out the window ta see if ya bounce?"

"Har har. Maybe come April when I'm fully converted. Still, this is the first proof we've had that my project is working. It also means that pegasus wings are not strictly needed to fly."

Deed climbs up on the bed on Title's other side, sandwiching the mare between he and Vines. Cure hops back up on the bed to resume his dam's massage.

"How would you fly without wings, Cure?"

While working on his dam's withers he explains, "Well you do need something wing-like to control pitch and roll; it's mainly a source of propulsion that's needed and something to generate lift. Wings do all of that at once but you could have an engine for thrust and artificial wings for pitch and roll."

"Even somewhat early human airplanes could sustain flight speeds over a hundred kph. That would get us to Canterlot in under six hours. Maybe five even. And that's crap from a hundred years ago. I dunno, maybe in twenty years if I'm rich and bored I'll give powered flight a try."

"Hmm. I bet if you can reproduce the pegasus aura that'll help a lot."

"True. Given how small their wings are relative to their bodies I bet they reduce their mass by 80% or more. An airplane with a crystal powering it instead of hundreds of kgs of fuel and with its mass reduced even half would probably be pretty fast. That's still a "bored rich adult" thing I think. I'd rather make a pegasus jetpack instead."

"A what?"

Now moving up his dam's neck, he can tell she's starting to get sleepy. "A propulsion system a pegasus can strap on. It may double their speed or more. I'll have to look at shield modification options and any spell that has a push mechanic to see if it's feasible, but neither of those sound too difficult."

"Aren't they fast enough already?" Deed asks.

"For normal stuff yes, but think of pegasi scouts running air patrol on a dragon or griffon border. Having a speed boost option may be the difference between life and death. I damn sure wouldn't wanna be up there without some kinda fallback."

"Language," Vines huffs out.

Rolling his eyes, Cure starts on her ears. "I told Solar the same thing. Always have a fallback. That's why we spent the evening working on scrolls. No horn needed emergency supplies. It's almost criminal that squads don't have them as a standard kit."

"Maybe you can convince Bulwark they're worthwhile."

"Huh… good idea, mom. I'll make a dozen books for 'em. Some shields, sleep, paralyze, signal flare, a few missile attacks, and an emergency teleport. If I don't power them it would only cost me about ten bits each and take an hour or so.”

"That may be overkill, Cure."

"That's the best kind of kill, mom."

"... predator brains, I swear."

"Hey if yer not the predator that means yer the prey. I ain't nopony's prey, no matter what species I am."

"Uh huh. You are very scary. I'm shakin in my hooves," she mocks while waving a hoof in the air.

"Ya know… if I didn't wanna traumatize yer fragile pony mind I'd respond to a taunt like that. It’s a good thing that one of us is a mature adult." Vines seems like she's almost asleep at this point, so Cure starts on her back hooves first. As soon as he does she lets out a happy hum.

"Whatever you say, widdle Wavey poo." Deed just snorts a chuckle out and watches the byplay.

Cure pauses his massage. Looking up at his mom from over his dam's back he smiles at the smug looking mare. Then his smile becomes a bit more toothy. Sharp, needle-like, and toothy. And it keeps getting wider until the smile goes almost all the way back to his ears. The smug smile dies a quick death. Then he just goes back to massaging his dam's hooves without saying a word.

Deed and Title both just stare in wide-eyed terror, not moving an inch while Cure moves from one hoof to another while humming a lullaby. With his dam asleep he finishes the massage, climbs up against her side, looks over her to his other parents, and in a deep voice with a hissing echo sound he says, "Goodnight mother, father. Sleep well," before snuggling into her side and getting comfortable.

After a minute of absolute silence he sits up, looks at them, and in his normal voice simply asks, "Really?" with hiked brows.

"Damnit, Cure! Don't do that kinda crap!"

"Oh please, you started it. Now get your silly prey brains under control and go to sleep," he says, melodramatically rolling his eyes. Standing up, he walks over and gives each a hug, a kiss, and a loving nuzzle while muttering under his breath about "buncha skittish ponies and their damned panic instincts" before snuggling back with his dam and going to sleep.

Deed looks to Title, lets out a sigh, and says, "I don't think ya should taunt 'em, babe. You remember how he said humans had almost unlimited access to information and entertainment, right?"

"Right. No more provoking the crazy ape brain. Got it."

"Goodnight, babe, love you" he says, giving her a nuzzle and laying down.
"Love you too, honey," she replies, laying her head on his withers.

Fortunately, sleep did not elude them for long at all.

Author's Note

Happy Turkey Day!

Enjoy a delicious dinner of words! Savory, delicious words! w00t!

Chapter 31: He terk er jerb!

Monday, October 6th, 908 AB (the next afternoon)

With the school day complete, Dawn and Cure trot together on their way to Lemon’s store. Cure is still enjoying school, and he’s feeling conflicted about going through with the testing to try to get out of it.

Early on after his memories had come in he’d promised himself not to deny his parents the opportunity to legitimately raise a foal in him. Then he promptly shat all over the idea by getting his cutie mark, becoming a guard trainer, and in an hour or so, would be essentially applying for a second (or third?) part time job.

He’d talked to his dam at breakfast once the property duo left for the day and, even though she admitted his behavior had, naturally, changed a lot, she was pretty happy with how well he was doing.

Cure hadn’t consciously done anything, but apparently the simple act of snuggling, seeking physical comfort, and constantly reassuring his parents that he treasured them were more than enough to eliminate the “this is an imposter” feeling he suspects would have set in otherwise.

He can certainly agree; objectively looking at his behavior, at least in their interactions, over the last five weeks definitely showcased “Cure” more than “Edward” who could never hope to quickly adapt to the current circumstances. Through the lens of Ed’s memories, many typical behaviors would seem weird, awkward, or even disgusting. That doesn’t even touch on the far more intimate encounters he’s sure are in his future.

He still wasn’t sure whether he actually is Edward or if he’d just inherited his memories somehow, but he figures there’s a good chance he’ll never know unless somepony like Discord drops a truth bomb on him someday. And that’s one encounter he’s happy to put off for as long as possible.

Note to self: Research Chaos Magic and figure out if there’s a way to counter it. There must be since Discord didn’t just zap away the MacGuffins when he was released the second time. Not doing so would be like Superman running around in skin tight underwear instead of some kind of kryptonite-proof suit, and who would actually be that fucking stupid?

Ya know what? Maybe I should set up a music player by the dude’s statue. If I recall, he is supposedly aware of the world around him, and I bet at least some entertainment for the next 90 years would be appreciated when the big day finally comes and he breaks loose. Looney Tunes stupidity aside there’s no reason we couldn’t at least be cordial with each other.

A gentle brush of his shoulder brings Cure out of his musing as he looks over at Dawn with a sheepish smile. “In yer head again, Cure?”

“Maybe. Just thinkin of our future together, babe.”

“Uh huh. And what’s that look like?”

“My dear, the world shall be your oyster,” he says, brushing sides with the filly as they approach the store. “You shall want for nothing, I assure you,” he finishes with a smile, trotting ahead to hold the door open and bowing slightly for her to enter.

With an eye roll she trots in the store, “Well at least you can be trained.”

“Yep, that’s what Amy said too,” he agrees, following her in. “Hey Lemon! How’s the prettiest candy mare in the world doin today?” he calls out. The few other customers glance over and chuckle at the flirtatious colt while Lemon gives a customer their change. Dawn just sighs and shakes her head, following along as he walks right through the “employees only” half-door.

“Hey Cure, baby! Hiya Dawn, how ya doin? Lemme take care of these folks and I’ll be right with ya. Amy’s upstairs with the girls, go say hi.”

Cure and Dawn trot to the back, round the corner and, rather than go into the actual kitchen area where Lemon works, head upstairs to the small apartment-like area they have for Amethyst to watch the girls and where Lemon occasionally retreats for a break during lunch. It’s little more than a restroom and small bedroom, and a living room.

“Amy!” he calls on the stairs, “It’s me and Dawn. We’re on our way up.”

“Heya Cure, howdy Dawn. Whatchya up’ta, colt?” she calls back as he rounds the stairwell and enters the living room area. Amethyst is laying on a cushion with a book open in front of it. She was clearly trying to work with the girls on their letters, but they’re not in sight. As soon as they heard Cure they assumed ambush positions, so he’s set upon the instant he’s clear of the stairwell.

“AHH! PIRANHAS! DAWN, SAVE ME!” he calls out, rolling onto his back as the girls pounce on his chest and belly, giving him little nips and sloppy, wet, poorly executed raspberries. “Dawn! They’re gonna eat my bellies all gones! Heeellpp meeee!” he melodramatically calls out, slowly flailing his hooves in the air before going limp, tongue hanging out his mouth. “I’m dead!” he declares, giving his back hooves one last dying kick.

“We’ll remember him fondly. Mostly. Sort of,” the cruel unicorn remarks.

The girls couldn’t be happier, though. Pleased that their hunt was a success they give each other high-hooves and bounce back to Amethyst seeking approval. “Way ta show that colt who’s boss, girls,” she praises, giving each a nuzzle. “Dawn, if ya don’t mind there’s a trash can outside, just toss that thing in there ‘afore it starts stinkin any worse.”

Rolling upright, Cure scowls at the dark mare. “Hey! I don’t stink,” he whines defensively. With a pout he adds, “Jeez, come here to talk business and see two of my three favorite fillies and everypony picks on me.”

“Baby! Baby! Cure’s a big baby!” the two fillies chorus from the other side of Amethyst.

Mouth hanging open, Cure looks on with disbelief as everypony in the room starts laughing at him. Even Dawn can’t help it, but at least she has the decency to turn away while she’s laughing at the disparaged colt.

Lemon comes up the stairs just a second later, looking around in confusion at the blue colt’s sad pony look. “Girls beat ya up?”

“Yeah, then yer wife said I stink.”

“Well…” she looks at him thoughtfully.

“Hey!”

Holding up a hoof she smiles and insists “Just joking! So, whatcha here for other than the abuse, honey? You two feelin a hankerin for some treats?” she asks, eyes lighting up a little.

“None for me today, thanks though.” Cure declines as Lemon walks over and lays next to her wife. “Dawn’s fully aware of everything now, though, so if she or Solar are around you don’t have to hide the whole biomancer thing anymore. They saw the horn and everything.”

“Ah, well that’s good. Glad to hear you have somepony your own age to share that with. Secrets aren’t easy.”

“Right. Also, I think my dam told you that we got the good news the other day, right?”

“Yep! I’ve already got a few ponies who I know would be interested. A heck of a lot more if you’re offerin what ya gave yer sire,” she finishes with a snicker. Amy whacks her with a knee and motions her head at Dawn, who is looking at Cure questioningly.

“Umm… I did something to increase the odds he could get my dam pregnant,” Cure explains, getting a grimace from Dawn.

Only with his enhanced hearing could he hear Lemon lean over and whisper, “And what a wonderful thing it was, huh babe?” before Amy whacks her again and tells her to be quiet.

“Yeah, well, like I’ve told everypony before. I try to keep the medical stuff private, hence the lack of shared details,” he emphasizes, shooting a glare in Lemon’s direction and getting an apologetic look back. “I don’t think I’m quite ready to offer those kinds of services, though. Maybe just the more traditional cosmetic procedures.”

“You’ll have to talk to my mom and sire to work out some pricing, but aside from Friday afternoons and schooltime I am basically open for business. I dunno where I can meet ponies though… we’re gonna meet with the clinic today to see if I can start an apprenticeship there maybe once a week, but I think I’m gonna keep this separate so I can collect pay.”

“Why not just meet ‘em here?” Amethyst asks. “Just schedule it when me ‘n the girls are out an’ this’d be perfect.”

“Uhh… it actually would work fine. Or I could go to them. I’ll be sure to give you both a cut too, since yer not only providing a location, but also the customers themselves. I’ll leave that to my parents to sort out too; money isn’t really my thing, ya know.”

“We’ll have to do something about that eventually,” Dawn insists while eyeing Cure appraisingly.

“Woo howdy! She’s makin plans for the future already. Got yerself a smart filly dontchya colt?”

“Darn right,” Cure agrees, nuzzling into Dawn’s cheek, “Gotta have somepony be the brains of the operation. Who knows, babe, maybe you’ll get an accounting or business mark at some point. Amy isn’t your mark about valuing things like that?”

Everypony but the two fillies, who are wrestling each other over some toys to the side, looks at Amethyst’s mark. It depicts an old style balancing scale with a pile of gems on one side and the other empty. Despite the obvious difference the scale appears to be balanced.

“How’d ya know that, colt? I don’t think I ever told ya.”

“It’s the most logical assumption based on your mark. It’s showing something generally associated with wealth balanced against something else that’s left blank. I mean… it was either that or you’re really good at figuring out how much stuff weighs, and that seems a lot less useful… unless you ran a shipping company maybe? Or were an engineer, I suppose.”

Cure drifts off in thought, sitting on his haunches while idly scratching at his chin. Lemon and Amy roll their eyes at the colt, Dawn gives him a quick jab just behind his right legpit. “Wake up, you goof.”

“Right, sorry. Was trying to think of other times balancing might be great, like walkin a tightrope.”

“Well,” Amethyst starts, “thankfully that is not my special talent. No, sirree, you ain’t gettin this pony off the ground fer nothin. That aside, yer right. Ya gimme somethin, tell me a bit about it, and I can give ya a pretty good idea ‘a how many bits it’s worth.”

“Huh. I wonder how that works because really valuable stuff is only worth whatever price somepony is willing to pay for it… ya know, like high priced art?”

Getting a shrug back, Cure waves the idle curiosity aside, “Well anyhow, that sounds fantastic and I’ll trust your judgment. If you and my mom and sire can come up with how much the different procedures should cost and, maybe discount it for friends and whatnot, then you all can keep a third and I’ll get the other two.”

“We’ll make a fortune, I bet. We do need to hire an attorney to draw up the waiver forms and whatnot, but creating a blank form shouldn’t cost much… and I bet you could tell them a good number for it, too. I know a cantrip that can reproduce the writing on a page, so we just need the template.”

“Son, I dunno where ya learned to bargain, but a third’s downright cheatin ya. A tenth is normal for referrals.”

“Eh, okay then,” he shrugs. Waving a hoof he continues, “Whatever. I wouldn’t have a workplace or initial referrals without you two, plus whatever pricing services you offer. You can hash that out with my parents if that’s okay. I don’t think I’ll ever want for bits either way.”

“You got that right, colt,” Lemon agrees, “That’s a one-of-a-kind talent right there. You wouldn’t believe how much other doctors quoted me for my belly,” she says, shaking her head in thought. “I still worry about some noble comin after ya, though.”

“Did dam tell you we met with my sire’s grandpa over the weekend?”

“Nope, she did mention you were gonna, though.”

“Yep, we went there on Saturday. He’s a retired guard and apparently still has some decent influence. He knew about that guard and my parents’ business doin well before we even walked in there. I’m fairly confident that if anypony tried to grab me they would end up answering to him. I don’t think it would go well for ‘em, noble or not if ya catch my drift.” Grimacing a bit, both mares nod in understanding.

“Objectively, if you think about it, two thirds of the guard is earth ponies. I could honestly see news comin out that unicorn nobles are actually snatching foals as causing a full-on riot anyhow. Of course, both grandpa and the attorneys said that the princess would be far less than amused if somepony snatched a foal under any circumstances. Finally, the lawyer had one really good point; why bother risking trouble when they can just hire me? I’m a lot cheaper than an attorney for most stuff.”

“Eh, true. Still, keep yer eyes open son. Ya never know who’s out there.”

“Yep. I’m working on a few things for my own defense, so no worries. Even without my talent I’m a lot stronger than I look. I can assure you, anypony tryin to grab me is gonna have a bad time.” Cure pauses a moment to look out the window. No time has actually passed, but that’s the pony equivalent of checking the time on a watch or phone; a nonverbal and socially acceptable way of saying “oh look at the time!” Turning back to the pair he adds, “Well I’m actually gonna go meet my mom and sire in a few minutes, I just wanted to stop by and give you both the good news before we head off to the clinic.”

“Alright, sounds good Cure. Maybe you can watch the girls while we come to some kinda agreement tonight,” Lemon suggests, waggling her eyebrows at Amethyst.

“Sure, I don’t mind watchin the lil predators. I’ll see y’all later,” he calls, turning to head back down the stairs.

“I’ll walk ya out. Break’s about over anyhow,” Lemon says, standing to follow behind Dawn.

Cure and Dawn found Solar on the way to City Hall. With the property duo working in a nearby office the greenspace outside the city hall building was the perfect spot to meet up and wait for them to finish their work day.

The three take up a bench while they wait with Solar on the left, Dawn in the middle, and Cure on the pair's right.

“They should only be a few minutes,” Cure explains. “They told me they’d take off a little early today so we can go before the end of the day shift. Thanks for coming, you two. How’s your dam doing?”

“She’s fine,” Solar starts. “She was pretty embarrassed when we talked last night. She asked for you to come by so she could apologize at some point, Cure. I mean… I don’t think she’s consciously like that, just kinda… ya know?” he finishes, rolling a hoof.

“Unconsciously biased? I get it. I’m not really even that upset by it anymore. It’s certainly not the first time I’ve encountered the issue.”

Wincing a bit, both siblings look away embarrassed for their dam’s behavior, whether their friend is understanding of it or not. Nopony wants to think of their parent as being a bad pony, but sometimes it’s impossible to deny that somepony is doing something categorically wrong no matter how much you love them.

“Oh come on, you two. You’re obviously not biased like that. It’s a thing, and when a pony spends their whole life thinking a certain way it’s not easy for them to change. The fact she’s willing to apologize is huge. Recognizing there’s a problem is the first step in solving it, after all.”

“That’s very mature of you, Cure. I’m glad you feel that way.”

“Me too,” Dawn says, nuzzling into Cure’s cheek. “I’m just glad our sire’s not like that too… who knows if we’d have picked that up if both of ‘em were.”

“Eh… I bet they were both raised around more unicorns, right?”

“Yeah, they’re from Manehattan originally,” Solar explains, “and you know that most cities have a lot more unicorns in ‘em. I’m sure you saw that when you went to meet yer lawyers, though.”

“Yep. At least half of the earth ponies were patrolling guards, so the civilian population of the capital probably is less than ten percent earth pony. It worries me a little when such a large percent of the country’s population is so underrepresented in the capital… that strikes me as a bad situation to have.”

“Well the princess is like all three tribes, so I’m sure she keeps it balanced,” Dawn says.

“Oh yeah, I bet she does a whole lotta farmin up there on that mountain,” Cure snarks. “Then again she’s got flower gardens, I hear. Maybe she does.”

“I’m betting they hire a company for those,” Solar says. “I’m sure she got her hooves dirty just like anypony else back when the country was young though.”

“Yeah… true. I guess I shouldn’t judge until I meet her.”

“Meet her?” Dawn asks, “When would you ever meet her?”

“Sgt. Bulwark said she’ll get my talent registration form sometime this week, so it wouldn’t surprise me if we get a summons at some point. I told you before, rulers gotta watch out for their subjects. I figure she’ll at least wanna make sure I’m not crazy or something.”

Solar shakes his head in disagreement. “She probably gets a dozen of those forms every month, Cure. How much detail did it ask for?”

“Uhh… very little. Name, a drawing of my mark, colors, special talent, address, and that’s about it. I’m sure a copy of my birth certificate went with it too, so they’ll have my demographic info like birth date, sex, parents, tribe, etcetera.”

“I swear, Cure, the way you talk is so weird for an eight year old.” Rubbing his forehead with a pastern, Solar asks, “So… it didn’t ask how much you can change? No actual details about the extent of your ability?”

“No, thank Harmony. If they knew I could hack up a supervirus at the drop of a hat they’d probably panic.”

“Uhhh…” Solar stares at Cure with widened eyes and his mouth hanging open.

“You can do that?” Dawn asks curiously.

“Duh? Yes. Easily. I never would though… you remember my tree, right?”

“Yeah,” she nods.

“I wouldn’t be able to make something like that if I couldn’t analyze viruses too, even if it’s just their surface that I’m working on.”

“Don’t ever say anything like that again, dude. If they knew you could do that they probably would panic. Even I panicked for a split second when you said that.” Solar lets out a deep sigh and asks, “What have you shown anypony so far?”

“Nothin but healing. You were there with Sgt. Bulwark last night. That’s the extent of what they know I can do. I’ll have to clue ‘em in on some stuff for the cosmetics to make sense though. I'd rather they think I'm being up front with them, even if I'm not going full-disclosure.”

“Yeah, that's probably best. None of that sounds scary though,” Solar agrees. “If you’re all registered and whatnot then let them just assume they know everything you can do. If they think you can heal muscles, cure colds, fix up cuts, and maybe do some cosmetic stuff then they’ve got no reason to summon you. Pop a horn on yer head and sprout a pair of wings and it’s a different story... especially if they work.”

“Yeah… damn, I eventually wanted to learn to fly too. Well, I figured I’d wait until I’m older either way. Or I can do the disguise thing I guess.”

“You’re gonna have a hard time learnin to fly when you’re older, Cure,” Dawn points out. “And other pegasi will wonder why a fully grown colt can’t get off the ground, not to mention how big you’ll be compared to the rest.”

“Ah, fudge… I forget how small pegasi are when they’re adults. Yeah, I’ll be like three or four hooves taller than them and twice as wide. That’s not good.”

“You won’t be able to get off the ground,” Solar explains, “You’ll be too heavy.”

“I don’t think that’ll be a problem. When we ran last night I got a look at one feature of the pegasus aura. It reduces their effective mass, which lessens gravity and has a few other effects. My actual weight may not matter much if the aura cancels it out somehow.”

“Dude… you should write an actual paper on this stuff someday.”

“Eh, this is a known thing, it turns out. Your sire is the one who verified that it’s the leading theory when I asked the pegasi on our run.”

“Daddy knows a lot about the other tribes from his medical training. He’s a good pony to ask about stuff like that.”

“Sissy’s right, Cure. He’s also been read in on your actual talent, so as long as you don’t do too much for him to figure out what you can really do he’s probably about the best pony to talk to about stuff like that.”

“Yeah, I’ll keep that in mind. He seems pretty cool so far, though I barely interacted with him.” Nudging the orange filly, Cure asks, “What about you, Dawn. You ever wanna learn how to fly?”

“I dunno… unicorns get cold just on the ground. I think I’d freeze.”

“Yeah but what if you didn’t?”

Dawn looks up in consideration for a minute. After thinking it over she shrugs, “Maybe, I guess. It could be fun for a while. You said the other day that wings wouldn’t work, though.”

“They wouldn’t unless my experiment is a success, which probably also comes with cold resistance, by the way. I bet you’d look really pretty with a set of bright orange and red feathers.”

“You think?”

“Oh definitely. Maybe that can be your Nightmare Night costume. I’ll make ya a fake set of wings and you can be the new princess of fire. Or your brother can be.” Leaning forward to look around Dawn, Cure makes a show of looking the older colt up and down. “Yep, your name’s even close to the boss lady’s. Whadda ya think, Princess Solaris?”

“I will throw you into a trash can, Cure. That’s not funny.”

“Aww but big brother,” Dawn gushes, “you’d make such a pretty princess!”

“Ugh… foals,” he sighs out, dismissing the nuisances.

“Hey Dawn, if I gave yer brother wings and started shouting about Prince Solaris seeking the princess’s hoof in marriage how fast do you think the press would get here?”

“Oh my stars!” she gushes. “The whole country would go insane! The fact that their names and marks are kinda-sorta related is really weird though…”

“Yep, it’s like Harmony just wants it to happen. Hey Solar?” he calls.

“I’m ignoring you both. Shut up.”

“That’s not how ignoring somepony works, doofus. I’m just curious if you got some kinda heat resistance as part of your special talent. I mean it would suck if your own attacks hurt you.”

The idea causes Solar to think for a moment. “Now that you mention it, my heat beams don’t bother me at all…”

“Dawn, could you conjure a tiny flame? Now I’m really curious.”

“Not just a flame. I can catch something on fire, but I can’t just make a flame hover in midair.”

“What about just using a heating cantrip on Solar’s hoof? If you get burned I can heal it.”

“Sure, just very weak, sissy,” Solar says, holding a hoof out.

Focusing on the amount of power, Dawn uses the weakest version of the heating cantrip she can without the spell simply dissipating. Solar seems completely unbothered by it.

“Okay, that’s enough,” Cure tells her. “That was only about sixty five degrees (150°F) which is plenty to scald somepony. I think we can safely say you are heat resistant, at least. We need to test the limit at some point, dude. Sorry, but I bet that’ll hurt. At least it’ll only hurt a moment.”

“Are you okay bro?” Dawn worriedly asks.

“Actually… that was kinda awesome. Thanks, sis,” he says, nuzzling the filly, “and thanks for suggesting it, Cure. I can’t believe I never realized that before…”

“I’d be a little worried if you had tested it, to be honest. The only way to know is to risk burnin yerself, after all. Of course you realize this is another confirmation of my theory…”

“Huh?”

“Your destiny, Solar. It's inevitable...”

“I have no clue where you’re going with this…”

“You were clearly put on this planet to be the princess’s future lover. Good job, champ! Way to set yer sights high!” Dawn bursts out laughing at Solar’s sputtering reaction. “Oof, shame only unicorns are on the menu, eh sport?” he adds with a teasing smile.

“Stars and sun, Cure, sometimes I just want to shoot you.”

“What?” he asks defensively. “All the evidence is here. You can stand the heat,” he says, waggling his brows and causing Dawn’s giggle fit to restart, “your names are so close it’s ridiculous, her talent is raising the sun, and I suspect yours is calling back down a piece of it. Finally, you’ll both have government jobs soon. I can make ya grow a few extra hooves and a set of wings and before ya know it everypony’ll be calling ya King Solaris.”

“You’re absolutely insane, Cure. I don’t know what goes on in that head most of the time, thank the stars, but it must be a bizarre and terrifying place.”

“Ooh! Would him being the king mean I’m a princess?” Dawn asks, ignoring her brother’s grumbling.

Cure sits up and lays himself across her upper back and withers, wrapping his forelegs around her and gently biting the base of her ear. “A decade or so and you’ll have your castle, my princess, all of the benefits, none of the responsibilities except what you choose.” Releasing the ear, he gives it a grooming lick to fix the hairs.

Solar raises an eyebrow at his sister. She’s looking a couple shades darker than normal, but otherwise seems content with the embrace, smiling placidly while nuzzling the side of her cheeks into his chin and her horn into his cheeks.

It’s a relief to know she’s found somepony that’s smart, ambitious, and likely to give her the world on a platter. Even if the colt can be a tad eccentric at times, she’ll certainly never want for anything if the two stick together.

“There’s my parents,” Cure calls. “Let’s go see how this is gonna play out,” he says as he gives one last nuzzle and slides off her back. The three hop down off the bench and make their way to the duo, Cure asking, “Your mom is gonna tell them we’re coming, right?”

“Yep,” Solar explains, “she said she would tell them to expect us a little after school. They don’t usually have very many patients in a given day, what with everypony being an earth pony around here. You all just don’t get hurt often.”

“Nope, not easily, we don’t. Hey ma, hey pa,” Cure calls out, trotting up to give each a nuzzle. “You two wanna get a snack before we go? I dunno how long this’ll take.”

“Snack?” Title asks. “You smell like candy… Did ya pick me up something?”

“Jeez, are you part bloodhound? No, mom, I just stopped by Lemon and Amy’s shop to talk about the cosmetic stuff. Sorry, I didn’t think to grab you anything.”

“Nothin for it, son. We should get goin though, yer dam’s probably gonna have dinner waitin when we get home.” Giving Title a shoulder bump he adds, “Babe you can wait a bit,” earning a scowl from the mare. “Heya Solar, Dawn. How ya doin?” he greets the pair, giving each a hoofbump.

“Hello sir,” both unicorns chorus, Dawn finally fully coming out of her stupor.

“Ha! Sir nothin. Just Deed’s fine, you two. You should join us for dinner if yer dam’s still workin.” Turning in the direction of the clinic, Deed waves for everypony to start moving. “What were ya doin afterwards anyhow?”

“I was going to make dinner for us tonight,” Solar explains. “I mean… if ya don’t mind, that’d be great. We’d love to join you. Mom works late tonight and dad’s on patrol, so…”

Waving a hoof dismissively, Deed assures the colt it’s no problem. “Yer always welcome to come by, son. Celestia knows we got plenty’a food with Vines’ garden out there. I tell ya, we could feed a small army if we hadta.”

“Thanks, dad!” Cure calls. “Maybe afterwards you two can go meet that dashing cousin of yours at the train station. You know, the one that likes to go blastin away at the range?”

“Subtle, dude…” Solar says, rolling his eyes.

“That sounds great!” Dawn happily shouts.

The walk to the clinic isn’t far and the group chats idly along the way. Dawn and Cure talk about their school day, then Deed mentions how well business is doing. Cure asks Title if she’d looked into any opportunities to flex her talent yet, but she says she’s going to wait to take anything on until a few months after the foal is born.

“You realize that, if she’s okay with it, dam could feed the foal, right?”

“Honey, she won’t start producing milk for at least another few months… oh, right. Damn I didn’t even think of that. I dunno, baby… that’s kind of an important bonding time for a dam, especially with my first foal.”

“Yeah, true, I’m just saying she could. I could probably make it something conscious for either of you too, so you just think about producing milk instead of having to rely on your body knowing to do it right. I know some dams don’t produce enough, either. That won’t be an issue.”

“Oh that would be great. I was not looking forward to leaking.”

“Well, you won’t have to worry about that,” he promises.

“You can make automatic functions… not automatic?” Solar asks.

“Oh yeah, of course. Like, for example, I can just never sneeze. That is, unless I wanted to for some reason.”

“But… you sneeze ‘cause something got in yer nose,” Dawn points out, “what do you do with it?”

“Mostly the same as you do, just not violently and all at once. For germs and stuff I catalog ‘em so I can add them to the tree and kill them off. You wouldn’t believe how many germs you run across in a single day. Especially at school. You two won’t get sick as long as I’m around, though.” Looking at Solar he adds, “I don’t think I can do much once you go to Basic, though. Do you ever get like… a weekend off or anything?”

“Sundays are half days, so I could hop on a train and be here in about an hour.”

“Cool, maybe I can meet ya at the train with yer family. Give a quick booster hoofbump and then you can go do what ya gotta do. That way you go back every Monday fully recovered, ready to kick plot.”

“That would be great. I’m sure I’ll get time to just hang out occasionally too, but I’ll have to catch the train back in the evening or I’ll get in a lot of trouble.”

“What else have you changed?” Dawn asks.

“My bones are way tougher, so you could probably drop a house on me and I’d just get a few cuts, but my skin is way tougher too, so not many.”

Walking on three hooves, Dawn runs her fourth down his side. “It doesn’t feel any different.”

“Nah, it wouldn’t. It’s a subdermal layer, so you can’t see or feel it. You would have noticed with all the times we lean on each other anyhow.”

“Wouldn’t that slow you down when running?” Solar asks.

“Not at all. I got the idea from a rhino at the zoo. Those things are way heavier than us and they can go about fifty kph.”

“Jeez, dude… you’ve got the whole package don’t you.”

“Yep, basically. Yer sire would probably freak out if he scanned me.”

“Well they definitely don’t go around doing random scans of ponies. I don’t think most would approve of that without a reason.”

“Yeah, neither do I. There was a minotaur ambassador in Canterlot that I met though. I woulda liked to have scanned him just because he’s the first bipedal creature I’ve ever seen, but the whole international incident thing, totally inconvenient ya know?”

“Right, I hate those. Best to avoid ‘em,” Solar agrees.

“Yep, you know how it is. One little unsolicited magical use on a foreign dignitary and everypony’s all “Oh my Celestia, what’d you do?” and then the newspapers come and it just all goes to Tartarus.”

“Yep, I’m pretty sure that’s exactly what would happen.”

“I feel like you may just be humoring me at this point.”

“Definitely not.”

Cure ignores the older colt. Within a few minutes they’re approaching the clinic. Cure can’t fathom how the Red Cross symbol became associated with medical care in pony world. He knows for an absolute fact that the symbol’s origin ties back to the Geneva Conventions in Switzerland, something he’d mentioned to his parents when he talked about the use of biological weapons.

They verified at the time that there was no such agreement in existence in this world, so how could the color-inverted neutral country’s flag possibly have come to mean healthcare here? Was there even a pony equivalent to the country? He’d never heard of one.

“Does anypony know why the symbol for healthcare is a red cross?” he asks aloud.

“Can’t say I do, sport.”
“No clue, Cure.”
Both unicorns simply shrug.

“Okay,” he says, letting out a disappointed sigh. “I was just curious. Let’s head in.”

The five ponies enter together, with Dawn and Solar approaching the receptionist mare first. She’s a lighter green earth pony teenager, Cure thinks, with a blue mane that matches his coat. “Hey River, is my dam in? She should be expecting us.”

“Oh hi Solar! Yep, lemme go tell her you’re here. Just a sec!”

Looking around, Cure has to agree with Dawn’s earlier statement. There’s not a single patient in the waiting room, so he may just end up working on some kind of “on call” basis instead of a scheduled time.

River returns to her desk after just a few minutes, followed shortly by Emerald Aura and a shorter, gray pegasus mare that Cure doesn’t think he’s ever seen before. This must be the office manager, Ivory Gale. Calling for the group to follow, the two lead them to a small conference room that’s buried back in the same hallway as the examination rooms.

Cure doesn’t get much opportunity to, but he does peek into a few of the exam rooms as they pass by. Other than the size of the rooms they seem nearly identical to what he remembers from most doctor exam rooms in his previous life. They would have to be larger, though, as the quadrupedal form and larger body sizes take up way more floor space than a bipedal at half the weight would.

Seated opposite Emerald and the gray pegasus and between Dawn and his mom, Cure waits for all the other room occupants to get situated. Fortunately they had a few booster chairs for he and Dawn, something he’ll look forward to never needing again in a few years.

“Good afternoon, everypony,” the gray mare starts. “My name is Ivory Gale. Emerald sent word that Mr. Cure Wave,” she pauses to look at Cure questioningly. Once he nods she smiles and continues, “has a very special talent. Before we get started, I just want to make sure I know everypony’s name.” Looking to Deed first, she asks, “Sir, you’re his sire, right? Mr. Clean Deed?”

“Yes ma’am.”

“Thank you. And you, ma’am? You’re his mother, Mrs. Title Search, correct?”

“Yep, that’s me. Nice ta meet ya.”

Smiling softly, Ivory Gale continues, “And it’s a pleasure to meet all of you. Dawn and Solar, how are you both doing? Solar, look how well you’ve shaped up! All ready for Basic, I see.”

“Good Mrs. Gale,” the two say at the same time, Solar adding “Thanks, ma’am, still workin on it.”

“Excellent!” she beams with a little clap. “Now, Mr. Wave?”

“Oh you can just call me Cure, ma’am.”

“Wonderful. Cure? I understand you’ve already registered your talent with the city?” Once Deed and Cure both nod she continues, “Fantastic. Do you have a copy of your registration form?”

“Right here,” Title calls, pulling a piece of paper out of her bag and sliding it across the table.

Gale picks up the form and reads it over before looking at the parents with a beaming smile. “Oh wow. Biomanipulation. That is positively wonderful. I never thought I would see the day that a young foal would show such interest in such a complex field of magic. And I must say, I had always assumed it would have to be a unicorn to properly channel the magic required.”

Pausing to think for a moment, she says, “Then again, greater health and constitution is one of the primary traits associated with earth ponies. I suppose that makes sense, in a way.” With a quick head shake she focuses back on Cure.

“I am the office manager for the Baltimare greater metropolitan area clinics, so I'm responsible for Golden Hills, Ferndale to the south, and Parkdale to the north. Emerald was kind enough to send a pegasus messenger yesterday telling us that a pony in town has a healing special talent. I was asked to come see if I could find you, but Emerald said you planned to come in after school today to seek an apprenticeship.”

“Yes, ma’am. I honestly didn’t realize that all the clinics in the area were connected under the same regional authority. I had considered approaching Baltimare Hospital directly, but I’m a little young to ride the train alone and my parents work and have three foals on the way.”

“Oh my! Congratulations!” She beams, looking between Deed and Title and getting smiles in return. Turning back to Cure she continues, “I am thrilled you’ve put so much thought into this already. You are correct, though, you’re still a little young to be riding the train alone. That may not be a problem, depending on the extent of your abilities, young stallion.”

“What we would like to do is have you begin an apprenticeship in this office and, once you’ve had a little experience and, assuming all goes well, transfer your assignment to Baltimare Hospital. Of course we can provide an escort and security to assure everypony of your safety there and back as well.”

“That… would be fantastic. Dad? Mom?”

“Sounds like a winnin move, sport.”

“Umm… not to doubt you or anything, but it almost sounds… I dunno. A little too good to be true?” Title offers looking around the room. Cure can’t really fault her, the situation is turning out way better than he’d dared hope, and he owes at least a little to Emerald’s foresight.

“Understandable, Mrs. Search. I completely agree that it could appear that way, but let me be honest with you. A pony with even a basic ability to heal others can make an enormous difference. The vast majority of the ponies we see are visiting with cuts, abrasions, or what-have-you that, if treated promptly, won’t become infected or worsen otherwise.”

“If he was a couple years older we wouldn’t even bother with the clinic apprenticeship at all, but we’re concerned he may be overwhelmed working in a busy environment such as Baltimare Hospital without some experience at a slower pace beforehoof.”

“I… yeah, you’re right,” Title agrees, “that makes sense. A metropolitan hospital can certainly be… intimidating, I guess. Better wade in than jump straight in the deep end.”

“Absolutely. So with Cure’s age and his schooling we understand he’s unavailable most days, but how would you feel about coming in on a Saturday morning each week, Cure? Maybe just for a few hours? We can always look at adding more days once you’ve gotten used to it.”

“Sure. That sounds good. I’ll be meeting the guard on Fridays, so that’s perfect.”

“Wonderful! If I may ask, though, in what capacity will you be working with the guard? You're far too young for their Junior Guard program."

"I think they only have that in the city," Emerald explains.

"I'll be helping clear fatigue and heal up muscles during exercise so they can get more out of a single workout."

"Oh! That certainly explains how you're all in such wonderful shape! What a fantastic way to use your talent, young stallion." Refocusing on the subject, she clears her throat before continuing. "Now, this coming Saturday is a little too soon for us to get all of the paperwork filed, but how would you feel about starting on the 18th?”

“Okay. What time does the clinic open?”

“We open a little later on the weekend,” Emerald explains. “What do you think, Gale? Does ten to noon sound good?”

“That sounds like a great start to me. Now I don’t think it’s necessarily appropriate for me to discuss wages with everypony else here, so I would like to ask if everypony but Cure and his parents could please excuse us for a moment.”

Emerald, Dawn, and Solar all stand to leave, with Dawn nudging him and whispering, “We’ll wait in the lobby,” before walking out the door.

Once the door is shut Ivory, Title, and Deed begin negotiations.

Cure isn’t sure if twenty five bits an hour is fantastic or utter crap. It sounds pretty good, especially for a kid’s first job, but compared to how much the enchanting supplies, inks, papers, and other stuff his parents have bought for him it just doesn’t seem like very much. Then again, this is just an apprenticeship and there’s no way that an eight year old should expect to walk in and suddenly command hundreds of bits per hour of work.

Well… unless the cosmetic surgery thing pans out like he hopes it does. He’s not sure how much he should charge for a procedure like Lemon’s, but assuming it’s only a few hundred bits, that’s something he can do in like ten minutes. And two hundred bits for a tummy tuck is insane when there’s zero recovery.

Very little directly translates to human standards, but he knows cosmetic procedures cost tens of thousands of dollars normally, and the recovery for a lot of those is nothing short of horrifically painful and takes months or even a year before the patient is back to 100%.

Emerald had asked to speak with Cure, Deed, and Title once they were done talking to Ivory Gale. She seemed sincere when she apologized, but Cure isn’t sure if she legitimately feels bad, is placating her family, or if she just realizes the value Cure’s talent represents.

Finished with his food, he looks around the table. Dawn is to his left by his dam and Solar sat next to him. They are clearly enjoying the fresh garden fare, something he realizes he’s probably taken for granted.

Note to self, give dam more massages. And maybe work on that lavender night light plant I keep forgetting about since she seems hesitant to upgrade her eyes.

“So I have to ask… is twenty five bits an hour like… high or low or about right?”

“That’s like six times what I made at the grocery store last summer, dude.”

“Oh. So… low?”

Solar just rolls his eyes and keeps eating. “The food is absolutely wonderful, Mrs. Vines,” he compliments. “I don’t think I’ve ever had produce with so much flavor, actually.” Looking to Cure he asks, “Did you like… improve the veggies somehow or is yer dam just that good?”

Cure answers before the blushing mare has a chance to, “Oh that’s like maybe 10% me, 90% her. Credit where it’s due, though, my sire and mom helped too, so maybe 75/10/10/5? You shoulda seen the three of them in their group casting thing, Solar. It blew my ears back, I tell ya.”

“What?” Dawn asks. “Group casting thing?”

“Yeah, you remember how I suggested you may be able to share magic?” At her nod he explains, “Well the idea for that came up a few weeks back. Dam’s talent is at least partially related to growing food, so mom and dad and her all did a group thing and the whole friggin garden grew like four weeks worth in a minute. It was awesome.”

“Huh… that’s sorta like a little ritual, basically,” Solar says with an approving nod. “Very impressive. I didn’t know earth ponies could do that. Then again, you’re kind of all about screwing up my world view, so whatever. Still, very tasty, everypony. I’ll hafta tell my dam to come see you at the market next Sunday.”

“That’s very sweet of you to say, Solar. If you’d like to take some home with you please just let me know,” Vines offers.

“Thanks, Mrs. Vines. Maybe next time. We were gonna go to the range after dinner tonight if that’s okay with you three.”

“Gonna do the train trick, Cure?”

“You bet, mom. I’ll just duck in the bathroom when I see the train approaching, wait until it stops, then wander out in disguise, just like you suggested. I can’t imagine anypony is gonna be watching close enough for it to matter.”

“Just be careful, sweetie. Make sure you follow the rules at the range.”

“Solar’s been there plenty of times, right dude?”

“Sure have. Don’t worry, ma’am. We’ll probably be the only ponies there. Not many unicorns, ya know? Besides, from what he was telling us earlier I’m not sure Cure would be in any danger even if he ran out there and danced around. It sounds like he’s made himself darn near invincible.”

“That’s the goal at least.”

“No dancing on the range, honey.”

“Fine, dam.” Looking to Solar he mouths “Totally gonna” and starts snickering.

Finishing his last few bites, Solar looks over to Cure’s empty plate and asks, “How the hay did you eat so fast? I know you had as much food as I did.”

“I dunno. Probably because I don’t really need to breathe, so I can just shovel it all in at once basically.”

“What?” Dawn asks. “What the hay do you mean you don’t need to breathe?”

“Ah, well, I don’t need to breathe as much. I could probably stop breathing for a while, but yeah, I can kinda breath through my skin as well. I think I forgot to mention that.”

Solar hikes an eyebrow and asks, “Ya think?”

Cure just shrugs back at the red colt.

“Well… okay then. We better get goin if we’re going to have much daylight. Day’s are getting shorter, so we’ll only have about an hour or so. Not that yer magic will last that long anyhow,” he explains while standing.

Hopping down from his seat, Cure agrees with him. “Probably not, no. Still, I’m excited to finally cast an offensive spell. So far it’s been all lights and illusions and cleaning and that stuff. Not a whole lotta fun there, ya know?”

“Just be careful, sport. Don’t blow yer horn off, okay?”

“Always good advice, dad. Don’t worry, I’ll be back before dark.”

Hopping down from her spot beside Cure, Dawn joins the two as they head for the door, Solar calling over his withers as they leave. “Thanks again for having us, everypony. It was probably the best meal I’ve had in like… forever. Really. We’ll see you all later.”

The train trick worked like a charm. Cure, being the paranoid type that he is, separated from the pair and went to the station early. He spent fifteen minutes watching everypony that even glanced his direction. He also kept a wary eye on the sky in case some pegasus was watching him from a mile away, but after cutting off line of sight from various angles and finding nopony spying on him, he casually trotted into the restroom to wait for the train to pull up. Once a passenger opened the door to use the facilities he trotted out in disguise and took off to the north to meet back up with the siblings.

Cure estimates it’s around seven by the time they get to the range. Rather than the quite distinctive royal blue / forest green colors he’d used the other day, he instead went with something a lot more subtle like Dawn had originally suggested. He had a brown coat and slightly darker brown mane and tail. He made his coat noticeably fluffier, which actually hid his bulk a little, sort of. He was still wider than a unicorn his age but the longer fur made it hard to tell it was muscle or fluff underneath.

The unicorn firing range is completely empty. Cure had expected more, but in reality there just isn’t enough of a unicorn population to accommodate a fancier, high end range of any sorts. Also, amongst the unicorn population hardly any, according to Solar, have any desire to go to the range at all. The range is nothing more than a field with mounds of dirt at different distances from the firing line. There wasn't anypony there to keep an eye on anything going on at all, so the three have free rein to try whatever they want.

It was only about a kilometer north of town, which meant that at a full sprint Cure could probably run home in under ten minutes, though he’d have to duck in somewhere to reverse his disguise. The train station worked fine, so he planned to just keep using that.

“So… I gotta be honest. I’ve got no clue how to aim or anything. Is it literally just a matter of visualizing the firing path and it’ll go there?”

“Uhh yeah? How else would you aim?”

“No idea. It just seems a little easy. How the hay do you ever miss?”

“Most don’t, Cure,” Dawn explains. “The only time a unicorn should ever miss is if the target is outside of their aura, if they can dodge fast enough, or if there’s some kind of distraction. Also, the aura just helps. You still gotta use yer eyes mostly.”

“Riddle. Try to get in the habit, Dawn. Besides, my aura probably isn’t as big as yours. Not a unicorn, remember?”

“Aura range is basically just dependent upon your horn size, Cure,” Solar explains. “You and Dawn should have the same range. If you made your horn the same size as mine your range would increase to match.”

“Oh yeah… I did try increasing the horn size once and that made a difference.”

“Normal unicorns,” Solar starts, giving Cure a sidelong look, “usually top out around twenty centimeters, with average closer to seventeen or so. I don’t know the actual formula, but usually you can figure a unicorn has a meter and a half for every centimeter of horn length.”

“Ah, so somepony like the princess could smack ya around from down the street and you couldn’t fight back?”

“Ehh, not exactly. You can mitigate that with shields, but they would have a huge advantage. There’s probably an upper limit on aura range at some point, but I don’t think anypony has ever asked Her directly.”

“Damn, I shoulda been helpin ya with that the whole time too. Do you want me to make it longer?”

Solar visibly blushes while Dawn snickers off to the side. “Oh my stars, Cure,” she starts.

“Riddle!” he interrupts.

“Right, Riddle, I can’t believe you just asked my brother if he wants a bigger horn.”

“See? That kinda reaction is exactly why I don’t joke around with medical stuff at all. I don’t particularly care if your brother asks for a bigger horn or a bigger dong, Dawn,” he explains to her indignant squawk and Solar’s further darkening hue, “I’m not going to laugh, make jokes or anything like that because then ponies won’t feel comfortable talking to me about those things.”

“I… uhh… appreciate the offer. Both, as strange as they are to hear, but I’m good. Thanks.”

“Sorry Cure,” ignoring the “Riddle!” she looks to her brother, “sorry Solar. Riddle,” she pauses to glare at Cure, who’s smiling smugly, “is right. There is an advantage to having,” she sniggers saying, “a bigger horn, after all. You’ll want to go slow,” she full on guffaws this time, “though so nopony notices anything weird.”

“No, I’m sure you noticed it used more magic when you were… umm… experimenting with your horn,” he pauses to look between them, “Riddle. Maybe in a year or two once I’m fully grown I’ll reconsider.”

“Alright, that’s not a bad idea. It could definitely draw some curious attention if you’re walkin around with a twenty two centimeter horn if they don’t usually get over twenty.”

“Uh huh,” Dawn barely gets out between laughs, “I bet it would get plenty of attention from the mares.”

Both colts just sigh at the cackling filly. She’s too young, in Cure’s opinion, to really tease her much, even though she’s clearly old enough to trash talk. Still, making sex jokes with her at this age just feels wrong, so Cure lets the matter drop.

“So aside from the range idea,” Solar starts, valiantly ignoring his chuckling sister, “got any other insane cheat ideas, C… Riddle?”

“Not yet, but if I ever had to go full war mode I have some ideas that are kinda unique. I’m not sure if I should share though. I definitely freaked my mom and sire out the other night.”

“Okay, this I gotta hear.”

“Mom was teasing me with baby talk so I smiled at her with too many sharp teeth.”

“I’m not sure I understand,” Dawn says, “How can you have too many teeth?”

“I added teeth further back and smiled way bigger than normal.”

“That sounds kinda disturbing,” Solar notes.

“Wanna see an illusion of it?”

“Yer damn right I do.”

“Look away, Dawn. This is not meant for innocent minds. Innocent-ish either.”

Once she turns around Cure casts the spell. Instead of projecting it on the ground he casts it so it’s hovering in front of Solar, mouth wide open mid-pounce.

With a screeching yell he dives away from the image. “AHH! SHIT! Dude! What the fuck, Cure?”

“Riddle!” he yells while cracking up.

“Riddle my plot, I almost pissed myself.”

“Ohhh that was good. Yeah,” Cure agrees with an amused nod, “that was pretty funny.” Giving Dawn a nudge he says, “you shoulda seen yer brother diving away. I don’t think I’ve ever seen him move that fast.”

“I’m not looking,” Dawn insists. “Tell me when you stop, I don’t need to see that. Just imagining it is bad enough.”

“It’s gone. I wouldn’t have wanted ya to see that anyhow. It freaked my parents out so bad I had to go comfort them just so they could sleep. Watching yer brother try a somersault was fun though,” he says chuckling at the annoyed colt.

“We better get to work before the sun sets,” he starts, then mumbles “or I decide to change targets.”

“We should test your fire resistance before starting so I’ll have plenty of magic to heal you with.”

“Stars this is gonna suck…”

“Yeah but imagine what a huge advantage knowing could give you. If somepony is using heat attacks you can feign needing to shield and dodge until they get overconfident. Then you can just ignore their attacks while launching your own and totally catch them off guard. Or you could start a fire to block their sight and charge through it and surprise 'em.”

“True… alright, Dawn are you ready?”

“Yep!”

“Alright, babe, pick up where we left off. Yell stop the instant you start feeling discomfort, not pain, okay Solar?”

“Yeah, you don’t have to worry about that.”

Unfortunately it only takes a minute to find the limit. Cure estimates it to be somewhere around boiling as he’s patching the toasted hoof back up. “We’ll have to try one more thing next time we’re at my house,” he explains.

“What’s that?” Dawn asks as she’s leaning into Solar, “I hope you aren’t going to have me hurting my brother anymore, Cure. That was awful when he jumped.”

“It’s fine, sissy. It just surprised me when it went from a “present” sensation to pain so fast. I guess once my tolerance point is passed my talent basically cuts off.”

“Well, we know approximately where your limit is on direct magical applications now. We need to see if other objects can burn you. We can just heat up a bowl of water and you can quickly dip a hoof in until we find your limit. The nice thing is we can actually get the temperature with a candy thermometer.”

“That’s not too bad I guess. I’ll be able to tell if it’s too hot before it even burns me.”

“Yep. There, you’re good to go. Now, let’s get to work!”

Cure legitimately has fun blasting away at the mounds of dirt. He does jack all for damage, but with a belly full of food he pushes his magic regeneration to the limit. Cycling through a variety of projectile spells gives him a feel for how each one actually works.

The basic unicorn beam attack is a purely concussive blast. The same is true for the basic shield panel that a unicorn can project in front of themselves. They’re all just versions of unicorn levitation, which is a misnomer. It truly is a telekinetic effect.

In his mind he associates “levitation” with lift and move, the beam with a punch, and the shield with a palm held out to “catch” a projectile, though deflecting is much, much easier than fully stopping a hit.

Actual spells are infinitely better for most purposes. They allow for far more specialized effects and offer significantly more control than just “push magic out.” The different projectile spells are a helluva lot of fun and remind Cure of some good times he used to have plinking away with his little Walther P22, though he’s certain the 22LR cartridges are far deadlier than anything he could fire off.

“When unicorns fight do they usually use spells or do they just blast away?” he asks Solar.

“Spells are better, but if you’re about to get nailed then you gotta do what you gotta do. Honestly, the whole horn upgrade thing will change… just so much about how I learn to fight. Usually if you see a hit coming you just push out a shield to slow or deflect it. I’ll be able to cast a specialized spell fast enough and save a ton of magic doing so, with better results also.”

“Hmm… true.”

Almost all of the projectiles have some variable input mechanism in the casting that allows additional power to be dumped into the spell for a more potent effect, though many have an upper limit before, as best he can tell, the spell will simply lose cohesion, and they tend to do so violently.

Cure has almost no memories of doing electrical work. In fact, Ed fucking hated doing anything electrical after nearly losing a finger changing out a light fixture. He learned to always turn off the master breaker instead of just the one breaker after a light fixture happened to have another breaker’s wires passing through in addition to the one the light was actually on.

Regardless, from his very limited electrical know-how, Cure compares a spell’s energy storage structure to a capacitor; one with a finite capacity. The pony, in this analogy, is the battery or generator that’s supplying the juice. Too little and nothing happens. Too much and the spell will typically detonate on the spot. The energy has to go somewhere, after all.

Fortunately or not, the capacity on the spells is a few orders of magnitude above anything he could possibly manage at his current power levels, so he could dump everything he has into most of the spells and still barely do anything actually destructive.

The whole thing makes Cure suspect that the “magical burst” thing that was shown in the cartoon is utter nonsense, as he can’t come up with any logical way a eight kg infant could possibly generate a blast that would punch a hole in a ceiling unless alicorns are just pure concentrated BS. Or if there’s some stupid nonsensical crap going on behind the metaphysical veil.

Fortunately the spells all have a lower limit that is within his castable range. A lightning bolt at full power would split a tree in half, whereas his output is much more like a stun gun. The effect would be worthless against a pony like in the foalnapping scenario he had mentioned to his parents, since everypony already has some lightning mitigation capabilities.

In order to really damage another pony either a different element or a heavier cast would be necessary.

The more expensive projective spells are the kind that use a physical element in them. A perfect example is the ice dart spell, which launches a sharpened ice “nail” basically at high speeds.

Pouring additional magic into the spell on the right runes will increase the size of the projectile, while altering a few runes allows for multiple projectiles to be generated; the size variable based on, again, magic poured in. Other runes can be empowered to increase the projectile speed, at least to a limit.

As best he can tell that limit seems to be a little under a hundred meters per second, with “standard” casts going at roughly half that speed. The predator part of his brain screams for him to find an alternative runic structure to allow for faster projectile speed, but the book he bought doesn’t have that information and the magic cost would be prohibitive at the moment anyhow.

Cure can imagine a powerful unicorn blowing their whole load and launching potentially hundreds of ten centimeter shards at an enemy column and, without proper armor, disabling a large number of opponents all at once. It would also exhaust the caster, but if they could take a few dozen enemies with them it could make a huge difference as an opening move in a battle.

Spells like that could have other unicorns supply power through group casting with additional runes placed at the start of the spell. This is slightly inefficient, but a talented artillery mage with a few assistants supplying additional power can really put down some hurt. A major limitation is that the horn muscles will become exhausted, and running that much power through the horn definitely can burn out nerves, permanently disabling the caster.

The other disadvantage is that it is typically less expensive to defend than it is to attack, simply because there is an amount of energy necessary to get a projectile from the source to the destination, whereas defensive measures are cast near or right at the point they need to be.

Of course, the scale tends to balance out due to defenders overcompensating as they’ll not usually have an exact measure of how much magic power or kinetic force is coming down the line. A shield with 1000 units of magic holding it together won’t deflect a 100 unit attack any better than would a 105 unit shield.

Some of that difference can be withdrawn back out of the shield as powering it is an active channeling effect, but there’s still some loss for establishing it and withdrawing it, so it’s definitely not free to overestimate an attack by too much.

Cure is certain at this point that a larger, sturdier horn like alicorns have can definitely handle far more throughput than a typical unicorn. Cure can’t remember the formula to determine the volume of a cone off the top of his head, so instead he does the math for half of a rectangle. It’ll be inaccurate as hell, but should still give him an idea of the difference, assuming volume matters at all.

His horn is about 6.5 centimeters long and 2.5 centimeters diameter at the base. 3x3x6 is 9x6, so 54. He figures cutting that in half should be a very rough overestimate for his horn volume, so 27 cm3.

The princess has an enormous fucking horn, the size of which he has no clue. From the picture in his mom’s history book it’s just a little less than the length from her withers to the top of her head. He figures 100 cm is as good as anything since he’s basically pulling numbers out of his ass anyhow. Assuming a six cm base, which is likely way too small, she would be clocking in at half of 3600, or 1800 cm3.

So if that’s how it works then his horn’s maximum output is maybe 1.5% of hers, but probably far less.

He has no idea if volume truly matters, or if the relationship is linear or some exponential thing, but it seems logical enough that it could be a possibility. He’ll have to use his memory trick to log some formulas and other useful things next time he goes to the library, he notes.

Shaking himself out of thought he gets back to the purpose of the trip… blasting away at stuff.

His favorite spell thus far? Guided magic missiles. They can turn or arc and hit the target he visualizes, even if the target is outside of his aura range as long as he supplies enough power. He chuckles a bit as he recalls that shitty movie Wanted and how ridiculous the whole idea of bending a bullet’s path was, and now he’s doing it with magical bean bag rounds shooting out of his forehead.

As best he can tell the spell leaves a tracer conduit in the missile’s wake that allows for some steering correction as they travel, reminiscent of a wire-guided missile system he loved using in Battlefield video games to shoot down unsuspecting helicopter gunships.

He could see that being a potential weakness of the spell as it would allow an enemy caster to easily track the shot back to its source. Still, against non-magical targets it was a fairly reliable way to land a staggering hit, even if each missile didn’t have a lot of individual impact. The spell had a whole host of alternative casting methods as well, with different runic structures for various payloads available.

Cure had to assume that the explosive payload is restricted, though he has memorized a decent selection of options including ice, fire, water, and an electric discharge. It’s when he’s testing out the different effects that it occurs to him that there may be a discernable pattern in the ones that carry a physical payload.

The four variants he knows are all identical except for one sequence. Cure makes note of these sets of runes and tells himself to look into the different conjuration spells to see if there’s a pattern he can exploit. Specifically, he wants to see if there’s a correlation between vibration patterns and chemical compositions.

Any spell that generates water must be somehow creating hydrogen and oxygen. If a spell can create H2O it should be possible to separately make a spell to create H2 and O2, and with a two-to-one ratio and a little fire mixed in… boom.

Maybe not in the destructive sense at such low volume, but a small hydrogen explosion in somepony’s face will certainly rattle their brain a bit.

It’s nearly time for the group to split up when he gets a wild idea.

“Hey Solar, got enough magic to use yer heat beam?”

“Yeah, but only for a moment. Why?”

“Mind if I try scanning your horn’s vibration pattern while you do it? I’m curious if I can replicate it at all.”

“Huh… I’ve never heard of anypony trying that before. No, go for it. Ready?”

“Yep, fire away.”

Cure knows from his experience that duplicating special talents isn’t as simple as copying their spell, but he’s hopeful that he’ll gain some insight into how everything works. While actively scanning he watches as Solar blasts away, slagging a nearby hill. And learns nothing at all, just like when he got burned earlier.

As expected, there is no vibration pattern to copy. Solar is just firing a standard beam and, somehow, his talent is altering the effect entirely on the metaphysical side that he can’t observe.

“Well fudge. You’re not even casting a spell for me to copy. Your horn vibrates the same as if you were shooting any standard beam.”

“Yeah I’m not surprised. That seems like something somepony would have tried before.”

“Uhh… Cure?” Dawn hesitantly calls. “Why is your cutie mark like Solar’s?”

“Riddle! Err… wait, what?” With a half turn Cure shows his mark and, just as Dawn said, it’s a large yellow beam coming down from the sky with orange lines pointing away from the impact site.

“Oh my stars… what did you do?” Solar asks, leaning down to get a better look.

“I dunno, but I don’t feel right. Ohhh,” he moans, wobbling on his hooves, “I think it’s changing again!” he shouts as a very familiar stylized sun appears on his flanks causing both unicorns to recoil.

“What the fuck?!” Solar shouts, leaning away from the younger colt.

“Nnnn oh no! Help me!” he weakly calls as the sun disappears and a picture of Solar and Dawn’s dam’s scowling face appears. “Ahh there. I’ve finally found my real special talent. Pissing off yer dam. Look how angry she is!”

“Damnit Cure,” Solar starts ignoring the yelled out “Riddle!” while rubbing at his forehead, “yer gonna get yer rear kicked one of these days, I swear. Now get my dam’s face off yer flanks before I’m the one that does it.”

Gasping, Cure jumps away from the older colt. “You’d kick yer own dam’s face? No wonder she doesn’t like me, we start hangin out and now ya turn all violent. For shame!”

Altering the image it shows her upper half waving a scolding hoof. “Look how disappointed she is! You’re gonna make yer dam cry!” Next he has big tears fall from the picture. “Poor thing…” he says, petting his own flank and getting a pleased smile from the image, which he then rolls on its back like a happy puppy. “Who’s da good Emmy? You is! Yes you is!”

Dawn just watches the whole thing in bewildered amusement.

“You really are crazy aren’t you?”

Cure responds by holding two hooves just a centimeter apart between his face and Solar. “Just a tad.” Sitting on his haunches he points a hoof at Solar while explaining, “In my defense, you’d be crazy too if you got a good look at everypony’s everything anytime you used yer talent.”

“Okay yeah, that sounds unpleasant. That aside we need to get going. You coming?”

“Sure, I’ll walk ya home. If anypony asks I’m just some colt you met in town for the day from Baltimare. You didn’t ask why I was in town.”

“Sure. Let’s go.”

Following along with Dawn and Solar on his right, a thought occurs to Cure. “Hey, just curious, do you have a way to block my talent at all? Like… can you actively fight it?”

“Not that I’ve noticed. I mean, I haven’t tried, but there’s just nothing to push against. I could try a shield spell, though. They interfere with our aura, so I bet that would make it so you can’t target me. It’ll be a weak shield, so don’t hit it, please. The feedback when they break is unpleasant.”

“Okay, yeah, I’m not actually gonna hit you or something. Besides, have you tried since the horn upgrade? I thought I fixed that backlash issue.”

“I… hadn’t considered that, actually. Dude if that works I’ll be thrilled. You usually have to make a shield stronger than you’d want to just so you’re not disabled when it breaks. Go ahead and test your talent, then give it a tap.” Activating the shield while walking, Solar gives Cure a questioning look.

“Yeah that cut me off. I can’t target you anymore. That sucks.” Trotting beside the older colt, Cure winds up and gives the shield a whack with his foreleg. The bubble pops instantly, but he has enough muscle control to not hit Solar, something the older colt probably doesn’t even realize he should be grateful for.

“Sweet Celestia, just another thing, huh? I felt it break, but whatever reinforcement you added turned it from an annoying throb into a mild tick. Just enough to know the shield went down without hurting.” Looking over to Dawn he adds, “I swear, sis, if you weren’t already a couple I’d almost consider dating him just to keep him around.”

“Eww!” she yells, scrunching up her muzzle in disgust.

“Ha! Hear that, Sunrise,” Cure turns around and hops backwards while talking to her, “Yer not the only unicorn after this fine hunk’a pony,” he teases, waving a hoof in front of himself. Pointing at Solar he goes on, “You got competition now. Better step up yer gaaaa~ame,” he finishes, drawing out the word.

“Ugh, he’s all yours,” she says, trotting past him.

Stopping in place, Cure watches her continue on. Ensuring he’s loud enough for her to hear, Cure starts following behind her while saying, “Jeez… that’s just cold. I’ll tell ya, Solar, these unicorn mares… I just don’t know what to do with ‘em.”

“They’re somethin, aren’t they?”

“Yep, I’m startin ta suspect there must be some feedback goin down those horns that makes ‘em overly aggressive or somethin. The frontal lobe is right under the thing, ya know? Maybe we oughta move yer horn somewhere safer so it’s not messin with yer brain so much. How about a big ‘ol honkin dorsal fin horn on yer back?”

“That sounds awful. I’ll pass.”

“Think of the range you’ll get, though. You just gotta remember to duck when yer blastin away, don’t wanna shoot yerself in the back of the head, yanno?”

Snorting out a laugh at the image, Solar just shakes his head, “I think I’m happy with my current horn placement, Cure. Thank you for the concern, though.”

“Riddle. Just sayin, gotta watch out for mah bro ‘n all. I can fix most things, I’m not sure I wanna try fixin crazy. ‘Course I guess my only options are to learn to live with it or start diggin dudes, and as pretty as ya are you just don’t do it for me, Solar. You belong to the boss lady anyway.”

With a deep sigh, Solar ignores the (currently) brown colt and catches up to his sister.

Cure walks with the two until they’re about a block away from their house, then splits off to the train station. It only takes about fifteen minutes before the evening train pulls in, at which point he ducks into the restroom, makes his change, removes his horn, and trots back home, satisfied with everything he’d learned for the day.

Author's Note

I think in a comment a while back I said that a typical pony size breakdown (at the withers) is roughly 48" for EP, 44" for Unicorn, 40" for Pegasus, all males. Females are just a couple inches shorter. A "hoof" is four inches, so Cure expressed a desire to be about 50-52" inches tall before (I think a half hoof or so taller than his sire) but Deed wanted to be "a half hoof" taller, so the goal for Deed is 50" and Cure is still undecided what height he ultimately wants to aim for, but likely somewhere in the 52-54" range. I have griffon males and females both coming in at/slightly above unicorn height on average. These numbers are all averages, though, but typically an individual pony's height won't even be mentioned unless it matters, so just assume that most are average

Keep in mind that's at the withers. IRL a horse's neck is about 55%-60% of their height @ the withers, but MLP ponies have proportionally shorter (as in, body length, not height) bodies. Really, scale, height, etc. is just all over the friggin place in the show, but the length from the top of most ponies' heads down their neck to their withers is about the same as the length from that same spot to their tail.

In this story I've definitely gone with a more horse-like body (though a more MLP pony-like face), and I plan to continue doing so. In my mind, Deed will end up around 50" tall and will have a body length of about the same. His neck should be a little under 28", but again, that measures from the withers, so even fully upright it'll add about 20 to 24 inches onto his height, which would put him just a hair under eye level with our minotaur from Canterlot (who, btw, is on the shorter side of average for a minotaur, but he's a diplomat, not a warrior).

I'll try to remain consistent throughout, but I'm not going to sweat over tiny details. If I make an absolutely bone-headed statement please do point that out, though.

I think I referred to this once before:
https://scifi.stackexchange.com/questions/15664/what-is-the-relative-scale-of-the-my-little-pony-universe
There's a good, consistent chunk that starts with "I just saw this yesterday." towards the bottom. Fluttershy is indicated to be about 38" from hoof to ears, or (If I'm mathing right) about 22" to her withers. That's a smol pony; shorter than Cure is right now by ~3 inches and about 16" less than a typical adult female pegasus in my story. The pokemon there is actually visually closer to the way I envision these ponies, though, again, the face is more like traditional MLP characters, just with more realistic proportions (esp. the eyes!).

The goliath earth pony at the rodeo, as well as the ones Rusty references in the gym, tower over most ponies at about 6' at the withers. I don't want to give out spoilers, but both times I've referenced these ponies I've included a line about how they're approximately the same size as the princess. I know at the rodeo, at least, I also pointed out how much it would suck to be a fully 30% taller than average without the infinite purse the crown has.

I don't know how people that are over 7.5ft tall get by unless they're pro athletes or otherwise wealthy. Take everything you do in life, then add 50% for custom make, never mind flying, buying a car, etc. Ugh... no thanks!

So, another arguably more important note that I'll probably add to the story description. The way I am writing this story is that once I've hit "publish" on something I'm committed to it. Several folks have addressed valid concerns about OP-ness and how it ruins a story. I disagree; about half of the stories out there feature a protagonist that is OP and I've also pointed out that almost any character in MLP especially could be overpowered but being a child's cartoon none of them put much effort into doing so.

In the context of a peaceful, laid back semi-utopian society with an all-powerful benevolent leader, this absolutely makes sense. Especially if, culturally, every generation is raised seeing the previous one perfectly happy to just kinda go through life with a chill attitude. Look outside of Ponyville even during canon and, overwhelmingly, most days are just normal days, so what would ever push a normal pony to go to the lengths that Cure's pushing Solar to do? Not much, unless they have some specific ambition maybe, i.e. Starlight Glimmer or Tempest Shadow.

Anyhow, back to my point; rather than giving up and abandoning the story, if I do something really stupid or miss some important thing and don't have a good reason why that happened, I'll just play along and own it for the rest of the story. The best example off the top of my head is Cure healing Dawn's eyes. I actually had a note in my story calendar for a chapter around story date 11/1 where Cure finally reveals to the two what all he can do and offer to buff up Solar over the next 2 months to get him ready for Basic.

The chapter where I ended up doing the reveal was going to be titled "Natural Male Enhancement" because of the whole thing with Deed. I did the illusions purely as a joke to embarrass Dawn and Vines, then thought, "man there's no way you'd be able to envision a full, perfect rendering of another pony like that" and it just kinda all clicked that, not only would Deed be getting enhanced, but so would Solar. Horn enhancements for everypony!

Seriously, though, that was going to be a whole separate chapter, so he and Dawn found out about Cure like... a month and a half before I'd planned on having the big reveal.

So yeah, I may at some point accidentally write myself into a corner, but the plan is to deal with that story-wise and go from there. If you see an inconsistency or a bone headed move in the story put a comment in. If I screwed up then, sorry for Cure and fam, but he'll just have to live with it.

Thanks!

Chapter 32: Running of the Leaves

Friday, October 17th, 908 AB (11 days later)

“So, are y’all runnin today?” Heavy Lift asks the group. School had let out early and the four that lived nearby each other were headed home for lunch.

Cure shakes his head no, “I can just for fun but I hadn’t really planned to. It’s a little unfair for me to actually compete.”

Scoffing, the gray colt bumps Cure’s shoulder. “Just cause you can run far doesn’t mean you can beat everypony in a short race.”

“I’m not sure, Heavy,” Delta Coast starts, “I’m pretty sure he can run at a full gallop the whole way.”

Ferric Shine gives both colts a once-over look. Cure seems like he may be a smidge taller, probably because he got his mark. He’s definitely a thicker build than Heavy is, with considerably bigger legs and larger muscles on his neck, chest, shoulders, and hips. “How fast can you actually gallop, Cure?”

“Like… full on sprint gallop? The last time I tried to go all out was a month ago but I only went about two thirds of a kilometer from home to the edge of the park. It took me about a minute. I’m guessin that if I absolutely burned everything maybe 55 kph. I haven’t tested myself to be sure.”

“Cow manure!” Heavy yells. “I’ll believe that when I see it!”

“I literally just said I’m not sure. I bet everypony in our group will be a lot faster than you expect, though. Know anywhere that’s exactly a kilometer to find out?”

“The race is a five k run,” Coast offers. “If you don’t wanna run today you could just run it tomorrow and we could time ya. Or, better yet, let’s just use the path they have laid out for the foal’s run.”

“Good idea, Coast. I don’t think they’d want us running in the main event anyhow. They don’t want a foal getting trampled accidentally if they fall or something.”

“Yeah,” Ferric agrees, “the foal’s run should be exactly a kilometer anyhow. By the way, Cure, I still have your book, don’t forget.”

“Oh right, the enchanting one. You get anything useful out of it?”

“Sort of,” she explains, tilting her head back and forth. “The ideas are really neat, but I just don’t know when I would ever use it. We don’t get much demand for enchanted tools… or really, any at all. Nopony wants to pay a unicorn to charge them.”

“Hmm… that is a problem. There’s gotta be an alternative for that.”

Cure feels a bit conflicted not sharing with his friends. He would really like to tell all the earth ponies and pegasi how to actively channel their magic, but the butterflies from that could be enormous, and he definitely doesn’t want that level of intrigue turning his direction until he’s a fair bit older. Besides, most do a hell of a lot more passive stuff than they even realize. Lemon’s candies were, for example, hooves down better than anything he could ever hope to make, even before his parents gave her and Amy a training session.

Turning the problem over in his head doesn’t really help a whole lot, and he’s only pulled out of his thoughts when they get closer to everypony’s house.

“See ya in a bit, everypony!” Coast calls before breaking off for her house. The others follow suit, trading goodbyes and going to their respective homes.

Cure trots into the house, almost freezing on the spot when he finds a couple unexpected guests sitting with his sire and mom in the living room.

“Hey hey! There’s the colt’a the hour!”

“Uncle Lucky?” he questioningly calls out. His uncle is dressed quite nicely today with a light grey trench coat and a rather dapper matching fedora sat beside him. Cure doesn’t see many ponies wear coats, especially since it’s not really cold out and there’s no rain scheduled, but he has to admit it’s a good looking outfit either way.

Said uncle hops up off the mat he was on, trots up to Cure, scoops him up in a big hug, and plants a loud, exaggerated peck on each cheek. The other pony, a gray earth pony mare with a darker gray mane, quietly watches from where she’s laying. Cure notices she’s got a foreleg wrapped in a splint that looks like it was made from whatever they had nearby when she was hurt.

Once Lucky sets Cure down he returns to the mat, waving Cure to follow. “My good friend here, Sunny, tripped at work. Took a lil tumble, ya know? Grandpa asked me ta bring ‘er out here an get her all fixed up. Ya got a sec?”

Cure gives his mom and sire quick greeting nuzzles while Lucky is explaining why they’re here.

Sunny, with a pained look, smiles at Cure. “Yep, gotta watch where I’m steppin, yanno? One wrong step an’ I coulda been way worse. Ya know how it is,” she finishes with a shrug. “So Lucky tells me yer a miracle healer. If ya could fix me up I could get back ta work for yer grandpa faster. Yer sires got the 25% already,” she says, tilting her head at a bag of bits between her and Deed.

“Sure thing Miss Sunny! Did they tell you how my talent works?”

“Sure, colt. I ain’t got nothin ya haven’t seen a dozen of already. Go ahead.”

With a hoof on her uninjured leg Cure scans her. She’s got a broken leg, and the break is obviously from some kind of heavy impact like a hammer hitting her, or maybe a baton. Or maybe something fell on the leg, he guesses. She also has some hoof shaped bruises forming on her chest, and another set on her back left hip.

Cure knows an earth pony wouldn’t normally break anything from falling except maybe off of a building, and with the entire package it is clear she was either beat on or involved in a hell of a brawl. From the bruises on both legs and the chips out of her forehooves he’s guessing it was the latter; she clearly gave back at least some of what she got.

Knowing damn well not to ask questions he gets started on the leg. “I’m numbing your whole leg first, so don’t panic when you stop feeling it.”

“I could kiss ya for that alone. The damn thing hurts like you wouldn’t believe.”

“Well gimme a minute and it’ll be good as new. Want me to fix the bruises from the fall too?”

Smiling brightly, she enthusiastically nods. “That’d be great. Thanks Cure!”

“No problem!”

Focused on his task, he doesn’t pay attention to the small talk between Lucky and his parents. Vines is in the kitchen getting lunch ready, but apparently the two aren’t going to join the family at the table. They have to hurry back to Baltimare for work, whatever that involves that he also doesn’t want to know a damn thing about.

Several minutes later Cure declares the patient is ready. “Alright, you’re all set. Dad, can you get a knife from the kitchen to cut off the wrap around the split?”

“Here, Cure,” Lucky calls, casually passing him a three hoof long dagger. “Careful now, that’s sharp.” Cure notices a leather holster dangling empty behind his uncle’s right foreleg. He’s turned a bit to the right, so Cure can’t tell if there’s another one on the other side, but it wouldn’t exactly blow his mind if there is.

“Oh. Thanks!” Very carefully, Cure cuts the tape and string wrapped around her leg and unravels the layered paper towels and washcloths, ignoring the bit of blood from the formerly wounded area, then returns the knife to his second cousin slash uncle who, in one quick motion, spins the blade under him and slides it straight into the holster, looping a strap around the grip.

The mare inspects the leg, stands on her other three, and carefully puts weight on the fixed limb. With a thoughtful frown she nods in approval as she does a few quick tests, then trots into the bathroom to clean up the leftover blood.

Once she’s clean she comes back out and picks Cure up and wraps him in a hug. “Thanks a million, Cure! I’ll be sure to tell yer gramps how great ya are!” She plants a couple kisses on his cheeks, sets him down, and ruffles his mane.

“Nice work, colt. Blaster said to send his regards too. Say’s he’s been able to go to the gym and run like he ain’t been able to for years. Can’t hardly keep the ladies offa ‘em. You all need anything just send the word, ‘kay? C’mon Sunny, let’s get outta their manes an let ‘em enjoy lunch. Yo, V, stay beautiful babe! Enjoy the run, everypony. We’ll see ya soon!”

“Bye Uncle Lucky, Miss Sunny. Say hey to grandpa and grandma for me. Oh and tell Blaster his book’s been great.” Business concluded, Deed walks the two out the door, getting another big hug from Lucky and a hoof bump from the mare before they trot off towards the train.

“Uhh I guess we can just throw this all away?” Title says, waving at the trash and bloody materials left behind. “Whatever, let’s eat. Deed babe can you put the bits away?”

“Sure thing babe,” he calls, trotting to the bag, latching it to his chest with TK, and taking it upstairs.

Cure hits the potty, washes up, and trots into the dining room, hopping up on his chair just as Deed rejoins the family and sits across from him with his dam and mom on his left and right.

“Umm. So how much was in the bag, dad?”

“Two fifty. The rest is in yer trust, I guess. Still, that’s fantastic for a few minutes of work, huh champ?”

“Two fifty? That’s 25%? He’s paying me a thousand bits?!” Cure shouts. “That... sounds like a lot.”

“Yer damn right it is. That’s the lowest my grandsire would accept though. We keep tellin him and Lucky they’re gonna spoil ya, but Lucky told us how much havin an employee outta commission costs the business. That mare wouldn’t have been able to work for weeks, let alone any time for therapy to get back up to strength. Yer savin them a few thousand, easily.”

“I… guess that’s true. Josh broke an arm once and I wouldn’t have even blinked to spend a grand to fix that on the spot. I feel like bits have more spending power, though. Still, I guess it saves money overall compared to normal healing.”

“That’s right, champ. It also guarantees it heals right the first time. No havin to rebreak it if it don’t set right. Lucky said they didn’t want ta go to the hospital and fill out all the forms either. Somethin about gettin fined for on the job accidents.”

“Ah… Pony OSHA exists, huh?” Getting an eye roll from the parents for the unfamiliar acronym, Cure quickly explains what OSHA is.

“Of course there’s an agency like that, dummy. You can’t have ponies workin in a dangerous environment. Anyhow, good work, Cure. You just spent five minutes fixin her up and made almost as much as we do off of a house sale,” Title explains, pausing for a moment to add, “I feel a little cheated.”

“Why, mom?”

“I dunno, honey. It just feels like… “ she trails off with a shrug.

Cure hops down, walks over to the mare, and wraps his forelegs around her in a hug. “I know. It’s not fair. I can’t really tell you why somepony should make a thousand bits in five minutes and another pony should make a thousand bits in a month. Life’s not fair, that’s why I’m trying to level the playing field. A rising tide lifts all boats, mom.”

“Oh, honey, I’m not upset with ya,” she says, awkwardly returning the side hug.

“I know you’re not, but just keep in mind that any success I have will go to all of us. Remember, mansion in the sky, mom. I’ll make sure all of your maids are stallions that are way prettier than dad, too.”

“Aww… thanks, Cure.”

“Traitors… traitors everywhere! I guess it’s just you and me, babe,” Deed says, turning to Vines.

Vines looks hesitantly between Deed, then her son and wife and hums thoughtfully. Slowly turning her head back and forth, she finally settles on the pair and nods in acceptance of her decision.

“BAH! Who needs any of ya! I’m gonna go drinkin with my pals tonight anyhow! Maybe find me a lil piece on the side, somepony that’ll appreciate a tall, dark, handsome stallion that can throw down.”

“Good luck, sweetie,” Vines says while patting his hoof, “if you want I think Lemon and Amy would be happy to have you over tonight. Title is getting too far along anyhow. By the end of the month she’ll be off limits until she gives birth, assuming she isn’t already too far now.”

Cure breaks off the hug and hops back up on his chair. “She’s probably fine for now, but be careful,” he says. “Sorry, that may be partially my fault. Ya know, with the changes and whatnot. Don’t... ya know... do the the buzzin thing… you don’t wanna shake anything loose or cause damage. You could just not do that, though.”

“Eh, that need doesn’t really exist for me right now anyhow. Go have yer fun babe. I don’t wanna risk hurtin the foal.”

“Okay. I was just teasin, but maybe I will go check on the ladies tonight. I’m guessin yer not runnin today, babe?”

“Nope. I’ll just be there to watch. What about you three?”

“I’ll stay with you, honey.”

“I’m runnin,” Deed declares, “Gotta show the ladies what they’re missin out on.”

“I’d rather not but I suspect I’m gonna get pressured into the foals run either way. I’ll just keep it to an easy canter, though. I wouldn’t want to sprint the whole way or anything. That would be incredibly unfair to the foals who aren’t freaks of nature.”

“Cure! Don’t say that about yourself!”

“Oh! No, dam, I mean it in the literal sense, not like… “hey you’re a freak!” like an insult. I just mean abnormal or atypical. I’m technically a freak or hybrid or, depending on your definition, practically an evolved pony. So are all of you, too, though.”

Pointing at his mom he lists, “Enhanced strength, vision, heat sense, and optional horn.” Next, his sire, “All the same but the horn, or at least, the horn that would go on top of yer head. The other horn definitely is not standard issue.” And finally his dam, “Again, all but the horn and vision, which we should really fix, but you have friggin spider parts on yer frogs. It’s not a bad thing to be different, dam, I keep tellin ya that.”

“Well… I guess that’s all true,” Vines concedes.

“Of course there’s also the bone changes we’ve started on. We can get both of you started on the mitochondria changeover once you’ve given birth too. Mom, you may have to wait until fall estrus to have yer colt, but it may be good for the foal if you do too.”

“They’ll probably get the enhancements automatically that way. I’m not sure, though. A lot of what I’m doing is more along the lines of giving you implants than actually changing your genetic code. I think.”

“As for myself, all the above, minus the spider parts, with my hybrid mitochondria, totally unfair memory trick, all the smelling, hearing stuff that I don’t use often, plus anything that strikes my fancy just on the spot. Like my stinger.”

“What?” Deed asks, “Did you say stinger?”

“No, I said I’m a great singer. You know, the voice thing I did to Dawn and Solar?”

“I’m pretty sure you said stinger…” Title agrees, giving Cure a look.

Waving a hoof, Cure dismisses the absurdity. “Pfft, stinger. That’s crazy talk. Where would I even hide a stinger anyhow?” Cure looks down at his bowl, then shoots his tongue out like a frog, spearing through several pieces of lettuce before yanking them back in his mouth and chewing them up, happily humming the whole time.

All the parents stare wide-eyed at the blue colt in some mix of curiosity, amusement, and a dash of concern. “What?” he asks, grabbing a napkin and dabbing at his cheeks, “Did I get somethin on my face?”

“Every damn meal…”

“Hmm? You say somethin, dam?” Ignoring the annoyed scowl he turns back to the pink mare. “Anyhow, what’s your thoughts on that, mom? Are you okay passin those traits down to your foals? I’m not comfortable doing anything big while yer pregnant, and if you want your daughter to have all that we can start whenever you’re okay with it. Or never. It’s your or possibly her call, depending on how long ya wait.”

“Uhh… I’m fine waiting ‘till fall if it means my baby will be healthier. As for the foal I’m carrying… I dunno. We’ll wait and see how we turn out and go from there, okay?”

“That sounds like the safe route,” he agrees with a nod. Facing his sire he adds, “Dad, your input counts here too. Also, I should really convert you over at the same time so you and mom are more likely to pass on the improved cells. Then again, it seems like the dam determines most things for a foal, which seems odd. Do any of you know if there’s hybrid foals out there like winged unicorns or maybe just bigger, more muscled unicorns and pegasi?”

“It’s pretty rare, but it happens. I think they usually take more after the dam, but there’s a few winged unicorns out there and they usually struggle with flying more than magic. You’ll also see some earth pony hybrids out there, but they don’t stand out as much. Like you said, they’ll just be a bit bigger and stronger and, again, sometimes they struggle to fly or sometimes they’ll have casting problems.”

“Well that would freaking suck. It’s one thing to not have wings and accept you’ll never fly. I can’t imagine what it’s like to have that constant reminder on your back taunting you yer entire life. Or a horn you literally can’t help but look at nonstop that doesn’t work right. That’s way worse than not having it at all.”

All three parents are somewhat surprised at the energetic reaction from the colt. He’d gotten worked up a bit when he talked about ponies losing limbs, but this seems to really agitate him for some reason.

“Sweetie, if you reveal you can fix that… that’s going to raise a lot of other questions too.”

“I know, dam. Gah! How much did the train tickets to Canterlot cost, dad?”

“About two hundred bits, why?”

“I just wanted an idea of how much it would cost to get around. I’d like to, at some point, travel and help ponies like that.”
With a sigh he finishes, “That’s not going to happen for years though...”

“Nopony is expectin ya to fix everything, champ. Give it time.”

“I know. Still, I have more income than I need. Until you’re reimbursed for every bit you’ve spent on me, you’re taking half of my income, got it? I won’t listen to arguments about this, no eight year old needs two hundred and fifty bits to play around with.”

Wincing a little, Deed looks to his wives to get their input. Neither care about the money one way or another, but they’re certainly aware that it bugs their son a lot, so they just nod in agreement.

“Okay, sport. Ya know it don’t matter to us, but if it’ll make ya feel better, you got it. I’d fight ya more, but yer gonna pay back anything we’ve spent on ya in a matter of months no matter what, so you win,” he agrees, tossing a hoof to the side. “Once we settle up how’re ya gonna force me to take more of yer money?” he asks, challengingly.

“Easy, I’ll start savin so we can buy a bigger house. The writing might as well be on the wall. Eventually Lemon and Amy will want to be a part of this family, and that sounds fantastic, but we’ll need a bigger house if yer gonna give me a bunch of brothers and sisters. I can at least help pay my part and a little extra.”

“Right now it’s me. In three months it’ll be two foals,” he says, pointing at Title, then looking at his dam, “then four, then six if they move in, and over the next five years it could be fourteen or more if everypony wants another set of twins. We need a bigger house where both dam and Amy can take care of everypony. Or we can hire a nanny if ya wanna do the food logistics thing, dam. We’ll probably need at least four, maybe six bedrooms. I’ll eventually want some space for myself, after all.”

“Sweet Celestia, Cure, slow down! Yer talkin over the next five years, not tomorrow.”

“What? Ponies don’t plan five years out? Are you serious?” After a round of shrugs he sighs and explains, “If they’re financially able to, smart humans start planning for their retirement at fifty five or sixty when they start working in their twenties. Most can’t, or don’t know to do so, but it makes an enormous difference if you plan ahead.”

“Son… you don’t need to do all that. It ain’t that complicated. Even if they came over today each with two foals on the way we’d still make it work. Ya gotta stop thinkin like a human all the time.”

Cure throws his hooves in the air while leaning back and shouting, “Aww come on! That’s not fair! I’m not thinkin like a human! I’m thinkin like a pony that’s going to have a much bigger family in a few years. If I was thinkin like a human I’d probably be terrified you were gonna get a divorce when you joked about findin another mare tonight. THAT is what a human would think.”

“Regardless, sweetie, your mom and sire are right. Let us take care of all that. Don’t you have plans with your friends after the race today?”

“Mmm… fine. Whatever,” he grumbles, settling down and poking at his food. “Yeah, Sapphire invited me over for a sleepover. I’m not sure it’s a good idea, though. She invited everypony from our running group, including Heavy. He’s gotta be home by sundown. Apparently his parents are all going into town for the more adult parties tonight and want him to watch his sisters. I don’t get why they didn’t just find a foalsitter, but either way I’m wary of being the only colt there.”

“We could watch ‘em,” Title volunteers. “You want me to go ask if they want us to so your friend can come with ya?”

“Really? You don’t mind watchin a couple pegasi foals for the evening?”

“Not really. They’ll be asleep a little after sundown and I’m sure either Berry or Spring will come by to pick them up by ten or so. They weren’t going to leave an eight year old alone all night.”

“True. Sure. He’ll be thrilled, I bet. Thanks mom!”

“No problem. It’s not like either of us can go drinkin anyhow.”

“I’m not much of a partier anyhow, sweetie. I don’t mind watching a couple adorable fillies for a few hours.”

“Alright, we’ll check when we’re done eating then. Hey dam, are the melons from when I was showing you magic ready to go? They look like they’re gettin pretty big.”

“Oh yes, absolutely honey. They’re definitely ready. You should take one with you; I’m sure Sapphire will appreciate you bringing everypony a treat. Pick one out that has an orange patch on it, they’re the yummiest.”

“Cool.”

Conversation dies down for a while while everypony finishes their lunch. Deed, Cure, and Vines clean up the table while Title makes a quick pit stop, then she and Cure head off to Heavy’s house, which is just a little bit closer to town. Heavy is outside playing with his sisters as the two approach, but turns when Cure calls out to him.

“Hey Heavy! Are your moms home?”

“Yeah… is everything okay?”

“Oh yeah, nothing’s wrong. I was talkin to my parents about tonight and my mom offered to watch yer sisters for ya. If you want we could go together so it’s not just one or the other of us and a bunch of fillies.”

“Really?” Running up to Title he wraps her foreleg in a hug. “Thank you, Mrs. Search! That would be awesome! I don’t mind watchin my sisters, but… yanno.”

“It’s no problem, sweetie. Just lemme make sure it’s okay with yer moms first. Don’t get yer hopes up ‘till they say it’s okay, alright?”

Releasing her, Heavy takes off for the house calling, “You bet! Lemme ask!” before either Cure or Title can really do anything. Both girls have flown over and landed next to the two of them and are just sitting there staring.

The two are identical twins, which means that Cure has no idea which is which. They both, of course, have light yellow coats with fiery red manes that nearly perfectly match the future Applebloom’s colors. He knows the one is a sweetie pie, but the other is a little nightmare.

They’re summer foals and just a little over five years old, so they’re past that “innocent adorable” phase that Cherry and Lotus are still in and instead have hit that “mischievous but still adorable” phase instead; possibly the hardest to deal with since the pouty pony eyes are still almost 100% effective and they’ve come to recognize that fact.

“Okay, I’m sure you two get this a lot, but I can’t tell which is Summer Cloud and which is Fall Thunder,” Title admits.

“I’m Summer!” the one on the right declares.

“No, I’m Summer!” the one on the left argues.

“I’m… regretting decisions,” Title says with a sigh.

“Don’t worry, mom, it’s really easy to tell which is which.” Both girls look at Cure challengingly as he explains, “You see, Fall Thunder is the one that’s always really stinky like farts, but Summer always smells like the adorable filly she is.”

The eyes on the left filly grow huge and her jaw falls open. The one on the right nods enthusiastically and starts giggling.

Cure takes an exaggerated whiff of the air. “See? That one,” pointing at the filly on the left, “is Farty Thunder, and that one,” Cure is, fortunately, ready for Fall to attack, so as soon as she leaps at him he wraps his forelegs around her and traps her against his chest while laughing. “Looks like I gotta stinky fart, ma!” he calls, getting a few feeble kicks from the girl. “Oh wow I’m strugglin to hold this fart in!”

Summer is rolling on the ground yelling “FARTY FARTY FARTY! HAHAHA!” when Heavy and his moms come back out to find Cure play-wrestling with Fall, rolling around on the ground and giving her raspberries to the great amusement of her sister.

“Hey Title,” Berry Prickle calls as she approaches. She’s a dark blue mare with a bright red mane and her cutie mark shows a bunch of blackberries hanging off of a plucked vine. “Heavy said you may be able to foalsit for us tonight?”

“Hey Berry, hi Spring,” Title greets. Spring is the girls’ dam and Heavy’s mom. She’s the only pegasus that Cure actually knows firsthoof who is married to an earth pony. She’s definitely where the girls get their colors, though her coat is a shade or two more orange than their yellow.

She’s only a little over three hooves taller than Cure and probably only one and a half times his weight, if that. Heavy’s sire is only about an inch shorter than Cure’s, so he’s gotta be around a hundred and ninety kilograms. Thanks to Deed’s fucked up “closet” talk Cure struggles to keep inappropriate thoughts off his mind.

Title explains, “With me and Vines both being preggers we’re gonna spend the evening at home. Cure said he was hopin to go to the sleepover but didn’t wanna be the only colt. If you want, I don’t mind keepin an eye on the fillies so Heavy can go to Sapphire’s house after the race.”

“You sure you don’t wanna go into town tonight? I’m due in January too, but somepony has to keep an eye on Spring and Silver or who knows what kinda mess they’ll get into.”

Scowling, Spring pokes Berry’s side with a wingtip. “Hey! We don’t get that bad.” At her wife’s glare, Spring wilts a little and adds, “Usually. We don’t get that bad usually,” then sticks out her tongue.

“Get yer fat flanks offa me, Cure!” Fall shouts from under the colt, drawing everypony’s attention. He’s laying on his barrel with his front legs wrapped around her and his head sitting on top of hers while smiling and pinning her down so she can only wiggle and flap her wings uselessly. Her sister’s off to the side throwing blades of grass at her and laughing.

“Fat nothin. There’s barely any fat on this chiseled body, Farty. Maybe you need to get them eyes checked. They’re probably meltin from all the farts. I know you can feel that wall ‘a steel ya keep kickin, so be careful ya don’t split a hoof.”

“Ya can’t split a hoof kickin clouds, fatty!”

The three mares ignore them to return to their conversation.

“Nah, Vines and I aren’t really heavy partiers. Maybe once I get this filly outta me, but I’m entirely too self aware to go dancin while sober and enormous.”

“I’m fine with it if yer sure, Title,” Spring says. “Do you want us to bring ‘em to you or would you two like to come over and watch them here?”

“Ehh… here’s probably better. They got all their stuff here, after all. Plus we can just put ‘em in bed that way and you don’t have to worry about them waking up on the way home.”

“Woo!” Heavy cheers from the side and gives Cure a hoof bump. The two of them have been listening in the whole time.

“Sounds good to me. We’ll see you around seven then?” Berry asks.

“Sure, Vines and I will just come by after dinner. Cure has an illusion crystal, so we can probably entertain them with that for a while. We’ll see you in a bit,” Title says, starting to turn back to the house.

“That sounds neat! I’m sure the girls will love that. We’ll see you later,” Spring calls, waving a wing as the two mares go back inside.

“Alright, Farty. It looks like our moms are all done talkin. Time to go stink up some other poor colt like yer brother,” Cure says, hopping back off of the filly to avoid a last-second kick to the face.

Ruffling her feathers, she sticks her tongue out and yells, “You stink!”

Nodding, Cure agrees with the girl. “Of course I do, I’ve been sittin on top of you. Now I gotta go home and scrub my chest, neck, and chin to get all the fart offa me,” he admits as he makes a show of rubbing a hoof on his chest, sniffing it, and waving it away like a dirty diaper as he trots back home.

Wings spread like she’s going to pounce, she yells “I’ll get you, Cure!”

Still trotting away he calls back over his withers at her, “Not if I can smell ya comin from a kilometer away!”

Heavy and Summer just watch the two, laughing at Fall the whole time. When she realizes it she turns around and dives at them instead. Cure watches the three wrestling as he and Title head home, snickering the whole way.

“Yer gonna give the poor filly a complex.”

“Oh she’s an absolute demon. At least her sister is a cutie pie, though. Fall is a fighter, so she’s fun to pick on.”

“You still shouldn’t be mean to her.”

“Meh. She’ll get me back next time we go running, I bet.”

Cure had suspected that the whole “Running makes the leaves fall” thing was not true. In a way, he’s right; trees will shed their leaves just fine without anypony’s interference. After all, much of Equestria is unsettled land. If trees out in the middle of nowhere had no way of shedding their leaves before the harsh weather sets in then they would likely starve themselves trying to keep their crown green when sunlight hours are reduced from the summer high of about sixteen to around nine or so.

Cure has noted that, as far as he can tell, the behavior of the sun matches what he knows happens on Earth and in the Sol Solar System. He can only conclude that, like Earth, Equus must be tilted slightly in order for the world to experience seasons like he’s familiar with. Of course he’s learned by now to keep his mouth shut even around his parents. He knew they wouldn’t call the guard on him or anything, but it clearly disturbed their world view when he even hinted at the possibility that there may be something else going on other than “Boss lady says sun goes up, sun goes up.”

He figures the underlying functions of the planet, solar system, and, possibly, universe are a subject he can tackle when he’s a little older.

For now he’s pretty sure he’s cracked why ponies run to make leaves fall and how it happens. As best he can tell it’s a subconscious use of earth pony magic along with the actual vibration caused by a hundred or so ponies varying in weight between about a hundred and two hundred and fifty kilograms.

As anyone who’s worked around herds of cattle or horses can attest, when fifteen to twenty thousand kilograms of body mass are beating the ground with, basically, bone clubs there is certainly going to be some vibration felt for quite a distance. Add in a subconscious “doing this makes the leaves fall!” and a several-hundred-pony pseudo-ritual and the idea of a group of running equines knocking leaves off of barely-changed trees goes from impossible to downright likely pretty quickly.

Of course Cure would like to observe how it works in areas that are less predominantly earth pony, but again... that has to go on the back burner for now.

The actual Running of the Leaves event is an adult race, of course. It just isn’t safe to have a bunch of foals mixed in with adult runners as a simple accidental trip up could cause a foal to tumble in front of somepony that has no way to stop in time. Or the lead pony may stop, but the next five behind them may not know to.

The event segregates out competitive runners and sends them on their way first, that way the vast majority of casual runners aren’t dealing with the obnoxious ponies that feel like they have something to prove. Of course, the argument is pretty easily flipped too; the ponies that actually want to run don’t have to deal with the slow flower shop mare chatting away with her friends while she’s casually strolling along.

In addition to the competitive and casual parts, the committee that plans such events arranged for a corresponding foal’s version. Youngsters get to participate in a safe manner, they’re entertained for their participating parents’ convenience, and it helps build interest for such events in the next generation to keep traditions going strong.

Coerced by the fillies that he’d been running with, Cure really had no hope of avoiding the foal’s run event. Fortunately Vines and Title were not running, so he could leave the melon he’d picked with them. The one kilometer run was an absolute joke for the group that had been conditioned to go ten times that far, and Cure had vehemently refused to go all-out to prove his speed, convincing the group that doing so would be tacky with the huge, unfair advantage they have.

That didn’t stop Coast and Ferric from pointing out that they could come back after the event and have everypony test their speed without unfairly trouncing the other foals, something Cure had reluctantly agreed to.

“I dunno why y’all are so obsessed with this. Ya know it’s not fair at all.”

“What’s wrong, Cure? All that endurance and no speed?” Crosswind Drift taunts. “I noticed yer sire only got fifth place too, I thought yer whole family was supposed to be in great shape or something.”

“My sire could run that race, turn around, run back to the start, and then run it a third time and barely be winded. He got fifth place because winning woulda been too easy for him and he didn’t wanna show off.”

“Uh huh, I’m sure he just decided not to try. That’s dumb.”

“Jeez Drift, you got a bent primary or somethin?” Dawn asks.

“What?! What’s that supposed to mean?”

“Is that a thing?” Cure asks, leaning over to whisper to Glacial while ignoring Drift’s huffing attitude. “I don’t have feathers, but I could imagine a bent one being annoying.”

“No, not a primary. If you bent a primary you musta crashed or something. Look,” she says, taking a half step forward so she can fan her wing out in front of Cure.

“Damn your wings are gorgeous,” he mumbles absentmindedly.

Glacial freezes and turns red while Cure can't even help but give himself a slow, drawn-out facehoof. “Sorry! Sorry, they’re pretty. I didn’t mean to say that out loud. You were saying? Primaries are the big ones right? Here at the end?”

“Uhh no it’s fine. Thanks. Yeah, so … what was I saying?”

“Something about crashing. Ya know, like I just did,” he says with a wince.

Giggling at the colt she waves her wing slightly. When his eyes track every movement she starts laughing and moving it more just to tease him.

“Now I know how kitties feel when I dangle string in front of ‘em.”

“Well as long as you don’t pounce I can show you,” she says, holding it straight out. Both are mostly ignoring Dawn and Drift, who are still sniping at each other.

“What place was yer sire in, Drift? Do they have a race at Fort Meadow?”

“My sire coulda run from Meadow to here before yers finished the five k!”

“Yeah, but then he’d probably get distracted attackin runners in the foal’s event.”

“At least he knows what an attack is! Your sire’s strongest attack is a beam that conjures up a warm blankie!”

“Oof, claws have come out,” Cure notes.

The other girls had gone to find some way to time each other, something Drift insists is necessary. He has no clue how the officials had done it. As far as he knows stopwatches don’t exist yet. Maybe some enchantment or spell… or a simple water clock.

Heavy is content to sit back and watch the show.

“So yeah, the primaries are here,” she explains, indicating the feathers at the end of the wing, “the secondaries are closer to my body,” she says, pointing her hoof at the bigger feathers on the inside of the wing joint.

“Okay. So it’s based on the joint then. Primary are farther than secondary. Easy enough.”

“Yep, then the coverts are on top, closer to the front. Alula are here just at the wrist. There’s others and more technical terms and whatnot, but you don’t need to worry about all that.”

“Huh. Do you have to do a lot of maintenance or do pegasi wings kinda take care of themselves?”

“Stars I wish. We have to preen ‘em at least twice a day. More if we’re flying a lot.”

“Hey Heavy, do you hafta help yer sisters with their wings a lot or is that all on yer mom?”

“My mom does. She said earth ponies don’t have some oil or something.”

“It has to be another pegasus or you gotta use a special oil,” Glacial explains. “Unicorns and earth ponies don’t have something in your saliva like we do.”

“Ah, that explains the extra glands. The ducks and other birds I scanned have something like that but it wasn’t in their mouths. It’s by their tail on their backs and it’s an oil.”

“Ducks have really good oil. It smells funny though. Ours doesn’t make our wings smell and it’s not actually an oil. My dam told me it reacts to sunlight and acts like one, though.”

“That makes sense. If it smelled I’m sure we would be able to tell. Earth ponies have a stronger sense of smell than pegasi. What smells do you like? Lavender? Most mares seem to like that and roses a lot.”

“Lillies. Those just fill a room and smell wonderful!” she beams.

“They do. Do they make those oils in floral scents?” Turning his scent up as high as possible, Cure scents the air briefly. “I only smell some kinda berry. Strawberry?”

“Huh… if you can still smell that on me then your sense of smell is definitely way better. That’s just my mane conditioner. They do, but they’re not cheap. You go through too much to use that stuff normally. Those are just for special occasions or whatever. Usually after a shower you preen yourself, get help from a family member, or use a brush and the plain stuff. Sometimes when there’s a lot of pollen wings can get kinda gunky, so if a quick shower’s not an option you just use a brush.”

“Huh. Interesting… How many applications do you get out of a container of the scented stuff? Ten? Twenty?”

“No way! Four, maybe five if you spread it thin or have smaller wings. You can dilute it with the normal stuff and stretch it a little. That’s what we normally do.”

“The girls are back,” Heavy calls out, pulling the pair’s attention away from each other.

“I don’t see a timer on anypony’s back though,” Cure observes. “Thanks for showin me, Glacial. Sorry if I embarrassed you, they really are beautiful.”

“Sure, Cure. No problem!”

“... a complete waste of time!” Cure only heard part of what Drift is saying but he was confident he could deduce the rest. Apparently her and Dawn are done with their spat so Drift has turned her friendly attention on Delta Coast, Sapphire Sprint, Ferric Shine, and Rising Pitch.

“I don’t get why we can’t just count,” Coast argues. “It’s not like there’s a prize or anything.”

“It’s a race!” Drift shouts. “You gotta time it to know who won!”

“Okay wait,” Rising calls, “is this a pegasus thing? You know earth ponies don’t really time each other right? Racing is more of a pegasus thing.”

All eyes turn to Glacial who, with a sheepish smile agrees, “Yeah… competitive racing is kinda big in the pegasus community.”

“You mean you don’t care?!” Drift asks the group, getting a bunch of no head shakes back. Seeing she’s outnumbered she flings her wings up and lets out an inarticulate screech, then stomps around in a circle before settling down.

Cure trots over and, with no warning, sits on his haunches and wraps his forelegs around her, pulling her against him. “Come now, Drift my dear, no need for that,” he whispers in her ear, “your friends just looked all over the place to find a timer just for you. What do we say?” then releases her with a nudge.

Cure ignores the curious looks from everypony and goes back to stand by Glacial. Drift huffs and flicks her wings a couple times before the blush goes away, then looks to the group. “Sorry, everypony. I didn’t mean to be a jerk about it. We race all the time but it’s always flying and I wanted to know how fast I can run. Somepony,” she says, glaring at Cure, “insisted we not try too hard during the actual race so now I’ll never know!” she says, finishing with another stomp.

“Well it is a little unfair to everypony else, Drift,” Rising points out. “Not everypony has guard level training twice a week.” Her point gets a murmured round of agreements from all the foals.

“But I’ve only run six times!”

“Yeah,” Ferric agrees, “but each is worth five to ten workouts. That’s like five months of exercise in two weeks. It’s still unfair.”

Seeing she’s not convincing anypony, Drift finally gives up with a “whatever” and a huff.

“How about this?” Cure asks. “The start and finish lines are painted on the ground. You two,” pointing at Glacial and Drift, “have the best eyes, so if one of you just hovers or sits on a cloud looking down on it you can see when the runner starts and just count until each of us crosses.”

“It won’t be perfect but a good way to count is to say a number and the princess’s name. One Celestia, two Celestia, three Celestia. It’s close and it’ll be consistent at least. When one of you goes, the other can watch. You can count when you run but trust me, you’ll be too focused on running to be accurate.”

Everypony is quiet for a moment while they think it over. Cure sees a few mouthing out the counting trick, then nodding in acceptance. Cure figures that it takes about as long to say her name with proper enunciation as it does Mississippi, so it should be close enough.

“Fine, but I’m going first!” Drift yells, running to the starting line. Cure shrugs and asks if anypony has anything to write on and with. Glacial had brought a bag with her, so she gives him a pencil and piece of paper that he writes everypony’s name on while Drift impatiently taps a hoof on the ground.

“Wait!” Heavy yells. “What’s the winner get?”

“I’ll buy the winner a sundae tomorrow. How’s that sound?” Cure asks. “I have some income now, so the winner can get the biggest one they sell.”

“DEAL!” Drift shouts, pacing impatiently by the starting line.

With a sigh, Cure turns to Glacial and asks, “Do you mind timing her?”

“Nah, I’ll just hover until she takes off runnin then land. I’ll be able to tell fine from the ground when she crosses the line.”

“Oh yeah, duh. Okay, thanks Glacial.”

Everypony approaches the starting line where Drift is impatiently waiting.

“Sapphire, wanna do the honors? You’re the host this evening, after all.”

“Oh! Okay. You ready Drift?”

“Yeah, c’mon!”

“Three. Two. One. GO!”

Cure watches closely as Drift takes off, quickly getting up to a full gallop. She’s learned to keep her wings folded against her body when running over the last couple weeks. All three pegasi had kept coming to run with the group every Saturday and Wednesday, which had become the semi-official run nights. They would also occasionally show up on other random days to join in. Apparently pegasi just liked to move.

Cure’s parents stopped going every night since they’d basically plateaued and were only really gaining anything via Cure’s enhancements. He didn’t run quite every night, but anytime somepony came by, even an unusual night, he would run with them just to get out of the house and move for a while.

Cure watched for cheating the entire distance. He was pretty confident Drift’s pride wouldn’t let her, but ponies could surprise him sometimes. Of course, she could use her aura without spreading her wings, but if her stride suddenly doubled it would be pretty obvious. As far as he could tell she legitimately ran the entire kilometer and, he guesses, it took her a little over a minute and a half.

Both she and Glacial fly back to the start line, something that takes less than half the time, to inform everypony how she did.

“A minute thirty seven! Beat that, Cure!” she says, waving her head back and forth in front of him as he writes her time down.

With a smile he simply says, “That’s really good, Drift,” then gives her a friendly nuzzle and adds, “Nice job.”

She scowls back, clearly annoyed he didn’t rise to her challenge, then, after he hoofs over the paper and pencil, takes a few steps away and flies back to the finish line to watch everypony else.

“Glacial, do me a favor, please,” Cure calls. “When I run can you please count too? I think she’ll be ready to argue that I’ve cheated or something if I beat her.”

“Nah, she’s just competitive. She’d never cheat or accuse you of it unless she saw ya,” she assures him. “I’ll count anyhow, but I wouldn’t worry about it.”

“Okay. Sapphire? Wanna show us how ya Sprint?” Cure calls.

“Okay!”

Sapphire goes next and, Cure had to admit, she booked it. Cure wonders if it’s a name thing or if she’ll eventually get a speed mark of some kind. She’d been the most irregular runner, sometimes not showing up in a week at all. Dawn’s next and, while she’s in great shape for a unicorn, she just doesn’t have the telekinetic grip to explode off the starting line like everypony else does.

Rising and then Coast went next, and they definitely beat everypony else’s score. They were the only earth ponies that had been consistently running with Cure from day one, basically, so he guestimated their times were around ten to fifteen seconds faster than Drift.

“Woah. I don’t think I’ll be able to beat that, Cure,” Heavy says as Coast shrinks in the distance. “Rising and her gotta be in first place now. I bet Drift is gonna be a butt about it.”

“I dunno. Maybe. I hope not, it’s not like a sundae is that big of a deal. Still, it shows what I was talkin about how it’s unfair for us to race against normal foals. They’ve been to more runs than anypony but Dawn and they’re kickin plot. Ferric may be able to do that well, but she was in great shape before she started runnin,” he notes. “Show us how it’s done, Shine!”

Ferric, then Heavy, then Cure go next. Glacial would go last, which isn’t an issue because Drift can still see when she starts running from a low cloud or hover easily enough.

Of course the competition was completely unfair, as everypony but Drift knew anyhow, so when he galloped across the finish line at a minute and ten seconds nopony else was surprised. Credit where it’s due, she (reluctantly) congratulated him on the victory, so Glacial was right about her being a fair sport at least.

“Alright, everypony,” Sprint calls, “I have the results. The big fat cheater, Cure, won with a minute and ten seconds. While carrying a melon because he’s a showoff,” she says while scowling at him and getting a stuck out tongue back. “Next was Delta Coast with a minute sixteen. Ferric Shine beat out Rising Pitch by one second, so their times were a minute twenty two and twenty three.”

“I beat Heavy Lift by two seconds; our times were a minute twenty eight and a minute thirty,” she says, pausing to take a small curtsy, “Next came the only pony that’s run every day, Dawn Glow with a minute thirty three. Last but not least are the pegasi with Crosswind Drift’s time of a minute thirty seven and Glacial Breeze scoring a minute forty.”

Cure Wave - 1:10 (Cure’s melon - 1:10:50. Lost by a nose)

Delta Coast - 1:16

Ferric Shine - 1:22

Rising Pitch - 1:23

Sapphire Sprint - 1:28

Heavy Lift - 1:30

Dawn Glow - 1:33

Crosswind Drift - 1:37

Glacial Breeze- 1:40

Cure can see Dawn’s clearly annoyed at being placed so low, so he sneaks over next to her, watermelon set aside, and nuzzles into her neck. “It’s not a fair fight, Sunrise. You don’t have the TK field the rest of us do, so you can’t get as much traction. I’m amazed you beat those two, but they haven’t run many times yet, so…”

“Still, I’ve run more than anypony!”

“Yep. And you’re in fantastic shape compared to any unicorn I know except yer brother. To be fair, you’re better at magic than everypony here by a lot.”

“Except you!” she yells. Then realizes she just drew everypony’s attention.

“Shh!” he quietly shushes her, but it’s obviously too late.

“What?” Drift asks. “What do you mean except him? And what’s a TK field?”

“You weren’t there,” he explains, “but I made an illusion crystal. At the time it was a spell Dawn struggled with, but she can do it now just fine. As for the TK field… well, that’s the thing that lets you grab stuff. Unicorns don’t really have that very much. That’s why you always see them levitate stuff instead of using their hooves and why it took a few extra seconds for Dawn to get up to speed.”

“Oh. We have that, though, why don’t they?”

“Pegasi have it, but earth ponies’ TK fields are a lot stronger. You guys can reduce your mass, though, which makes ya lighter. We can’t do that.”

“How much stronger?”

“Come put yer hooves on my side and try to push me. You’ll see you can’t move me at all if I’m grabbin onto the ground. I think our field is about three times as strong as yours. It’s about ten or eleven times as strong as a unicorn’s though.”

Challenge issued, everypony gathers around as Drift tries to push Cure over. She finds her hooves sliding out from under her before she can budge him at all.

“Heavy, come over here. Or Ferric, or any other earth pony.”

Rising trots over to see if she can do it too.

“Okay, now imagine your hooves are an actual part of the ground. You are as immovable as a mountain, Rising Pitch. Nopony can move you unless you let them. Be the rock against the storm, okay?”

With a nod she sets herself. She’s the same height as Heavy and the other unmarked earth ponies, so just a little shorter than the one-year-older pegasus. Despite that, she’s probably at least ten kg heavier due to her thicker earth pony build. Drift can’t budge her at all either.

“Huh. I didn’t know you all could do that.”

“Yep, it’s just like how you two can lighten yourselves even without flappin yer wings.”

“No we can’t,” she immediately argues.

“Yes, you can,” he assures her. “You’ve just never tried. It’s probably something you learned to do subconsciously when you were a foal first learnin to fly.”

Drift looks to Glacial who simply shrugs and looks back.

“I’ll prove it, let’s go to the playground. They have a see-saw there we can use.”

“Okay, Glacial and Drift, you both weigh about the same. I think everypony else will be a bit heavier. Each one of you get on a side. This’ll only take a moment.” Dawn and all of the other earth ponies are simply sitting by and observing, curious to see whether Cure knows what he’s talking about or not.

Each filly takes a side and looks to Cure for instruction. Drift has a slightly more muscular build, so she weighs a few kg more than Glacial who is now sitting a meter and a half off the ground.

“Okay, who wants to be light and who wants to be heavy?”

“I’ll be light!” Drift immediately calls. Cure looks to Glacial who simply nods and flicks a wing in Drift’s direction.

“Okay, Glacial, be ready for her side to get lighter. That means your side will fall in just a moment, okay?”

“Okay…”

Cure trots next to Drift and quietly gives her instructions. “Okay, Drift… you know that feeling you get right before you rocket up in the air? Imagine you’re just about to take off, but I want you to do everything in your power to keep your wings tight to your body at the same time.”

Nothing happens.

“Close your eyes, Drift. Instead, imagine you’re standing on a cloud looking down at the world. You don’t need your wings right now because the cloud will hold you. You just gotta feel it on your hooves to know it’ll keep you up. It’s just you, the clouds, and the sound of the wind to keep you company.”

That does the trick. Drift squawks as she’s launched unexpectedly in the air as the weight on her side is reduced by however much the aura works. In a panic she snaps her eyes open, cutting off the aura, and slamming back on the ground while Glacial had snapped her wings open and gently floated over.

Once everypony knows she’s alright they all start laughing.

“Did you hear her yell?” Heavy asks the group with a snicker. “I swear Cure musta plucked a feather with the way she shot in the air! Did ya bite her, Cure?”

Drift sits there fuming at the gray colt while everypony else giggles along.

“Nope, I’d only do that if she asked nicely,” Cure explains, causing her to turn her scowl from Heavy to himself. “Aw, don’t be mad. They’re just teasin ya. Everypony’s just glad yer not hurt.”

“Whatever!” she huffs out, turning away from him.

“Well, I don’t have enough bits on me to buy everypony a huge sundae, but cones are only a couple bits each, so I have enough to get everypony one before we go to Saph’s house. How’s that sound?”

Cure made sure to pay a little extra attention to Dawn while the group went for the promised cones. She’d been feeling a little down about coming in 7th place, despite Cure’s showing that she really just couldn’t have possibly accelerated as quickly as an earth pony in decent shape could.

With the melon set on his right, he sat right next to Dawn on a bench with their sides touching while they enjoyed their cones together.

Of course Rising and Coast sat opposite of them and smirked at Dawn the entire time. Apparently they’d been teasing the filly since he’d bumped into the three back when foalsitting and Cure had never realized it. He didn’t particularly care either; everypony knowing they were a developing item was fine by him. With aloof indifference she ignores their stares.

The rest of the group filled the bench and opposing chairs the rest of the way down the wall, Crosswind Drift and Glacial Breeze at the opposite end from the pair. Cure would have liked to sit closer to Glacial, but he decided to follow his moms’ advice on this front. He’d made his interest plenty clear enough earlier, inadvertently or not, and now the decision to eventually make a move was up to her.

“Ya know, you were excited for this earlier. Don’t blame me that you didn’t see this coming,” Cure insists. “It was well within the expectations I had for the night.”

The group had gone to Sapphire’s house after the ice cream. Cure hadn’t met her parents before and was shocked to find that she and Ferric actually have the same sire. He had never noticed beforehoof, but thought it odd he was getting a similar scent from both girls over the course of the evening.

“I didn’t know what I was askin for, dude!” Heavy hisses back. “I just wanted to hang out with a bunch of pretty fillies.”

He didn’t bother to turn his sense of smell back down after speaking with Glacial earlier, and was actually kind of enjoying being able to pick up hints of things he’d never noticed before. Thankfully it wasn’t all asscrack and spooge everywhere like he’d expected. He’d kept his smell at typical pony levels when at home specifically out of concern that he’d pick up his parents’ near-nightly forays.

“A laudable goal, my friend,” Cure says while patting the gray colt’s withers. “Now, however, I fear we must pay the price for our hubris. If you want my advice,” he continues, ignoring the emphatic no head-shake from Heavy, “I suggest you have as much fun with this as you can. It’s happening, one way or the other. Accept it.”

Of course the “duh” moment came when approaching the rather nice house; one just barely northwest of town and probably almost double the size of his own home. Ferric happily trotted up and nuzzled into her sire’s chest with a “Hi daddy!” and was greeted similarly in turn. Cure wasn’t the only one that was surprised; aside from the two daughters only Rising, Coast, and Dawn were in the know.

Ferric clearly got her build from him whereas Sapphire takes after her dam. Onyx Mark reminds Cure of Rusty Barbell, the gym owner from his and Deed’s adventure in Baltimare before meeting Brick.

The stallion is about a hoof taller than Deed had started out, and he clearly gets his exercise in as a miner. He’s covered in thick muscles everywhere from snout to tail. Built like a brick shithouse, the nearly-black stallion looks like he could kick a mountain and make ore fall out like the future Apples can do to a tree.

His mark is some gray or silver colored lump of ore with some sparklies poking out of it. He sports a silver mane and tail and, objectively, Cure has to admit that the dude is quite the looker. It’s no wonder that Ferric’s dam asked or paid for him to sire for her, but given that he still looks after Ferric some he’s assuming it was the former arrangement rather than the latter.

“We could run, ya know?” Heavy suggests.

“They can fly and lift us with levitation. And we’re outnumbered seven to two. I could run and probably get away… do you want me to leave ya?”

The fillies simply look back and forth in a semicircle around the surrounded colts while they have their conversation. They can obviously hear everything, but neither of the two seem to care.

“You wouldn’t! That would be a jerk move. Be a bro, dude!”

Sapphire’s sire and dam are both watching the byplay from the side with amused smiles. The group is in one of the living rooms and the fillies have brought out, likely, one of each type of cosmetic product ponykind has ever invented. Cure remembers asking his dam about this crap at one point. Well, here it all is. Question answered.

“I’m frankly perfectly fine with this, really. If you think having the attention of a room full of fillies is anything but wonderful then maybe you should reconsider your priorities in life.”

“Oh yeah? Go ahead then,” Heavy counters, waving ahead of him.

Sapphire’s dam is apparently the town jeweler. Midnight Gem has a light purple coat and a lovely blue mane and tail that reminds Cure of the land-bound group members’ new teacher, Polished Apple.

Also an earth pony, the mare has a much “softer” city-pony build than Cure’s moms. Adorned on her flanks is a diamond or other similar jewel set inside of a facet, though it’s as if the jewel is being looked down on, so it’s unclear what type of jewelry it is. Cure wonders if it’s some kind of amulet or broach perhaps, but is unwilling to ask to have a better look.

“With pleasure.” Cure sits on his haunches, breathes into a hoof melodramatically and sniffs it, gives an approving nod, then takes a few steps forward, “Good evening, ladies,” he says as he drops into an over-the-top bow, “Cure Wave’s the name and my special talent is making beautiful mares such as yourselves as happy as they can be.” Standing back up he flexes his pecs back and forth then asks, “How can I be of service this fine evening?”

Even Sapphire’s parents burst out laughing at the line that has all of the fillies giggling and a few blushing lightly.

“Well first,” Sapphire explains, “we need to get those hooves polished. Dawn, what color do you think will look nice on your special somepony?” she asks, turning to the grinning unicorn.

“Pink!” Coast calls out.

“You’re just saying that cause it’ll match yer mane,” Rising says, bumping the filly with a shoulder. Shamelessly doing the same she calls out, “A nice chocolatey brown like his eyes!”

Coast huffs and shoulders her back insisting, “It’ll look nice! What’s wrong with my mane?”

As the two start bickering Ferric makes a suggestion, “I think he’d look nice in something a little darker.” A line that stops all laughter and conversation on the spot. The dark red filly’s ears shoot straight up when she realizes what she said, then turn burgundy as they fold back and her tail goes limp as the alternative meaning dawns on her.

“Uhh… maybe a darker gray color?” Cure suggests, praying her sire doesn’t intervene.

“Yep, that’s what I meant!” she quickly agrees.

“I dunno, girls…” Drift calls from the side, “I think Cure would rather have his hooves covered in something like a platinum color. Got any that light up blue in the sun, Saph?” she asks, then immediately bursts out laughing.

Cure looks over his withers at Heavy with a terrified face. Stage whispering to the colt he quickly says, “Save yourself, bro. It’s too late for me. I’ve made a terrible mistake!”

“You asked for it, dude. I’mma go pick out my colors. Maybe that’ll hurt less.”

Cure turns back just in time to see the pink leaving Glacial’s ears while she does her best not to look in Dawn’s direction while smacking the cackling pegasus beside her with a wing.

Thanking all that is holy, Cure notices that Dawn isn’t glaring or shooting lasers at Glacial.

Maybe the dream is still alive! Viva le harem!

Cure looks to the huge dark stallion and mouths, “Save me”, getting only a chuckled head shake no in return before pouting.

“I think a dark gray would look nice,” Rising agrees with Ferric. “What about his mane, though? He obviously takes good care of it, but I dunno about green…”

“Hey! My dam’s coat is green!” he objects with a scowl, which is completely ignored.

“Red and blue go together well,” Dawn points out.

“Purple!” Midnight Gem shouts from beside her husband, “Purple and blue go great together, right honey?”

“Oof. Sorry little dude, I gotta agree,” Onyx casually remarks.

“Wha-pish!” Cure calls out, making the whip motion at the huge chunk of rock, only getting an agreeing nod and a shrug back.

“No, she’s right,” Coast says, “I bet purple would look really nice with his coat.”

“What shade though? He doesn’t have the same blue… she’s more of a royal and he’s sky.”

“I think silver would look nice, for real,” Drift insists. “He’d be like Glacial’s evil mirror twin.”

“I’m not evil!” Cure calls back. “I’m Neutral Good at worst. Maybe even Lawful Good. Definitely not evil. Usually. I’m quickly reconsidering, though.”

“You play O&O?” Onyx asks.

“No, but I’ve seen it played. It seems fun.”

“Eh. It can be. It depends on the game master.”

“Focus, daddy! We need to pick his colors!” Sapphire shouts over the stallion. He just holds up his hooves in surrender and slinks out of the room with his wife following after while calling “Puuuurple” in a sing-song voice as she trots away.

The girls all chatter for a moment while Sapphire watches her parents leave. After a minute passes everypony is quiet and they all look at her. “They’re gone!” she shouts, getting a cheer from the fillies. Cure looks questioningly at Heavy who just shrugs back.

“Wait… you were all just messin around to get them to leave?” Cure asks.

“Duh. They wouldn’t wanna stick around if we’re just playin with makeup,” she explains as if to a toddler. “Now we can do whatever we want.”

“Huh. Damn, I thought I was gonna finally get my hooves worked on. Usually I only give massages.”

Almost the entire room freezes and Cure quickly realizes that he did not say the right thing.

“You give massages?” Rising excitedly asks.

“He massaged my horn the other day. It was so good I almost passed out,” the orange traitor softly says. Cure’s lip-quivering pout almost made her come back to the light, but it was too late for her. “He also massages his parents a lot. It always makes them fall asleep.”

“You’re screwed, dude,” Heavy laughs behind them. “Maybe you didn’t make her quite happy enough, huh? Special talent’s not workin today or something?”

“Look, everypony,” Cure says while waving, sat on his haunches, “If I give you massages you’ll fall asleep. Besides, there’s seven of you. You can’t really expect me to give seven massages with these cracked, busted up hooves!”

“Your hooves look smooth as silk to me, Cure,” Drift insists with a smirk, “besides, we all know you and Dawn are a couple. She’s probably just exaggerating.”

“C’mon Drift, really? I know you’re just challenging me so I’ll be all like,” switching to a dumb-jock voice he says, “oh yeah! I can make you pass out easily!” then going back to normal he finishes, “and you’ll get a free massage out of it.”

“He also does other voices,” Dawn adds with a smirk.

“Sweet Celestia, Dawn. Whose side are you on?” Cure asks beggingly.

“Really? Can you copy other ponies’ voices?” Rising asks.

Quickly duplicating Dawn’s voice he responds, “Well yeah, maybe, but only after stabbin ‘em in the back a bunch with my big dumb horn!” getting wide-eyed shocked faces from everypony, Heavy included.

“Dude! That sounded just like her. Well, if she was … yanno…” he thrusts his head forwards a few times before saying, “stabbier.”

“I don’t sound like that!” Dawn yells from across the room.

“I don’t sound like that!” Cure echoes back to her, raising a challenging eyebrow.

“How in the hay are you doing that?” Ferric asks.

“I’m a filthy cheater, that’s how,” he responds in his normal voice. Then out of the corner of his mouth, with everyone watching and fully aware, he says in Heavy’s voice, “Hey girls I’m super bored and nopony is paying attention to me. Somepony come and make me look as hot as this magnificent specimen beside me!”

Heavy punches him in the shoulder with a scowl before he realizes that most of the fillies are picking up their supplies and looking in his direction.

“Get ‘em!” Cure yells, diving on his friend to hold him down.

The two wrestle on the floor for a moment, Heavy quickly realizing he has no hope of escaping before he goes limp.

“Shh, don’t worry bro,” Cure whispers in his ear while petting down his mane, “I’m totally using you as a distraction while I get away. Don’t worry, I will be fine.”

Cure hops off of his friend when Ferric, Coast, Sapphire, and Rising get close enough to take over. He doesn’t notice that an angry unicorn has snuck up behind him until his heat sensor pings her presence.

Slowly turning around with a big smile he casually asks, “What? You’re the one that tried to sell me out.” Grabbing her hoof and planting a kiss on her fetlock, he looks up and asks, “Haven’t I been good enough to you, baby?”

With a quick sigh, Dawn rolls her eyes and nods. “I guess I can let you off easy. All you gotta do is give three massages. The other fillies will hafta earn theirs.”

“Umm okay, so you’re one. Are you talking about these two?” he asks, waving a hoof at Drift and Glacial who are paying rapt attention. “How’d they earn them?”

“By being a part of your goofy experiment and helping with the race.”

“Oh. That’s fair. I mean, if you actually want them to pass out and be embarrassed in front of everypony.”

With a wince Dawn has to agree, they likely wouldn’t survive the experience. “Good point. I’ll take mine tomorrow after we run,” she agrees.

“Is he actually that good or are you just joking?” Glacial asks.

“No, he’s really that good. You don’t want him massaging you in front of everypony else, trust me.”

“Cow manure!” Drift yells.

“Ya know what, fine. I’ll do it just to shut ya up. Come here to the couch and don’t say you weren’t warned.”

Cure leads Drift over to a couch that Sapphire’s parents had scooted off to the side of the room. With so many foals over they’d moved them out of the way to set up a matted area in the middle of all of the furniture.

Drift looks a little unsure as she climbs up on the couch. Dawn follows along, shaking her head in disappointment while Glacial trots beside her. The two are whispering back and forth, but with Cure bumping his hearing up a little to super-equine levels he could hear every word.

“He’s not gonna hurt her accidentally is he? He’s really strong.”

“Nah, like I said, he massaged my horn the other day and that’s way sensitive. Remember, he can heal anyhow. I’ll be amazed if she’s not asleep in five minutes or less.”

“Really? That actually sounds kinda nice.”

“Oh yeah, definitely. My stupid brother tried to get him to channel magic in my horn while I was almost out of it though. I would have died if he did.”

“Why? What’s that do?”

“It… kinda lets you feel another unicorn’s emotions. That’s why couples do it. They can feel each other a bit.”

“Really? That’s kinda beautiful.”

“Yeah. Not something I wanna have happen when I’m blitzed out of my mind from a massage though, especially in front of my brother.”

“Yeesh… yeah.”

Huh. Well that’s way better than I expected. Still a dick move, Solar.

Drift gets situated on the coach, laying on her barrel with her forelegs straight out and her back legs stretched backwards. Her tail is down, so any inappropriate areas are completely covered. Her wings are folded against her sides, so Cure climbs up on the couch next to her and sits beside her withers.

Dawn floats another couch nearby and the pair hop up to watch.

“Okay before I get started lemme ask about your wing muscles. I know they can be sensitive; I won’t hurt them… I’m just kinda worried you may like the massage too much if I get them.”

“That’s the whole point of a pegasus getting a massage, Cure. Why wouldn’t you massage those too?”

“Oh. Okay. Just makin sure. Other than the obviously inappropriate things, is there anywhere you don’t want me touching you?”

“Just keep it on my top half, dummy.”

“Right, got it. I’ll start at the withers and work my way up, then work my way back down. I’ll be using my talent to help yer muscles relax, so don’t freak out if you feel that. Do pegasi have sensitive hooves? That’s kind of an earth pony thing, I think.”

“No, not really.”

“Okay. I’m gonna heat up my hooves a little and we’ll get started.”

Seated just beside her left wing, Cure starts warming his hooves up, rubbing them against each other in small circles. He looks over and finds that Heavy actually looks like he’s having a lot of fun, as are the girls that are painting him up like a clown car or something. Hopefully that crap all washes out.

“Alright, hooves are warmed, here we go…”

The first half of the massage goes just like any other. Cure works his way up her neck, trailing down from her spine to the strong muscles lining the sides while gently pressing and kneading the area with his warmed hooves and TK field, all while directly manipulating the muscles to relax with his talent as he passes them over.

Gradually working his way forwards, he can see the posture of the purple filly loosening as she relishes in the calming sensation climbing her mane. With careful precision he manipulates the muscles on her jaw, cheeks, and finally the sensitive muscles at the base of her ears and on her brow.

With the first half complete he re-seats himself by her withers, this time facing towards her rear. Normally he grinds his back hooves into his parent’s hips and lower back by standing on them, but that would probably kill Drift, so instead he performs a similar process to what he did on her withers and shoulder area, grinding away in a circular pattern on her hips and the larger muscles on the back of her legs.

Though he was certainly getting a little close to areas that he wouldn’t normally mess with, the filly never reacts other than to hum in appreciation or, occasionally, gasp or even moan a little.

Done with the formalities, it was time to move to the main event. Both Dawn and Glacial were watching with rapt attention and knew that shit was about to get real. Heavy’s makeover was almost done as well, and a couple of the girls were glancing over occasionally, keeping tabs on what was going on in the other half of the room.

“Alright, Drift, time for the finale. Hope yer ready.”

“Mmhmm…”

Straddling the filly, Cure puts a back hoof on each side of her hips and uses his TK field to support all of his weight on his back legs while channeling whatever pegasus aura he can to lighten himself. The antigravity lean draws a raised eyebrow from Dawn and a set of hiked brows from Glacial. He pauses to shoot the pair a quick grin and a wag of his brows while pulling off the impossible looking move.

He can only pull the trick off on the cushioned surface thanks to his weight on just two hooves compressing enough material and bringing the frame itself within grabbing range before he activates his pegasus aura. Grabbing only the surface would probably tear the top layer off, even though the field’s radius around the base of his hoof is nearly double the hoof’s actual size.

Drift would certainly not appreciate him falling on her back like that, nor would Sapphire’s parents be very happy with the damaged furniture.

With the positioning and weight concerns taken care of, he places both hooves directly over the area where her wings attach to her back, just behind the scapulas for her forelegs and slightly underneath the cervical trapezius. Gently pushing down and outward, he follows the muscle and bone structures in a heated, pulsating motion encouraging the wings to spread themselves open.

The effect is profound. Drift can’t help but moan out loud and her hind legs kick unconsciously from the stimulation. Cure freezes on the spot and looks to Glacial for guidance. “Is that normal? Should I stop?”

“Noooo!” Drift quietly whines.

Wide-eyed, Glacial takes a second to answer. “No, it must feel awesome though.” Shuffling slightly in her seat to get a better angle she waves a hoof and tells him, “Keep going. Just like that.”

Starting back at the base again, he gently kneads out, away from the body, further stretching and spreading the tightly coiled muscles that had pulled back against her body without her command. Now assured he wasn’t hurting her, or doing worse, he starts genuinely massaging the stretched muscles, wrapping his TK field fully around the wing and pulsating a light vibration all around it as he works his way outward to the wrist.

The sounds she makes are not even slightly appropriate for the setting, and Cure can only thank the stars he has a talent that lets him turn off autonomic processes in his body. Prepubescent or not, those sounds are going to cause a reaction otherwise. The only reason he doesn’t stop is because his sense of smell isn’t picking up anything he’d associate with more inappropriate activities.

After the third time her wings don’t come back down, and instead hover fully extended out to both sides. By the fifth time he’s having to hold them up completely, as whatever muscles had been keeping them straight out have gone completely out of commission. A few more slow, but strong motions outward, and a final gentle massage of the muscles that are normally hidden under the wings themselves, and Cure steps back, dismounting the couch and the girl.

“Sweet Celestia…” Glacial stares in awe. “She’s gonna be out all night. You weren’t joking,” she finishes, turning to give Cure a hungry look, wings raised slightly in excitement.

“Dude… what did you do?” Heavy asks, interrupting the moment.

Cure has to suppress a snort when he turns to his friend. The poor colt is just a mess of colors, with apparent clown makeup all over a powdered white face, a pink poofy mane that makes Cure think of a future party pony, a few ribbons strewn about, and some green lightning bolts, for whatever reason, running down the front half of his body. Sapphire’s work, he suspects.

“I gave her a massage. That look’s a keeper, bro. You should totally have the fillies doll ya up before school on Monday.”

“Shattap, I had four fillies on me. As far as I’m concerned I win here.”

“I believe we have different scoring criteria, my friend.”

The other fillies approach the couch and give Drift a look-over just as the parents reappear.

“We… uhh… heard some noises. We wanted to come check and make sure everypony was okay,” Midnight explains. “What’s wrong with that pegasus filly?” she asks, pointing at Drift.

“Nothing,” Glacial answers, “She just wanted a massage while they were doin Heavy’s makeup and she fell asleep. That happens a lot when somepony gets our wings really good.”

“Yeah, my parents fall asleep if anypony massages their hooves, but they’re earth ponies, so…” Cure offers with a shrug.

Onyx is clearly making sure that there’s not any inappropriate smells floating about, as he walks the perimeter of the room. He keeps a body length between him and Drift, whose wings are fully extended and laying flat on the couch. “Is she gonna be okay?”

“Oh yeah, absolutely,” Glacial assures him with a nod. “She’ll probably sleep like a million bits all night now. I’m kinda jealous,” she adds, struggling not to look in Cure’s direction.

“Huh. Okay, well, I think everypony should be getting to sleep here in a little bit. How ‘bout you all clean up the room a little. We’ve got some sleeping mattresses upstairs in yer room, honey.”

“Thanks dam, thanks daddy!” Sapphire calls back.

“Cure, dear?” Midnight calls.

“Yes ma’am?”

“We cut up the melon you brought. Please be sure to tell your dam how wonderful it is. When you all have the room cleaned up, come grab some slices in the kitchen, okay?” Turning to walk back out of the room she yells, “Don’t forget to wash up first!” before disappearing up the stairs, Onyx just behind her.

It only takes a few minutes to put everything away and stack the mats in the corner of the room. When the group is done the only thing unmoved is the couch with a snoring purple pegasus on it, wings still hanging limp on each side.

“Here, just put her on my back. Y’all weigh nothing, so it’s fine. She won’t fall off.”

Dawn levitates Drift onto Cure’s back. All four legs and two wings dangle completely limp on both sides, though Dawn was careful to rest the filly’s head in his mane so she won’t sleep uncomfortably. With the insensate filly situated, the group trots into the kitchen to grab a pre-bed snack.

The watermelon is indeed every bit as good as Cure had hoped. He is honestly relieved it isn’t some kind of crackhead-addict level good that would see his dam’s garden ravaged by bloodshot-eyed foals the next day. Still, the juicy fruit was just the right color with a deep, dark red and only a few seeds.

Ponies just chew those up, though, so they didn’t have any kind of seed pile to take care of. Cure remembers they can cause problems for humans, but apparently the adorable, colorful, fluffy equines are made of sterner stuff.

Saturday, October 18th, 908 AB 2:00 AM

Cure has no clue how he ended up where he is. He fell asleep in the ponyloaf position between Dawn and Sapphire, but that evidently went completely out the window at some point in the night.

He’s still got his equipment on the mattress, thankfully, so nothing perverse happened while he was asleep, but Dawn somehow ended up facing the other direction. His head is resting on her right flank and her head is against his right flank with her horn brushing against his side whenever she turns slightly.

His face is only a couple inches away from Ferric’s; she’s using Dawn’s rear as a pillow as well. To be fair, it is a pretty nice pillow, so he can’t fault her. Sapphire is using his rear as a pillow too, sort of. Her chest is resting on his left haunch with her neck across his dock and her head dangling down to lay just in front of Dawn’s with her chin basically sitting on his right flank. It doesn’t seem like it would be comfortable at all, but pony necks can deal, apparently.

Heavy is curled up on Cure’s left with his rear just a little in front of him and his head against Sapphire’s left rear hoof. Thankfully he’s laying on his left side, so his junk isn’t pointed in Cure’s direction. Drift is fully on top of the gray colt, but she’s laying more on her right, so her back hooves are a bad dream away from kicking Cure in the face. Hopefully she won’t dream-chase any squirrels either.

Glacial is on the other side of Dawn, snuggling up against her side and facing the same direction as Cure with her head pressed against Ferric’s left flank. Coast and Rising are just in front of him in a similar intertwined ponyloaf position that he and Dawn are in.

Figuring he’s got nothin better to do, Cure relaxes back down before he accidentally disturbs anypony. With a yawn he nuzzles into Dawn’s right hip. He doesn’t even catch himself doing anything until after the third grooming lick, then freezes on the spot. Another quick glance around the room confirms that nopony is awake, thankfully. He gives the unicorn another nuzzle, and lays down to go back to sleep, ignoring the pony part of his brain that he swears is clapping its hooves in glee.

Chapter 33: Werkwerkwerk

Saturday, October 18th, 908 AB (slightly under 6 hours later)

"He’s squishin me a little.”

“I bet he is… he’s strong as Tartarus." Delta Coast pokes at Cure a few times before asking, "Are… are you hurt? He isn't hurting you is he?”

“No. It’s not uncomfortable, but I gotta pee.” Glacial wiggles a little, but there's no escaping the hold she's locked in. The two are on their right sides, Cure spooning the filly and holding her tightly. He has both forelegs under her legpits, his left around her chest and his right over her belly. Her back and wings are held tightly against his chest, completely pinning them in place.

“Heavy, you hang out with him most. How do we get ‘em offa her?”

“I don’t freakin sleep with ‘em, Coast! I mean, we’ve had sleepovers, but it’s not like we snuggled or something.” Snickering, he suggests, “Maybe you should ask Dawn instead.”

Drift snaps to Dawn’s direction. “You sleep with him?!”

“No! I almost fell asleep when he massaged my horn, but that’s just ‘cause it felt amazing.”

“Oh my…” she starts, her voice doing nothing to hide the smile. Drift tries to ask, “Did you massage his-”

With a glowing horn Dawn turns and growls at her. “Don’t you dare finish that sentence, Crosswind Drift!”

“Fine! Jeez, I was just joking," she insists, hooves raised in surrender.

“Is he… rolling over?”

“Yep, and yer goin with ‘em!” Sapphire laughs at the ensnared pegasus. “Woo! Ride that Wave, Glacial!”

The six fillies and one colt watch as Cure languidly rolls from his right side onto his back, a frozen Glacial still pinned, now between all four legs. Fortunately he doesn't stop in the incredibly compromising position. Instead, he keeps going, gently setting her on their left side, then rolls her onto her barrel, rolling with her to her withers.

“HA! Oh my stars, he’s pinned her down! I can’t believe he rolled on top of ‘er.” Stooping down, Rising gets a better look. Cure settled on her withers with his back legs off to her left side. Unfortunately he rested his neck and head right on top of hers, flattening her into the mattress. “You okay down there?”

“Yeah… he’s kinda heavy though. He’s got most'a his weight on his back ‘n legs, but jeez… I can barely move. He's still wrapped around my chest and belly. Those legs aren't very comfy to lay on."

“Yeah, it’s a lot more comfortable when you lay on him. I think he barely notices the weight.”

Ferric can’t help but blush while asking, “Do you do that a lot?”

“Just once, again, after the massage,” she admits with a sigh. “I was sleepy and he was warm and soft.” Smirking, Dawn can’t help but remind everypony, “If you recall… Drift was on him last night before bed. Then she spent the whole night sleeping on Heavy.”

With a dreamy look, Heavy gives Drift a friendly nuzzle. “Yer warm. It was nice.”

She whacks with a wing and hops away. “Don’t get any ideas, doofus!" Waving a hoof at the blue colt, she complains, "It’s his fault I fell asleep early!”

“He did warn you. Oh, hey, dam," Sapphire calls as Midnight trots in to check on the group. Poking at Cure a couple times, she explains, "Glacial’s gotta go potty but Cure’s got her wrapped up pretty good. You got any ideas?”

Midnight approaches the pair and gets a good look at the colt snuggled into Glacial's mane. “Oh wow. He’s a cuddler isn’t he?” she asks with a titter.

“C’mon dam, don’t just watch and laugh. Do something!”

“Aww, but it’s so cuuute! Look at that big smile on his face. He must really like you.”

“Alright, enough of this.” Done with playtime, Dawn walks up to Cure, reels back, and kicks him as hard as she can right in the shoulder, eliciting gasps from the gathered herd.

“Jeez, Dawn. Not so friggin hard!" Rising yells, inspecting the impact site for any damage.

“Oh please, I’d probably break a hoof before he’d even feel it.”

Midnight looks at the sleeping colt, who’s now nuzzling a cheek into the top of Glacial’s muzzle. “Oh my, he’s a tough lil fella isn’t he? You shouldn’t do that to your coltfriend, though, sweetie.”

“I felt that through his chest. What’d you do?”

“She just kicked the Tartarus outta him,” Coast answers. “He didn’t even move.” Poking the colt with a hoof a few times, she turns to Dawn. “What in the hay is he made of?”

“I don’t even know anymore. I’m gonna have to levitate him off of you.”

“Okay. Thanks, Dawn. Just be careful, and don’t drop him! He’ll squish me!”

“Alright, I’m lifting him up, just gimme a sec.”

Everypony quiets down while Dawn lifts Cure in the air. Unfortunately, he’s not the only one that floats up when Cure wraps his hind legs around her as they lift off the bed.

“There. Just… ah fudge, he’s really got ya. Yer not goin anywhere.” Eyes going wide at the grip’s positioning, Coast stammers out, “Umm… is he… uhh… ya know?” getting blushes and uncomfortable giggles from the entire room. Heavy just sits on his haunches and covers both eyes with his hooves.

Grimacing, Midnight shakes her head. “He’s just snuggling. I… think we need to get some water or something to wake him up though. He’s young, but sometimes when stallions are asleep… well…”

Squirming to get loose, Glacial cries out “I really gotta go! WAKE UP, CURE!”

“Hrm?”

“Oh, that did it. I think he’s waking up,” Ferric calls.

“Hey Glacial. G’mornin.” Nuzzling into the top of her head, Cure barely pays attention to the group around him as he stretches his back legs. With a titanic yawn, he finally looks around at the group. “Oops. Sorry! Lemme down, Dawn.”

Dawn lowers the pair off the mattress, setting them on his haunches. As soon as both hit the floor Cure sets Glacial down. She quickly rushes off to use the restroom while Cure finishes his stretches and looks to the group. "’Mornin all… everypony sleep well?" he asks, absently scratching at his chest with a hoof.

Drift smirks at his drowsy face. "Some slept better than others, it seems. Enjoy your cuddle time with your Azure Flame?"

"Oh yeah, definitely,” Cure happily agrees as he rubs at his face with a fetlock. “She's a lot nicer to cuddle with than you were last night. You just laid on my back like a dead fish. Hey Heavy, she keep ya warm all night or did all the attitude give yer back frostbite?"

Drift, growls, bears her teeth, and her wings start to lift for a fight, but she's interrupted just as she's about to pounce..

Clapping her hooves, Midnight yells "Alright you two, no arguing before breakfast.” Dancing back and forth on her haunches she explains, “Sapphire's sire ran to the bakery so we have goooodieees!" she finishes singing out the word. Turning to trot out of the room she calls back, "Go wash up and come get yourselves some food! And no fighting!"

Drift glares another second, then turns with a huff and trots out of the room, everypony soon following behind her. Cure takes the opportunity to give Dawn a quick nuzzle. "Hey Sunrise, how'd ya sleep?"

"Good," she says, walking beside him out of the room.

There's three other rooms splitting off of the upstairs hallway; the only one Cure gets a look in has several maps and what looks like pins or markers stuck in them on the walls. There's also a desk and a bookshelf. Given the parent's professions and the titles of the few books he can see, he assumes this is Onyx's home office.

"I woke up snuggling with Ferric." Rounding the top of the stairs, Cure trots behind her as she continues. "You had Glacial wrapped up tight. She looked like she was a little worried you'd break her."

"Huh, that's weird. I woke up at one point last night and you were on me with her on the other side of ya. Saph was layin across my back and Ferric was on yers."

"Dunno. I guess we traded places somehow. You seemed happy to get a hold of her."

"She was soft and warm and snuggly," he says with a shrug. "I hope yer not upset because I somehow ended up wrapped around a pretty filly while sleepin. I'm certainly not upset you snuggled with Ferric."

"Ferric isn't a colt. We'll talk later," she flatly explains, ending the conversation as the group enters the kitchen.

It's much more modern than what Cure is used to. Like Grandpa Brick, Midnight and Onyx have a legitimate refrigerator. They also have a fully magical stove, nice counters, and a dining area with a table long enough to seat the eight guests easily. The foals all arrange themselves on both sides of the table with a parent at each end.

Cure finds himself between Onyx at the head of the table and Dawn with Ferric across from him by her sire. Down the opposite side to her left are Glacial, Drift, Heavy, and Sapphire closest to her dam. Cure notices Heavy leaning slightly towards Drift and looking at her with googly eyes while occasionally blushing a little. Evidently Cure isn’t the only one chasing after a fine feathery filly.

Good luck with that minx, dude. You better have the patience of a saint if yer gonna tolerate the purple ball of fury. Maybe pegasus snaring runs on the Y chromosome; your sire managed it somehow.

Delta Coast and Rising Pitch take positions to the right of Dawn with Midnight Gem opposite Onyx at the other end of the table next to her daughter. Cure can’t help but notice how nice the house is and how much fancier of a kitchen and dining room the pair have. It’s shocking to him that they didn’t have more foals, but who knows… maybe Onyx has “fulfilled his obligation” by siring other foals out there like Ferric that Cure doesn’t know.

Jeez I never realized it but I think my parents are poor. I guess they woulda been, having a kid at friggin sixteen with, apparently, nopony to help them financially. I'll have to remember to punch my dam and sire's parents in their worthless faces if I ever meet them. Forget what I said about being cordial with ‘em.

They'll never go without again if I can help it, I swear.

"Cure?" Dawn softly calls, laying a hoof on his side and jarring him out of his thoughts. Apparently he’d channeled a little of his frustration into his stare and it hadn’t gone completely unnoticed. Whispering, she asks, "Are you okay?"

With a sigh he explains, "Sorry. Yeah, I'm fine. Just thinking about work. Ya know I gotta be at the clinic around ten, so I'll need to go home and get cleaned up soon. Don't wanna be late for the first day and all. It’s like… eight or so right now, right?"

"Probably… but you're starting to work already?" Drift asks. "You said something last night too. Aren't you like… too young?"

Midnight Gem apparently agrees with her. "You're only… what? Eight, right?"

Cure leans forward a little to look down the table. "Yes, ma'am. I approached the clinic Dawn's dam works at for an apprenticeship. Counting that, I technically have three jobs with another one starting soon. Once we get the legal forms situated, at least."

"Son," Onyx starts, reaching over to put a big hoof on Cure’s withers, "I respect a hard worker as much as anypony, but I feel like I hafta ask why a young colt like yerself would have four jobs. My lil girl’s only got the one to learn her trade."

All other conversations have stopped and everypony is paying attention now.

"Umm… it's because of my special talent. I can heal ponies and fix things that are wrong like disabilities, poor hearing, or deteriorating eyesight. Something I've kept quiet is that I can also do cosmetic things."

"Cosmetic things?" Midnight asks. "What kind of things?"

"I know a pony that had stretch marks after she had a foal. I was able to smooth them out and give her back a flat, unblemished tummy. I could also help somepony lose fat or remove scars. That's separate from the clinic I'm starting at today. We need to get legal forms for that so nopony can say I didn't do what they paid me to."

"The clinic, cosmetic work… and you have two other jobs too?"

"Yes sir, I'm going to start working with the guard this coming Friday. Staff Sgt. Bulwark has a bunch of guards he wants me to help whip inta shape, so I'm taking 'em to a gym in Baltimare every Friday to work out. You know how muscles are built, right?"

Onyx nods, so Cure continues, “Imagine you lift something heavy, and instead of being sore, that muscle that you just strained is healed back stronger a moment later. You keep doin that for an hour and you just got months worth of exercise in one visit.”

"Dude yer gonna get even more ripped…" Heavy sighs out.

Cure shakes his head no while explaining, "Nah, I'm not going to get any bigger until I grow up more. I don't want to overdo it and I'm plenty strong enough now." Sensing the next question, Cure decides to head it off. "The other job is a private corporate health advisor position that I'm contractually not allowed to discuss."

"What the fuck?" Drift mutters. Normally Cure would expect Sapphire's parents to admonish her, but apparently that's what they were both thinking too because they both just kind of stare at him like he's got a second head growing out his shoulder.

"Does… it pay well?" Coast asks.

"Yes. Very much so. Sorry, but I'm not allowed to discuss it, but even without the cosmetic stuff I should do very well. I expect the cosmetic thing to be the most profitable because, let's be honest, everypony has something they'd like to change about themselves. My parents and I need to figure out prices for different things."

"... Huh. Well, good for you, young stallion," Onyx gives an approving nod, "just don't work too hard, son. You only live once, ya know?"

"Yes sir. Hopefully I'll only actually be working five or so hours per week, though. Two on Friday, two on Saturday, and the other jobs will be PRN."

"PRN?" Glacial asks. "What's that mean?"

"It's ancient ponese for "as circumstances require" so, basically, when needed. The cosmetic things will be by appointment and should only take a moment. The contract job is also just when they contact me."

"Can you show us something?" Drift asks.

"Sure, come here." Popping the last piece of donut in his mouth, Cure scoots over for Drift to sit between him and Onyx, intruding on Dawn's space a little. Once she settles in he has her face away, sit down, and despite her hesitation, spread her right wing towards Onyx so everypony can see.

Running a hoof down her back he explains, "Okay, so Drift, your wings are lovely, don't get me wrong, but they're solid purple the same as your coat. What if we mixed in your mane color a little bit instead? Maybe add some white and black highlights too?"

"You can do that?"

"Sure, it's just altering some pigments. Wanna see? I have just the thing in mind."

"Umm okay. You can fix it if I don't like it, right?"

"Oh yeah, of course. No problem."

Pulling up a scan from a bluejay, Cure overlays the pattern on Crosswind's wings, swapping the blue palette for hues of pink and purple to match her coat and mane. The effect bleeds down her wings like paint pouring down her back, causing gasps from everypony in the room.

Glacial is the first to yell out. "Woah… that's beautiful, Cure! How in the hay did you do that?!"

"What? Lemme see," Drift says, spreading a wing while looking over her withers. "Oh my stars! Mirror! Where's a mirror?!"

Jumping out of her seat, Midnight calls for Drift to follow. "Come with me, honey. I have a big one in my vanity," she says, waving towards the stairs.

All of the fillies follow along, abandoning their mostly-eaten breakfast and complementing Drift the whole way up the stairs. Cure, Heavy, and Onyx just watch them go, waiting until they're out of sight.

"Son… I got a feelin year gonna be workin more than five hours a week."

"Yeah, dude… every pegasus on the planet is gonna be huntin you down when they see that. And pegasi can fly really far."

Grimacing, but acknowledging they’re right, Cure can’t help but worry he’d just made a terrible mistake. "Ah fudge. Well, I'll certainly make some bits, at least. I dunno how much mares pay for a manedo, but I feel like custom wing effects should cost more than those, especially for the more complex designs."

"HA! Last time my lil Gem got her mane done she paid fifty bits. You could charge twice that and every pegasus from here to Canterlot will be fighting to stand in line to get that done. How long does it last?"

"Until I change it back. I changed everything. She’ll keep that pattern… I think forever. Unless something happens to her wings when she hits puberty, I guess."

Onyx stares for a few seconds, then bursts out laughing. "Oh son. You better be able to change yer own colors too, cause you won't be able to walk down the street without a whole flock tryin to steal ya away."

Hopping down off the seat, Cure starts backing towards the front door while mumbling. "I… better go. I may need to warn my parents."

"You better hurry before… Whoops, too late."

"Huh?" Cure barely has time to turn before a purple missile barrels into him. Unfortunately for Drift his immediate panic reaction is to brace, so instead of tackling him to the ground she bounces off his side and lands in a heap a couple meters away.

Cure rushes to help with the Heavy and Onyx right behind him, worried the filly may have broken something.

Groaning, Drift mumbles a thanks when she's helped up. A quick scan shows she would have had a bruise on her chest, again, but Cure quickly fixes it. Otherwise she's completely fine thanks to the bullshit pinball pegasus aura. That doesn’t stop Heavy from fussing over her like a mother hen, which Cure finds hilarious; mainly because it annoys Drift so much.

Arriving just a few seconds later, Glacial rolls her eyes and comes over to check on her friend. "Seriously, Drift? You literally couldn't budge him a centimeter just last night so you slam into him? You dummy."

"He was supposed to catch me!"

"I was?"

"No, you weren't," Glacial answers. "Maybe in her crazy head, but whatever." She looks Cure up and down. "I'm guessing you're fine?"

"Yeah."

The rest of the fillies, along with Midnight Gem, all pile in the room next, each with a twinkle in their eye and a hungry look about them.

"Well… I was fine, at least."

Cure was, fortunately, able to talk the girls down from doing anything too wild like he had with Drift. Most of them just ended up with some light coloring or an odd stripe in their manes and tails, while Ferric, Rising, and Glacial temporarily declined his offer.

Ferric wasn’t terribly interested and Glacial said she wanted to see how everypony reacted to Drift before she did anything wild. Rising said she wanted to look for a good style before she committed to anything.

Cure had a hard time not sniggering while doing Delta Coast, who ended up with a nearly-identical color scheme, though different style, to a future Mrs. Cup Cake. Sapphire, similarly, got a white streak like Lyra will eventually have, and Dawn got some yellow highlights to resemble future Sunset’s bacon-style.

Cure couldn't remember much about Sunset's character other than the basics. From what he recalls she was kind of a bitch, but he had to admit her color scheme on the fit unicorn was a real sight to see, and would certainly draw a lot of eyes her way. He couldn’t remember Sunset’s eye color, but Dawn’s magenta worked really well with the walking torch scheme she had going.

Midnight got in on the action once he offered her a freebie, though her request was a little more involved. With the promise of giving him a good deal for his special somepony's present someday, Cure, after securing permission from Onyx, helped with a little "fat redistribution" in the flank area. The dark stallion was eyeing her rear like a starving lion eyes a steak when he finished, so he was quick to flee the scene afterwards.

Once he’d appeased the fillies (and the parents) he beat a hasty retreat to get ready for his first day at work, almost sprinting home the whole way so as to not be late.

"I'm home!" he yells, pushing the door shut with a hind leg.

"Hi sweetie. How was your sleepover?"

Title and Vines are snuggled together with Deed sitting off to the side drawing. He didn't end up getting any painting supplies in Canterlot but the family stopped by Early's Odds ‘n Ends in Baltimare on the way home and got him some drawing pads, charcoal, colored pencils, and a few other things Cure has barely any familiarity with. The prices were half of what the Canterlot hobby store was selling the same stuff for.

An unconscious scent of the air confirms that his sire did indeed visit the neighbors last night, not that Cure cares one way or the other. He figures they’ll be one big happy family sometime before spring estrus in all likelihood.

After a round of hugs, kisses, and nuzzles Cure gives a quick, five minute recap of the evening and his accidental revenue stream he happened upon this morning, an idea that seems to intrigue both of his moms as they turn a critical eye at the suddenly nervous stallion working on a landscape illustration while doing his best to avoid making eye contact.

Cure rushes upstairs to get cleaned up and, upon returning to the living room, finds his dam packed and ready to accompany him. “Dam? Are you coming with me or something?”

"Oh don't worry, sweetie. I'll just be working on my crafts in a spare office. I spoke to Emerald while you were in school a few days ago. Until you're a little older I would prefer one if us be around so nopony tries to take advantage of you."

"That's probably not a bad idea, at least until they get to know me better. Also, who knows? If something big happened you being there to help me with magic could save a life. Either way, I'm sorry you're losing part of your weekend, dam."

Vines nuzzles into his mane and between his ears. "It's not a problem, honey. It's only a couple hours. Did you get enough breakfast?"

"Yep. I had a buncha donuts darn near crammed in me when I told 'em they helped me recover magic faster, so I'm all set."

"Let's go, then. You don't want to be waltzing in fifteen minutes late, right?"

"Har har, dam. C'mon."

Cure gives his dam a more thorough recap of last night and this morning while the two are trotting to the clinic. She’s thrilled to hear Cure had a good time and was relieved nothing too insane happened.

Apparently Onyx has indeed more than fulfilled his duty, not just in Golden Hills, but also in Baltimare. According to his dam, the dark stallion is pretty well known amongst the market gossip circle that she’s a part of, and each season he lands at least a couple well-paying contracts in the city or a nearby suburb and likely has a couple dozen foals out there.

Vines explained that Ferric’s dam works with Midnight Gem at the jewelry store. The two are work partners and good friends, so Midnight gave the slightly older mare her blessing when Diamond Pick asked her to borrow her stallion a year before Midnight decided to have a foal too.

Pony relationships are just flat out weird. I hate to pass the buck, but I think I’ll end up a lot happier if I follow Onyx’s path unless I can somehow pull off a Hail Mary like dad has managed and find a group of mares that like each other too.

“I think Dawn may be a little mad at me over this morning,” he confesses.

“Why, sweetie? You didn’t do anything wrong. You were snuggling with a pretty filly in your sleep. Would you have been mad if you woke up and found her and Heavy snuggled together?”

“I dunno… it may have possibly twigged some kinda territorial part of my brain. Maybe. Not once I cooled off and thought it over, I don’t think. Then again, it may be a different story if she immediately said how handsome he is when I asked about it. I’m not a good indicator for typical pony behavior, dam, that’s why I always talk to you about this stuff.”

“True. It’s better to be upfront and honest, honey. If you think you’re interested in more than a monogamous relationship then you’ll certainly save yourself a lot of stress and unhappiness sorting that out early on. Still, you two are too young to be worrying about it.”

Stopping mid-step, she fully turns and looks at Cure who pauses too. “Do not let this upset you, Cure. Like your mom and I said, let the fillies sort it out first. You may just be misunderstanding what she wants to talk to you about.” Resuming their walk she continues, “Also, if you two were to stick together she may change her tune later on in the relationship too. You never know.”

“Yeah, I guess. I do like Dawn, but I’ve really only been hangin out with her for a month and a half or so… I guess it is kinda dumb to act like she’s the only filly out there. I just hope she doesn’t get mad and blab about everything I can do. I’ve kinda told her almost everything, except for the memory stuff of course.”

“Well if she does that then we’ll deal with it then. I would be very disappointed in her if she did so. You’ve been nothing but wonderful to her and her brother the whole time and, again, you’ve not done anything wrong at all.”

“Yeah… I guess. Thanks dam,” he says, nuzzling into her barrel.

The two continue in silence until they reach the clinic. The regional manager, Ivory Gale, is waiting outside for them. She perks up once they come into view, smiles brightly, and enthusiastically waves for them. “Good morning! You must be young Cure’s dam, Mrs. Spreading Vines, right?”

“Mmhmm. You’re the manager, Ms. Ivory Gale? My husband and wife mentioned meeting with you a couple weeks ago.”

“That’s me! Please, just Gale though. That goes for you too, Cure! It’s a pleasure to meet you,” she waves a wing towards the door. “Come on in. Emerald asked for a spare office for you. I’ll show ya where it is.” Leading the way into the clinic, Gale walks past the desk with the same teenage receptionist girl that was there a couple weeks prior, pausing just past her.

“This is Miss River Falls,” Gale says while motioning to the young mare. “River, this is Cure Wave and his dam, Spreading Vines. He’s going to be working here for a couple hours each weekend as an apprentice.”

“Oh! Solar’s little friend, right? I remember you coming in a couple weeks ago.” The young mare smiles brightly and waves a hoof at the pair. “Hi there, little colt. Emerald says you have a very special talent and we’re all super excited to see you in action!”

“Hello. Nice to meet you too, Miss River.”

“Come along, Cure. Let’s get your dam situated and then I’ll introduce you to the nurse you’ll be working with.”

The clinic hallway is completely unremarkable. Other than the typical “Healthy Hooves Stay Clean”, “Cover your snout!”, and various other generic “health” posters there’s no decorations. The floor is the classic linoleum that’s easy to sanitize and the walls are an off-white with a slight blue tint to them.

The hallway itself is a bit wider, of course, so that four earth ponies can walk side-by-side down it, which is something Cure would expect in an actual hospital instead of a clinic, but is still convenient. Doors are wider than a house typically has too, and at least as tall as a human house would have.

“Nurse?” Vines asks as they walk to the back.

“Yep! We don’t typically keep doctors on staff in the clinics on the weekend, especially here where it’s a town of earth ponies. There’s just not enough traffic to justify the expense of a dedicated doctor seven days a week, so instead we have a nurse assistant covering the weekend and we have a pegasus on staff to fetch the doctor if something urgent comes up.”

“Oh. That makes sense,” she agrees.

“That’s probably normal in earth pony towns, dam. You know how hard it is for us to get sick or injured, after all. I don’t remember hearing about anyone catchin whatever that was Amy had last month and nopony at school is sick at all.”

“We had a bit of a flu going around at the beginning of September. You know how it is,” she says, shrugging her wings, “seasons start to change and everypony gets a runny nose.”

Pausing as they come to an office door, Gale opens it, leans in, and taps a panel on the wall, turning on a ceiling light fixture over a desk. The room looks like it’s completely unoccupied normally, though there are some medical reference books on a shelf to the side and a few lab-style coats on hooks along one wall.

“Mrs. Vines, feel free to use this room however you like. If you have need of anything please don’t hesitate to say something to anypony you see walking by, or just go speak to Miss River and she’ll take good care of you. Is there anything else you’d like before I take Cure to meet Nurse Gentle?”

Vines walks in the room and looks around before reaching back and starting to take her bags off. “No, this is perfect. Thank you, Gale. Have fun, sweetie,” she says, giving Cure a quick nuzzle before climbing into the chair to get started on her crochet-whatever-thing.

“Right this way, Cure,” Gale calls, leaving the office door open and heading to a large office room. Apparently all of the nurses share an office, but each has their own sectioned off half-height-cubicle area with a file cabinet, a small desk, and occasionally a framed family picture for decoration.

The only occupant of the room is a dark purple mare with a white mane. The coat color is very unique and the only other pony Cure can think to compare her to is Princess Luna’s. Cure’s not sure he’s ever seen a single other pony with that coat color, but it looks quite beautiful on the thirty-something earth pony mare before him.

“Gentle, sweetie?” Gale calls, causing the pony to look up. She even has Luna’s teal blue eye color, Cure notes. “I want you to meet our newest employee and your every-Saturday apprentice; this is the young Mr. Cure Wave I talked to you about.”

While she's coming around her desk, Cure notices the mare’s mark is a large white cross with a red heart superimposed over it. She greets Cure in a soft, warm voice. “Hello there, Cure, I’m Nurse Gentle Heart. You can just call me Nurse Gentle, though, dear. I understand you have a special talent to heal ponies, is that right?”

“Yes Nurse Gentle. It’s nice to meet you. Gale says I’ll be working under you for the next year or so.”

Nurse Gentle gives Gale a quick smile and turns back to Cure. “That’s right, dearie. I’m not sure if I’m going to be your favorite pony today, though, because before we get started we need to get you a flu shot. It’s that time of year and we don’t want the ponies coming to the clinic to make us sick, after all. Did you talk to his dam, Gale?”

The gray pegasus face-hoofs and apologizes, “Ah! Sorry, Gentle! You know I don’t do a lot of hiring myself!” Brushing a shoulder into the colt she asks, “Are you going to be okay with that Cure?”

“Yeah, that’s fine. I can go tell my dam.”

“Sure, I’ll come with you and, Gentle, is it okay if we meet you in room one?”

“That’ll work. I have his chart right here, he just needs the one and he’ll be all set.”

“Alright, we’ll be right there.”

The two trot back to the office and give Vines the update, which she doesn’t voice any objection to, of course, and then head to room one. Cure hops up on the exam table just as the nurse walks in pushing a small roll cart in front of her with one hoof.

The cart is similar to the ones Cure had seen at the grocery store, with a pedal that the nurse is pushing on and can also use to stop it with her field or turn it.

With Gale off to the side he watches as the nurse washes her hooves, dries them, and turns to the pair.

“Okay, Cure, how do you do with needles?” Nurse Gentle asks.

“No problem at all. Technically I probably don’t even need the shot, but I understand… protocol and all, right?”

“That’s right. This one will be in your shoulder, right here,” she says, tapping him in his left deltoid. “Just let me know if you feel dizzy or anything.”

“Sure,” he says, sitting on his haunches and holding out a leg for her. Quickly thinning the skin in the area so as to not bend the needle, he watches as she prepares the injection.

Cure has kind of learned to dismiss most tools he sees ponies using that seem to be designed for hands. After all, even with the weaker TK field that unicorns have, hooves are perfectly capable of doing the same things. Syringes are one of the few things he’s noticed are not the same, even if it’s a relatively minor difference.

The design is nearly identical; a needle, a reservoir, and a plunger. The only significant difference is that the body of the unit is clipped into a triangle shaped wedge that fits in the user’s frog, allowing for easier use of a pony’s TK field to depress the plunger.

Cure activates his talent and watches intently as the syringe is plunged into his leg at the shoulder. The shot appears to be designed to protect against a viral infection he’s already encountered at school.

The vaccine is mostly… not actually a vaccine. The vast majority of the mixture he’s injected with is water, along with a variety of sugars, what he assumes is preservatives, and several fats that Cure doesn't know the name of. Only about a percent or two of the half milliliter injection is what Cure would consider the actual vaccine part of it.

That means that his cherry tomatoes can likely house thousands of actual vaccine markers, but Cure isn’t sure if that would be safe. Perhaps a better approach is to, instead of trying to vaccinate a pony against thousands of viruses all at once, have the tomatoes focus on the specific virus that the leaves have detected.

That would alter the project a fair amount; making it a genuine “Cure Tree” rather than more of a “Vaccine Tree” as he originally planned. Or maybe he can make one of each and submit both for medical review when he’s ready. Cure is pulled out of his musings by the Nurse finishing up, and prepping a bandage for the tiny pinprick.

“I don’t need a bandage, Nurse Gentle. The wound is already gone.”

Pausing, the nurse parts his coat to get a better look causing Gale to lean over as well.

“Huh… you sure work fast,” Gale comments.

“Yep, a tiny poke like that is nothin. I don’t have enough magic for the big things, but for cuts and stuff I can take care of those easy!”

“Well, dear, I think if you could just do that for foals when they have to get shots that alone would be wonderful. Most young colts and fillies don’t just sit there all relaxed and watch like you did.”

“I bet not. I was just paying attention to the process, that’s all.”

“Well you’re obviously a very tough young stallion, aren’t you?” the nurse asks. She’s being sincere, but Cure still has to hold back the eye roll from the inadvertent patronization.

“Part of my talent. I can turn off pain in an area, so if you have to give somepony a shot I can do the same thing. They won’t even feel it.”

“Huh. Well that’s very useful, Cure. We’ll have to get some volunteers to see how well you can patch ponies up too. Gale?”

“Hmm?”

“Did you see anyone in the lobby when you came back?”

“No, I’ll go check with River and let you know. How about you give Cure a little tour?”

“That sounds wonderful. Come along, dearie. Let’s show you the best room in the clinic.”

The tour is short since the clinic isn’t very big. There’s the exam rooms, the staff offices, the reception area, a supply room, an actual legitimate office for the doctor (Doctor Warm Night according to his door’s print), bathrooms (both a visitor’s room and a staff one), a record's room, a room with some basic diagnostic equipment that Cure never will need to learn much about, and Nurse Gentle’s favorite room; the break room.

Cure has to hold back a chuckle when he’s walked into the room and offered another box full of donuts.

The work day, such as it was, ended quickly. Cure assisted Nurse Gentle with two patients; one a preschool aged foal that Cure didn’t recognize with a sprained ankle, the other a young mare who had somehow managed to slip while cutting up a melon and managed to slice her foreleg fairly badly.

She would have required stitches normally, but under close observation from the nurse and with the patient’s blessing, she instead walked out wound-free, cleaned up, and coat repaired within twenty minutes of her arrival. Cure isn’t sure if she was more excited about; not getting her leg shaved in the area or the actual healing of the wound itself.

Much of the day is spent observing Nurse Gentle as she checks supplies, fills out paperwork, and chats with the other staff between everything else she takes care of. Of course the question of whether Cure has a little fillyfriend comes up, and wary of saying much around ponies that work with Emerald Aura, Cure elects to give the “we’re young but I like her” line, which seems to placate the gossipy mares.

Cure considers the day a great success. Nothing wild happened like he half expected, the staff were friendly and considerate, and he got to help a couple ponies that otherwise would have had a slower recovery, minor as both injuries were.

He was even allowed to bring his dam a donut, something he originally wasn’t going to ask. Somehow it just felt tacky, but it was absolutely something a typical eight year old would do, so he figured screw it. She seemed happy that he thought of her and nopony went without.

It’s when he and his dam are just leaving town that Cure’s day seems to take a turn.

“CURE!” he hears shouted, causing both he and Vines to stop and look around. Glacial and Drift land just a little ways in front of him and trot over, seemingly in a panic. “I don’t know if you should go home! There’s a lot of ponies there lookin for you,” she says, turning to glare at her friend.

Drift shrinks a bit under the stare and her ears and tail fall. “Oh my! Cure said he gave you a little touch up, Drift… I must say, the coloration is absolutely beautiful.” Vines’ compliment doesn’t seem to help, unfortunately, and Drift only wilts more under the mare’s attention.

“Uhm… thanks Mrs. Vines.” she shyly mumbles out, something that is not even remotely like her normal demeanor.

“Let me guess,” Cure starts, “Somepony went around showing off and now there’s a horde of pegasi at my house waiting for me. Is that about right?”

“... maybe.”

“Yes, that’s exactly what happened,” Glacial growls, staring daggers at the unusually passive girl.

“How was I supposed to know they’d all go nuts? I thought I was helping him!”

“How is sendin a bunch of ponies to his house helpin him at all?”

“I didn’t send them there! I don’t know how they found out where he lives!”

“They found out because you told them exactly what he looks like. How many light blue colts with green manes around his age are there in the entire city, moron?”

“Please be nice, Glacial. There’s no need to call names,” Vines insists.

“Sorry, Mrs. Vines.”

Drift, who’s been considering the questions, grimaces and hangs her head. “He’s the only one, isn’t he?” she softly asks.

“Yes! He is!” Glacial pauses in thought a second, “At least, he’s the only one I’ve ever seen around town. One of my sire’s coworkers on the weather team probably saw him leavin his house this morning. You can see the whole freakin town from up there,” she yells, waving a wing towards the clouds.

“Yeah… and your eyes are ridiculously good, too… crap, that’s not good. Dam? Any ideas?”

“I think we should just go talk to them, sweetie. Surely they just want to know how to get something similar done, right?” she asks the girls.

“Mostly. I think a couple were complaining sayin you’re tryin to make us look like griffons or something, though, on account’a them havin a lot more marks on their wings.”

“Do they realize I can switch them back in an instant? It’s not like I forced anything on anypony after all.”

“I don’t even know, Cure.” Glacial sighs and looks around, keeping a wary eye on the sky. “This is exactly why I didn’t want anything. I was worried somepony would go nuts or something… I didn’t expect them all to rush over and surround your house, though,” she finishes with a grimace.

“Maybe we should go check in with the guard station before we head home, dam. I’d feel better about walkin into a group of ponies with the sergeant there to maintain order if he’s workin today.”

“That’s probably a good idea sweetie. Oh I hope Deed and Title are okay.”

“C’mere Drift, I’m not mad at ya,” Cure says, walking up to the filly and wrapping her in a brief hug. “Onyx, Heavy, and I kinda joked about somethin like this happening. It’ll be alright, so don’t let it bug ya,” he says, letting go.

“They’re fine. They tried talkin to them, but everypony was just insisting they tell ‘em where you were. You should probably… yanno… like hurry before somepony spots you,” she suggests, continuing to scan the air for any other pegasi. “You’re really lucky we’re the ones that found ya, but you said you were goin to the clinic, so I figured we’d find ya there.”

With a sigh, Cure nods and changes his colors to brown and yellow as both pegasi watch in fascination as his appearance is altered. The group turns and heads back into town, hopeful they can get some assistance from the guard.

“WHAT IN THE FLAMING PITS OF TARTARUS ARE YOU ALL DOING HERE?”

Cure has to give Staff Sergeant Bulwark credit. The shout isn’t quite at “Royal Canterlot Voice” levels, but for somepony not actively running magic through his lungs and vocal folds the dude can put out some serious decibels. At least four of the thirty or so pegasi shot up in the air when he let loose before they realized they weren’t under attack.

The sarge was not even remotely amused when Vines, Cure, and the two fillies gave him a run down of what was going on. Cure barely suppressed a snort when the sarge rolled his eyes and blurted out “stupid ponies sometimes, I swear” before he hollered for a couple guards to form up on him.

The seven made good time to his house, hopeful to get there before some kind of riot broke out. They found several of the pegasi (overwhelmingly mares) peeking in windows, wandering around the back of the house, and a few gathered in small groups just chatting and hanging out.

“This is a private residence, not a place of business. And the colt you are all hunting like a pack of ravenous wolves is EIGHT YEARS OLD. Everypony disperse and go home. I’ve spoken to the colt and his dam and he will shortly begin offering cosmetic services, but NOT TODAY. Now get movin’ or I’m gonna start handing out citations.”

When nopony moves Bulwark starts to draw another breath, pausing when Cure taps the sergeant on a foreleg asking, “Sergeant, may I explain to them?”

Bulwark nods and motions to the group who have, collectively, gathered to hear what the colt has to say. “Hey everypony. I just wanted to let you all know that, as Sgt. Bulwark explained, I will be starting to do small cosmetic procedures in a few weeks. I’ve only had my cutie mark for about six weeks, so my parents haven’t had time to do all the legal stuff to start a business yet.”

“Also, once I get started I’ll probably only be able to do a few a day. I still have school and, depending on how much somepony wants done, I will run out of magic after a few ponies. Hopefully when I grow up more I can do more, but please be patient. Thank you.”

Fortunately, ponies, while excitable at times, seem to be a lot more understanding than the average Black Friday shopper. None of the pegasi seem upset and a few clearly regret the way they’ve acted. There’s some talking in the crowd for a moment before Bulwark, apparently out of patience with them, yells out, “You heard the colt! Now get movin!”

Somepony in the crowd catches Bulwark’s eye as the group begins to take off.

“PRIVATE SWOOP, IS THAT YOU? GET DOWN HERE!”

HA! One of his own is in here. Oh man, somepony’s gonna get their ass chewed later.

While the rest of the pegasi take off the poor private gets a few lines like “You damn well should have known better” and “I want your rear in my office at 0600 tomorrow” before she’s allowed to flee, which she does with great haste.

Deed and Title, obviously able to hear the sarge, pop their heads out the door just as the last few mares take off. With a relieved sigh, Deed opens the door all the way and comes out to thank the sergeant.

“The colt said he’d done up one of his filly friend's feathers at a sleepover this mornin,” he says, waving a hoof towards Drift. “I sure as Tartarus didn’t expect this,” he continues, waving all over the place with his hoof. With a big smile he turns to Bulwark, “Thanks for talkin to ‘em, sarge! Yer a real lifesaver!”

With a proud smile Sgt. Bulwark insists it's all part of the job. "You're welcome, Mr. Deed. If you or your family get harassed anymore just make note of the colors and cutie mark and send word. I'll send a couple scouts to have a talk with the culprit. In fact," he chuckles, looking in the direction the private took off, "I believe I already have a volunteer."

"She did seem eager," Deed agrees. "Heya, sport. How was your first day? Is the clinic still standin?"

"Hi pa. It was when I left it. Thanks for the help, sarge."

"No problem, son. Just try to go a little longer without having any more issues with pegasi, will ya?"

Cure gets a trot-by nuzzle from his dam as she greets his sire. The two retreat back to the house, Title waiting for them at the door. "No doubt. Apparently it's one extreme or the other with 'em." Cure looks at Glacial and Drift. "Hmm… ya know what? I'm pretty sure I need to stop being nice to Drift, she's the common factor here."

"What?"

"That's… huh." Bulwark looks at the pegasus in question for a moment in consideration. Drift looks back and forth between Cure and the sarge, wings raising slightly in agitation. Turning back to Cure he says, "Be that as it may, please try not to cause any more disturbances if you can help it."

"Yessir, sarge. Thanks again!"

Bulwark turns, calls for the two guards that had accompanied him, and starts trotting back to town.

Despite the scowl from Drift, Cure smiles at the fillies and invites them in. "You two wanna come in for lunch? I think I'm gonna be sick if I don't get something other than donuts in me before too long."

"You just tried to sic the guard on me!"

"Oh please," Cure rolls his eyes and waves a dismissive hoof. "The sarge knows I was jokin. He was just playin the straight pony to my wise colt act. You think I'd invite ya in for lunch if I was upset at all?"

"That sounds nice, Cure, but we gotta head home," Glacial interrupts. "I'm sure word's gotten to our parents by now, so we better go see what kinda craziness big mouth over here has caused."

"It wasn't my fault!"

"Okay. Well either way, I really appreciate the warning." Cure takes a second to look around, taking in all the trampled grass and few shed feathers. "I can't even imagine how bad just walking into that mess coulda been, so thanks for huntin me down."

He gives each a friendly nuzzle and starts trotting to the house, calling back "I'll see ya later!" over his withers as the girls turn and take off. Pausing as they fly off, Cure gets a good look at the work he’d done on Drift. He has to admit, it’s really eye-catching when those wings are spread open.

Damn, maybe I did too good of a job on her. I guess I never really thought about how pretty such a common bird is.

Title pokes her head out of the door when he's watching them go. "Get yer plot in here, Cure! We're ready to eat."

With a sigh, Cure trots in the door and joins the family for lunch, giving them each a more thorough recap of the night and the day he’s had so far.

Lunch was thankfully more of the normal fare, but even still Cure shied away from anything sweet like the melons they’d grown. He thought it was funny that, despite the ability to taste anything he wanted, he found himself hankering more for something bland than the tasty produce his dam’s garden was producing.

Most of the afternoon was spent looking over spell sequences and identifying repeated patterns between them. It didn’t go as well as he’d hoped. It seems like each spell is custom made to do exactly what it does with some variation, but different spells that are doing similar tasks (i.e ranged attack spells) seem to go about it a completely different way.

Cure likens it to looking at work being done by different individuals. Some may use a few of the same principles, but each will likely accomplish a task via a different method. Until he can find a book or, perhaps in the future, a teacher that will help him gain a better understanding of what’s going on in the metaphysical realm the chances of guessing a correct runic sequence to accomplish a specific task are looking slim and, based on the safety warnings he’s read everywhere, dangerous to attempt without trained supervision.

Lemon and Amy came over for an early dinner before their run, bringing the girls along with them. The table was crowded with everypony around it, but there was enough room with Cure, Lotus, and Cherry on one side, Vines and Amy to their left, and Lemon and Title on their right. Deed, being the widest of the group, had his side to himself.

It was nice, Cure thought, having everypony together like that. He loved being sandwiched between the two fillies too, and their dams were gushing every time he stopped to lend a hoof or wipe their faces off. Vines and Lemon took the pair to the playground afterwards while the more business-minded ponies chatted in the living room while waiting for the first few runners to show up.

Title and Deed are snuggled on one cushion, while Cure’s happy to snuggle up to the purple mare on another.

“Huh, I hadn’t thoughta doin color alterations. That’s smart thinkin, Cure. Not how I expected ya to use yer talent. Bein’ a forever change oughta save ‘em some bits long term.”

“I dunno, Amy… I can see ponies not living nearby being a little leery of permanently changing their colors. I guess adding an extra stripe to yer mane isn’t a big deal, but I really just did Drift’s like that on a whim. That’s kind of a big change to not put any prior thought into.”

“Yah, but puttin thought into decisions ain’t somethin most ponies do, ya know?”

“True. Either way, it’s a cosmetic service, so we probably need to sit down and come up with some kind of pricing scheme for that and everything else I can do that’s simple. I figure you and mom would have a far better idea on that stuff than me and dad would.”

“We also need to hash out whether I’m going to offer more complex medical procedures for free through the clinic or if I’m going to try to contract with whatever health organization is in charge to at least cover expenses like my time and travel to see ponies missing limbs or whatnot. The hourly wage they’re offering is okay, but nothing like what you’d expect to pay a pony to, I dunno… fly to the capital to regrow somepony’s leg.”

“Start small, Cure,” Title suggests, “Until you have enough magic to tackle the big projects let’s just focus on the small stuff like your cosmetic procedures. I’m sure the clinic is aware you can’t wave a hoof and regrow a leg or whatnot, so they probably won’t even ask that kinda stuff until you're older.”

“Yer mom’s right, son. You are too. Better to let the mares sort those cosmetic prices out; most’a that stuff sounds like it should cost a fortune ta me, but without the need for a fancy office, staff, and all the years of education to pay for I’m just not sure what’s a fair price ta ask.”

“Well it’s a good thing we have somepony with a special talent in that department, isn’t it?” Title asks, turning to a somewhat unsure Amethyst.

“The numbers I’m thinkin’a still seem high. That little touchup ya did fer Lemon? Two thousand bits, easy. She got a consultation for it once. They quoted her 3k ‘n that woulda taken weeks of visits. Not a lotta doctors do cosmetic work ‘cause the spells are so complex. One mistake and yer gonna hafta take extra time ta fix it. At best.”

“Yeah but I feel weird asking for thousands of bits for literally ten minutes of work. Maybe half that or something would be more appropriate. I gotta be careful about undercutting the ponies doing it right now, too.” All three adults look a little unsure. They’re clearly thinking the same thing and aren’t sure what to recommend. “What about something simpler then; the color effects in the manes and tails?”

“A small stripe n'style? Fifty bits. More colors or more complicated? A hundred, easy. A big, complex pattern like that filly? Two hundred feels right. Of course yer gonna wanna make ‘em temporary, not like hers,” Amethyst explains. "I'd double the permanent ones cause they probably ain't comin back soon. Yer able to do temp work, right?"

“Yeah, I can just change the actual hair, fur, or feathers themselves instead of altering their pigments and follicles like I did with her. I’ll have to talk to Drift when we go to run tonight and see if she wants me to fix that… plus I don’t know how it’ll look as she grows.”

“There’s unicorns that do temporary work like that, Cure,” Title points out. “Well, not like that, but they already do mane coloring and whatnot, but I don’t get the impression you're interested in doing that kind of cosmetic work anyhow.”

“No, not at all. I mean, bits are bits but it was just a fun, one-off thing I did for demonstration purposes. I didn’t get any of that… you know… satisfaction?” Cure pauses to think. The word seems close enough, “feeling I normally get when helpin somepony like when you were sick, Amy.”

“Dern grateful fer it, too. Poor lil Lotus… I woulda hated seein her as sick as I felt. We’re lucky ta have ya, Cure,” she assures him, leanin down to give him a nuzzle. “Iff’n y’all want I can get with the attorney Lemon used to file her business paperwork tomarrah. We’ll getchya registered with tha city. Yer ma or pa can “own” the business and you’ll do yer thing till ya turn fifteen an’ can take it over.”

Cure considers it for a moment. He can’t think of any reason not to. Plus, it’s just another sign of the mares’ plan to join the family as far as he’s concerned. He knows Amethyst is grateful for everything he’s done so far, but taking care of all of that feels more like “something you do for your foal” than “helping a neighbor” even with the referral fee he’s offered… something he notices she hasn’t brought up yet.

“Well, did you three have a chance to hash out an agreement as far as your referrals? I definitely want you taking any expense on your part out of the pot before we go dividing anything up.”

“We sorted all that out, son. Don’t worry, we’re also gonna set some aside so when yer older and ready to work full time you’ll have plenty saved up to rent a real office too.”

“Good thinkin, pa. I’ll probably get an office in Baltimare; way more ponies that way. By then hopefully I’ll have plenty of magic to get through a long work day. Damn, it’s crazy to think I’ll be finishing school so early.”

“Gotta pass yer test first, colt. If ya do you’ll be quittin early, but you already know most’a what they’d teach ya anyhow,” Deed explains.

“Yeah, I guess y’all don’t exactly get high school diplomas do ya?”

“What’s that?” Amy asks. Cure freezes, realizing his mistake. He’d gotten so comfortable leaning on the mare he let the fact it wasn’t his dam completely slip his mind, despite the completely different coat color and scent.

“It’s a certificate of completion that some schools offer,” Title tells her. “No, Cure, you wouldn’t get anything like that anyhow. You'll get documentation indicating you've completed your schooling, though.”

“Okay, that sounds good. Maybe when I’m in my teen years I can set up some kind of contract with Baltimare Hospital or the bigger health organization that’s over them all and they can ship in disabled ponies for me to heal."

Conversation topics mostly covered, the group settles in to wait for the runners to show up. Cure nuzzles into Amy’s side for a few minutes while the three adults chat about some current events or whatnot he doesn’t pay attention to. A knock at the door draws him out of his stupor and he hops up to answer before anypony can react, scenting Dawn and Solar just outside.

Cure opens the door to greet the pair and calls back to his mom, sire, and Amy that they’ll be out back waiting for everypony; the majority of whom should be by within the next fifteen minutes.

Sat under the maple tree, Cure’s relieved and maybe a smidge wary that Dawn sits her haunches by him and lays across his withers. Solar is happy to sit just opposite of the two and turns to flop on his side.

“So,” Solar starts with a mischievous smile, “our sire said you had another round of fun after work today. He and dam really like the fire effect you gave Dawn too.”

“Did they? I think it looks nice on her,” Cure says, looking up at the underside of her chin.

“They really did,” she explains. “Dam said she’s seen styles like this costing mares a hundred bits or more. She was a little leery of it being permanent, but I told her you could change it back easy enough.”

“Yeah, do you want me to go ahead and leave the hair that color and just change the follicles so new hair comes in your normal color?”

“No way, I love it. If I change my mind will you change it back later?”

“Sure.”

The group falls into a minute of silence before Cure finally decides to address the elephant in the room. “So while I would normally not bring this up with anypony else around, I think we both trust yer brother enough for him to be present for this conversation… and frankly, I would value his opinion as an older colt and sorta-big brother. You seemed unhappy with me after I woke up this morning.”

“I… was annoyed, I think. Everypony knows you have a thing for Glacial. I thought they would give me a hard time when you were nuzzling into her like that after we’ve been hanging out so much.”

“Did they? I was the first to leave, so I didn’t get to stick around after I gave everypony a dye job.”

She answers with a deep sigh. “No. I talked to Rising and Coast. They looked at me like I was nuts when I asked if they were going to tease me. Between the jobs you're starting, the cosmetics, and Drift's vivid description of the massage I’m surprised nopony was already here when we arrived."

“So you kinda expected them to react like a unicorn typically would to their stallion straying?” he asks.

Solar’s happy to just sit there quietly and listen, so he continues paying attention even though he hasn’t had a reason to speak up yet.

“Basically.”

“Are you expecting the pony you marry to be monogamous? What about you, Solar? Were you gonna only have one wife? I would think unicorn stallions, especially, would be in high demand for studding.”

Solar elects to answer first. “I think I could be happy with one wife, but bigger families work better as long as everypony gets along. They provide more support if somepony is sick or hurt or loses their job. If I'm going to stay in the guard for a while I'll have to have at least a second wife so somepony is still there to help with foals if I'm ever deployed somewhere."

“Also, as you say, there’s not enough stallions out there. Unicorns are the worst off, I think. Pegasi can at least travel to find mates. Earth ponies have a few more foal producing years. The only advantage unicorns have is that we mostly live in cities, so we don’t necessarily need to travel usually.”

“I don’t know.” Dawn softly answers. “I think I would like my own stallion, but I just don’t think that’s gonna happen. It would be nice having more help with foals, though. How do you really feel about Glacial?”

“I’ve been kinda crushin on her since we played kickball last month. I’m sorry if that hurts to hear, Dawn, but I’m not gonna lie to ya. I think I actually have some kinda fascination with wings to be honest, but it’s not like… ya know? It’s not like I’m obsessed with ‘em or anything, just I think they’re pretty.”

“That and her coat is pretty unique. She told me her great great granddam was a pure crystal pony, so she has a nearly one-of-a-kind sparkle to her that caught my eye… it was when she launched up in the air and caught a kick and the sun was all behind her just right.”

“Wow… okay, yeah,” Solar agrees, “that sounds like a crush more than actual legitimate interest.”

“Duh. But that’s where most relationships start, too. Physical attraction leads to one pony approaching another. They get to know each other and it either goes further or ends there when ponies realize they’re not compatible. You’re rarely gonna get to that point with a pony you don’t find attractive though.”

“I haven't had a chance to get to really know her. She was interesting to talk to last night, but I talked to my moms about how relationships like that should work. From what they say I should just sit back and let the fillies approach me once I’ve shown I’m interested.”

Solar waves a hoof to get their attention. “They’re right. That's normally how it's done. Regardless, you two are too young to be stressing over this. Dawn, you have six or seven years to decide what you want before it even starts being an issue. Maybe a little more, but most colts are snatched up by about eighteen. Just be friends for the next few years and let it go from there.”

"Cure, you're not doing anything wrong by speaking to other fillies. You two have only even been… well, frankly, "dating" is more than what I consider your relationship since you haven't even actually gone on a date. Anyhow, you've only been hanging out for a few weeks. You're damn sure not expected to be exclusive; either of you."

"Cure, for the next five to six years, if anything, you should be searching out more potential wives since you'll probably have the income to support them. Not only that but the nation needs the kind of strong, healthy foals you'll eventually have."

“Dawn, if another filly shows interest in Cure don’t let it upset you. They may not get along enough for it to matter. Or, who knows,” he says with a shrug, “you may find you like them enough too. We are a herd species, after all… Cure’s parents seem plenty happy, and from what Cure's said that's with another two mares likely to join in. Or, not to sound negative, but you two may not work out and may even end up going your separate ways. You never know.”

“I guess… we’ll just see how it goes, then. Sorry if I seemed jealous, Cure.”

“Pfft… don’t apologize for that. My dam asked how I woulda felt if you were snuggled up with Heavy. I’d like to say I’d understand, but I think some part of me woulda felt the same way. At least, for a moment I would. It’s normal.”

“So,” she asks, “how was your mornin at the clinic?”

“It was pretty much what I expected. Nothing major happened; just a sprained ankle and a cut that happened in the kitchen. I was only there a couple hours and, like ya said, earth ponies don’t get hurt a lot.”

“Sounds boring.”

“I reckon most jobs are, Dawn. I think I can manage two hours per week though. I could see them shippin in ponies from far away once they realize I can fix almost anything. I haven’t said anything yet, but I’m sure they’ll put two and two together soon enough. Hey Solar?”

“Hrm?”

“You gonna ask yer sire if Bulwark’ll let ya come to the gym on Friday?”

“I… hadn’t thought of it. The sarge knows I’m enlisting come January, maybe he’ll be okay with it. Are you even going to have enough magic to get through the workout with however many ponies will be there?”

“My sire’s comin, so six plus him as I understand. I should be fine thanks to the magic regeneration cheat. I just need to load up on food before we go and minimize what I use otherwise. If ya can’t go this time I’ll ask Bulwark if he minds you playing chaperone if there’s a week my sire can’t or doesn’t wanna go.”

“That would be awesome. By the time I’ve gotta go I’m going to be in great shape.”

“Yep, forget one wife. The mares at basic are gonna eat you up. You're gonna come home with ten of 'em. You'll have your very own squad as a private!”

“Shattap, Cure. Jeez, I swear there’s no way you’re only eight.”

Cure changes his voice to sound like an adult mare. “Oh Solar… look at those big muscles on that chest. I bet they’re so warm. Let me rest my head there tonight, will ya?” he finishes, waggling his eyebrows at the older colt. Dawn gives Cure a good kick in the haunches and glares down at him.

“Stop hittin on my brother, Cure. It’s weird.”

“Oh look, your friends are here for the run,” Solar deadpans. “How incredibly convenient. Let’s go greet them.”

“Fiiine. Yer all the fireball I need anyhow, Sunrise. C’mon, let’s get these lazy slouches movin. Unless my eyes deceive me that’s yer sire headed this way too. Guess we picked up another stray.”

Author's Note

Okay, so, ironic with the way the story started and all, but guess who caught COVID? Fortunately I didn't die. Yet. The fucking cough is damn near killing me though. What's worse is, as symptoms started getting better I was exposed to the flu. So yeah... I've been sick as a dog since Nov 19th and am still hacking my brains out nonstop. Thank goodness Theraflu has a yummy lemonade packet. Good times!

Between the illness, work getting a little nutty here at the end of the year, and some things I put in 34 - 38 that I think I really need to revisit I will not be publishing a chapter later this week. I am very sorry for that, really. I would love nothing more than to sit down at the keyboard and pound out 10k words every day, but that just hasn't been happening lately due to unforeseeable circumstances.

Hopefully I'll get over this in the next day or two and can get back on schedule for next week.

Thanks, folks!

Chapter 34: Pay'n'Spray

Author's Note

Thank you all for your well wishes. I'm not completely better, but all I have now is an annoying bastard cough that's nearly gone, so good riddance to that mess.

This is just a short chapter that I wrote over the weekend when it occurred to me that I said when Cure is doing something new we'll probably be there (from the story description).

Note edit: I figured 35 would take longer. It's up now too.

Chapter 34: Pay'n'Spray

Wednesday, October 22nd, 908 AB (4 days later)

Cure woke up a little later than normal. He remembers snuggling on his dam after he got home and cleaned up, but he draws a blank on what happened next. Evidently he conked out shortly after.

He's self aware enough to recognize the symptoms; he's definitely battling some separation anxiety. Going to sleep alone isn't too hard thanks to the exhaustion of being a busy, active colt. It's the waking up alone that's difficult. It's no surprise that nearly twenty five years of waking up next to his love makes an empty bed seem very lonely.

Sleeping a lot is nice, and the stress-free life is something he barely has memories of from his… Edward's life. Bits and pieces of his childhood filter through.

He remembers dad driving him to his first ever soccer practice when he was five, sitting in the front seat with no belt on, asking about why the sky is blue or how we move and getting joking non-answers back. “Like this, Ed,” his dad says, wiggling his fingers.

Christmas at grandma's, his first crush in fourth grade, snippets of grade school recess, all the awkward embarrassing moments… ever. Those stuck very well, sadly.

It's odd what the mind hangs onto and what it doesn't. The failure, embarrassments, and regrets are carried for all eternity; the dozens of birthdays, parties, family gatherings, and other joyous events, however, are distilled into fleeting seconds of happiness and heaps of longing.

Once the memories move past childhood and into work life it becomes easier to remember… and more painful. Far more painful.

Rather than wallow in the past, he forces himself to rise, takes care of the morning routine, then gets himself groomed and ready for the day. Grooming is yet another way he gets to cheat with his talent. Having full control over the hair, oil glands, and everything else turns a tedious chore into a few simple brush strokes.

Cure finds his parents already eating breakfast when he comes down the stairs.

"Hey there, sleepyhead."
"G'mornin champ."
"Good morning, sweetie. Come eat."

After a quick round of hugs, kisses, and nuzzles (with a little extra for his dam) he hops on his chair and digs in. After a few bites he notices his mom and sire, in particular, giving him looks and smiles.

"What? Is there something in my mane?" he asks, reaching up to feel around.

Unable to hide the smirk, his sire quickly shakes his head. "Noooope!"

Title reaches over and puts a hoof on his right shoulder. "We have some good news."

"You're pregnant?" he asks, voice full of awe and eyes wide. "Congrats, mom!"

Sighing, she leans back and goes to take another bite. "Well if you're gonna be a smart butt…"

"We got ya all set up ta start yer business, son."

"What? How'd you get it done so fast? It's only been a few days."

"Turns out there ain't much to do. Ya just… start workin, basically," his dad explains with a shrug

Brows furrowed, he looks between the pair. "That doesn't sound right. There's gotta be more than that."

"You're not starting a corporation," Title explains, "you don't have employees… you literally don't have to do anything."

"And you're sure about that?"

"Yes, honey. I went there myself and checked. You just start doing business and keep track of your income. That's it."

"That seems odd. Government runs on paperwork. For them to just be like… go do whatever, we'll catch up later…” he pauses, somewhat bewildered. “Well if you're sure then I guess we can start as soon as I have some appointments lined up."

"Got that taken care of too, sport."

"Lemon's friends?"

"Nope, a couple pegasi."

"How? Were you takin names the other day?"

Title explains, "They were here on Sunday, but came by the office yesterday askin how the paperwork was comin along just after I got back from town hall. I guess they saw me from the sky, so they figured there was no harm checking."

"Yep." Deed excitedly nods. "We told 'em to stop in today after we had a chance ta talk to ya. I'm sure they'd be fine coming by after school."

"What about the form from the attorney?"

Vines answers, "Amy took care of that."

"Already?"

"How long do you think it should take a lawyer to write out a generic waiver and work agreement form, son?"

Pausing to think about it, Cure has to agree with the implication. It’s something an attorney probably has done a few dozen times, and likely even already has a pre-made template of that just needs minor alterations. "Umm… I dunno. Like… ten minutes, I guess."

"Did it take you ten minutes to do that filly's wings?" Title asks.

"Right, special talents," he nods in understanding. After a few seconds of thought he says, "Maybe more like thirty seconds."

"Probably somewhere in between, but yes. I used the Quick Copy crystal to print two dozen forms. You're unofficially open for business and, if you're ready, could see your first two customers today."

"Huh. Thanks, mom. I figured it would be another week or two. Why didn't you say something last night though?"

"When? After you came home from the range, showered, climbed on your dam, and basically passed out?"

"... Fair," he admits with a slow nod. He did crash pretty hard the night before.

"So," his mom starts, "should we tell them to meet you at Lemon's or do you want to wait?"

"Definitely. I'll meet 'em. We'll need to get some mirrors for up there soon, but for now I'll make a second Illusion crystal."

"Why would you need a second?"

"So I can use one to project their current appearance and they can use another to show what they wanna look like. Or they can project what they want done and I can use my talent and the other to show what it’ll actually look like… that should work better."

"Oh. That makes sense. Good thinkin. For now you'll just have to keep track of your income on paper. I'll order you a ledger like we use and it'll probably be here next week. Other than that I think you're all set."

"Cool. Thanks for getting everything taken care of, mom, dad. I just can't believe it was that easy. I’ll hafta go thank Amy next chance I get."

"Was it a lot more complicated in your memories?"

"I'm not sure. Maybe not if someone was just starting their own business and they were the only employee. I know starting a corporation was a lot more complex, but it probably is here too."

"Yep. That's why most ponies are just sole proprietors. Corporations and LLC's take paperwork and legal forms and have to be registered with the government."

"Don't you have an LLC?"

"Sure do, sport. I'm the owner and yer ma is the only employee."

"Ah… okay. I wasn't completely sure how all that worked. My memories all of working as an employee, so the only thing I know to do is contact an attorney."

"Sweetie, if you need to do one of your crystals before you go then you had better hurry. It's almost time to leave for school."

"Right. Thanks, dam," he says, scooping the last few bites of breakfast into his mouth, then quickly chewing and swallowing. "I'll go do that now. Thanks for havin breakfast ready."

Dawn was, unsurprisingly, happy to accompany Cure to Lemon's shop after school. After saying goodbye to the rest of the group they head over to wait for Title to meet them.

"So, any idea what they want?" she asks as they're on the way.

"Not really. My parents said it's a couple pegasi, so I'm guessing just some wing stuff like Drift."

"How much are you charging for that?"

"I talked to Amy about prices. I feel a little awkward but the amounts she suggested seem a smidge high, but the problem is that I can't charge way less than what other ponies do. It would cause problems if I'm charging half as much, especially since I don't have any expenses."

"Why? Would the other ponies get mad because you're stealing customers?"

"Maybe. It probably won't matter for years. I'll run out of magic after a couple jobs anyhow; bigger ones, at least. As you saw, I can do several color jobs easily. I just know that a new competitor opening at much lower prices for a similar or superior result can really mess up a market. I also don't want a million ponies swarming me. Again."

Cure trots ahead a few steps and opens the door for the filly, getting a smile and a quick nuzzle as she trots in. There's a couple customers there already; parents with foals, presumably from schools on the east side of town. Once again, Cure and Dawn go through the employee door, then wait for Lemon to conclude the transactions.

"Hey you two. Today's the big day, huh, Cure?"

"Yep. I'm guessin mom gave ya the heads-up?"

"Mmhmm. We went to lunch together. I'm gonna talk to a few friends and have 'em come in next week if you're ready for them."

"Sounds good to me. I'm going to have to set up some kinda appointment log so I don't book so many I'm running outta magic. Two a day sounds safe, more if it's just wing or mane stuff."

"Well if you need to get some sugar in ya just let me know. Celestia knows I'm ready. Speaking of, do either of you want anything?"

"Could I have some taffy, please?"

"Sure, Dawn baby. Cure?"

"A caramel sounds great, Lemon."

"Comin right up!"

The pair sit, haunches touching, while Lemon opens her display case and grabs the requested candies, each wrapped in a wax paper square, and passes them over.

"Thanks, Lemon!" They chorus, popping the treats in their mouths.

"You bet! Now go on upstairs and I'll send your mom up when she gets here."

After they give the mare a quick, appreciative nuzzle they make their way upstairs. There's not much in the small apartment area; it's basically a little living room with a few cushions, some toys for the fillies, a few books, then a small bedroom area and a bathroom.

A pair of large windows facing the front of the store provide adequate lighting, but Cure brought a few Light crystals to really light up the room. There's not much to clean up, so with Dawn's help and a prestidigitation crystal the entire area is spotless and the toys for Lotus and Cherry are stashed in the bedroom out of sight.

Cure sets out a stack of blank papers, a quill, and the crystals enchanted with Illusion and Quick Copy while Dawn sticks the Light crystals to different spots on the ceiling with a loop of tape and turns them on.

The two leave their bags in the bedroom and get comfortable snuggling on a mat together. Cure lays on his back, turned so his hind legs are to his left. Dawn lays to his right, happy to snuggle on his chest, gently nuzzling their chins together.

Letting out a content sigh, Cure has to really struggle to avoid falling asleep, but he figures his mom will be by soon. Just out of habit he finds himself petting down her neck and sides, causing her to let out a yawn.

"You're gonna make me fall asleep, Cure," she weakly protests.

"I'll wake ya up when I hear my mom. You can take a nap if you wanna."

"Mmm tempting, but I don't want to be snoring when your mom shows up."

"Eh, she wouldn't care. She'd probably lose her mind gushin over how adorable we are."

"I am pretty cute," she agrees, nodding into his chin.

"You have your moments."

With a scoff she argues, "You can't get enough of me."

"Pfft… you're the one followin me to work. You're just with me for my money."

"HA! What money? You haven't made any yet."

"Hmm… true. It must be my winning personality."

"It couldn't be anything else," she observes.

"Really?"

"Mmhmm. I can't think of anything. Maybe if you'd do something about these fat rolls," she says, poking his side.

"Somepony's bout to get it…" he warns in a sing song voice.

"Hmm. I'm pretty sure you're already pinned," she teases, sitting up and pinning him with her hooves under his front legpits.

Slowly looking down, he meets her eye and raises a challenging brow. Something in the look tips her off, so she quickly lights up her horn and wraps him in her aura while smirking in victory.

"Whatcha gonna do now, colt?" she taunts, waving her head from side to side. "A little unicorn filly has the big strong earth pony right where she wants him."

With a toothy grin Cure pulsates his TK aura around, quickly popping her levitation aura and leaving her wide-eyed and unprepared.

"Wha-"

Before she can react he quickly, but gently wraps his forelegs around her barrel, rotates his hind legs to his right, and with his much heavier frame, pins her on her back.

"Well look at this soft tummy… doesn't it look delicious?"

"No! Don't you da-" is as far as she gets before he blows a big raspberry on her belly, making her squeal out a laugh and start thrashing wildly.

"Oh my goodness! I thought you might be ticklish," he shouts, pausing to give her another, "but this is even better than I'd hoped for!"

"HAHAHA! NO! CURE! STAWPHAHAHA! AAAHHH! HELP!"

"Aww, poor Sunrise. Nopony is coming to save you! PBBBBTTTTT!"

"I'M HAHAH! GONNA HAH! GET YOU HAHAHA" "PBBBBTTT" "HAHAHA FOR THIS! STOP! PLEASE!"

"Well… since you used the magic-"

"Cure?" his mom calls from the stairwell. Coming up the stairs, she finds the filly still pinned and giggling, swatting at him as he nips at her belly and legpits.

"word," he finishes, looking up as Title steps in the room. "A victory for all earth pony kind, mother! Tonight we feast on our unicorn foe! I've slain a delicious morsel for dinner!"

Two hornless heads poke around the pink mare; one white with an aqua colored mane and the other a very light powder blue with a darker blue mane.

"Perfect! Our pegasus allies shall join us while we sup! A toast to our alliance against the horn-ed ones! Hear, hear!" he cheers, raising an imaginary glass and getting a glare and hoof to the chest from Dawn, an eye roll from his mom who moves off to stand by the pair, and giggles from the pegasus mares.

Climbing off the girl, he bows before the pair while Dawn gets to her hooves. "Good evening, my lovelies. I'll be your maitre de for this evening's roast. Could I interest you in a haunch perhaps? It's a little spicy, but that's where the fat, and of course, all the flavor is as well."

"FAT?!"

"Quiet, dear. Dinner does not talk," he flatly explains, with an exasperated look.

"Yer gonna pay for that," Dawn growls lowly.

Clearing her throat, Title shoots the pair a scowl.

"Alright," he nods with a smile, "joking aside, it's very nice to meet you both. My name is Cure Wave," he says, holding out a hoof to the white mare, "and my special talent," when she goes to give him a hoof bump he briefly pauses his speech to plant a kiss on her fetlock, "lets me help lovely ladies such as yourselves emphasize your natural beauty," he finishes, planting another smooch on the blue mare's fetlock.

Both mares absolutely eat it up, fawning over adorable colt's over-the-top greeting.

The white one introduces herself first. "Hello, Cure. I'm Snowy Skies and this is my wife, Frosty Glade. We have an event coming up and wanted matching wing designs like little Crosswind's."

"Exactly like hers? I used a bluejay's pattern for her, adjusted for the slightly different wing shape, of course. It would be positively stunning on the pair of you, I'm sure, given your colors."

"We were hoping for something a little different," Frosty explains, "maybe some spots like a snow owl?"

Dawn and Title are sitting to the side, quietly watching.

"I think I know what you're looking for, but I came prepared so we can be sure to get it just right. Now, before we begin,” he says, holding up a hoof, “since this is a business transaction I do have some paperwork for you," he sits on his haunches and reaches to his mom for the forms, then passes them to the mares.

"The way this will work is I ask that you read over the disclaimer about how my talent works, write out a brief description of what you would like done, then I have a set of Illusion enchanted crystals. You'll use one to show how you would like to look, I'll use my talent and the other to project the actual end result, then replicate that on the form with my fees."

"If you'd like to proceed then we'll sign the forms, my mother will collect payment, we’ll mark the forms as paid, I'll do the work, you initial that the work is done, and we both keep a copy of the paper for our records. Any questions so far?"

The two share a look and shrug. Frosty asks, "How long will it take and how long will the design last?"

"It should only take me a few minutes. How long it lasts will depend entirely on how quickly your feathers replace themselves. I don't have wings, so you know better than I. Of course, I can make the changes all the way to the follicles, so for a higher price to cover the additional time and magic requirements, it could be permanent or until you come back for a new look."

"As part of the standard package I'll also let you know, in a Sound Bubble for privacy, if my talent indicates any major health concerns."

After reading the form over, which is an explanation of the scanning ability and an acknowledgement they’re okay with it, the pair fill out the forms. Snowy goes first and, after showing the spotted, banded design she desired, Cure scans her and projects an illusion of her with it adjusted for her size and shape.

Both mares are ecstatic with the design and opt to go with a temporary version for now, including their backs, tails, and the undersides of their wings. They opt to leave their legs, chests, and bellies as-is. With the design quickly drawn on the forms, everything signed, and four hundred bits paid, Cure reproduces the spots on each mare's back and wings, going a little more slowly to ensure everything is perfect. He had not yet scanned an actual snow owl and the manual work was much more complicated.

Neither had any health issues aside from some minor dental problems he addressed for free, so within twenty minutes the transaction was concluded and the two happy, cavity-free ladies are escorted back downstairs to, Cure hopes, buy some candy from Lemon.

"You just made four hundred bits," the wide-eyed filly says, voice full of awe. "They were only here for a few minutes," she adds, waving a hoof at the stairs.

"Yep. And that's my entire work day. So… wanna go round everypony up for some kickball or something?"

"Cure… don't you realize how much four hundred bits is?"

"Umm… Yeah?"

"… I don't think you do. You're acting like that's nothing. I'm not trying to be rude, but…"

"What?"

"It's just… your house is… well…"

"Ah. Yeah, we’re kinda poor, huh? Well, look at my parents compared to yours."

"What do you mean?"

"My parents had an oopsie foal," he says as he pats his chest, "when they were just a couple months past sixteen. Your parents are older and have much more income." Approaching the filly, Cure nuzzles down the side of her neck and rests his head on her withers, giving her a neck hug.

"It means a lot to me. You saw an earth pony colt from a family living in a very… modest home, and you still showed an interest in me. This is just the start, babe. Once word gets out I'll be making two, three, even four times that most nights in the same amount of time. My family will never go without again."

Taking a half step back, he gives her a quick peck on a cheek. "Now c'mon. Pull those lights down. We'll get packed up and go do something fun."

Chapter 35: Cooper Team

Friday, October 24th, 908 AB (2 days later)

"Daaaam, I'm hooome!"

"I'll be right down, sweetie."

"I'm coming up, gotta put my bag away, dam."

"Alright, honey," Vines calls from her room, "your mom and sire should be here soon."

Cure trots up the stairs, hangs his saddlebags on a baghook in his room by his desk, grabs his horn cube, and, after performing the typical after work-slash-school routine, joins his dam, who is now in the kitchen.

Cure busies himself by floating dishes, cups, and utensils to the table while Vines prepares the food. "So you and mom doing anything while yer stallions are gettin their swol on, dam?"

"Mmhmm. Several of the other market mares are meeting at the library for our book club. We'll be home a little before dinner."

"Wow, that sounds like… fun."

"Oh I'm so glad you think so, honey," she says while slicing up a few cucumbers. "I'll be sure to bring home a list of the books to read for November's meet up. I'm sure you'll love them, and the other mares will appreciate having your opinion on them."

"Hooray," he deadpans. "Ya know, I actually looked at one of the books mom left by her cushion once," he tells her with a smirk. Vines' ears start pinking as he goes on. "It was a real page turner, dam. The bold, decisive mare approaches the handsome stallion. The wiles she played to get what she wanted… what she needed from him. The thrill of her conquest. Riveting stuff, dam."

"She… umm… isn't supposed to leave those out. I'll have to have words with her," she growls, glaring at the cucumber she's slicing.

Waving a hoof he assures her, "You really shouldn't be upset. This was a few weeks ago. She's going to have to be more careful if Dawn or whoever is going to be over here though." Vines reluctantly nods and lets out a sigh.

"You're right, honey. I'll remind her."

“Well, say hi to Mr. Binder for me if he’s there.”

“I will.” Glancing over her withers, she sees that the table is set and ready. "Thanks for setting the table. Now we just need… oh perfect timing," she says, looking towards the pair trudging in the door. "Go get ready for lunch, you two. The food's almost ready."

The duo call back greetings and run up the stairs to take care of their after work routines. A few minutes later the pair have joined Vines and Cure at the table and the whole family starts digging in.

"So how's school, champ? Give ya any problems leavin early?"

"Nah, between your note and the other foals reassuring her, Miss Apple didn't question it. She's heard everypony talking about me starting work anyhow. Besides, I spend more time teaching than being taught. I'm basically the class math teacher."

"I'm sure she appreciates the help, sweetie. Teaching so many foals must be difficult, especially with the different ages and everything."

"Yeah, why do they do that? I don't get why they don't have a single public school with all the foals in the whole town going. Why do they have a half dozen small school buildings for each section of the city?"

"Dunno, champ. I reckon ponies would approach the city saying "I don't want my foal ta hafta walk five kilometers to school each day" so they just built a new schoolhouse in the area nearby and called it a day."

"I guess. It just seems inefficient. Without the ability to easily travel several kilometers in a few minutes I suppose it does make more sense. It kinda blows my mind that ponies have never looked into any form of mass transit though. Except trains, and I guess those were one of the first mass transit things humans did too."

Cure pauses in thought for a moment before he recalls one form of transportation in the cartoons he hasn't seen at all yet. "Enchanted carriages," he starts, looking at his parents, "where are they? I haven't ever seen one."

"The ones pegasi pull? You don’t really see those privately owned much," Title explains, "but I hadn't thought of that when you were talking about pegasi aura stuff. I bet that's what the enchantment does. There’s companies in most cities you can rent those from. I don’t think it’s cheap."

"Darn… I bet that's a proprietary enchantment somepony figured out and keeps locked away."

"Probably. There's only a few companies that make those carriages. I don't know if they do the construction and enchantment or if they just build them and contract the enchantment part to another company."

Cure lets out a deep sigh. "I think we've stumbled on another obstacle to ponykind's progress. If that's the same enchantment company that has been around for a millennium and they're still able to keep that enchantment locked away then it's no wonder progress stops. Human patents only last like twenty years."

"Why do you think they've been around a millennium, sweetie? I thought your plays only covered about 90 years from now."

"There's a Nightmare Night episode with Luna in it. She arrives in town in this over-the-top villainous looking carriage that I am pretty sure was in storage since before her banishment. It scares the heck out of the ponies in town because it's the same place Nightmare Moon attacked when her banishment ended."

Chuckling, Cure adds, "I swear if I can find a way to share memories in an enchanted crystal the first thing I'm going to do when she's back is cram one of those down Luna's throat with a modern ponese primer installed on it. Maybe I can include some cultural "do" and "do not's" for her."

"Right," Title rolls her eyes, "good luck getting anywhere near her, Cure. Anyhow, you could be right about the patent thing. It may also just not be patented and nopony else has figured it out. I'm curious whether the enchantment is capable of expanding other tribes’ auras or if there's a reason it only works on pegasi."

"Maybe it doesn't do anything with auras," Cure suggests. "It just replicates the reduced mass or weight effect, mom. If it could expand or enhance other auras that would probably be a bigger benefit to us. After all, range is the biggest shortcoming we have. I can't fathom how useful it would be to extend our TK field several meters instead of a hoof or so."

"That's probably right," she agrees with a slow nod. Title takes a few bites while thinking. "Ya know what? You said the auras aren't magic. They're innate fields of some kind. I bet the enchantment is magical and just replicating it instead of somehow directly interacting with it."

"Good point, mom. It's probably possible to come up with a spell or enchantment to boost auras, but that does sound more complicated than just recreating the effect somehow. There's a spell I had discussed with Solar that gives a pony functional wings. I wonder if there's any overlap is in the runic diagram for that and whatever the carriages use."

"Anyhow, dam, school is going well and it's kinda fun for the most part. It's basically me and all the foals we run with just hanging out while we're learning together. Miss Apple gives us a lecture, we spend a while reading and discussing it while she works with the older foals, and occasionally she'll have the whole class pay attention for some topics instead."

"Yep, that's basically how it works, champ. Are they doin anything like a play for Hearth's Warming?"

"Nope! Another school got picked to do the play this year, probably because we have a new teacher, so I dodged that… well, I guess bullet doesn’t work here. Arrow. I dodged that arrow."

"Aww! I thought we’d finally get to hear that lovely singing voice 'a yers, son."

Raising an eyebrow at the stallion, Cure wipes his face, clears his throat, and sings out a perfect scale to the wide-eyed astonishment of all three. "Do Re Me Fa So La Ti Dooooo"

"Oh honey! That was beautiful! I didn't know you could sing like that! When did you start practicing? I've never heard you sing before."

"He freakin cheated!" Title shouts, poking Cure with a hoof. He smiles smugly back and nods.

"Yep. Hitting notes right isn't hard when you can have enhanced hearing. I can also make minor tweaks to increase my range, but that’s not necessary to hit most notes. It’s more about the precision muscle control. I haven't tried but I bet I could reproduce most wind instruments too. That would take some practice and a lot of tweaking, though."

"Pretty impressive, son. I think ya oughta share that hearin and maybe the sniffer with us if ya think we can manage 'em."

"It's been a few weeks since I gave you the heat sensors. We can start doing the same thing with other senses at night when I'm working on your skeleton and height and whatnot."

"So we'll be able to hear as well as the bat ponies can?"

"Actually, mom, I ended up going with the hearing sensors from a moth. Their hearing is just as good as an actual bat’s and, of course, moth sized. No tinkering with the brain anymore if I can avoid it. The difference is that we have to train our brains to manage the additional data."

"The same warning applies as with the heat sensors. If you all start feeling skittish or anxious it may be sensory overload setting in. I'll probably only up your sensitivity a few percent every week or two. We already have pretty good hearing and smell."

"Can you do me right now?"

"I'd like to try it too, sport. Finish yer food and let's do it before we leave if ya don't mind."

"Alright, one sec." Cure quickly finishes the last few bites and levitates everypony's setting to the sink, then joins his parents in the living room. Deed is sandwiched between the mares with their cushions all pulled together, so Cure climbs up on his back.

"I'll need you all to supply the magic mostly, that way I'm not running low at the gym."

"Sure, champ. Ready when you are."

Laying down on his sire, Cure rests his head on Deed's withers and gets started. The change is mainly to the tympanic membrane and the receptors surrounding it, but there are also changes needed to the cilia as well.

For the enhanced sense of smell the density and quantity of receptors in the nose are both increased. Typically each smell receptor has one dedicated olfactory neuron, but the modified organelles Cure adds include a wide variety of specialized receptors on each neuron, allowing him and, now, his sire to detect a variety of scents that typical ponies are incapable of picking up.

In order to not overwhelm the stallion, Cure doesn't add many of the receptors. It'll still be an adjustment for Deed, but not so bad as suddenly going from typical pony to bloodhound levels would be.

"Alright, dad. Take a few minutes to get used to it. The biggest changes will be the variety of things you can smell and hear. You'll hear and smell more, but I tried to keep the actual intensity at about the same level until you can get used to it. Maybe I can hook all of that into your conscious nerve control so you can turn it up and down yourself."

"Really? That sounds great!"

After pausing in thought, Cure nods to himself. "Yeah let me do that instead. One sec."

Diving back in, Cure makes the changes but sets everything to the lowest intensity, which is basically baseline pony, just with a wider scope of detection. "Okay dad, feel this?" he asks, gradually adjusting the smell setting up and down in tiny increments.

"Yeah. Feels weird, but I got it."

"I really don't think you want to turn it up all the way. It'll be like getting a face full of really strong perfume or something. Now pay attention to your hearing. Feel this?" he asks, doing the same with the receptor cells surrounding the tympanic membrane.

"Got it."

"Okay. Just be conscious of the frequency of things you're hearing and try not to visibly react to stuff it should be impossible to detect normally."

"I've brought up changelings several times. If you walk past a pony that smells weird or, especially, smells like they've been underground, you have to control your reaction and your emotions, for example. A spike of fear directed their way will tip 'em off that somepony may know there's something wrong, for example."

"Oof… that may be hard to pull off, son."

"Yer gonna have to, babe," Title explains. "They may run away, but they may also note your mark and colors and come try to take ya to find out what tipped ya off."

"Right," Cure agrees, nodding into his back, "they may even call in reinforcements and haul us off. We'd probably surprise them with how strong we are but I'd rather avoid that until I'm fully grown."

"Be especially mindful when in cities. I haven't detected any in Golden Hills, probably because there's just not enough ponies… or they’re just undetectable. I can almost guarantee there's at least a few in Baltimare, but the odds of just bumping into one with how infrequently we're there is small."

"I'll do my best, son."

"Good deal. You're up, mom," Cure calls, gingerly climbing off of his side and snuggling into the pink mare. Cure walks her through the same steps as Deed and she immediately starts poking around the house. Once she gets close to the stairs she yells back, "Oh wow! I can still smell Lemon and Amy from upstairs!"

"And that's why I keep my senses at normal pony levels most of the time. Dam? Are you interested in trying these? You'll have full control over the intensity, so I'm just making it possible for you to detect more if you want. It's not like you'll have to turn them up or down if you don't want to."

Looking at her mates she asks, "Is it really just normal if you keep the intensity on low?" Both reply with nods and encouragement, so she finally relents. "I… guess that's okay sweetie."

"If you aren't sure just say so, dam. This really needs to be your choice, not anypony else's. You've been a little inconsistent with which changes you're okay with and which you're not, so I'm not really clear on whether there's a logical reason or if it's more of an emotional response to change in general."

"I'm sorry, baby, it's just… I don't know why but changing things like that just… I don't know! It worries me and I'm not sure why."

"It's okay, dam. I've talked at length several times about how resistant to change ponies seem to naturally be. This is just like the skeletal strengthening we're doing. It's something that'll help keep us safer. With enhanced smell you'll be able to detect things that may go unnoticed otherwise."

"For example, maybe some rodents find your garden. With the improved smell you'd know right away before they multiply or something. The important part is that you have control over the change. Nopony is going to force you to do anything you don't want to."

"No, you're right. I don't have a good reason and it could be very useful. Go ahead, honey."

Cure leans into her side. Once she begins sharing her magic he makes the same changes, then goes through the quick training process like the other two. "Go try some of the food left from lunch, dam. I didn't do anything to your taste buds, but I think you'll pick up more flavors now too. Hopefully you can get a bite or two before mom inhales it all," he suggests, smirking at the glare sent his way from the kitchen.

"Thanks, sweetie, I'll go try a few things before I clean up the kitchen."

"Sure thing, dam. The same warning I gave dad applies; adjust slow or it'll overwhelm ya. You especially wanna take it slow on already strong flavors like spices and stuff. I don't think it would be harmful, but certainly unpleasant." Looking at his sire he calls out, "Hey dad, when do we need to go?"

"Whenever yer ready, sport. Bulwark asked us ta get there in time for the afternoon train, so we may wanna head out."

"Alright, bye dam, bye mom, enjoy your horny mare book club," he says, giving each a nuzzle before making his way towards the door.

The guard station reminds Cure more of a police station from a 1920s mob movie more than any kind of military outpost. The building is two stories tall with no real defensive properties he associates with the police in America. It looks like any other office building as best he can tell, just a bit more ornate than the typical cookie-cutter square buildings that don't get crown money.

The main entrance opens directly to a lobby with a few rows of upholstered benches. There's enough waiting room for maybe a dozen ponies, but with a wide reception counter there's room for three petitioners to talk to a receptionist or guard at a time.

Cure assumes the lobby doesn't get a lot of visitors in a small town like Golden Hills. Crime, as far as he knows, is nearly non-existent here. The rest of the building behind the reception desk is blocked off by walls on either side of it with a single, heavy looking locked door to the right.

The mare covering the front desk must have been told to expect the pair. Before Deed even approaches to get in line behind the current petitioner she asks the pony she's helping to give her a second. She disappears through a door and Cure hears her yell "They're here, sarge!" She waves them towards the door when she returns and resumes her conversation with the mare. It's apparently something about property lines and a dispute over misplanted produce.

Deed and Cure stand at the door for a moment until it's opened by a chestnut colored unicorn mare with a crimson mane. "Clean Deed and Cure Wave, right?" When they both say "You bet, miss" and "Yes ma'am" she jerks her head behind herself, tells the pair to follow, turns around, and leads them back through a hallway that turns left after about six meters.

There's a door immediately on the right after the turn, but Cure isn't tall enough to see through the glass. From the sounds and smells he's pretty sure it's just an office area. The door on the left goes into the receptionist's area. Cure can see the hallway turns right again, with a couple more doors on the right. The first leads into the same office area again but the farther one is apparently their destination.

The mare opens the door to a meeting room with Sgt. Bulwark by a large chalkboard surrounded by bulletin boards and four more ponies taking up most of the front row of desks. The desks are more akin to schoolroom style desks, apparently meant for the guards to take notes on.

I think this is what they called the bullpen on Dragnet. It looks a lot like the meeting rooms where they would have their daily briefings. And now I've seen my first bat pony. Neat.

As the chestnut mare takes the closest desk Bulwark greets the new arrivals. "Mr. Deed, Mr. Wave," he continues, ignoring the amused look from Cure, "come on up, front and center."

After the two walk to the front of the group he turns back to them explaining, "Alright everypony, this," he rests a hoof on Cure's withers, "is Cure Wave, the RMF-4 we got at the beginning of the month. He's going to make the two hours of exercise you get today worth twenty or more. He's gonna whip us and the other group under Sgt. Haze into shape over the next three months, then we'll evaluate our progress and maybe do three more. He's asked to not share his status unnecessarily, so you will respect that."

Nodding to Deed he continues. "His sire, Mr. Clean Deed is accompanying him today." With another glance back to the group he waves to the chestnut unicorn and says, "Introduce yourselves. Corporal Ricochet led you back here, go ahead and start, corporal."

The same chestnut mare stands, more at ease in Cure's mind rather than at attention, and quickly rattles off, "Corporal Ricochet. It's nice to meet you. Feel free to just call me Rico," before sitting back down.

Next is a denim blue pegasus stallion with a yellow mane. "Corporal Static Arc. A pleasure. Static is fine."

The bat pony mare to his right stands next. She has a blue coat as well, but is more of a navy shade with wine colored mane, tail, and wings. "Sergeant Shadow Song, Night Guard lead. Just Song works."

Cure feels a little guilty for some reason. He'd expected some kind of strange tick or Transylvanian accent, but aside from the slightly bigger, deeper, perkier ears, a set of human-looking teeth, membraneous wings, and a softer voice than average she seems perfectly normal. She is a little shorter than Static, but that's typical for mares.

Well there goes another fanon bullshit thing down the drain. So far with bat ponies more shit seems wrong than right. Most didn't really make sense anyhow I guess. Why would an omnivore version of the same species be physically smaller? And why would they have an accent from a part of Europe that doesn't seem to have an equivalent here?

Despite Cure's drifting thoughts the introductions continue when a pale yellow unicorn stallion with an orange mane stands up. "Private Silent Bolt. Bolt's good enough for me."

Last to stand is, as best Cure can tell, is a slightly more blonde maned, mare copy of Big Macintosh. "Private Rushing Charge. Just call me Rush," she says in a deep voice.

Cure swears on the spot that if his Great Grandsire ends up pissed at him somehow he's going to hide behind the private. Her cutie mark is, coincidentally, a brick wall being blown apart like a wrecking ball just hit it.

"This is the first half of the guards I plan on entering in next year's competition, Cure. Any questions?"

"A couple. First off, what's RMF-4?"

"Article seven of the revised code deals with restricted weapons and schools of magic. RM is just the designation for "Restricted Magic" and, in that article, section F lists allowed exemptions. A cutie mark granted talent is the fourth one, as you may have guessed."

Cure slowly nods along with a thoughtful frown. "Huh. Okay, that makes sense. Has everypony had my talent explained to them? The scanning part is what I'm curious about, specifically."

"They have," Bulwark assures him with a nod. "They're all aware that you've started working at the clinic too, so," he continues answering even while turning to the group, "they will treat you in a professional manner, regardless of your youth," he finishes in what was clearly an order. From the looks on their faces it came through loud and clear.

"Perfect. Are they all current on physicals or do I need to check 'em over before we leave? I don't want to have to pull somepony out of cardiac arrest when I could've prevented it, ya know?"

"No, we don’t want that. Sgt. Haze gave them all a checkup a few days after we ran. If he'd found anything you probably would have heard from us ASAP."

"Great! I think we're all set. Unless there was anything else…?"

"Just one thing. Here," he says while hoofing over a couple lanyards, "you'll need to wear those outside the gymnasium at Base Carol."

The two look over the lanyards; the attached tag is a bright orange card that says "ADVISOR" on one side and on the other is their names, colors, marks, and "BRG3 SSG BULWARK" at the bottom.

"BRG3?" Cure asks looking up to the sergeant.

"Baltimare Regional Guard, Sector 3. That's the squad designation for any guard unit posted in Golden Hills." At Cure's understanding nod he turns back to the group and shouts, "Let's move!"

The five squaddies line up with Cure and Deed taking the rear, then exit the building through a guarded back door. Once outside Sgt. Song takes the rear position, Sgt. Bulwark leads, the two corporals take the left side and the privates on the right. The group moves at a fast trot with Deed and Cure following behind side by side heading to the train station.

Base Carol is a hell of a lot smaller than any military base Cure had ever seen in the US. The standard buildings were all present; barracks, armory, training grounds, command facilities, an MP… or rather Guard Police station, etcetera. It's just all scaled down from what he's accustomed to. It was only about the size of a large high school and the surrounding campus, so 200 acres, give or take.

Granted Edward never had much reason to be on a military base, but Fort Knox was basically a city from what he remembered when he went to a cousin's Basic graduation. There was also an air force museum on a base not too far away and, while he didn't see much of the base itself, there were literal miles of highway exit signs for Section A, B, C and so on.

Base Carol is home to only a couple dozen ponies, with the vast majority living off base in the city. The ground-based city is split into four quadrants, each with a Second Lieutenant commanding several sergeants or an occasional Staff Sergeant further dividing the region.

A special, dedicated air unit of pegasi with a few unicorns and earth ponies to support it is assigned to the pegasus neighborhood that tends to hover mostly to the northwest, about a half kilometer off the ground. Since the area is almost exclusively a housing development and the air unit can patrol much more quickly, the actual size is much smaller than the outlying communities and has a single sergeant assigned.

Everypony ultimately reports to the captain responsible for the safety of the citizens in the metropolitan area, though most issues are filtered by the First Lieutenant that serves as his executive officer.

Because the total company size is only a few hundred, including the Regional Guard units in surrounding communities, the base itself doesn't look to be any more than a dozen or so buildings. Cure assumes each section of the city has several outposts that have the individual squads' standard gear on site and serve as police stations like the one in Golden Hills.

The only one that concerns Cure at the moment is the gymnasium, which, on the inside, is strikingly similar to what he'd seen on his previous trip to a gym in Baltimare. So much so that he wonders if Rusty Barbell is a former guard and copied the idea. As much as he is dying to, he resists the urge to get his own personal numbers and instead focuses on the job he's being paid for.

"Sarge, did you have specific goals in mind for each of your guards or are we just going to have them all working on pure strength training?"

"Sergeants Song, Haze, and I came up with a training plan, son. We don’t expect you to sort all that out for us. Just do what you can to help them with their strength training and we’ll do the rest."

"Alright. Okay, everypony, I want your attention here, please," Cure yells as he leads the group to the draft pull machine Deed had used last time. "I need a volunteer, preferably somepony that hasn't ever lifted much before."

"Yo!" Silent Bolt yells as he laughs and runs up to the machine. "I'm guessin ya don't mean horn-power. I ain't never lifted no weight 'cept durin basic."

The private seems to be genuine. He’s not muscular like an earth pony, but he lacks the somewhat softer look most unicorns have. Lean is a good description for the younger yellow stallion that Cure estimates is in his late teens to early twenties.

"What? Wasn't basic really difficult then? Solar Strike has been killing himself to get in shape."

"Sgt. Haze's son? I know, the colt's ripped. They don't work unicorns like that. Muscle ain't the most important thing for us, ya know?"

"What?" Cure asks, looking to Bulwark for confirmation and getting a nod back. "You do realize that the more muscle a unicorn has, the faster you regenerate magic, right?"

"Eh, that's never been proven. Glad ya did yer research though, colt."

"Well I'm telling you from experience working with Solar, it's true as best I can tell. You run yourself dry tonight and time how long it takes to get back to normal, then do it again in three months. You'll see a difference, trust me."

The private is just about to answer before Bulwark cuts in, "I'd like to see those numbers, private. We'll test that out when we get back to town later." Pvt. Bolt grimaces at the order, but nods in acceptance with a "Yes sir!"

"Alright Bolt, that aside, strap yourself into the harness here and we're going to demonstrate how my talent can help you build muscle. Before we start, you all gorged at lunch before I met with ya, right?"

Getting affirmations from everypony he continues, "Great! We're going to turn that food into straight muscle now. How much is your max on the draft pull?"

"Two forty," he proudly beams. Cure isn't sure if that is high or low for a unicorn. Probably not bad if it's a hundred kg over his body weight.

"Alright then we'll start at one sixty just to warm ya up. Give me ten of those while I explain."

With a nod the yellow stallion levitates the bolt into the hole for two plates, slips the harnesses on, tightens it down, and starts pulling while Cure calls over the grunts and sounds of moving metal.

"So what happens when you exercise?" he asks. "The strain you put on your body creates microtears in your muscles. Micro means small, of course, and in this instance you would need a good microscope to see them. Your body detects that injury and, instead of just putting it back how it was, adds a little extra too, that way the same exercise won't cause as much damage next time."

"Ligaments and tendons go through a similar process to gain flexibility and strength but it's a lot slower than muscle. Bones do something a little different. When they're strained they don't tear or anything, thankfully, but the tiny parts that make up the bone will basically say, "Hey that strain sucked, I need to toughen up so I don't break next time." I can cause your body to do all of that in a couple minutes instead of weeks. How many reps is that, Bolt?"

"Eight"
"Nine"
"Ten," he grunts out, easing the weight back down. "Bit much for a warmup, colt."

"Don't worry, Bolt, this is the good part. Give me a hoof bump and hold it a moment. I'm going to fix ya back up ta daisy fresh and then we'll really get started. I just wanted that heart pumping before the real show. You're gonna feel the same thing as a diagnostic spell here. This’ll take a moment the first time I run it on each of ya."

Bolt reaches out and grabs Cure's hoof with everypony watching in silence. Cure gives the unicorn the full "Get Swol" routine he'd developed over the last month and a half, plus a little direct manipulation of the strained muscles beefing the private up similar to how Solar had over a week of running. After about two minutes he lets go.

"Alright Bolt, let's give 240 a go," he says, getting raised brows from everypony but his sire.

"Umm… alright, well I definitely feel good as new, so sure." Bolt moves the pin down a plate, squares up, pulls the lines taut, and with a great deal of strain slowly pulls himself forward, ignoring the wide-eyed looks of the non-earth ponies present. After about ten seconds he gets to the line that marks a body length, then slowly backs the plates down to the stack.

"WOO! SWEET CELESTIA!" he yells out, pumping a hoof to the cheers of the others. Even Bulwark is giving him an approving stomp and smiling proudly at the private. "See that Rico? Two forty on the first try! Sarge, this colt's pure gold! What's next, son?"

"Next, we repeat the cycle. It'll take several sets to get up to two eighty. Sarge, what's the safe limit for a unicorn before their grabbing field can't keep up with the weight? I'm sure there's an upper limit."

"On that machine I think it's two and a half times body mass. I think Sgt. Haze said Bolt is one thirty, so he'll need to go to a different machine after three twenty. How about you work with Bolt and just come around patching the rest of us up between sets. If yer sire's okay with it he can join me and Private Rush so we can show him how all the different machines work."

"Sounds good, sarge. Thanks!" Deed calls out.

"Sure, I think next time we come we should bring some carryout though. Private Bolt doesn't have a lot of fat on him for me to work with, so once we burn through the food in his stomach and a few kg of body fat he'll be done for the day."

"This isn't going to take three months, is it?"

"I'd wager two, tops. But that gives me time to work with the flyers on their wing strength and unicorns on horn endurance, so by the end of month three your squads are gonna eat lightning and crap thunder."

"HA! Sounds good, son. Don't let Bolt slack off, now."

"Yessir," Cure calls back and gets the unicorn ready for round three.

"Alright Bolt," Cure starts.

"Yo!" The eager unicorn interrupts with a big smile, holding out a hoof for a pick-me-up.

Cure taps him and fixes him up again. "Keep it at two forty until it's easy. I don't want you losing your balance, got it?"

"Yeah, you bet, Cure. No need bashing into the machine."

Cure looks at the unit. There is a bar there that'll keep somepony from being yanked into the cables, plus the weights would be on the ground way before the pony would get there. Still, getting bodily slammed into the thing would not be a fun time.

"Yeah," Cure agrees, "we definitely don't want that. Get started, I'm going to go around and get everypony else going. Try for two reps."

Cure joins the flyers first. Sgt. Song has fitted herself into a harness that has a four point attachment from her shoulders and rear hips. The straps all lead to a metal clip. The clip is clamped onto a ring attached to a cable going down into a raised surface just a couple hooves above the floor.

There's apparently some pulleys down there ultimately leading to a stack of plates off to the side going from twenty to two hundred kg.

Cure notices three additional surfaces, each a few body lengths away and a meter and a half up that she could clamp onto as well, boxing her in on all but one side, each with a cable dangling loose.

"Huh, neat," he mumbles, looking over the setup. "I'm guessing this prevents your mass reduction aura from hitting the weight and the three others are so you can work your wings in other directions?"

"Yep," Static answers, pointing at the side plates, "using one or more we can build up the muscles and control to pull diagonally or in any direction. Ya just gotta make sure you anchor in and keep your legs clear." Waving Cure back out of the way he calls out, "Give it a go, sarge."

Cure moves back and watches as the bat pony mare spreads her wings and gracefully lifts off the ground. Once she's about a meter up the line pulls tight and she starts pumping her wings much harder. Cure sees four plates, ten kg each, begin lifting off the stack.

There's a yellow line about three meters high on the walls surrounding the raised surface that apparently represents the full rep has been done. Once Song reaches that she slows her wing beats and gradually drops back until the weights clank down, then repeats the process nine more times.

"Jeez, the precision you all have is unreal," he compliments. "What's considered a lot of weight? I don't have any frame of reference for flyers."

"Thanks, Cure," Song starts, "some stallions can get up to eighty kg, but us bats tend to have less power, more precision. Forty kg on this translates to a little under two hundred kg with our aura, not counting our own body weight. We'll tire quickly at that weight though."

"Still… that means you could possibly lift my sire, and he's twice yer size. I bet we can get you over sixty within a couple months. Ready for a refresher?" he asks, holding his hoof out.

Song reaches over and holds on. As he goes to work rejuvenating her muscles she gasps and lets out a pleased sigh. "Oh wow! That felt wonderful!" She flaps her wings a couple times and smiles brightly at the colt. "Feels like I'm just getting started! Thanks, Cure."

"You bet. I have less experience with pegasi wings and you're the first bat pony I've met, so it may take a few more sets for me to really get a feel for what exactly the end result of this should look like. Don't be surprised if your gains aren't as immediately pronounced like the others. We'll get there," he assures them.

"Sounds great to me, son." Static says. "If we can gain ten or twenty kg that'll make one Tartarus of a difference on our turn speed and maneuverability."

"I bet. Take off speed too. Alright, I'll cycle back through in a few minutes," he calls as he starts making his way to Corporal Ricochet. She's working out on what appears to be a modified smith machine.

It's basically the same as a human version, but instead of a bar going horizontally there's two, both connected with padding and adjustable so the weight can rest on the withers and haunches instead of the back where it would cause an injury. There's also a safety bar that can be raised or lowered so that a pony won't get crushed if they bite off more than they can chew.

"How's it going, Rico?"

"Good! I haven't lifted in a couple years, so it's super exciting to get back into it while on the clock. Having somepony like you here to boost us up is just icing on the cake! Is it my turn?"

"Yep, you already did some warmups, I assume?" Cure can detect a hint of sweat on her already, so she obviously had.

"Yep! This is my max right here. Or, it used to be. One fifty kg," she says as she pats one of the bars. Each has a twenty five kg plate on, so the bars must add twenty five each also. Looking down she meets his eyes, holds out a hoof, and gives him a big smile while saying, "Lay it on me, young stallion! Let's do this!"

Smiling at her enthusiasm he takes her hoof and gives her the same treatment as Bolt, then waves her to the machine. "I'll have to go visit the earth ponies next, then I'll cycle back around every five minutes or so. Just do the heaviest you can as many times as you can on each set, then cool down, okay?"

"You bet!" she calls as she gets in position, semi-crawling under the padding before straining to stand while lifting the weights. Cure watches as she does three reps before she barely gets the bar down without collapsing. She still does collapse afterwards, but she's almost giggling while yelling "WOOO!" from the ground.

Cure walks around the side of the machine and puts a hoof on her side. Within a minute her breathing has slowed and she calls out, "That's some good shit right there. Err… oops."

"Ahh, my poor virgin ears! I'm like super traumatized and stuff," Cure flatly faux-yells while smiling at the mare and covering his ears with his hooves. "Just don't let the sarge hear ya. He may get mad about you warping my innocent mind," he finishes with a nod, getting a barked out laugh back.

"Oh, you may also want to run your horn through the alphabet while we're at this. Those are muscles we can work out also," he explains while standing. "I'm be back in a few, it's the earth pony squad's turn."

After making a quick detour to Bolt to get him going on horn exercises, Cure trots over to the three that are moving between four machines. One is a foreleg extension, the other is for hind legs, and the third is a neck lift machine, and the last one is for the neck too, but focuses on sideways motion instead.

Deed had apparently realized on his own that he should only be relying on pure muscle power, as he was doing about three quarters what the larger ponies were doing. Still, the weights were impressive, with the foreleg machine sporting six twenty five kg plates, the rear leg a full dozen, four on the head lift, and three on the sideways lift machine.

"Everypony ready for a boost?"

"That'd be great, sport. I tell ya, the sarge and private here are makin yer pa feel some kinda inadequate," his sire melodramatically laments.

"I'm not so sure that's a fair competition, pa."

"The colt's got that right. My sire would be ashamed if I wasn't able to keep up with a civilian," Rush explains. "Of course it's pretty obvious you've been busy hittin the trail since yer doing as well as you have been." With a smirk she adds, "I bet the wives appreciate that, huh stud?"

"Don't mind the private," Bulwark interrupts, glaring at the innocent face she's making, "yer sire's in great shape, Cure. I can't help but wonder how you'd fare on these. Shame we'll have to wait until you're a little taller to see."

"Aww, I'm gonna blush," Deed quietly mumbles with a coy look.

"Yeah, the only machine I think I can safely use is the press that Rico's on, and only because it goes down almost to the floor. There's also the free weight area I can probably do a few things in, but that can wait."

"Eh, if ya promise to be careful we can spot ya on it and find out before we go. Once everypony gets in a routine you can feel free to sneak a set in between rounds when the opportunity comes up."

"That would be great, sarge. By the way, the flyers are working on wing power and I have both unicorns buzzing away, so we may be able to do everything concurrently."

"Sounds good, just tell anypony that you notice over specializing to change machines, but for the most part they know what they need."

"Sure thing, sarge. Are you three ready for a hoof bump?" he asks, holding his hoof out for them.

The next hour and a half turns into a cycle of Cure trotting between the different ponies as they move from station to station, boosting each one and clearing out any fatigue. He would occasionally stop for a minute of small talk, but with four to seven stations, depending on if they were sharing a machine, he didn't get much down time unless somepony was taking a water or potty break.

Not everypony moved up a full plate on every machine, but every one of them saw noticeable gains, typically doubling the number of reps at a given weight or going up a half plate and getting the same reps.

The earth ponies were the big winners, of course, and Cure took a minute to warn everypony else not to get jealous at their progress. "Just keep in mind that what I'm doing is basically the same thing that an earth pony's innate magic does, so the effect is additive. What I've witnessed before is my talent basically provides their magic with the blueprints and their magic keeps working in that direction, even between workouts."

"Don't be surprised if we come back in two weeks and the sarge and private are slightly stronger than they are even right now, okay?"

Getting a round of nods and agreements, Cure asks if there's time for a quick set on the smith machine or if they need to get out.

"No way," Bolt starts, "I wanna see what the colt can do. I got twenty bits on one fifty, easy."

"One fifty? I started at one fifty. I'll take that, I don't think he'll do over one twenty five," Rico calls back.

"He'll do over that," Rush casually explains. "If he does any less than two hundred I'll be shocked."

"Two hundred?" Static asks, scratching at his chin. "Eh, sure, I'll take that. Twenty bits sound good, Rush?"

"Sure, easy money," the orange earth pony agrees with a nod, then winks at Cure and mouths "Show em!"

Both sergeants decline joining in, and Deed just sits back smirking. "Give it Tartarus, son."

"You bet, pa. Set the height and put two fifty on there. I'm not sure what my max is but I suspect it's around three fifty."

"Ahh damn," he hears from Rico as he watches Bulwark and Rush put two plates on each side of the bars after lowering it.

"Just don't hurt yourself, son," Bulwark says as he steps back. That should be impossible, given the bar is already at its lowest setting with the actual plates barely a hoof off the ground. Cure could lay down and it wouldn't be touching him if he kept his head down.

Cure climbs under the padded surface and calls out, "It’s a little under four times my body weight. I can do one-legged squats easy enough, so this shouldn’t be a problem.” Ensuring he’s properly lined up, it occurs to Cure that even at the low setting he’ll only be able to lift it a short distance. “I'm only tall enough to lift it a little over two hooves, does that count?"

"That's fine, champ, yer all set."

The first inch is definitely the hardest, and Cure can imagine having to use his magic to get the bars off the guard rails at three fifty, but he's able to get it up with a little struggle and does another two reps just to dissuade any arguments that he didn't manage it. Deed, Bolt, Song, and Rush all cheer as he finishes.

"Really, Rico?" Song asks, giving the chestnut unicorn an incredulous look. "We need to talk about your ability to analyze threats, cause the colt could break you in half if he got a hoof on ya. I think you all forget how much stronger earth ponies are than the rest of us."

Backing out of the machine without waving his rear in the air is the hardest part, but he manages to not show everypony his undercarriage too much.

"Whew. Okay I'm a little uncertain about three fifty. Maybe three hundred, but that first half-hoof is brutal."

"How could I possibly have expected an eight year old colt to do that?" Rico protests, waving at the weights.

"Step one is to look at his legs, corporal. They’re as thick as yours and, again, he's an earth pony," Song slowly explains. "Then you consider he just said earth ponies gain strength from his talent even after the fact, and he’s got it runnin all the time" she finishes with an eye roll.

"Oh yeah… he did say that, huh? Whatever, I'll pay up at the station."

The rest of the time is spent re-racking all of the weights, after which the unicorns walk through and hit each machine with a cleaning spell. After Sgt. Bulwark signs the group out, they begin their march back to the train station.

Cantering beside him, Cure calls up, "Hey sarge, would you be interested in scrolls for yer guards to carry? As part of his standard patrol kit I told Solar I expect him to carry at least a shield and a teleport scroll, but honestly I can't come up with a good reason why every guard shouldn't have a basic loadout in case things unexpectedly go to Tartarus."

Bulwark looks at the colt with curiosity. "You are able to make scrolls?"

"Yep. Technically, anypony can make a scroll, but I can make them uncharged, then your unicorns can charge a set for each guard. Or you can keep half charged and keep the other half as backups. The hope is, of course, you'll never use them but they can be recharged safely for three months before they're trash."

"I'm certainly interested. I'll speak with my casters to see what spells they recommend. We have a line item for enchanting supplies that we've never taken advantage of; no scribes or enchanters in the squad, after all. How exactly do you make them?"

"My talent gives me a level of muscle control that is good enough that I can reliably write them. I'm sure Dawn will be happy to help too. There’s spells that let unicorns transfer spells they know onto a scroll. I've been showing her and Solar how to do scrolls and crystals so they'll always have a backup if their horns are disabled."

"Smart."

"Right? Incredibly useful for the hornless too. I can't imagine what kind of terror a quick, silent flyer like Sgt. Song could be with a pack of stunners. I'd suggest spending a little extra to get them Basic Invisibility gems. Early's shop here in town sells the gems for fifteen bits and Dawn can program them."

"The sarge or her bats could get into a flanking position on anypony causing problems and sit there invisible with a stunner ready in case they escalated. Nopony would ever know they're there unless they had to act."

"That may be a tad more aggressive than most of our situations warrant, son," Bulwark points out.

"You'd know better than I, sarge, but if somepony's decided they wanna get obstinate with the guard a Stun spell sounds a lot less aggressive than a hoof to the face as best I can tell. A lot safer for your troops too.”

Bulwark can’t really help but concede the point. The colt may be a little too quick to turn to fighting, but between the choice of a Stun spell and the way he pinned Wind Shear without hurting her, he at least seems to go for the least harmful and most effective method he can think of.

It’ll just be another point in his report to the captain either way. The damned thing just seems to keep getting longer with how busy the foal’s been. Still, it’s been a huge relief that his first RM incident has gone as smoothly as this one has, especially given the class of magic the colt can use.

Thank the stars the only thing Cure seemed to be interested in is helping ponies because it’s certainly making his job a whole lot easier. He’ll never forget the incredulous looks he got from the captain and her lieutenant when he gave his preliminary report at the beginning of the week.

Helping ponies exercise, working at the clinic, and doing cosmetic makeovers. Those are the grand, nefarious plans of the horrible biomanipulating colt. It’s like the morons in command expected some kind of comic book villain or something when they asked what he’s doing with his talent.

And now, to Bulwark’s absolute lack of horror, the foal’s making rather insightful suggestions about how guards could potentially subdue troublemakers without anypony but the culprit getting hurt at all. Stun spells aren’t exactly pain-free, after all.

Instead of some huge threat the colt’s going to end up turning his guards into, possibly, the most physically fit squad anypony’s ever seen short of some special forces units.

If Cure can deliver on the scrolls and crystals like he says he’ll happily hoof over that entire line in his budget. It goes to waste every year anyhow because the damned unicorns in the city want twice the stipulated rate and none of the ones under his command bothered studying enchanting at all. Why bother, after all, if you can just cast the spell? Because obviously everypony has a horn, right?

“I suppose if it came to that point you’re not wrong. Even if we don’t need it in Golden Hills we can test the feasibility here. The ideas may be more useful in the cities. From what I’ve seen there’s some more… energetic ponies out later in the evening downtown than we typically have in these parts.”

“Good point, sarge. They may be better off buying gems in the long run if they burn through scrolls too fast. Once I have a list of spells you’d like in each kit Dawn, Solar, and I will get started. We’ll probably have to make a second set for training purposes too. There’s no sense given ‘em tools without showing them how to use them, after all.”

“True. I’ll have Sgt. Haze get that list to you when you take his squad next Friday. Give it a look and, if there’s anything you need, let the sergeant know. We’ll probably start with a set for our flyers. I can see that being a real force multiplier with their mobility, as you pointed out. There’s already crown approved rates for this, so I’ll have him give you the list so you can make sure it’s worth your time.”

“Sounds good, sarge. When we get back I'd like to have a short chat with each guard. My talent detects a few things that I'm guessing Sgt. Haze's spells skip like cavities, arthritis, and so forth. I normally do that in private but as their CO I'm certainly not going to ask you to wait outside."

"Alright. There's an office by the briefing room we were in that we can use."

"Perfect. Thanks sarge!"

Bulwark did join Cure for the meetings. Cure wasn't sure if he was concerned he'd brainwash them somehow or if it was just standard procedure, but it didn't bother him much either way.

The first meeting was with Rush and, as the sergeant expected of a healthy earth pony, there was barely anything brought up other than some cosmetic dental work that Cure took care of. Rush was thrilled to hear her next dental appointment would go well, but she would still need imaging done to update her records after the colt moved a few teeth to line everything up better.

The next meeting started similarly, with Bolt getting the same dental treatment. It went a bit differently afterwards though.

"So yer teeth are literally perfect, now let's talk about eyesight."

"My eyes are fine, whatta ya mean, colt?"

"They're good, just a smidge short of perfect, really, but if you'd like we can adjust that smidge to the other direction and your eyes will be beyond what's considered perfect for a typical pony if you'd like. My understanding is that it can help a lot with spell accuracy."

"Oh, stars yes! Hit me, colt!" he shouts, holding his hoof out.

"Normally I'd suggest closing your eyes. This won't be a big change though," Cure says, taking the hoof and making the change, then releasing the private.

Bolt blinks a few times then stares at a notice on the wall he can apparently read more easily before giving the colt a hoof bump and a thanks and sending Rico in for the same thing.

Static's meeting ended up being one that Bulwark wished he'd stepped out for.

"Alright corporal, your teeth are perfect but this next part may be a little unpleasant. Let me ask first, do you have foals?"

"Yeah, two, why?"

"Both fillies, right?"

"Yeah…"

"As it stands right now you can only produce fillies."

"What?!"

"I’m going to be blunt here, corporal. I keep the health stuff strictly professional, so everything said in here is between me, you, and the sarge, okay?” Static glances at Bulwark for a second, then looks back to Cure and hesitantly nods. “I'm not sure how or why, but you're only producing X-chromosome sperm. It's fixable but, as of now you could only possibly have fillies, assuming this isn't something new."

"How in the hay did you determine that?" he asks, eyebrows almost disappearing in his mane.

"My talent basically tells me when there's an injury, illness, deformity, or irregularity. To use a poor analogy, when I scan somepony it's like I'm looking at a detailed drawing. A problem is circled in bright red markers in my mind. Trust me, it's not typically a blessing by any stretch of the imagination."

"Ugh… I'm sure not. So what are my options here?"

"The only option I’ve got is to tell my magic to do whatever fix is necessary to correct the problem. One issue, and I’m warnin ya now so you don’t think anything weird is goin on, when I use my magic to fix this you’re gonna feel it, probably, even after I numb you."

"I think I would have to damn near cut off your whole spine for you to not feel it. Let's just say I'm going to stand off to the side for this treatment."

"HAH! Oh stars, that's hilarious. Is it gonna seriously… yanno?" he asks, waving a hoof up and away from himself.

"Dude I dunno, how many times do you think I've used my special talent to kerjigger with a dude's ballsack?" Cure asks, getting a snort from Bulwark and a full belly laugh from Static.

Once he gets himself under control Static can't even look the colt in the face while saying, "I can only assume I'm your first, but given the context I really wish I had another way to ask," causing all three to crack up.

"Oh, wow I hope the sarge has to put a transcript of this conversation in his report," Cure laughs out. "I can imagine him reading in a deadpan to the princess or somethin."

Cure alters his voice to nearly match Bulwark and stoically recites "Cure Wave then requested the corporal estimate the number of times he has used his magic on testicles, Your Highness. Static suggested he was Cure's first, then explained he would treasure the memory, Ma'am."

It takes a few minutes before they all stop laughing at the image, but the bout of comedy helps get rid of the awkwardness of the situation. Cure eventually steps to the side, looks away, and holds a hoof out behind himself to the corporal. Bulwark follows suit, looking away as well.

With a resigned sigh, Static grabs on and says, "Hit me." The experience isn't quite as bad as they'd feared, but the bizarre, foreign feel of somepony else's magic climbing around in his nuts definitely widens his eyes, pops his wings up, and makes him kick a leg back while calling out a quick "Yowza!"

Once the colt is done Static does a full body shudder, takes a second to calm down, then lets them know, "Okay, I'm good now. Damn, son if you were older I have some killer jokes, but you bein eight just makes 'em weird. Am I good ta go now?"

"Yeah dude, yer all set. I think Sgt. Song and the poor sarge here are my last two victims. Can ya send her in?"

"You bet. Thanks, Cure," he calls, walking out the door.

"It's my captain and her lieutenant, by the way," Bulwark explains, getting a questioning look from Cure. "If I have to read it to anypony it'll be them," he finishes as Song walks in and shuts the door.

"Please do it as dryly and deadpan as possible. Also, be sure to include the part where I mimicked your voice. Or better yet, let me come read it and I'll do everypony's voices. That would be freakin hilarious," he suggests with a chuckle. Facing Sgt. Song he asks, "How'd you like my impression of Sgt. Bulwark?"

"Uhh…"

"Oh come on, I know you've been sitting off to the side with those" he waves at her ears "adorable ears pointed this direction the whole time. Did we at least get a chuckle outta ya?" he asks with a smile.

Song looks to Bulwark with a raised brow, getting an unhelpful shrug in return. "I… umm. Yes, I may have laughed a little. Your pitch was slightly off though."

"Ah, well. Can't win 'em all. So, Sgt. Song, aside from the minor dental imperfections I've been addressing, the only issue I think you may have is a slight protein deficiency. My talent drew my attention to your blood; specifically your protein levels. I don't see any kidney or liver issues, so it's probably a dietary issue."

"I'm thinking maybe you're not eating enough meat and that's something you definitely want to address if you're going to get the gains you want from the gym." Pausing he adds, "Well, normally at least. You'll be fine when exercising with me but that's because I'm a big stinkin cheater and I can use fat."

"Meat is a little difficult to come by around here. I'll try to up my intake of nuts and tofu."

"Great! Hey, just say something if this is offensive, but are bat eyes typically light sensitive? I noticed your eyes are a little different from pegasus eyes."

"No, that's not offensive. We struggle during daylight hours; that's probably why a young foal like yourself hasn't met any of us before."

"That sucks. Would a nictitating membrane be something you'd be interested in? It could basically be a set of built-in sunglasses. It would probably make high speed flying without eye protection a lot less unpleasant."

“You can make changes like that?” Bulwark asks.

“You know I’m doing cosmetic work, right? Adding a thin, retractable layer of, basically, skin to the eye is no problem.” Holding up a hoof he says, “Gimme a sec, I’ll show ya,” then closes his eyes. After about thirty seconds, Cure’s finished giving himself a retractable membranous layer like many bird species have.

Opening his eyes wide he faces the pair. “Okay, don’t freak out when I do this. I’ve never tried it myself and it may look weird. I’ll hafta adjust how dark it is,” he says as he closes the membrane. The opacity is turned up a bit too high and the room darkens more than he thinks most ponies would like, so he slowly adjusts it until it feels about right. It's still a bit dark indoors, but should be great outdoors during a bright day. “There we go. How do they look?”

“Kind of creepy, to be honest,” Bulwark says.

“Damn, really? Got a mirror? I may be able to adjust them so they look more normal.”

“In the bathroom.”

“Be right back,” Cure calls, opening the membrane and trotting out of the room. It’s not difficult to find the bathroom, though he’s barely tall enough to stand on his hind legs and see in the mirror. With one membrane closed he looks at his reflection with the other eye and he has to agree; the cloudy look is a definite turn-off. He’d previously told his mom that, while the membrane would be useful, pegasi not having one would make it stand out on them.

Rather than abandoning the idea, Cure decreases the opacity then directs his magic to effectively turn the membranes into polarized lenses while also pushing it to block UV light at the same time. Seeing UV hasn’t really been very helpful so far anyhow, so he figures it’s still a net positive overall.

The result looks, more or less, like his normal eye, just darkened a little from the membrane. It’s lost the dull, gray, milky look the first iteration had, though, and when he turns his head to look at it from different angles he determines that the end result is something he’ll be keeping from now on whether Song wants it or not. After a quick pit stop and hoof-wash he happily trots back to the room where the two sergeants were talking about what all they’ll be including in their report.

The conversation is cut off by Song as soon as she detects his smaller hooves clopping their direction, but he heard enough to know that so far they’re pretty excited about the possibilities he represents.

“Okay! How’s this version look? I think it’s good enough I might just keep it for myself to be honest.”

Song approaches to get a better look and, after a moment of scrutiny, gives an accepting nod. Bulwark didn’t bother approaching, so apparently whatever Song decides is good enough for him.

“How about I give you the membrane and you try it out for a day? If you hate it just swing by my house if you don’t wanna wait until I meet up with ya in a couple weeks, okay?”

“Sure, I’ll give it a shot. How do you open and close it, though?”

“It’s a muscle, it feels just like blinking, sort of, just a different eyelid. I’ll walk you through it. Ready for me to fix up your teeth too?” he asks, holding out a hoof.

She takes his hoof in hers and, after a few seconds, can feel her mouth go numb like he’d told everypony else to expect. The sensation of teeth rearranging, even slightly, is very odd, but with minimal feeling and no pain in the area it isn’t unpleasant and only lasts for a moment. The change in her eye is similar; all feeling just goes away for a second, then comes back with a new addition.

“Okay, so you can feel it, right?” Once she nods he continues, “So this is what it feels like when it closes,” he says, forcing the membrane shut, “then opens” he adds, opening it back again. After a few back-and-forths he lets go of her hoof and has her try. It takes a moment to get it down, but once she does she has to admit, something like this could be a game changer in the bat community.

“Sir, mind if I step outside a second?”

“Of course not, sergeant. Go give ‘em a test flight real fast. The pegasi may benefit from those as well.”

“Yes sir. I’ll be right back,” she calls over her withers as she trots out the room.

“So, while she’s gone do you wanna go over your scan or should we wait?”

“Is there anything you saw that will make me want to close that door?” he asks, motioning to the exit Song left open.

“Nope, if I’d seen anything serious in any of your guards I would have pulled you and them to the side at the gym. You’re getting a little bit of arthritis in your knees, hips, and ankles; nothing you’ll feel for fifteen years or so, but I’m here now, so … ya know?”

“Right, I don’t want to have to chase you down in a couple decades when you’re living in some mansion in Canterlot.”

“HA! I may just be. This way you’ll probably be good until your eighties, at least. Come find me in about forty years and I’ll clear a spot in my schedule for ya, sarge.”

“I appreciate it, son. Go ahead,” he says, holding a hoof out. Cure takes hold and cleans up the sergeant’s joints all over.

It’s only a minute later when Song pokes her head in the door with a big smile. “They worked great, Cure! Would you mind if I sent my bats by your home this evening so you can do them too?”

“Not at all, sergeant. In fact, assuming their spouses or foals are bats as well, have them bring the whole family; same goes for you and yours. I won’t charge for a quality of life thing like that even if it is technically cosmetic work. If they want some kinda markings on their wings that’s a different story, though.”

“Just please let them know about the whole scanning thing before you send ‘em my way. I’d prefer if they knew before they came; full disclosure, ya know?”

“Sure… but markings?”

“Aww you didn’t tell ‘er sarge?” he asks Bulwark, getting a smirk and a shrug back.

“Trust me a little on this, Song. I think I’ll be your new favorite colt. Come here a sec; if you don’t like this I can change it or just put everything back how it is now.”

Hesitantly, she walks fully in the room and stands by the seated pair.

“So, cosmetic changes, right?” he asks, getting a nod back, “Why not wings? You got these big, beautiful wings but they’re all the same, solid color as your mane and tail. I find it kind of interesting that yours is the opposite of pegasi who all have, as far as I can tell, the same color wings as their coats.”

“Yep, that’s normal for us.”

“Huh. Well, just another special thing to differentiate ya, I suppose. So could you do me a favor and open the ladies up? We'll add a splash or two of navy, or something else if you want.”

“Okay…” she hesitantly agrees, opening her wings and sitting down so he can more easily get a look at them.

The spread open bat wings are a sight to see. Even on a cute, fuzzy equine body they still cause a ping in that primal part of Cure’s mind. If it weren’t for decades of association between bat wings and super heroes then he could certainly imagine the silhouette of a bat swooping down towards a pony scaring the bejeezus out of them.

“I have an idea,” he says. “Let’s see if it looks as good in real life as it does in my head,” he says, holding a hoof out. The pattern Cure picks out starts at the middle of her wings with her current wine color with pencil-thin dark silver hexagons outlined, only a centimeter from corner to corner across.

As the pattern flows from the middle of her wings to the areas closer to her back it gradually fades into the navy blue of her coat, continuing the silver hexagons throughout. Towards the front, the outside edge, and the back of the wing the wine color lightens just slightly into more of a magenta color, giving her a slightly lighter hexagon-lined piping along the edges.

A band four hexagons tall, still filled with her coat’s navy color, loops around her chest like a v-neck collar, dipping in the middle and thinning to a single hex wide as it trails down her chest. The pattern is also added between the muscles at the top of her back that power her wings, dipping into a V down her spine with another band going up and disappearing into her mane.

The overall effect is a very techie-looking pattern that Cure’s pretty happy with, and he was able to make the effect temporary thanks to the fine layer of fuzz that coats bat wings.

“Not bad if I do say so myself,” Cure notes. “You’re the one wearin it, though. Thoughts?”

“Woah… that is an interesting pattern.”

“Huh. Looks nice, sergeant,” Bulwark says. “The hexagon thing’s a neat idea, Cure. Where’d you see that done?”

“Other than nature? Nowhere comes to mind. I just thought it would look good in the sarge’s dark colors. You may wanna go look in a mirror, Sgt. Song. I added a kind of a diamond from your wings both up and down your spine a little. Wait, here, look,” he says, turning around and mimicking the pattern on himself and darkening his coat to match hers. “That’s what it looks like, just scaled differently for your body shape compared to mine.”

“It’s very pretty. Thanks, Cure.” Turning to Bulwark she asks, “Did you know he could change colors like that?”

“Yep. He came in last Saturday disguised because a bunch of pegasus mares found out he could do that and were hunting him down. Morons,” he scoffs.

“Yeah, they were a little too excited. I’ve had several stop and ask for an appointment, though, so they’ve been fine since they got that initial stupidity outta their systems.” Shrugging he adds, “I can’t claim total innocence on stupid, hasty decisions myself.”

Focusing back on Song he explains, “All I did was change your hair colors that are there right now, so that’ll only last a few weeks. I could make it permanent, but you’d have to hunt me down if you ever got sick of it, okay?”

“Okay. That’ll give me plenty of time to see if I like it. You said you normally charge for this?”

“You betchya. A temporary pattern like that would be two hundred bits, four if you wanted permanent since I gotta get the follicles and whatnot and it takes a lot more magic. I prefer that ponies bring their own ideas though. Coming up with new designs on the spot will get really difficult soon, I’m sure. I’m afraid I’m just not really that creative normally.”

Addressing both sergeants he says, “If your guards want me to do something like this I’ll throw in one free change and a free change back if they end up not liking it, but I don’t really want to spend each week doing a dozen mane, tail, and coat jobs before we get our lift on. I’ll even give their spouses a half off the first time if they’re interested too. Sound good?”

“Sure, son. I’m sure they’ll appreciate it.”

“Yeah, no problem. If you have some kinda unit standard I can pop that and their rank on their deltoids or something. Whadda ya think, Song, wouldn’t the sarge look like a total hardflank with some black chevrons there on those shoulders? Maybe put that big iron shield from his mark on his left pectoral?”

“HA! That would be pretty neat, sarge.”

Bulwark gives the thought a bit of consideration, but ultimately declines, “I think I’ll pass for now, Cure. I’ll keep the offer in mind, though.”

“Sounds good, sarge. I’m sure you got plenty to get done today, like a certain report on a troublesome colt perhaps, so I’m gonna go collect my pa and get outta yer mane. I’ll look forward to getting that list from Sgt. Haze next week. Speaking of, is it okay if I ask Solar to fill in when my sire’s not available? My parents said they don’t mind him playing escort duty.”

“No, that’s fine. I can only get two civilians on Carol at a time, though, normally.”

“Awesome. Thanks, sir. I’m sure he’ll be excited at the opportunity. Bye Song! Later, sarge!”

“Bye Cure!” she calls back as he trots out the door, pulling it shut behind him. Both sit in silence for a minute; Song playing with her membranes and looking at her wings, Bulwark just sitting in thought.

“That foal scares the shit out of me,” he finally admits.

Blinking a couple times at the random statement, Song gives him a questioning look. “Why? He seems like a sweetheart to me.”

“He is, but look at what all he can do. At age eight, sergeant. Extrapolate that out five or ten years and tell me what you think he’ll be capable of.”

“Well… we know he’s insanely strong for a foal, he’s smarter than most adults I know, he can change colors on a whim…”

“He can simply write out scrolls too. That means that he has very good precision to go with that strength. And he apparently knows at least some magic. I bet with that active ability he has he can charge scrolls and crystals up like a unicorn. He specifically said a long range teleport and a strong shield spell, then added invisibility and stun.”

“That’s more than a lot of unicorns, sir.”

“It is,” he agrees with a nod. “Consider for a moment how dangerous an intelligent pony is that’s my size but twice as strong, knows several spells, can change colors, never gets tired, and of course, can manipulate biology with a touch.”

“That sounds pretty dangerous, sir, but last I checked none of those are crimes. And like I said, the colt’s a sweetheart. He seems to just want everypony to be happy.”

“I’m well aware, sergeant.”

“Yes sir. Is there anything you want us to do for now?”

“No… we can’t exactly spy on him, and we don’t really have a reason to anyhow. I damn sure wouldn’t want him thinking we don’t trust him if he found out somehow. We’ll just do our jobs and hope nopony like Washout provokes the colt again. He called for help last time; I don’t think he would need to if it happens again.”

With the added health check-ups and dental work Cure had done, he and Deed didn’t make it home until nearly an hour later than expected. Vines and Title had everything ready for dinner when the pair walked in the house, so after Deed finished his ritual and Cure re-washed up the family sits down for dinner together.

They’re only a few bites in when Vines asks how everything went.

“Better than I coulda hoped, honestly,” Cure explains. “Everypony was friendly and super eager, especially once I had the unicorn stallion, Private Bolt, do a quick demonstration on the draft pull machine. He matched his max on the first set I had him do after a quick warm-up. I think once they all saw how effective my talent is they were thrilled to be there.”

“Ya got that right, sport. Rush was almost dancin between sets every time you walked away. She has a couple brothers she says she’s lookin forward ta roughin up a bit around Hearth’s Warmin.”

“That’s wonderful, sweetie. Maybe you can do something like that for other ponies once you’re done working with the guard.”

“Or if the volume of cosmetic customers ever settles down. I’m not seeing that, though… You’re booked up for the next three weeks as it is.”

“Yeah, thanks for taking care of that, mom. We’ll have to get an actual accountant at some point to do all the bookkeeping. Is the one you and dad use expensive?”

“Yer damn right she is, son,” Deed laments, careful not to look at his wife. “Charges me a fortune, then eats me outta house ‘n home every evenin! I tell ya, I need ta start shoppin around!” he finishes, getting a scowl from the pink mare.

“Oh… I didn’t know mom did the bookkeeping too. Well I’ll need some help finding somepony if you could. I don’t know how taxes work in this world at all.”

“It’s pretty simple, Cure. You record everything on a ledger and submit a form to the tax office each quarter. There’s a whole wing of one of the floors in town hall just for it. They take your form, do their thing, and give you a bill that you pay when you bring your next quarter’s statements in. You’re always giving the quarter before last’s records and paying the quarter before that’s bill.”

“So… we’re in fourth quarter 908. My records are due at the end of first quarter 909 and I’ll pay my taxes for today's quarter when I take them 909 Quarter 1’s stuff at or before the end of June?”

“Yep. If you’re late they start tacking on fees and whatnot, so always get your form and payment to them a few days early if you can. If you have a business that’s losing money, like maybe you just opened it up, or if your income drops a lot after a few quarters they keep a tally of that and do some math wizardry to credit you back once you start turning a profit. It seems pretty fair to me.”

“Is the tax rate high? Like… what's your guys’ effective rate?”

“For us it’s about eighteen percent. I think you’ll be higher since you’re single, have no foals, and are going to probably make pretty good bits. Of course, being a minor may change things a lot. We probably should make an appointment to see them soon so we don’t get some huge unexpected bill later on.”

“Definitely. I dunno how it is here, but on Earth failing to pay taxes is just about the most likely thing that’ll land someone in hot water. You remember how I talked about the mobsters and mafia guys when I was worried about meeting Grandpa Brick?”

He continues after getting nods, “Hiding their income is what ultimately landed them in jail. Murder, racketeering, all that other crap? They got away with it, mostly. Not paying taxes on their illegal income? That’s what got them arrested. If they’d just put the income on their tax return and paid the taxes they would have been fine, at least for a while. Tax returns are confidential, so they couldn’t even use that against them if they’d paid up.”

“I don’t think you can do that here, honey. Not that you’d ever have a reason to be paid for illegal activities anyhow.”

“Umm… actually, I’m kinda worried how I should be listing the ponies Grandpa is sending out here. I’m inclined to include them in my cosmetic work business and just pay the taxes, even on the 750 bits I’m not seeing yet.”

“That’s not a bad idea, sport. That way if they ask you can play innocent. After all, ya got no reason ta assume everything’s not on the up-and-up anyhow.”

“Huh… you may be using the 250 they are giving you to pay taxes then. Wow, that sucks.”

“Ah fudge… I hadn’t even thought of that. Ugh, taxes suck everywhere. We don’t pay separate city taxes on top of that, do we?”

“No, Cure. It’s all lumped together. I’m guessing that’s how it works on Earth?”

“Yep. Not only for the city you live in, but also the city your job is located in. Then there’s state taxes, federal taxes, sales tax, and sometimes special local taxes depending on school districts and whatnot. Each year the previous year’s stuff is all due on April 15th, so you have a few months to get it all together and figure out how much you owe. Or, if your employer sets aside too much of your paycheck, you normally get that overpayment back.”

“Yep, that sounds way worse. Well we can certainly look for a bookkeeper for you, but I think I can take care of it pretty easily. Your income will be a lot more frequent than ours, but since you only have a few business expenses, like the 300 hundred bits of “rent” you’re paying Lemon, it’ll only take me a few minutes a day. I can just gather the waiver, agreement, receipt, whatever you wanna call them forms you have everypony fill out and add them up on the weekend.”

“True. Maybe you can show me how it all works tomorrow. If it’s that simple there’s no reason I can’t do it myself. I can do the ledger on my Spell Scanner sheet and, if I ever have to reproduce it for an audit, always have it immediately on hoof. Next we’ll need to figure out what to do with the money I’m making; leaving it to just sit in the bank is a terrible idea.”

“What’s wrong with banks, sweetie?”

“Nothing’s wrong with banks. It’s just that the money sits there and does nothing. I’d rather give a few thousand to pa once he takes those classes so we can see if he can make money. I was also thinking maybe mom, dad, and Amy can start identifying undervalued properties in Baltimare that I can buy and fix up, then either rent or resell. You get rich by making money work for you way easier than you can from working to make money.”

“Good thinkin, son. Amy’s talent could make her a fortune. Nothin wrong with wantin ta raise yer foals, but I’ve always thought she could be doin a lot more, at least when they reach school age.”

“As long as you’re not working too much, sweetie. I don’t want you overdoing it.”

“I was thinking this could be more for the three of them than me. I’ll just finance it. We’ll need to find some good, reliable workers to do the renovations and maybe somepony with design talent to make it look nice. It was a good money maker on Earth and I don’t know of anypony doing it here, so the potential definitely exists in theory.”

“It sounds like something we could explore in the spring, honey. That’ll give you time to save up as well.”

“Sounds good, ma. Thanks for havin dinner ready for us, by the way. I ran us a bit late, but I think it’ll be worth it in the long run.”

“Ya were in there a while, champ. Everything go alright?”

“Yep, we should expect some company this evening. We’ll probably have a lot of bats dropping by. Mom, you remember back a few weeks ago when I had talked about adding nictitating membranes to eyes?”

“Ehh… I remember you briefly mentioned the possibility.”

“Bulwark’s night guard lead went with us today. She’s a dark blue batmare named Shadow Song. Dark wine colored mane, tail, and wings. Has a pair of crossed blades of some kind as a mark. Ring any bells?”

“Mmm… I don’t think so, but if I’ve ever seen her out it woulda been dark and she probably would have been in armor… and in the air. I rarely see bat ponies, even at night because they’re dark and hard to spot… and quiet.”

“True. Anyhow, I asked if bats have a hard time with daylight. She said they do, so I gave the whole nictitating membrane thing a shot, have a look,” he says, leaning closer and closing the eyelid.

“Huh… it looked a tad creepy when you closed it, but once ya have it shut you can barely tell it’s there at all.”

“Yep, it helps a lot with glare and whatnot. I kept them closed on the way home and it’s really useful when it’s bright out. Anyhow, I gave a set to the sergeant… uhh, Sgt. Song, I mean… and told her to send any bats that are interested over and I’d do it for free. I see it as a “quality of life” thing more than a cosmetic job. I also gave her a really neat hexagon pattern on her chest, back, and wings, so that ought to be some free advertising for me in the bat community.”

“Neat. Good thinkin, Cure. I’m sure they’ll appreciate havin an easier time goin out during the day. Did you learn anything new when you scanned her?”

“Nah, as best I can tell they got the exact same setup as pegasi. Their ears are as good as I expected though. Not quite at real bat levels, but their eyes are almost as good as a pegasus, so that more than makes up for it. They should be good enough to echolocate though, but our hearing is a lot better if you turn it up. In fact, I heard her snickering when I was making jokes with the pegasus I took care of before her. She’d been listening in on us the whole time.”

Vines wrinkles her snout at the idea of her eavesdropping on a medical conversation. “That seems a little rude…”

“It’s a safety thing, babe. The colt explained it on the way home. Gotta have a command officer outside the room in case somethin happens inside of it, at least that’s the idea we came up with.”

“Yep. They’ll probably ease back once Bulwark turns in his final report on me. He’s putting together some kind of dossier for the captain over the Baltimare region. That’s probably why I haven’t heard from anypony higher up; they’re still in the “initial analysis” phase for now. Once I show I’m trustworthy enough then I’ll probably start hearing from the big-wigs. I’m betting this whole gym thing is a real eye-opener for them.”

“Any idea what goes into stuff like that?”

“I would assume it’s like a psych profile and a threat assessment all at once. They must not consider me dangerous or they’d never let me work on the guards, though. I’m showing them enough to be impressed and, maybe, a little wary, but as long as I stay the friendly, helpful colt then it should only ever help if anything."

"I’m doing what I can to pass their trust test. I'm showing them a lot of my capabilities, but also doing it in a way that makes it clear I'm a staunch ally, which I absolutely am. Ideally, even if they're a little worried at what I can do they'll have no choice but acknowledge that I'm going out of my way to be helpful. That should have some good long-term payoffs if anypony ever gives me a hard time.”

“You haven’t given them any reason not to trust you, sweetie. I’m sure the sergeant’s report will be very positive. I wonder if the other guards around Baltimare would be interested in working with you.”

“Yer dam’s got a good point. I bet once they see Bulwark’s team kickin plot they’ll all come askin fer ya. Maybe you can even offer “Guard Approved" exercises ta other ponies too. I bet a few at that gym we visited would hire ya.”

“Yeah. True. It could be another service I offer through the cosmetic business, but thanks to Drift and pegasi being so mobile I don’t think I’ll be hurting for customers for a long time. I have… what'd you say? The next three weeks booked out?”

“That’s right,” Title agrees. “And that’s as far out as we’re scheduling. I’ve had to argue with a few that insisted they should go in front of others or that you should make extra time to see them, but I keep tellin ‘em you’re only eight and run out of magic, so most back off when they’re reminded.”

“If any get too bossy just make note of their mark and tell them they can go somewhere else. Or, charge them a 10-20% “premium” if you want and consider that your bonus for dealing with them. If I need to hire a scheduling assistant just say the word, mom. I definitely don’t want to stress you out, especially when you’re due soon.”

“Oh, honey, don’t worry about that. A few bossy mares won’t upset me. Trust me, I can deal with them. Now don’t forget, you have two appointments scheduled in a little bit too. I figure we can head to Lemon’s once you’re done eating and maybe pick up some treats while we're there.”

“Sounds good, mom. Thanks for coming with me for it.”

“I don’t think yer ma’s too upset about goin ta see Lemon at the shop, son,” Deed teases, smiling back at the weak scowl from the pink mare.

Cure opts not to poke at his mom, given she's playing escort for him tonight. The family falls into silence for the few minutes it takes to finish their meal.

Title leaves the table to get ready; Cure takes her and his setting to the sink, then gives his dam a loving nuzzle before doing the same to his sire. "Thanks for going with me, pa. I know you don't mind but I appreciate ya giving up some of your weekend for this. Are you going to the bar tonight?"

"Ain't no big thing," he says, wrapping a foreleg around Cure and smushin him in his side. "Sure am, sport. Just gotta shower 'n dry off before headin out. Say hey to Lemon for me and yer dam."

Breaking away as his mom comes back down the stairs, Cure gives a nod and a "Sure thing" before asking if Title is ready to head out.

"Yep. You ready?" she asks.

"You bet. Let's go knock these out quick," he says, nuzzling a cheek into her chest. "It’s not very cold yet, but I'm feeling a little clingy all of a sudden. How ‘bout we grab a box of cocoa mix at Lemon's then me, you, and dam climb under a warm blanket and have some hot chocolate and a bit of quality snuggle time when we get home?"

Title leans down and plants a kiss between his ears. "That sounds wonderful, honey. Vines, babe, we'll be back in an hour or so, okay?"

"Sounds good, dear," Vines agrees. As the pair trot out the door she yells, "I'll have everything ready for when you get back!"

"Damn… that does sound pretty nice," Deed mumbles after they've left. Thinking for a moment, he comes to a decision. "Ya know what? Imma go get some marshmallows and some fresh milk at the store and join ya. The bar'll be there next week. Wanna come, babe? We can wash up together when we get back if we hurry," he finishes, waggling his brows.

Vines eagerly nods, setting aside the dishes to clean later. With a loving kiss, she nuzzles into her stallion's cheek and under his chin, then happily trots out the door, excited for a cozy evening home, snuggled together with everypony that means the world to her.

Chapter 36: Individual Results May Vary

Tuesday, October 28th, 908 AB (4 days later)

With the school day done, Cure follows the other foals out into the cool late afternoon, early evening air. Winter is still setting in, so the temperature is plenty tolerable with the thicker winter coat everypony is putting on.

After waving a quick goodbye to his friends he started turning to head to Lemon’s shop, but didn’t take more than a step before he heard Dawn calling out to him. With a quick glance over his withers he finds her rushing his way, Delta Coast and Rising Pitch trailing right behind her.

“What’s up Sunrise? Followin me to work again?”

“No, Rising and Coast were asking if you wanted to come along for a snack before you went. There’s a really good bakery over by Town Hall and we were headed over there.”

“Umm… I won’t be able to hang out long. I have my first appointment in about half an hour, but I should be able to if you all don’t mind me maybe having to leave pretty soon after we eat.”

“That’s fine, Cure,” Coast assures him, “We may just come to Lemon’s with you when you go. I wouldn’t mind tagging along and seeing what you do, at least.”

“Sure,” Rising agrees, “I got nothin else to do tonight. I told my dam we were going out after school, so I’m in.”

“Cool. Mind if we move quick so I don’t have to run as soon as we’re done eating?” he asks.

“I think we can run a couple blocks, Cure,” Dawn says as she starts moving off at a quick canter. “Come on!”

“How the hay did you two get here so fast?” Coast asks. “We ran straight here from school.”

“Yeah… like, maybe more of a jog than a sprint,” Rising argues. “Still, your school’s in Baltimare, isn’t it?”

Rolling her eyes, Drift simply points a hoof over her back and spreads a wing. “Duh?”

Glacial pokes her in the side with a wingtip and gives her a scowl before turning to the group. “We were let out of class a couple minutes early ‘cause of some teacher conference thing going on. We saw you headed this way and figured we’d see what’s going on.”

“Yeah, what are you four up to anyhow?”

Dawn steps forward to explain, “Us three were going to the bakery over there,” she motions down the street with a hoof, “and asked if Cure wanted to come before his appointments.”

“Yeah, I have two scheduled tonight. The first is in about twenty five minutes, so I need to hurry. If you two wanna tag along that’s fine. Business is booming, so order whatever you all want. Just consider it my thanks for inviting me.”

With the offer of free food the two pegasi eagerly follow along. “So,” he asks, “is the school you two go to in the cloud district or do you go to a ground level school?”

“We go to the cloud one,” Glacial explains, “that way we can take stuff just for pegasi.”

“Flying, weather, stuff like that?” he asks to clarify.

“Yep,” Drift answers, “they also give the older students lessons on the jobs we’re best at like couriers and some of the military jobs. It’s way better than your schools,” she adds, snout in the air.

“It sounds like it is,” Cure agrees. “Shame they don’t have schools for earth ponies and unicorns like that.”

“They have magic universities for us,” Dawn says, pulling the bakery door open with her levitation.

“True, but it sounds like they do that for all pegasi at a regular school,” Coast points out. “You have to apply and get admitted to those, don’t you?”

“Yeah… that is a good point,” Dawn agrees. “I wonder why they don’t have schools specifically for us to learn magic earlier.”

Conversation pauses so the group can order. Cure gets a big caramel brownie and a glass of milk. Once everypony’s order is ready they all settle into a bench. Dawn sits on one end with Cure and Drift to her left. Glacial sits across from Drift with Rising and then Coast on hers.

After the first blissful bite of his brownie, Cure takes a sip of his milk. “So, Drift, anything new with your sister? She hasn’t been coming around at all aside from our runs.”

“She’s got a coltfriend,” Glacial answers, “so she’s with him all the time. I think he’s only paying attention to her because she got her mark.”

“Why would that matter?” With a hoof waving in Cure’s direction Rising asks “Is she starting to work like he is?”

“No, she’s going to keep going to school,” Drift explains. “Dam says it’s a maturity thing. Only a few other fillies in her class have their marks, so her having it makes her seem more like a mare than a filly.”

That rings a bell with Cure. “My parents said something like that too,” he tells them. “They said that even though I’m still only eight, adults will be more likely to trust me with more responsibility.” With a shrug he adds, “If you consider how much trust is required to let somepony who can do what I can touch you then I have to say she’s right.”

Dawn knows full well what Cure can do, but the other four all give him questioning looks. He motions to Coast, then Drift and explains, “I just changed your colors a bit in your mane and tail and your feathers. Dawn trusted me with her eyes,” he brushes her with a shoulder, “and you all know me. Think about somepony just walkin in that doesn’t and is hoofing over hundreds of bits.”

“Hundreds of bits?” Drift asks with an arched brow.

“I charge four hundred for a feather style like yours,” he explains, causing her to cough and choke on her muffin.

“Why so much?” Coast asks, “It only took you a few seconds.”

“Because I went down all the way to her follicles. She’ll never need it done again the rest of her life. Or, she wouldn’t if she was fully grown… I may need to touch it up as she gets older and grows some. Also, there’s unicorns that do temporary styling kind of like that. What do you think would happen if I charged half as much for a better result?”

Rising and Glacial answer at the same time. “You would get all their business.” “Everypony would swarm you again.”

With a nod to both he agrees, “Yep, and I don’t have the time or the magic, nor do I want to drive anypony out of business by stealing all their customers. I have one tonight that, based on what Lemon told me, may be something nopony else can do. I expect it to be a pretty big deal, but I’ll probably be with the mare for like… half an hour because of all the magic it’s gonna take outta me.”

All five look on curiously as he eats his brownie with a smug smile. After a few bites with no clarification Dawn pokes him with a hoof and demands an explanation.

“Nope. Not gonna tell ya. If you wanna know you’ll hafta come to Lemon’s and see. I could be wrong about what she wants, but I don’t think I am. You can’t be there for the treatment this time, but you’ll be able to tell the difference for sure if you watch the mare coming and going.”

“We can do our homework on a table and have some treats while we wait,” Rising offers. Curiosity getting the better of them, the rest quickly agree. The promise of more free sweets at Lemon’s shop certainly doesn’t dissuade them.

Before leaving for his appointment Cure orders two slices of lemon meringue pie to go.

The six foals all trot in the store just as Lemon finishes with her customer. Looking over the group she spots the paper bag on Cure’s back. “What’s that in the bag, Cure?”

Trotting through the employee door, he looks at her with a big smile, “Hey Lemon, I got a treat for you for once. Me ‘n the fillies went to a bakery for a quick snack and, before I left, I asked for the two of the loveliest desserts they had.” He sits on his haunches, grabs the bag, reaches in, and passes one of the carry-out boxes to the mare with a fork. “One’s for mom when she gets here,” he explains.

She opens the box and starts giggling when she sees what’s inside. “HA! You’re even worse than your sire, colt. Lemon meringue… my favorite. How’d ya guess?”

“Dunno, musta been a flash of insight. If the girls want anything just have ‘em put it on my tab. I think that first one you scheduled is gonna be big, so I’ll make sure mom pays ya back when I’m done.”

Rolling her eyes she waves the issue away saying, “Son, I told ya your money’s no good here. Tell ‘em they can get whatever they want, it’s on the house.”

“Well they can’t come upstairs for the first appointment, so they’ll probably pick out a few things and do their homework outside. I’ll be upstairs putting up lights and stuff, okay?”

“Alright, Cure, I’ll send your mom up when she gets here. Thanks for the pie, honey,” she yells as he turns to run up the stairs.

Quickly pulling his horn cube out of his bag, he reshapes it and slaps it on, then puts all the lights in place and tidies up the room. Once ready he puts the horn away and waits for his mom to show up, forcing his body to up magic production as much as possible while he waits. With how small his capacity is it only takes him about half an hour to fully recharge, so he’s topped well before Title shows up.

“Hey ma,” he says, walking over to give her a nuzzle, “I brought a treat for you, but you may want to wait until we’re done,” he explains, motioning to the paper bag off to the side.

“Hey Cure, baby. This is Mrs. Violet Jewel,” she says, turning to introduce the unicorn mare behind her. Violet is the oldest client Cure’s had for his business so far, and the inquiry she made with Lemon got his attention. Her colors were, when she was younger, a near match for Starlight Glimmer, though she lacks the light blue stripe in the future redeemed villain’s mane and tail.

Cure estimates the unicorn is in her early seventies with clearly visible signs of aging showing all over. She’s not quite at Granny Smith levels, but she probably will be in another decade if she gets there. Her coat has streaks of white and gray hairs on her face, shoulders, and trailing down her chest and back. Her mane is as much white as it is the darker purple color. Her back has started drooping some and there is loose skin on her face, neck, and legs.

As Title steps to the side, Cure approaches the elderly mare and greets her like all his other female customers with an extended hoof. “Good afternoon, Mrs. Jewel. Lemon said you came in with a special request,” he says. Seeing her serious demeanor, he gives her a professional hoof bump instead of the normal flirtatious kiss. “She didn’t have the full details, so I’m curious what all you’re interested in having done today.”

“Son, I don’t know if I got five years or twenty years left in me, but when I saw some of the work you’ve already done on them pegasi I could only come to one conclusion, especially when I found out the colors went clear down to the follicles. I retired from Celestia’s School for Gifted Unicorns before I moved to the coast, so I know the work of a biomanipulator when I see it.

I told that candy mare I wanted a full makeover and, quite frankly, I don’t particularly care how much you’re askin. I want to be able to enjoy what time I’ve got left, not wince every time I stand up. You tell me a price and do what you can to at least make me feel younger again and you can have whatever you want.”

Though this would have sent him in a panic a month ago, there’s not really any reason to deny the accusation now. Plus, she still came to him knowing full well what he’s capable of. At least, in theory. After a moment’s pause he responds, “Uhh… well, I’m certainly not tryin to rip anypony off, ma’am.” Glancing at Title he asks, “Mom? Any ideas?”

“Not really. I mean… if you added up all the things you did, ‘cause it seems like you’re going to basically do them all, then that’s normally like three grand, but-”

“Deal,” the mare immediately cuts in. “Stars, son, if you can help with the arthritis alone I’d pay you that easily.”

“I dunno… that sounds more like a healing thing to me,” he explains, wrinkling his snout. “I don’t typically charge for that.”

The mare reaches in her bag and pulls out three one thousand bit coins and levitates them over to Title. “I got enough in the bank. My money will outlast me, son. Don’t worry about all that, just do your thing.”

“Well, okay, I guess. We just need to fill the paperwork out.” Motioning to a mat he adds, “Why don’t you come over here and get comfortable. We’re going to be here for a minute. Now you realize I can’t actually make anypony younger, right?”

The work on Violet not only fully drained Cure, but over the next forty minutes he dumped another full charge plus a third into the mare too. Finally, Title snuck close enough to lay a hoof on his haunch to help out. The once-elderly mare is still technically as old as she was, but nopony would think she’s any older than her late twenties to early thirties by looking at her.

No longer did she have sagging skin, wrinkles, or the osteoporosis, arthritis, bladder, liver, and kidney problems, or, Cure expects but didn’t verify, the chronic constipation that she mentioned while he was healing her.

The actual tightening of skin and re-coloring of her coat only took a fraction of one charge; the remainder of the magic he poured into her was with the simple “fix everything” command he uses when he doesn’t know where to start.

“Now remember, ma’am-” he starts.

Walking around it while looking at the Illusion of her as-is, she interrupts before he can finish. “Right, I know,” she answers in a now-youthful voice, “this is the first time you’ve tried this, the arthritis could come back, etcetera, etcetera. I don’t mind. I’ll just have to come see you again when that happens.”

She turns to face him, then lays on her barrel before wrapping a foreleg around him and pulling him against her chest in a tight hug. “I can’t thank you enough, son. I haven’t felt this good in forty years.” With a quick kiss between the ears she lets him go, stands up, and starts walking to the stairs. “I’ll be in touch. Take care, Cure, miss,” she nods to the pair as she disappears down the stairs.

After a minute to ensure she is gone Cure looks at his mom. “How much magic did you give me?”

“Like… half-ish?” she answers.

Wincing at the implications he explains, “I… uhh. I’m not sure if that was purely cosmetic.”

“What?”

“Yeah… I think we may have actually made her younger. Not, like… mid-twenties younger, but I’m pretty sure I dumped enough healing magic in her that we may have actually de-aged her a few decades at least.”

Eyes-wide Title hisses out, “Cure… you can’t go around doing that!”

“I know!” he shouts. Thinking for a moment he suggests, “For now, we’ll just list de-aging as an option and I’ll limit it to only the arthritis, coat, skin, and vision. I should be able to do all that on a full charge.”

“Why offer it at all?”

“So that if she sends anypony our way we have something to offer. It’ll deflect attention away from her, too… ‘cause you know she’s going to definitely send somepony when her friends ask why she looks a third her age.”

“True… how much should we charge?”

With a shrug he looks at her and says, “You tell me. I guess maybe… half?”

“Fifteen hundred bits? I guess that’s worth it. I could see older ponies goin for that.”

“Yeah. I would assume most would have the money in the bank to afford it, so that seems fair. Plus, like you said initially, that’s less than the sum of doing everything separately would be.”

“Yeah, that’s true,” Title pauses as she hears the sounds of several hooves coming up the stairs. The pair turn just in time for Drift and Glacial to shoot past everypony and land in the middle of the room, then the other three to arrive at the top.

“Cure, what the f…” Drift pauses to glance at Title before continuing, “freaking heck did you do to that mare? Was that even the same one?”

“She had the same cutie mark,” Glacial points out, “and her colors were the same… just, you know, a lot brighter. Did you make her younger?!” she asks, almost yelling.

“I made her look younger, but no. She’s still just as old as she was.” Which is technically true, even if she may have the body of a thirty year old. “She told Lemon she wanted a comprehensive makeover. Well,” he shrugs, “she got one. We’re going to add that to the list of services I offer from now on.”

“How much did you charge her?” Rising asks.

“What we talked about doing,” he explains, “is making that makeover a comprehensive package that’s a bit less than what I would normally charge to do everything separately. It’ll be fifteen hundred bits from now on. She gave me a little more because she was pretty happy with the results.”

“More than fifteen hundred freakin bits?” Drift asks, eyebrows almost going up into her mane.

“Do you know anypony else that can do that?” he asks, waving at the stairs. “Would your great grandparents not pay that to look a third their age? It’s supply and demand, Drift. Like I said earlier, I can’t charge like three hundred bits for that or I would get swarmed. I’m not sure if fifteen hundred is even low enough. I may have to increase the price at some point if it isn’t.”

“Cure…” Coast hesitantly says, “just how much are you making doing this?”

“A lot. I have a price list downstairs in the appointment book that Lemon keeps for me. It’s not like it’s a secret what I charge or anything. I mean, how could it be? Ponies have to know about how much I’m going to charge for what they ask, though a few have added things on and paid with a check instead ‘cause they didn’t bring enough.”

“Cure,” Title calls, “your other appointment should be here any minute. Are you recovered enough to do it?”

“Yeah, that’s just a quick style job. It should be no problem.” Turning back to his friends he says, “So, how about once I’m done we go find something to do? Why don’t you all go downstairs and figure it out and I’ll be down in a minute.”

Chapter 37: Tricks and Treats

Something has gone wrong. We don't seem to have an archived copy of that chapter.

Chapter 38: Executive Decision

Saturday, November 8th, 908 AB (8 days later)

The morning started normally enough. Cure woke up, this time finding himself pressed against his dam’s chest. Laying there languidly for a half hour, he enjoyed the gentle friction of her coat against his whenever she took a breath. Once everypony finally woke up and took care of their immediate needs they gathered at the table for breakfast.

After Nightmare Night Emerald had reached out to Gale, who in turn apparently spoke with some of the other directors for the Baltimare Regional Health Authority. They’d gotten word back and asked to meet with the family at the clinic today. Apparently the news that Cure could potentially heal debilitating injuries had quite the impact and they were eager to meet to discuss the possibility.

Surprisingly, the family still hasn’t heard back from Grandpa Brick. One would think that Cure’s messages would be prioritized given his value as an asset, let alone being family, but maybe the fault lies in the mail system instead of somepony on grandpa’s side.

“Ya sure about this sport? Yer dam and I are a bit worried ya may be takin too much on here.”

“Yeah, dad. You know this has really been eating at me. I can feel it in here,” he explains, tapping at his chest. “This is what I’m really supposed to be doing with my talent. The bits from the cosmetic crap are nice and there is some sort-of-healing there, but that’s just income that lets me do what I really should be doing with my life.”

“I don’t see why you’re not accepting a wage, Cure,” Title says. “Doctors, nurses, EMTs, researchers… they all get paid to work. Many of them have talents related to taking care of ponies too, so you can’t make the ‘it’s my cutie mark’ argument either.”

“I realize that, mom, and if I ever stop doing the cosmetic stuff and legitimately need income then I’ll agree wholeheartedly. I… I think it may actually be some kind of calling for me, though. Like… this is what I’m supposed to do.”

Worry etched across her face, Vines hesitantly asks, “Honey, is this the whole alicorn thing we discussed a while back? Do… Do you think something like that is happening here?”

With all three parents holding their breath and watching intently, Cure shakes his head no. “I doubt it. I think that’s like… a whole ‘nother level from what this is. I think that takes something big and way over the top. This is probably some kind of mark compulsion thing, but even if that’s the case I’m not mad about it or anything.

Think about it like this. A lot of ponies are following their marks. Lemon runs a candy store,” he points out, then waves a hoof at each parent, “you two work in real estate, you grow food in a garden. Those are all ‘following your destiny’ to some degree. That’s not going to make ya pop a horn and wings out your head and back.”

“A fair point, son. I guess if it was that simple half’a the ponies out there would be alicorns too.”

“Cure, babe,” Title starts, “if it was a compulsion wouldn’t the fact that it is mean it would also be compelling you to accept it.”

“I mean… I guess, maybe?” he answers, scratching at his chin with a hoof. “I guess that’s a good reason to have this discussion, though. Look at it this way,” he explains, “I’m making four to eight thousand bits a week. Do I really need to ask for another fifty bits, or even five hundred if they offered, to do something objectively good?”

“No, sweetie. You’re not wrong. Your mom’s point isn’t wrong either, but that’s not what we’re mostly concerned about. We’re worried that once you start doing this you’re not going to be able to have a normal life.”

“Yeah, champ. Yer gonna have ponies buggin ya all the time ta fix every lil thing wrong. Yer gonna hafta change yer colors just ta go outside before too long.”

“Not if they can help me keep my anonymity. That’s what we’re meeting about today. That has to be a condition of this unless they want to wait a few more years. Either they can keep my name and description private or they have to wait until I’m an adult. Does that seem fair?”

Mulling it over for a moment the three trade looks and, while sighing in defeat, hesitantly nod.

“As long as they can shift the attention somewhere else I think we can accept it,” Title says, voicing the collective agreement. “I am a little worried that ponies will assume it’s you because of your cosmetic business, though. The two are, kinda-sorta, related after all.”

“Yeah, Mr. Haze said the same thing. I think that’s less likely to happen than we expect, though. After all, there’s unicorns right now that can do some of that cosmetic stuff. As far as I know none of them can heal disabilities though. Hopefully ponies will just make the same assumption and not link me to the healing. We’ll just have to see what Gale suggests.”

Consensus reached, the four finish breakfast and, after getting cleaned up and ready for the day, head out towards their meeting.

Approaching the clinic with his parents, Cure sees Gale standing outside waiting just like she had when he and his dam came for his first shift. Once again, the light gray pegasus perks up and waves enthusiastically when she sees the group getting close.

His sire, mom, and he could all tell she’d spotted them far earlier with her pegasus eyes, but she’s obviously well practiced in judging when other ponies are close enough to see her with their, normally, inferior visual acuity.

Fortunately the family had plenty of discussions before about not disclosing their real capabilities when he upgraded their senses of smell and hearing a couple weeks prior, so by now they were subtle enough to not draw undue attention by reacting to sights, smells, or sounds that were undetectable by normal ponies.

The ability to decrease their sensitivity to normal pony levels made it quite a bit easier to determine the difference. It also made enduring the unfortunate unpleasant experiences a lot easier, since they were an unavoidable part of life. Nopony wants their sense of smell or hearing turned up to eleven when somepony’s had too much fiber lately, after all.

“Good morning, everypony! It’s nice to see you all again! Come on in, we have the meeting room all ready for you,” Gale enthusiastically calls out, waving a wing to the entrance and leading the group in. There’s a couple ponies in the lobby; a dam with a sniffling, coughing foal and a stallion that’s looking a little more green than a pony with a yellow coat should.

When the parents and the stallion look up at the four new arrivals being ushered past the lobby, River simply explains, “They’re not here to be treated, don’t worry. They’re here for a totally separate meeting,” getting understanding nods from the waiting patients.

Gale thanks her with a quick smile and leads the group to the same meeting room they’d originally met her in just over a month prior. Already seated in the room are two mares, both unicorns. Upon seeing the one unicorn, Cure has a pretty good idea how this meeting is going to go.

Gale takes a seat on the pair’s left side while Cure hops on the raised chair on the opposite side of the table with his dam on his left, sire on his right, and Title to the right of him.

The unicorn farthest on Cure’s left, across the table from Vines, has a dark green coat, a shade or two darker than his dam; more of a forest green than her brighter emerald color. Her mane is a dark brown color, just a little lighter than Deed’s coat.

The unicorn sat in the middle, somewhat across from Cure and Deed, is bigger than a unicorn mare should be. Just slightly smaller than Vines and Title, Cure’s certain the muscular, light brown mare is here to see if he can, in fact, fix a horn that isn’t working properly. Green must be the color of the day, as her mane color is nearly an exact match for Cure’s.

Both mares look to be in the mid to late forties, maybe early fifties.

“Okay! Good morning, again, everypony!” Gale starts. “First off, introductions! Here with me is our Chief Physician, Doctor Mending Care,” she says, looking down the table and getting a stoic nod from the green coated mare, “and our Assistant Director of Creature Resources, Mrs. Perfect Hire.”

Perfect Hire offers a warm smile and a quick “Good morning” before Gale continues, introducing the family to the two and re-introducing herself to everypony since she had only met the parents one time each.

After the round of introductions and greetings are exchanged it’s the doctor that takes over the conversation. “As I understand,” she begins, “young Mr. Cure Wave,” she glances in his direction, “believes he may be able to assist ponies who are either born with or have suffered a debilitating condition.

“Obviously we were eager to follow-up on a report like that and, given the initial reviews of his performance, few as they are, we thought it appropriate to schedule a meeting sooner rather than later. First off, I think it may be appropriate to have a candid discussion about the capabilities of Cure’s talent. I believe there was mention of some cosmetic services you’ve been offering?”

“Yes, ma’am. The cosmetic work I’m doing ranges from simple color alterations of the mane, tail, wings, or a pony’s coat to more significant changes like skin smoothing, fat redistribution, dental work, vision correction, and, as part of a comprehensive package, the elimination of some effects of aging such as arthritis, hair loss or thinning, muscle and bone weakness, and any other issue I detect when scanning a new patient.”

The doctor manages her reaction fairly well; the only signs of surprise are her eyebrows slowly climbing up towards her maneline and ears turned fully forward. Mrs. Hire is a little easier to read, though, with huge wide eyes and her mouth hanging slightly open. Gale, typically excitable under normal conditions, has all the classic wide-eyed shock signs, plus her wings are sticking nearly straight up.

Ignoring their reactions for the moment, Cure continues, “My only major limitation is the fact that I’m only eight years old and, prior to getting my cutie mark, never actively used magic before. For some procedures, like the comprehensive one, I simply do not have enough magic to do everything at once.

“Horns aren’t very large though… typically a little under twenty centimeters long and three to five centimeters in diameter, so I should have plenty of magic to fix those. Wings, I’m not sure… they’re physically large, but don’t have a lot of mass. If I just healed the structures and let the feathers grow in I should be able to fix one over a visit or two as long as the pony has enough extra mass for it.

“Of course, my main concern is protecting my identity. I’m worried how many ponies will show up at my house begging for me to heal them or approaching me while I’m on my way to school or at another job. I don’t know if you heard, but I had about thirty pegasi show up at my house about three weeks back when I first started doing the cosmetic thing.”

“I did!” Gale shouts, drawing everypony’s attention. “Everypony was talking about some filly that had her feathers done up like a bird or a griffon! That was you?!”

“Hear that sport? Yer famous!” Deed cheers, poking Cure with a hoof.

“Oof, I hope not,” he says to his sire before turning back to Gale. “Yeah, probably. I went to a sleepover on the night of the Running of the Leaves. The next morning we were hanging out and I mentioned doing cosmetic things. She asked for an example so I copied the design that bluebirds have, just in her colors. Was that what you heard?”

“Yep! Wow, I can’t believe I didn’t realize that was your work. I guess I should have; that was the same day you started working here, right?”

“Sure was. You’ve probably seen some bat ponies too. I’ve been giving them nictitating membranes to help see better during the day and a few have made appointments to get wing designs done too.”

“Oh wow! Yeah… you’ve been busy, haven’t you, Cure?” she asks with a big smile. Cure can’t help but smile back at the adorable mare. She doesn’t seem to be consciously aware, but she’s slowly flapping her wings in excitement. It’s not enough for her to get off the ground, but she’s easily the most expressive pegasus Cure’s encountered so far.

“Yes ma’am. That’s why I sent that note to change my pay status. I’ve been making enough bits from that stuff that I don’t need money for healing. I’d rather just volunteer my time for that.”

“That is so kind of you!” Turning to Mrs. Hire she claps her hooves and shouts, “Don’t you just wanna squeeze the daylights outta him?!”

Thankfully, the older mare is too busy giggling at Gale’s reactions to hop over the table. Clearing her throat, Dr. Care gets everypony’s attention. “I believe we may have gotten slightly off topic,” she says, giving Gale an exasperated look and getting a pout in return.

With a sigh she turns back to Cure. “It sounds to me like, at least in theory, you may be capable of helping patients. Obviously there’s a process with new medical treatments, though. The problem is that the process isn’t designed with cutie mark related special talents in mind. Fortunately, there is an alternative option available.”

At the round of questioning looks she continues, “Essentially, we can seek out volunteers for the procedure. With the proper oversight from a qualified surgeon and all of the typical medical waivers in place we could begin testing-”

“Oh enough of this crap, Mending. I’ll write out a waiver and we’ll do it right now,” Hire blurts out with a glare. Turning to face the family, all of whom are somewhat in shock, she explains, “I’ve had this useless horn on my head my entire life. I can barely lift anything and I’ll never be able to cast a spell.

“I started working in the medical field specifically in the hopes that some day somepony like this young stallion would come along with a miracle.” Tearing up, she finishes, “If it doesn’t work then I’m no worse off, but if it does… son, I …” pausing, the mare begins crying. Reaching into her bag while Gale wraps her in a hug from behind, she pulls out a pack of tissues, wipes her face, and blows her nose.

Even the doctor, who has been almost robotic to this point, looks on with sympathy for the mare. With a nod, she reaches in her bag and pulls out a form, sliding it to Hire with a quill and ink bottle. “I figured when you insisted on coming. Fortunately, I came prepared.” Turning back to the family she shrugs and adds, “If you’re willing to try, Cure…”

“Sure. Dad, can you pass me the crystal?”

Deed already has the crystal in hoof and is holding it out. “Right here, champ. I figured that’s what was comin next.”

“Thanks, pa. Mrs. Hire?” he calls, getting her attention, “My special talent has a diagnostic part to it, of course, do you understand?”

The mare nods, still wiping tears from her eyes and, uncaring for decorum, Cure hops up on the table and sits in front of her on his haunches. She latches on as soon as he holds out his hoof. Cure raises a questioning eyebrow to the doctor who is, he assumes, casting some kind of diagnostic spell to monitor what he’s doing. Once she nods he begins his scan.

Diving into his mark the problem is easily identified. Not only are the muscles in her horn deformed, but several are outright missing. The nervous system is in similar disarray to the point where Cure’s amazed the horn works at all. Struggling to maintain his composure in the face of the crying mare, he lets go of her hoof.

The vast majority of her mitochondria are the unicorn type, so Cure doesn’t do anything to alter that. If she’s gotten by this long without a stronger TK field then that will likely be noticed if he alters it.

He projects two images; one is a typical horn, specifically Violet Jewel’s, then Perfect Hire’s beside it. In order to show the difference between a functional horn and hers he has the illusion fade the keratin outer structure away to display a cross-section diagram of the muscles and nerves, varying opacity on the outer layers at different points and highlighting sections that should correspond to each other.

With an impressed nod from Dr. Care he slides the crystal back to his sire and turns to Perfect Hire.

“There’s only one way to fix your horn, Mrs. Hire,” he says, getting a pleading look in return. Sat on his haunches, he gives her the pouty pony eyes and holds his forelegs out wide. A barked out laugh escapes the older mare who happily wraps him in a hug. “That’s the ticket, ma’am. Just a moment now,” he softly says, holding the mare tight and snuggling into her shoulder.

Diving back into his mark, Cure works much more slowly than normal with the assumption that Dr. Care is watching what he’s doing. The fix, which would normally only take about a minute, drags out over a five minute long hug, during which Cure slowly fixes what’s there while using excess fat stores to build the muscle and nerves that are missing.

Unwilling to show that he can alter or improve a horn beyond typical, Cure uses the scans from Violet as a blueprint to give Hire a normal, but fully functional horn.

Smiling into her shoulder he gives her one last squeeze, tells her it’s done, and releases the mare from the hug. “I think that was a pretty good hug, Mrs. Hire. Now lemme get outta your way so you can test that lil lady out, okay?” he asks, walking back across the table to take his seat.

As soon as he’s sitting again, Vines scoots behind him and wraps him in a hug, planting a big kiss right between his ears. Cure’s not sure which is warmer; the proud hug from his dam or the joyful heat he can feel in his chest.

Looking to Dr. Care for guidance, Hire raises a questioning brow. “Is it okay? Is it fixed?” she asks, barely holding back tears.

Dr. Care cuts power to her horn and, with a slow nod, explains, “As best I can tell, yes. He just… Well, he basically just rebuilt your whole horn, at least on the inside. I can’t think of any reason why it wouldn’t work fine. Maybe we should try outside, though, just to be safe.”

“The back door is right outside and to the left. We could go test it right now,” Gale offers.

“It’ll work fine,” Cure insists. Tossing his saddle bags onto the table he waves at them saying, “Here, just lift my bags. Just start slow, please, I don’t know when the rodeo will be back to get another set.”

Getting a go-ahead wave from Dr. Care, Hire lights up her horn, choking back a sob when her aura surrounds Cure’s bag and easily lifts them in the air. Quickly setting the bag back down, she turns and latches onto Gale; the two holding each other and crying tears of happiness together.

Dr. Care reaches over and, with a relieved smile, gently pets Hire’s withers. “I do believe that was an adequate demonstration, Cure. Well done.”

“Thanks, ma’am. There was a lot to fix, unfortunately. Mrs. Hire, you may wanna eat a little extra at lunch if you feel hungrier than normal today. I did use a little fat to do all that.”

“Maybe we should take a moment to refresh ourselves?” Dr. Care suggests.

Gale, still wrapped up by the older unicorn, poofs her wings out while shouting “Oh! I came prepared!” Giving Hire a couple taps, she finally wiggles free, then shoots out the room.

Hire takes a moment to wipe her face, pulling several more tissues out of her bag while thanking Cure profusely.

Fortunately, Gale shoots back in the room only a few seconds later, standing on her rear legs and proudly holding up a two liter jug of apple juice and, somewhat to Cure’s dismay, a big box of donuts.

After scrounging up some cups and having a second breakfast, the seven ponies are fed, watered (juiced), and ready to resume their discussion.

“So, like I said, my main concern is my privacy,” Cure explains while waving a hoof back and forth. “I don’t need credit, I don’t need recognition, I don’t even need the bits if my cosmetic business continues to succeed. I just need to know that I can have some degree of a normal life when I’m not at work, ya know?”

“That’s completely reasonable, Cure,” Dr. Care says. “Given your talent, I can certainly understand why you’d be concerned about being approached outside of work.”

“Definitely,” Hire agrees, “I don’t know if I could have held myself back from showing up at your house if I’d known weeks ago you could do that. I can’t even imagine if my son or one of my daughters had been born with the same condition.”

“What if he just changes his colors when you have somepony that needs him?” Title suggests.

“That may work… also, he could wear an assistant’s gown, even though there will be no invasive operation going on,” Dr. Care points out.

“I could also wear a fake horn or fake wings. I made a very convincing set of wings out of branches and leaves for my fillyfriend on Nightmare Night. She’s a unicorn, so… ya know… princess of fire.”

“Oh! I heard about little Dawn’s outfit!” Gale gushes, “Stars I would have loved to have seen it!”

With a shrug, Cure changes his coat to match the colors and adds the bioluminescence, though he doesn’t change anything else. “It looked like this but with wings and a horn,” he explains, lighting up and bathing the room in red, orange, and yellow. His parents had, of course, seen the wings when he was growing them, but the three mares are left temporarily speechless at the display.

“Wow. That’s… quite the costume,” Gale notes, watching in fascination as Cure goes back to his normal appearance. “I noticed your cutie mark was still present… you can’t change that?”

“No. As far as I can tell that can’t be changed. It can be covered, but not by a part of me or it comes through.”

“Well,” Dr. Care starts, “that would be covered by the surgical gown anyhow. I doubt anypony would be able to recognize a foal’s voice. With all the cleaners in the room and the gown in the way they shouldn’t get your scent either, so even if you walked past them on the street they wouldn’t recognize you. I think adding a horn or wings to the disguise would be fine until you grow up at least.”

“Eh, when I’m older, hiding won’t be quite as important then. I’m just worried about ponies going nuts now while I’m still trying to have some semblance of a foalhood.”

“True. I believe we can facilitate that, then. I, or another doctor, will be listed as the primary surgeon. We’ll have ponies sign a waiver acknowledging that they are participating in a medical treatment evaluation, just as we normally would. That will release you from liability. The only ponies that will know your name will be the surgeon and, of course, the board of directors. Anypony else will be told that you’re a medical consultant and to ignore your presence.”

“That sounds like it should work, right, Cure?” Title asks.

“Sounds pretty good to me, sport. You’ll finally get ta heal ponies and not hafta worry ‘bout them showin up at home.”

“Yeah, what do you think, dam? Does that sound good?”

“I don’t see any issue, honey. As long as they can ensure your safety, that’s all I’m worried about.”

“Ah!” Cure calls with a clap. “I just thought of something! Griffons!”

“Uhh… what about ‘em, son?”

“Mom said there’s a small community of griffons over in Baltimare,” turning to the three hospital workers he asks, “Is that right?”

Perfect Hire is the first to answer. “There’s probably about a thousand of them, give or take, between the coast and the cloud district. Mostly the coast, though.” Hesitantly she asks, “Why? Have you had a bad experience with griffons?”

“No, that’s the problem. I’ve had no experience with griffons. I was able to fix your horn because I’ve seen healthy ones and knew what it should look like. There may be some things I can’t fix without scans from a typical healthy example. I should be able to help them if they’re sick or something like that either way, I suppose… unless their biology is quite a bit different from ours.”

“It isn’t. We’re shockingly similar, in fact, even down to blood types. Ponies, Zebras, Saddle Arabians, Minotaurs, Diamond Dogs, Griffons, Abyssinians, Yaks… even Dragons to a degree, which you wouldn’t expect given our different morphologies. It’s fascinating really how similar many of the creatures of the world are, even down to cross-” Dr. Care cuts herself off when she realizes she’s gone off on a tangent.

“Ahem. Yes, anyhow… I don’t think that’ll be an issue either way,” Dr. Care continues, “We’ll probably only have you come in to help with things that we have no way of doing.” Nodding to Hire she continues, “Horn issues, regrowing missing limbs… stuff like that. By the time we have a griffon, or other creature, volunteer I’m sure you’ll have the opportunity to see a healthy one. We’ll make sure of it,” she finishes with a nod.

“Great! I’ve only used my talent on ponies so far, so I have no clue what the rest of those should be like. Huh… ya know, I bet dragons would probably love the cosmetic work I’m doing,” he idly thinks aloud while scratching at his chin.

Title taps Deed who looks at her. Waving at Cure she quickly jabs a hoof out, getting a nod from the stallion who then reaches over and pokes Cure in the side, pulling him out of thought.

“Ah! Oh, sorry. I was just thinkin I could make their scales shine like gemstones and they’d probably friggin love that. Do dragons pay well?”

“Focus, Cure. Jeez…” Title complains, getting a few chuckles from everypony else.

“Right, right. Sorry. Where were we?”

“I think we were trying to determine if you’re part dragon yourself, Cure,” Gale teases. “I can see you with your very own hoard someday,” she adds with a big smile.

“That does sound nice,” he agrees, slowly nodding his head in consideration. “So… where do we go from here?”

“Well, I think we have a plan, roughly, of how we’ll do this, so the next step will be to find volunteers. We can solicit ponies we know, then reach out to clinics and hospitals in the surrounding area,” Dr. Care suggests. “I don’t know exact figures, but somewhere around twelve percent of the population has some kind of disability. I’m assuming we’ll need to start with ones that should require less magic to correct.”

“Definitely,” Cure vehemently agrees. “I have only had my cutie mark for two months. I probably have, and I’m not exaggerating, somewhere around one one-hundredth as much magic as an adult unicorn like you. Likely less.”

“Ah… true. That will change when you turn ten, though. If you’re using your magic up every day then by the time you’re an adult I’m sure you’ll be fine.”

“I am. Several times a day, usually. Especially if I have a lot of appointments.”

“That’ll do it. If you’ve gotten used to that lethargic feeling to the point where it doesn’t bother you then, by the time you’re twelve, you’ll probably surpass most unicorns. Magic pool growth slows dramatically between sixteen and eighteen.

“Very few ponies regularly use all of their magic up, and for those that have their mark early from ten to thirteen is a key time. Use as much magic as you can every day without making yourself sick and you’ll be an absolute powerhouse.

“I have to admit,” she adds, “I’m curious what an earth pony with large magic stores can do. Even with passive magic use you all are so strong it’s ridiculous. Be careful you don’t accidently hurt anypony, Cure.”

“You bet, doc. I appreciate you all coming to meet today. I’m very excited to be able to actually help ponies, so I’m really looking forward to this.”

Author's Note

Alright, I have one more shorter-ish chapter that I'll try to get out tomorrow, then a longer one Friday.

Chapter 39: Tribute

Tuesday, November 11th, 908 AB (3 days later)

School day done with, Cure waves goodbye to his friends and takes off at a quick canter for Lemon’s shop. Today’s a big day for the colt; he’s finally getting some real furniture to turn the upstairs living room area into something resembling a professional office. A couple couches, a long divider, an actual work desk, a chair, a booster for himself, and a real business sign to stick on the wall by the shop’s front door.

Cure had shopped for a nice tri-fold full-length mirror but the things were as much as all of the other purchases put together. He has more than enough income to afford it, but he couldn’t come up with any conceivable reason to spend so much on a mirror when his talent rendered a perfect Illusion viewable at any angle.

Cure was a little disappointed that he didn’t come up with a better name, but BodyWorks Enterprises was good enough and didn’t have any negative connotations or give anypony the idea that the colt that was making their wings pretty could also yoink them off and put them back on the wrong sides if he was in the mood to.

Fortunately that hadn’t happened yet, so despite his desire to play some truly awesome pranks on various ponies, usually Drift, nopony has walked away with anything in the wrong place or inverted, no matter how annoying they were being that day.

Trotting in the store, Cure dances around a few customers and heads to the employee door. Catching sight of the colt while she’s completing a transaction, Lemon yells over to Cure, “Hey Cure, honey! The delivery ponies came by earlier. I had ‘em set it all up there for you to take care of. I didn’t know where you wanted it all.”

“That’s perfect, Lemon! Thanks a bunch for everything you do for me,” he says, walking over to give her a hug. “I’mma go get set up. If my mom walks in with a customer can you holler up for me?” he asks, shooting her a wink.

Lemon knows that means Cure will be up there with a horn on his head, so she ruffles his mane and shoo’s him up the stairs.

As Cure gets to the top of the steps, he looks to his right to see everything piled up. The stairs go from the kitchen area downstairs and open up at the top near the front of the store, just to the right of where the shop’s entrance is when standing in it. The living room area is not small; it basically stretches from the front of the store all the way to where the kitchen starts on the first floor. The remainder of the level is just a small bedroom, bathroom, and a storage closet.

Cure gets his horn out, reshapes it to its normal appearance, and puts it in place.

As best he can tell everything had been brought in through one of the windows, probably floated up from the delivery wagon and hit with a temporary shrinking spell, then brought in, re-enlarged, and basically left in a pile.

He first moves the couches so that they’re flush against the wall that the stairwell is blocked off by. Next, he sets up the dividers to run from the front of the store to about two meters from the back wall, cutting the room in half and creating a separate workspace and lobby area.

The desk is a small, wood one with three drawers and a chest pad for him to lean against when writing. It’s there mainly to have a writing surface so that everypony wasn’t using the floor to write on. That was not a professional look and he knew he could only get away with that for a short while until “I just opened up” wouldn’t be an acceptable excuse.

He still needed to do something permanent about the lighting, but at recess today Dawn had suggested that Cure should talk to her sire about it, which made him wish he’d brought it up a week prior. Regardless, he asked if she could say something to him that evening, so with a little luck maybe Mr. Haze knows how to wire light fixtures to panels like the clinic has.

If he doesn’t Cure figures he can go get a library book and visit a hardware store this upcoming Sunday. There’s no actual electricity, as far as he knows, so it’s not like doing it wrong will burn the building down. Probably. The Light spell doesn’t actually generate heat directly, after all. If all else fails he can ask Lemon to have the folks come out that wired the downstairs and the kitchen, or leave the lights up there and keep doing what he’s been so far.

With the Light crystals charged, turned on, and stuck on the ceiling, the couches by the stairs, the divider cutting the room in half, and the desk against the back wall, Cure now had a functional, if small, waiting-room-slash-lobby. The addition of a Sound Bubble crystal was the last step to give the customers in his workshop full privacy while he worked on them.

The only thing left to do was get a magazine rack above the couches and stock it up and he would no longer have to space appointments out and ensure only one pony was upstairs at a time.

Finished rearranging the room, Cure removes the horn, stows it away, and goes downstairs to fill up on sugar while waiting for his mom and his first appointment of the day; his first de-aging since adding it to his list of offered services. This one won’t be as extensive as Violet Jewel’s was, but at half the price the pony is still getting something they literally can’t find anywhere else on the planet, as far as he knows.

“I can’t believe it. I… I look like I’m over forty years younger.” Analyzing the before and after illusions, the cream colored mare stares in awe. “How is this possible?”

“Magic,” he says, then adds, “I’m not sure, ma’am,” with a shrug. He knows it’s an unsatisfying answer, but unfortunately it’s the only one he has to give. “It just happens to be my special talent. I musta been a good colt in my last life, cause now I get to see beautiful mares smiling at me all the time like you are right now.”

Giggling, she waves a hoof and says, “Oh you! Do you flirt with all of your customers or just the ones almost ten times your age?”

Title quietly turns away so she can roll her eyes.

Eyes wide, Cure leans back in shock. “Ten times my age? Surely you jest, miss! Why, you don’t look a day over twenty five!” he insists, giving her a critical look. “Now as much as I enjoy spending the evening conversing with a mare in the prime of her life,” he sighs in disappointment, “I’m afraid I do have another appointment arriving soon. Was there anything else I can do for you this fine evening?”

“Just one thing.” Pointing at the spot at his hooves she narrows her eyes and leans forward. “You sit right there and don’t you dare move a muscle, young stallion!”

Sitting on his haunches, Cure freezes in place knowing exactly what’s coming next. Like so many others have done before, she walks over to him, lays on her barrel, wraps him in a hug, and plants a kiss on his forehead.

Cure leans into it and nuzzles her back, figuring if mares want to snuggle on him and give him smooches it’s his Harmony-given duty to oblige them. After a few seconds she stands, walks over to the desk, signs the form saying the work is done, and, after Title makes a copy for her, wishes the pair a good evening while heading for the stairs.

Once she’s gone Title gives him an exasperated look. “You are such a playcolt…”

“Oh please,” he says while waving a dismissive hoof, “you know how important good customer service is. Every mare, yourself included, wants a young colt to look at them and tell them how pretty they are. Don’t you even try to deny it either. And the fact that you objectively are so beautiful means I’m sure it happens all the time.”

Smiling softly she lets out a little “Aww” before the victorious smirk on his face registers. “I guess you’re right,” she agrees with a defeated sigh. “Still, have you considered how that’s going to play out when you’re an adult and flirting with all these mares?”

“Huh…” he mutters, looking around. “I guess I’ll need a sturdy table, trash can, a supply of disposable wipes, and a water cooler in here... maybe some air fresheners too.”

“Oh my stars…” she mumbles, covering her eyes with her pastern. “Cure did you really just say that?”

“What? You saw how she looked,” he says, pointing where the Illusion was standing. “Are you tryin to tell me that a healthy adult stallion wouldn’t tap that if she asked for a go?”

“She’s… what the fuck, Cure?” she hisses, waving at the stairs. “She’s almost seventy!”

“So? That means she knows what she’s doing,” he insists with a big grin. Matter-of-factly, he adds, “Besides, she damn sure didn’t look seventy to me.”

Title gawks open-mouthed at the colt.

“Tell me this, mom… how do you get good at anything?”

“Oh come on! I’m not answering that!”

Pointing a hoof at the mare he shouts, “Practice!” Clapping his hooves each time he continues, “Practice, practice, practice!” Sauntering closer, he smiles broadly and slowly asks, “Next question, and be honest, how did your first time go?”

Cringing, she answers, “Not… the best.”

Forelegs thrown wide he shouts, “See?! I mean, I don’t know how much experience she has or anything. It’s not like there’s rings in there to count like a friggin tree,” he continues, ignoring her facehoof, “but statistically speaking who is gonna be better at the horizontal tango? Her or some blushing teenaged virgin?”

Rubbing at her forehead, Title regrets having said anything at all. “I am having a conversation with an eight year old about who’s better at sex between a seventy year old mare and a teenager,” she flatly says out loud. “Something is wrong with my life.”

Trotting over to the stairs, Cure hops on a couch to wait for the next customer. “Meh, you just can’t admit when you’re wrong, that’s all. It’s okay, mom, you don’t have to say it out loud.”

“Good, because I wasn’t going to.”

“That’s the spirit.”

Sighing, she walks over and climbs up to join him, laying on his tail and back with her forelegs surrounding him. Laying her head heavily up his mane and on top of his she whines, “I’m hungry.”

“You’re pregnant; you’re always hungry. Go beg Lemon for a treat. If ya sit up pretty she may toss ya one.”

She leans up slightly and bites his right ear. “It sucks,” she complains, ear still held in her teeth.

Flipping his ear loose he tells her, “Stop being all pregnant all the time. Duh.”

“I blame your sire.”

“That’s fair, but I’m pretty sure you are at least partially at fault. Also, have you two talked about your plans for next time around?”

“Not much. We only really need to decide if we want one or two more.”

“Right, but that’s a big decision. Five new foals in a year and a half is a lot. I’m not trying to sound like I’m discouraging you,” he pauses to nuzzle up into her neck, “I will do anything I can to help, but that’s still a lot of change in a little time. Also, mares are gonna hound dad to stud when you pop out two colts at once.”

“I know, honey,” she says, planting a kiss in his mane. “And he should. We need more colts. Is there any way you could make something like your cherry trees that would cause a stallion to only have them?”

Pausing in thought, Cure mulls it over for only a moment before nodding. “Probably. I don’t think I could make something to actually cause only male sperm production, but I could make something to inhibit female sperm somehow, which would give males a huge advantage when it comes to reaching the egg first. I don’t really have a good way to experiment right now though. I mean… I could test things on dad, but I was plannin on waiting until I was older to tackle that mess. I figured I probably shouldn’t test stuff while he’s... uhh... using the equipment. I suppose right now isn’t a bad time to try things if he’s okay with it.”

Title snorts out a laugh and, after a moment of giggling agrees, “There’s no rush. I’m sure you don’t want to spend a bunch of time staring at scans of that. We’ve gotten by for centuries, I’m sure ponykind can wait another few years until you’re ready.”

“Exactly. I figure once I hit puberty I’ll be able to use my own body as, basically, a rapid testing lab. I know how that sounds, but keep in mind that I can isolate the area and turn off things like pain, discomfort, and so forth and, since it’s a part of me, minimize magic costs. Plus I can basically run experiments all day long to test everything before submitting any treatments to actual medical review. I’ve kinda freed up some space normally needed for the digestive system by improving mine, but I kinda had plans for that, and I’m still physically small so it’s not much room.”

“Plans?”

“Essentially, I was going to play with the idea of having some redundant systems in a hardened, protected sleeve in case something really crazy happened.”

“That sounds simultaneously brilliant and horrifying. I mean... on one hoof,” she says, extending her right hoof, “every fiber of my being says you shouldn’t be experimenting on yourself like that, but on the other,” the left hoof is lazy, apparently, because the right one just shifts to the left side of her as she continues, “I can’t think of an ethical alternative and you’re not actually harming yourself. Just make sure you’re not doing anything crazy before you go to sleep, I guess.”

“Oh yeah, absolutely. That would be a really stupid way to off myself, mom. No, I would never do that.” With his enhanced hearing, he listens in on Lemon talking to a couple mares about an appointment. “I think our customer is here. Or customers, if I’m not mistaken.”

Standing and climbing down to greet them, Title looks over her withers. “Are you good to go already?”

“Yep, I ate a buncha candy before you got here, so I’m already over half. Any idea what she... or they want?”

“No more than you. She just marked ‘Other’ in the book.”

“Yeah, I saw.” Stepping off the couch, he quickly fixes his mane, tail, and the fur on his back and gets ready for round two. “Okay, I’m ready.”

“Be right back,” she calls, disappearing down the stairs. A minute later she comes back up with two earth pony mares in tow; one a bright, pink color similar to his mom with a deep blue mane and tail; the other a bright white with a darker red mane and tail.

“Good evening,” Cure starts, smiling brightly and nodding at the two, “I’m Cure Wave. Welcome to BodyWorks Enterprises. How can I help you lovely ladies tonight?”

“Hi Cure! Oh you’re just ADORABLE!” the pink mare shouts in a very much not-indoor voice, causing Cure to involuntarily recoil slightly. Turning to look at the other mare she continues, “Isn’t he just ADORABLE, Candy?”

“Focus, sweetie,” the white mare insists with a nudge, “Hi, Cure Wave, I’m Candy Cane and this is my wife Bubbles. We were kinda hoping you could do something… well… a little different,” she finishes looking a little uncomfortable.

“Umm… sure, how about we step into my office and we can discuss it inside a Sound Bubble for privacy. As a minor, I do have to insist that my mom join us… is that okay?”

“That would be WONDERFUL! Thank you SO MUCH!” Bubbles enthusiastically agrees with a smile that reminds him of a herbivore version of the prank he pulled on his parents. It’s more than a little off putting, particularly because of the level of energy the mare is exhibiting.

As Cure turns to walk around the divider he shoots Title a slightly concerned look, getting a minute nod in return. The two mares follow the pair around the divider and into the well-lit workspace.

Cure gives the pair a couple blank forms, explains the process, then activates the Sound Bubble crystal. “So, nopony outside the surrounding four meters or so can hear us… what can I do for you?”

Bubbles inhales to answer and Cure can feel his ears instinctively turning away from the mare, but before she can get a syllable out Candy reaches over and sets a hoof on her withers. She turns to the pair and explains, “My honeybun participates in a lot of competitions, you see, so she was hoping you could help her with something that would kind of give her a little edge.”

“Competitions?” he asks, getting nods in return. Brows furrowed he asks, “What kind of competitions?”

“BUBBLEGUM BLOWING COMPETITIONS! WOOO!” the pink mare cheers, rearing up and dancing on her back hooves.

Candy Cane enthusiastically nods and continues her explanation, “Yep! Bubbles is one of the top five bubble blowers in the whole country,” she says while looking at the still dancing mare fondly. “She was hoping you could do a little something that would launch her up to number one!” she excitedly cheers, pumping a hoof and adding to Bubbles’ enthusiasm.

“Uhh… well… I’m not sure if that might be cheating,” he admits, scratching at his right temple in thought. “What exactly were you two hoping I could do?”

“She wants a longer tongue.”

Completely bewildered at the unexpected answer, he blurts out “What?” thinking he may have misheard her.

“A BIG, LONG, SUPER STRONG TONGUE! WOO! Then NOPONY will be able to beat me!”

“Umm… pardon me for a moment while we... uhh discuss how that might work. We’ll be right back,” he says, turning away and tilting his head to the side.

Once outside the Sound Bubble he flatly asks, “Is this a sex thing? Does a longer tongue even help you blow bubblegum bubbles? I would think that’s more in the lips, but I ain’t hoofin out no DSL’s over here.” Glancing back he corrects himself, “Or PSL’s, whatever.”

His mom tilts her head in confusion at the unfamiliar acronyms. “What?” she slowly asks.

“Uhh… I’ll tell ya later.”

After a moment’s stare, Title leaves that line of questioning aside and looks back at the pair. “I’m… not sure ,” she answers, also baffled. “I mean, two mares walk in and ask for a long, strong tongue and I would immediately think ‘sex thing’ too, but look at her,” she says, motioning with her eyes to the still-dancing pink mare.

“Is she faking it so we don’t ask more questions? I mean, when they said Bubblegum Blowing Contest I immediately made… uhh… assumptions,” he explains, staring at Bubble’s cutie mark. “Then I wondered what the winning conditions are.” Looking up in thought he adds, “Now I’m kinda considering what appropriate prizes may be.” Pausing he adds, “I’m pretty sure I have your sex talk from earlier to blame for most of that.”

Title is turned sideways, coughing to try to hide her laughing. Fortunately Candy is completely enthralled by the, admittedly, impressive way Bubbles can move on two hooves. Most ponies only last a few seconds before they fall back down to all fours, but this mare has some amazing balance.

“I guess it doesn’t really matter as long as they’re paying,” Cure finally says with a scrunched snout. “While I’m at it should I check for brain damage? I feel like you have to have something wrong with you to be that happy, even if you are faking it.”

Wiping the tears away, Title finally gets herself under control. “If you find any, leave it alone. That’s not your problem.” She pauses in thought then adds, “Actually, figure out if you can temporarily give it to somepony else. I’m curious what that level of joy feels like.”

“Well… what do you think I should do about the request?”

“I dunno. Can you do it?”

“Yeah… remember the time I did the stinger tongue thing?”

“Oh yeah. That was kinda funny,” she answers with a smile.

“Right? I thought it was badass. Dam’s no fun sometimes,” he complains with a frown. “Anyhow, I guess I can give her a big long tongue.” Scrunching his snout again he adds, “Wow I feel a little dirty just saying it. I wonder if I should scan Candy so I get the length just right...”

“Oh my stars, Cure. Go!” she insists, waving at the pair. “Let’s get this over with and go home. I’m hungry.”

Rolling his eyes, he agrees while turning back to the pair. “Sure, alright. I wonder if I can turn down her damn volume controls while I’m at it. Good Lord... If that’s not an act can you imagine how wild she is in bed?”

The procedure was quite a bit more complex than Cure had expected due to the uniqueness of the request. By the time they were done he was completely convinced that it was, absolutely, a sex thing, and it was not Bubbles that was going to end up getting blown with that unit, but instead a Candy Cane that was going to get its stripes licked off.

When he started trying to figure out how to make it work his first thought went back to the frogs and toads he’d scanned at the pond, but frog tongues appear long mainly because the composition is a very different makeup than what ponies have. They are longer, but they stretch a lot. They’re much wider, too, given the shape of a frog’s mouth compared to a pony, and are connected at the front of the mouth, not the back.

Instead, for all intents and purposes, Bubbles’ tongue is now a tentacle. There’s other words that can be used, but functionally, that’s the best description he can think of. The musculature is most like an elephant’s trunk, which is a design that’s not terribly dissimilar to one Cure has used before and hasn’t heard any complaints from his parents about.

Of course, there’s no need for air or other conduits inside of a tongue, and with earth pony strength added in it ended up not being a whole lot wider or thicker than normal; at least not the part that would actually be visible. The connection at the base needed buffed up a little, but she should now be able to do some impressive curls with the thing.

The tricky part was finding room for everything, and it became necessary for Cure to rearrange some of the soft tissue in the throat just to make sure she couldn’t possibly cut off her own airway. Given the length she could still do it, but it would take a conscious effort, and Cure suspects it won’t be her own esophagus she’s exploring with the appendage anyhow.

After pointing out several potential issues and recommending she stop by in a few days for a checkup to ensure everything is functioning correctly, Cure relented and completed the job, charging the mare a grand for the extensive custom work and in an attempt to discourage future “bubblegum blowing” enthusiasts from flooding his schedule.

Of course, now that he has a functional, if initial, design down he’s not completely opposed to booking as many as ponies are willing to pay for it. After all, when it comes to bang for the buck the tongues, at a grand a pop, beat most of his other procedures in the income over magic used equation. Still, the big concern he has is that if you can make a tongue longer and prehensile, other parts can have the same features added, and that’s not something he wants to start at eight years old.

“Somepony’s here,” Cure warns as they approach the house. “I think it’s Uncle Lucky and Grandpa Brick. I guess he got our message after all.”

Title lets out an inarticulate growl.

“Sweet Harmony, mom, did you freakin skip lunch or something?”

“Shattap you. You try bein pregnant sometime and tell me yer not hungry.”

“I never hear dam complaining.”

“Give it a few months.”

Cure opens the door and stands aside for the mare to go in first, then follows her in to greet their visitors. “Hey Uncle Lucky, hi Grandpa,” he calls out as he trots over to greet the pair.

Cure notices they both have long coats and hats laying beside them on the floor. Most pony houses, at least poor ones like his, don’t have coat hooks or racks by the door. They do have a closet, though, which makes the fact they’ve kept their stuff nearby seem odd.

Title gives a quick “hello” and heads straight to the kitchen to join her wife getting dinner ready. She definitely wasn’t just trying to steal some scraps or anything.

Lucky doesn’t hesitate a second to scoop Cure up and give him a big hug and a quick smooch on each cheek. “Look at this colt! What are ya feedin ‘em, V?” he rhetorically asks the room. “He’s shootin up like a weed ova here! Ya got some giraffe in yer family, sweetheart?”

“Cure,” his great grandsire nods in greeting as his sire yells out “Heya, champ!” As Lucky sets him down and musses up his mane, Brick stoically continues, “I understand that you have some news.”

Cure tosses his bags on the floor near his sire and gives a quick “Yep” while greeting Deed and flopping between his forelegs, nuzzling up into his neck. “I’m sure you’ve heard about my cosmetic business,” he starts, getting an affirmative nod.

“I have,” he responds, paying no mind to Lucky rejoining him. “I admit I was surprised when I heard about that, not to mention the arrangement with Bulwark’s team. That was a good decision, son. The Guard is a powerful ally, and Her Highness will certainly appreciate your help there.”

“That’s good to hear. As far as we’re concerned, though,” he says, motioning between he and Brick, “I’ll not deny that I was being paranoid keeping some of my cards close to my chest. But honestly grandpa, you live fifteen minutes away and, prior to that, I’d seen you one time in my life as far as I can remember.”

Brick lets out a deep sigh and nods in acceptance of the criticism. “That’s fair. One of the things the Guard emphasizes is information security. Based on what I’ve seen you’re familiar with the term.”

“I am,” Cure agrees, “and it is important, which is why I’ve been very careful about telling anypony what all I can really do. I do want to help the family however I can, though, which is why we reached out again the other week.

“I had a special request just prior to us sending that message. Somepony asked for me to try something new,” he explains. “It worked well enough that I’ve begun offering it as a regular service. The name is slightly misleading, but I’m offering deaging to ponies that would like to look and feel like they did decades prior.”

Lucky’s eyes get as big as saucers, but Brick furrows his brows in thought before speaking up. “Misleading… so you’re not truly turning back the clock?”

“No, at least not exactly. Think of it like this. Aging is kind of like a disease. I think I may be able to find the cure at some point, but I’ve only had my mark for a couple of months. All I’m doing right now is treating the symptoms,” he explains. “Still, there’s a lot of value in that alone.”

“There is. How much are you typically charging for this?”

“1500 bits,” he answers, getting an impressed whistle from Lucky. “It’s a complex procedure and, typically, completely saps my magic, so I have to space out any other appointments I have.”

“That sounds too low,” Brick responds immediately. “I would suggest double. Of course that depends on how effective the treatment is.”

“I was hoping to show you if you’d let me. I can’t charge for a demonstration, of course, then you factor in the friends and family discount, etcetera,” he finishes, rolling his hoof in a “and so on” motion. “How about it, grandpa? Wanna go home looking and feeling better than you have in forty years?” he asks, holding out a hoof.

Brick takes a moment to look at the hoof, then meets Cure’s friendly, smiling gaze. He looks to Lucky on his left for a second and gets a quick nod from the younger stallion. Mind made up, he inches forward enough to take Cure’s hoof and gives him a nod.

“You’re going to feel a breeze over your coat. Also, this will take some time. Like I said, there’s a lot to it,” Cure warns, then gets started. Brick is in early liver failure. He probably would have been fine for a year or two, maybe longer with earth pony resilience helping, but he likely had a half decade or less to live. “Good thing ya stopped in, grandpa. Been having any tenderness right about here?” he asks, using his left hoof to point to his right side just behind and below his withers. Brick winces and turns away from the group.

Cure nods and continues. “You can’t ignore that kinda stuff. You won’t need to worry about it now anyway. I’m also going to remove your wrinkles, brighten up your coat, tail, and mane, get rid of the arthritis, fix all the messed up cartilage in your hips and knees, probably from your military career, and then we’ll take care of those teeth and eyes.

“The easy part,” he adds, “will be makin sure you still look like a grumpy old stallion even without looking old… you seem ta have that down pat regardless. Probably from whatever time you spent as a DS.”

Brick turns back with a scowl while Lucky howls out a laugh and Deed turns away to chuckle quietly, though there’s no hiding the shaking of his shoulders.

Cure points at the unhappy expression and happily shouts. “Yep, there it is! Nailed it, grandpa!” he cheers, getting a huff out of him.

“I was a captain in the Royal Guard,” he growls to the side, “and I’m sitting here being smart-talked to by an eight year old.”

“Uh huh,” Cure agrees with a nod. “Well, captain, maybe you can remind me who would have the authority to relieve you of command,” Cure says in a teasing tone.

“How in Tartarus would you know that?” he snaps back.

“As you pointed out, you’re not the first military pony I’ve treated, sir.”

Grumbling under his breath, he blows out like a bull but remains otherwise quiet, ignoring the snickers coming from Lucky who probably doesn’t get to see his grandsire being ribbed very often.

Cure turns to his uncle and asks, “Hey Uncle Lucky, you mind doing me a small favor?”

“Sup, colt?”

“Don’t react ‘till I’m done here, I don’t wanna spoil the surprise.”

“Sure thing!” he agrees with nod.

After several minutes Cure feels his sire offering up some magic to help speed things along, so he accepts it and fixes Brick up without just dumping a bunch of unguided healing magic in him. Finally, he releases the hoof and reaches for his bag to the side, getting a helpful hoof from Deed.

“Thanks, pa,” he says as he pulls out the Illusion crystal. “Alright, grandpa, here’s what you looked like when you walked in here… and here’s how you look now.”

Brick reviews the two illusions, looking over himself at the same time. He looks on with about as much excitement as somepony looking over a tax form. “Hmm. I’ll be damned,” he mumbles while standing. He takes a few steps away from everypony and gives himself a quick lookover, then turns back to face Cure. For the first time Cure’s seen, the now 30-ish looking stallion actually smiles. “Amazing! Wonderful work, Cure. Your grandmothers aren’t going to know what to do with me.”

Cure has to bite his tongue to avoid blurting out anything inappropriate. Lucky has no such reservations, though, and lowly says, “I dunno, grandpa, I think they can probably come up with some ideas once ya show up.”

Coughing in a hoof, Cure turns aside and adds, “Not to make it weird,” even though it already is more than weird enough, “but I guarantee my patients won’t be disappointed with any part of the deaging package.”

“Ah geez, cous, you already gave the colt tha talk? He's eight!”

“I hadta!” Deed vigorously defends. “Ya oughta see the troop ‘a fillies he has followin ‘em around everywhere! The colt’s gonna have a dozen wives, I tell ya!”

“Alright, enough,” Brick calls over them. “I don’t want your grandmothers raking me over the coals for any of your shenanigans. Keep it clean.”

“Yessir.”
“Sorry, gramps.”

“So, Cure,” Brick starts while lying back by Lucky, “when do you think you might be able to find room in your schedule to see your grandmothers? I’m sure that’ll be the second or third question they ask when I get home tonight, and I don’t think I’ll survive if I can’t give them some firm dates.”

“Well, this weekend’s going to be a bit busy for me, unfortunately, but I do have all day on the twenty third available. Honestly, grandpa, I’m not nearly cruel, or stupid, enough to not do all of them on the same day.”

Author's Note

One more tomorrow & we get into December with some REAL action as Cure... DOES HIS TAXES! WOOO!

Chapter 40: Sharing is Caring

Sunday, November 16th, 908 AB (5 days later)
Location: Baltimare library

“Why did I even agree to this?” Solar grumbles. “It’s cold out and I could be spending time with my friends.”

“First off, ouch. Second, c’mon dude, yer gonna break your sister’s heart talkin like that,” Cure whispers, giving the pouting filly a nuzzle. “I’ll always look forward to hanging out with ya, Sunrise.”

“Why don’t you wanna spend time with me, big bwuther?” she asks, bottom lip quivering at the red colt.

“Gah! Don’t point that at me!” he hisses, turning away from ponykind’s most feared weapon. “I know you’re fakin it anyhow, so just quit. You know damn well that’s not what I meant.”

Smirking in victory, Dawn looks back to Cure. “What are we here for anyhow?”

“A few things. I wanted to get a book I didn’t snag when I came here with my parents,” he explains as he digs through the magic section, “and I figured I should look for something about clothes making. Wait… dressmaking? That’s not specifically about dresses is it?” he asks, pausing in thought.

A poke from Dawn knocks him out of his head. “Screw it, sewing. Anyhow, with my dam making baby stuff I thought maybe I could learn a little to help out.”

“Aww… you’re gonna be such a good big brother, Cure!” she gushes, nuzzling into him.

“Here it is! Thanks, babe,” he says, returning the affection. Cure passes the spell modification book to Solar and takes off for the Arts & Crafts section. The pair trail behind him with Solar looking through the book, levitating it in front of him while walking.

“I really hope you’re not planning on trying this stuff when I’m not around, Cure. Modifying spells without somepony else around is a horrible idea. Dawn doesn’t have enough experience to know what she’s doing, either.” Considering the material for a moment he adds, “I don’t have the experience to know what I’m doing with this… I’m not sure our sire does either, really.”

“Nah, I’m not going to do anything. Not anytime soon at least. I’m mainly doing pattern analysis with my talent in the hopes I can piece together some working models on spell creation,” he explains as he looks through the selection of books about sewing.

He grabs a beginner’s guide and a book about looms and tosses them on his back. “Two or three more books and I’m good to go,” he calls as he trots towards the reference books.

“Chemistry?” Dawn asks as he pulls a book off the shelf. “Is this for something with your talent?”

“Nope. This is more to refresh my memory. I saw something once that I thought may be useful if I ever do learn spell creation and I wanted to find a copy of it to scan with my talent. I probably won’t mess with this stuff for years, but the curiosity is eatin at me.”

“I don’t think you can leave with these books,” Solar points out. “The Reference section is only for use here at the library.”

“Yeah, I figured that,” Cure says, leafing through a second book, “I may have to reproduce the table on my belly or side and just scan that. Not ideal, but better than nothing. Good thing I can write small with my talent.”

When the colt moves to the third book Solar asks, “What is it you’re looking for specifically? Maybe we can help.”

“A copy of the periodic table.”

The siblings look at each other with the same befuddled look before Dawn turns back asking, “The what?”

Realizing Dawn probably wouldn’t know that, Cure looks up from the book to the pair. “You know… the periodic table of the elements,” he clarifies, still getting confused looks. “You’ve never seen a periodic table?” Waving a hoof across and then up and down he adds, “All the elements in rows and columns based on their atomic number?”

Both unicorns slowly shake their heads no. Solar explains, “I have absolutely no idea what you’re talking about.”

“Didn’t you learn any chemistry in school?”

“Miss Shadow gave us a science book that had a chapter on chemicals and which are dangerous.”

“Ahh… crap,” he mumbles, shoulders sagging. “Gimme a second, I think I was looking for the wrong thing,” he says, starting over and, instead of looking for a big, colorful table, searches for a list of chemicals and their properties. He does find a list, though there’s only about sixty chemicals on it with the highest being Lead, somehow still bearing the familiar Pb abbreviation.

Okay so everything matches at a glance, probably because it all comes from Latin, but I coulda sworn several chemicals got their name from a location they were found originally. Maybe that’s only the newer artificial ones.

Fuck it, I’m just glad they’re not too much more suspicious of me. I think I can fill in a lot of the crap missing outside of all those metals and probably a dozen of those with this list.

Breathing a sigh of relief, Cure asks for a moment to duplicate the page. Solar looks over his shoulder for a second before backing away, shaking his head. “I only recognize a few of the names on that list. What in the hay are you going to use that for?”

“I’m trying to determine if there’s a correspondence between conjuration spells and what’s being conjured. Water is the key because I know exactly what it’s made of. I suspect there’s at least a pattern on the metaphysical side, but I figured I might as well make sure it’s not more obvious before I give up on it.”

“That… sounds kinda brilliant, actually. I’ve never heard of the idea, but it would make sense.”

“What could you do with that?” Dawn asks.

“Not much in the short term, but the potential is unlimited if I’m right. And that’s not hyperbole. If I’m right about this then I’d be very worried about somepony else figuring it out because the possibilities are almost endless,” Cure warns as he closes the book and replaces it on the shelf.

“Normally I would dismiss stuff like that from a foal…” Solar says with a questioning brow.

Meeting his eyes, Cure casually explains, “The same elements that bond and make water, when not combined, explode violently when ignited. Not a powerful explosion, mind you, but still.”

“What? How? Water doesn’t explode…”

“Water is H2O; two hydrogen atoms bonded with an oxygen atom. The H2 part without the oxygen atom is hydrogen gas. Add flame and it’ll explode and you’ll end up with a fireball, then water vapor because during the explosion the H2 bonds with oxygen in the air, giving you H2O.”

Heading off the question he knows is coming he explains, “I saw a chemist explain it, then poke a balloon full of hydrogen with a candle on a stick to demonstrate. It was pretty neat.”

“Oh.”

“I’d kinda like to see that,” Solar says, getting an agreeing nod from his sister.

“Yeah, I wouldn’t mind seeing it again. We could buy balloons and try, but we would have to figure out how to conjure the H2 part without the O part. I would need to do some prep to make it safer. It may also be restricted since, ya know, explosion and all. It’s also very loud.”

Nodding in understanding, Solar asks, “Ah. Like, how loud are we talking?”

“It’s an explosion, dude…”

“What if we used the Sound Bubble spell?” Dawn asks.

The two colts share a look and shrug. “We could try but it’ll be a long time before we can even figure out the right spell,” Cure explains as he replaces the books. “Alright, the last thing I am looking for is a list of formulas, so I’ll need a physics and a math book. They usually have an index at the end with all of them listed.”

“There is no way you should know that,” Solar says with a frown.

“Yeah, when the hay have you read a physics book, Cure?”

“I don’t think I’ve ever actually read one but physics is basically math, and every other math book I’ve seen has a formula page at the end so you don’t have to dig through the text.”

The unicorns share an unsure look, but instead of arguing they start looking through books themselves. Once Cure finds and duplicates the formula pages they put the books back and he turns to the pair.

“We’re going to Early’s next, unless there’s something else either of you needs…?” Getting no head shakes Cure nods and trots to the desk to check out.

Flush with cash and hoping to stock up for the winter, the three make their way to Early’s Odds and Ends. The enchanting section still sucks compared to what was in Canterlot, but Cure didn’t expect much anyhow. He is planning on sending a few thousand bits with his sire when he goes to the investment seminar in January, but it occurs to him that may not be necessary.

“Hey mister?” he calls, approaching the same older stallion. “Do you have a catalog for higher tier crystals or maybe some inventory you don’t leave on the shelves?”

“Hrm… ya seem familiar, son. Weren’t you in here askin about enchantments a couple months back?”

“Yessir. Remember I said I have a friend who is a really good caster?”

“Right. Yep, I remember ya now. Have any luck comin up with anything, son?”

“Not for makin money with enchanting, but I’ve found uses for everything we bought that day. My fillyfriend’s brother brought us so I could stock back up on supplies. I’m going to be helpin the local guard unit by providing them some scrolls, but I thought I’d check your crystal inventory while I’m here.”

“Ahh. Good thinkin. Always wondered why I never see the guard carryin scrolls. The little things can be really useful. I have a couple mid tier gems I keep locked up, but they’re 750 bits apiece. Anything more and I’ll hafta get it shipped in.”

“Would ya sell the pair for 1200? I’m buying out your ink supply, most of the scroll paper you have, a hooffull of the cantrip crystals, six lows, and a few more of the mid-low too if that’ll help.”

“Mmm… I’d be takin a loss on the gems at 1200. 1400.”

“Yer killin me here, buddy! 1300, and don’t go tellin me yer not coming out ahead when I’m about to drop another 500 and change on everything else. Dam didn’t raise no fool, mister!”

“HAH! Alright, son, if you got the bits they’re yours. Don’t go expectin me ta hoof ya over the whole store next time, ya hear!”

“You bet, old timer. We’ll gather everything up and be right there.”

“Sounds good. Here’s the price list for ordering more. You pay up front. Add ten percent on for shipping and my overhead. Minimum order is five hundred bits.”

“Great, thanks mister!”

The list has a few manufacturers of enchantment machines listed and a few models under each one. There’s also a section for bulk purchases of powdered crystal dust, ink, parchments, a variety of fancy quills and fountain pens. The prices for crystals are what he expected, if a tad marked up.

The mid ones like he is buying are 700 each, then 5000, 50,000, and “Auction only” for mid-high, high, and superior and above. The exceptional he’d seen an auction for in Canterlot would probably go for a few times its starting bid, but given that it could contain a hell of a powerful spell or just a lot of juice, it’s probably well worth it. He assumes crystals like that are used in the military or for some kind of industrial purposes.

A few items Cure hadn’t even considered draw his attention; an enchanted scroll book and legitimate spatial bags.

The bags start at two grand for a bit pouch and go up from there, but the description says they hold up to ten times their volume and the weight inside is nullified. Cure can only assume the contents are being shunted to some kind of pocket space, but the possibility alone is enticing.

Larger bags or ones that have more features, like binding, cost a helluva lot more. None indicate they have the “stopped time” feature he’d seen in a lot of fantasy stories, but the security options available are extensive, if pricey.

The scroll book promises to be a purchase he’ll be getting in the very near future. At five grand apiece they still feel like an absolute steal if the description is accurate. The books are similar to the storage bags in that they have a small, compressed spatial enchantment. They can each hold up to twenty scrolls. The enchantment lets the user label a scroll or paper when storing it, then can eject the called for document on command when needed.

It may be a bit pricey for Bulwark’s guards, but he and his parents will certainly be well prepared should the need to fight or flee come up at some point.

Done reviewing the catalog, Cure starts heading to where he sent the others to get all the enchanting supplies they need. Before he can take two steps towards the aisle the unicorn siblings trot out of it with everything levitating behind them. The three will be fairly loaded up for the trip home, but with no more planned stops it should be no problem.

“What kept ya, Cure?” Solar asks.

“I was checking out a catalog for enchanting supplies. Also, I was able to haggle down the dude running the shop. Got 200 bits off a pair of mid tier crystals to go along with everything else. Thank the stars business has been insane this last week.”

“Nice! Any idea what you’ll do with ‘em?” he asks as they make their way to the counter.

“Not yet but I’m sure I’ll find a use eventually. I’m thinking one will be for practicing teleportation. It’ll be a good way for me to burn magic off when we can’t hit the range.”

“Yeah you probably only have barely enough to move a couple meters normally, huh?”

“Right, but compared to when I got my mark I’ve got about three quarters more capacity. Not bad for two and a half months.”

“That’s fantastic, Cure,” Dawn proudly beams, “you’ll probably catch up to me in a year or so!”

They had experimented at the range at the beginning of the month and found that Dawn has roughly four times his capacity. As if that wasn’t enough of a blow to his ego, they’d done the math and estimated Solar is somewhere around seventy to eighty times his maximum.

The not-even-fully-grown unicorn’s output is double the combined total of Cure and all three parents, if barely. Like Dr. Care, Solar was quick to explain that Cure will likely end up with more given how early he’d gotten his mark compared to himself, who’d only gotten his shortly after turning thirteen.

Cure’s biggest advantage at the moment is his cheating ability to amp up his regeneration relative to his magic capacity. Unicorns already generate magic at slightly under double the rate of earth ponies and pegasi, and all ponies’ regeneration increases along with their capacity.

With a little over 35% of his body’s mitochondria converted he has almost as much percentage of “magic generating” cells in his body as the siblings do. Combined with his “Mana Pot” routine to focus his system primarily on magic regen and the fact he’s physically larger with lower fat percent, Cure’s regeneration is about 80% of Dawn’s, making up much of the advantage she has due to her larger pool and whatever is happening on the metaphysical side of the equation.

The 35% of cells (fat excluded) he’d converted make up about 90% of the “earth pony” cells in his muscles. He’d started with them specifically because it’s easier to verify that he wasn’t losing his strength advantage when converting. As a result his body’s mitochondria makeup is approximately (fat excluded) 3.5% earth pony, 35.5% hybrid, 5% pegasus, and 56% unicorn.

He’d initially been excited to see what effect the conversion would have on his magic, but now he was curious what will happen with his TK field once he starts converting the unicorn cells outside of his muscles to the hybrid version.

“Maybe. You’re a half year older and have a four year head start, but I have my regen trick. Of course it could be due to having my mark too.”

Conversation stops as the three place their selection on the counter. “Got the crystals, mister?”

“Right here, son. Ya got the bits, don’t ya?”

“My butler here does,” he says, patting Solar on the side. “Pay the nice stallion, Bentley,” he commands, intentionally looking away when Solar scowls down at him. Dawn’s snickering to the side doesn’t seem to speed up the older colt, but he still relents and pulls two thousand bits out of his bag and pays the bill, casting a side-eye at Cure the whole time.

“Just for that I’m keeping the change,” he mutters under his breath.

“Maybe use it to buy a nice suit, young stallion. Gotta dress the part,” the shopkeeper suggests with a smirk.

Solar takes the purchases with a huff. “Everypony’s a comedian, huh?” he remarks, dropping the heaviest item (the ink) on Cure none-too-gently. Dawn stows the paper in her bags and Solar puts the assortment of crystals in his bag along with the receipt.

“Hey mister, how long does it take to get special orders like those bit pouches in that catalog?”

“Usually two to three weeks, son. Lookin to order something special?”

“Yep. I’ll have to come back another time, though. Didn’t come prepared for all that.”

With an understanding nod, the clerk reminds him, “Don’t wait too long if you’re wanting it before the holiday.”

As they turn to leave Cure yells back, “Thanks, old timer! I’ll be back soon!” The three exit the store and start their walk back to the train station. Solar is walking between the pair with his sister on his right. They’re only a block away when two earth ponies, a mare and a stallion, step out from between two buildings right in front of them, causing them to come to a quick stop.

The mare pulls her bag up slightly on her left side showing a knife handle hanging off her back. “In the alley-”

She doesn’t quite finish before Cure takes a half step forward and blasts out a huge sneeze, interrupting her mid sentence.

“ACHOO!”

The pair freeze, then collapse in a heap. “What the fuck?” a third voice calls from in the alley, drawing all three foals’ attention. Solar doesn’t hesitate to hit the last mare with a quick Stun, knocking her out on the spot while Cure leans over and taps both Solar and Dawn.

“Ah… bless me. Sorry ‘bout the spray,” Cure chuckles as he skips to the downed pair. “I can’t believe it finally happened!” he excitedly calls out, tail wagging like a puppy as he does something to the two he’d disabled.

“What in Tartarus did you do to them?” Solar asks.

“I didn’t do shit! Nice fire speed on that stunner, Quick Draw McGraw. Quick, shoot these two. Trust me. Now!”

Solar gives each of the downed ponies a stun just as they begin to stir.

“Nice!” Cure cheers with a hoof pump. Next he takes a deep breath and yells, “GUARDS! I NEED A GUARD!” drawing looks from further down the street. “Dawn, honey? Are you okay?” he asks, giving the frozen filly a nuzzle.

“Yeah… I’m fine,” she insists, stepping closer to Solar and leaning into his right foreleg. “What was that?”

Walking between the pair and the muggers he faces them and explains, “That was your lightning quick brother stunning three miscreants before they could even finish their nefarious command to follow them into an alley where I’m betting that knife on her,” he points at the armed mare, “would have come out to be all intimidating and whatnot.”

Looking at Solar he comments, “Solar Strike indeed. The only horn that’s faster than light, eh buddy?”

Solar looks like he has no clue what’s going on. “What?” he confusedly asks.

“Get it together, you two,” Cure commands with a clap. Waving to the downed pair he explains, “These schmucks stepped in our way, flashed a knife, and tried to coerce us into the alley, got it?” At their nods he says, “Pegasus guards incoming, 30 seconds. Anyhow, I sneezed, distracting them, and Solar opened fire, tagging all three before they could react. Understand?”

“Yep.”
“Okay.”

“Great! Stick to the story, okay?” Sitting on his haunches, Cure waves his forelegs in the air yelling, “OFFICER! OVER HERE!” even though the pair of pegasus guards are already obviously on their way.

One is barely over eighteen, if that. She has a light green coat with a yellow mane like Cure’s dam. The other one looks a couple years older, has a pink coat and navy blue mane, and has a pair of chevrons on her armor.

As they land the corporal approaches the six while the private stays back a few steps.

“Oh officer!” Cure starts, still waving back turned to the alley, “Thank Celestia you got here so fast. These three just tried to mug us! Watch out, that one has a knife under her bag. We’re all unharmed thanks to my friend here,” he explains, reaching over and patting Solar’s left foreleg with his right hoof.

The mare approaches the downed ponies, but keeps them between herself and the trio. She does remove the knife, tossing it on the ground off to the side of her partner, then checks the other two quickly, finding another knife on the mare in the alley and, once she moves closer, throws it near the other.

Finally satisfied that the stunned ponies are disarmed, she looks at Solar and asks, “Stunned all three of ‘em?”

“Yes ma’am.”

“I’m assuming these two stopped ya and that one was waiting in the alley?”

“Yep. They stepped out and said to go in the alley while flashing a knife. The colt,” he motions to Cure, “sneezed and that got them looking his way. Once they had their eyes off of me I hit ‘em with a stun and the mare in the alley made a noise. I hit her as soon as I noticed her.”

“Nice work, son. We’ve had a couple reports matching these three. The rest of our squad should be here in a sec. How hard did ya hit em?”

“Hard enough. It’ll be about an hour before they’re up.”

“I can wake them up sooner if it’ll help. I have a healing special talent. We’re all from Golden Hills and I’m workin with Staff Sergeant Bulwark over there, so I’m sure your Captain, LT, and maybe even your sergeant have seen my RMF-4 papers.”

“Uhh… let’s hold off on that for now, colt.”

“I didn’t know you could wake up a stunned pony,” Dawn comments.

“I haven’t tried,” Cure explains with a shrug, “but it probably does. It does every stupid thing else, so why not heal whatever nerve shock thing the Stun spell seems to do?”

Solar sighs and rolls his eyes. “I can’t even argue with the logic there. It’ll probably work.”

Cure can hear the distant clanking of armor and synchronized clomps of hooves a few moments before eight guards come into sight from a crossing street a block away. The squad makes good time at a quick canter and, within twenty seconds, is slowing down to a trot and forming a perimeter around the area.

The lead pony is a unicorn and, from the insignia, a sergeant. She’s a half hoof taller than Solar and, even with the armor, a little slimmer. She has a very bright white coat with a silver mane. The corporal stands at attention as the sergeant approaches and asks her for the situation. Cure catches most of the conversation, which is a retelling of what Solar had told her along with his RM status.

The sergeant looks over the three muggers, waves at a few troops, and snarls out “Bind ‘em!” Then approaches the trio, the corporal and her partner following.

“Nopony’s hurt, right?” she asks.

“No ma’am,” all three chorus, Cure adding, “I’m a biomanipulator, ma’am, just so you know you’ve got an RMF-4 on your hooves. That’s the designation Sgt. Bulwark told me, at least.”

“Thanks for the heads up, son, but that doesn’t matter here. We’ve been after these three for a few weeks. They come after you after you spent some bits?”

“Yes ma’am,” Solar answers, “just spent almost two grand at the hobby store on enchanting supplies.”

Nodding, she explains, “One of them probably saw three youths shopping and overheard. I bet they were in there watching to see how much ya spent. No matter. Corporal Streak will take your info and we’ll have you on your way. You stunned all three, son?”

“Yes ma’am. I’m enlisting in January. My sire is the day shift second in command in Golden Hills.”

The sargeant looks up in thought for a second before asking, “Sgt. Haze, right? You’re his colt?”

“Yes ma’am, and this is my sister and her coltfriend.”

The sergeant gives him an up-down look and nods in approval. “Yer damn sure ready. Basic’s gonna be a joke for ya, son. Keep up the good work, young stallion,” she calls as she turns away. “Load ‘em up and let’s move!” she orders, getting the attention of her guards.

The three muggers are thoroughly cuffed and restrained. A unicorn loads the two mares onto one earth pony guard and the stallion on another. The other three earth pony guards form a triangle with two on the sides and one behind. The sergeant takes point, the other two unicorns take the rear, and once the corporal gets Solar’s info, the pegasi shoot up into the air to circle above.

“We’ll be in touch if we need anything,” the sergeant yells over her withers as the squad starts marching off; the crowd parting and cheering as the prisoners are taken away. A few come over to thank Solar and ask if the group are okay, but after a few reassurances that they’re fine they make an expeditious retreat for the train.

The train arrives soon after they got to the station. All three are hesitant to discuss what happened until they were somewhere safe, so after a few minutes of quiet Dawn finally thinks of something she hadn’t thought to ask Cure about during the run last night.

“Hey Cure?”

“Hmm?”

“I was wondering how it went yesterday. You know, the unicorn?”

“Ah. It went really well, actually. I didn’t get a chance to tell you last night, but they flew me to Baltimare for it.”

“Huh, dam didn’t say anything either,” Solar explains.

“Does she usually talk about work stuff much?”

“No,” Dawn starts, “We only hear about gossip from her, mostly.”

“Yeah, I’ve had a few ask about ‘my little fillyfriend’ or whatever. I suspect they may be trying to hook me up with their daughters or nieces or whatever.”

“You’re going to get that a lot, dude. It’s bad enough when you’re a normal colt, you on the other hoof… everypony’s going to try to introduce you to their daughter if they’re remotely close in age.”

“No doubt. We talked about that a couple weeks ago at my business too. I’m gettin it everywhere now. See that, babe? Snagged yerself a winner, ya did,” he teases Dawn while nuzzling into her cheek.

Rolling her eyes she pokes him to get him back on topic. “So you flew to Baltimare?”

“Oh, right, sorry. Yep. They had me change my colors before they flew me off. I went with an off-white coat and a light brown mane and tail. I didn’t bother hiding my mark; nopony paid any attention to me and they had me in a gown once I landed anyhow and slapped a fake horn on under it so I looked like a young unicorn. The flight was really short and the transport they provided was enclosed, so it wasn’t too bad.”

“I’ve heard it can get bumpy in the air for some reason,” Solar says.

“You went alone?” Dawn asks. “Nopony went with you?”

“Nurse Gentle did. They had another nurse come in to cover while we were gone. It was only like an hour or so total.” Looking up to the older colt he explains, “What you’re thinking of is called air turbulence, Solar. That’s only when you’re way higher or there’s bad weather, I think. It was noisy from the wind, but that’s all.

“Nurse Gentle lives up to her name. She laid across the bench and kept a foreleg around me to hold me to her chest and belly the whole trip. Them’s good snuggles, I tell ya. Anyhow, so I get there and meet with some other hospital bigwigs and a couple of their surgeons I’ll be working with. The Chief Physician, Dr. Care, ran the show yesterday, and show is the right word. They turned the whole thing into a big damn spectacle.”

“It’s kind of a big deal, Cure,” Solar rolls his eyes and says.

“I know, I know. It’s just, ya know, to me it’s like… I coulda walked up to the dude on the street, we coulda sat on a bench for a minute or two, and gone our separate ways and accomplished the same thing.”

Cure blows out a deep sigh.

“So after havin this poor unicorn sign all these privacy forms and disclaimers and waiver or whatever they bring me into the OR… err, that’s operating room, in case you didn’t know,” both roll their eyes, so they did know, “shattap, anyhow, the dude’s sittin there on the surgical table and I’m like, ‘He does realize we’re not cutting on him or anything, right?’ and the minder freaks out because I’m not supposed to talk even though I barely whispered it anyhow.”

Snout scrunched adorably in confusion, Dawn asks, “Why?”

“So that nopony can recognize my voice. I had changed it and there’s no way he heard me, but either way, ya know? So they have this diagnostic tech specialist unicorn that’s supposed to be projecting everything and Dr. Care’s all telling me what’s wrong and how it should look and all this crap even though I literally showed her I know all this last weekend.

“Well I didn’t want to give a bad impression, so I kinda played along with everything and let Dr. Care tell me what to do. I basically sat beside her and put a hoof on the patient and did everything from there. She has her horn glowing and is describing what she… or I… am doing, so nopony even looked my way. I guess they assumed I was just following along or something.”

“Did she do a good job?”

“Oh yeah, babe. Absolutely. I mean, she’s absolutely brilliant, she doesn’t have the ability to do the fine manipulation like I can. The horn nerves and muscles are too complex and, apparently, the horn itself interferes with the unicorn spells somehow.

“She is the chief physician for a major metropolitan area, so she’s probably forgotten more medical stuff than I’ll learn in a decade. I really need to check my ego, sometimes, honestly. When you can do something nopony else can… Well, it’s easy to get a big head, I suppose.”

“Smart move doing that, Cure. That’s very mature for a colt your age.”

“Thanks dude. I mean, I never would, but I could have walked in, busted out the Illusion crystal, gave the guy a tap, and fixed his horn in like a minute, but that would have been a complete dick move and pissed off a lot of ponies I’ll eventually probably work with, not to mention crapped all over the anonymity that Iinsisted on.

“The best thing to do is to trust the hospital executives and do what I’m told when and how they say to do it. I mean, I know how that sounds, but if something happens then it’s not my mess to clean up if I was doing what they told me to do.”

“So the pony was able to use his horn?” Dawn asks.

“He sure was. And frankly, I was thankful for Care’s presence right then and there. The stallion was so busy hugging and crying all over her I was able to make my escape with him probably forgetting I was there at all. The way the hospital did it was really smart; it seemed like she was simply explaining what she was doing the whole time when really she was telling me how it should look, even though I knew, and she knew I knew, exactly what to do.”

“And you just… left afterwards?” Dawn asks.

“You bet, I left the room right away. The whole point was to deflect attention away from me. The stallion knew I was there, but he had no idea it wasn’t Dr. Care doing her thing. He probably figured I was some apprentice or whatever, which is true. Nopony is gonna look at the young colt in a room full of qualified surgeons anyhow, ya know?

“We had a meeting afterwards where we talked about the operation and did the notes, but that’s all standard procedure. They were very happy with everything and I had no complaints, so it was pretty brief. I figure they keep it short since, ya know… eight year old colt, short attention span, whatever.

“Really it went great and I felt… I don’t want to sound corny here, but I felt a sense of accomplishment that I’ve barely felt for like two months. It was, pardon the phrase, magical. They’re wanting to bring in a pegasus in a few weeks once they’re sure everything with the unicorn turned out fine. He’s doing some kind of testing and horn therapy or whatever right now.”

“That’s amazing. Simply amazing, Cure,” Solar praises. Laying a hoof on Cure’s withers he continues, “I have to give ya credit, you’re really doing good with that. You’ve changed that pony’s entire life with that one little act.”

Dawn leans over and gives him a kiss on his cheek, then nuzzles into him.

“Totally worth it,” he agrees with a smile.

“Heya sport, how’d it go?” Deed calls out as the three pile in the house. Vines is using his right haunches as a pillow, turned opposite of him with her right side leaning into him. Title is leaning on his left side reading and looks up when the three walk in.

“Not bad! We had a tiny incident when we left the hobby shop but we got everything we needed plus a couple mid level crystals for six fifty each!”

“Hmm…” Title hums, looking at the unicorns’ incredulous looks, “somethin tells me whatever happened is a bit more than that.”

“Yeah, son, Solar looks a smidge worn out there. Come in and take a load off, you two,” he says, waving to Vines’ and Cure’s unoccupied cushions. “Thirsty, Solar? Dawn?”

“Thank you, but I’m fine,” Solar replies, levitating the gems out of his bag, setting it on a hook by the door, then relaxing on the cushion facing the trio.

Dawn floats the ink off of Cure’s back, then empties her bag and, after Cure jerks his head at her brother, leans into his left side while snuggling against him on the cushion. Cure joins on the other side a moment later, squishing the older colt in a foal sandwich and giving the colt a reassuring nuzzle.

Title looks at the three and asks, “So… what did Cure do?”

Turning away, Cure lets out an indignant huff while complaining, “Everypony’s all quick ta blame me around here. Like I ever cause trouble…” he grumbles.

“Eh, he’s actually innocent of this one, mostly. We had a couple ponies step out…”

Solar gives the parents the full, unedited version of events, then looks down at Cure asking, “You never did say what that sneeze was. Some kinda drug?”

“Magically enhanced wasp venom. I need to use way less next time, though. Another ten seconds and they’d both been pushin up daisies. I’ll tell ya, my cutie mark don’t play when I pull up a venom and say ‘tweak this for an instant knock-out’ cause woo-doggy… those two were out in an instant.”

Deed lets out an impressed whistle, “Damn, son. Way to give ‘em Tartarus. They gonna be okay?”

“Yeah, they’ll feel perfectly fine once that stunner wears off. I removed all evidence from their coats and outta their systems, that’s why they started waking up so fast.”

“I’m guessing we’re just moving on from the fact you almost killed two ponies with magic wasp venom?” Solar asks. When both awake parents shrug he rolls his eyes. “Well… I guess it’s not that dangerous as long as you’re there to heal them too.”

“No, not really. Even if their hearts had stopped for a couple minutes I coulda brought them back. Probably. I wouldn’t want to test it, but once blood starts moving with air in it everything kinda wakes back up, mostly, and I should be able to jolt anything that doesn’t. As long as I don’t damage their brains it’s all good.”

“Why have bro stun them instead of just waiting?”

“The guard doesn’t need to know I can do that. This way they’ll detect Solar’s magic on them, assuming they can, and will go along with what we said.”

“They can,” Solar explains, “They checked them all while we were chatting with the sergeant. How the hay did you know that?”

“Common sense? I figured there has to be a way to tell who cast what, so… yeah,” he trails off with a shrug. “I hope the stun spell blew off any traces of my magic on them. If not I’ll say I was making sure they were unconscious if anyone asks. They may be able to scrape the area and find some venom, but it’s harmless as long as nopony licks the ground or something. It’ll be gone next time it rains.

“Ah fudge… I scanned the mare in the alley after you stunned her. Oh well, good thing I was up front when the sergeant came.”

“When?” Solar asks. “I never saw you touch her.”

“Earth pony magic isn’t touch-only.”

“It’s not?”

“Nope. After about two meters it cuts off, though. If it was purely touch only we couldn’t make seeds grow once planted without shovin our hoof in the dirt. It gets fuzzy after a meter and a half, roughly but I do the touch thing so ponies know for sure when I’m using my talent.”

“Huh… not a bad idea, I guess.”

Dawn climbs up on Solar’s withers to look over him. “Why didn’t you use that instead of sneezing then?”

“Making changes to myself is almost free as far as magic use, also a lot faster. That way I could get them both at once, too.” Shadow boxing a couple hoof jabs with a big, triumphant smile he adds, “Besides, wasp venom sneeze blast! C’mon, that’s totally awesome!”

Deed starts chuckling while Title shakes her head in exasperation. “Colts…” she mumbles.

Solar huffs in annoyance, but Dawn nods in agreement. “It does sound like a hardflank move. How far could you shoot that?” She asks, getting a raised brow from her brother, who’s turned his neck to the right to look at her.

“As a mist? A couple meters, tops. I could lace a porcupine quill and shoot it further. I would need to practice my aim, though. A bone dart would probably go even further than that, especially if I made some kinda compressed air chamber to propel it, but I’d have to find a good dose or I could accidentally kill somepony with that.”

Cure drifts off in thought considering where on his body he could fit the structures to pull it off. The shoulders or pectorals would be a good spot, or perhaps there’s room for some kind of pop-up barrel over his haunches. Of course, aiming would be difficult, so a specialized eye stalk would probably be required to improve accuracy.

Solar gives the colt a shoulder bump, bringing him back from his daze. “Huh?”

“I asked if you needed to get anything else. We need to go home here soon. Our dam and sire will be getting dinner ready before too long.”

“Oh. Yeah, I’ll come into town with ya. I need to visit the ice cream shop and go to the hardware and garden stores.”

“Wanna take anything with you, Solar?” Title offers. “We have lots left even after selling everything at the market. We’re gonna need a bigger wagon so we can take more… Vines sells out in no time even when we load up.”

Solar pauses in consideration. Vines’ produce was exceptional and, according to Cure, the family replanted and did their magic ritual every weekend, so they’d always have plenty of food. “Sure, if you don’t mind. My parents will be thrilled. Thank you.”

“Cure, babe,” she starts, “why don’t you take the little cart with you and grab whatever Dawn and Solar would like? Do you want me to come with you?”

“Nah, don’t worry about it, ma. I can manage it just fine.” Cure stands and heads for the stairs calling, “Give me a second to grab a few more bits. I didn’t plan on going back into town today,” as he disappears up the stairs.

“Are you two okay?” Deed asks, legitimate concern on his face. “The colt’s thinkin ain’t like most ponies, so I know he’s fine.”

“He seemed to think it was kinda funny…” Solar says. “I’m fine though. Cure’s been putting me through what he calls ‘mental conditioning’ at the range so I don’t freeze when things happen. He didn’t even let that mare finish her sentence before he knocked ‘em both out, though.” Turning to give his sister a nuzzle he asks, “How are you, sissy? You alright?”

Scoffing, she chuckles a few times. “Am I okay? It was over before I even realized what was happening. I’m fine.”

“Talk to your sire about it,” Title suggests, cutting off when Cure comes down the stairs.

“Good advice,” he agrees. “Feel free to give him the unedited version. I don’t think he’ll tell Bulwark, but even if he does I’m not too worried about it. It’s healthy to talk about these things,” he insists. Looking at the pair he asks, “You two ready?”

Dawn climbs off of Solar with a nod. Solar stands, calling farewells and thanks over his withers as the three go out to the garden.

“Pick out whatever you’d like. I’ll get the cart on,” he instructs, waving to the garden. The harness is too big for Cure, but he’s able to hold it in place with his TK. It looks a little silly, but given Cure’s shopping list he’ll need it.

After selecting a decent variety of produce and thanking Cure repeatedly the three start their trek into town. Solar can’t help but notice that Cure seems to be looking around more than normal, almost like he’s expecting them to be followed.

“Dawn, can you please cast a Sound Bubble?” She gives him an odd look, but does so anyway. In a low voice, Cure explains, “I wanted to talk to you both about something, but I’ve not really been sure how to broach the subject.”

“That’s not ominous,” Solar notes.

“It’s nothing bad, I promise. It’s this experiment I’ve been testing that I told you won’t be done until April.”

“What about it?” Dawn asks.

“I’ve confirmed that, at least to some degree, it makes a difference. I can reduce my effective mass by a lot. I’m guessing 70% or more. I’ve nearly converted all of the cells in my body that are responsible for an earth pony’s TK field into the hybrid cells. As you’ve both seen, my magic regeneration is completely unfair, even if my capacity is lacking, and you certainly noticed my TK field isn’t any weaker when I jumped on you two weeks ago.”

The older colt feels a touch of annoyance at Cure over that spider fiasco, but he knows it was just the colt’s way of treating him like an older brother. “Right,” Solar agrees as both he and Dawn nod.

“I don’t want to do anything big until my experiment is concluded, but if either of you are interested I don’t see the harm in bringing you up to ten or twenty percent conversion slowly over the next few weeks. I would prefer to do it at the same rate I am; half of a percent per day, and also be present for the next half hour or so in case either of you have a negative reaction.

“My only concern, especially with you, Solar, is that you may accidentally show off at Basic by doing something a unicorn normally cannot do. I think ten percent should be safe; your TK level would be at roughly what a pegasus normally is. Still enough to be noticed unless you’re careful, but you’d also be very cold-resistant and, if you can get the visual right, able to lighten yourself and vastly increase your jump distance.”

“Definitely!” Dawn shouts. “I hate being cold, and the other stuff sounds awesome too! Does this mean we’ll be able to get strong like an earth pony?”

Waving a hoof to quiet the filly down, despite the Sound Bubble, he replies, “I think so. The only metaphysical ability that earth ponies seem to have is our plant growing thing. I’m sure there’s things a pegasus can do that I’ll never be able to also; I suspect weather control or some of the cloud shaping stuff since the aura we all have mitigates lightning to some degree and definitely is responsible for their mass thing.”

“What about unicorns?” Solar asks, “It seems like, for once, we actually end up getting the short end of the stick.”

“My guess? I’m betting you just have more magic. Period. It’s like this, I figure unicorns’ “system” is more open, in that anypony with a horn can access what you guys got. The flip side is that, if you invest the time and effort, a unicorn can come up with something to mimic literally anything else too. Unicorn magic is kinda like… I dunno, the universal key or something, but you gotta know how to use it to really open all the doors.”

“That… seems plausible, I suppose. Good analogy.”

“Yeah, I’m kinda proud of that one too,” Cure says with a happy smile. “So we talked previously about how with the hybrid thing I’m almost kind of like an alicorn junior, sort of. Well that’s not completely wrong, but obviously She literally can do everything any of us can do just naturally, including all the crap on the metaphysical side that one of us would have to come up with a spell to mimic.”

“Huh. You spend a lot of time thinking about stuff, don’t you?”

“All the time, Solar. I spend all the time thinking about stuff. So… my only concern is whether or not I have enough magic to do a half percent of each one of your cells. It doesn’t sound like much, but when you do the math it’s actually like hundreds of billions of cells at once that I’m permanently transmuting, even if it’s just a part of ‘em.”

“Maybe only do Solar for now,” Dawn suggests, “He’s only got a month and a half before he has to go.”

“You sure, sis?”

“Definitely,” she confirms with a nod. “There’s no rush for me at all.”

“I’m willing to try if you’re certain, Cure.”

“Well… now’s the best time. We have another fifteen minute walk. I can hang out for a few minutes while you all put the groceries away before I have to run a few errands. Here, let’s step off the path a second.”

The two follow Cure off to the side of the path where they won’t be interrupted.

“Alright Solar, gimme a sec,” he says as he takes the harness off. It only takes a moment since it wasn’t really fastened onto him in the first place. Setting it on the ground, he leans into Solar’s side and begins his work.

Solar can feel Cure’s magic at work. The capacity isn’t very high, but just like when the colt had fixed up his knees the direct application of another pony’s magic in his body is a little weird. Still, he knows and trusts Cure and does everything in his power to lower whatever metaphysical protections he can imagine to make Cure’s job easier.

After several minutes Cure finally comes out of his trance looking quite a bit more tired than Solar normally sees him, even after going wild at the range. Dawn nuzzles into his other side and noses at his cheek to bring him out of his stupor.

“Ugh… working on other ponies sucks when you can’t use their magic.”

“Are you sure you can’t? I mean… not to make it weird, but I basically think of you as a little brother.”

“Aww, thanks dude,” he replies, giving the older colt’s shoulder a nuzzle. “We’ll definitely try next time. I think the bond that’s needed takes a while to establish, but who knows? What happens if it doesn’t work?”

“It just doesn’t work, I assume. Normally when unicorns are sharing energy like that it’s during a spell, though, and the runes support the flow of energy.”

“Is there a way to flat out share power without casting a spell?”

“Mmm… I don’t think so. The magic isn’t actually going into the caster during a spell like that; it’s being fed into the spell itself and the caster is directing the magic. That’s why your whole group casting thing is unusual. Without a focus the only way I can figure that’s working is, like you said, due to the close bond… probably more on the metaphysical side than emotional since that’s where the magic is happening.”

“Right, that’s my theory too. I figure a bond like that probably takes a year or two since the ponies really have to see each other as, basically, family even on a subconscious level, and I’ve only known my mom a little over three years now, so it has to be less than that. I didn’t really start thinking of her as “mom” until a couple years back.”

“Well if you’re theorizing you must have already recovered some. I can tell you do stuff like this a lot… I’d probably be a drooling mess if I ran myself dry like it felt like you did. How far did you get?”

“I got to a half of a percent. Barely. It seemed to get a little easier half way through, thankfully. Keep in mind you probably won’t be able to tell a difference at all until at least five percent. I’ll have to teach you how to think “light” too, but I’m betting the first thing you’ll notice is your acceleration and stop speed increasing since you can grab the ground harder.”

“Well I may not be able to share my magic with you, but it sounds like I could at least lower some kind of defense, because about half way through is when I imagined my magic trying to help you as best it could.”

“Huh. Cool. Something to note when it’s your turn, Dawn.”

Dawn looks over the colt again. He seems almost back to normal already; maybe just a little more tired looking than normal. “Are you sure you’re okay, Cure?”

“Yep. Good to go. We better get movin too, I got lots to do today. Good thing the ice cream parlor is on my list; I could go for a chocolate shake. Dawn, maybe I can do your thing in the morning before school, then spend the day recharging before doing Solar in the evening after work. You’re a lot smaller, so it won’t wear me out as much.”

Solar had levitated the harness onto himself before Cure could get to it, and insisted he can at least pull the cart while thanking Cure profusely the whole way.

When Solar went a full thirty minutes without detonating or keeling over, Cure felt confident enough to say his goodbyes and take off for his next stop; the ice cream parlor where he planned on buying Heavy a year’s supply of free sundae coupons. And himself a snack.

He hadn’t told the siblings, but he was trying to get most of his Hearth’s Warming shopping done at once.

Normally foals didn’t buy presents for friends; only close adults did that. Foals can typically expect a present from parents and maybe another visiting relative, but the holiday just hadn’t been commercialized like it was for humans.

Either way, Cure treasures his friends and looks forward to seeing their excitement when they open their presents. Few memories bring him more joy than the those of his kids or granddaughter screaming and leaping on him on Christmas morning.

He’ll never forget Josh’s reaction when he opened an XBox about a month after they very first came out. The hysterical ten year old was so excited he had to be called back down to open the last few presents before he tore off to his room to hook the unit up. It made the nuisance of getting the damn thing worthwhile.

Ed had taken Thursday off of work and spent Wednesday night holding a numbered, red raffle ticket while camped out waiting for his turn to be let in Best Buy after midnight. Thankfully it was a somewhat mild November evening and the other people in line turned it into an impromptu nerdfest. Sadly, the store’s management team took forever, so he didn’t get home until almost three in the morning.

Cyndi’s display of her appreciation the next evening made it completely worthwhile. Diamonds may do the trick for some, but going out of the way for her kids was more than enough for her.

Cure shakes himself out of the happy memory as he approaches the supply store he’d come to with his dam a few months prior. After parking his cart he goes in and heads straight for the seed selection. After picking out a variety of perfumey flower seeds including honeysuckle, jasmine, lavender, and, of course, lilies he picks two large, ornate pots and asks for a couple 20 kg bags of potting soil.

Purchases complete and loaded, his next stop is the town bookstore. As expected, the store didn’t have what he wanted in stock, but the clerk took his order for a six volume set of books detailing everything a budding smith could want on designs of weapons and armors developed since just after the country’s founding. Cure paid the extra few bits to ensure early delivery and was told to come back in a few weeks.

Next Cure went to the only appliance store in town and got his parents’ gifts ordered. The refrigerator itself is a lot less expensive than he’d expected, probably because it’s just a well insulated box with runic or enchantment lines running throughout it. Almost the entire price are the enchanted crystals; two mid-low with a chilling effect in one and the food preservation in the other.

The oven/stove combination unit was a little more advanced and, in all likelihood, a better unit than even modern humans can produce. The runic patterns inside the oven ensure quick and even heating throughout the unit and the upgrade to a four-burner stove top won’t be unwelcome. The biggest challenge was finding a unit that fits right in the same spot the current one does.

Ponies don’t eat a whole lot of hot meals, but between baked goods, pastas, casseroles, soups, and the occasional fish filet Cure can easily justify spending more than is necessary, given his ridiculous income.

He knows they’ll probably be house hunting by the summer at the latest, but that’ll just give him an excuse to buy his dam something nice again in about seven months. The best present he can think of for his birthday is a big smile and a warm hug from his favorite mare in the whole world, after all.

A quick stop in a beauty shop on the way home was his last one for the day. The clerk was certainly a little surprised to have a colt, especially an earth pony, buy three sets of fine grooming brushes for a pegasus along with a couple feather oil products. She wasn’t going to say anything, though, when Cure tossed a stack of bits on her counter, thanked her, and happily trotted out the door.

Dinner finished and nightly cleaning taken care of, the family had piled up in the living room for their typical cuddle session. Cure is sitting in front of the three with a filled planter and his stack of seeds, obviously deep in thought.

“So, you get all your shopping done, sweetie?”

“About half. By the way, I’ll be doing a few things before and after my appointments tomorrow, dam, so don’t expect me home until just before dinner.”

“Okay, that’s fine. I hope you aren’t planning on spending a lot on me.”

“Me too, champ,” his sire calls, planting a kiss on each wife’s cheek. “I got everythin I need right here.”

“Go ahead and spend their portions on me, Cure. I’m fine with that.”

“Too late, mom. I’ve already taken care of shopping for the family.”

“Damn. So what are these going to be?”

“Well back when my friends and I were messing around after the Running of the Leaves I got to talkin with Glacial…”

“Oh? You mentioned timing each other but I don’t remember you saying anything about a private chat with your crush,” she teases.

“Yep, totally crammed my hoof in my mouth like a moron too. Oh well, it wasn’t a bad slip at least.”

With a big grin, Title leans forward and pokes him with her hoof. “Let’s hear it, Cure!”

The other two are paying attention too, so Cure explains, “Dawn and Drift were having some argument and Dawn made some quip about Drift’s attitude; something about her havin a bent primary or whatever. I was standing by Glacial and asked if that actually happens. She told me no, then spread a wing to show me which the primaries are and why they don’t typically get bent unless they crash. I… uhh… complimented them.”

“Son, we ain’t playin this game again. You tell yer moms what ya said afore I bop ya one,” Deed threatens, waving a hoof at Cure. It ends up getting him a jab in the shoulder and a glare from Vines.

“She fanned a wing in front of me. Before I could even stop myself I blurted out ‘Damn your wings are gorgeous.’ She froze for a second then giggled and teased me by waving them in front of me. I was… somewhat captivated.” Looking up in thought he mutters, “Mmm… Uhura feather dance…”

“Aww! That’s adorable, sweetie! That probably made her whole day.”

“Yeah, Cure. Mares love genuine, unintentional compliments like that. I certainly wouldn’t be upset if somepony,” she says, scowling at Deed, “couldn’t help but point out how radiant I am.”

“Aww babe! That ain’t fair! I tell ya yer beautiful all’a the time!”

“Those don’t count!” she insists, turning away with a huff. “They’re not accidental!”

“Uhh… wait, what?” The poor stallion seems to be legitimately confused about how to intentionally, accidentally compliment his wife. In his defense, Cure is stumped too.

Leaning close Cure whispers, “Show her how much ya love her, dummy.”

With her enhanced hearing she can obviously hear every word, but Title still plays coy when Deed climbs on her withers and growls into her ear while massaging her shoulder and neck and giving her loving nips and kisses.

Vines watches with a fond smile, then turns back to Cure. “Do you need help with the plants, sweetie?”

“I’m going to, yes, but not until I can think how they should look.”

“Why not just replace the flower itself?”

“Eh… I kinda want the flowers to be there, I’m wanting to add an oil filled and scented bulb too.”

“That sounds kinda like your tree, but with oil instead of a vaccine.”

“Sorta, maybe. Way, way less complicated though since it doesn’t have to react to outside stimuli like the tree will. These have way less features, overall. They’re still going to be the same flower, mostly, but with the oil bulbs added on. Maybe I need to do four separate plants instead of trying to merge them.”

“You should be able to fit four flowers in those big pots you got.”

“Yeah… that’s probably the best way to go about it. Thanks dam.”

“Sure, sweetie. Let me know when you’re ready for us to help.”

“You bet, dam.” Cure starts with the honeysuckle. Popping a couple seeds in his mouth, he mushes them up while considering what properties of the plants he is trying to bring to the forefront, and which features he’ll have to borrow from other plants that he’s encountered.

The flowers will need to be cold resistant since they will spend most of their time in the cloud houses half a kilometer off the ground. Cure’s immediate thought is something like a coniferous tree, but he wants leaves, so a northern tree like maple would be better, and he has a full scan of the one right in his backyard. He instructs his magic to isolate the properties that make a tree cold resistant and apply them to the seed he’s developing.

Next he needs to come up with a way for the oil to be produced. His original plan is to have bulbs grow similar to his cherry tomatoes, only filled with the desired oil instead of the sugars and seeds normally in the fruit. Given the weight of the liquid, Cure thinks it would be best to have a tougher, wooden stem to support the bulbs.

Ed’s parents had a house that faced north, so his mom always planted shade plants in the front flower beds. Hostas are big, leafy plants that don’t need much sunlight. As an added bonus the flowers they produce grow on taller, wood-like stems. With the proper visual for the bulb stems and leaf shape locked in he commits the change to the seed.

When he thinks of “oil” and “plant” the first thing that comes to mind is poison ivy, but he’s definitely not interested in mass producing the rash-inducing allergen itself. At least, not for this project. Still, the leafy plant has the oil producing leaves he thinks will be a nice addition, so he adds that property into the mix, careful to exclude anything that would be undesirable in the final result such as the ease with which the plant spreads or the aforementioned allergen in the oil.

Focusing on the oil itself, he concentrates on his scans from various bird species; specifically ducks and other waterfowl. The oil should be thin and easily spread, completely hydrophobic, shine bright in the sun, antibacterial, antifungal, safe to eat, and healthy for the skin; all of which are properties of the product extruded from ducks’ glands.

With the addition of the scented flower oils in small quantities it should result in a floral, aromatic version of the waterfowl’s extrusion.

If the wooden stems’ internal composition is lined with oil producing membranes and veins to carry the product up and into the fruit it grows then it should be able to produce a bulb or so worth per day, which hopefully will be enough. If not, he can always make another couple plants.

Regardless, ensuring he’s covered the basics, Cure pieces the seed together while maintaining the image of the unusual looking honeysuckle flower. The final product is a seed just barely larger than what he started with. He repeats the process with the other three flowers, then clones each seed.

Once done he gives each one another adjustment to ensure they have no means of reproducing whatsoever. The resulting flower should not produce seeds, shoots, pollen, or spread by any other means. If they die then the only way they can be replaced is by him doing so manually.

Cure plants one of each seed in the planters and turns back to his parents. All three are watching him, so he quickly trots to the kitchen, fills a big bowl with water, dumps it in one of the pots, does the other, and waves at the planters saying, “They should be all set. Wanna give ‘em a jolt and see what we get?”

“Sure, sport.” Deed climbs off of Title and approaches a planter. “You ready, babe?”

“Yep. Title, honey?” she asks over her withers as she sits directly in front of the planter, touching haunches with Deed in his left. “Are you ready?”

“I’m here. One sec,” she responds, moving to sit on Vines left, also touching hips.

“Fire when ready, dam.”

The three harmonize their magic, and with Vines gaining experience over the months she, instead of blasting it everywhere, directs it down her leg, through her hoof, and into the pot. All four plants grow quickly. It’s like Cure is watching a stop-motion picture over the course of three months.

The extra moisture is absorbed into the plants along with, presumably, almost all of the nutrients in the soil, but the end result is four full bouquets, each with a central stalk covered in a dozen cherry tomato sized bulbs sitting in the middle of the plants.

He quickly scans each plant and verifies that, at the very least, the oil should be what he was looking for and they do not have any way to spread. Presumably his magic did its thing as far as the hardiness and cold-resistance, but he’ll have to leave the plants outside for a few days to see how that works out.

“Awesome! I think it worked perfectly.” Looking up and down the stalks full of oil he can’t help but whistle in appreciation. “Wow… that’s probably way more than they normally go through in a month. Oh well, I doubt that’ll be a problem. Their dams will probably love this stuff too,” he says, plucking a “fruit” of each type. He grabs a leaf and runs it against his coat. It does leave behind a bit of a shine, and the smell is quite nice, if a little girly.

“I bet one of the pegasus EMTs at work can tell me if this stuff is any good. Thanks, mom, dam, dad,” he says, giving each a quick hug. “I’ll need something to pour these in.”

“I have some preservative jars you can use,” Vines says, moving towards the kitchen. “You may need to grab a few of the fruits, though.”

“Cool, thanks. Umm…” he pauses, looking at the dried out soil. Deed and Title have both gone back to flop on their cushions snuggled together again.

“I’ll take care of the dirt in this one while you’re at school, honey. They’ll be fine for tonight.”

“Perfect! Thanks, dam!” he calls after her. “Hey I just had a thought,” he mumbles, causing Deed and Title to warily turn his way. Ignoring the concerned looks he asks, “Can either of you think of any reason not to use this stuff too? It’s probably better than any coat oil you could find at the store.”

After the pair blow out relieved sighs, Deed scratches at his chin in thought. “Dunno, son. Maybe if ya find a good stalliony scent instead them marey flowers.”

“Definitely. Hey mom, this sounds kinda weird, but do you mind bein a sniff tester for a minute? Nothin gross, I promise.”

Looking a little unsure, Title hesitantly nods. “I guess… I don’t suppose you’ve scanned any fancy trees like sandalwood or rosewood, have you?”

“No, but I’ve scanned a lot of fruits and spices and stuff, here… try this,” he says, holding out a fetlock with a mixture of cinnamon and orange.

“Oh! That’s nice! Add some vanilla in there too.”

“I haven’t scanned a vanilla bean yet. Maybe we can get some next time we’re in Baltimare. I need to make a trip back to Early’s at some point anyhow.”

“Aww… oh well, it’s still nice. When we all go to your grandsire’s next Sunday we’ll hit a few flower shops and maybe a fancy grocery store that’ll have more samples for ya. For now try pine. I bet that would be good too.”

Vines, back from the kitchen with a few jars stuck to her side, comes over to join in. “That does smell nice, sweetie. I bet the fillies will absolutely love that too,” she suggests, eyes lighting up.

“Yeah probably. Maybe I can just have a tiny hint of it in my mane. The nice glossy shine is what I was mainly thinking about, though. Hmm… I’ll experiment with the oil gland idea and let you all know when I have it working right. For now, I have one more thing I need to do before bed but I doubt you want me to do it here.”

“What is it, sweetie? A surprise for somepony?”

“Yeah but that’s not why. You know how those spinnerets look on your frogs?” At her confused nod he continues, “I’m going to try extruding an entire sheet of silk at once… I’ll be turning my whole side into one long series of spinnerets and it’s going to take a lot of practice to get it right, so… yeah, it’ll probably be pretty gross looking.”

Title gives Cure an odd look and asks, “How the hay are you going to make it into sheets?”

“I got a few books at the library today about sewing. One goes into detail about how thread is turned into sheets on a loom. It’ll be slow going, but I think I can reproduce the effect as I go by passing a thread up and down my body length while I extrude out threads. I think I can attach some ganglia to the arms and basically train the muscles to work automatically.”

“I have no idea what a ganglia is.”

“Singular would be ganglion. Ganglia is plural. Think of it like a tiny brain, but instead of being able to think it can do a specific task. It’s like muscle memory, just with a dedicated unit, so way better. I’ve been experimenting with them for a couple weeks, especially in my horn bump. Once I train it for a while I only have to think ‘Light’ and it casts the spell with whatever parameters I want. I don’t have to consciously picture the runes at all anymore.”

“Gimme!” she demands.

Rolling his eyes he explains, “I can, but first I wanted to make sure it all worked right first. I’ll need to spend some time with you to show you how to turn it on, off, or put it in ‘training’ mode. They’re great for precision stuff. I bet I could use the actual enchanting machine that way.”

“Could you learn to play an instrument with them?” she eagerly asks.

“Umm… yeah. Probably nearly flawlessly too after a while. That’s an interesting idea, mom. Is there an instrument you’ve always wanted to learn?”

“Oh my stars! If your sire knew the saxophone I woulda mounted him the first day right there in the office!”

“Title!” Vines yells.

“Gross. Well, that aside, I need to get started on figuring this out. It’s gonna take a few hours, though once I get a working model I should be able to go pretty fast… a couple centimeters a minute maybe.”

“Just do it here; I wanna watch.”

“Really? Dam are you okay with that?”

“I’ve had them on my frogs for a month now. I don’t mind.”

“True… okay.”

“Not gonna ask yer pa, champ?”

“Sorry dad, married stallions don’t get opinions on things. You shoulda got that memo almost a decade ago.”

“Ah… so that’s what I was signin. Shoulda paid more attention.”

“Yep, that’s how they get ya.” With a sigh Cure trots to his cushion, lays down, and focuses on his mark. “Alright… let’s give this a whirl.”

Monday, November 17th, 908 AB (the next afternoon, after school)

“Ferric, Heavy, I’ll see you two tomorrow. Me ‘n Coast are doing a little shopping, so we’ve gotta head into town.”

“You’re… going shopping? With Coast?”

“Yeah, dude, I need help picking out some stuff for my dam and mom. You wanna come look at jewelry with us?”

“Can I come?”

“Of course, Shine. I didn’t know you liked that stuff. Heavy, if ya wanna come that’s fine too.”

“No thanks, Cure. I’ll see ya later.”

“Later dude,” he calls out with a wave. “C’mon Red, let’s go get the girls. We’re going to yer dam’s store, so I shoulda invited ya anyhow. Sorry,” he says, giving her a quick nuzzle and turning to catch up with the girls.

Dawn, Sapphire, Rising, and Coast are waiting up ahead so the two canter a bit to catch up. “Hello my lovelies. The dumb colt back there said he didn’t want to spend the next hour looking at pretty gems,” he starts as they trot into town, “of course I’m always thrilled to see you all,” he says, waggling his eyebrows with a big smile.

All five fillies giggle at his flirting. Dawn’s the first to recover, of course, being on the receiving end most often. “I’m not sure most colts would ask a bunch of fillies to take him to a jewelry store, babe. I know you can make changes… is there something you need to tell me?” she asks, giving him a challenging look.

“Oof!” Sapphire laughs out with a wince, “Dawn shows no mercy with a fireball to the gonads!” Rising and Coast both crack up but Ferric just blushes a deeper red than normal.

“Oh don’t worry,” he teases, “Everything’s where it should be, babe. We’re shopping for jewels for the family. You go somewhere else if yer worried about the family jewels,” he finishes with a wink, getting laughs from the girls and an eye roll from Dawn.

Midnight Gem and Diamond Pick have a store just a few blocks into town. It’s near all the other shops, just south of the train station and close to Lemon’s store and a couple blocks west of Town Hall. Cure would have taken care of this yesterday, but the jewelry store isn’t open on Sunday evenings and he wanted to get the girls’ input anyhow.

The group makes their way into the store finding Midnight Gem busy with a customer. Ferric splits off from the group to give her dam, Diamond Pick, a nuzzle and the two start talking. Rising, Coast, and Dawn all start looking around. They don’t notice, but everything they stop and stare at is noted by Cure.

“So I have an hour before my first appointment. Saph, I don’t know anything about jewelry boxes, but I’d like to get a nice one for my dam. Do you have any recommendations here?”

“Oh absolutely! Does she have a lot of jewelry?”

“Hmm… I don’t see her wear much but I know she’s got a few pieces from before I was born. Are there any here you’ve been thinkin about getting? I trust you know better, what with your dam running the store and all.”

“Definitely! I’ve been trying to get my dam to let me have one of these,” she says, pointing out a nice, dark wooden unit with a number of drawers and cabinets that open on both sides. “It’s got lots of room for earrings, necklaces, leg bands.” She looks over her withers and leans in to whisper. “It comes with inserts for horn jewelry too!”

“Hmm… I’m not sure my dam needs that, but it sounds great anyhow. I’ll take it!”

“Great! I’ll set it over by the counter for ya! My dam should be done soon. In fact, it looks like she’s just finishing up. C’mon!”

Sapphire tosses a box on her back and leads Cure to Midnight just as the mare she was helping thanks her and turns to leave. She gives her mom a nuzzle, passes her the jewelry box with a proud smile while explaining how she got a sale, then goes to join the other fillies.

“Well hello, Cure. How have you been? I’ve heard business is booming thanks to a certain pegasus filly. I certainly can’t complain, either,” she says with a titter.

“That’s awesome, Mrs. Gem! It was a little scary having my house swarmed by all those pegasi, but I’ll tell ya, business has been insane.” Pausing for a moment, he glances to the fillies, then leans in close to whisper. “I’m glad Saph went over with the others. She’s right that I’m doing some holiday shopping, but what I didn’t tell her is that the jewelry box she picked out is what I’m getting her for Hearth’s Warming.”

At Midnight’s confused look he explains, “I don’t know anything about this stuff so I told her I wanted a nice box for my dam and asked which she’d buy for herself. I was going to ask your help for the other girls too.”

“I’m looking to get Rising and Coast each a pretty set of earrings or something for around two hundred bits each, so I was wondering if you could help ‘em without them knowing and set something aside for each one. I’ve already ordered something for Ferric and this box is under a hundred, so I need something for her too. I’m trying to keep it even, ya know? I know you'll be better coming up with ideas than I possibly could. If you're willing to lend a hoof I can come by after work to pay for whatever they pick along with the box.”

“Well aren’t you clever? I don’t think I’ve seen anypony set up somepony to do their shopping for themselves. I’ll be happy to help. Two hundred bits each?” she confirms. “I’m sure I can help… I bet some nice, sparkly manebands would be perfect! Just leave it to me, sweetie.”

“Great! If you go a little over budget that's perfectly fine. I'd rather spend the couple extra bits for something really nice than fall just short.”

“I’ll keep that in mind, honey! I’m going to go help the girls. Don’t worry, I’ll give you a great deal, just like I promised, and I’ll find each something really nice!”

“Thanks Mrs. Gem!”

The appointments were quick tonight; two basic mane jobs and one more complex wing design. That worked out perfectly as Cure had a stop to make before returning to the jewelry store. Trotting into the only fancy clothing boutique in town, Cure was hopeful he was in the right place.

A unicorn mare with a dark yellow coat and a purple mane is behind the counter. She certainly looks like she stepped in something unpleasant when Cure walks in, but he writes that off figuring that young earth pony colts don't frequently come into her store, especially unaccompanied.

“Pardon me, ma’am, I’m hopeful you or somepony you know is a skilled seamstress? I have need of one with experience working with exquisite materials.”

The look changes into one of surprise and curiosity as Cure reaches into his pack to retrieve the ten centimeter square of the most dense, thick silk cloth he had ever seen.

The first sheet he created took over four hours to produce. The first two hours were figuring out the technical "how" part and making minor changes to the spinnerets, then he spent another two hours training the ganglia. Once set up, the actual sheet only took fifteen minutes to produce.

It was when he was proudly displaying the result of his work that his mom asked why he didn’t just basically roll a layer of skin off and transmute it since both skin and silk threads are basically sheets of proteins, just arranged very differently. He felt like a complete dumbass, having wasted four hours when he could have accomplished the same thing in about two minutes with a level of quality that would be flat out impossible otherwise.

The result is nearly a quarter of a millimeter thick and as smooth as polished glass with a weave that’s done on the molecular level. Cure has no idea how to turn it into the three outfits he’s wanting, but he’s hopeful he can hire somepony that can.

“May I have a look at that?”

“Yes ma’am. I have one more sheet like that with me, but I have a way of getting more, obviously.”

“This… is pure silk… and of exquisite quality. Where did you get this?”

“I know somepony with a way of making it because of their cutie mark. I can’t tell you any details. If I provided sheets of that would you be capable of using that in two flight suits and a winter outfit? The fillies I’m shopping for are all about my size. I have a way of giving you their exact measurements.”

“I can,” she explains, “and it’s a good thing you came in to place the order early. Having outfits custom-made is neither fast, nor cheap, you’re aware?”

“What if I provide double the needed material? You can use the remainder for some of the finest clothes anypony has ever seen.”

“Mmm… tempting but that won’t do me much good without an ongoing supply. No, I’m afraid this isn’t an option here. In your size with the material provided, the flight suits would be a hundred and fifty bits each; the winter outfit will be slightly more, depending upon what exactly you have in mind.”

“Oof… do you lay enchantment lines too?”

“Yes. Embroidered is an additional sixty per; inlaid doubles the outfits’ prices.”

“Embroidered will be fine. We’re all growing, so they may not even last a year.”

“If they outgrow them and they’re well cared for I would buy them back to resell.”

“Hrm. Well one has a younger sister, but the other two may be interested. We’ll see next year. So I’ll bring the material by tomorrow before school. I really only need to know how much you need. Do you have a form we need to fill out?”

“Measurements first, dearie. I need to know what I’m working with here.”

“Ah, right. One sec,” he says, digging into his pack for the Illusion crystal. “Okay, the highest priority is my fillyfriend, Dawn Glow,” he says, projecting a life-size illusion of the girl.

Author's Note

As a prelude to the excitement that is taxes, Cure goes holiday shopping!

WILL THE MADNESS EVER END?!?

Chapter 41: BOHICA

Monday, December 1st, 908 AB (14 days later)

“Taxes?” the mare asks, a single brow raised in question.

“Yes, Miss Apple. Remember I gave you the note on Friday?”

“You mean the one from before you left early that day too?”

“Yep. That’s the one.”

With an exasperated sigh she explains, “Honestly, Cure, it’s a little difficult for me to keep track of all your notes these days.”

“Sorry Miss Apple. I’m a very busy colt, ya know?”

“Yes, you are. Busy coming up with reasons to leave early, that is,” she agrees, getting a few snickers from the nearby foals. “If your grades weren’t what they are I’d be having a talk with your parents!” she declares, an accusing hoof pointed over her desk.

“My parents are the ones that are writing the notes!” he argues, forehooves thrown in the air.

After digging through a stack of papers she comes up with a small slip. “Yes, yes. I see it, right here,” she holds up the note in question, “Please excuse Cure Wave for the afternoon of Monday, December 1st. He has an appointment to do his taxes,” she reads aloud for anypony in earshot, then gives Cure a disbelieving look, “Signed Mrs. Title Search.”

“Yeah… she is my mom. Is there some part of that you believe is untrue?” he asks.

“Just the part where an eight year old colt would have any reason to be missing school to do taxes!”

“So… completely believable then?” he asks, getting a round of laughs from all of the foals listening in. “I’m… honestly not sure what to say, ma’am.” Leaning over her desk to whisper he explains, “I’ve made a lot of bits over the last six weeks since I started doing cosmetic work. I’m meeting my mom at Town Hall so we can go over the ledgers with a tax pony so I don’t end up getting a huge, unexpected bill later.”

“Cure,” she stars, rubbing at her forehead, “even if you have enough income to pay taxes you wouldn’t have to until March or so.”

“I know. You’re right but we’re just trying to be sure since this is my first quarter working and the demand for my services has been a lot higher than we expected. I don’t know how much I should be setting aside.”

“Oh my stars, will you just let him go!” Cure is certain that’s Sapphire’s voice calling out from somewhere in the room. “He’s rich!” She’s not completely wrong, sort of, but dammit Saph… there’s a time and a place. Preferably nowhere and never.

Looking past Cure, Miss Apple tries to find the culprit. All the other foals are sitting quietly and facing forward with innocent expressions. “Who said that?!?” When nopony replies Miss Apple lets out an inarticulate growl and focuses back on the shrugging, innocent-faced colt before her.

The room is completely silent until somewhere, somepony rips a total cheek-flapper tuba fart.

Pandemonium erupts as most of the class bursts out laughing, several foals scramble to get away, and one older yellow colt stands to take credit. “Sorry Miss Apple, when it gets all quiet like that I start getting anxious!” he shouts, doing a terrible job trying not to laugh.

“Roasted Almond! You will be staying after class, young stallion!”

“Uh oh,” he says, squeaking out a quieter, but longer fart. “I think I had too much cauliflower in my lunch,” he whines.

The poor teacher rubs her temples as the rest of the foals try to move further from the colt. Looking down at Cure she waves at the door. “Just… just go,” she sighs out. “I expect something showing me you actually went to the tax office, or this’ll be the last time!”

“Yes ma’am!” he shouts, then quickly slips on his saddle bags and heads out the door.

The trot to town hall only takes a few minutes and, as he approaches, he sees Title and Deed sitting on a bench waiting for him. “Hey pa, I didn’t know you were comin too.”

“He’s not,” she casually says.

“Yer ma’s right, sport. I’m just here makin sure no other stallions bug her while she waits for ya. You know how it is,” he says, wrapping a foreleg over her withers and casting suspicious looks about, “them mare chasers see this visage ‘a beauty lying here ‘n next thing ya know a dozen stallions are buyin out all’a the nearby flower shops.”

Cure has to hold back a laugh at his mom’s eye roll. Being the diligent son and all, he decides to play along. With a heavy southern twang he conjures up some watery eyes and asks, “But pa, what abouts all them other poor mares out there what ain’t as purty as ma is? How’s they gonna get flowers if’n mommas got ‘em all?”

Slowly shaking his head in disappointment, Deed answers, “Tragelicious as it may be, son, there ain’t nothin doin fer it. Imma here tryin ta help as best I can by standin guard, but now that yer here you gotta fill in fer me.”

“I dunno, pa.” Cure pauses and bites his bottom lip, looking around for a few seconds. “It sounds like a big responsibility.”

Deed climbs off the bench, walks next to the colt, and sits on his haunches. With all the seriousness he can convey, he reaches over, sets a hoof on Cure’s withers, meets his eyes, and insists, “I believe in ya, champ. You can do it!” he shouts, thrusting his other hoof in the air.

“If… if ya think I’m ready, pa. I won’t let ya down!”

“That’s mah colt!” he yells, shaking Cure side to side, “I knew ya wouldn’t, son!”

“Sweet Celestia, will you two shut up already?” Title grumbles, looking around at the passing ponies. At least a few heard enough of the exchange to get a chuckle out of the horrible overacting.

“Dammit, mare! We’re havin a moment here, can’t ya tell?”

“I’ll give ya a moment… I swear it’s like two foals every time you both get started. Now come on, I actually have to show my face around here occasionally and I don’t need you both embarrassing me. Go back to work, babe,” she says as she climbs down. She gives Deed a nuzzle and a peck on his cheek, then shoos him away saying, “you have that showing on the east side in an hour.”

“You got it, babe!” he quickly agrees, grabbing Cure up in a bone-bending hug before smooching him between the ears, dropping him, and trotting off. The pair watch him go for a moment in silence.

“Dad seems like he’s in a good mood today,” Cure observes as his sire practically skips down the street, greeting and waving at random strangers he passes by.

“You’re not the only one that did some accounting today,” she explains as she turns and starts walking to the front doors of city hall. “September was a game changer thanks to you,” she starts before Cure interrupts.

“Me nothin, ma. I just gave you two a little knowledge. You’re the ones that did the work. Give yourself the credit you deserve,” he insists, nuzzling into her side.

“Thanks, honey. Be that as it may, October blew every other month away, and even if the accounts haven’t all settled yet, November is even bigger. We took a risk having a foal and now everything’s working out better than we ever dared hope. Unless we can hire another agent we’re probably just about at capacity though.”

“Hmm. Are there any parts of what you or dad do that could be given to another pony? Dad seems to excel at the face to face part and your specialty is hunting down records. Is there a piece of the process I’m just not aware of that somepony else can do to reduce the amount of work for you two?”

Cure darts ahead to hold the door open while Title gives him a thankful nod and trots inside. The Town Hall building is, by a decent margin, the largest single building in the town of Golden Hills. The main floor is one big lobby area surrounded by offices and one large half-circle reception desk towards the back wall that has five workers serving as receptionists calling ponies up for whatever office or agency the pony is there to meet with.

There’s also a squad of runners that, upon the determination of where a pony needs to go, take the info from the receptionist, then run off to whatever area to inform them there’s somepony waiting and give them the basic who, what, and why that the pony is there.

The whole process is quite a bit more organized than Cure expected, and seems to run better than most government offices he had the unfortunate necessity to deal with in his memories.

“I guess maybe there’s some specific parts of the paperwork that I do okay at, but aren’t really my calling,” Title answers as they approach the short line to get a number. “Mostly accounting stuff. If ponies don’t already have a loan secured we have to sit down and go through all of their finances with them and help them submit a mortgage application to the bank, then take care of the back and forth there. Maybe we should look to hire somepony for that part specifically.”

Cure takes a second to look around. Posted on the wall on either end of the receptionist area is a list of the different offices they are serving. The list is fairly long and a few catch his attention such as Education, Water & Sewage, Parks, Guard Liaison, Court Services, Foal Services, Mayor’s Office, Public Assistance, Foal Support, Waste Management, and Family Planning. There’s another dozen or so different areas that are served by the desk, but the one they’re there for is Taxes & Revenue.

“I would suggest you and dad make a log book of some kind to record how many hours go into a sale, broken down by what the specific task is,” he explains. “You can figure out what the most time-intensive parts of the job are and, specifically, find the parts that neither of your talents directly match. From there consider hiring somepony for the ones that’ll give you the biggest return. Is there room in your office for another desk?”

Title weighs the idea as she walks up and grabs a wooden placard hanging off of a peg. Number 038. Cure looks up at the board and they’re currently serving 025, but they seem to be moving through ponies fairly quickly, so he’s confident it’ll be their turn in a few minutes.

Title sets the number on Cure’s back and the pair make their way to a waiting area with rows of slightly raised, cushioned benches. They’re not particularly comfy, he notes, but they’re covered in a faux leather material, likely to make it easy for them to clean.

“Yeah, even though we have one of the smaller offices there’s room for another desk. Two if we reorganize, I bet. We’ve talked a few times about trying to open an office in Baltimare since we came home from Canterlot, though, so we may just do that and make that our main office and just use this one for meeting ponies in Golden Hills.”

“That’s not a bad idea as long as you’re making enough to cover rent in both places. I’m betting the rent for office space here is pretty inexpensive though.”

“Yeah, it’s only three hundred and fifty bits a month, and that includes the facilities and whatnot.”

“I don’t really have a frame of reference, mom. I know I’m payin Lemon three hundred to use the room, but part of that is for her help finding customers and maintaining my appointment log. Three fifty is towards the upper end of what I’d expect if it’s a small office around here. I was expecting two fifty or less, honestly.”

“Supply and demand, honey. There’s not a whole lot of office buildings around. A lot of ponies run their business out of their home, especially when they’re getting started. Or they rent out an office in Baltimare so they can have exposure to the bigger market there.”

“I suppose. Is rent in Baltimare a lot more?”

“Not really. A similar office would only be about fifty bits more per month, but that’s because we don’t need any storefront space or anything. Just a sign on the wall so ponies know where to go to find us.”

“You may want to consider getting a storefront building, mom. Maybe not right away, but if business in Baltimare takes off and you end up hiring a few other ponies then having a big, fancy storefront with maybe pictures of some of the nicer homes you’ve sold would probably draw in a few more clients than you’d normally see otherwise.”

“Huh… that’s a neat idea. Is that something you’ve seen done before?”

“Yep. It wasn’t uncommon to see small storefronts even in shopping districts where you would think the service they’re offering doesn’t really belong in a shopping mall kind of area. It’s all about exposure, though. If ponies walk by Deed & Search Real Estate, LLC. a few times when they’re shopping then that name will pop in their head when they go to sell or buy a home too.”

“Hmm.” Title thinks for a moment, then leans over and plants a big kiss on Cure’s head right between his ears. “I tell ya, Cure, I wish I could just dive right into that brain ‘a yers sometimes. I’ll talk to your sire when we’re done here. Maybe tonight we can all sit down and talk about some of the ideas in that noggin.”

“Sounds good, ma, but it looks like we’re up next,” he says, pointing at the 037 that one of the receptionists is walking towards to change. The pair stand just as she yells out “ZERO THREE EIGHT. ZERO THIRTY EIGHT, PLEASE” and they make their way to the desk, Title passing the number placard to the receptionist.

Cure doesn’t pay much attention to the conversation. It’s pretty much exactly what he expects; Title gives their names, the purpose of their visit, and a duplicate of the ledger book she and Cure have kept over the last forty-some-odd days since Cure began offering cosmetic services publicly.

Of course, Cure’s been diligently keeping patient notes and copies of the waiver / work agreement forms in a filing cabinet. He doesn’t bother scanning all of that, but at the end of each week he does a weekly summary report that includes who, when, what, and how much they paid in case he’s ever questioned about it.

So far everypony’s been ecstatic with the results and, although he’s had an occasional grumble about his prices, he’s ensured they’re fair based on what Amethyst’s ability has indicated and what the competition charges. Given his more rural location compared to the offices in the city he can get away with offering slightly lower prices on some procedures.

With his talent he delivers better outcomes than it would be fair to expect from a typical doctor; something he can’t help but feel slightly guilty about. Still, with the limited number of ponies he can see in a day he’s not worried about running anypony out of business.

He’d mentioned to Dawn and Solar that he needs to keep his ego in check, and it’s turning out to be a little more difficult than he’d expected. Edward’s life was, for the most part, pretty average. He wasn’t any kind of genius. He and Cyndi did okay, but they weren’t hugely financially successful, and he certainly never considered himself ambitious compared to several of his friends he grew up with.

Having been, for all intents and purposes, handed a golden ticket in life has been a completely new experience for both sets of memories. The reveal of his memories to his parents nearly three months prior was absolutely the right decision. They had all done a phenomenal job dealing with a situation that no parent could ever hope to have an idea of how to handle.

Aside from the rare night where one parent or another is meeting with friends or Cure is spending the night somewhere else, almost every night ends with a group cuddle session that gives Cure the opportunity to talk about what’s going on, how he feels, things he’s got on his mind, or concerns about the future.

Having that trustworthy sounding board, even when they don’t have immediate solutions, has been a tremendous source of strength for him and has served to ensure he’s keeping his head on straight. He can’t even imagine how much more difficult coming to terms with everything and dealing with the changes in his life would have been without his parents’ loving support the entire time.

Cure’s pulled out of his thoughts when Title nudges him with a fetlock. She finished talking to the receptionist while Cure zoned out. She motions towards a set of benches near a stairwell that he assumes goes up to the Taxes & Revenue offices. She had told him that they took up the majority of a floor of the building.

The town has around four thousand ponies in it. Cure figures that somewhere around sixty to seventy percent of the population is working. That number discounts foals and ponies over about sixty or so, and is probably a somewhat inaccurate figure given ponies tend to start work younger and, typically, work until they damn near drop dead, but for a quick mental exercise it seems good enough.

By his estimate, the offices he’s visiting are responsible for helping between twenty four and twenty eight hundred ponies do their taxes each quarter. According to Title most ponies that are employed and making an hourly rate only take a few minutes to calculate.

Apparently employers provide, essentially, a W2 each quarter and, like in his memories, pay stubs typically have a “Quarter to date” figure so nopony has any excuse not to have their documents ready when it’s their turn to come in. Most don’t even get an appointment; they just drop off the payment for two quarters prior and the previous one’s earnings statement then come pick up the next bill at some point a month or so later.

Cure sat down and did the math at one point. Assuming 2400 ponies need their taxes done each month and each one takes approximately ten minutes, that’s 24,000 “work minutes” per quarter. Many are far less, but then there’s ponies like Deed and Title that are self employed and have more line items to take care of, but on average ten minutes is probably not too far off.

24000 work minutes translates to 400 work hours. There’s roughly 500 work hours in a single quarter per pony (assuming 40 hour weeks), which means that four or five ponies should be able to do all of the work a few times over.

It was Title who pointed out that, first off, ponies almost never work forty hours in a week. Second, business entities (corporations) also have to do taxes, and they’re far more time consuming than an individual. Third, the Taxes & Revenue office is also responsible for the administration of the actual city’s finances as well.

Finally, there’s always “extra” costs and time sinks involved such as paid time off, holidays, closings for estrus, etcetera, that meant that even though ten or so ponies could possibly do the work, the office typically has at least double that staff when fully staffed so the work is always done timely.

Cure couldn’t really argue with them. The only thing that came to mind was, “Y’all need some Quickbooks or somethin. All this paper freakin sucks,” but alas, the old paper ledgerbook is the best option for now.

The two sit quietly for a moment, Cure leaning against his mom and gently nuzzling his cheek against her shoulder while they wait. “Hey mom? Did I hear you say something to her about your foal?”

“Yep. They ask that expecting mares let them know in advance so they can plan for the volume.”

“Ah. I don’t remember dam saying anything about that though.”

“You were a summer foal, honey. Spring estrus is the big one, and because of the cold weather when we’re due they don’t deliver the January births at the clinic. They’ll set up some tents outside in the summer, but that’s harder to do in January.”

“Huh… I guess there’s nowhere near enough room there for dozens of mares to come in at the same time. I hadn’t thought of that.”

“Right. They’ll rearrange the whole ground floor of this building and have a big setup here for everypony to deal with the volume. There’ll be all kinds of ponies from out of town to help out too.”

“That makes sense. We only have the one doctor at the clinic.”

“They’ll bring in a few actual doctors, but mostly the ponies that they send are trained specifically in foalbirth. The doctors are just there to help out if there’s a problem.”

“Cool. I’ll have to see how I can help when that rolls around. I may end up delivering your filly after all, ma.”

“I hadn’t thought of that. True, you may. We’ll just have to see,” she says when a young, light pink pegasus mare with a purple mane and tail comes down the stairs and calls their name.

“Wow, look! You two are almost twins!” Cure teases, getting a giggle from the pegasus and an eye roll from his mom.

“Plenty of ponies have the same colors, sweetie,” she reminds him as they stand to follow her.

“You mean there’s plenty of pretty pink and purple ponies populating the proximate part of the province?” he excitedly asks, getting a louder laugh from the pegasus.

“Well aren’t you a witty little stallion,” she remarks over her withers as the two follow her up the stairs.

“Yes ma’am,” he proudly agrees as Title mutters “Too damned witty most‘a the time.”

As the pair are escorted up the stairs the mare introduces herself, “I’m Even Audit and I’ll be helping you today. Just follow me to a meeting room and I’ll get you all taken care of!”

Cure can’t help but smile at the mare. First off, she’s quite pretty. Of course, having a beautiful set of pink wings is kind of a cheat, and he recognizes that weakness in himself. She also seems way happier than Cure can recall anyone he’d known in accounting or government work to be. He chalks that up to following her destiny, though, as her mark appears to be some sort of ledger sheet with illegible writing throughout it.

The pair follow Even up the stairs, through a locked, unlabeled door and down a short hallway that leads to an office area with a dozen desks in the middle of the room, all occupied with working ponies. The entire right wall looks to be some secure storage area, as it has a single, heavy door most of the way towards the back. The door looks just like what Cure had seen in his lawyers’ offices. The room seems to take up a full third or more of the entire office floor if Cure’s estimating where in the building they are correctly.

To the left is a walkway that dead-ends in a T intersection with offices lining all of the walls aside from the storage room. Their destination is one of the meeting rooms immediately to their left, though, so the pair don’t really get to see what’s going on in any of the offices or down the hallways; not that they have a whole lot of interest in doing so anyhow.

For the most part the room is fairly quiet, though the working ponies are chatting with each other in library voices and Cure can hear an occasional laugh while they’re getting situated in the room. Unsurprisingly they don’t get many foals in the tax office, so Cure is forced to stand on his hind legs and put his forelegs on the conference room table to interact with her and his mother.

“Good afternoon,” Even begins, “The runner said you’re Mrs. Title Search and you wanted to discuss some tax concerns? I took a glance at the ledger you provided, but I didn’t see your name in it.”

“Right, that’s because he’s the sole proprietor and only employee,” Title explains. “Our son, here,” she waves to Cure, “Cure Wave has a very special talent and, due to the amount of income he has, we thought it may be wise to have a consultation to make sure something unexpected didn’t come up when it’s time for him to pay his first quarter’s taxes.”

Even looks over the paperwork and reads out loud, “BodyWorks Enterprises? And you’re the sole employee?” she asks, looking at the short colt. “I… pardon me for asking, but… are these numbers right?”

“Yes ma’am,” Cure explains, “I’m sure you’ve seen pegasi and an occasional bat pony flying around with designs and patterns on their wings for the last few weeks,” he continues at her nod, “Many of those are my customers. I’m offering a variety of cosmetic services to ponies like that, as well as several more complicated things like vision correction, dental optimization, skin toning, fat reduction, body sculpting, etcetera.”

She takes a moment to look over the ledger, occasionally looking up with a bewildered glance, then looking back down. “This is over thirty thousand bits, though! How old are you?!”

“Eight, ma’am. And yes, I know. That’s about a hundred and ten appointments I’ve had over the last forty days with an average of a little over two hundred and fifty per session. That’s why we’re here… I figured my first bill will be pretty high and I wanted to make sure I set aside enough that I don’t end up in trouble. Three thousand of that is from healing services I offer to a private corporation, though, so only about twenty eight grand and change is from the cosmetic stuff.”

Cure continues, “Most ponies just make an appointment for one thing, but I have this illusion crystal and after showing them how they could look with just a little touching up I’ve only had a few ponies that didn’t end up getting additional services. And of course, the big money maker is my comprehensive package, but that would be overkill for a young beauty such as yourself.

“With how lovely your natural colors are,” he pauses to nuzzle into his mom, getting a smile and an “Oh you!” eye roll, “I bet a little darker trim work around the edges of your feathers, maybe a nice darker fade down your legs, and the addition of a few bioluminescent effects to make your wings glow bright and you’d have half the stallions, or mares, fawnin over ya everywhere ya went.”

Title can barely hold back the smile at the poor mare’s look. She’s seen Cure do this dozens of times when he has an appointment for something small and, unsurprisingly, it works like a charm. She can’t fault the colt; he’s probably tripled what many of the mares originally made an appointment for. And he definitely delivers on what he promises, too, so it’s not like he’s cheating them at all.

“Do you… umm… have any open slots?”

“For an esteemed public servant such as yourself? I’ll make an open slot! We’re a little booked up right now, but,” he leans forward and stage whispers, “if ya promise not to tell anypony I snuck ya in maybe I can get ya taken care of when I’m done at the clinic this comin Saturday,” he finishes with a wink.

Going back to his normal voice he asks, “How about I meet you at Lemon Sweet’s candy shop just after one? I only have a couple other appointments that day, right mom?”

“Mhmm. I think you can fit her in before your one thirty shows up.”

“Okay!” Even quickly agrees.

“Fantastic!” he shouts with a clap of his hooves. “Oh! I’m sorry! I didn’t mean to pull you off topic like that. Where were we?”

“Uhh…”

“Right! My income. So I have the business there,” he says, motioning to the ledger, “but I also made about a hundred bits from my work at the clinic. I’m just a volunteer there now, though, so I wasn’t sure how that would work.

“The only other income I have is from some work with the guard as an Exercise Advisor, but I won’t get paid for that until the end of the three month contract on January 23rd. It’ll only be a few thousand bits, I think. I figured that’ll be on next quarter’s books.”

Though he originally was going to sell scrolls and crystals to the guard, when his parents pointed out the tax hit he would take he instead “sold” the materials at cost to Dawn and Solar, who were the listed sellers of the scrolls and crystals to the guard. Their total income for the quarter is well below the threshold for being required to pay tax, so the pair can keep 100% of the income.

It wasn’t a lot of money, but each one made a couple hundred bits after the dust settled, so they were thrilled to have a little spending cash to play with.

“I also do independent health consulting for a private organization but I went ahead and included that as part of my business since I am self employed anyhow. Really I think I’m going to continue consolidation of my income streams into BodyWorks unless it becomes advantageous to incorporate at some point, but I know corporate entities are taxed separately and I’m not about to open my wallet so y’all can double dip in there.”

By the time Cure finishes the mare’s eyebrows are clear up into her mane and her wings are raised slightly off of her back. “I… umm. Gimme a second, please,” she calls back as she gathers the papers and trots out the door and out of their line of sight, closing the door behind her.

“I think it was probably a good thing we came, mom.”

“Yep, probably. I don’t think your taxes will really be that difficult since you’ve done a good job keepin everything organized, but at least this way they’ll know to expect this come the end of the quarter.”

“Yeah. I still can’t believe that I’m almost booked all the way out to Hearth’s Warming. Good thing school stops on the 19th because it seems like everypony’s tryin to get in right before the holiday.”

“What ended up happening with that newspony that was going to come by, anyhow?”

“She did. She stopped in on Saturday after we left the clinic. Dam talked to her while I was helping a few customers. I answered some questions once I was done, but she totally softballed me, probably ‘cause I’m eight. And because she was so happy with the work I did on her. I think she said the article will be coming out this week, so I don’t foresee any dearth of business in the future either.”

“No, me neither. Especially if you keep doing that,” she says, waving at the empty seat across from them. “I feel like you’ll need a real office before too long, but I guess there’s not really a point if you’re only going to be there 30 minutes to an hour per day.”

“Yeah, I feel bad for Lemon. I mean, a lot of my customers end up buying some treats while they’re there, but it’s gotta be a sting to the pride to sell a pony ten bits of candy when you know they’re spending thirty times that upstairs with the foal that doesn’t have to spend hours in the kitchen to make that.”

“I wouldn’t worry about it, honey. Her business is doing better as a result, you’re paying her a generous amount of rent for the space, not to mention how nice you fixed up that level. Also, nearly every pony you fix the teeth of stops and buys stuff, and,” the door opens as she finishes her sentence, “just knowing her, Amy, and the fillies will never be sick or hurt is huge. They’re perfectly happy with the arrangement,” she finishes as Even, slightly more collected now, closes the door and takes her seat again.

“Okay, sorry about that!” she says. “I just had to double check with my supervisor. You’re doing everything just like you should… I assume you have set aside a portion of this to pay your taxes with?”

“Yes ma’am. Aside from about three thousand, all of it’s in my account at the bank. I needed to cover some legal fees and get a form designed, bought some supplies and a few pieces of furniture, and had some lighting installed but I have very little in the way of expenses. Oh, and rent for my workspace.”

“Okay. Well, I would suggest aiming for 45%. Based on the math you’ll end up in the highest tax bracket, which has a 40% rate, but it’s a good idea to have that extra five percent as a cushion in case. The tax is a progressive one. Do you know what that means?”

“I assume it means that, for example, the first few thousand bits of income are taxed at a low rate, the next grouping goes up to a higher percent, and so forth?”

“Exactly!” With a big smile she turns to Title. “Your dam has done an excellent job explaining this to you!”

Neither Cure nor Title correct the mare. There’s no harm in the wrong assumption. Cure remembers once when someone made a similar error, telling Josh how his dad is a smart fella. The sting from the immediate “He’s not my father” and the insistent way he corrected the guy stuck around for a while.

Unaware of the incorrect assumption, Even continues, “Make sure you keep receipts for any expenses; they reduce your taxable income. Your actual tax bill will probably be closer to about a third of your income, but you’ll avoid a lot of hassle if you can set aside more until the books have settled.”

“Okay… but… damn. That’s like eleven grand so far,” he complains, wrinkling his snout. “Where the hay is that all goin anyhow?”

“Really?” Title asks, looking at Cure.

“What? I pay taxes. Now. On paper, at least,” he says, waving at the ledger. “I should have the right to ask.”

“It’s going back to you, partially, you dolt. Where do you think that money from Bulwark’s going to come from?”

“Yeah, but then I hafta pay taxes on that too. That bites.” Cure looks at Even and asks, “I don’t suppose you know what the taxes are like in other countries like Saddle Arabia, do you?”

Even’s eyes almost pop out of her head as she squawks out a “What?!”

Title reaches over and jabs Cure just below his right legpit. “You’re not moving to Saddle Arabia, you pest.” She turns back to the mare and dismisses Cure with a, “Ignore him, he’s a brat.”

“Hey I’m just curious. It’s not like askin is a crime after all.” He pauses for a moment then turns to Even and asks, “Err… it’s not, is it?”

Still somewhat shell shocked, Even shakes her head no.

“Okay, good. I didn’t think so. What about businesses that are incorporated in foreign countries, at least?”

“They’re taxed on any income earned here…” she warily explains.

“Fudge! I figured that would be too easy. Are there any new business incentives or anything I’m not taking advantage of?”

“Umm… given your income, no. Those are mainly there to help new businesses that are struggling until they turn a profit.”

“Are there like… economic development zones with tax incentives for moving into maybe?”

Even raises a brow and asks, “In Golden Hills?”

“Argh… I figured. I didn’t really wanna move yet anyhow. What about ways to reduce my taxable income like tax deferred retirement accounts? Maybe government treasury bonds with nontaxable interest payments?”

“What?! Why would the government need to issue bonds?!”

“You all operate in the black?!” he shouts.

“Of course we do! What kind of messed up government doesn’t?! Where have you ever even heard of something like that?”

“I dunno, I figure the city needs something, they maybe issue a bond to cover the expenses, then they pay it back over time.”

“C’mon Cure, focus!” Title shouts, jabbing him again.

“Fine! Never mind all that then.” The room goes quiet a minute while the colt scrunches his brow in thought. Even and Title exchange a look with Title giving the poor mare a sympathetic smile.

“Hey I have another question,” he says, ignoring the “Sun and stars…” the mare next to him sighs out. “Since I stopped collecting pay from the clinic as an employee and instead “donate” my time, can I use my average hourly rate as a figure for how much volunteer work I do at the clinic and offset my taxes with that amount?”

“I… uhh. I don’t know. I don’t think I’ve ever heard of anypony doing that.”

“Well are donations and volunteering usable to reduce my adjusted gross income?”

“Charitable donations are… Volunteering isn’t, though.”

“What? That’s bunk! Volunteering is, essentially, donating time! And time is money! Especially my time. My hourly rate's somewhere like a K per! That's eight to ten grand a month I'm hoofin over!”

Trying to save the poor mare, Title interrupts. “Damnit Cure, that’s not how it works. If you actually gave the clinic something, a physical thing, then that would be different… Right?” she asks. When Even tentatively nods back to his mom, Title points a hoof at the mare and continues, “See? You can’t just ‘donate time’ and offset your taxes with that.”

“Hmm. What about if, instead of just giving the clinic something, instead I’m donating an item for their use? Like… let’s say I had a machine… a diagnostic machine, just for this example, and that machine would normally cost five thousand bits per month to rent. If I rented it to them for free would those five thousand bits come outta my taxes somehow?”

“You really don’t like taxes, do you?” Even asks. “I’ve had older ponies do this,” she admits, “but… you’re eight. You said you’re eight, right?” At his nod she looks at Title with a raised brow. When Title nods and sighs too, Even explains, “You can actually do something like that. It’s more complicated than you probably think it is, but in your example your income would be reduced by a portion of the five thousand bits. So, yes, basically, but there's math involved so I couldn't say how much exactly offhoof.”

“Sweet!” he shouts with a hoof pump. Turning to his mom he’s nearly dancing when he says, “Guess those trees are gonna pay off after all, ma!”

“Oh stars… I suppose they will, but you said you wouldn’t charge for healing.”

“I’m not charging anypony!” he responds defensively. “They’ll be donated each month. Duh?”

“That’s kinda splitting hairs, don’t you think, honey?”

“No. Not at all,” he answers with a scoff. “They’re totally separate things.” Pointing at Even he adds, “The tax expert said so herself. I’m not charging anypony, I’m just reducing how much I am charged for the privilege of living here.”

“You’re a nightmare.”

“Only ‘cause you know I’m right. They better not try tellin me those damn things aren’t worth a fortune when it comes time, though. You know that’s how they screw ya over, right?” Tapping one hoof with another he explains, “It’s the technicalities where they do it.

“They all go in and be like, ‘Oh this things only worth a hundred bits a month, especially now that there’s no more viruses!’” Freezing on the spot his eyes get huge and he shouts, “Oh shit! I’m gonna put myself outta business! The friggin things really won’t be worth as much once I eliminate illness!

“I better get those independently evaluated once they’re ready and lock in some kinda contract or something. Damnit!” He stops again, ignoring the wide-eyed concerned looks from Even and his mom massaging her temples. While tapping at his chin, he idly wonders aloud, “Hmm do you think Ace, Hardwick, and Rose can refer me to somepony for that? Damn, I may need to just go with the Cure Tree. They can have the damn printer for free as long as they're buyin the ink.”

Even looks completely done with the whole meeting. This isn’t even remotely what she expected when she got a note saying an eight year old wanted to make sure he was paying the crown the right amount. She figured the foal was delivering newspapers or something, not bringing in almost 30K per month. This is more of a Friday meeting. She could at least go out and get sloshed afterwards, then.

She supposes she could anyhow but she can’t help but feel ponies that get tanked after one work day may have a drinking problem.

At least she got an appointment out of it. She’d seen a number of pegasi, especially, with really pretty designs in their manes, tails, and on their wings and hadn’t really considered getting it done for herself. Being hoofed an appointment like that was really lucky, especially with the holiday coming up soon.

Coming back out of her daze she realizes the two are apparently done bickering at each other, which is weird as Tartarus for an eight year old and his mom, but it’s not like anything else about this has been normal either, so whatever.

“So… umm… did you have any other questions for me today?”

“Nah, I guess not right now,” the strange colt responds, waving a dismissive hoof, “I do need a note for school. My teacher was giving me a hard time for leaving early again.” He gets an odd look on his face, then leans towards his mom and nudges her with a hoof saying, “You could say she was being… a sour Apple! HAH!”

“So freaking lame…” the mare complains with an eye roll as Even starts writing out a little note indicating Cure came in today and slides it over.

Even raises an expectant brow at the colt who, after a few seconds of chuckling, turns back with his last request for the day. “Bah, whatever. Well, Ms. Audit, you’ve been very helpful, even if I'm not thrilled at the news,” he starts. “I’ll look forward to seeing you this Saturday. Before I forget, though, I just need to know if there’s a time or day you’re normally available so I can ask for you specifically when I come back next time.”

Well fuck, she thinks, as she feels her wings droop.

“Wanna hit a bakery and get a snack before you go back to work?”

The two had finished their business at Town Hall and were walking out the door. Title couldn’t help but snicker when she pictures the poor, defeated mare there at the end of the meeting. There’s no way anypony could have prepared for dealing with Cure’s… uniqueness.

“That sounds really nice. There’s a good one right over here,” she says, motioning to a storefront just down the street.

“Yeah, that’s where I got that pie before we did that mare we deaged,” he reminds her, trotting beside her down the street.

Once again he darts ahead and holds the door open, then follows his mom in and gets in line beside her. Cure picks out a big cinnamon roll and asks for a hot chocolate while Title goes with a piece of pecan pie and a glass of milk.

The two sit on a bench next to each other and eat in silence, occasionally stealing a bite of the other’s food and just snuggling together.

“So have you heard back from the seamstress or the book store?”

Cure reaches into his bag and pulls out one of the Sound Bubble crystals he’d made. He sets it on the table and activates it, cutting off the sound in the bakery.

“Nope. Gonna check with both after this before I go to Lemon’s. I don’t expect the outfits will be ready until sometime next week at the earliest. That’s okay, though, I’ll need to make an appointment for Solar plus one either way.”

“Good thinkin. I doubt he’d have anything appropriate for that. Do you know if he’s even involved with anypony right now?”

“I know he was. Even if he isn’t right now I’m sure he can find a date. I’m giving the dude enough warning, after all. It’s not like it would be hard for a single unicorn colt, especially one in good shape, to find a mare to take to a fancy party.”

“True. I’m sure he’ll be excited.”

“I bet. Hopefully she’ll be excited too,” he teases, waggling his brows.

“Cure… really?”

“What?” he asks with a shrug. “He’s at that age. It’s not like we’re in season anymore, what’s the harm?”

“I guess. It’s just so weird hearing that talk from a foal’s mouth.”

“Yeah… Sorry, ma. I’ll try to act a bit more my age when we’re out.”

“That’s probably for the best. You don’t want to slip up around anypony else, after all.”

“I’ve not screwed up … well, more than a few times, since all this,” he says, waving at his head, “and those were small slips, so I think I’m doing alright. Anyhow, the clerk at the bookstore told me that Ferric’s order should be here by Saturday. I paid extra for express shipping, so they better get here in time.”

“I’m sure they will. They’re just comin from Canterlot, right?”

“Detrot. The company’s based in Canterlot but that’s where they have their warehouse. Land's too expensive half way up a mountain, go figure. He said it would take a couple days for the order and money to get there, a few days for processing, then a few more to get it loaded on a train and make its way back. I should have probably just gone to Baltimare and ordered them there. That would have shaved two or three days off since they have a direct route.”

“I’m sure she’d be thrilled even if it came in late, honey.”

“Yeah. I’m really excited to see the outfits, though. The mare that took my order must have tried a dozen different ways to get me to tell her how I got the silk. She said it’s the most beautiful material she ever worked with. I can’t believe she didn’t accept some in lieu of payment. Moron.”

“Yeah, she probably could have sold a single dress made of that stuff for ten times what you’re paying her. Some ponies just don’t have good business sense, honey.”

“Yeah, but she’s actually running a business. It makes ya wonder if she’s costing herself money everywhere. Oh well, not my problem. Though the silk itself is just another way I could make money, I suppose. I could make a plant that just prints the crap, basically.”

“Would it be worth it, though? You’re making five hundred to four thousand per night and only working twenty minutes or so.”

“From a purely monetary standpoint, yeah it probably would be worth it. It would totally screw up the silk industry, though. Maybe I could sell a little in Canterlot where there’s more demand. That’s a whole ‘nother thing and I don’t feel like worryin about it until I’m older. Or never. By the time I’m fifteen I’ll probably have a few million in the bank if this cosmetic thing keeps going like it has been. I may need to occasionally travel, though, just so I’m not tapping the Baltimare market dry.”

“Yeah… some of the stuff is a one-time-only thing, after all.”

“Yep. Sorta. I guess a mare could have another foal and blow out their skin again, but I’m sure you’ve overheard me try to warn younger ponies about that kinda stuff before I even start. Also, the deaging folks are all being told its temporary, so I expect some will come see me again in five to ten years. I know I would. Of course, there’s a huge, massively profitable part of the business I probably won’t touch for at least a few years.”

“Ah… the fertility stuff?”

“Yeah, both males and females. I’m not gonna give everypony what I did dad,” he continues despite Title’s giggling, “but just flipping the ratio of male to female sperm or, at least, evening it out would be worth a fortune. I’m just not sure I should even charge for that, though. If they’re askin for a bigger dong or a boa constrictor hoo-ha then hell yeah, but just fixing what I see as a genetic mistake? Probably not.”

It’s taken a lot of exposure to the way Cure talks sometimes to not choke or go from pink to maroon, but despite their many candid conversations the colt still occasionally says something that throws Title off her game. “Boa… constrictor… hoo-ha?” she can barely get out between laughs.

“Yeah, you know, enhance the muscles y’all got. There’s no reason only dudes can benefit from what I do. Of course, dudes would benefit from that too, but with a couple extra nerve endings and some enhanced musculature every experience would be absolutely mind-blowing. I got the idea from those ducks originally. Well, that and truly staggering amounts of human porn, of course.”

Bursting out in laughter, Title is almost doubled over laying on the table. “Cure… what the hay?”

“What? You’re a married mare getting, when you’re not about to pop, at least, your needs met. Imagine how much more likely somemare is to land a dude if she can wring ‘em dry while gettin her jollies at the same time. It’ll help a lot in foalbirth too, just reversin the push, ya know? Just gotta be careful they don’t launch it across the room or somethin. It’d be like one of those ping pong ball launchers. Can you imagine bowlin over the doc. Or they're sittin there with a catcher's mit or somethin.”

Cackling the whole time, Title has to catch her breath and wipe a few tears from her eyes. “Oh my stars… the shit you say.”

Cure just shrugs and points out, “Medical mode, mom. You know my rules, and you can’t deny that most stallions would stick by a lady with that ability come Tartarus or high water.”

Still snickering, she has to agree. “Yeah, I certainly can’t deny that. I think maybe you could present it a little differently, though…”

“Well I’m damn sure not going to use an illusion crystal for that,” he says, cracking her up all over again.

After a few minutes gathering her wits and wiping her face she points out, “Well, enhanced hoo-has or not, you can’t work completely for free, even if it is something like that. Maybe in a year or two you’ll have enough magic and we can work with Family Planning or something. Maybe you could negotiate with Her Highness to get a special dispensation exempting you from taxes if you contribute to the birth of so many males. I could see it.”

“That’s a good thought, mom. We’ll see. I’m expecting a summons any day now, though I kind of expect the actual meeting to happen sometime after the new year.”

“Oh? Why?”

“The healing I’m doing in Baltimare. I know I talk about it a lot, but mom… it gives me almost a high that the cosmetic stuff just… doesn’t. I know it's probably a mark compulsion thing, but frankly I don’t mind helping ponies one bit. You shoulda seen that mare when I finished healing her wing.”

“Cryin mess?”

“Oh yeah, absolutely. She latched onto the surgeon like a friggin barnacle. I can’t blame her, though. I didn’t get the full story; none of my business, ya know? But apparently she lost her right wing in some accident eight years ago and has been grounded ever since. Poor thing, spent a third of her life being denied her birthright.”

“Thank Harmony I stuffed myself and the surgeon kept the pace slow so I could regenerate magic, or I wouldn’t have been able to do it all at once… I’m sure that would have been hard for her, having the hope dangled in front of you then not getting the prize.”

“Eh, she probably would’ve been fine. It would have been a step in the right direction, and that’s all it takes to give hope sometimes.”

“Yeah,” he agrees, pausing in thought. “Anyhow, I know Sergeants Bulwark, Haze, and Song were working on some report on me for the captain in charge of Baltimare. I’m not sure if the report goes to Fort Meadow from there or if it goes straight to Canterlot, but it’ll get there eventually.”

“What’s that got to do with the hospital? You think somepony there is in on the report?”

“Definitely. I’m just amazed I’ve never been followed and spied on directly. If I was them I would have had me observed, or interviewed at least. I guess that's possible, but between heat, sight, smell, and hearing I would have expected some kind of mistake.

"I guess SMILE could be that good, but I'm pretty sure I've not been. I bet at least a few of my clients were agents, though. I've had a few mares with normal jobs that have more wear in their joints and cartilage than their profession would normally exhibit.”

"Smile?"

"No clue what it stands for, but yeah. I don't know if it was canon or fanon, but there was this one goofy unicorn in the show that was kind of the comedy relief. A total airhead, ya know? Anyhow, she'll have this roommate or girlfriend, which she was is kinda ambiguous, but she's a retired SMILE agent. They're some kind of spies, but I don't know if they report to the boss lady or kinda work independently."

“I've never heard of them, honey. They may not exist at all. I think you’re far, far more paranoid than the typical pony.”

“Probably, but I’ve also been exposed to more than anypony except maybe the boss lady. I figure the report should be absolutely glowing given how much good I’ve done in just a short time. The fact I’m healing for free now will probably get her attention. It’ll give her an excuse to summon us and probably give me some kind of recognition.

“Of course the whole trip will really just be some final test, I bet. I definitely can’t play the naive foal part, so I’ll have to go with the mature professional mask instead. To be fair, that is much more “me” anyhow.”

“Honey, I think if you get summoned it will just be the recognition thing. You really are being paranoid again. You’re not being tested.”

“Meh, either way I would behave the same. I figure we’ll be on our way to Canterlot by the end of April at the latest.”

“Why April?”

“December has Hearth’s Warming and I bet there’s a lot of end-of-year administrative stuff. The end of January or beginning of February is when you and all the other spring pregnancies will be due. February also has Hearts and Hooves but that’s not an official government holiday, so it’s the first “down” month that’s far enough away for all the correspondence on me to get around.”

Title gives him an odd look. “Hearts and Hooves isn’t in February.”

“What? Wait a second…”

“Uhh… you okay, Cure?”

“March 21st?”

“Yeah. How in the hay did you think it was in February?”

“Umm… there’s a very similar holiday celebrated elsewhere that’s on February 14th. Guess I kinda mixed that up a smidge.”

“Just a tad. It’s always just before spring estrus hits, honey. Well, before it hits in the capital. For us it’s about a week ahead, give or take.”

“Right, right. Well, anyhow, I guess February is a possibility, but if I make it past April without hearing anything I’ll be shocked.”

“I suppose it wouldn’t blow my mind if you’re right. We’ll see.”

“I just hate that I’ll have to bow. I think that bugs me more than anything.”

“What? What’s wrong with that? You bow to mares all the time.”

“Teasing and flirting. And it’s my choice, nopony is forcing me to. The whole ‘you must bow before Her Highness’ thing grates on my nerves.”

“Honey, it’s a show of respect.”

Scoffing, Cure shakes his head, “No it’s not. It’s a show of supplication, not respect. I respect plenty of ponies, I damn sure don’t bow to them. It doesn’t matter anyhow; it’s expected either way and, as much pride as I may have, I’m not so bad as to refuse.”

“There’s that, at least. I don’t get why it’s such a big deal.”

“Eh, it’s a cultural thing.”

“Ahh… I seem to recall mention of a rebellion. Is it from that?”

“Basically,” he agrees with a nod. “A founding principle of the country is that all are created equal. To be fair that definitely wasn’t remotely the case ever in history, but it still sticks in my craw that there’s ponies, mortal ones at that, that I’m expected to lower my head in deference to. If that Blueblood twat wants me to bow he can try and make me," he growls. Blowing out a sigh he leans into his mom and says, "I have… strong opinions on the subject, clearly.”

“I’m not sure if I’ve ever seen you angry before. Maybe peeved, but this really bothers you, doesn’t it?”

“It does, but like I said, I’ll deal with it. I’ll bow and grovel like a good little pony should, don’t worry.”

Title can very clearly hear the snarl in his voice. “... Okay, if you say so,” she hesitantly agrees.

The treats and drinks are long gone and Cure has a couple errands to run, so he spends a minute just leaning into his mom in silence, content to enjoy her comforting presence. Finally, he lets out a sigh, deactivates the sound crystal, tosses it in his bag, and turns to wrap her in a hug. “I love you, mom. Thanks for going with me today. And for the treats.”

Wrapping a foreleg around him, she squeezes him tight. “I love you too, honey. I better get going before your sire starts trying to hunt me down.”

“Eh, he’d probably look here first, wouldn’t he?” Cure asks, climbing down off the bench.

“Shattap, you… Yeah, probably,” she reluctantly agrees. The two take care of their trash as they make their way out of the store. “You don’t have to point it out, ya know. I’ll meet you at Lemon’s in an hour or so.”

“Sounds good. School will be letting out in a few minutes so I’m going to take this note in before I hit the stores.”

After delivering the note to his somewhat surprised teacher, Cure confirmed with the bookstore and the seamstress that all of his orders would be ready well in advance of the holiday.

It dawned on him that he hadn’t gotten anything for his probably-soon-to-be little sisters, so he picked out a few coloring books, some crayons, and some girly letter books for the pair. Once he got to his “office” he whipped up a couple thick silk blankies for them as well. His talent let him alter the colors as easily as his own coat, so he made a cute cherry design on one and a purple lotus pattern on the other.

The three mares that had appointments with him were a little more involved today than normal. The first was scheduled for eye correction and a full-body skin makeover regimen for a total of seven hundred bits.

The second wanted a complex vine-weave permanent wing design that was challenging to get right since he didn’t have an exact scan he could use as a template and her illusion wasn’t very detailed.

The third was pretty easy; she only wanted some of the fat moved off of her belly and added to her rear instead.

In about an hour, only maybe twenty minutes of which was actual work, he’d made 2000 bits, so he couldn’t complain.

After dinner with the family Cure made his way to Dawn and Solar’s house to hang out and to get Solar’s daily cell conversion taken care of. Leaning into the colt on a couch with Dawn snuggled on top of him, he makes the changes, then relaxes into the soft cushion.

“Whew. There ya go, dude. Eight percent. So, have you started noticing anything?”

“I definitely have,” Dawn answers while nuzzling into his mane. “It’s made a huge difference in my ability to grab things. I’m not sure about the strength thing, but I’m not getting chilly outside like I always have.”

“Yeah,” her brother agrees. “I’m thinking the strength increases is a magic thing. Not feeling the chill is really convenient though.”

“Hmm. I wonder if the active magic use part won’t work for you two. That means that in high winds or extreme cold we may not be able to burn magic to stay warm.”

“Didn’t you say that pegasus and earth pony things are only in your muscles normally?”

“Yep, you’re probably thinking the same thing I am.”

“That having more things converted may make the aura more effective?”

“Exactly. I’ve done all of my earth pony cells and most of the pegasus ones. I’ll have those done in a little over a week, then it’ll take a few months to do the unicorn cells. I’ll probably have a better idea of what that means around the end of the month. Maybe January at the latest. By Hearth’s Warming you’ll be at twenty percent, which I think is a good stopping point.”

“Yeah, that’ll give me a couple weeks to get used to everything so I’m not accidentally doing anything too out there at Basic.”

“Yep, good call. So… Solar?”

“Hmm?”

“Sorry if this is a sensitive subject, but I have a reason why I’m asking…”

“What?”

“Were you able to patch things up with your marefriend? Honey something, right?”

Solar sighs and shakes his head. “Sweet. Honey Sweet and no… she’s moved on. That’s okay, though. I’ve kinda met somepony else. Now, don’t go thinking this is because of my dam…”

“She’s a unicorn?”

Slowly nodding, he echos the colt. “She’s a unicorn.”

“Meh, nothin wrong with unicorns,” he says, shifting slightly under Dawn. “Corporal Ricochet seems pretty nice after all. All the stallions I’ve met have been pretty cool too,” he finishes, getting a nip on his ear.

Solar can’t help but chuckle at his sister’s annoyed look.

Releasing the flappy appendage she says, “I guess earth ponies can be okay too, especially ones with pretty blue coats.”

“Yep, definitely. We should hang out with Delta Coast more,” he agrees with a smirk, cutting off her line and getting a harder bite and a growl this time.

“So why do you ask?”

“Eh, I was just wondering if you had yourself a 'lil lady right now. Are you doing anything nice together for the holidays?”

“We were all going to go to the Hearth's Warming Eve party at town hall. You got invited right? I know dam did because of her work at the clinic, so I assumed…” he trails off at Cure’s no head shake.

“I didn’t mean you as a family, I meant you and your mare. Were you going to do something nice together for Hearth’s Warming or New Year’s?”

“I… uhh… don’t want to make anypony uncomfortable, but other than the scroll money I don’t really have much in the way of savings to do anything.”

“Well that sucks,” Cure bluntly points out, getting a snicker and a poke from Dawn. “Good thing you have a rich friend, huh?”

“Uhh…”

“Hey Sunrise?”

“Hmm?”

“Can you pass me that envelope poking up there in my bag?”

Dawn lifts the envelope and floats it over to Cure asking, “What’s this?”

“I asked Ms. Gale for a small favor. As you can imagine, the hospital bigwigs were happy to help their new miracle colt. I told them that I wanted to get my big brother something special for Hearth’s Warming and as a pre-going-away present of a sorts. These are for you and your beau,” he explains, passing the envelope to the older colt.

Solar reaches over and takes the envelope, looking a little warily between it and the colt. He opens the envelope and unfolds the papers. “What’s this?” he asks, reading over the document, Dawn leaning to see too. “The Lady Baltimare? New Year’s Eve?”

“That’s an invitation to a fancy hotel and a ritzy party with the children of several important ponies in the Baltimare area. I understand many of the sergeants along with the captain over the area will have a couple of their foals there, so it’ll be a nice, safe, age appropriate shindig for the two of you to meet some other young colts and mares that may end up being important ponies to know.”

“Dude… I can’t accept this!”

“Well we’re too young and I don’t have any other friends your age, so if you’re not going then you could just toss that in the trash, I suppose.”

“... You’re serious, aren’t you?”

“Oh yeah, absolutely. Velvet Stitch knows to expect you with a plus one to pick out a nice tux and a pretty dress sometime this week. Don’t worry about a thing; it’s all paid for.”

“Velvet Stitch?”

“The mare that runs the boutique in town.”

“Huh. I can’t help but notice that there’s only one hotel room.”

“Damn right. Just go easy on the poor girl. She probably won’t have your…stamina,” he says, waggling his brows and getting a laugh from Dawn.

“That’s not going to happen.”

“Why not? It’s not like you’re gonna knock her up,” he casually says, Dawn no longer laughing and instead making a grossed-out face. “Go have yourselves some fun. I’ll give you a checkup before you take off anyhow.”

“... A checkup? Why would I… Dude!”

“Hey, just sayin. I don't know who yer takin,” he responds with a shrug. “Also, if things get out of hoof just come get me and I’ll patch her right up.”

“Your weirdness aside, I’m not sure what to say. Thank you, Cure. I’m sure Starlight will appreciate it very much.”

“Starlight?”

“Mhmm. Starlight Shine. I’m not sure if you’ve ever met her. She’s a unicorn, like I said. She’s got a dark blue coat, lighter blue mane and tail. She has a wedding cake for a cutie mark.”

“I don’t think I’ve seen her. I mean, maybe in passing, but the name and colors don’t ring a bell. What’s she do?”

“She works as an event planner. She does weddings, birthdays, corporate parties, stuff like that.”

“Huh. Nice. Well I look forward to meeting her at some point.”

“Me too,” Dawn growls out.

“What?” Cure asks, looking at the underside of Dawn’s chin. She’s glaring at Solar, so Cure turns to the older colt. “What’s that mean?”

“Big bro still hasn’t brought her around. I haven’t met her yet,” she explains in an annoyed tone.

“Are you trying to keep her away from your dam?”

Solar winces but slowly nods.

“I can’t say I recommend doing that, dude. You can warn the girl; there’s nothing wrong with that. You shouldn’t push your dam away like that, though.”

“She chased away Honey,” he defensively argues. “I don’t want her doing it again.”

“Yeah, I get it, but she’s your dam dude. She was just doing what she thought was best for you. I don’t agree with it, but you don’t turn your rear on family like that, especially if they’re trying to change.”

“I can’t believe I’m hearing this, especially from you.”

“Solar… if there’s one pony on this planet that, no matter what else happens, you can trust will always do whatever it takes to look out for you, there’s a very good chance that’s your dam. Your sire too, probably, but from what I’ve seen occasionally even a sire’s dedication to their child pales before the lengths a dam will go to for them.”

The three sit in silence for a moment. “Now, that doesn’t mean she’ll always be right, so you gotta keep that in mind, but at least you’ll always know where her loyalties are.”

“That’s… a fair point, I guess,” Solar agrees with a sigh.

“That was a very nice thing for you to say, Cure,” Dawn says, nuzzling into his mane.

“Eh, it’s true,” he explains. “You know what they say. A good friend will help ya move. A great friend will help you move a body. Your dam will hold ‘em down for ya.”

Dawn jabs a hoof into his side and shoots him an annoyed look. “And then you ruined it. You can’t say stuff like that, Cure.”

“Oh come on! You know I’m just teasing you two. I mean, seriously, can you imagine my dam doing anything bad at all? I think I’ve heard her apologize to the weeds she’s pulling.”

“You’re gonna say something like that around ponies who don’t know how weird you are one day,” Solar warns. “They’re gonna think you’re serious if you’re not careful.”

“Bah, it’s just a saying,” he says, waving a dismissive hoof. “Y’all just overreact to stuff,” he insists with a teasing smile. Dawn rolls her eyes and looks away with a sigh.

“So,” Cure starts, trying to dispel the slightly awkward silence, “how about you go put that away,” he motions to the envelope and papers, “then we go to the range for a little bit and, if you two burn off your magic fast enough, we go grab a shake or some hot chocolate?”

Scowl fading, Dawn reluctantly agrees. “A hot chocolate does sound pretty good,” she admits.

Solar tucks the papers back in the envelope while standing up. “Sure, dude. Are you going to be able to actually do anything? I know the conversion thing kinda saps you.”

“Not much, but you two need to burn yourselves out too. Besides, I have a belly full of food from dinner, so with the whole cheat thing I’ll still be able to do a little. Let’s get movin before it gets any later, though. The train should be there soon.”

“Are you going to try anything you learned from those chemistry books?”

“No. Definitely not. I’m not even going to bother looking into that stuff for a while. There’s too much potential for something to go wrong and, like you said, I’m not experienced enough with modifying spells to predict what’ll happen.”

Cure nudges Dawn to slide off of him, then starts making his way to the door. “I’m going to go ahead of you and get changed at the station. I’ll meet ya there once I can sneak away. Just don’t let me forget to come back to get my bag afterwards, alright?”

“Alright, Cure,” Dawn calls as he steps outside. “We’ll see you in a few minutes!”

The range, as it always seems to be, is completely vacant. This isn’t a surprise to anypony, as unicorns really do not like cold weather. The siblings are both at eight percent of their mitochondria converted, which, added to the five percent of “pegasus” cells unicorns innately have, means that they’re roughly a quarter as protected from the elements as an actual pegasus.

While the weather has fallen to about twelve degrees (about fifty five degrees Fahrenheit), that one fourth protection is more than adequate to stave off the cold with the thicker winter coat both have grown in over the last two months.

Cure, now in his fluffy, brown Riddle guise, sits idly by and watches the unicorns blast away at the various mounds of dirt, occasionally throwing out an illusion for them to aim at or to try to scare one of them into a miscast.

With the sun slowly approaching the horizon and the siblings getting close to running out, Cure makes a request of the pair that neither expected.

“Sorry, what’d you say?” Solar asks. “I must have had something stupid in my ear.”

Rolling his eyes, Cure explains. “You heard me just fine ya big wuss. Just a really low power concussion shot. I’m just curious whether I can tank it or not.”

“Tank it?” Dawn asks. “Does that mean… store it or something?”

“Nah, minotaur term. It means shrug it off. You both know I’m armored up. I’m just curious what a low powered shot feels like. I know it’s not really that dangerous.”

“It can be… we could get in a lot of trouble if you’re hurt.”

“Just don’t shoot me in the face, duh. I can heal anything else easily, ya know. Just hit me with the weakest and we’ll see if it actually does anything.”

“Eh… the weakest is basically a push. I guess that’s not a big deal. You use that in “first to hit” duels, after all.”

“See? How’ll ya ever know what it’s like on the receiving end if it never happens?”

“Usually foals don’t duel, Cure,” Dawn points out, scowling.

“Yeah but you both know that I’m stronger and tougher than any unicorn adult.”

“He actually is,” Solar agrees, looking down at his sister. “He’s stronger than me and our sire, at least on the press machine. Cure did two fifty. I did two thirty and dad could only do two fifteen.”

“I wasn’t using my magic either,” Cure calls out.

“You weren’t? How much can you do with it?”

“Dunno. Based on the one experiment my sire did I’m guessing around seven to nine hundred. We didn’t get the opportunity to really test much, but he was able to more than double his max on the draft pull machine. He did the full stack.”

“2000 kg?!” Solar asks, wide-eyed. “Fucking earth ponies… that’s insane.”

Dawn is looking at Cure like he’s absolutely nuts. “You think you can lift up to nine hundred kilograms? That’s eight times my brother.”

“Probably closer to seven now. Dude’s gotten swole, yo,” Cure says, giving the older colt an approving bro nod. “But yes. I think my max is around three hundred. I suspect that magic can triple it, or at least do two and a half times… hence the range on that estimate.”

“Fuck it,” Solar growls, “I’ll shoot ya if you want. You have enough magic to heal, right?”

“You bet.” Cure turns sideways and stops himself from bracing. “Aim for the back half. Umm… not low, please.”

“Fine. Regular beam, lowest power,” he says, shooting a weak beam at Cure. It pushes him and spins him around about fifteen degrees, but he stays on his hooves. There’s no indication of a hit aside from messed up fur.

“Okay, that was weaker than I thought. I’ll brace for the next one. What increments can you do with that?”

“Ten percent, roughly.”

“Okay.” Taking a moment to look around and make sure nopony is watching, he resets himself and turns back with a nod. “Bump it up one. Fire when ready”

“Ten percent. Firing.” The beam has a bit more punch to it, but Cure is braced and shrugs it off easily, shedding some hair at the same time.

“No problem. My fur isn’t toughened, so don’t freak out if you blast it off. If I’d moved with the hit that wouldn’t have happened. Go up to twenty.”

“Wait!” Dawn insists, making sure Solar stopped before approaching Cure to look over the area. Casting a low power light spell she inspects the skin and finds no injury. “Okay, he’s fine,” she calls, stepping back out of the line of fire.

They repeat the cycle two more times until, at 40% power, Cure is finally knocked over, spinning a full 180 degrees. He hops right back up saying, “Well since I actually moved with it, that did less damage. It’s still not enough to actually injure me, but I bet it would break a weaker bone in a normal pony. I’m going to start bracing with magic to see if that helps. Do the same power, please.”

Reset, braced, and ready, Cure nods to fire. The beam staggers him, causing him to lean, but fails to knock him off his hooves. “Okay, that mitigated some. Let’s keep going, please.”

The experiment stops at 80% when Cure is blasted off his hooves, spun nearly fully around, and rolled a few meters. He still gets back up, but tells the pair that the experiment is done.

“So 80% can definitely break bones. I’m not injured now, but I had to heal some muscle and a strained ligament. If I was a fully grown adult with normal bones and unarmored I would probably have a broken bone or two. When do they use full power?”

“Everypony’s scale is different. Most use full power only when they’ve authorized lethal force. I’m not as powerful of a caster as an average adult, yet. Maybe in another year or so when I’m fully grown…”

“You’ve grown almost a hoof just since I met ya. I think you’re going to cap out by June or so. Why, how tall do you want to be?”

“I’d like to end up a little over average… so about eleven and a half hooves, maybe twelve. Lemme guess, that’s another thing you can do.”

“I thought you said you couldn’t make ponies taller!” Dawn yells.

“No, you asked me if I was making myself taller. I’m not. Yet. I can make ponies taller, slowly. Like, very slowly. I’m talking maybe a hoof over a year. That’s a really big change, and it’s not linear either… the bigger they get the slower it goes since the whole body has to grow, not just legs or whatever. Then again that’s an adult not already growing, so it may work better on a teenager.”

“Of course,” Solar deadpans. “I thought your sire seemed taller,” he says, getting a nod. “I hate to ask any more from you…”

“Nah, it’s okay. It doesn’t take much since that’s not so much me forcing your body to grow as it is me encouraging it to do its natural growth thing. Let’s go back now and I’ll give you a push with your mitochondria thing from now on. I’m going to head to the station. Dawn, do you remember that bakery we went to before I deaged that unicorn mare?”

“Yep!”

“Okay, could you go grab my bags and meet me there? I don’t have any money on me.”

“Sounds good.
“We’ll see you there.”

Cure splits off from there, muttering, "Twice in one day... mom's gonna be so proud. I wonder if they have a loyalty card..."

Chapter 42: Special Delivery

Saturday, December 20th, 908 AB (19 days later)

The big day was finally here and Cure couldn’t be more excited. Waking up snuggled between his mom and dam, he raises his head briefly to make sure his sire made it home the previous night. Given the festive season it’s likely last night was a big one, and despite everything going well Cure can’t completely stop worrying thanks to all of the losses Ed suffered for the last decade and a half of his life.

Sure enough, Deed is on Vines’ right side, on his back and, unfortunately, saluting to the almighty. Well, at least that phrase would have worked on Earth. If his sire would roll on his side so he’s facing vaguely west towards the Canterlot / Ponyville area then that may be more accurate, given the approximate location of the Tree.

Either way, Cure’s had quite enough of that view and happily lays his head back down. Vines is in the classic pony loaf position with her head resting against Deed’s right shoulder. Cure looks to his left and finds his mom facing the opposite direction, laying on her right side.

As far as Cure’s concerned, that right there is an invitation, so he happily turns around to face the same direction and crams his head right between her forelegs. Rolling onto his right side to match his mom while being mindful of the baby bump resting on his dock, he lets out a big yawn and nuzzles into the underside of her neck, content to lay there and be held in the soft, warm embrace of the pink mare.

It’ll only be about another month or so before she’ll be a dam, something he knows she’s super excited about. Cure’s pretty excited too. He’s been an only child for eight and a half years and now he’ll have one, then a few months later, two more little siblings to spoil and dote on.

He’s not sure where the blanket they started with ended up, but with the thicker winter coat and the enhancements he’s made to everypony in the family the cold is barely noticed even when they’re outside. Of course, being close to the coast the weather is fairly moderate even during the winter. There’s days when it gets down into the single digits and the weather team has kept the temperature below freezing for the last week in preparation for the upcoming snow, but for the most part this region only has to endure a hard freeze for a few days over the entire winter; typically just long enough to kill off some pests like mosquitos, ticks, and fleas.

The sun hasn’t started cresting the horizon yet, as far as Cure can tell. His parents’ room has windows facing north and west, so it wouldn’t be blasting in like it does in his room, but it still looks pitch black out.

Warm, comfortable, and gently held by his mom’s forelegs, Cure lets himself drift back to sleep; something that takes longer than usual for him because of his excitement for today’s plans.

A few hours later the family is awake and moving. After the normal morning routines the four are seated around the table enjoying their breakfast while discussing Cure’s plans for the day.

“I dunno, champ. Seems ta me yer goin a bit overboard with the whole thing.”

“I know, dad. I’m definitely not going to do this every year, but with everything going that’s happened over the last few months I just kind of want to do something special for everypony. Besides, I’m not sure where I’ll even be next year. So many things are up in the air it’s impossible to say for sure.”

“Speaking of up in the air, what time is your taxi supposed to get here?”

“About four, dam. And thanks, dad, for getting that taken care of for me. I don’t know how I could have arranged that… it’s not like there’s a bunch of taxi services here in Golden Hills, big surprise.”

“No problem, sport. I just wish I could go with ya ta see the expression on those fillies’ faces when they open the door and yer standin there with a big smile and a box on yer back.”

“HA! Yeah. I wish cameras were more widely available. Shame I only have a vague idea of how old fashioned photography worked. If my memories included a photography class in high school I could probably advance the friggin technology in that area by fifty years or more. All I know is the basics, though.”

“Like what, Cure? Sometimes your version of the basics is a bit beyond what we’ve heard.”

“Eh, that’s true sometimes. I doubt it is here. As I understand it, a camera is basically equivalent to an eyelid, kind of. It briefly lets light in through a shutter that opens for a second. I think there’s a mirror in there, but I’m not exactly sure what the purpose is. Probably to reflect light onto the film, but I’m just not sure. Also, there’s a lens that is focusing the image of whatever onto the mirror, I guess.

“So anyhow, the film is this light-sensitive slip of paper with a bunch of chemicals on it that has to be developed somehow. I think that involves soaking it in some other chemicals to remove the light sensitivity?”

Cure stops to idly scratch at his chin in thought for a moment. “Yeah, that must be why because I remember seeing movies where they develop the film in a dark room, then when they’re done with it all they can take the pictures out in normal light and not ruin them.”

“Is… that it?” Title asks. “You’re right… You usually seem to have more details than that.”

With a shrug he answers, “I know. Just because humans had cameras everywhere doesn’t mean I know how exactly they work. And the ones we carried towards the end of my memories were a completely different kind of technology that we’re easily a hundred years away from.” Pausing in consideration he adds, “That is, assuming nopony is born in the next few decades that has some kind of electronics or computer hardware mark.”

“That seems unlikely, sweetie. I think most ponies barely have an inkling what electronics are, and if it weren’t for your Illusion crystal none of us would have any idea what computers can do.”

“I know, dam. It’s really stifling development too. As far as I can tell, one of two things needs to happen for the country to really move forward. Either ponies need to be shown how to use their magic actively, or more mundane forms of energy distribution need to become widespread. Of course, I think the best option is both, but I’m not sure how the math plays out.

“I suspect a generator could be created that ran off of magical power. I don’t see any reason why it couldn’t. As best I can tell it would be clean and, unless it’s horribly made, generate plenty of electricity. It seems like metaphysical power is an order of magnitude more potent than physical energy.”

“Uhh… not sure I’m followin ya, sport. Whachya mean by more potent?”

“Well just think of it like this. Energy is energy, right?” At his sire’s nod he continues, “You have heat energy, light energy, and, of course, you have the energy that we all use which is a chemical energy from digesting food, right?”

“I don’t know the specifics, but I’m following you,” Title says encouragingly. Deed and Vines just nod along.

“Well somehow when we burn chemical energy, as in, our body uses sugar, whatever happens that converts that to magic seems to multiply how potent it is. Or, more accurately, in addition to that something happens on the metaphysical side that adds to it.”

“So… you’re getting more magic than you should?” Title asks.

“Yes! WAY more. Remember that first night I made my horn and I lifted dad up to see if he could break free?”

“Yeah…” Title nods along, “what you’re sayin is if you’d done that with muscles you would have been tired, right?”

“At least a little bit, yes. When I used the horn and whatever the heck magic is as a source I could have held him in the air for several minutes. That’s a colt easily lifting a far heavier stallion and holding him in the air for way longer than I could normally, and I did it using nothing but magic power. Think of how tired I would have been if I did that with only muscles, not even passive magic.”

“Huh… yeah, you shoulda been winded at least.”

“I ain’t that heavy,” Deed complains with a pout.

“You were like four times my weight! In fact, it was only a little less than the weight I did on the press machine at the gym and that was a month and a half after I made the horn the first time. And it still wasn’t easy with no magic.”

Vines reaches over and pats her husband’s hoof. “I think you’re just fine the way you are, honey.”

“Aww, thanks babe!” Turning his snout up and away from his son he adds, “At least somepony around here thinks so.”

Cure rolls his eyes at the dark stallion and turns back to his mom. “So anyhow, I’m betting with a high powered enchanted gem we could build a generator and get way more power out of it than we put in. I’m just not sure how big of a crystal would be necessary to, say… power a house with modern electronics for a day.

“It’s possible that, even if the crystal holds enough power, the scale may not be adequate. Of course, that’s completely ignoring all of the development that would be necessary to set up a power grid and everything else.”

“Yeah,” she agrees. “There’s… a lot of work to get from where we are to where that would be. Do you have any idea where they started?”

“No clue. A business, obviously. Maybe even one that was trying to sell electricity to the public. Either that or one where gas lighting was either inconvenient or unsafe. I just don’t know, though… that’s probably something that happened a hundred and fifty years before my earliest memories, give or take.”

“Ugh…” Title lets out an annoyed grunt, “I’m definitely seeing what you mean with the difference between pony and human technology.”

“Right. It’s weird how modern some stuff is given how far behind other things are. I can only assume it’s just a matter of different stressors. Military technology is, and I’m not exaggerating here, like four hundred years or more behind. This world is so much more peaceful than Earth, even with the occasional mix-up with dragons or griffons.”

“Right, right… I remember the fallout conversation,” Title reminds him with a grimace. “We don’t need to cover that again.”

“Sorry, mom. I know that stuff’s upsetting to you all. I try not to bring it up, but it is a valid comparison.”

“I know, honey. It’s okay. Ya know… you’re gonna be late if you don’t go get cleaned up soon. Somepony slept in later than normal today.”

“Right, right… No waltzin in fifteen minutes late. I know,” he says, shoveling the last few spoonfuls of oats in his mouth. “I didn’t see you hoppin outta bed either, ya know.”

“Why would I? Today is my day off. Well, sort of. You do have a few appointments before your deliveries,”

“Right, another deaging and a few manedo’s. Hopefully the clinic is chill today. I’m surprised they don’t have me flyin into Baltimare to fix somepony up before the holidays, though. Thanks for comin with me, ma.”

“You’re welcome honey. It would be silly not to; it’s not like I have a lot to do today.”

“They probably wanna give ya some time off around the holidays, champ. No sense overworkin an eight year old foal, after all.”

“Yeah, I guess. Thanks for making breakfast, dam. I’mma go hop in the shower since I didn’t last night.” Climbing down off his chair he gives her a quick nuzzle and starts heading for the stairs while grumbling, “I’ll tell ya, that’s one disadvantage of havin a coat. Human males can jump in the shower, scrub their pits, rear, and everything else, hop out, dry off, and be dressed and ready to go in half the time it takes just to get clean, never mind dryin off.”

Work was… work. A foal with an ear infection, a couple younger stallions that were badly hungover and probably dehydrated from the previous night’s partying, and an older mare with bad arthritis that he was able to fix up instead of giving her a steroid shot.

Cure couldn’t do much for the stallions. Nurse Gentle ended up giving them a lot of water and a couple of aspirin, then he gave them a general “get better” push with his magic. They both fell asleep in the lobby afterwards, and were still snoozing away when he ended his shift. Apparently they don’t normally call the paddy wagon in pony land, which is good to know.

After a quick lunch at home, Title and Cure make their way to Lemon’s shop to meet his afternoon appointments. She had taken to accompanying Cure most days so she could hang out with Lemon and sample her wares, though his dam would occasionally fill in for her if he had appointments right after leaving the clinic.

The first appointment was with a middle aged mare scheduled for a deaging. The deaging didn’t truly make anypony younger, but the effect is essentially the same. She was on the younger side compared to his average deaging patient, but that just meant he wouldn’t burn himself out completely getting her taken care of.

Take a fifty year old pony, fix up all their aches and pains, smooth their skin, remove any blemishes, revitalize their colors, give them the usual dental and vision fixes, and for all intents and purposes they might as well be twenty five all over again. Just with more disposable income and, hopefully, better decision making skills.

Unfortunately the procedure typically eats through almost every bit of his magic, so he has to drag the treatment out over half an hour or more to let his magic refill enough to finish. Fortunately as time goes on and he continues using all his magic several times per day his capacity is growing quickly.

Compared to three months prior his capacity has nearly doubled, which is simultaneously fantastic and disappointing. It’s real, measurable progress, granted, but in a magical world where an average adult unicorn is a walking car battery he’s closer to a triple-A.

The three parents had each been using the garden, his trees, or the rack of spices to dump their magic twice per day. As best they can tell their magic reserves had gone up by around a quarter, which is decent for an adult well past puberty.

It irks Cure a little to see everypony gaining more with, seemingly, less effort, but he acknowledges that, given their life of little magic use, they technically have a lot more ground to make up than he does when compared to what an adult unicorn can put out.

The second appointment wasn’t too bad; the mare was asking for color enhancement (brightening and style) and a “fat redistribution” which, as usual, meant she wanted a plump, soft rear. As part of the package, Cure ensures that the area in question, while nice and fluffy, also has the contouring that is considered desirable by the patient and, presumably, whoever’s going to be grinding on it.

The illusion crystal is an absolute godsend to ensure he’s getting it right as it allows him to fine tune the result to exactly what the patient desires. Of course, it doesn’t escape him that he’s basically sitting there projecting a picture of the client’s own ass in her face so she can custom design it, but it works great and he can’t complain about the pay.

Over the course of an hour and a half his gross income is 3250 bits from the pair, and while each represents a good chunk of an average pony’s monthly income they’re both absolutely thrilled to have the opportunity to get in and see him.

While not double his original price, as his grandsire had recommended, he did bump the deaging price up to 2500. Demand has not diminished at all, and so far every patient has been absolutely ecstatic with the results.

Heavy Lift, being the closest, is his first delivery for the day. With a skip in his step Cure makes his way to the gray colt’s house. After knocking on the front door, Cure eagerly waits for his friend to show up. Instead, Spring opens the door and gives Cure a warm greeting. “Heya Cure! Were you wantin to see if Heavy can come out and play?”

“Actually, Mrs. Showers, I was just stopping by real quick to deliver a present for him. I know foals don’t usually give each other gifts, but with my job doin really well I wanted to surprise everypony this year. Is he home?”

“Aww!” she coos, reaching over and pinching a cheek, “That’s so sweet! Yeah, he’s here. Come on in!” Turning, she immediately trots over to the steps, going up them and yelling for the gray colt.

As soon as Cure steps in the house and closes the door he feels a light weight settle on his withers. Before he can react, the little demon snatches Heavy’s present and takes off, shooting across the room and laughing. “HA HA! COULDN’T SMELL THAT, COULD YA FART WAVE?!”

Knowing he has no hope of catching the flier, at least not without destroying half the room, he simply sits on his haunches and waits. Being ignored is anathema to the filly, so it’s only a moment before she’s flying circles around him trying to get him to react. When Heavy trots down the stairs she turns to look at the new arrival, and Cure spots his chance to strike.

The second Fall Thunder looks in Heavy’s direction, Cure’s hoof shoots out and latches onto her side. The sudden, jolting stop causes the gift, a small box with a card inside it, to fly out of her hooves and directly in front of her confused brother.

“Mmm… looks like I caught me a stinky filly,” Cure growls, pulling her closer as she futilely tries to break away. “I wonder if she’ll smell better if we can clean up that belly!” he shouts, once again pinning the screaming filly to the floor and giving her raspberries all over her chest and belly, her laughing yells causing Spring to reappear at the stairs to see what’s going on.

“What’s this, Cure?” Heavy asks, lifting up the small box.

“Eh, it’s just a little thing for you and your sisters to share. I got everypony a small present since, ya know… the whole business thing is doin so well.”

“That’s for me?” Thunder asks from underneath him.

“Only good fillies get presents, Farty.”

“I’ll be good!”

“You promise?”

“Mmhmm!” she insists, nodding excitedly.

“Alright… you better,” he says, letting the girl up. She takes off and lands on top of Heavy’s withers and looks over his shoulder as he opens the present.

“A card from the ice cream place?”

“Read it, dude.”

“Wait… a full year of ice cream?”

“Yep, you should be able to get three sundaes every visit, but it’s only good once per week. I had to haggle a bit with the manager, so don’t lose that card. You can go get yourself something with your sisters whenever you want.”

Fall’s wings shoot out as she screams “ICE CREAM!” before she starts flying circles around the room.

Uncomfortable with a bunch of thanks, Cure waves and turns to the door, “I have a few other deliveries to make, so I gotta run! Have a Happy Hearth’s Warming Eve if I don’t see you before then, everypony!”

“Thanks dude! I really appreciate it!” Heavy calls from the door, waving as Cure trots home to fetch the next present.

Fortunately, the deliveries to Ferric Shine, Delta Coast, and Sapphire Sprint all went well enough.

Ferric was excited for her books and, as soon as she released Cure from a bone-crushing hug, he knew she would probably spend the rest of the day reading and getting ideas for things she could try at work.

Delta Coast was slightly hesitant to accept the gift at first. Cure can only assume she thought he was asking her to be his fillyfriend or something, because it wasn’t until he explained that he was giving everypony in the group a present that she breathed a sigh of relief and opened it. Apparently she had been eyeing a jeweled maneband at Midnight Gem’s store.

The band itself was a pink color, just a shade darker than her mane, while the band had small sapphire jewels decorating it. Cure had to keep reminding himself that “common” gems in this world, while typically used in jewelry just the same as Earth, have far less value due to how abundant they are.

Sapphire, being the more exuberant of the group, tackled Cure in a hug and nuzzled into his chest, planting kisses all up and down his chin after she opened her present. Cure was pretty sure her dam gave him a very generous discount because, in addition to the fancy jewelry box, she also got a lovely pair of sapphire earrings set in silver.

He had to consciously let her bowl him over, wary of flattening the girl like he had with Crosswind Drift after the sleepover, especially with her smiling sire standing behind her. Cure once again found himself beating a hasty retreat from the house when it took Midnight clearing her throat for Sapphire to finally release him so he could make his next stop. He’s pretty sure the parents weren’t upset with him at all, as they both seemed very amused when she first lunged at him.

Rising Pitch is somewhat surprised when she opens her door and finds Cure standing there. “Cure? Hey, how’s it goin?”

“Hey Rising, I’m makin the rounds giving everypony a small present for Hearth’s Warming Eve. Got a sec?”

“You got me a present?”

“I did get you something but I also had something a little different in mind for you, actually. Mind if we step inside and I’ll explain?”

“Umm… okay?” she warily agrees, opening the door and letting Cure in. He stops just inside the entrance and closes the door behind him.

“Well, you know how I’m doing cosmetic work and all, right? Err, not that I’m saying you need any cosmetic work,” he emphasizes, waving his hoof back and forth, “but there’s some things I’m not doing that I could be.”

Completely confused, Rising shrugs and says, “I don’t understand, Cure… what the hay are you talking about?”

“Arg… sorry, I should have planned this out better. You know how I can change my voice?”

“Yeah…”

“Well, I was trying to think what I could get you, and back when we all went out for treats at Lemon’s that first time, Solar made a comment that made me realize what would be perfect for you.”

“Okay… I don’t remember what he said, though.”

“He suggested that maybe, when you do get your cutie mark, it will somehow be related to your name. Do you like to sing?”

“Yeah, I like music and singing.”

“Great! Well, here’s what I was thinkin. How about I help you out with that by giving you a special treatment that I’ve not told anypony else that I can do? You gotta promise to keep it a secret, though.”

“Really?”

“Yes, definitely. I don’t want ponies knowing I can do some stuff. Can you keep this one quiet?”

“Sure, I didn’t tell anypony about the healing thing… you know, before.”

“Rising, sweetie?” a voice calls from the kitchen, “Is somepony at the door?”

“It’s a friend of mine, dam!” she shouts over her withers. “I’ll be there in just a second!”

“Here, I’ll make this quick,” Cure explains, “I can enhance your hearing a fair amount. You’ll have an easier time picking out notes with that. I can also strengthen your vocal muscles a tiny bit and make your vocal folds, the things that make our voices, more resistant to wear and tear and improve your muscle control in the area.

“If you do end up being a singer, that’ll keep you in the game longer, and the hearing and better muscle control should make it easier for you to reproduce sounds or train yourself to hit specific notes. Is that something you’d like?”

“Absolutely! What do you need me to do?”

“Nothin, just take my hoof a second,” he says, holding out his right hoof. She quickly latches on and he begins his work. He doesn’t give her the full treatment like his parents, but does move her hearing acuity to about the same level as bat ponies.

As he explained, the vocal fold treatment is more about reinforcing what’s already there without changing the shape of the folds themselves. Obviously stallions can hit lower notes and mares can hit higher, on average, but the space where all that happens is small, and not a good thing to tinker with too much on a filly that hasn’t gone through puberty yet.

“There ya go. You’re all set. I may need to do this again as you grow, but I’m fine with that. You probably won’t feel any different, but I’m sure you’re already noticing the difference in my voice alone.”

“I am… it’s… not louder exactly, but more crisp.”

“Yep. I think you’ll have a lot easier time figuring out when you’re right on a note now. Oh! I almost forgot the actual thing I got ya!” he shouts, pulling the box out of his bag.

“Okay, so first off I had a little help picking this out. You know how I’m a big stinkin cheater,” he teases, passing her the wrapped box from Midnight Gem’s store. “Go ahead and open now if you want. I think Coast was afraid I was comin on to her when I dropped off hers, so don’t go freaking out on me, okay?”

Giggling at the image, Rising takes the small box with a quiet thanks and begins tearing off the wrapping. When she sees it’s a jewelry box she freezes for a second and glances up to Cure. He just rolls his eyes and gives her a “go ahead " wave.

Sat on her haunches, she lifts the lid and puts a hoof to her cheek, pinking up some while looking inside. She’d been eyeing a pretty gold and garnet fetlock band that apparently she really, really liked because pupils don’t normally get that big in well lit areas.

“Uhh… ya alright there, RP? Need help putting it on?”

Instead of answering verbally she quickly nods and passes the box back and holds out her left hoof daintily. Playing along, Cure gives another exaggerated eye roll and sighs in mock exasperation.

It takes a moment for Cure to figure out the clasp, but once he does he takes a step closer and sits on his haunches in front of her to put it on. Frustrated with her not holding her hoof still, he takes her foreleg and puts her hoof on his chest to keep it from moving, then gets back to the clasp.

Just like opening it, closing the clasp is a little tricky and, just as he feels it click shut he hears a loud gasp, causing him to freeze on the spot. Cure looks up while Rising looks over her withers to find a cream colored mare with her head poking out of the kitchen, staring wide-eyed at the pair.

Cure gets a big grin on his face, leans forwards and wraps Rising in a tight hug getting a yelp out of the girl while meeting her dam’s eyes. “She said yes!” he excitedly yells, then plants a big kiss on her cheek, sets her down and runs to the door. “I gotta go tell my parents! They’re gonna be so excited!”

Not giving Rising a chance to say anything, he pulls the door open loudly talking to himself, “Oh wow I need to get a suit and a florist and a baker. OH!” he yells as he steps out, “I wonder if Lemon does cakes! I’ll be in touch once I find a judge!” he finishes, pulling the door shut.

Once outside he breaks into a full-power gallop and disappears into the distance, ignoring the “CURE WAVE!” shout behind him and cackling the whole way home.

“Knock, Knock!” Cure calls as he knocks at the door to Dawn’s house. He figures it’s right around three fifteen, so he doesn’t have much time to hang out before heading home to catch his taxi.

He can hear some shuffling on the other side and, in just a moment, the door opens to a somewhat surprised Emerald Aura. “Good afternoon, Cure. Were you doing something with Dawn today? Solar is not home right now.”

“Howdy, Mrs. Aura! Nope! I just came by to make a quick delivery,” he says, tilting his head back to the box on his back. The box is as long as his back is and over three hooves tall, wrapped in blue paper with an orange ribbon crossing it and a large, crimson bow.

“A delivery?” she asks, eyeing the large box.

“Yep! I got a little special somethin for each of the fillies that I go runnin with. I know it’s a few days before Hearth’s Warming Eve, but ya never know when ponies will have plans or will be out of town that night, so I figured I’d stop by a lil early.”

“Oh, I see. Come on in.”

“Thankya!” he cheerily calls, walking in the house as she shuts the door behind him.

Emerald waves Cure to a couch and goes to the stairs to call for Dawn. Cure hops up and sets the box on his left side while he waits for the filly. Turning back and climbing a couch herself, Emerald catches Cure a little off guard. “Before she comes, I want to thank you.”

“Thank me?”

“Yes. Solar is very excited about the tickets you gave him.”

“Oh. Yeah, I’m really glad Ms. Gale was able to help me with those. I hope he has a fun time,” Cure says, turning to smile at Dawn as she comes down the stairs.

“He also mentioned that you… encouraged him to introduce Starlight Shine to the family. I wanted to let you know I am grateful.”

“Eh, don’t mention it. Family’s everything, ya know? I think it’s well past time for everypony to accept that mistakes were made and to move on. Heya, Dawn. I got somethin for ya!”

“For me? You got me a present? It’s a few days early…”

“Ah, to be fair, I got everypony we run with a small present, but I splurged just a little more on yours, so don’t tell anypony,” he says with a wink as he taps the box.

“Can I open it now?”

“Oh yeah, absolutely. I’m giving everypony their stuff a little early so they can have it for the holiday.”

Dawn doesn’t hesitate to hop up on the couch with Cure and lay across his withers facing the box, despite her dam sitting just a couple meters away on another couch. Cure shifts slightly onto his right side so he is turned and can see her face and the gifts as they come out. With her horn lit, she quickly peels off the wrapping paper and opens the box, levitating out its contents.

The first item is a white winter coat. Cure had placed the order just after he started converting the siblings’ to the hybrid mitochondria cells, completely forgetting that they would no longer feel the cold. He went ahead and left the order as-is, though, since he still figured Dawn would need to at least pretend to be cold outside.

Now she’ll have a pretty coat to wear while out and about, and it will still help on the coldest days that would otherwise pierce the aura.

The coat, like most designed for a unicorn, has a hood with a sleeve for her horn to comfortably sit in and stay warm but still function. It’s a longer design that should go all the way down her back and over her rear to the top of her thighs. There are buttons on the sleeves so that it wraps around her forelegs for the first hoof or so and is long enough on the sides to completely enclose her barrel with buttons she can latch to completely cover her neck, chest, and belly.

“I know we have mild winters,” he says, shooting her another wink, “but I wanted to make sure you had something warm when you’re going out. We can’t have the cold weather scarin away the Sunrise after all. The coat’s mostly a treated, waterproof wool, but if you take a look at the inner liner I think you’ll be impressed with the material.”

Opening the coat, Dawn looks at the inside, not recognizing what it is. She gives a questioning look to Cure but it’s Emerald that recognizes the fabric. “Is that silk?”

“Yes ma’am. 100% pure dragline spider silk with embroidered enchantment lines so Dawn can add an enchantment crystal into the inner pocket there and have it either Warm her or do whatever else she’d like. Slow Fall could be fun,” he teases with a smile.

“Why do you keep trying to get me to jump off things?” she asks with a raised brow.

“So I can be there to catch you, my dear,” he melodramatically replies as best he can while being laid across. It gets a small smile from Emerald, so he counts it as a win. Any dam will be happy to see their daughter treated like a princess, after all.

“So corny…”

With his memories and advanced maturity, Cure gives the only response he can. He sticks his tongue out at the filly that’s pinned him down.

“Sweetie, that material is not cheap. You’ll want to treat it accordingly.”

“Eh, it’s a coat. Maybe don’t go playin hoofball in it, but the silk’s probably the toughest part of the whole thing. Not that I expect Dawn to get in any fights, but that stuff’ll turn away anything short of a ballista bolt. Seriously, it’s insanely tough material. Just maybe don’t stand in front of siege weapons, okay?”

“I’ll do my best…”

“I expect nothing less!” he declares, waving a hoof in the air. “You’re not quite done, though. I got you a couple other things in there. Since Velvet used wool for the outer part of the coat there was some extra material left over.”

Setting the coat aside, reluctantly, Dawn looks back in the box and sees another garment. Emerald’s curiosity gets the better of her, so she climbs off her couch and comes closer for a better look.

“Pajamas? Are these silk too? They feel like glass…” Dawn trails off as she slides a cheek across the material. Emerald’s looking a little jealous when she does the same thing, shock etched across her face at how smooth the material is. “Oh my stars… These are so cute! And the hat!” she yells in a squeal.

The pajamas are light blue like his coat with little suns peeking just over the horizon scattered about on them. They’re a near full-covering set with detachable stockings that fasten to the body of the outfit or can be removed for warmer weather wear. He even got the silly horn hat with a Celestia’s sun for the pom at the end of it, an extra touch that made him giggle when he saw it.

“Yep. Like I said, I gave the mare a bit too much material, so I figured if yer gonna be warm outside, why not inside too? Those’ll make ya feel like you’re sleepin on a cloud. I think there’s one more little thing there in the bottom corner, though.”

Tilting the box up so she can see down in the bottom, Dawn removes the crystal, eyes growing big as saucers. “CURE! This is a mid tier crystal! I was there! I know this cost you over six hundred bits!”

“A pittance for milady,” he scoffs, waving the cost away. “That one should be able to teleport you a hundred or so meters in an emergency, or if you put a shield spell in it, it really will stop a ballista. Please test that on a ponnequin though, I haven’t done the math to-”

He’s cut off mid-sentence when Dawn, cheating with her cheaty horn, rolls Cure on his back and wraps her legs around his chest, planting a big kiss on his cheek and snuggling into his chin. With Emerald right there, Cure quickly rolls his back legs to the side so he’s not left in the compromising position for more than a second, though he knows she absolutely got a front row seat to the show, brief as it was.

He still wraps his forelegs around the ecstatic filly and, were it not for Emerald’s presence and his need to get back home shortly, he’d happily take a nap right on the spot. “Mmm… nothin beats snuggles,” he happily sighs out, slowly rubbing his chin against hers.

“I must say, Cure… this material is beautiful. Is this from the boutique in town?”

“Yes ma’am, but the store doesn’t normally supply that stuff. This was all custom made. Shame you’ll outgrow it in a year or two, but hey… at least I know what to get ya for Hearth’s Warming in a few years, huh?”

“It’s beautiful, Cure. Thank you!” she cries, nuzzling further into his neck.

“Sure thing, babe. As comfy as this is, and I literally could fall asleep in like two seconds like this, I do unfortunately have to go.”

“Oh?” Emerald asks, “More deliveries?”

“You betchya. I got two more left and they’re the more problematic to get to.”

“Glacial and Drift?” Dawn asks.

“Yep. My sire was able to get a taxi and I got their addresses from Drift’s dam, Thunder Dance, when I went to the gym with your sire’s group last week. I told her I had something for the two of ‘em. Well, and a small thing for Wind. Apparently her husband will be there too, but it’s all good… he just wants to apologize in pony for that whole mess.”

Shockingly, it’s Emerald that voices some concern. “Umm… are you sure that’s wise, Cure?”

“What? Going up to the cloud house of the dude that got in a bunch of trouble when I can’t fly? I’m sure it’ll be all good.” Looking down to meet Dawn’s concerned face he simply explains, “I’ve made preparations. Trust me… I’ll be fine.”

Dawn’s seen firsthoof how tough Cure is, and she knows he’s quite a bit stronger than her sire. Unknown to everyone but her and Solar is the fact he can also reduce his mass like a pegasus, so even if Washout somehow tossed him off a cloud he’d probably be able to survive the fall. Never mind the fact that he could probably grow wings fast enough if he uses Slow Fall.

“Okay… just be careful. You are taking a Slow Fall, right?” she half asks, half commands.

“Two scrolls in a hidden pouch and a crystal each of Slow Fall and Cloud Walk. Nothing will happen. I’m delivering presents, after all. If he did something stupid Bulwark would skin him alive. Maybe literally. Your sire knows I’m going. They offered to have somepony accompany me, but there’s no need for all that. I still wouldn’t be surprised if Sgt. Song will have somepony tail us to keep an eye out.”

“Okay. Be careful, and good luck,” she says, planting another kiss on his cheek and climbing off of him.

When he rolls back onto his barrel he’s once again surprised when Emerald gives him a friendly nuzzle between his ears. “These are absolutely beautiful presents, Cure. I’ll be sure Dawn takes excellent care of them.”

“Thanks Mrs. Aura! It was nice seeing you.” Giving Dawn a quick nuzzle before turning for the door, he calls over his withers, “I’ll see you later for our run, Sunrise.”

While waiting for the taxi to arrive Cure gives his parents a brief rundown of the first six deliveries, and at the same time gears up just in case anything unexpected happens while he’s making the last two.

The taxi Deed had arranged for Cure was a single seater sized for an adult earth pony stallion. With Cure being just about a fifth or so of the volume, even if he’s relatively heavier, there’s room enough for him, the two potted flower sets, and the five boxes with the flight suits and brush sets.

Under the parents’ supervision the stallion pulling the taxi ensured Cure’s cloud walking is working before even letting him in the cab. He hadn’t yet activated the crystal, so his ability to stand on clouds just with his own aura is now confirmed.

Fortunately the stallion is used to wary earth ponies, so he gave Cure a few minutes to get used to the sensation. Once he had hooves on the clouds it felt to him like he would have to consciously want to fall in order to pass through, so the aura’s default state appears to be “on” unlike the mass reduction part of it.

With a quick nuzzle to the folks Cure hops in the cab and, faster than he’d expected, he finds himself shooting off into the sky.

Figuring he might as well get the awkward part over with first, Cure asks the driver… cabbie… whatever to take him to Drift’s house. Cure has seen the cloud housing from the ground, and he’s flown to Baltimare to heal disabled ponies. The climb up to the pegasus district is still asshole-puckering terrifying compared to what he expects.

Flying to Baltimare only takes about ten minutes, and while it’s certainly a little noisy, the transport that the hospital owns is enclosed, so he doesn’t have to see the ground shrinking under him or feel the sensation that he could tumble out. He also was snuggled against a pretty, soft, warm nurse mare’s tummy. This is an open air cab like a chariot, and while the wind is largely blocked by the driver’s aura or the enchantment, it is still present.

The worst part, however, is the view. It’s not unlike his memories of the taller roller coasters Edward had been on, but there is no five point harness or over-the-shoulder mechanism. There’s not even a seatbelt or a lap bar. It’s just a barely-adult-height wood and metal box with a glass panel at the front and a single forward-facing bench. He can’t even sit on the floor because he stashed the flower pots and presents there to keep them out of the wind.

It takes every ounce of willpower he has not to activate the Slow Fall crystal he has in a “pocket” of skin on his belly, but with the TK grip he has on the bench he’s confident he’s not going anywhere, at least unless it’s going with him. Annoyingly, the driver apparently gets his kicks in watching earth ponies almost soil themselves because Cure notices the dude occasionally turn just enough to look back and start snickering, far too quietly to normally be heard over the wind.

After a few minutes climbing they finally reach the half-kilometer high mark and level out, gliding towards the, basically, slightly larger residential block that houses nearly every pegasus that technically lives in Golden Hills, even if it is slightly to the northeast of the actual suburb.

Apparently when pegasi populate an area, their magic or their auras, Cure isn’t sure which and doesn’t trust other ponies’ opinions on the matter, saturate the clouds that make up their buildings, streets, and basically everything else to the point where most places can be stood upon safely, even without Cloud Walking.

The Cloud Walking enchantment or spell is still an important safety measure, and every pony without wings is required to show they’re covered before heading up. They are on their own as far as monitoring their spell’s duration, though. Opting to play it safe, Cure activates his crystal and, despite the spell and his innate ability, still prods at the ground carefully when they arrive.

It seems to be a tradition for the locals; whenever a ground pounder comes down in a taxi somepony starts taking bets as to how many times they’ll test the waters before they’ll jump in. It only takes a couple pokes before Cure dismounts and, even though he ignores the small, disappointed flock, he hopes the fuckers all lost some coin and never come to him to get their asshole wings reattached.

The actual area of the block is pretty small since most of the pegasi in the Baltimore region live closer to the city. Also, virtually everything is on the ground, so there’s no schools, parks, stores, or much of anything else but homes and condos.

“The house is that one right there, colt,” the cabbie says, pointing a wing at a three story house a bit wider and much taller than Cure’s. “Ya got me about forty five, so no rush. I’ll be here waitin.”

“Alright. Thanks, mister.” Cure grabs one of the large flower pots and balances it on his back. Stacking the three boxes with two brush sets and a flight suit held on his head, he makes his way to the front door and knocks. A few seconds later the door opens about a hoof and Drift’s little sister looks up at him with the sleepiest eyes he’s ever seen.

“Hello-” he starts before the door is shut in his face. “Huh…”

Cure had noticed that the inside of the house has actual flooring. It was some kind of tile or linoleum as best he could tell in the second or so he got a look. He can only assume that the inside of the house will probably be somewhat similar to a typical ground-based home. Maybe.

Just as he’s about to knock again the door is flung back open and Crosswind Drift’s scowling visage graces his presence. “Cure? What the fuck are you doing here? And what’s all this shit yer carrying?”

“Oh hey, Drift. I just thought I’d come warn you that word got out that you can make crops grow faster. There’ll be a few hundred earth ponies poking around your house any minute but I was hoping you could help me with these flowers before they get here.”

The reaction is everything Cure could hope for. It starts out concerned, then as she processes the words confusion reigns over her face, quickly followed by annoyance and the “I kinda want to punch you” look he has come to accept as her default setting.

“Cure is here?” he hears called out from inside the house.

“Is that Glacial?” he asks, face involuntarily lighting up.

“Yeah, stalker. You here huntin down yer Flame?” she asks challengingly.

“Sweet Celestia, Drift… I came here to bring you and your family some presents. Happy Hearth’s Warming.”

Scowl immediately disappearing, she only muster a soft “Oh” in response.

“Yeah… Feel like a jerk now?” he asks with a scowl.

“Kinda,” she admits, wincing.

“Good. It was a huge pain in the rear even getting up here. If Glacial is here I need to get the rest of the stuff out of the taxi. Can I set this shit down without it falling through? I don’t know how this cloud crap works.”

Glacial pops around the corner just as he finishes and, with a thoroughly confused look, asks, “Wait… you’re who Mrs. Dance said was coming?”

“Oh… she told you? Huh, good thing I didn’t go to your place first. We apparently have a failure to communicate here. Can I set this stuff down somewhere?”

“Drift, grab something,” she commands, taking the boxes off his head.

“The pot’s heavy. Use your aura on it.”

Drift nods, grabs the pot in her forelegs and, though she still subconsciously gives her wings a few little flaps, lightens it and lifts it off his back.

“I’m going to grab the rest. One sec,” he calls, trotting back to the cab and loading himself back up. “Hey dude, both fillies are here so this’ll probably be the last stop. If ya wanna take thirty or something, feel free.”

“Cool. Thanks, colt. Good luck in there,” he adds with a smirk and a wink.

Thunder Dance is waiting for him as he trots back to the door. “Hey Cure, I hope you don’t mind. I figured I’d save you a trip and have Crosswind bring Glacial and her dam over.” Pausing to look at the boxes and the pot on his back she asks, “Do you want me to take something?”

“That’s perfect! I appreciate it. Thanks Mrs. Dance. Umm, if you could get the boxes offa my head that’d be great. By the way, the planter,” he motions to his back with a hoof, “is kinda for all of ya. Well, one of ‘em is. Is Wind Shear here?”

“Yep. She’s waiting inside too,” she explains, setting the two boxes on her back. “Just so you know, my husband is home today. He wants to apologize if you’re still okay meeting with him.”

“Oh neat. Sure, I’m totally over that whole thing,” Cure assures her, waving away the concern.

“Wonderful. Come on in,” she says, stepping aside and waving a wing into the house.

Completely unsure what to expect, Cure trots in the house and finds himself in a foyer area. Off to the right is a short wall and, as best he can tell, a living room and it looks like a dining room, kitchen area is straight back and to the right. There is no stairwell, he notices. As he follows Thunder into the living room he gets a better feel for the house’s layout.

The living room takes up about a third of the ground level and goes straight up the entirety of the house and, again, there are no stairs. Each of the two floors above him have doorways leading off of the main room, but no doors.

It looks like those lead to hallways going to bedrooms or perhaps a home office, but he has no way of confirming it. Almost all of the furniture is cloud-made with only a few exceptions. There are a couple bookcases as well as a display case with the couples’ military recognitions in it, as well as some trophies and Wonderbolts memorabilia.

There’s also an occasional free-floating cloud surface at different altitudes, likely acting as a couch or napping spot, judging from the tiny filly’s tail tip hanging off of one.

The living room has a lot of bodies in it, but it’s plenty large enough for the smaller pegasi, especially since they are not limited to two dimensions. On the ground level floor are Wind Shear, Drift, Glacial, and Glacial’s dam looking over the flowers curiously along with a trio of cloud couches in front of him, to his right, and immediately on Cure’s left against the wall.

Glacial’s dam, in Cure’s opinion, is absolutely gorgeous. An inch or so taller than average for a pegasus mare, she has a bit more “crystal” in her pure white coat with a cobalt blue sparkle to her, especially on the edges of her wings and near her hooves. Her mane and tail are an aqua color and she has a matching snowflake for a cutie mark. On her withers is another young napping filly with a coat matching his own, though she seems to lack the crystal pony glisten that Glacial inherited.

Tailwind is sitting on a couch in front of Cure on the back wall looking somewhat awkward and pitiful, so Cure decides to get that out of the way as soon as he sets down the flower pot.

He takes a few steps towards the off-white, red-maned stallion before it dawns on Cure that he’s not even completely sure what the dude’s name is. He’s pretty sure he remembers what Grandpa Brick called him, though. “It’s Tailwind Flare, right, sir?”

“That’s right, son,” not giving Cure a chance to say anything he continues, “Look, I’m terribly sorry about how I acted that day, Cure. I just saw my oldest being stood on and… well… I have no excuse, but I hope you understand that I just overreacted.”

“I do. I get it. I mean… I can see how you woulda been really ticked. I was pretty upset that day, I’m not gonna lie, but I do get it. It’s been like three months, so I’m totally over it. All is forgiven, just… please, look at the entire situation if something like that ever happens again.”

Sighing in relief, Tailwind nods in agreement and gives a small smile. “Right. Yeah. I appreciate it, colt. I understand you’ve been good to my daughters despite the way I acted and, I wanna tell ya, I really appreciate it.”

“Eh… I had nothin against them. I wasn’t even really mad at Wind once the whole thing was over,” he admits with a shrug. “It’s just foals bein foals. I kinda figured they would do something as soon as I walked away from them at the ice cream parlor, honestly. I just had hoped cooler heads would prevail, but, yeah…” he says, trailing off with another shrug.

“Yeah, like ya said. Foals will be foals. I just wish I’d acted like an adult, but… yeah.”

The two stand there awkwardly for a moment. “Does it ever feel like dudes suck at talking about crap like this?” Cure asks.

“Oh stars, yes. Can we please be done with this?” Tailwind asks, holding out a hoof.

“Sweet Celestia, please. Feelings are for mares,” Cure agrees, giving it a bump. “Next time let’s just beat our chests and yell at each other and grunt or something. It’ll be a lot less painful all around.”

“HAH! Sounds good to me, son. So you best get over there,” he waves a hoof at the mares, “before they start eatin all them flowers. Unless that’s what they’re there for, that is.”

“Yep, good talk dude.”

Tailwind grunts and slaps his chest with a fetlock in response as Cure chuckles and walks away. “Okay everypony, before anypony starts diggin in, I better explain.”

Drift jumps in before he can even get started. “What’s up with the flowers?”

“Umm, I’ll get to that, just don’t eat anything, please.” Turning to Glacial’s dam he introduces himself. “Hi. I’m certain if I’d met you I’d remember it. I’m Cure Wave. Nice ta meet ya!”

“Hello Cure. I’ve heard a lot about you,” she teases with a smile, quickly glancing to Glacial and back. “I’m Snowstorm Burst. It’s a pleasure. So,” she starts, looking back to the flowers, “how about you tell us what you’ve got here. They smell heavenly.”

“Yes ma’am,” he replies with a smile, getting an eye roll from Drift and Wind. “But first, lemme explain. I’m making a few early Hearth’s Warming Eve deliveries since I never know if anypony’s gonna travel or have other plans on the actual holiday.”

Sitting on his haunches and waving to the group with both forelegs he explains, “I’ve had a fantastic year; I have three siblings on the way and my business is doing very well, so I wanted to get everypony something to celebrate.” Nodding towards Drift and Glacial he continues, “If you two want, you can open the bigger boxes first. The smaller one is related to the plants. Just no tackling me, Drift!”

Cure feels a little guilty that he didn’t get Wind anything but the brush set, but she’s definitely fallen more into the “friend’s older sister” column than an actual direct friend. She’s either been unavailable or uninterested in any of the groups’ other activities since getting a coltfriend, even though she has regularly shown up to run, so he figures the flowers and brushes will be good enough, not to mention the free workouts themselves.

Wrapped in paper to match each filly’s colors, they quickly tear the large boxes open and simultaneously lift the flight suits out, squealing in excitement. Tailwind’s curiosity apparently is getting the better of him because he’s moved over to have a closer look.

Cure had shown the boutique mare the girls’ colors and asked that, to some degree, the suits mimic the Wonderbolt’s design, but in different colors.

Drift’s dark purple coat and blue mane and tail made it hard to come up with a good color that matches both, but they ended up settling on a lighter pink color similar to his mom’s coat. The lightning bolts are all in her royal blue color.

Glacial’s lovely platinum color and bright, icy blue mane and tail ironically look fantastic with purple, so despite her friend’s coat being a near match, if a little darker, they agreed that “pure” purple is the right color for her with the lightning bolts also matching her mane and tail.

Despite his request, he’s quickly surrounded on both sides by gushing pegasi fillies rubbing all over him while hugging him and flapping their wings all about. It’s… not a bad feeling, but a tad awkward, especially with three sets of parents’ eyes and one older sibling’s are pointed his way.

Sitting on his haunches he carefully wraps a foreleg around each, mindful of their wings, and gives them both a gentle squeeze and a nuzzle. “Okay, okay, you’re welcome. I know, I’m awesome, I tell everypony that all the time, but nopony seems to believe me.

“I still gotta tell you about the plants,” he insists. He still gets one last nuzzle and a peck on a cheek from Glacial and, shockingly, a smooch on the other side from Drift before they skip back to their dams to show off the suits.

Thunder takes one look at it and recognizes the material right away. “Are these silk?!”

“Yes ma’am. They’re pure dragline spider silk and that stuff’s as tough as it comes. They’re layered a couple times over too, I believe. You two need to be really careful in those suits because they’ll be Tartarus to cut off if that were ever necessary. Honestly, if you get hurt and you’re in that suit, you may want to fly to me, not the clinic, and leave the thing on. They’ll probably keep everything in about the right place while you’re hunting me down.

“Those also have embroidered enchantment lines on the inside layer. There’s a pocket on the inside near the top of the zipper where you can put a crystal. Right now each one has a shield crystal in it.”

“Those are mid-low’s, so they won’t take a very heavy hit, but if you crash you should be okay if you have your aura lightening ya up. Dawn can switch that out for other things like durability. Since I have an active-use special talent, I can recharge those, but please don’t test the shield if you can help it.”

“Wow,” Thunder gushes, “These must have cost you a fortune…”

“Eh, I wouldn’t worry about that. Besides, it’s kind of thanks to Drift that business has been so good.”

“Damn right! You’re welcome,” she triumphantly yells, getting a wing smack and a light glare from her dam.

“What’s with the flowers?” Wind asks, waving at one of the pots.

“Okay, so… being an earth pony and having my special talent, I have a little more flexibility when working with plants than most do. I’d asked Glacial one time how hard it was to maintain feathers and she mentioned how expensive good, scented oil is. So… there ya go,” he says, waving at one of the stalks. “Anypony have a knife or somethin sharp?”

“One sec,” Thunder calls, trotting into the kitchen. She returns a moment later with a knife in her mouth.

“Cool. Just cut one of the little fruit things open. I think you’d normally want to do it over a jar or something, but it’s fine if it gets in the soil, so just maybe cut it over the pot, I guess. I’d suggest harvesting them as you need them, but they should grow back pretty quick even without an earth pony minding them.”

Nodding, she sits on her haunches, plucks a lavender bulb, and cuts a slit in the top of it. As soon as she does the floral scent is released and Cure can see everypony scenting the air. Jabbing the tip of the knife into the fruit, she pulls it out coated in a shiny, clear oil, then looks to Cure with an arched brow.

“So I made you all scented, hydrophobic, oil flowers. It should be every bit as good as a waterfowl’s oil, safe to eat, antifungal, antibacterial, and have a really nice shine to it. They should smell like jasmine, lavender, lilies,” he says, shooting a wink to a smiling Glacial, “and honeysuckle.

“Just be careful cause they don’t make seeds or anything. I didn’t want some invasive plant spreadin all over. If something happens to those I can replace them. Oh! I almost forgot, the leaves have some of the oil on them too, but they didn’t get as much of the scent as the pods did. Still if you just need a quick touch up or want to take some with you somewhere that may work better.”

Waving to the three boxes he tells them, “Go ahead and open the other box, ladies… I’m sure you’ve guessed what’s in there by now.

Happily tearing into the other box, the girls are ecstatic when they find the brush sets, though they manage to refrain from jumping on him this time. Thunder wipes a bit of the oil down a couple primaries, stares at it for a few seconds, nods, then takes the knife and the bulb back to the kitchen before coming back.

“I did have one other thing I was willing to do, but this’ll be up to the parents. And you are all included if you’re interested. Mrs. Dance already got this with the other pegasi and bat ponies under Sgt. Bulwark…”

“The eyelid things?” she asks.

“Yep. Nictitating membranes. I didn’t wrap those, thank goodness,” he jokes. “Mrs. Burst, are you familiar with them?”

“Yes, I am. I’m not sure about… changing my eyes, though,” she says, scrunching up her muzzle.

“Eh, it’s not for everypony,” he agrees with a shrug, “but they are useful.”

“You should really consider them, Snowy. I’ve had them for a couple weeks and they’re great in the air, especially on bright days or when there’s a lot of clouds bouncing light around. I’m sure they’ll be very helpful when we have a fresh layer of snow.”

Wind waves a wing in the air yelling, “Do me!”

Cure waves the girl over and, after getting an approving nod from her dam, holds out a hoof. After giving her the enhancement and walking her through the opening and closing training he lets go. Drift is quick to follow and Glacial eventually manages to convince her mother to let her get them as well.

“Mr. Flare? You haven’t been at the station when I’ve been there on Fridays. Do you want a set?”

“If you don’t mind, sure,” he nods, holding out a hoof. Cure’s talent lights up when he activates it on the stallion. Cure feels his shoulders slump at the results. Tailwind has the same condition that Static Arc did, and is only producing female sperm. He still gives him the membrane and goes through the training motions, but he also asks for a word in private.

“Now that you’re all set there… Could I speak to you and Mrs. Dance in the kitchen for a moment, please?”

The suddenly concerned pair follow Cure to the kitchen under the worried looks of the other three in the room. Speaking in a low voice, Cure explains, “So… when I use my talent, for lack of a better analogy, I get a picture of the pony in my mind. If there’s something wrong it’s basically circled in red, okay?”

“Uhh… am I dying?”

Emphatically waving a hoof, Cure reassures him. “No, dude… you’re fine, mostly, I guess. Umm… this is kind of sensitive though, so please don’t punch me when I tell you, okay?”

“No promises,” he jokes, getting a wing smack and a glare from his wife on his right. “Jeez, I ain’t punchin anypony, certainly not a foal, c’mon…”

“So there’s no good way to say this, but there’s a reason you only have daughters.”

The pair pause completely while the words process. “What?” Thunder asks in shock.

“You mean my… uhh…” he trails off, motioning vaguely towards his back half.

“Yeah, dude. I’ve seen this before too. I can’t go into details, ya know, confidentiality and all, but I’m almost wondering if something’s going on. I can’t tell why this is happening, just that it is. I can fix it. But let me tell you… I do not care for either the implications or the steps needed to resolve the issue one bit,” he adds with a grimace.

Mulling the situation over in his mind while the two share a few words, Cure can only come to one conclusion. He will not be able to keep his anonymity for any longer than absolutely necessary. This could be a widespread pandemic of some kind. What’s worse is, he has seen no reason why it’s happening; unsurprising given he’s only had two instances he’s found so far.

“Umm, maybe you should go tell your daughters you’re not dying. They may have made the same assumption you did,” he suggests offhoofedly while thinking.

On the other hoof, this could have been going on for hundreds of years and nopony would have known. Nopony seems surprised by the fact that there’s a six to one gender imbalance, and at least going back a couple hundred years this has been the norm. The best solution for now is to wait and discuss this with his parents, then go from there.

Barely paying attention, Cure watches as Thunder goes back out to the living room to tell everypony something, then comes back in and looks to the young colt.

“Okay… I… ” Cure starts before trailing off, getting curious looks from the two. “I hope you both understand, but before I say anything, I’m going to ask you each for an oath to not repeat what I am about to tell you. In doing so, I promise you will not be jeopardizing anypony else’s life or anything like that.”

“We’re both oathbound guards, Cure,” Thunder explains. “Is what you’re going to tell us going against anything we already swore?”

“I… don’t think so? Probably not. I’m just going to tell you something I can do to help, so… no? Not unless the oaths you swore are really weird,” he answers with a shrug.

The two share a look and, after a moment, nod. The oath surprises Cure because it is almost, word for word, identical to the one that Solar recited. Apparently the older colt picked it up from his sire or something.

Thunder goes first. “I swear by the Sun, the Moon, and the Stars that, barring a direct order from Her Highness and except in situations of grave peril, I shall tell no soul of this conversation.” After Tailwind repeats the oath they both look at him expectantly.

“Okay. I haven’t told anypony but my parents this specifically because I don’t want to deal with it until I’m older. I don’t know if I’ll be able to wait six and a half years until I’m an adult, though, and I’d feel horrible not helping you two now while you’re still young enough.

“Right now your boys are set to female only, dude. I can flip that switch the other direction. Keeping that a secret isn’t against any other oaths is it?”

Thunder barks out a laugh and, with a chuckle, Tailwind shakes his head no and explains, “No, son… I think you’re good there. They don’t make us swear oaths to tell everypony what’s going on with our, uhh…” he trails off, scrunching his muzzle trying to think of a tactful way to say it.

“Balls? Gonads? Acorns? Family Jewels? Nads? Nutsack? Coin purse? I can keep going,” Cure offers, getting chuckles out of the two.

“I don’t think an eight year old should know that many different ways to say that,” Tailwind amusedly points out.

“Yeah, I don’t think an eight year old should have a special talent that, in a way, damn near crams them in his face either, but here we are,” he points out.

“Wow. That sounds awful,” Thunder sympathetically says. “If you could do that, Cure… I don’t even have the words. We’ve tried three times, as you may have noticed, not that we don’t love our fillies more than anything, but…”

“No, I get it. We have way too few colts in this country. It’s… like a major problem,” he agrees, getting nods from the pair. “Okay, so, that’s well and good, I can fix that issue, but there’s one more thing I can do come spring. I can cause your body to produce a second egg, so come see me when estrus starts, Mrs. Dance.”

“Twins?!” she asks, wide-eyed and wings lifted.

“Yep, my dam is carrying two right now. I’m begging you, just… don’t break your oaths, please. I will eventually tell ponies. I just don’t want to have to fly all over the country adjusting testicles and ovaries until I’m at least an adult, ya know?”

“I think we can do that, son. Now… what do we need to do here?”

“Well, step one is for you to turn so ya ain’t facin my direction. Last time I did this, even with the area numbed, there was a bit of a… well, reaction, let’s say.”

“Ah… horseapples. That’s… not okay.”

“I can’t help but agree, but them’s the breaks.”

“I’m not familiar with the expression, but I think I understand.”

“Ah… that’s the way the cookie crumbles?”

“That works.”

Tailwind turns right so his left side is to Cure and, instead he’s facing his wife. Cure turns so his back is to the patient and sits down. Reaching back with his right hoof, Tailwind grabs on with his left and Cure starts by numbing what he can, then begins the treatment.

“Oh… wow!” he calls out, wings popping up and eyebrows shooting into his mane. “Yeesh… damn, colt… you weren’t kidding. Gimme a second here,” he mumbles. Thunder has covered her face with a wing, apparently completely uncomfortable with the entire situation. Cure can sympathize; he’s not exactly thrilled with circumstances either.

“We’re only halfway there, sir. Get ready.”

Cure finishes the heal and, once he identifies the change that his “fix this” command adjusted, he sends his magic back in to make a similar change to the rest of the area, eliciting a small shuffle dance from the stallion. Once he’s done he un-numbs everything and lets go and continues looking away.

“Ya know… I’ve compared this talent to a golden ticket. In a way, it really is… I’m making more money at eight than most ponies ever do. On the other hoof, I get detailed scans of every pony I use my talent on crammed into my brain.”

He’s surprised when a pair of white wings and forelegs wrap around him from his right and Thunder plants a kiss on his forehead. “Just think of the good you’re doing, Cure. I can’t begin to tell you how grateful I am for everything. Are you sure you’re okay helping with this come spring?”

“Yeah,” he says, leaning sideways into the hug, “It’s what’s right. I wouldn’t be a good pony if I didn’t use my talent to help.”

“Umm, I’m okay now,” Tailwind calls, “I feel weird saying thanks, but, uhh… I’m very grateful, Cure. Especially given… ya know.”

“Like I said sir, all is forgiven. Obviously.”

“HA! Yeah. You are a good pony, son, don’t doubt that. We should probably head back…”

“Yep. I’m sure they’re a little worried. Thanks, Mrs. Dance. Can’t get enough of them wing hugs.”

“I’ll give you one every time I see you, Cure,” she says, smirking down and giving him one last squeeze before letting go.

“Nice!” he cheers with a hoof pump.

The three rejoin the others in the living room. Both fillies have their suits on and show off for them when they walk in.

Thunder reacts first, letting out an impressed whistle. “Woah… very fancy, girls!”

“Wow, they look just like the real thing, babe. Very impressive, Cure.”

“Meh, credit where it’s due. The mare that runs the boutique, Velvet Stitch, does good work. You two will have to come by sometime and let me watch ya practice in those, okay?” he asks, getting vigorous nods from the two. “Great! So, how do they feel?”

“They’re amazing! It feels great on my coat!”

Drift agrees with an eager nod. “It does! This fabric is amazing! Do you think I could get a set of sheets made from this?”

Thunder barks out a laugh while shaking her head no. “Cross, baby, I think you’re underestimating how much that material costs.”

“Uhh… a lot?”

“Maybe if you’re really good all next year somepony will get you a set for Hearth’s Warming,” Cure teases.

Both freeze in place and, at the same time with the same wide-eyed look chorus, “You’d do that? Really?!”

Cure scrunches his muzzle, turns to Tailwind, and while waving a hoof at them asks, “Have you ever figured out how the hay mares do that?”

“No. Every time I ask they insist it’s a ‘mare thing’ as if that explains it.”

“It’s gotta be some kinda supernatural phenomenon. I wonder if anypony’s ever looked into it. Do mares have some kind… I dunno… limited hive mind connection or something?”

“Colt, if you figure it out they’ll build monuments in your honor for centuries.”

“No thanks,” he mumbles, turning back to the girls and nodding. “Yes, really. Probably. I’m not completely sure you have it in ya, Drift,” he accuses, watching as her brows furrow and wings start to lift. “Ya seem a tad on the aggressive side, ya know…”

“I’m not aggressive!” she insists, looking ready to pounce.

“Uh huh…” he slowly nods. “We’ll see, I suppose.”

“I’m not aggressive am I?” Glacial innocently asks, spreading her wings slightly and swaying back and forth.

Cure does a hard swallow and quickly shakes his head no.

“Does that mean I can get a set if I’m really good?” she asks, approaching and slowly nuzzling across his suddenly glowing cheek.

Speechless, he can only slowly nod in agreement, unaware of the rest of the room snickering at the enthralled colt.

Done being ignored, Drift leaps on Glacial and the adults start laughing at the spectacle. They only let it go one glorious moment, sadly, before separating the girls and snapping Cure out of his trance.

Glacial joins her dam on one cloud couch and Drift is stuck between her parents on the other, glaring. Wind hops up on her sire’s right, sandwiching him between his daughters, minus the snoozing foal above them.

“So,” Wind starts, “what was wrong with our sire?”

“I take confidentiality very seriously, so I won’t say anything.”

“It’s okay, Cure,” Tailwind volunteers, “he just found something wrong he was able to help me fix. It’s all good now.”

“Cure, dear,” Snowstorm calls, leaning to her right and patting the couch between her and Glacial, “how about you come join us and tell us how you learned about crystal ponies. I’ve found so little about the history I’m curious what you know.”

“Oh, sure.” Cure trots around the couch and hops up between the pair, barely fitting between them and rubbing sides with both. “Honestly I think I shared most of what I know with Glacial already. I just wish I could remember the book, but I read a lot over the summer.”

“The crystal ponies lived in the aptly named Crystal Empire up north of Equestria. Some artifact they had made the place hospitable but one of the ponies there had some kinda problem with the princess that ruled the place, Princess Amore.”

“He’s a unicorn and he somehow takes over with shadow magic and mind control. Princess Celestia went to help and somehow the whole place was banished away. Glacial said a crystal pony like your great granddam will just pop up occasionally with no idea how they escaped.”

She nods along with a sigh. “That’s what we know too. The unicorn was named Sombra, but that’s about the only detail you were missing.”

Looking up at the filly on her withers Cure asks, “Does the whole coat color thing show up later?”

“No, honey. It just doesn’t always pass onto foals.”

“Oh… do you want me to add it to her coat?”

“You could?”

“Absolutely.” Holding out a foreleg he modifies his coat to add a similar effect like Glacial has, just in his colors making his leg take on a metallic blue shine, with a slight hue of purple where the light is hitting it differently towards the sides. “I wouldn’t do that for anypony without crystal pony heritage, but I could.”

“I… I need to check with my husband.”

“Sure. Just let me know,” he casually says, changing his coat back to normal. “So, is anything exciting happening with the guard?”

“Not much we can talk about,” Thunder explains. “Really, other than the occasional bar fight in the city or drunk sleeping in the park there’s not much going on.”

“Yeah,” her husband nods, “I had to deal with a pony covered in… uhh… a mess she made when I found her sleeping outside the bakery’s door at six in the morning. They found her lying there under a blanket when they were trying to get started for the day. Ended up having to climb over her just to get in the door… then wash away the mess.”

“She peed all over herself,” Wind says with a snicker.

“She’s lucky she didn’t freeze,” her sire adds while nodding.

“How’s your work going, Cure?” Glacial asks.

“Busy. I started today off at the clinic; that was slow, but then I had two appointments after lunch. Both were pretty involved. A deaging and some body sculpting and color work. Profitable but exhausting.”

“De-aging?” Snowstorm asks. The other parents are clearly interested as well.

“Huh... Drift and Glacial were there the first time I did it. I can’t believe they didn’t tell you. Deaging is a bit of a misnomer, but I basically clear out the symptoms of aging. Arthritis, eyesight, dental, skin toning, color enhancing, etcetera. It’s a pretty extensive makeover and I usually do it over a longer session since it runs me dry. The other mare wanted a bigger butt.”

The girls all crack up and the parents chuckle as he clarifies. “Yeah, she paid me hundreds of bits for a big, soft, round plot. To be fair, that’s a very popular request. This job is weird, but at least it pays.”

“What’s the weirdest thing anypony has asked for?” Thunder asks.

“A four hoof long tongue,” he immediately answers. Glacial looks completely confused but everypony else turns beet red.

“Why would you want a tongue that long?” she asks, causing Wind to start giggling.

“Eh, I can’t say much due to confidentiality, but there’s only so many users for something like that, ya know,” he explains, managing to keep a straight face. “Eating ice cream, getting the last bit of your drink at the bottom of the cup. I guess she thought it was useful enough to justify the cost.”

“I guess so,” she agrees, looking curiously at a cackling Wind and everypony else’s glow.

“She could probably lick her own friggin ears with that thing,” he adds. “Her wife seemed pretty excited too.”

Wind is hysterical at this point, drawing questioning looks from Glacial while Drift looks about ready to burst into flames.

“You… uhh… did it?” Tailwind hesitantly asks as Thunder’s head snaps his direction.

Shrugging, Cure answers with a nod. “Sure, why not? She paid and all, so who cares? Seems silly to me but whatever. The hard part was finding room in the throat for all that extra tongue so she couldn’t possibly choke on it.”

“Just out of curiosity,” he starts, ignoring the heated glare from his wife, “how much did you charge for that?”

“Being the first one I charged her a premium rate for specialty work. Why? Do you want a longer tongue?”

Thunder and Snowstorm each bark out a laugh getting more confused looks from the platinum filly. Wind has rolled off the couch laughing uproariously and pounding a hoof on the floor and Drift has buried her head under her hooves.

“Naah,” he insists, waving a hoof dismissively and valiantly trying to play casual.

“Oh… okay. Well if you do just say so. I don’t get the appeal but I’ll give you one for free since yer a friend’s sire and all.”

“I think you should, honey,” Thunder suggests, snorting so hard she has to wipe her face. Snowstorm is literally vibrating beside Cure trying not to laugh out loud. Her wings are slowly rising and lowering, still folded, brushing up and down Cure’s side. It feels nice.

“My tongue is fine the way it is,” Tailwind insists defensively.

“Oh my stars, Cure,” Drift cries from under her forelegs, “I can’t believe you just offered to give daddy a four hoof tongue!”

“Why?” he innocently asks. “What’s wrong? Your dam seems to think it’s a good idea for some reason,” he points out, tilting his head curiously at the light mare. Looking back to his purple friend he asks, “What do you think, Drift?” He opens his mouth a little and sticks his tongue way, way out, then curls it up to look at it cross-eyed, causing the entire room to freeze on the spot.

Both Drift’s and Glacial’s jaws almost hit the couches as they stare wide-eyed at it. Cure wiggles the thing around some and has it do a few twisting loops just for show. Glacial’s dam is leaning slightly away in shock and Wind is rolling on the floor in tears. Tailwind is turned away, covering his eyes with a wing while Thunder just stares in awe at the flexibility.

Waving the long appendage back and forth he asks, “Do thoo thithk ith a keepah? Thith thin’k ith wewwy stronk thoo!” he adds. After he stares at it for a moment in thought he retracts it back into his mouth, then wrinkles his snout in thought. “Nah… I guess maybe if I had wings to preen or something,” he muses with a shrug, “but I don’t really see the appeal otherwise.”

Continuing with a straight face he adds, “I bet someday that mare’ll show up askin to change it back because she got it stuck in something or whatever.” Wind is in the fetal position on the floor, barely able to get enough air between laughs. “Other than that odd one most of what I do is colors, designs, fat loss or redistribution, and the aging thing. That’s gotten really popular now that word’s gotten out.”

“How,” Snowstorm starts before her voice cracks. Coughing to clear her throat she manages to ask, “How effective is it?”

“Very. As youthful and beautiful as you are, if your dam came and saw me, ponies would probably think you’re sisters, not dam and daughter. Of course,” he adds, looking between her and Glacial, “from the pattern I’m seeing I bet your dam is drop-dead gorgeous too. I’d be happy to give her a significant discount as well. The world could always use more beauty in it,” he adds with a smile.

“Look at you, you little charmer,” she says, giving him a beautiful smile. “I’ll talk to her about it next time I see her. I’m sure both of my parents will be interested.” Cure can’t hide his smile when Glacial leans more heavily into his side. Her right wing brushing against his barrel feels nice and he’d probably fall asleep on the spot if she put it over his back, but he suspects that may have some deeper meaning in pegasus culture.

“Great! The offer’s open to your parents as well,” he tells Thunder and Tailwind. “I consider it a friends and family deal. I’m just surprised more stallions don’t take advantage of my services. Then again, I am pretty booked up with mares, so I don’t really have a lot of open slots ever.”

“Yeah,” Tailwind agrees, “I wish I’d been around for the weight lifting thing. Static’s thrilled that he’s gone up over fifteen kilos on the wing row machine, not to mention all the leg, trunk, and neck muscle he’s put on. It won’t be long before my Dancer’s beatin me up,” he laments, reaching a wing over Drift to run down his wife’s back.

“Only when you deserve it, honey.”

“Eh… fair.”

“So, Mrs. Burst,” Cure asks, “what do you do for a living?”

“Oh my husband is the breadwinner in our family. I just take care of the girls. We’re hoping to grow our family next year.”

Cure can see when the same thought he has pops into Tailwind and Thunder’s minds. He needs to check on Glacial’s sire before the season starts just to make sure he’s not afflicted with the same issue. The pair are both looking at him waiting to see if he’ll say anything, so he simply mouths “later” to them and slowly shakes his head no.

“That’s great, Mrs. Burst! Who knows, maybe I’ll be there to help you when it comes time for delivery. I’ve already volunteered to help with the January births this year. I’m hoping they let me help my mom out when she goes into labor, but I know a lot of dams are coming in at once, so who knows.”

The suggestion seems to make the mare a little uncomfortable, so Cure clarifies. “I can make it so you don’t feel pain or anything and, I suspect, lend a hoof when a dam is in labor for real long. I don’t know, though, since this’ll be the first birthing season since getting my mark.”

“Oh… Aren’t you a little young to be working the births, though?”

“I think that just comes with the territory when you have a healing cutie mark, ma’am. I’m almost certainly going to be the youngest worker there, but I think I’ll be able to help out a lot if anything goes wrong.”

“I’m sure he can,” Thunder interjects. “You should see how helpful he is at the gym, Snowy. I just wish he’d been there when Wind was born. I was in labor forever with her!”

“That does sound awful,” Snowstorm hesitantly agrees. Extending a wing over Cure, she runs a primary down her daughter’s back. “Little Breeze took a while too. Oh sweetie, you were such a big, fat foal with chubby cheeks!”

Glacial blushes and turns away. “Daaam!” she whines.

“I can’t think of any reason I wouldn’t be able to help with that,” Cure explains. “I’m sure the clinic will have me with an experienced doctor or somepony that’s already delivered plenty of foals, but as long as I don’t run out of magic there’s not a whole lot I can’t help with. If I had more experience my mom would probably just have the foal at home.”

“Huh… I guess that’s fair, given your special talent. It comes with a lot of responsibility, doesn’t it?”

“Yep. It’s worth it if you ask me, though.” Pausing to look out a window, he turns back and says “Well, my taxi is probably waiting for me, I think it’s about time for me to head out.” As he climbs off the couch he adds, “I’m happy I got to share a little Hearth’s Warming with everypony. You all have a wonderful holiday! Mrs. Burst, it was nice to meet you… and your daughter, sort of. Please just stop by the house sometime if you change your mind about your eyes or decide on the coat thing.”

Everypony but the sleeping filly on the cloud joins Cure as he heads back outside. Thunder and the girls all give him a hug and thanks, Glacial and Drift each giving him another peck on the cheek and Wind wraps him in a warm wing hug as well.

When Tailwind approaches to give him a hoof bump he takes a half step forward and quickly whispers, “Get her and her husband to come get a check up,” before climbing into the cab and waving goodbye to everypony and getting thanks and wishes for a happy holiday.

Once he’s situated the driver takes off, climbing quickly and banking hard to get up and away from all the other houses and flyers. The two fly for a moment or two before the driver looks back and asks, “So, how’d it go, colt? Looks like ya got a couple smooches from the lil ladies there, eh?”

“It went pretty well, mister. Thanks for helpin out today.”

“Eh, sure thing, kid. Ya ever need me again just have ya sire send word, alright?”

“Sure thing.”

The cabbie drops Cure off at home and, after Cure passes the guy a tip, gives a jaunty wave and takes off. He was a little miffed at the dude getting a laugh out of his squeamishness, but Cure’s not sure how many cab companies there are in Baltimare and he’s unwilling to piss of one he may need again. Cure turns and finds all three parents poking their heads out the door, relieved to see him make it back in one piece and not at terminal velocity.

“Heya. Did I miss anything?” he asks, approaching the door. As soon as he steps inside he’s scooped up by his sire and gets squished in a standing pony pile. “Geez, I was just delivering presents,” he barely gets out between nuzzles and kisses from the three.

“We were worried, sweetie,” his dam insists, giving him one last kiss between his ears before backing away.

“Yeah, Cure,” Title adds, getting another nuzzle in before turning towards the kitchen. “We figured you’d be safe, but… ya know.”

“Eh, the mares were worried. I knew you’d be fine. Nothin much happened while you were gone, yer dam’s got dinner ready and waitin for ya though.” Deed sets his son down and musses up his mane before asking, “Ya look a lil worn, son. Somethin happen?”

“Yeah. I’mma go wash up, I’ll tell ya while we eat.”

“Alright champ,” he says, giving the colt a quick nuzzle and joining his wives at the table.

Cure hits the restroom and cleans up, then hops up on his chair with everypony else and the family starts digging in.

“So…” Title starts, “Tell us how it went.”

“It went really well. I finally met Glacial’s dam. Her sire wasn’t there, but she has a little sister I didn’t even know about. Come to think of it, it’s possible she has an older sibling too… I’ve never really sat down and talked about her family, though I do know her sire works on the weather team.”

“She a looker, champ?”

“Yep. She seemed a smidge taller than Thunder and her white coat was absolutely stunning. She basically sparkles. Snowstorm Burst is her name. Her younger daughter musta missed out on crystal pony gene, though, because she just had a normal coat. I told Snowstorm that if she and her husband agree I can give the filly a shine like she and Glacial have.”

“How did it go with Drift’s sire, honey? Did he give you any trouble?”

“Nah, dam. He was really cool, actually. He apologized right away when I got there and from there on acted just like normal. Who knows, maybe I just caught him at the end of a long day last time. I’m sure seeing me standing on his daughter didn’t help, even though he acted like a total plothole instead of using his brain.”

“Good,” his sire says with a firm nod. “With the way the guard reacted I figured he’d play nice, but ya can never be too safe. I knew you could take care ‘a yerself either way, son.”

“Right. I need to get these scrolls outta me when we’re done. It feels weird hiding them under my skin like that. Good idea, though, mom. The crystal worked perfectly and I could recharge it slowly after using it.”

“Oh? You weren’t able to walk on clouds without it?” she asks.

“I was, but once I got way up there I kinda got a little worried and figured I’d play it safe, so I used it anyhow. No reason not to,” he adds with a shrug.

“Good thinkin,” his sire agrees, “So why do ya look like ya just ran to Baltimare and back?”

Pausing between bites, Cure explains, “So, a few weeks back I encountered a stallion, right? Now keep in mind, I overwhelmingly deal with mares, so I’ve only scanned seventeen adult stallions ever. There’s you, obviously, Haze and Solar, Arcane Blast, the mugger in Baltimare, the one unicorn whose horn I fixed, Bulwark and a few of his troops, two drunks at the clinic this morning, then a few cosmetic patients and Grandpa.”

“Anyhow, this stallion had, and I’m sorry to bring this up at dinner dam, but he had a condition which meant he could only have fillies.”

“Something was wrong with his… uhh… equipment?” Title asks.

“Yes. Well, I expect this to remain confidential, obviously, but I encountered that a second time today.”

“Oh… that’s not good.”

“No it is not. I’m concerned that, in addition to our natural proclivity to have more females than males, there may also be something going on causing this. Both stallions have been pegasi, so I don’t know if that matters or it’s just coincidence, but if you look at the stallions I’ve scanned I only actually know five that have foals. You, Haze, Brick, a guard, and now Tailwind Flare. Three have sons and the other two had this condition.”

“Were you able to tell what’s causing it?” Vines asks.

“No… it was just there showing up as an issue when I scanned them. Just like dad’s shoulder was when I first got my mark. There was no obvious cause, so it could be anything.”

“Cure, honey, this isn’t a big deal,” Title insists. “We’ve gotten by for centuries like this, so don’t go stressing yourself out over something that you can worry about later.”

“Yeah,” he reluctantly agrees, “I guess so. That’s the same thought I had. I did offer to lend a hoof, though…”

Cure scoops up a big bite just as his sire speaks up. “Bold, son. Thunder seems like a nice enough lady, but I can’t imagine she was that smitten with ya,” he teases, smirking at his son’s choked cough and gets a whack and a “DEED!” from Vines.

He shoots his dad a glare while wiping the spittle off his face. “Har har, dad. I flipped the switch the other direction after talking to the two of ‘em. Tailwind’s producing only males now.”

Turning her scowl away from her husband, Vines says, “That was very kind of you honey, but I’m not sure you should have trusted them with knowing you could do that.”

“Yeah, Cure… that may not have been a good idea, given yer history and all.”

“It should be fine. Before I told them anything I asked for an oath to keep quiet about it. They both swore they wouldn’t share the conversation with anypony. Given what I’m doing to help them and how I’ve treated their daughters I’m pretty confident they won’t betray that. Plus I offered to do the same thing for Thunder that I did for you, dam.”

“Helping her have twins?”

“Yep. I told her to schedule a check up once her season starts. Glacial’s dam, Snowstorm Burst, said they’re going to try to have another foal come spring, so I asked Tailwind to encourage her and her husband to come get a checkup too. I don’t want to have to run around the country playing nut doctor,” he says, ignoring his mom and sire’s snort laugh, “but I can help friends at least.”

“Well… they’ll definitely stay quiet until spring, at least,” his mom agrees.

“Yep. I mean… I would probably do it even if they blabbed, but I would be pretty angry. And it would be the last time I ever helped ‘em. I think I mentioned before that loyalty is kind of a big thing for me, but I’m not willing to go back on my word on something like that.”

Author's Note

Okay, so that's two BIG chapters in a row. The next four are written and, I think, total about another 50k between them, getting us through most of January 909AB.

I may slow down my posting slightly if I start catching up too much. I had a five or six chapter buffer before I had to take a break in November and I added to that a little with a couple short chapters, but then I still posted the long chapters without any real delay, so those shorter ones ended up being basically bonuses.

That's fine and all, but I've noticed that when I start getting to where I only have a small buffer I seem to write less for some reason. I dunno, maybe it's just the time of year too; holidays are always stressful as fuck, after all. Well, we're almost through them!

There's a lot of things I want to do and, loathe as I am to do it, I absolutely have to stop moving so slow. We'll be skipping months at a time occasionally through 909 and 910 unless I come across a spot where something needs to happen, so for anyone that is hoping for another ~400k word year, no way! I would wager 100, maybe 150 tops, so mentally prepare yourself for that now. It's something I struggle with, in case the word count thus far (400 in 3.5 months of story time? wtf?) hasn't made it painfully obvious.

That aside, and I can not possibly say this enough, thank you, everyone for all the well wishes, comments, likes, and everything else. I appreciate them more than I can express. The next chapter will be coming out either Monday or Tuesday, so this right here is it for 2022. Everyone have a safe & wonderful New Years. Be careful out there, my friends, and I'll see y'all next year!

Chapter 44: Weapons of Man

Thursday, January 1st, 909 AB (7 days later)

Vines stirred, woken by a sound she’d only heard on a few very rare occasions. Deed had gone into town to party, but her son and wife had made cocoa and snuggled together the night before; the group falling asleep well before midnight, only rousing briefly when the unicorn flares lit up the outside. After a moment of watching they went upstairs and all fell asleep again, piled in the master bed.

Rolling over, she softly climbs out of bed to avoid waking Title. She wasn’t worried about waking Deed up at all. Judging by the strong scent of alcohol on the stallion and the unusually loud snoring he wouldn’t be up and moving for at least a few hours.

Following the sound to Cure’s bedroom, she pushes the door open to find her son, staring out his window at the sunrise and softly singing with his face resting on the glass, fogging it up.

For auld lang syne, my dear
For auld lang syne
We’ll drink a cup of kindness yet
For the sake of auld lang syne

And surely you will buy your cup
And surely I’ll buy mine
We’ll take a cup of kindness yet
For the sake of auld lang syne

I’ll never forget you, my dear
No matter the place or time
I’ll hold you in my heart, my dear
For the sake of auld lang syne

Vines’ heart breaks a little when he stops, shoulders shaking in silent mourning. “That was a beautiful song, sweetie. I’m sure she would appreciate you thinking of her.” He wordlessly nods, forehead pressed against the glass. She walks up behind him and wraps him in a hug, gently kissing in his mane. “Come on, honey. Let’s get you back to bed, okay?”

Vines takes a step back, giving him room to move back to all fours, then nudges him to his bed. Climbing up with him, she wraps around her baby, grooming his mane, ears, and cheeks and cleaning him up. The gentle motions lull him back to sleep after only a few minutes, so Vines lays her head down to relax beside him.

Only a moment passes before the door cracks open and her wife pokes her head in. “He okay?” she softly asks.

Nodding, Vines whispers, “Memories.”

“Ah. Poor thing. I’ll go start on breakfast,” she says, backing out and pulling the door until it’s barely cracked open.

Vines lays there for several minutes, content to rest her head on a foreleg with her nose in his mane. Figuring that breakfast should be ready in a few, she reaches for a pillow and holds it in front of Cure who immediately latches onto it and pulls it against his barrel. Unable to resist the cuteness, she plants another kiss between his ears, then slowly unwinds from around him and gently climbs out of bed, covering him with a blanket before leaving the room.

After washing up, she goes downstairs to join her wife, Title asking “Is he still asleep?” just as she steps into the kitchen.

“Yep, he fell asleep the instant I snuggled on him. You should have seen the way he latched onto a pillow, honey. It was so adorable I almost couldn’t force myself to leave him.”

“Yeah,” Title agrees while stirring the oats, “he’s quite the cuddlebug. Did I hear him singing?”

“Mmhmm. It must have been a song from before, though… I couldn’t understand half the words. It had a very melancholy sound to it, though.”

Sighing, Title nods in acceptance. “Well, we’re past the holidays now. Hopefully it’ll be a while before anything else brings back any memories.”

“It was the day Edward proposed to Cyndi… New Year’s Eve,” Vines explains, sitting at the table. “I think that’s what the song was about. The last verse certainly was about her.”

Title lets out another long sigh. “I hate seeing him down like he’s been. I know he’s doing his best to hide it, but ever since Hearth’s Warming he gets that look, you know?”

“I know, honey. It’s the date thing… for all he’s insisted Edward is dead and gone I think he still thought he was him, somehow. It really upsets me seeing him react like he has,” she admits, ears going limp. “I guess I should feel relieved, but I never thought it mattered in the first place.”

Title lays the spoon across the top of the pot and walks over to Vines, wrapping her in a hug. “He’s just mourning, babe. I’m sure it’s been confusing and upsetting. Just imagine; for the past few months he’s thought he somehow got a second chance at life in, to him, a whole new, magical world. Now he feels like the whole thing was just some cosmic mix-up and everything he knew and experienced wasn’t him.”

“But he’s been saying that all along!” she complains, leaning more heavily into her wife.

Title gives her another squeeze while nodding along, “I know, babe, but did he believe it? How many times has he caught himself saying ‘I did this’ and had to correct himself to ‘in my memories’ or whatever?” She plants a kiss on Vines’ cheek and goes back to stirring the oats.

“I know… you’re right. I guess it would have been worse if the dates were reversed. Ed or not, though, he’ll always associate that date with Cyndi’s death now. Oh I hope this helps him move on; I hate that he’s had to go through this.”

“Babe… I know this whole mess hasn’t been easy, but have you considered that if he hadn’t gotten those memories somehow then either he wouldn’t have gotten his mark, or it could have killed him? Or, and this is my theory, that blast of magic just down the road hit both of you. What exactly did you feel when you gave him his name?”

Vines furrows her brows in thought and sits in silence for a moment. When Title looks over her withers she glances up to meet her wife’s eyes. “I guess the best way to describe it is how it felt when I first used my magic to help those plants grow. It’s the same feeling he described when he got his cutie mark… I don’t think I’ve ever put much thought into how we come up with the names we do,” she admits.

“Huh. Well, I don’t know what it all means,” she admits with a shrug, “but Cure’s talked about higher powers and we’ve seen enough examples. Maybe we’re all part of some plan or something.”

After a few minutes of silence, Title pauses and looks over her withers at her wife before asking, “Hey… I’ve never said anything. I don’t know how he would react, especially now, right? Do you think it’s possible that there’s others out there?”

“Other ponies that have memories from a different life?” At Title’s nod she hesitantly answers, “I… guess? It could be possible, I suppose. After all, something is only impossible until it happens. You’ve seen how leery of being found out he is, though. How would they ever find each other?”

Title furrows her brow and wrinkles her snout in thought. Turning back to give the oats another stir she finally suggests, “The only way I could think of would be to put out some kind of anonymous notice, like in the paper or something. Something only another human or somepony that knows one would recognize and, hopefully, respond to that nopony else would.”

“Do you really think Cure would respond to something like that? I can guarantee you he would assume it’s a government trap or something. He already told me that the princess, at the very least, knows what a human is.”

“She does?” she asks, whipping her head around. “How?”

“Shortly after his memories came back he made some offhoof comment about a mirror that goes to a human world. He said it’s not the same one his memories are from. He described it as some kind of Equus, Earth mixed, nonsensical place. I asked him about it one time before bed and it sounds like another one of those things between worlds that just doesn’t make sense.”

“What’s that mean?”

“Oh, you know… The things from his plays? Some of them are just utter nonsense. This human world on the other side of the mirror sounds like a good example. Everypony… err, everyhuman-”

“Everyone. He says everyone or everybody.”

“Oh. That’s right. Everyone is some kind of human version of a pony here, but that doesn’t make any sense at all. Humans don’t live for hundreds of years, so how could there be a version of the princess over there? She’s been alive for way longer than humans live.

“He said they have a Princess Luna. Well, Vice Principal Luna, over there, too. If they decided to come here would that mean two more alicorn princesses? And how is being the leader of a school of some kind the equivalent of being the princess of an entire country of millions of ponies?” Pausing, she jokingly asks, “Did she get a thousand years of detention over there instead of being banished?”

Title chuckles at the idea, then after a moment of thought nods in agreement. “That doesn’t make any sense, does it?”

“No. You should have heard him rant about it, sweetie. It’s so adorable when he goes on his little tirades,” Vines says with a big smile. “He gets so passionate about the silliest things sometimes.”

“Yeah, usually it is pretty cute. Stars, I hope Dawn can keep him under control, though. That poor filly has her work cut out for her, especially if she’s going to try to do it alone. I just don’t see that working out, though… she’ll be begging her friends for help in no time.”

Vines giggles into a hoof and asks, “Did you see Cure’s face when Haze was talking about their wedding?”

“No… why? I was looking at him and Emerald the whole time.”

“He had made a comment about fetlock bands-”

“OH! Right! He gave one to that Rising filly, didn’t he? HAH!”

Vines nods excitedly, “He did! He had no idea! When Haze said something Cure’s eyes got huge for a second. Oh that’s so adorable. I’ll have to thank Midnight for that one. I’m surprised she didn’t have him give one to her filly too.”

Title can’t help but laugh at the thought. “I don’t think he likes her very much, though. Isn’t she the one that ticked him off at that rodeo?”

Waving away the concern, Vines explains, “She did, but that’s been months and they’ve been hanging out ever since. Oh I wish I would have gone with him when he delivered those gifts,” she finishes with a pout.

Both mares pause and look up as they hear heavy movement from the floor above them going towards the bathroom. Waiting in silence for a few seconds both of their ears droop when a thunderous fart is blasted out and toilet flushes. “Sounds like our sexy stallion’s awake,” Title snarks.

“Well… at least he’s get-” she pauses as another blast goes off, then lets out a defeated sigh, “at least he’s hopefully getting it out of his system before he comes downstairs.”

Vines hops up and fills the teapot with water, then passes it to Title to put on another burner. “I can’t believe he spent so much on all this,” she comments as she looks over the new stove. She turns and gets Cure’s coffee maker ready for when he comes down, then goes back to her seat.

Both pause again as they hear the heavy hooffalls make their way from the bathroom back to bed, followed by a louder “fwoomp” from him collapsing back to sleep. The two mares share a look and, at the same time, shrug and continue on.

“I can. The colt would give ya his tail in a heartbeat if you asked for it. Given his talent, literally I bet. In fact, he already did more than that for those pegasus fillies. I wonder what that little Drift brat would do if she found out how he made that silk. I doubt it would go as well as it did with Amy.”

“No, I don’t think that would go well at all,” Vines agrees, giggling at the idea. “I still feel guilty, though, honey. Don’t you?”

“Nope!” she immediately answers, popping the p. “I would normally, but I’m serious, babe. The colt’s never happier than when he makes you smile.” She rubs at her bump and adds, “I hope my foals all look at me like that too, someday.”

“Oh don’t you start. You know he loves you as much as a foal can possibly love their mom.”

“There’s no doubt there. Stars and sun have mercy if that colt ever gets mad at anypony on our behalf. I’ll tell ya, babe, we better live forever or he’ll come tearing through the afterlife makin a mess ’a everything till he finds us and brings us back.”

Both mares pause again when they hear a smaller set of hooves hop down out of bed. “Well that didn’t last very long,” Title comments. “His sire’s blasts musta woke him up.”

Sighing, Vines can only nod in agreement. “He is usually up at sunrise anyhow. I’m not surprised. Can you turn on the coffee maker? At least that’ll bring a smile to his face.”

Cure enjoyed his breakfast and his coffee with his moms. The mood was definitely somber, but the company was a godsend and the snuggle time afterwards gave him an extra hour of sleep. After waking up and spending a while reading, Cure felt the need to burn off some energy. Laying between his moms, he tells them he is going for a run in the woods.

“I don’t like you going into the woods alone, sweetie. It should be safe, but I worry when there’s nopony with you.”

“Dam, can you think of anything within a hundred kilometers that could sneak up on me, feasibly threaten me, and prevent me from fleeing?”

“A cockatrice,” she immediately answers.

“Nictitating membrane. Cockatrice… cockatrices? Whatever, they require direct eye contact, right?”

“They do,” Title agrees, “you would also probably smell and hear it from far enough away. If you hear a chicken clucking, move away and, maybe, just use your heat sense. I don’t think they’re out in winter anyhow.”

“I don’t know, honey…” Vines says, hesitating to agree.

“I’ll take my horn in a pocket just in case I need something with more range than poison darts or whatever. I could also do the wasp attack thing.”

“Why don’t you just fold the horn down into your mane, Cure?”

“Hmm… I think you’d still see it. A pegasus would, I bet. There was a comic book hero that may have the solution I could kinda use.”

“Comic book hero?” Vines asks. “I’ve never read a comic book, sweetie. What’s the solution?”

“He could extend claws out of his hands, except they weren’t like a cat’s. They were long, like the length of his forearm from his elbow to his wrist,” he explains while holding up a foreleg and demonstrating. After a quick facehoof he uses his horn to project an Illusion. “Man I always forget I can do that. Anyhow, his superhero name was The Wolverine.

“The claws he has were originally bone. I’m not exactly sure how they supposedly extended and retracted, but it shouldn’t be hard to pull off. I figure I can do something similar with the horn, but it’ll take a lil of the ‘ol Cure Wave special for me to make it work right.”

Both mares give him a questioning look.

He rolls his eyes and answers, “Cheating. C’mon, really? Have we met?”

“Shattap, Cure. What’s your plan?”

“So I figure I can create a sphincter kind of right behind the bump that can open and close when needed, then loop, basically, a lasso of muscle like a frog’s tongue around the base and going down into a sleeve under my mane. That’ll pull it back and to the side slightly so it rests to the left of my spinal column. I’ll still have to flatten the horn and segment it a little so I can twist my neck the same but I should be able to pop that thing in or out in a second or two. Maybe less.”

“That’s a neat idea,” Title agrees. “Can you create a pocket around it to cast while it’s stored?”

“Umm… not as is. That’s an interesting idea, though. Maybe I could make a really small horn somewhere in an internal pocket that would let me cast things like Slow Fall. Ya know, like self-targeted stuff. A small horn is fine when you’re doing point blank stuff,” he explains, trailing off in thought for a moment.

Finally shaking himself awake and finding a pair of bemused looks, he gives a sheepish look to the pair. “I’ll have to experiment with that a little, mom, but that’ll be great for keeping a shield up so nopony can scan me or catch me unprepared. For now I think internally hidden enchanted crystals would be better since they don’t need room to vibrate.”

“Huh, I hadn’t really thought about that before, honey… if crystals don’t have to vibrate to cast a spell… Well, how does that actually work?”

Cure frowns in thought and tries to come up with some possible explanation. After a few minutes of silent pondering he can’t come up with anything. “That right there sounds like a million dollar, err, bit question, momma. I can’t think of an answer. Scrolls and special talents don’t need to either. I wonder if it’s related to how us and pegasi use magic.”

All three trade looks of confusion before deciding to move on. Title speaks up first asking, “Hey Cure, you’d mentioned having kind of a… I think you said sleeve with redundant stuff in it, just in case. Any luck with that?”

Cure looks uncomfortably at his dam who is staring at him with a raised brow before glancing back to his mom. “Umm… yeah, kind of. It turns out that the only thing I needed in it was some nerves and stuff.”

“Nerves? What about a heart and lungs and whatever?”

“Well I have the spiracles for air. Individually they suck, no pun intended, but I have a bunch. I also played with an internal rebreather, but I need to find the right bacteria or microbes to really get that working well. I’m pretty sure I could find that if I went to the ocean; that’s where a big portion of oxygen came from on Earth, so I’m guessing there’s something that does that here too. I’m hopeful I could scan it then enhance it with magic.

“For the heart I went with a decentralized backup system spread throughout my body. Basically, every joint,” he explains, waving a foreleg, “has a… well, heart, more or less, but not like a mammal heart. I also have several throughout my barrel and in my neck.”

“Bugs?”

“Yup. Their hearts are kinda like a tube and a pump all at once, so they take up just a tiny amount of space around already existing arteries and veins.” Cure moves forward a tad and rolls onto his back. “Here, put your ears on my chest. Don’t freak out, dam, my heart’s going to stop for a second. I’ll be fine.”

Both moms lean down and press an ear against him a little warily. Vines still almost panics when the slow, steady “thum-thump” suddenly cuts out. In its place is a series of odd sounds, almost like running water coming from a tap.

“So yeah, I can just open the chambers of my heart and use the backup system to move blood, but they’re not very energy efficient compared to one huge, powerful muscle. That’s probably why all birds and mammals are built like that; energy efficiency. The little muscles can do the job, but getting them to all sync up to keep blood pressure steady all of the time also took a heck of a lot of experimentation.”

Both moms sit up, Vines looking a little distraught at the fact that her son, effectively, doesn’t have a heartbeat right now. The fact that he’s changing so much in his body is a concern too, but as long as his focus is on protecting himself she’s willing to overlook it.

“So is that what the nerves in the sleeve do? Run those hearts?”

“Yep, mostly. There’s also a bunch of processing centers for the different senses and stuff like that. It’s almost like a second brain, but I didn’t put the parts in there that are responsible for memories and decision making and stuff. At least, not beyond the bare minimum needed to take a few actions if, say, I was rendered unconscious or whatever.”

Furrowing her brow, Title asks, “What in the hay would happen if you were?”

“A signal would fire off through my nervous system to identify the cause and take action to respond; be it releasing adrenaline, firing off a small burst of energy through my nerves, upping oxygen intake, jolting my heart, or whatever. Really with the additional cushioning and armor in my cranium, not to mention the subdermal mesh, I can’t think of any way something could knock me out. A Stun spell maybe?”

“Can we test it?”

Cure’s eyes light up in excitement, but before he can agree his dam interrupts. “No! You are not shooting him with a stun spell!”

“Why not?” Title asks. “Can you think of another way to test it?”

Vines cringes at the idea, but hesitantly shakes her head no.

“From what I saw when Solar knocked those three muggers out it uses some kind of electric jolt. I’m sure there’s more to it than that because otherwise there would be a lot of different variables based on the size and physiology of the target. Humans had a few electric stun weapons, but their effectiveness was mixed. Given how resistant ponies, especially pegasi, should be to electricity I don’t see how a stunner can be just that and still work.”

“How about we try with a low level one?”

“I’m game. I can put a weak stun spell into a low crystal easy enough. If it works on me I’ll probably only be out for a couple minutes.”

“I don’t like you testing stuff like that on yourself, honey.”

“I know, dam, but you’re both pregnant and dad’s asleep, so…” he finishes with a shrug.

Sighing, Vines reluctantly nods in acceptance. Cure runs upstairs to his room, gets a low tier crystal and, as he’s coming back, replaces the enchantment in it with a weak stun spell. He passes it to his mom, stands back a few steps, and fires up his mark to see exactly what happens when the spell hits.

“Ready?” she asks, getting a nod back. “Okay, going,” she tells him, then fires the spell. As soon as it hits, Cure wobbles a little, then falls over on his side. He hits the ground and, in just a second, does a quick spasm before he rolls back to his hooves.

“Huh,” he mutters as he stands back up. Vines, he notes, is just about to run over and check him over, but he waves her off. “I’m fine, dam. That would probably hurt a fair amount for a normal pony,” he explains, then does a quick shudder.

“I think the electric bolt is just a delivery mechanism. What little got through my aura mostly discharged around the subdermal mesh thanks to the carbon fiber I have in it, but some got through and followed my nervous system to the ‘ol noggin and rendered me unconscious. At least, it did until my backup shocked me awake again.”

“Should we try a stronger spell?”

“Definitely. Solar said he hit those muggers hard enough to be out for an hour. If that’s considered normal I’d want to see if I can shrug that off, at least. Honestly, it probably doesn’t matter a whole lot if the spell discharges all at once… I would expect some kind of lingering effect to keep a target under, but… yeah, let’s try it. One sec,” he calls, running upstairs to grab the mid crystal he bought.

“I can’t believe I’m sitting here watching my son get shot with a stun spell,” Vines mumbles, shaking her head.

“I can’t believe he was fine two seconds later. Do you realize how significant that is?”

“I know, honey. It means we don’t have to worry about somepony ever trying to grab him.”

“Not just that. He’s basically immune to drugs, venoms, physical violence, and now magic means of subduing him. He’s like a guard’s worst nightmare even if you ignore his magic. If you factor that in he’s damn near unstoppable since you can’t stick a horn suppressor on him or anything.”

“You could,” Cure explains, coming down the stairs, “but I think those just prevent the nerves in the horn from firing off. I could just ignore it or, if I really wanted to freak somepony out, eject the horn and make a new one pop out underneath it. Shock and awe, mom,” he says with a smirk.

Passing her the mid tier crystal he explains, “You’ll have to charge this one. I don’t have the juice for a stunner that strong, sadly. If you charge all the shots it’ll sap you most of the way too. It’s as powerful as the spell will support. It’s a four hour stun for an adult, so I don’t know how many hours that would work on somepony my size, but I’m ready for this one either way.”

“Ready how?”

“I’ve added a thin, but dense, layer of wood to the underside and created a thin wooden grid dividing the subdermal mesh into sections, then isolated my nervous system on the outside of the layer. I can’t feel anything on my skin right now, but, in theory, nothing electrical should get through at all. I think.” Shrugging he adds, “I guess we’ll find out. Fire when ready.”

Title takes a moment to charge the crystal. He’s not joking; the mid tier crystals hold more than an earth pony normally does. Title can tell she wouldn’t have been able to completely fill it just four months ago. Rather than fill it all the way she just puts enough in for one shot, which, with the spell itself, is just barely too big to fit in a mid-low. If she charged the crystal all the way it should get four shots before it’s out.

Once ready she gives Cure a questioning look. At his nod she calls out, “Okay, firing,” and discharges the crystal. The bolt is noticeably brighter and seems to travel faster before striking him directly in the chest. His front legs fold, but only for a split second before he stands back up. “Huh, that’s kinda fun,” she comments, looking at the crystal in wonder.

“Oof… okay, there’s a splash effect to a degree. Some of it… well, numbed isn’t the right word. I felt it, but the muscles in my chest and legs kinda cut out for a second. That’s probably a secondary effect. The actual ‘stun’ part apparently needs a path to follow.” Shaking himself a little, he looks at his mom and agrees, “It is fun. I really need to take you to the range some time.”

Vines rolls her eyes at the two, then focuses on her son. “So… you can’t be stunned at all?”

“Not like this with that spell I can’t. Unless I’m hit in the eyes or,” he cringes, “an... uhh... orifice, I guess. There may be other stun spells out there I don’t know about, but I kind of doubt it. Once ponies find something that works they don’t seem to keep looking beyond that. If I knew I was going into a fight and I could prepare ahead of time I would be fine, but if somepony just up and blasted me with a Stun unexpectedly it would probably work for a few seconds.”

“I don’t like how you seem to always be preparing for a fight, honey,” Vines says. “It worries me that you think you’ll need this at some point.”

“Live long enough and it’s inevitable, dam. I just ran into three muggers not even two months ago, so even random crap like that can happen. What would you have done in that situation?”

“Give them what they want and ask that they leave me alone.”

“That usually works,” he agrees, “but sometimes ponies will want something you don’t wanna give ‘em. Or some ponies just wanna hurt other ponies, dam. I don’t think they would have gone too overboard, but I’m willin to bet those muggers wouldn’t have just taken our stuff, thanked us, and left,” he explains. That’s apparently something Vines hadn’t considered from the distressed expression she has.

“Listen… dam, If somepony is trying to hurt you then they’re not just hurting you, right? They’re hurting this whole family. It’s a lot easier to fight for somepony else than it is to fight for yourself sometimes, so if somepony ever threatens you and won’t back off, just imagine they’re threatening me or mom or dad instead. Or the twins,” he adds, motioning to her side. “In a way, they really are. It’ll hurt the whole family if something bad happens to you.

“Mom, same deal,” he starts, “if somepony ever threatens you, just pretend they’re threatening the refrigerator, or the garden or pantry,” he suggests, then laughs as he catches the crystal she throws at him.

“Evil brat. Go get out of here, I’m sick of ya,” she growls, motioning him away. Vines can’t help but giggle as he ignores his mom turning away and huffing in annoyance. He walks up to give both a nuzzle before running upstairs to put the crystals away, then darts out the door. “Your son’s a pest.”

“Aww, he’s just teasing you.”

“I know, but I’m actually a little hungry over here!” Title complains, throwing her hooves in the air. “Now I feel like he wins if I get a snack.”

“Go ahead and get one. I won’t tell.”

Title mulls it over for a moment, then just as she stands up she notices the front opening a crack. All they can see is a slit where Cure is peeking in, but Title doesn’t need to see anything else to know he’s grinning from ear to ear before the door shuts again.

“JUST FOR THAT I’M EATING ALL OF YOUR CARAMELS! I KNOW WHERE YOU HID THEM YOU LITTLE PUNK!” she shouts at the door. Vines cracks up at the peal of laughter both of them can hear trailing off and at the glare her wife is shooting at the door. “Pest!”

Cure takes off at a gallop towards the woods, laughing as he hears his mom shouting behind him. He should feel a little bad at teasing the poor mare, but he knows that she’s not really mad at him.

Most of the snow has sublimated away aside from in the parks where it’d been churned up by all of the bodies. The woods still had a layer, but much of it had turned into slush because of the rising temperature and occasional runners.

As Cure approaches the woods he slows his pace and turns on his pegasus aura, leaping up into the bare branches of a thick tree and sticking to the trunk.

Check it out, Kakashi-sensei, tree walking on the first try!

The experience of standing sideways on a tree is weird. Gravity is now pulling him backwards, which puts a different kind of stress on Cure’s leg muscles. It only takes a second of cutting back the pegasus aura before he comes to the conclusion that a human would have nowhere near the strength needed in two legs to pull the feat off, especially with their more vertical build.

Ankles, thighs, calves, and hip muscles are nowhere near strong enough to fight gravity’s pull in a purely backwards direction. Abs could get strong enough, but they’re designed to flex in that direction anyhow. The thought of a cartoon ninja stopping half way up a tree, then dangling backwards from their feet is kind of amusing.

Regardless, Cure’s cheating mass reduction means that instead of holding a seventy or so kilogram weight against the tree he’s dealing with only a small fraction of that; ten percent or less, he would venture. Given his strength he might as well be weightless. He makes a mental note to sneak away from Nurse Gentle at the clinic so he can hop on a scale and see if he can find the exact number in a few days.

At just shy of sixty percent conversion, in addition to all of his earth pony and pegasus mitochondria, Cure had converted all of the unicorn mitochondria in his muscle tissue and about a third of the ones everywhere else. Compared to a pegasus he has about a third more pegasus-aura producing cells, but based on what Sgt. Song had said at the gym he’s not seeing a thirty percent greater effect than he had weeks prior when he roughly matched a pegasus’ cell percentage.

His TK strength had increased slightly, which he expected, but he had also noticed a small increase in the range it extends from his body. Previously it only went about a half hoof off, or five centimeters roughly. He’d gained about another centimeter in range over the last three or four weeks, which is also less than he’d expect. He’d been hoping for an increase in the “sharpness” of the field, but if there was a change to that it wasn’t noticeable yet.

Cure can only assume that the relationship between cell counts and aura functions must have a logarithmic growth rate, unless there’s some yet-undiscovered point where some sort of “jump” happens.

He hasn’t noticed any significant change with the unicorn aura, but he never established a baseline with it beyond the horn-size vs aura range measure. His main focus when converting his earth pony cells was always on magic generation and/or capacity, something that has increased.

Unfortunately he has no way of separating out how much of that increase is from the act of using magic, from his physical growth, getting his mark, or just simply by aging.

Cure shakes off the idle thoughts and gets moving, climbing higher until he finds a thick enough branch to easily stand on, then surveys the area. Finding other trees that can hold his much-reduced weight isn’t much of an issue; instead, the challenge is mapping out a path that won’t end up with him being deflected away or having to bust through other branches mid-air. He does still weigh at least seven kilograms, though, so he has to keep that in mind when choosing branches.

Channeling his inner Tarzan, Cure elects to use those smaller branches as swing-points as he gets moving. In only a few minutes he’s gotten the pattern down and is quickly moving from tree to branch to tree while zig-zagging through the woods. It’s the most pure fun he’s had simply playing and running and moving as far back as either set of memories goes. His only regret is not being able to launch webbing to swing from tree to tree.

After about ten minutes, he pauses to ensure nopony is anywhere around him. Deep in the woods at this point, he’s certain he’s alone. A quick look at the sky shows some pegasi out and about, playing around in the clouds, but none of them are paying any attention to the ground below them and, even if they were, he’s likely almost impossible to spot aside from the shoot of green mane he’s sporting.

Altering his colors to a winter camouflage, he steadily moves further away and deploys his horn, scanning the area with his unicorn aura and finding several critters moving around that are nearly impossible to spot with his eyes. Heat sense works well on some, but for any that have an insulating layer of fat most of their body is undetectable. Their outside layer is about the same temperature as their surroundings, but things like noses, eyes, their breath, and less appealing orifices make them stand out more.

Cure eliminates his scent, making himself smell like the trees he’s jumping between as he moves around. He begins experimenting with Title’s idea of an internal horn. The stomach ends up being a good location since it is already a mostly-gas filled chamber. The horn he creates does need a little extra tweaking before he gets it working properly. The vibration of the muscles caused unpleasant side-effects initially, so Cure had to surround the horn muscles in shock absorbing soft tissue to mitigate the shaking. He also had to coat the surfaces in a thin layer of mucus to protect them from the acid or he would be continuously healing them.

The horn itself is just over a centimeter tall. He was able to shrink the entire design and still cast spells, though he did have to retrain the attached ganglion to properly hit runes on the diminutive horn. He programmed it to cast a variety of physical, thermal, energy, or general purpose shields as well as some other spells he thought useful like slow fall, mage armor, blur, blink, cloud walking, and water breathing.

His subdermal armor and modified bones are tough enough that physical armor and shield spells are somewhat worthless. The shields will prevent easy targeting by unicorns, though, and the energy shield or armors would mitigate beam attacks or non-damaging things like Stun.

Despite his gains, Blink, a short range teleport, would wear him out beyond a few meters. Still, it could be useful in a pinch, and blur, though tiring, could help if he has to run from something. Water Breathing is barely castable, but only at the lowest power setting, which should still give him an hour or more; plenty of time to allow him to form gills if necessary.

He’s able to scan several new specimens on his hunt including numerous owls, birds, a pack of wolves, rabbits, a single jackalope, weasels, opossums, skunks, groundhogs, rodents, some weird porcupine things, raccoons, beavers, and some foxes, not to mention a massive number of plants and bugs that are dormant for the winter.

He’d been running in the woods plenty of times, but he never thought about going by himself, and certainly never with his horn attached, so this was the first opportunity to really catalog the surrounding area.

A couple of odd animals do stand out. The first is the jackalope, and he had to actually pause and double check what he saw when he scanned the thing. Flashbacks to horrible America’s Funniest Home Video shows made it difficult not to kill the thing on the spot, but it was kind of adorable so he gave it as pass... this time.

The weird porcupines where what really drew his attention. Unlike the kind he’s familiar with, these have a series of bladders on their backs that suck in air, then compress it in chambers stored under their quills which they apparently can launch en masse. From the looks of it the force isn’t very high and the system appears designed more for scaring off a predator than inflicting damage. The barbed quills would hurt like hell to remove, but aside from a lucky hit in an eye any would-be target should be in a lot of pain, but not badly injured.

Replicating the bladder and chambers on his foreleg, Cure is able to create a functional, if horribly inaccurate and rather weak, blow gun. By recessing the chamber, increasing the dart size, and creating a short, rifled barrel, he’s able to significantly improve that, though, and within about twenty minutes, has massively improved the projectile and refined the barrel.

He looks it over and is still pretty disappointed at the whole setup. It’s nowhere near as effective as a simple BB gun, and he knows he can do a whole lot better. Thinking it over for a moment, he opts to flip the whole setup around, so instead of drawing in air at the back and shooting out the front, the barrel is lengthened and air is compressed further up his leg, which should result in a far superior system.

The first step is to improve the compressed air chamber. The porcupines use soft tissue for everything, but Cure goes to work building a chamber composed of his improved fibrocartilage and reinforced throughout with molecularly bonded spider silk and improved bone, creating a composite similar to rebar-reinforced concrete.

He puts a one-way valve on one end for the pump and a powerful sphincter at the other for the barrel, then moves it up his leg to just above and behind the knee, though the intake and output points wrap along the side to attach to the pump and barrels respectively.

The barrel of the gun runs back down the front of the cannon bone, a name he finds amusing under the circumstances, and attaches to the compressed air chamber at the rear. There is not a separate “chamber” like a gun has to hold a bullet at the back of the barrel, as he’s able to load the gun by transmuting bone directly through the surface of the barrel and in front of the sphincter as needed.

In order to withstand the pressures he uses the same material as the compressed air chamber for the barrel. Rifling runs the length or it, which given his foreleg’s length, isn’t any longer than several pistols that Edward owned. Due to the bone weighing very little compared to metal the rifling twist needed was pretty light, though he ended up having to add a finned back half to the round for the rifling to be effective. The fins are miniscule, though; just large enough for the rifling to have something to grab onto since the bone that the rounds are made of can’t deform like metal can. A twisted valve between the sphincter and the bullet seems to help slightly too.

The air pump’s intake is just above and behind the fetlock. A bladder sucks air in, then a muscle pushes a piston up the length of his cannon, pushing and compressing the air through the one-way valve at the top and into the compressed air chamber. A modified version of the bug heart design works well for this, and is able to “pump” the air several times per second, quickly filling the compression chamber and pressurizing the system.

Wary of a blowout happening inside his leg, Cure places the thinnest, weakest part of the structure directly against a thin flap of skin set up like a trap door on the back of his knee, ensuring through a few tests that should the air pressure exceed whatever the max is then that will be the failure point.

Just to be safe, he swears to himself that he will only pressurize the system immediately before use, as a blowout there could really mess up the soft tissue around his knee and temporarily cripple him. He adds the “gun” to only his right leg just to be safe, knowing that within a minute or so of work he could duplicate it in his left foreleg if necessary.

He also considers the possibility that he could affix the entire system to the outside of his leg and have it housed externally if needed. He could also just extrude the entire unit as a stand alone biological gun, but introducing powerful projectile weapons to the world is basically at the very top of his “do not ever do” list.

It also doesn’t escape Cure that should projectiles made of bone ever appear anywhere he’ll likely be on whatever list of suspects eventually pops up. Upon realizing this he decides to pay special attention to where every bullet lands so he can track it down and completely destroy it. Changing their color to a bright yellow helps immensely.

Between the unicorn aura, heat sensors, and his visual acuity, Cure’s accuracy with the airgun is spot on at close range. Beyond the aura’s dozen or so meters his eyesight alone is good enough to usually hit a target reliably, but beyond twenty meters he would likely need to add an eye to the leg, and it just isn’t important enough to play with right now. Any would-be encounter warranting the setup would probably be happening at close range, he figures.

Still, the system packs a hell of a wallop and, judging from the time it takes between firing and hitting a target, he figures the muzzle velocity has to be between two and three hundred meters per second; far faster than the typical casted spell.

With the wide variety of venoms available to him and the ability to fire lower-speed, but faster cycling rounds he can’t think of any reason he would need to improve the design for now. Designing a bullet with a coated dart tip isn’t difficult, even if accuracy at range falls off quickly. Done playing with the porcupine gun, he reverts his leg to normal, finds and eats all of the rounds he fired, and continues on his way.

A moment later it dawns on him that the whole episode was a complete waste of time; the airgun may, possibly, be useful if he had some reason why he would have to shoot something at long range, but he can’t fathom a set of circumstances that would necessitate that, ever. He’s certainly never going to share the design with anycreature else ever.

For short range his aura and magic are far more effective for self defense, and if he needed something for the five to ten meter range he could just do the same thing he did with the muggers. He’d mentioned being able to shoot quills at the time, and there’s no reason he couldn’t just sneeze a whole mouthful of venom-tipped ones like a shotgun and blast half of a room at once.

He’d been in the woods now for a couple hours and is starting to feel a little hungry from burning so much energy, so he turns off his sense of taste and eats a few branches and whatever leaves he can find before he begins making his way back home.

About a kilometer away from his home he spots, smells, and hears some familiar ponies. He pauses most of the way up the tree he’s on and hugs himself to the trunk, altering his colors to match the bark perfectly.

“Why the hay are we out here?” Silent Bolt asks. “Who cares what was running around in the woods? Nopony is going to be out in this shit weather.” Cure leans around a tree and spots the yellow unicorn.

“Quit your whining, private.” Cure recognizes Static Arc’s voice right away. The denim pegasus is on the ground, walking behind Rushing Charge. “We don’t need a foal to come out here and get hurt by some wolf or coyote that’s wandered too close to town.”

The three are staying on the path at a leisurely canter. Rush is taking point, of course, with Static behind and to her right and Bolt trailing slightly further back on the big, orange earth pony’s left. All three are armored up and Bolt has a winter cloak thrown over his back. It doesn’t look like the cold bothers Rush much and he knows Static can barely feel it.

“Yes sir,” Bolt acknowledges. “I’m just not sure who I pissed off to be the one ta hafta do it. Besides, they said it was in the trees. I ain’t seen no coyote hoppin through the treetops.”

With a mischievous smile, Cure retracts his horn, alters his voice to a deep feminine one, and adds a hissing lisp to it. “WHO DARESSS ENTER MY WOODSSS?” he shouts, facing away to obscure his location. All three freeze on the spot and begin looking around. “Mmmm… Tender morsssellsss to devour! You sssmell so tasssty!”

“I am Corporal Static Arc of Her Majesty’s Royal Guard. Reveal yourself and state your identity this instant!”

“Mmm, reveal myssself?” he asks, adding a very unsettling titter afterwards. “No, I think not. You ssshould know to whom these woodsss belong, little poniesss. I am the Ssspider Queen, Ssshelob! Who amongssst you ssshall be the offering?!”

“Spider queen? Wait, did she say offering?” Bolt quietly asks. “I ain’t no damn offerin, sir.”

“Shut up, private!” Static growls, “Nopony is an offering!”

Cure doesn’t wait for their response. “Ahh, a horn-ed one hasss volunteered! The othersss may leave, then. Sssuch a ssshame… the large, muscular onesss are alwaysss ssso deliciousss!” he finishes with a loud, lip smacking sound.

He can barely hold back the laugh at Bolt’s wide-eyed panicked look and Rush’s hard swallow and half-step back. She glances over her withers at Static and gives him a questioning look. The corporal is clearly not sure what to do, so he looks at the other two and shrugs. “Bolt, you got a location on this thing?” he quietly asks.

“I don’t see shit, sir,” Bolt answers, quickly shaking his head.

Cure pulls a small piece of bark off the tree and throws it on the other side of the trio. It didn’t weigh much, but it still makes enough noise when it lands that they all look over their withers. He takes the opportunity to climb down the opposite side of the trunk from the three and disappear into the brush.

“I sssaid the other two may go. If you wisssh to join your friend, though… mmmmm… sssuch a feassst…”

Slowly making his way closer to the three, Cure takes the opportunity to grab a heavier rock and throws it in a high arc, aiming for a patch of trees and brush in front of and to the left of Rush. It lands in a heavy thump, snapping several branches as it does.

All three rotate to face the noise. Rush pulls a spear out of a holster on her left and extends it to full length, twisting to lock it in place, then squats down her hind legs and prepares to rear back or lunge at the attacker. Static spreads his wings and pulls a pair of blades from the sides of his armor, sliding a hoof into a ring attached to them. He uses his wings to stay balanced on his back hooves, ready for a fight. Bolt lights up his horn and turns with the other two.

With all three facing away from Cure, he slowly makes his way closer as Static yells out. “We don’t have to fight, Queen Shelob. Show yourself and, if you are hungry, we can provide food. Attacking us will bring retaliation from the Guard. We’ll tear these woods apart hunting you down!”

The whole time he’s talking, Cure has been moving. Keeping low to the ground and out of line of sight of Bolt’s horn, he finally has stalked to within striking distance. Changing his colors back to normal and turning off his mass reduction aura, which was fantastic for keeping his hooffalls quiet, he reverts to his normal voice and sneaks up on Bolt.

With a quick, lightened hop he lands directly on the private’s withers and wraps his forelegs around his neck while yelling “BOO!”

Bolt screams like a little girl and takes off running, yelling “GET IT OFF! GET IT OFF!” and going in circles, bucking like a rodeo horse. Cure latches on like a barnacle screaming “YEEHAW!” and laughing his head off while riding the unicorn’s back.

Rush and Static both jump and yell initially, but upon seeing the blue colt wrapped around their partner’s neck they both relax.

“Cure?!” Rush shouts in surprise.

“Cure, stars damn you…” Static starts, reholstering his blades. “Bolt, it’s fucking Cure Wave. Settle down!”

Cure’s been laughing the whole time, riding Bolt like a cowboy. “What?!” the unicorn finally asks then turns to see the cackling colt on his withers. “You little shit!”

“Nom nom!” Cure yells, pretending to bite Bolt’s neck, “Ssshelob is pleasssed with your offering!”

“Get offa me ya little flankhole! I almost had a heart attack back there!”

Cure hops down and waves away the complaint, “Meh, I woulda kept ya alive. What kinda guard gets snuck up on by an eight year old though?” he asks, tisking the unicorn.

“How did you do that, Cure?” Rush asks.

“I was runnin around the woods fartin around and heard you three talking. I bet somepony spotted me and made a report about something out there, right?” At their nods he continues, “Yep. So I’ve been out here for a minute and was kinda hungry, so I decided to head home. Guess who I heard complaining about being out here?” he asks, smirking at Bolt.

“Shit, colt, you’re lucky I ain’t arrestin ya,” the unicorn threatens.

“For what? Running around the woods?” he asks with a shit eating grin.

“Uhh… assaulting a guard!” he shouts, pointing an accusing hoof.

“I dunno, private,” Cure says, looking him over. “You don’t look all that assaulted to me.”

“... shut up.”

“So, that was you?” Static asks, ignoring the banter.

“Yep.”

“The report said that something was up in the trees.”

“Like this?” Cure asks, then runs up a nearby tree, stopping at the first branch thick enough to hold his weight, and looking down at the group.

“Huh. How the hay did you do that, son?”

“Uhh… the grabby aura that earth ponies have,” he explains as he hops down. The jump from several meters up momentarily panics the three until Cure lands and is, obviously, no worse for wear. All three of them let out a relieved sigh at the same time.

“Bolt can’t do it, but I bet Rush could. I’m not sure, though, Rush… you’ve got a lotta muscle mass on ya compared to me, so these trees may not be able to hold you up. Long story short,” he says, turning back to Static, “earth pony grabbing fields are three or more times as strong as pegasi. You could do it if you used your aura to lighten yourself, but we can do it with raw strength. See?” he says, hopping and putting all four hooves on a tree and sticking himself there.

“You gotta grab the wood under the bark though. You’ll just rip the bark off otherwise. The more muscle and less fat an earth pony has the easier it is, too. Rush could probably walk right up a wall as long as it’s made of stone or brick or something,” he explains, hopping back down again. “That’s why Bolt couldn’t dislodge me.”

“Huh… did you know that, Rush?” the pegasus asks, turning to look at her.

“I did not. I’ll have to try that at the station. Sounds fun,” she adds with an excited smile.

“Yeah, good luck, private. Just have somepony come fetch me if ya fall, okay? Maybe put down some pads while you’re tryin to figure it out. Now, do y’all need me to come to the station later or something? I’m friggin starving, so I wanna go home and eat if we’re all good.”

“Nah, get outta here, son. Just try not to freak everypony out from now on, okay?”

“Sure, but there is actually a pack of wolves a few kilometers out that way,” he says, pointing to where he found them. “There were about fifteen of ‘em. Have fun!” he calls, taking off for the house.

Once he’s out of earshot the three share a look.

“I think I peed a little when he landed on me.”

“I think I did too,” Static admits. “Mainly because of the way you screamed, you idiot. Next time something lands on your back maybe run to your support instead of away?”

“I thought I had a massive spider on me!”

Static sighs and shakes his head. “Let’s head back and let the sarge know it was his future son in law,” he orders as he starts walking back to town.

“I’m not sure he’ll appreciate you calling Cure that, sir,” Rush says, following the corporal.

Scoffing, he asks, “Why not? If my girls were closer to his age I’d be fuckin thrilled to have him marry one.”

“Who the hay is Queen Shelob anyhow?” Bolt asks. “Is that from some adventure book or somethin?”

The other two shrug and, at the same time answer.
“No clue.”
“Never heard of it.”

“Huh. Well, we need to let the sarge know about the wolves too,” Bolt reminds them. “I wonder why they didn’t chase after him.”

“He was in the trees?” Rush suggests.

“Probably,” Static agrees. “Or they never knew he was there. I wasn’t catching a scent from him; were you?”

Rush shakes her head no, “Nope, didn’t smell a thing. I didn’t hear him sneak up on us either.”

Bolt gives the two a disbelieving look, “So you think the super strong biomanipulating eight year old colt either outran or snuck up on a pack of wolves while alone in the woods and, instead of callin for help, played a prank on the guard squad he happened across? Am I the only one that’s a little concerned about that?”

“Yes, Bolt, you are,” Static insists. “He’s also the same colt that’s making more bits than any of us, volunteering at the clinic, and spending two to three hours per week helpin us get in shape. How are those eyes and teeth working out?”

“Okay, good point. Let’s get outta here. The colt got my damn cloak all wet jumpin on me. I’m freezin my tail off over here.”

Cure is able to use TK to push off most of the gross stuff, but is still wet when he gets home. That’s not really an issue with spells like the cleaning cantrip or prestidigitation, but he still is annoyed at tracking water in the house. Stepping inside, he makes sure nopony but the parents are home, then pops out his horn and uses a few cantrips and his TK aura to dry himself off, warm up his coat, and clean up the mess he made.

He finds his parents just about finishing lunch and, after a quick pit stop, hops in his chair to join them. He loads up his plate with a salad and fills a bowl with some delicious, if vegetarian, potato soup and starts to enjoy his meal, complimenting his dam’s cooking while stuffing his face.

“How was the run, champ? Seems like ya were gone a while.”

“Good. How are you feeling? Need me to hit ya with a heal blast, pa? I could smell the beer and booze on ya when I came downstairs earlier.”

“Eh, I wouldn’t say no. Maybe it’ll help with the headache.”

Cure doesn’t even slow down eating, and instead channels the ability through his horn while telling his parents about his run, minus any weapons prototyping. When he mentions the raccoon and opossum he scanned he becomes much more excited. “Racoons have long, flexible fingers and opossums have something I didn’t think I’d run into until I found a chimp or a monkey. Check this out,” he says, holding up his left hoof.

Due to the flexibility of the TK aura, the idea of giving himself hands simply never came up until he scanned the opossum and realized that they, unlike anything else he had scanned so far, have opposable thumbs. Using a combination of the scans from some of the cats he’d met at the zoo, the racoons, and the opossums, he is able to recreate a reasonable facsimile of a human wrist, hand, and fingers.

The keratin that makes the wall of the hoof is shifted up his foreleg like a bracer and the back of the hand is furred with short hair. The fingers have knuckles and two joints just like a human with a single-jointed, slightly thicker thumb. Cure didn’t add fingernails or claws, but did add slightly tougher skin on the tips and in the palm of the hand.

“Huh… that looks kinda like the minotaur we ran into,” his mom observes. “The fingers are thinner and look more flexible though.

“Yup, also they only have three fingers and a thumb. My hand is twenty five percent better,” he explains, then pauses. “HA! Twenty percent cooler! Oh man, I’ll hafta remember that one,” he muses. At his parents’ confused look he quickly explains, “In the show about this world one of the main characters says something needs to be twenty percent cooler. I don’t remember if it was like a recurring catch phrase, but I remember the fans kinda latched onto it.”

“Riiight,” Title patronizingly agrees with a nod, “well either way, I can certainly see how those would be useful if you don’t have our TK field.”

“Yup, in fact if something is really useful humans say it’s handy. A huge amount of nonverbal communication happens with hands too, of course. Almost every saying I’ve heard where we say hoof, they say hand instead. Offhand remark, lend you a hand, hands down, hand me that spoon, so forth and so on,” he says, rolling his wrist.

“Man I tell ya what, you think getting a massage with a hoof is nice, you’re not gonna know what hit you with these puppies. Something a lot of the user-written stories that inserted human characters into Equestria had them do is give massages. Or just pet ponies. There were a few silly slice-of-life stories specifically about that even. Here, lean over here, ma, I’ll give ya an ear scritch as a preview.”

Title looks at the other two parents who both shrug back, then leans closer so Cure can lean his barrel on the table and reach her ears with both hands. As soon as he can reach he gently, but firmly, massages her ears between a couple fingers and his thumbs while moving slowly from the base to the top, then back down, then gently grinds into the muscles at the base.

“Oh my sun and stars,” she slowly slurs out, leaning far enough over to rest her head on the table while closing her eyes and moaning in bliss. Cure stops just a moment later, getting a plaintive whine and beseeching eyes from the pink mare.

“Nope, if you’re gonna drool at the table it’s going to be from dam’s delicious cookin, not a massage. You can have one tonight if you’re good,” he says, ignoring her pleading look.

“Huh, that looks pretty amazing, son. Your massages were already fantastic if ya ask me.”

“That looked very relaxing, sweetie. Are you able to still do all the heat things with those instead of hooves?”

“Sure can. I can still do anything hooves can do. Hands aren’t as tough, though, so I would need to either change these back or go with something like paws for running on. Wrists are the main issue there. When it comes to joints you either have strength and stability or you trade that for flexibility to some degree. Magic lets us all cheat there a lot, though.”

“Cheat how?” she asks.

“Remember I talked about how there’s ponies and horses on earth?”

“Mhmm.”

“Their shoulders aren’t nearly as flexible as ours. Like this?” he says, reaching back and putting a, now, hand on his withers, “They are incapable of doing that because their shoulder joints aren’t the same ball-and-socket joints we have. I don’t know how far sideways they can reach, but I’m guessing like forty-five degrees is about it whereas we can go all the way out just like humans can.”

“Okay, but how is that cheating?”

“Without magic to kinda reinforce our bones, muscles, and ligaments we wouldn’t be able to run like we can with the joints and the flexibility we have, dam. We would dislocate our shoulders with that much weight pounding on them at any kind of speed just from the force of the impact on the ground.

“Like I said, you either get flexibility,” he says, moving his right foreleg in a big circle, “or you get strength. We get both thanks to magic. Or we’re just made of tougher stuff, but I don’t think that’s the case because we’re carbon-based lifeforms just like life on earth is.”

Cure pauses in thought for a second, a look the parents have all become accustomed to. “Ya know what, now that I think about it, we’re way lighter than we should be too. I wonder if that five percent of our cells that have pegasus mitochondria in them are responsible.

“I bet it is because I have more hybrid cells than a pegasus has. The weight reduction doesn’t seem to be linear, so that five percent is probably always on and is reducing our weight by a fair amount. Dad, we need to do a quick experiment. Hold on, lemme finish eating first, I got so hungry I snacked on a friggin tree while I was out there.”

“Fatplot,” Title smugly calls out.

“No massage!” Cure threatens, getting a wide-eyed panicked look from his mom. “Jeez, I’m teasin, mom. You want it now or should I wait until tonight?”

“Now please!”

“Alright, once we’re done with my little test,” he agrees, shoveling his food in his mouth. He picks up his bowl with his new hands, smiling at how useful they are, and chugs his soup, then tosses the bowl towards the sink momentarily panicking his dam before he catches it with his horn. Quickly floating all the other settings over, he hits the lot of them with a quick cleaning cantrip and waves his sire over to the living room.

Walking on hands is weird and uncomfortable, something the parents notice him struggling with. The earth pony strength and TK field help and Cure ends up walking more in his fingertips than the palms of the hands. It twigs memories of Edward playing with the various pets over the years, especially when he would get down on all fours and get his dogs riled up.

The moms follow along as well and snuggle together on Title’s cushion to watch.

“Alright, champ, whatcha need me to do?”

“Go ahead and hold a leg out, I’m going to hang from it like we did that one night. See if you can tell if I get heavier, okay?”

“Sure thing,” Deed quickly agrees, then sits on his haunches and holds a foreleg out. Cure grabs on and lifts himself up, not using any aura at all. Instead of imagining himself on the moon, he thinks of Jupiter and how the gravity was supposedly several times stronger.

The visual just doesn’t click like it does when he thinks of the moon, unfortunately, so he quickly scours his memory for something he can latch onto. Silly as it is, the first thing that comes to mind are the awful filler episodes of Dragonball Z where the main character was on a spaceship with far more gravity than the earth had.

He remembers Josh sitting on the couch watching that horrible show and shaking his head at how stupid it was. There was so much filler crap that Josh took to recording the show on their VCR so he could fast forward through the minutiae. Regardless, one thing that he recalls is Goku being smashed down into the ground, struggling to move, despite the fact his hair still stuck out perfectly the same as it did any other time.

That visual seems to do the trick as Cure finds himself on his rear on the ground with his sire stumbling forward trying not to land on top of him. Regaining his balance he looks at his son and asks, “What the hay happened, son? I thought you’d get a little heavier, not whatever that was.”

“Uhh… I blinked, I think. What did happen?” Cure asks, looking from his sire to his moms.

“I don’t know, sweetie. One moment you were hanging from your sire’s leg, the next you’re on the floor and he’s barely able to avoid falling on you.”

“You dropped like a stone, Cure. I’m assuming he got a whole lot heavier all of the sudden?” Title asks Deed.

“Yup. If I was ready for it I woulda been alright, but the colt musta nearly doubled in weight. You alright, champ?”

“Yeah, just surprised. Holy fudge do you realize what this means?!”

Title smirks at the colt. “You need to go on a diet?”

“Mmmnope. It means that pegasi can increase their mass too. That’s such crap! That’s so freaking overpowered!”

“I don’t get it, babe,” Title says, “how is that overpowered?”

“I mean… I guess it would depend on how long the aura can affect something after they let go, but imagine a pegasus grabs a bunch of metal darts or something with a bit of weight to ‘em. They get up in the air a bit, flip the switch, let those darts fly, then take off.”

“Sweet Celestia, Cure, why is it every time you have an example it’s violent?”

“This one’s not entirely my fault, mom. There was a game in my memories where almost that exact thing was done with a different kind of weapon. The game was actually called ‘Mass Effect’ because the central premise was that humans found some near-magical material that let them mess with the mass of objects. It was the first thing I thought of when I realized pegasi could lighten themselves, actually.”

“Okay, I can accept that one, I guess.”

“I’m sure there’s nonviolent ways to take advantage of the effect but just off the top of my head I’m kinda coming up empty. A smith or carpenter could use the effect to mold metal or drive nails by upping the mass of a hammer mid-swing, I suppose. It may break the hammer though. A two pegasus team could use their auras as a counterweight system to lift heavy objects with a simple pulley.”

“Good job, son,” Deed shouts, giving him a congratulatory slap on the back, nearly knocking him over. “I knew it ya tried real hard you could come up with something other that doesn’t result in carnage.”

“Dad you’ll have to be mindful of that ability now that you know it’s possible. That slap, for example, with double the mass would hit twice as hard. If you ever need to be even more difficult to move you could do-” Cure is interrupted by a knock at the door, “that. Huh… it’s Drift and Glacial.”

“You still have hands, sweetie.”

“Bah! What’s a few weird appendages between hopefully-still-friends?” he asks, trot-crawling towards the door.

“Horn!” Title hisses out.

“Oh that woulda been different. Good save, ma.” Quickly retracting the horn, he makes his way to the door, sits on his haunches, and pulls it open. “Jeez these things are useful. I wonder if I could make a prosthetic removable arm or something. Hey Glacial, Drift. Happy New Year.” The girls aren’t in their flight suits this time, he notes. “Why aren’t ya wearin yer suits?”

“Happy New Year,” Glacial responds. Drift is staring at his hands wide-eyed. “Cure… what the hay?!” Glacial asks, pointing a wing at a hand and taking a half step back.

“They’re hands, ya know? Like a minotaur. Well, technically these are more like an opossum I found in the woods earlier, sort of. Wanna come in?” The two hesitantly walk in, warily glancing at his hands as they walk by. “We just had lunch when I showed my parents… are either of you hungry?”

Drift shakes her head no while Glacial explains. “No thanks. My dam is cleaning our suits today.”

“How about we head up to my room? I figure you’re probably here so we can talk and we don’t need a buncha geezers listening in and taking notes on the hip lingo foals are using these days,” he says, then blows a raspberry at his parents. Both moms just glare while Deed waves a hoof menacingly. “I have a few spare cleaning crystals I can loan ya that’ll take care of the suits no problem.”

As he leads the girls up the stairs he almost stumbles when hears his mom yell, “Leave the door cracked!” He shoots a glare back over his withers but she’s not in front of the stairs. Still, it's the thought that counts and he at least got to see both girls’ ears pinking at the implication.

“Ignore her,” he shouts, continuing to his room, “she’s probably hangry because it’s been over fifteen minutes since she ate.”

“Hangry?” Drift says, puzzling the word out.

“Yeah, ya know, angry or grumpy because she’s hungry. Hangry,” Cure explains, still talking loud enough he’s easily heard from the living room. “She gets meaner the hungrier she gets. I got her a nice bag for Hearth’s Warming so she’s always able to carry snacks with her to cut back on how many times we have to bail her outta lockup for biting somepony or make an emergency stop at a restaurant when we’re out.”

He hears Title mumble from downstairs, “Huh, I hadn’t thought about putting snacks in that bag. That’s not a bad idea.”

The three go into his room and he loudly shuts the door behind them, then hops up to lay near the head of the bed and motions in front of himself for them to join him. Drift hops up first, Glacial joining her a second later and leaning on her left side. Once they’re situated he muses aloud, “I think this is the first time I’ve ever had a filly in my room.” After a moment of thinking he nods, “Yep. Dawn’s never even been up here, I don’t think.”

Looking at the pair he notices that Drift is looking over Glacial’s withers at his trees and the Spell Scanner sheet, along with his supply of enchanting and scroll making supplies. “That’s all stuff I use with Dawn and Solar to make scrolls and whatnot. The plants are all special projects, kinda like your flowers, just a lot more complex.”

Without looking away, Drift asks, “What do they do?”

“The trees will eventually produce fruit to combat viruses and other illness causing things. One produces vaccines, the other is more like medicine. The sheet is something I use to take notes I want to remember, or for memorizing spells.” Cure hops down and turns the sheet to face them, then makes it display the same Light spell diagram he’d shared with the unicorn siblings.

“That’s neat,” Glacial comments, seemingly lost for words while reviewing the spell diagram.

“Yep. Saves a lot of ink and this way I never forget.”

“Never forget?” she half asks.

“Biomanipulation is an insanely complex school of magic,” he explains. “Without the ability to instantly recall biology perfectly, my talent could be dangerous to use. With perfect memorization I, essentially, can’t make a mistake because I know exactly what I’m going to end up with before I even start.”

“You mean that you can remember anything you use your talent on?” Drift asks with a hint of worry in her tone.

“Yes. Perfectly. Every single bowel, colon, infected pustule, and ballsack, including both our sires’ gets to grace my memory for all eternity. Aren’t I lucky?” he sarcastically quips. “Why? Are you worried I’m using it for something perverted?” he teasingly asks, then waves the idea away. “I’m not even at the age where that does anything for me. I’m still a little young for that. I’m a year and a half younger than you, don’t forget.

“Besides, I would not violate somepony’s trust like that. I’ve scanned well over three hundred mares and fillies at this point, Drift. Unless I’m actually working on a patient or need an example of a healthy scan to compare somepony to, I don’t look at ponies’ scans. I definitely don’t peek for the funsies, I promise. We’re all a lot cuter and prettier on the outside than we are on the inside, I assure you.”

As he walks over and climbs back on the bed both girls’ eyes follow his hands with curiosity. He holds one up and flexes the fingers, showing off their dexterity by touching each finger to the thumb quickly, then snapping his fingers a couple times, getting raised brows from the pair that have likely never seen that done in their lives. “Have either of you seen a minotaur before?”

“Only in passing,” Glacial explains. “I’ve seen them from the air on boats and stuff over in Baltimare on occasion, but never up close.”

“Same here,” Drift admits, “I’ve never been closer than a few hundred meters to one.”

“Ah. Well we have our TK field, but for creatures that don’t, like griffons, dragons, and minotaurs, the ability to grab things is largely reliant on having an opposable thumb like this little guy,” he waves it in demonstration. "I wouldn't expect minotaurs to be sailors, though... it seems to me they have enough muscle to sink, not float. Then again, so do we," he adds with a shrug.

Getting back on topic, he continues, “Griffons and dragons have claws and minotaurs have what’s called fingernails. I’ve only met one, but he seemed to keep his trimmed. Regardless, fingers are awesome for manipulating small things or doing detailed work and, surprisingly, they’re quite strong. I was just about to give my mom a massage to demonstrate how much better they are than hooves.

“Wanna be my first victim, Glacial? I never did give you one after the Running of the Leaves, after all.”

Glacial seems a little unsure at the suggestion and, for whatever reason, somewhat wary of the appendages. Cure assumes that’s because they’re out of place on the end of a pony’s legs and he can admit the look is bizarre. Still, they’re not completely dissimilar to what a hippogryph should look like, though his fingers lack the claws or fingernails they would have. Of course there’s a good chance she’s just leery because they haven’t had their discussion yet.

“Ya know what? Let’s table that for a moment. You two didn’t come by for massages, I’m guessing, so let’s talk first. Before we get started, I do owe you both an apology. Drift, I let that ‘We came here last’ remark eat at me more than I should have. WhatI said isn’t wrong, but there was no reason I couldn’t have waited until any day but freaking Hearth’s Warming Eve to have that discussion.

“You came over to invite me out to play with friends and I let that quip piss me off way more than I should have. I kinda ruined the day over something that could have easily waited. I can’t say that I’m sorry for what I said; I am worried you’re going to get hurt when you smart off to the wrong pony, or other creature, at some point, but I am sorry that I went off on you like that, okay?”

“I’m sorry too!” she shouts. “That’s just how me and Wind act towards each other. Dam’s been getting on our cases a lot more since daddy got in trouble, though, and Wind’s coltfriend almost dumped her for the same thing pretty soon after they started dating. Most of the time I don’t even think about what I’m saying before I blurt something out, I promise! I’m not trying to be mean, I just… I dunno, that’s just how we act at home,” she softly finishes.

By the time she’s done she’s tearing up a little. Glacial leans over and nuzzles her left cheek, which seems to brighten the filly up a little.

“I get it. I’m a smartflank too. It’s just… I dunno,” Cure pauses, scrunching his snout in thought at how to word his annoyance. “It really bugged me when I showed up at your door with a big plant on my back and three boxes on my head, all gift wrapped, and you got so nasty just right away for no reason.

“Certainly you realize how few earth ponies would be willing to go into the clouds for anything. Stars, there was a group of pegasi taking bets on how long I would take to hop outta the cab. A cab that I had to hire just to try to surprise you; never mind the Cloud Walk crystal.” Cure pauses to regain his composure and waves the frustration away. “Like I said, I let that get to me more than I should. When you said something again while we were having cocoa together I think that just set me off.”

Sighing, Cure uses a hand to rub at his forehead. The damn things are handy and beat the TK field, even if they’re not as flexible. It’s the tactile response, he figures, that the TK field lacks. The field does have a sense of touch to it, but it’s like touching things while wearing thick gloves. The sense of touch is there, but it lacks almost all feeling.

She’s about to open her mouth to respond but he cuts her off, shaking his head and apologizing. “Sorry, again. I’m really not angry with you,” he explains, “it just made me feel like I was letting myself be used and I lashed out at both of you. I don’t like the idea of ponies taking advantage of me, even though I know that’s not what you were doing, okay?”

“I get it. I really do,” she insists with a nod. “I don’t want you to feel that way, Cure. I’ve never had anypony just… give me things before, and I guess I just started treating you how I do my sister.”

“I think she just doesn’t know what to do when a colt pays attention to her,” Glacial teases with a smirk. Drift’s ears pin back and her cheeks darken at the statement as she turns away.

Cure’s not sure what to say to that; it’s the first time he’s considered the possibility that his actions towards the girl could be construed as his way of coming on to her. She is an attractive girl and her colors, in particular, are unique and pretty. He just hadn’t considered her as “dating” material; mainly because of the way she acts.

Not wanting to hurt the girl’s feelings and conscious of the fact that, though she’s a little young to worry about such things, mares do typically need to actively hunt out stallions, Cure carefully considers how to respond. “I’ll be perfectly clear and honest, then, Drift. Everything I’ve done to this point has been exclusively me trying to be a friend.

“I hadn’t considered the possibility you thought I was pursuing you… I guess, romantically? Mainly because all of our interactions have been pretty confrontational. I mean, you’re pretty, there’s no argument there, but like I said the other day, you always seem ready to fight. Do you see me as somepony you would be interested in in a few years?”

Carefully avoiding looking in Cure’s direction, Drift darkens another shade or two before answering. “I dunno. Maybe. I think you could be a good stallion when you’re older.”

“Huh. Okay. Well, I had talked to your sister at one point and she seemed exclusively interested in pegasi. I guess I assumed you would be the same way.”

Drift’s blush disappears in an instant and her eyes get huge as they snap to Cure and he realizes she’s misunderstood. Holding a hand up he very quickly says, “Wait! You misunderstand! I wasn’t coming on to her, she was just venting about how few pegasi colts there were at her school.”

“Oh,” she mumbles, instantly calming down. “Yeah, sissy’s coltfriend is a pegasus in her class.”

“Right, I remember you mentioned that when we got treats that one time. Anyhow, Glacial, I owe you an even bigger apology,” he says, turning to face the platinum filly.

“I have no excuse for being a jerk to you. You’ve never done anything to me that warranted that. I really am sorry for how I acted. What I said was probably very hurtful. I do want to be your friend, and if you feel the same way, maybe more when we’re older, but what I said had nothing to do with you yourself, it’s more along the lines of a kind of rule I have.

“If being friends with a pony means I have to let them or somepony else hurt my feelings and be mean to me, then I wouldn’t be their friend for long. Not because I don’t want to, but because I can’t stand the thought of somepony else having free rein to abuse me. It goes back to the whole ‘taking advantage’ thing. Letting somepony treat me like crap is a price I’m not willing to pay for somepony that I’m still in the early friendship kind of ‘phase’ with,” he explains with air quotes

He catches himself using his hands so readily; that motion does have a pony-equivalent, but he’s not sure why since hooves don’t really convey quotation marks at all. Chalking it up to another weird pony-human crossover that can’t be explained, he dismisses the thought and moves on.

“I mean, it’s different if like… I dunno, you’re dating somepony for a few months and they start treating you badly. You may try to work that out and address the behavior. If somepony treats you like crap on the first date, though, you’ll never give ‘em a second, right?” he asks, getting agreeing nods from the pair.

“Good. Anyhow, I hope you can both forgive me for lashing out like that. I’m sure it was shocking coming from me since you’ve only ever seen the ‘happy, friendly Cure’ but nopony can be like that all the time.”

Drift quickly nods in agreement, apologizing again despite Cure’s insistence that it’s not necessary. Glacial remains silent throughout the discussion, then when they’re finally done, speaks up. “That really upset me, Cure,” she starts, causing him to let out a soft sigh and nod in acknowledgement. “I was mad at Drift at first because of what she said, but after I thought about it I was really angry with you too. You’re right; you shouldn’t have gone off on us like that.”

Drift is sitting upright looking at her friend in surprise. She evidently didn’t expect this kind of response at all. Cure didn’t either, but he knows he was in the wrong and can only accept the criticism. “I know. I’m sorry. I don’t know what else to say,” he insists, hanging his head and feeling his ears pin back.

“Well just saying sorry isn’t good enough!” she growls, jabbing an accusing hoof at him. She stands and takes a step forward, looming over the lying down colt. “You’re going to have to make it up to me!” she growls again, then turns to face towards the door, right side facing him, and lays on her barrel, spreading her wings up off of her back and smiling internally when his eyes snap up to them. “So get started!”

“Hey!” Drift softly whines, “What about me?”

“You got yours already,” Glacial declares, turning her snout up and away from her friend. “It’s my turn now. Let’s see how good those hands really are.”

“Yes ma’am,” he excitedly shouts, crawling up to sit by her withers. “It’ll take a moment for them to warm up…”

Watching Cure lead the girls upstairs, Vines couldn’t help but feel a little nervous. She’s sure he’s not going to try to start an argument but that Drift filly certainly seems to get him riled up. In Vines’ opinion he should probably be done with her, even if his crush goes too.

Vines has heard him complain a dozen times about the mares he works on talking about their daughters, nieces, or in some cases, younger sisters. If Cure wants a pretty pegasus filly to be friends with and, maybe eventually more, then he only has to express the slightest interest and he’ll have a dozen fillies that would be thrilled to have him.

He doesn’t need ponies in his life that are going to just keep taking, especially ones that can’t even find it in themselves to act like a decent friend. The colt is loyal to a fault, though, and as long as Drift is making an effort at all then he’ll be there for her through thick and thin, whether she really deserves it or not.

“Well, I don’t hear any yelling yet,” Title comments, ears aiming at the staircase. “But then we all know what’s going to happen. If they weren’t coming to make up they wouldn’t have come at all.”

“Yup, got that right, babe. They damn sure wouldn’t ‘a followed ‘em to his room. You did hear him slam that door shut, didn’t ya?” he asks with a mischievous grin.

Title rolls her eyes at the stallion saying, “Of course I did. I only said it to annoy him anyhow. The little brat doesn’t hesitate to give me a hard time, so why shouldn’t I return the favor?”

“That right there is quality parentin, babe,” Deed agrees with a nod.

“Oh shut it. If he was a normal foal you know I wouldn’t, but he can take it just fine. Honestly, I know he’ll always be your baby. He’s mine too, but there’s no reason to treat him like one most’a the time. He certainly doesn’t think like a foal, even if he does behave like one sometimes.”

“Do you think one of us should go check on them?” Vines hesitantly asks.

“What for?” Title asks. “It’s not like they’re going to get in a fight, and that filly couldn’t hurt him if she tried. They’re too young to be up there messing around, so aside from talking the only thing that’ll happen is a snuggle pile.”

“He had a bad morning. I’m worried that filly will say something and he’ll lose his temper.”

“He wouldn’t hurt her,” Title insists. “Worst case scenario he throws ‘em out again. He’d never hurt a fo-” she stops mid-sentence when she hears a sound she hadn’t expected. All three parents’ ears, then heads snap to the direction of the stairs. “What the…?”

“OOOHHhhhh my staaaars! Cuuuure!!!”

“Sweet Celestia… can you do me too or do you need a break first?”

“Sure, Drift. You know I don’t get tired. I’ll get you in a minute. See what I’m doing? This is her sensitive spot right here. You pay that a lil attention and she’ll be screaming to the heavens every time.”

“Don’t stop! RIGHT THERE! Sun and stars that feels amazing! AHhhhhhh... Sweet Celestia... ”

The three parents share a look; Deed one of amusement and pride, Vines a mixture of joy and concern. Title, on the other hoof, is livid. “That little slut!” she snarls, starting to stand up. “She’s getting my massage!”

Deed jumps up, wraps his forelegs around her withers and chest, then rolls onto his back pulling the envious mare into his chest. Ignoring her protests, he plants kisses up her neck and on her chin saying, “Ya ain’t goin up there and ruinin the colt’s fun, babe.”

“But…” she starts with a pout, “he was going to do me before that harlot showed up,” she whines.

“And I’m sure he still will, but yer gonna hafta wait yer turn.”

Title pouts at her husband and gets an amused smile, then a big kiss on the cheek in return. “Fine!” she grumbles, laying her head on his chest. “I get him first tonight, though.”

“Were they really that good?” Vines asks.

“Yes! Definitely! He wasn’t even using his talent or warming those fingers. At least, I don’t think he was. It kind of reminded me of my dam grooming me when I was little, just smaller and more flexible. And stronger.”

Vines only spends a moment thinking back to those days before agreeing. “That does sound nice. I hope he doesn’t mind, though.”

“Oh please,” Deed scoffs, waving a dismissive hoof, “he’ll probably insist as soon as he’s done with this one,” he says, poking the pink mare’s side. “Now get over here and give yer stallion some love.”

With Title half on their husband’s left side, Vines walks around the pair and leans on his right, resting her chin on him and nuzzling into her wife’s cheek. With a sigh she snuggles down into his muscular chest and relaxes, ignoring the awkward noises now coming from the other filly upstairs.

Her two mates are out like lights, but Vines’ curiosity is eating at her the whole time, especially when all noise stops. After listening for a few minutes with her hearing turned all the way up, all she can hear is the steady breathing and heartbeats of everypony in the house.

Gently sliding her head and neck back as she moves away, Vines escapes her husband’s foreleg, which quickly joins the other wrapping around their wife. She makes her way upstairs as quietly as possible. Cracking the door open, she finds her son and the fillies asleep and in exactly the same position she just vacated.

With Glacial on his left and Drift on his right, Cure has a foreleg around each, holding them tight to his chest. He still has hands, and each is resting just below the girls’ withers above their flight muscles, still gently scritching them in his sleep. He must have gotten both of their wings really well because they’re all spread open, covering the three in a blanket of feathers and crisscrossing over top of him.

She can’t deny it; the feather blanket does look very comfortable, and from the big smile on his upside-down face Cure couldn’t be happier. The girls look blissed out of their minds with content smiles and, if Vines isn’t mistaken, a bit of drool leaking out of the corner of their mouths onto his chest.

Cure must have rearranged them after the girls passed out because there’s no way they ended up like that otherwise. Hopefully they won’t mind, but Vines is fairly certain there’s not any laws on the books about dubious snuggle consent.

She’ll still have to have a word with her son just to be safe, though. At their age it’s just a few adorable foals taking a nap together; in a few years the same thing could lead to a very unfortunate misunderstanding.

With little else to do, she gently pushes the door shut and quietly sneaks down the stairs to rejoin her mates, relieved that the worry her son had over the pair can be dismissed.

Author's Note

So just to clarify the date thing a little, and feel free to skip this...
Edward died 6/21/2020
The Summer Solstice in the northern hemisphere in 2020 happened on 6/20.
Cure was born on this day in the year 900 AB, or 900 years after Luna's banishment and 100 years, presumably, before her return.

So 6/20 is special for a couple reasons. First, it's the date Edward's wife died, which is why he said he could go for a drink. He had, after all, been feeling a bit down before they opened presents, specifically citing memories, so now it's dawned on him that every birthday / summer solstice will be a reminder of his dead wife. Keep in mind, ponies don't really celebrate birthdays anyhow since they're basically all born in one of two seasons.

It's also the date Cure was born on. So, looking only at the day/month part of the date, Cure was born before Edward died, or at least that's what Cure is thinking, so he's also under the impression now that he is definitely not Edward reincarnated.

Is this a big deal? Not particularly; Cure had already more-or-less decided that he was going to treat this like HIS life either way (not Edward II: Electric Boogaloo), and has said so several times. Would that lessen the hurt or devalue the memories he has? Eh, no, probably not. Feelings and emotions, after all, are not so easily turned off. Of course, as time passes they'll become more distant, just like everything does in life.

So, just a few announcements. I'm working on 48 right now. 45 is done, and 46 was going to be one chapter but once I started pushing on 20k I just had to split it, so 46 and 47 are one weekend, then we're probably skipping clear into March with some smaller chapters. We shall see...

See we shall...

yeesssssss.................

Chapter 45: Heartfelt Goodbyes

Sunday, January 4th, 909 AB (3 days later)

“THIRTY FUCKING THOUSAND BITS?!”

“CURE!” Title shouts.

“WHAT?!”

“You’re shouting, you idiot!”

“Can you blame me?! That’s like… half of this god damn house!”

Scoffing, Title shakes her head, “Honey, that’s over half of this house… and honestly, I expect your actual bill to be a little higher.”

“HIGHER? DOES SHE WANT THE FUCKING BLOOD OUT OF MY VEINS?” he screams, crossing his right hoof over his left pastern and waving the foreleg in the air.

Quickly coming down the stairs, Deed looks at the enraged colt. “Easy, champ… What in the hay is wrong with him?” he asks, turning to look at his wife. Vines is looking out from the kitchen, clearly shocked at the outburst.

“He was a little nuts at the tax office too, but… come on, Cure, you’re better than this. You made a little over ninety thousand bits in eighty days, ya big baby.”

“Fine!” he growls, throwing his hooves in the air. After a few calming breaths, he slowly nods. “You’re right. I’m really sorry, mom.” He walks over to the mare and wraps her in a hug. “Sorry dad, sorry dam. I dunno why I lost my temper.”

“I think it happens to everypony the first time they get a tax bill, son. Yours bein so much higher just means it hits a lot harder.”

“I do not like hearing that kind of language from you, young stallion,” his dam scolds, waving a spoon his way. “Especially when you knew this was coming. There was no reason for that!” Just like the other day, the sting from his dam’s admonishment really hurts, and despite his mental age, Cure can feel his head droop, ears pin back, and tail go limp.

Releasing his mom and, with his head down, he slinks over to his dam and leans into her chest, “I know, dam. I really am sorry. It’s just… sooo much money.”

Wrapping a foreleg around her colt, she pets down his back while agreeing. “I know it is, sweetie, but you have to look at the big picture. You’ve made way more money in one quarter than most ponies do in a whole year. It’s only fair that you pay your share too.”

With one last nuzzle, he nods and, still hanging his head, trudges back to lay next to his mom, giving his sire a quick nuzzle along the way. “I’m sorry, everypony. Like you said, I should be better than that. It’s just so much more in taxes than I’ve ever seen and seeing so much just… go away set me off.”

Title puts her right foreleg over his lower back and rests some of her weight on him, holding the colt close. “It’s okay, honey. I get it. I just can’t believe you’ve made so much money. This is over three times what me and your sire make together… and that’s after your cutie mark ideas. We’re officially rich, I think.”

“Well…” he sighs again, “that’s good, I guess. Another quarter like that and I think it’s time we got a nicer house.”

Deed makes his way over and lays on Cure’s right while Vines goes back to getting lunch ready.

“Is this yer ledger?”

“Yeah, the first entry is the first time Uncle Lucky brought that first mare. I’ve underlined those just so they stand out, but all the rest is my cosmetic business. I only collected pay from the clinic for the first three times I worked there, so my tax bill from that will be like… fifty bits, I guess.”

Deed lets out an impressed whistle at the ledger showing amounts anywhere from three hundred bits on, apparently, a slow day back towards the start of the business, all the way up to seventy five hundred bits on a single busy one. He knows that was the Sunday just before Hearth’s Warming where he deaged a husband and his wives over three hours.

“Any idea how many actual hours of work ya got here, champ?”

“I didn’t track that, but most appointments are less than twenty minutes. I’ve had about a hundred and sixty cosmetic customers, but as you can tell from the ledger the ones towards the end of the quarter were all a lot more involved. Over a third of this is from the fifteen ponies I’ve deaged. Well, the ones I’ve charged, at least.”

“Yep,” Title agrees, “several of those and yer flank fluffin mares comin in once word got out. I think we should send that newspaper mare a fruit basket or somethin.”

“Yeah, would you mind doing that for me? Just take the money and send her the nicest gift basket you can find, I do owe her for that. Maybe put a voucher in there for a free session if you think that would help.”

“I think you already made her pretty happy that day, so I’ll just send her the basket.”

“Alright,” he agrees, leaning his head under her chin. “Still can’t believe it… thirty grand.”

“Son, you’re payin more in taxes than I made in any six quarters from when you were born until I met yer mom.” Deed’s statement hits Cure pretty hard, making him feel like even more of an asshole for throwing a hissy fit over paying less than a one third tax rate on, likely, ten times as much income as the three of them got by on. “Hmm… a hundred ‘n sixty customers at three per hour… so you’ve worked about fifty three hours last quarter, champ?”

“I guess. That sounds right.”

“Son… your hourly pay, based on when you’re actually working, at least, is somewhere around seventeen hundred bits.”

Title does a full body shudder when she realizes Deed’s math is accurate. The colt is a walking gold mine. She never thought of him as anything but her son, but having hard numbers showing how valuable his talent is… it’s shocking. He makes more money in just over an hour than they do on a house sale, and it’s only his first quarter and he’s severely limited by his magic.

With a long sigh, Cure can only nod in acceptance of his sire’s subtle criticism. “Good point, pa. I guess I really am just acting like a baby.” Reaching out, he flips the ledger shut. “I accept the necessity of it, but it doesn’t mean I’m exactly thrilled with it. Oh well, I guess somepony has to make sure Bulwark and Haze are gettin paid.” Cure lays his head on Title’s foreleg and lets out another sigh. “Are you two coming today?”

“Of course.”
“We all are, champ.”

“Good. I’m gonna miss ‘em.”

“Aww…” Title coos, gently nosing into his mane. “He’s really become a big brother to ya, hasn’t he?”

“Yeah. I wasn’t sure how he would act when I first met him. Ya know, bein twice my age and all, almost, but… yeah, he’s been really cool from the start. I’m lucky Dawn brought him around.”

“Any idea what the colt’s planning after Basic?”

“Dunno if you can keep callin ‘em a colt, dad. He’s been an adult for a year now. Besides, he’s only like… nine years younger than you and’ll be fully grown probably by summer. Well, fully naturally grown at least. He asked for me to keep him in his growth phase for a little longer.” Cure rolls to his left, turning to wrap his forelegs around his mom’s neck and giving her a small tug so she lays down on his neck and chin.

Cure gives her a peck on the chin and continues, “As far as I know he’s going to come back for a few weeks, then either try to get into the Artillery school or the Medic Corps. I think he wants to do Artillery if he can, though… I just don’t know if he has the magic capacity for it.”

“I bet he does,” Title says. “You went above and beyond for him, honey. With the shape he’s in he’ll blow through Basic, and with that horn upgrade you gave ‘em he’ll probably be the best caster too. I bet they’ll put him anywhere he asks to be when he graduates.”

“I hope it’s somewhere safe. I need to order one of those books for ‘em just in case, though.”

“The scroll books you saw in that catalog?”

“Yeah, I was going to get one for each of us too. With this kind of income you never know if somepony’s gonna target you, so I figure if you and dad each had a few shield scrolls, a couple teleports, some stunners, a slow fall or two, and, in case it gets real ugly, some heavy hitters then I’ll feel a lot better.”

“That sounds like a lotta firepower, son. We ain’t the richest ponies out there, ya know… there’s other ponies they’d go after first.”

“Maybe, but neither of you have any experience defending yourselves. At some point I want you two going to the range with me. We’ll just take a bunch of scrolls and gems, that way you can get familiar with aiming them and activating them quickly. They won’t be very useful to you if you’re just carrying them with no idea how they work.”

“Sounds like it could be fun, honey. Maybe after I have the foal we can take turns going two at a time.”

“Hmm… dad? You’re leavin for your seminar next week. I can put a bolt spell in the mid crystal and a shield and stunner in a couple mid-lows before I head over to Dawn’s. Those will at least give you an idea of how to aim and how much power it takes to recharge. I’ll make you some scrolls and a subdermal pouch for the shield and teleport scrolls so, even if you’re searched, nopony will find ‘em.”

“Honey, nothing will happen to your sire in Canterlot,” Title argues, rolling her eyes. “You saw how many guards are patrolling the place.”

“So? He’ll come back with all of them still charged then. Where’s the harm in that?”

“I… guess,” she reluctantly concedes.

“I don’t mind, son. I know yer just worried ‘bout yer pa. We’ll go to the range later if it’ll make ya feel better.”

Vines calls from the kitchen, “Get ready for lunch!”

Title sits up, leans down, and plants a kiss on Cure’s chin, then another on Deed’s cheek before trotting off to get cleaned up. After hoisting Cure up onto his hooves and giving him a quick hug, Deed follows the mare, Cure doing the same a moment later.

After a delicious lunch, Cure gets ready to head into town. The weather team had, as is tradition, given the town about a hoof of snow the day before Hearth’s Warming Eve, and even though it was mostly gone Cure was still happy to have his built-in sunglasses. The nictitating membrane also provides a nice windshield in addition to its primary function.

Solar’s departure time is two o’clock, but he and his family insisted Cure join them before he heads to the station. Foregoing a coat since he no longer feels the cold, Cure grabs his bags and makes his way into town, brimming with anxiety. He knows his adoptive big brother isn’t going anywhere truly dangerous, but just the thought of the possibility some day makes his insides churn.

A quick knock and the door opens to a depressed looking Dawn, something Cure can barely stand to see. Wordlessly, he steps into the house, pushes the door shut behind him, and wraps his forelegs around the downtrodden filly.

As she nuzzles into the side of his neck he gently whispers, “It’s alright, Sunrise. He’s just goin away to train for a couple months. He’ll be back by spring, not to mention his half days.” With a quick peck to the cheek he releases the girl, nudges her back into the living room, and hangs his bags on a peg by the door.

Walking into the living room he finds Solar on a couch with Starlight Shine across his withers. Gleaming Haze and Emerald Aura are on another couch snuggled together.

Cure sits on his haunches and rubs his forehooves together. “Well if it isn’t every unicorn in the entire city, all in one place!” he loudly declares. “Now is my time to strike for all of earth pony kind! Bwahahaha!” he shouts, triumphantly waving both hooves in the air.

“Oh no,” Haze deadpans, “Run, honey, I’ll hold him off for you,” he continues in a flat tone, getting a snicker from Starlight and an eye roll from everypony else.

He thrusts a hoof in Haze’s direction and shouts, “Resistance is futile! There’s nopony that can stop my dastardly plan!” Sweeping the hoof to the others he continues, “Soon you shall all meet your fate!”

“Sweet Celestia,” Solar asks, mid-facehoof, “how many comic books have you read?”

Dawn gives Cure a shove, pushing herself sideways a little, then rolls her eyes and trots past him to hop up on the free couch.

“More than any sane colt my age ever should, my friend,” he answers, hopping up on Dawn’s right and leaning against the filly. “So, how was the party?”

“It was really nice, Cure. We had a lot of fun. Thanks again for that,” he answers as Starlight hops off the couch, walks over, and wraps him in a hug while planting a big kiss between his ears.

Cure had met her when he and Solar’s family had all gone to get the pair measured for a tuxedo and a fancy dress. The young mare looked absolutely stunning in the black evening gown Velvet Stitch, the boutique owner, had suggested and Emerald was nearly glowing in excitement. She’d been around a few times since then, but Solar is smitten with the girl, so he’s been spending a lot more time with her than anypony else over the last few weeks.

“Oh my,” he starts in a faux deep voice, “I know I’m irresistible, my dear,” he says, batting his lashes, “but your paramour is right there,” he teases, pointing a hoof at Solar. “Try not to make him too jealous now, you know how aggressive those military types can get.”

After giggling at the silly colt she gives him a quick nuzzle. “Thank you for everything you did, Cure. We had a wonderful time that night. The party was fantastic, and that’s coming from me!”

Solar had mentioned that she was an event planner, so if it exceeded her standards then that’s a win in Cure’s book.

Cure has to hold back a snicker when, as the mare hops up to get back on Solar’s withers, Dawn climbs up on his to stake her claim. He shifts to his left a little and leans his head back to nuzzle into the left side of her cheek.

“Did you get to meet anypony interesting?”

“Eh, just a few other young stallions and mares that’ll be joining me on the train today. There were a few business ponies’ foals there too, but that was the first fancy party like that I’ve ever been to, so I didn’t really know what to do. I just kinda followed Shiny around,” he explains, getting a smile from the girl.

“He was adorable,” she teases. “You should have seen how many other mares were checking him out when I dragged him on the dance floor. He got all cute and stammery whenever anypony asked to cut in,” she says, leaning forward and nipping at an ear causing the red colt’s coat to darken a shade.

“That’s my colt!” Haze cheers with a chuckle.

“Aww,” Dawn gushes, “look how dark he’s turning!” which even gets a light giggle from Emerald.

“Reminds me of somepony else, Sunrise. I think you get almost that dark too,” Cure adds with another nuzzle. Looking back to the colt he admits, “I think I would feel pretty out of place at something like that. I’m sure I’ll get dragged to a few eventually, though,” he finishes with a sigh.

“I bet you will, mister big shot,” Solar agrees.

“Yeah, that starts back up next weekend, then we’re skipping a few for the births.”

“Oh yeah? Any idea who?”

“Yeah, they gave me the info during my shift yesterday. It’s another unicorn.”

“Am I missing something?” Starlight asks, thoroughly confused as to what Solar and Cure are discussing.

“I do some volunteer work,” Cure explains. “I can’t really talk about it much, though, since it’s confidential.”

“Oh.”

“Yeah, sorry. It’s all very hush hush, ya know? Some bad creature goes out and starts trouble and next thing ya know the princess is at my door all like ‘Cure,” he starts in a squeaky silly mare’s voice getting a chuckle from Haze, “only the most brilliant, dashing, and powerful pony can save the day! Please, I beg you… can you see if Solar is available?’”

Haze, Emerald, and Starlight all bark out a laugh, but the two that have had more Cure exposure just roll their eyes and sigh. “You’re such a dork,” Dawn comments, getting an agreeing nod from her brother.

“Yeah, probably,” Cure agrees, then turns to Starlight. “Seriously, though, Star, I do some volunteer work and it’s all health stuff, so I can’t go into details. Sorry I can’t tell ya more.”

Scoffing, she waves the issue away, “It’s fine, I figured if you got those tickets you must have some serious connections. It does seem odd for a colt your age, though.”

“To be fair,” Haze starts, “he is very odd for a colt of his age. Or any age.”

“Hey! My taxes pay your wages, sergeant! Ya oughta be nicer to your patrons!”

“And the guard thanks you for your contribution,” he coolly answers with a big smile.

“Contribution my tail, highway robbery is what it is. I almost popped my top this morning. We did the math for my first quarter. It’s… ugly,” he admits with a scrunched up snout. “Meh, enough money talk, I don’t need to lose my cool again. So when are you gonna be back, dude? Next Sunday?”

“The first day they’re letting us go is in three weeks, so the 25th. From there on I’ll be home from about one ‘till six every Sunday for two and a half months.”

“Cool. I’ll be at the station ta greet ya. If there’s something that you want when you get home just say the word. What was Basic like for you, sarge?” Cure asks. “Any good stories?”

“Not really from Basic,” Haze explains. “It’s not a fun time. We did have one stallion get caught on one of the mare floors, though. That was kinda funny.”

“Gleaming…” Emerald warns with a scowl.

“I’ll keep it clean. Mostly,” he insists.

“What happened?” Solar asks.

“Apparently he was visiting a lady friend up there, so when the drill sergeant came around makin sure nopony was up there that wasn’t supposed to be he dove in one of the storage trunks,” he explains, chuckling.

“This fella was a damn big earth pony, so the drill sergeant comes through the mares’ dorm and sees the mare laying there looking innocent with a cracked-open locker at the end of her bunk and half a tail hangin out of it.”

Solar winces at the image. “Oh no…”

“Oh yeah,” Haze insists with a slow nod and a grimace. “That sergeant read her the riot act for not properly packing her gear away, then pulled out a knife, cut his tail off, kicked the stump into the trunk, and slammed the lid shut. She had to stomp it down real good to get it to latch. I think she actually jumped up on it and bounced a few times before it did.

“The poor bastard was lucky those metal trunks aren’t airtight because that sarge kept chewin the mare out for a solid fifteen minutes. She made her get a broom and a dustpan and sweep up her stallion’s tail and everything.”

Shaking his head, he continues. “The sarge had her take it half way across base to the far dumpsters since it was biological waste, carrying the dustpan in her mouth the whole way while screaming her head off at the poor mare the whole time.

“Keep in mind, the stallion’s tail was way too big to fit in the pan, so every time she got a piece in her nose and sneezed or just had a hair fall out the sergeant made her stop and pick up all the pieces again. I think he was locked in that trunk for almost an hour.”

“By the time they made it back the bottom of the trunk was smeared with the… results… of their activities, not to mention a whole lot of sweat. They called him Tiny Tail or Double-T for the last six weeks of basic and made him wear a mare’s uniform and armor the whole time, saying if he was in the mare’s part of the barracks then he must be one, and therefore should dress appropriately.”

“As I understand it he had to… uhh… wrap himself pretty heavily to prevent chafing on the runs. That armor was tight on him. He did mention that it helped keep... well, parts warm that a tail apparently usually helps with more than you would think.”

“Wow…”

With a grave expression, Haze warns his son. “Do not piss off your DS, son. They’ll make the whole rest of Basic into absolute Tartarus if you do.”

“Good advice, dad.”

“Mrs. Aura,” Cure asks, “did you ever consider joining?”

“Not at all. I was never interested in joining the guard. Physical exertion is not for me… and that sounds absolutely horrid.”

“Huh… What about you, Sunrise? You wanna be a battlemage some day?”

“I think I would. I have a lot of fun at the range and learning new spells is really exciting. I wanna be a total hardflank too. I’m not too worried about the physical stuff anymore.”

“That’s my girl!”

“I’m sure you’ll be great, sis.”

“Cool. Maybe I’ll tag along. I’ve thought about at least joining the reserves. The last thing I want to do is get totally locked into my job to the point I can’t do anything else, though. I think I’d eventually burn out.”

“I thought you liked what you’re doing,” Dawn says, nosing an ear.

“I do, and my volunteer job makes me feel like I’m doing real good, but I’m just not sure I can do that all day every day forever, ya know?”

“There’s nothing wrong with that, son,” Haze encourages. “You have to get out there and live your life while you’re young. I certainly never expected the guard to bring me here, of all places.”

“Oh?” Cure asks, “How did you end up here?”

“Well, there’s not a lot of movement in the ranks, as you can imagine. When a post opened up for a second in command position I knew it would probably be a long time before another came around, so I applied. The squad needed a medic, so I had the right qualifications. My Emmy,” he says, nuzzling his wife, “was able to transfer to the local clinic easily enough, so here we are.”

“Well, I’m darn glad ya did, sarge,” Cure says, nuzzling Dawn again and getting one in return.

“So cuuute!” Starlight gushes from atop Solar, who’s faking a disgusted face.

“I admit, I wasn’t thrilled to have to move here,” Emerald explains, “but this town has been good for us. It’s nice. Much quieter than Manehattan, and I’m far happier with my job. It’s been a good place to raise our foals,” she finishes with a fond smile.

“I’m kinda surprised they don’t have you go to other buildings and clean them too, honestly,” Cure notes. “I haven’t seen anypony that keeps an area clean like you do.”

Emerald beams at the compliment and is just about to respond when Haze speaks up. “I think it’s time to leave, son.”

Solar lets out a sigh and nods, shifting slightly to signal Starlight to climb off him.

“Do you need to take anything?” Dawn asks.

Haze shakes his head no. “Nope. They don’t let you bring anything with you, honey. Not even a set of bags. The only thing you bring is yourself; they’ll have all his paperwork in Baltimare waiting for him.”

As a group, everypony quietly gets ready and heads out together. Several other families with young mares and stallions are doing the same thing, so a quiet procession of families collectively make their way to the station, preparing to say goodbye to their foals, most of whom are leaving home for the first time.

Outside the station is a small gathering of ponies, including many city leaders and the mayor, all coming out to cheer the town’s children on as they set forth on their first foray into adulthood.

Solar is greeted by several friends his age, none of whom Cure knows. Off to the side is the running group, all cheering and wishing him luck. Vines, Deed, Title, Amethyst, and Lemon stand behind the group like coaches and a youth team posing for pictures, all waving to the young stallion.

When the “All Aboard” is called, Solar is wrapped in a hug by his family, gives them each a kiss, then does the same to Starlight. After giving his friends a hoof bump, he turns to Cure to do the same. Cure grabs the hoof and yanks him forwards into a hug instead, squeezing the young stallion around the neck and wishing him good luck before letting go.

Solar gives his sister and parents another quick nuzzle and walks through the crowd, boarding the train, then finding an unoccupied window to give one last wave before the doors close, the whistle blows, and the train begins moving.

Though the filly is down, Dawn quickly finds herself surrounded by the rest of the foals hugging and nuzzling her to provide encouragement and support. Quietly getting everypony’s attention, Cure points the group to a crying Emerald leaning heavily on her husband.

Though most of the group barely knows the mare, they know who she is, so it’s only a few seconds before she finds herself and Haze at the center of a nine foal group hug, something that it is physically impossible to cry in.

Families begin departing several minutes later, and the quiet atmosphere permeating the area follows them back to their homes.

Cure trots over to his parents and quickly tells them he’s going back with Dawn to be a comforting presence, getting an approving nod in return. Rejoining the family, he keeps his side against his fillyfriend until they reach their home.

Starlight, having only met the family a few times, takes her leave from the group as the other four go inside.

Once inside, Emerald climbs into the couch Solar had been on, lays her head down, and cries. Dawn quickly climbs up and crawls under her neck, squirming herself between her dam’s forelegs and nuzzling her chin with her cheek. Haze leans into the mare on her left side and Cure takes the right.

The group, exhausted from worry and weary from emotions, soon falls asleep.

A knock at the door startles Cure and Haze out of sleep, the two vacating the sides of the sleeping mare at once, then blearily sharing a look. Cure gives the “after you” wave to the door and follows the stallion to see who’s there. Haze opens the door to find Deed’s smiling face with the wives behind him and food on everypony’s back.

“Howdy, neighbor! We thought maybe y’all could use a good meal. Nothin helps a long day more ‘n some good eats an’ a lil company,” he cheerily explains.

“Heh… that sounds great,” Haze agrees, stepping out of the way. “Come on in, everypony.”

The motion and noise starts to rouse the sleeping unicorns, who watch in a daze as Cure’s parents pile in and, with Haze’s help, set the table for dinner.

Haze approaches his wife and daughter, shaking them lightly with a hoof and telling them to go clean up. The two come out of their stupor and, after refreshing themselves, join the group at the now crowded table. Emerald and Haze take one side and find their daughter and Cure to Emerald’s right, Deed to Haze’s left, and Vines and Title opposite them.

Voice full of concern, Vines encourages them to eat up. “I know how saying goodbye to family feels,” she softly explains, “but you’ll see your son soon. He’ll be fine while he’s at training and he’ll be back before you know it. It sounds like he’s got a little fillyfriend, so maybe grandfoals will come along soon too!” she finishes with an excited wiggle.

“They do seem quite sweet on each other,” Emerald agrees, nodding slowly and taking her first bite.

“I betchya anything he’s gonna have half the mares in training followin him home like lost puppies,” Cure says, causing Emerald to choke and getting a punch from Dawn. “Ah fudge, I’m sorry Mrs. Aura, all I meant is that I haven’t seen any other unicorn stallions in shape like him.”

“The colt’s right,” Deed declares. “Could use a lil work on the timin, though, champ,” he adds with a weak scowl.

“My bad!”

Sighing, Title tries to help, “He’s not wrong though. Your son is in fantastic shape, especially considering he’s still growing. You got nothin to worry about. He’ll come back stronger, more determined, more confident, and ready to take on the world. He’ll be very successful, I’m sure.”

“And ya know who’s mostly responsible for that?” Cure asks. Pointing a hoof at the two he answers, “You two. Ya raised a great colt and he’s gonna keep kicking plot,” he finishes with a firm nod.

“Yeah, dam. Big bro’ll be fine. He’ll be back soon.”

“They’re right, honey. Chin up. We’ll see him in a few weeks, alright?” Turning to the parents, Haze continues, “I really appreciate you all coming over and bringing this wonderful food. We’re very grateful for our son and daughter meeting you all. Thank you, from the bottom of my heart.”

“My husband is right. This was very kind of you, especially given my shameful behavior in the past. I truly am grateful.”

“Water under the bridge,” Vines insists, waving the issue away.

“Couldn’t ‘a said it better, babe! Everypony dig in!” Deed jovially commands, helping himself. Everypony else joins in and, despite the dour feeling, enjoys a nice, if quiet, dinner together.

With only a few bites left of his food, Cure looks to his sire and asks, “Did you bring the crystals and scrolls?”

“Sure did.”

“Great. Hey Dawn?” Cure calls between bites.

“Hmm?”

“You know my pa’s goin to an investing seminar next week, right?”

Continuing to eat, she nods with an “Mmhmm.”

“I was gonna send him with some protection. Scrolls, crystals, and stuff. We’re goin to the range after dinner so he can get a feel for how to use ‘em all. You wanna come?” Quickly looking at her parents he adds, “You’re both welcome to come too, if you want, of course.”

“I think I’ll pass tonight,” Haze says, setting his utensils by his now empty plate. “I think we’re going to relax a little and just spend some time together. You two go have fun, just be home before the sun sets, honey.”

“Okay daddy,” she nods in agreement.

“We won’t be long, sarge, and we’ll drop her off before we head home.”

“Sounds good, Cure. Be safe.”

“We’ll help you clean up before we leave,” Vines insists. “You two go relax and we’ll be out of your manes before you know it.”

“Much appreciated,” Haze agrees with a nod, nudging his wife back into the living room.

The group breaks up from there. Dawn, Deed, and Cure take off to the range, him going in his normal colors for once. Emerald and Haze relax in the living room while Vines and Title clean everything with a few crystals and put everything away, then pack up everything they brought in one of the saddlebags.

Before leaving Vines approaches the pair. “We’re all set to go. Before we leave I just wanted to let you know that if you both have an evening shift and need somepony to watch Dawn and make sure she gets dinner, she’s always welcome in our home. You too if you’re getting off late and don’t have food ready at home.”

“I may occasionally need to take you up on that,” Emerald says with a sigh. “I’ve changed my availability at the clinic, but you know how it is sometimes. If I foresee a long day I can go to the school and let her know to come home with your son. Thank you again.”

“Oh think nothing of it,” Vines insists. “Dawn is an absolute sweetheart and we all adore her. If there’s ever anything you need a hoof with just say the word!”

Deed had done well enough at the range. Unlike unicorn magic, spells and crystals do not give the user an innate targeting aura to assist them; instead it is reliant purely on the visualization the caster crafts during the activation of the item.

Also, any change to a spell that requires different runes be applied must be included during enchantment. The user gets an intrinsic understanding of what a crystal can do when holding it; essentially a user interface in their brain. This is supported by the enchantment “program” that encapsulates the actual spell, and adds additional difficulty to preparing the crystal.

It also takes up additional storage space on the crystal itself, potentially reducing the space for the battery if too many options are included.

Magic Missile is a good example due to the flexibility of the spell. There’s different runic sequences available for several parameters. Number of missiles, aiming mechanism, and payload type, for example. A crystal with all options included will be far more flexible, but may only get one shot instead of three because so much more of the crystal is housing the options and, therefore, there’s just less space to store the “battery” part.

Fortunately, with his greatly enhanced visual acuity the lack of an aura proved to be a non-issue for Deed, though he will be unable to use a teleport scroll safely in circumstances where he’s not looking directly at where he wants to go. That, also, is not a huge problem given his ridiculously powerful physique and months of practice actively channeling magic through his muscles.

There are few ponies alive that Cure figures would be able to seriously hurt his sire, especially since he has spent time every night but an occasional Friday for the past few months enhancing the durability of the stallion’s bones, ligaments, tendons, and muscles and giving him the same subdermal armor layer he himself has.

Back towards the end of October Deed was, while unusually strong, still basically just an earth pony. With the changes Cure and he have made he’s essentially a mobile battering ram. Cure’s only real concern, given that Deed would be packing several utility and mobility scrolls and crystals, was that the stallion could accidentally kill a normal pony, especially a unicorn, if he had to fight somepony.

He made sure to warn Deed, then took him to the treeline and had him give a full-powered, magic-enhanced buck to a smaller maple tree for demonstration. The trunk was just a little bigger than one of his sire’s hooves. Cure estimated it a little under a hoof and a half in diameter, so he only used his right leg. Deed’s hooves are a couple centimeters bigger than an average unicorn’s upon which the standard is based.

Dawn’s jaw nearly hit the ground when the trunk exploded in splinters and the tree effectively had a hoof-and-a-half tall segment completely removed from its midsection, toppling over and nearly landing on the bewildered stallion.

The difference in a predator/prey mentality quickly became apparent when Deed, upon seeing the devastation that his attack caused, looked like he would be ill at the thought of hitting a pony that hard. The vivid description Cure gave of him accidentally internally decapitating an attacker certainly didn’t help, but it drove home the notion that he’ll have to be careful to control his power on anypony that he isn’t trying to straight-up kill.

After dropping Dawn back off at her house and grabbing his bags the two make their way home. When they trot in the door they find the mares each reading a book; Title on Vines’ right and leaning against each other.

“How’d it go?” Title immediately asks.

“It went really well,” Cure answers. “Dad’s eyesight seems to help a lot with aiming and stuff, so once I make a few pockets for him to stash the utility gems in he’ll be good to go. He also finally got to see just how much stronger he is compared to four months ago.”

“Oh? What’d you do?”

“Broke a tree in half,” Deed casually answers while trotting over to lay on Title’s other side. The answer gets him raised brows and questioning looks from the pair. “Yep, the colt’s changes combined with magic are somethin else, I tell ya. Don’t go kickin anypony at full power, you’ll kill ‘em on the spot.”

With a horrified look Vines simply asks, “What? What do you mean, honey?” as Deed gets comfortable.

“He means that a full powered one-legged buck literally blew a hoof-wide section of tree out the other side when he used magic to enhance his strength. It also made him slide forward a little bit and almost do a somersault, which worked out well since the tree probably would have hit him when it landed otherwise. He woulda been fine,” he adds with a shrug, “but it woulda been inconvenient patchin up the cuts in his coat from the branches.”

“Yep,” Deed nods, “so just be careful how hard ya hit somepony if ya ever hafta defend yerself. Or just use muscles with no magic, unless it’s a real bad situation, I reckon.”

“Huh. Neat,” Title mutters, looking at her own hoof.

“Yeah, from my experiments at the gym it seems like magic just about triples how hard we hit, so, as unpleasant as the picture is, just consider how messed up a pegasus or, especially, a unicorn would be just from a forward kick… never mind a buck. Our hooves might as well be metal clubs since I’ve enhanced us so much, after all.”

“Honey…” Vines starts in an unsure tone.

“Dam, it’ll only be an issue if you have to defend yourselves. Just don’t channel magic into a hit. With as strong as you all are now you won’t really need it, so just focus your magic on pushing away with your aura instead. It’ll be like your own personal shield. I tested it once… it makes a difference.”

“He’s right, honey,” Title says, giving her a nuzzle. “It’s not like you’re gonna go out picking fights after the bar closes or somethin.”

“Right,” Cure agrees, “you strike me more as a giggly drunk than a mean one,” he teases with a smile.

“I’ve only drank once or twice ever,” she quietly admits.

“Yep, yer dam’s never been a drinker, son. She’s always been the responsible one.”

“Huh. Well, nothin wrong with that. Aside from some vacations in my memories, I don’t have many where Ed drank a lot. I remember a few where Cyndi had a bit too much wine or a strong martini before dinner though.” With an absolutely feral smile he adds, “Those are some interesting memories.”

“Honey!” Vines shouts, uncomfortable with the predatory, lustful look on her son.

“What? They were married and it’s not like I got to pick and choose what memories I got.”

“Still!” she protests with a huff.

“Ooh… details, Cure!”

“Title!”

“Oh come on, babe! The colt’s no shrieking maiden. He’s seen more mares inside and out in the last three months than you have your whole life.”

“Oh my stars, honey!” Vines shouts. “You don’t have to say it like that!”

“Eh, I wasn’t gonna share anyhow. Those were pretty private. She got very… vocal, sometimes, though. Good Lord, a little booze in her and she would say the craziest sh… er, stuff.” With a deep sigh he shakes himself out of the memory, then worms his way between his moms and their books, his right haunch against Vines’ chest, shoulder against his mom’s, and front hooves across his sire’s forelegs.

The weight of his moms' necks across his back and withers makes him start feeling drowsy again, but they haven’t taken care of his trees yet, so after a few minutes he finally breaks the silence.

“Do you all feel up to workin on my trees before we go get cleaned up for bed? Today’s the day I was going to set up the organ responsible for making the antiviral attack cells in the Cure Tree or the antigens in the Vaccine one.”

Cure had, at the tax office, ranted about being screwed over by the government’s valuation of his trees. Though the thought crossed his mind it took no more than a single question from his mom for him to change back his stance.

The trees are, in his mind, his strike at the cause of Cyndi’s death, not to mention Edward's or the untold other millions of innocent humans. The suffering and death of one woman made it personal on a level that no number ever could, even if he never actually knew her. The trees will never save a human life, but they’re the means by which countless millions may be spared the agony he remembers vividly at the end.

“I thought you said antigens fight viruses. What’s the difference there, Cure?”

“The antiviral attack cells will basically do the same thing that white blood cells do. They’ll seek out specific protein markers on cells’ surfaces and, when they find them, kill them off. They’ll only be able to target viral markers, though, so they won’t be harmful to the pony. They’ll only live a week, so once the virus has been eradicated they’ll die off and the kidneys will filter them out into the pony’s urine.

“I’m planning on including a vitamin package specifically designed to help kidney function for when that happens. Once we’re done with this tree thing I really need to get working on something like this stuff called medigel from that game I keep referencing. I think I could probably pull off the full blown bacta tank idea, too. I know Water Breathing now, so I think with a mid tier or better crystal I could disregard that concern. The 'soup' somepony goes in would still be mostly water, after all.

“Anyhow, the antigens will just be fake viral cells that’ll train the body’s immune system to attack the virus. Once the immune system knows to target those markers then the pony should be either immune or much, much more resistant if they encounter the virus somewhere. So antigens train the immune system, antiviral cells supplement it.”

“I can help you, sweetie. Just let me know when you’re ready.”

“Thanks dam.” Sighing, Cure continues his explanation. “Next I’ll have to set up the 'wiring' for lack of a better term. That way the tree can pump the antigens or medicine to the fruit. Then I’ll need to modify the fruit themselves. After everything’s set up I think it’ll be time to activate and integrate the whole network, then start training the tree and making sure it’s producing what I want it to.

“I figure by April or May at the latest I should have a working prototype. I may take a little time to try exposing them each to different viruses to make sure they react right, but by summer they should be ready to be presented to the hospital board.”

“Sounds good, champ. I hope they can keep quiet about the source, though. That’s gonna make the news all over the nation.”

“Yeah. I know they’re already getting some pressure from the other hospitals about these medical trials. I’m sure they’ll hafta explain that they found a pony with a healing talent sooner or later. Otherwise everypony’s gonna want to know why they’re not sharing the treatment.”

Title leans down and nips at his scruff. With a flap of skin gently pinched in her teeth she mumbles out, “They can’t have ya!”

“Don’t worry ma,” he insists while nuzzling into her chest. “I’m not goin anywhere.”

Thursday, January 8th, 909 AB (3 days later)

“Again?”

“Yes, Miss Apple, again.”

“I don’t understand, Cure. You just left early a month ago for the same reason.”

“That was a preliminary meeting to make sure I was saving enough. This is my actual tax appointment so I can see how it’s done the first time. I’m really just doing it today because I’m leaving early for the testing in Baltimare anyhow.”

“Right, right… tryin to get outta my class for good, aren’t you?” she asks with narrowed eyes.

“I mean… no offense, but, are you really teaching me much? I spend more time teachin the other foals than anything.”

Sighing, she can’t help but agree despite the sting to her pride as a teacher. Fortunately Cure approached her during recess this time, so she doesn’t have to listen to the snickers and taunts from everypony while they have their conversation.

“Look,” he starts, “either way I’m stickin around until at least the end of the year, okay? If there’s a subject I don’t do well in I’ll probably still be comin to at least a part of the school day. I see other kids comin and goin like that, you don’t seem to mind them much.”

“They’re teenagers, Cure! You’re eight!”

“Do they do any better on your tests than I do?”

“Well, no…” she reluctantly admits.

“Is it ‘cause I help in class?” he softly asks.

“...maybe,” she admits with a pout.

With a sigh he looks up to the tired looking mare. “You’re doing a good job, Miss Apple. It’s not an easy career, and you’re still learning the job.”

Unable to keep the frown off her face, the white mare whines out, “I thought foals were all supposed to be cute and friendly and helpful,” with a deep breath she waves to the empty seats, “not… obstinate and argumentative and… FLATULENT!”

“It’ll just take a year or two of experience, you’re doing great. Would a hug help?”

“Oh, Cure… you’re smart enough to know the answer to that. A hug always helps,” she says, moving beside her desk and laying on her barrel. Cure happily walks over to her, rears up, and hugs the pretty white mare around her neck, nuzzling into her just behind her ear.

“Just don’t give up, Miss Apple,” he insists with a squeeze. “You’re a good teacher and the first year is always the hardest. I bet by the end of the year you’ll have it down pat,” he says, releasing her and sitting on his haunches.

Nodding in acceptance, the mare stands and walks back behind her desk, laying her head down on it. “Thanks, Cure. I guess you’re right,” she sighs out. “Go on,” she says with a shooing motion. “Good luck on your test. And with your taxes, I suppose. Is business really that good?”

“It is. You should come by the candy shop. I think I can give my favorite teacher a freebie. We’ll have stallions seekin yer hoof in marriage by the wagonful, okay?”

With a hopeful smile, head still on her desk, she looks up dreamily. “You think?”

“Not a doubt in my mind, Miss Apple. You’re already very pretty. Come see me at my job and they’ll have an even harder time takin their eyes offa ya.”

Lifting her head off the desk, a new sense of determination fills the mare. With a firm nod, she meets the colt’s eyes. “Okay! I’ll stop by after work next week. You’re doing your guard thing tomorrow, right?”

“Yep. You could always come by Saturday if that works. I’ll be there around one.”

“I’ll be there! The Sweet Emporium, right?”

“Yep. I’ll let Lemon know you’re coming.” Walking towards the door, he calls back over his withers. “Take care, Miss Apple. I’ll see ya in the mornin.”

“Bye, Cure!” As the door shuts, she relaxes and leans into her seat and quietly mumbles to herself. “Stars I hope it works… I need to get laid so bad.”

After a quick trot to City Hall, Cure spots his mom and sire sitting on the same bench again. “Keepin all the mare chasers away, pa?” he asks as he approaches.

“You betchya champ. I’m comin with this time, too. Somepony’s gotta make sure a certain colt doesn’t lose his mind in there.”

“Bah!” he waves a dismissive hoof. “One time!”

“Honey, you were screaming your head off and asking if they wanted your… What was the phrase?” she asks Deed.

Scratching at his chin, Deed mockingly looks up in deep thought. “I believe it was, ‘Does she want the blood from my veins?’ if I recall correctly.”

“Ya missed a word, pa.”

“Polite ponies don’t use that word outside, son.”

“You mean polite ponies prefer to pass if possible prior to proclaiming profane … uhh…”

“Pronouns?” Title suggests.

“Ehh… nah, I don’t think that works. It’s not a pronoun. Screw it. I’ll be good.”

“Shoulda gone with prior to proffering profanity, son.”

“Huh… yeah, I think that works. At least, it’s better than anything I can come up with.” Cure gets lost in thought for a moment, getting an eye roll from his mom and a knowing smirk from his sire. Finally shaking himself out of it he turns to look at the town hall building.

“Finally back, champ?”

“Yep. You two ready?”

“Sure am.”
“Yes, honey.

“Got my ledger?”

“Right here, Cure,” Title says, patting her bag.

“Alright,” he sighs out. “Let’s go. We need to get this done so I can go get tested.” Trotting towards the door, Cure looks up to his sire. “Hey dad? You doing anything this Saturday around one?” he asks with a smirk.

“Umm… no. Not that I can think of. Why, what’s up?”

“Ya remember how I talked about how much of a hottie my teacher is?”

Title starts snickering at the raised brows on her husband’s face and the confused look he’s giving their son. “Yeah. Quite the looker from the couple times I’ve seen ‘er. Why?”

“Well she’s coming by the candy store this Saturday. I overheard her complain about a glaring deficiency in her life you can help with, with dam and mom's approval, of course. How would you like to do some community service?”

Thursday, January 8th, 909 AB (same day still)
Location: Baltimare Board of Education offices

“Good afternoon. May I help you?” the older receptionist, a light blue unicorn, asks the pair.

“Yes, my son is here to take his EGT. Cure Wave, two o’clock?”

The mare looks down at her schedule, finds the name, and waves them to the side. “I’ll let them know you’re here. Just wait a moment, please.”

Cure and Title move off to the side and hop up on a couch. Title has finally gotten to the point where it’s more comfortable to lay on a side than her barrel, so Cure is happy to snuggle right against her belly with his right haunch pressed against her baby bump.

“I swear I don’t know how you sleep at night. You really oughta just let me move stuff around a bit so you can get comfortable.”

“I sleep fine, honey. I’ve always been a back or a side sleeper more anyhow. Besides, you’ve already done plenty. I feel sorry for every other mare out there that has to deal with actual discomfort during pregnancy. You’ve completely spoiled me,” she says, reaching down to squeeze him against her belly harder.

“To be fair, other mares don’t have to put up with me and my sire, so I think we’re about even. Still, can you tell your occupant to stop kickin my flank nonstop?” Cure looks to his right over his withers and calls back to her bump. “C’mon sis, at least wait till yer outta prison to start beatin me up.”

“She just knows you can take it. Quit yer whinin.”

“I guess… it’s the closest I’ll ever get to bein on the receiving end of a massage, I suppose,” he says with a pout.

Title rolls her eyes at the colt, then gets an idea. “Maybe if you do really well I’ll take you to get you a professional massage when we’re done.”

“Huh… that sounds kinda nice. Ed only ever got one and it didn’t go so well.”

“Yeah?”

“Yup,” he lays his head on her shoulder and whispers up into her left ear, “It wasn’t really the masseuse’s fault, though. She just irritated an old basketball injury he totally forgot existed. He only went once ‘cause he had a gift card someone gave ‘em for Christmas.

“He also went to a chiropractor for a couple of months several years later. He had whiplash and some back pain after a car accident, but very little of what the chiropractor did was massage. He had something I don’t think there’s an equivalent for here.”

“Oh?”

“Yep. I don’t remember what it stands for, but it’s called TENS. I think the ENS stands for electro-neurological shock or something like that… no idea what T stands for. They used tiny, tiny bits of electricity to stimulate muscles to, basically, wake them up. I think. I dunno, there didn’t seem to be any benefit beyond what could be chalked up to typical healing, so Ed stopped going after the insurance benefit ran out.”

“I’m not sure I really understand all’a that, but maybe you can fill in some details later,” Title suggests with a shrug.

“Yeah, it looks like we’re about to be called,” he points out as a middle aged pastel yellow unicorn calls his name.

As they start to stand she approaches the pair and explains. “Miss, you can wait here if you’d like, or you may accompany us. We’re simply going to a testing room where your son will take the Early Graduation Test.” She turns to face Cure and continues, “It’ll be scored immediately afterwards, so if you can wait for about thirty minutes you’ll leave with your results today.”

“How long does the test take?” Cure asks.

“You have two hours. Of course, many that take it come prepared and finish in less, but that’s the most time allowed.”

Cure turns to his mom and gives her a nuzzle. “How about you go do some shopping, maybe get a treat or something and come back? You don’t need to wait here.” Looking up to the unicorn he asks, “Are there any good bakeries nearby you’d recommend?”

She nods and, with a kind smile, points down the street. “There sure is. Best in Baltimare if you ask me. It’s right down the street on the left; The Early Bird Beakery.”

“Beakery?”

“The owner is a griffon. I think he found the pun amusing,” she explains with a giggle.

“Hmm… Momma, how bout you wait for me there? I’ll come find you when I’m done here.”

“Sure thing, honey. Good luck,” she says, planting a kiss on his head. “Don’t go showing off too much, ya hear?”

“Sure thing mom. I’ll show off just enough,” he promises with a wink.

Title had poked around the shopping area for a little while. Truth be told, she didn’t see the point anymore. If she or Vines wanted something there was simply no way anypony would have anything fancier than what Cure could make.

Granted, the way he made them was a little squicky, but between herself, Lemon, Amethyst, and Vines they had yet to come up with a logical reason why wearing a transmuted “Cure skin suit” legitimately was worse than used, boiled worm cocoons, shaved sheep hairs, or fake animal skin. Cotton was fine; at least that came from a plant, but that was a terrible material to use for anything that would get rained or snowed on.

Deed thought it was neat and couldn’t care less. He also said he didn’t need any clothes, though, which is true. Cure started converting his sire’s mitochondria just after the Running of the Leaves, so Deed no longer felt the cold like she and her wife still did.

Cure had told the mares that, if he had the help of their magic, he could make them shed a layer of skin and fur and transmute that, so there was no need to pay the boutique mare and be questioned about where all the material is coming from again. Plus, with the “molecular level bonding” Cure mentioned, which resulted in a very interesting Illusion lesson, there would be no seams aside from anywhere buttons, zippers, or other such things would be affixed.

Cure insisted the material was nearly impenetrable, too. The demonstration was an eye-opener, for sure. Title never thought she’d see a piece of cloth bend a metal knife, especially without some kind of enchantment placed on it, but the thick piece of silk did just that. A kitchen knife, granted, but that was still impressive. When she asked how tough it would be with enchantments Cure could only shrug.

She remembers his answer well. “No idea, ma. Damned tough, I’ll tell ya that. I have to give credit to Ferric for being the first one to give me an idea there. She made a comment about those chitin plates I was wearing on Nightmare Night, so my plan once I’m fully grown is to put on about twenty kilos of extra mass and eat a couple jars of crystal dust and do just that, but with a combination of this stuff and the crap our bones are made of.

“I’ve already put a thinner layer of that, minus the dust, under all our skin, so if somepony ever comes at you with a knife just don’t let them hit you in the eyes and, aside from cutting some hair or giving you a small scratch, they should be completely unable to harm you.”

Regardless, after doing some shopping she made her way to the bakery and ordered a box of doughnuts. She would only eat a couple, but the others would appreciate them once they got home. Cure must have absolutely breezed through the test because it was only an hour after leaving him when he showed up with a skip in his step.

“You failed horribly,” she immediately teases.

“Oh yeah, I mean the part with the square roots was super challenging. I mean… multiplying a number by itself? Whaaaaat? That’s crazy talk right there. Here,” he says, reaching in his bag and hoofing over his results.

“I dunno, Cure… I think you should have maybe done a little worse, honestly.”

“Hold that thought, ma. You want anything? I’mma go grab me a latte. Huh, kinda weird that this place is named Early’s too. Think they’re related?”

“I doubt it, sweetie. Just some water. Thanks.”

Title looks down at the results.

Math: 100%
Reading: 96%
Writing: 95%
Science: 100%
Social Studies: 98%

She can’t help but sigh at the results. This will get noticed by somepony, for sure. She barely registers when Cure returns carrying a tray with two slices of pecan pie, a coffee, a milk, and a glass of water.

“Have a piece of pie with me, ma. We’re celebrating. Do you still wanna do the massage thing today? We could always come back on Saturday if you want. Maybe dam will wanna come… I kinda doubt dad will, but I’m darned curious what it feels like to be spoiled like that.” Cure slides the tray onto the table, then hops up to snuggle into his mom’s side, nuzzling into her then sliding a piece of pie and his coffee closer and leaving the milk between them to share.

“He may want to, even if it’s just to spend time with us all before his trip,” she reminds him. Cure’s happy expression sours for just a moment before he nods in acceptance. “You took a while getting those pies. Was something wrong?”

“Nope, just had to see a griffon about a deal. If dad doesn’t want to come then maybe we’ll just schedule it for next Saturday and… Ah fudge! No we won’t because I’ll be busy. Crap!” he corrects himself mid-sentence. “Well, I guess we could do it on a weekday. I did cut back my appointments to one a day while he was gone, after all. I wonder how late they’re open.”

“I dunno, honey. We could always go by there and check before we head home. What do you mean by ‘See a griffon about a deal’?”

“I fixed up the owner’s hips and shoulders in payment for the food,” he answers with a smile. “As for the massage parlor, the three of us can make an evening of it if dad doesn’t mind. Just me and the prettiest two mares in the world. We’ll come over here after my appointment, go get all purtied up, then hit the town. Hmm… I wonder if any of the girls would like to come.”

“I bet they would, honey. I looked at your scores… I thought you were going to hold back some.”

“I considered it. Believe me, I really thought about doing so, but here’s the issue… if I don’t do really well I’m probably blowing any chance to get into a highly ranked magic school IF I decide to go that route.”

“Honey, they only let unicorns in those. You’re too well known to pull off any kind of disguise.”

“I know,” he answers with a mischievous look. “If only there were some kind of complex prosthetic device I could invent that, sadly,” he says with a faux pout, “only a biomanipulator could use that would act as a horn.”

“That’s a terrible idea. Everypony will want to know why you’re not making them for pegasi and earth ponies.”

“Oh I can make them for ‘em, but if they can’t use them because of some kind of metaphysical issue or whatever,” he trails off with a shrug.

“Then how would you be able to use it?”

“Because I’m an earth pony with an active special talent, ma. One of a kind, almost, right?”

“I… guess. I could see that panicking the nobles anyhow though. How’d you do so well in social studies, anyhow? Math and science were a given, but…?”

“Social studies is all memorization, so I made a bunch of cheat sheets for important dates and stuff, then scanned them. It was all pure regurgitation of that stuff.”

“That makes sense,” she agrees, digging into her pie. After a few bites she washes it down with some milk and asks, “So, do you think you actually will try to go to a magic school?”

“I think so.” Cure pauses to look at the other patrons, then activates the Sound Bubble in his bag. “It seems like almost a necessity really. I know magic is complex; I get that, but I’m frustrated beyond belief because there’s almost no pattern to it.

“How the hay can spells like Ice Bolt and Fire Bolt be completely different? Why is the part of Conjure Water absolutely nothing like the sequence of Ice Bolt or even the Ice variant of Magic Missile?”

Shaking his head in annoyance, he continues. “All of the books I’ve read, and keep in mind I’ve spent hundreds of hours on this over the last few months, they all seem to be missing one critical thing that fills in the blanks. How do you actually create a new spell?”

“I dunno, babe. I’ve only ever heard how dangerous it is.”

“Exactly! I think the information is being suppressed. There’s no other way these separate authors independently agreed not to spill the beans. There has to be… well, for lack of a better word, a programming environment for spells. It’s the only reason I can think of why crystals are the way they are. They’re so similar to things humans used to store data it’s ridiculous.”

“How so?”

“A crystal takes, basically, a pre-stored set of commands, AKA a program, saves it, then can run it on command as long as it’s supplied power. It even has another program wrapped around it to do the parts a horn or the pony normally do; making the user aware of its contents, allowing the user to change settings, store energy, and actually executing the spell’s program.

“It all works because Harmony lets it, or wants it to. In stories, higher powers that share with lesser beings typically get something out of it too. Faith maybe?” he suggests with a shrug. “I would assume everypony would say thank Harmony then, not thank Celestia. Then again, if she is a lieutenant maybe it feeds up the chain or whatever.”

“That’s an interesting idea. Maybe that’s why there’s not more alicorns. Why bother if one is good enough?”

“Right, especially if it takes power to create another. Of course, I’m betting there’s circumstances where the return on investment makes it worthwhile. The next one to ascend, for example, has a role to fill that, if she wasn’t there, would result in a net loss of whatever thing would be gained by having her there. The shoe fits given what she ends up doing.”

At Title’s raised brow he explains, “She leads the Crystal Empire. Without her there to unify the ponies as a staunch ally to Equestria who knows what would happen. Bad things if Sombra took over, I’m sure.”

“Huh…”

“Yeah, so anyhow, everypony’s omitting how to create spells, which makes no sense. There should be a book that says, ‘Here is exactly how we go from nothing to a basic Light spell, and here’s why it works’. Then move into the next, more complicated thing.”

“That would make sense,” she agrees. “I’m not sure if school will be your only option for learning how to do it, though.”

“It will be if I’m right and they are actively hiding that information.”

Sighing, the pink mare shakes her head. “Dummy. You could probably hire a tutor and bypass the need to go anywhere.”

“Yeah, I guess. It would just be a matter of finding somepony that knows their stuff then,” he agrees, slurping down the last bit of his latte.

Title stares at him like he’s an idiot for a solid minute until he finally looks up at her. “What?”

“Moron. Who was the first pony you deaged?”

“Uhh… Violet Jewel, right? The retired… I’m an idiot.”

“Sometimes, yes, you are. If she’s retired from teaching she may not want to do it anymore, but maybe she just loves to teach too. Write her a letter, dummy, and maybe if she doesn’t want bits in payment you can finish the job you think you half did already.”

“If she can open the door for me I’ll give her anything she wants. Can you find her address, ma?”

“I’m sure I can. Let’s go.”

Sunday, January 11th, 909 AB (3 days later)
Evening

“Stun?”

“Left pectoral.”

“Shield?”

“Right legpit.”

“Teleport?”

Sighing, he answers. “Left legpit. C’mon, son, we’ve gone over this a dozen times.”

“I don’t care. You can’t use the wrong one, dad. What if you shield when you meant to teleport?”

“I’m 'holding' them, son. I can tell which is which. If I use the wrong one then I’ll run. The shield’ll keep me safe.”

“... Yeah, probably. Still. Where’s the fire bolt?”

“Right pectoral. And I know, that’s a killer. I dunno why I even got it.”

“Ranged DPS, dad. What if you need to shoot thru a wall or bring down an enemy’s shield? Stun won’t do it. Blast them with the bolt, chase it with the stun, and keep moving. I’m not sure I would recharge the fire bolt; that’s basically set for maximum damage by default so the nine shots will take almost all of your magic. You could scale it down and get twenty or so though.”

“Uhh… how much damage are we talkin here, son?”

“I don’t know how to answer that. Each will blow clean through a mound of dirt though. Or a limb, or unenchanted armor, or maybe a thinner pony. It’s a pretty good shield breaker and they won’t be expecting ranged attacks from an earth pony. Just make sure you open the lid concealing that and stun before you fire. The others can stay closed.”

“Sun and stars, Cure… he’s going to the capital, not on a dragon hunt.”

Ears perking up, he turns to his mom. “They have those?”

All three parents recoil, looking at him with horrified faces.

“Son… we don’t hunt anycreature, especially intelligent ones.”

“Just askin,” he defends with an innocent look. “Mom’s the one that said it, not me.”

“I was joking,” she sternly insists.

“How would I know?” he asks with a shrug. “I figured if some dragon, ya know… like, ate somepony then we go hunt 'em down,” he says, grinding one hoof into the other.

“Why?” Vines asks.

“I dunno. Mount their head on a pike, use their scales for armor. Maybe send a couple parts to the dragon nation as a warning? I wouldn’t mind trying a dragon steak while we’re at it,” he says, licking his chops.

Vines covers her mouth with a hoof, looking ill. Title just shakes her head and sighs.

“Son… No. We don’t hunt anycreature an’ we definitely don’t turn ‘em inta armor. We especially don’t go puttin heads on pikes, and we damn sure don’t eat them. Stars I never thought I’d hafta tell my colt not ta go around eatin creatures,” he sighs.

“They’re okay eating us. It’s a dragon eat pony eat dragon world, pa, and ain’t no creature eatin this pony, I’ll tell ya that. Besides, I bet mountin their head would work ta scare off the others,” he points out.

“It would work to start a war,” Title insists.

“Hence the need for the armor. Duh?”

Deed shoots his son a warning look. “Colt…”

“Oh come on, I’m joking! Even humans wouldn’t… Well, yeah, some would. But most wouldn’t even kill another intelligent being. That’s actually something they specifically have to train soldiers to do.” At their judging stares he defensively says, “I’m not any more violent than most ponies. Usually.”

“I dunno, sweetie… I don’t think most ponies make sure to pack so many weapons for a trip.”

Pausing for a moment he clarifies, “Okay maybe I am a little more violent, but y’all are damn near complete pacifists, so that’s not saying much. Really, though, do you trust that dad can go a full week without us around to keep an eye on him without getting in some kind of trouble.”

“Hey…”

Vines looks at the pouting stallion. As much as she would really like to disagree with her son, Deed is a little irresponsible at times. “Well…” she wavers under his pitiful stare, then, when she can’t take any more, turns back to her son. “You have a point.”

“I ain’t that bad.”

“With dam and mom keeping you out of trouble and in a backwoods hick town you’re not.”

“It’s nice here,” Vines defends.

“It is,” he quickly agrees. “That doesn’t mean I’m wrong though.”

“He’s right,” Title quickly interjects. “This is pretty rural, babe. I still don’t think our husband needs a squad’s worth of scrolls and crystals, but there’s no harm in him being prepared.”

“Yeah, just be careful you don’t accidentally set any of those off if you find some cute unicorn or something, dad. I dunno how you’d explain that away.”

“Oh my stars!” Title snorts out laughing. “Can you imagine him accidentally teleporting mid coitus! Hahaha! Right into the hotel lobby mid-thrust!”

“Title!” Vines admonishes, “You behave!”

Cure makes a grossed out face. “I would prefer to not imagine that, thank you.”

“Me too, champ. That sounds a bit awkward, especially if she came along for the trip.”

“At least you could blame her then. I think it would be worse to just pop up in there by yourself with the Full Monty on display. Then again, lots of mares aren’t getting the lovin they need. Some may appreciate the offer. My teacher apparently did,” he adds with a snicker while giving his sire a hoofbump.

“I think we’re getting off topic, honey,” Vines growls out, done with this line of discussion.

“She’s right. You have your hidden bits in the mane pouch?”

“Yep. Four one thousand bit coins.”

“And you have the Slow Fall by your navel, right?”

“Yep. I’m ready for war, son. That seminar won’t know what hit ‘em.”

“Good. I’ve made you immune to every class of drug they have at the clinic or I have a venom sample of. If somepony sticks you with a needle it shouldn’t get through your skin and if you disable the dermal nerves like I showed ya a stunner should discharge around the subdermal mesh. If anypony tries to take you, use whatever force you gotta to get to the palace. I know you’ll be safe there, at least.”

“Dunno why you think they’ll know who I am.”

“Because your name’s on my birth certificate and the princess has certainly seen my file by now.”

“Huh… guess that’s true.”

“Yep. Just don’t forget to declare your arsenal if you’re taken to Her. Just do it while you’re bowing or something.”

With a deep sigh and an eye roll, Deed tiredly nods. “Sure thing, champ.”

“Alright,” he says with a sigh, “I think you’re ready to go then.”

“Yep. Just need my bags an’ I’m all set.”

Before Deed stands to leave he’s wrapped up by both mares and rolled on his back, happily accepting the deluge of kisses and nuzzles from his wives. Finally both settle down, sat on each side with their heads on his chest between his forelegs. “I love you both. I’ll see ya in a week, ‘kay?”

“Have fun, babe.”
“Be careful, sweetie. Love you too.”

“Alright ladies. I gotta go. Can’t miss the train, after all.” Reluctantly, the two mares stand and give him room to roll upright. He gives each another kiss and nuzzle, then motions to the door. “C’mon sport, let’s go.” He slips his bags on as Cure gets up and heads to the door.

Catching a few familiar scents, Cure opens it to Lemon and Amethyst; the former just about to knock and the latter carrying both daughters on her back. “Didn’t miss him, did we?” Lemon asks.

“Nope, almost though,” he answers, moving out of the way to let the two in.

The girls hop down and, after a nuzzle with Cure, sedately follow their moms into the room where Lemon and Amethyst are giving Deed some goodbye affection too. The four are staying the night, so the mares will all be in the master bedroom and Cure gets to snuggle with the fillies in his room once he gets home.

After a few more goodbyes Deed finally separates from the group and he and Cure take off for the station.

“Alright son. I’m countin on ya ta watch after the ladies while I’m gone.”

“Don’t worry, pa. I’ll keep them mare chasers away, guaranteed.”

“I knew ya would, champ.”

The two stand in silence for a moment, Cure content to lean on his sire and nuzzle into the stallion’s side. “Hey dad?”

“Yeah?”

“Be careful. I’m not joking. Don’t trust anypony you don’t know. Don’t even completely trust them if they’re a guard, okay? It’s not that hard to get official looking armor or, probably, steal a real set.”

The serious look his son is giving him drives home the point even more than the dozen scrolls and five crystals he’s insisted his sire be equipped with. The colt’s memories are full of one loss after another and, as unlikely as it is he’ll need any of that stuff, it is a little comforting to know that, unless all Tartarus breaks loose, he has everything he needs to come home to his family safe and sound.

Sitting on his haunches, Deed wraps his son in a hug, lifting him and planting a big kiss right between his ears. “Don’t you worry about me, son. Just keep the mares and yerself outta trouble. Got it?”

“Yeah. I love you, dad. I’ll see you in a week. And just so you know, if you’re not on the train coming in from Baltimare next Saturday I’ll be on the next train to Canterlot ready to turn the place upside down and inside out lookin for ya.”

Nodding in understanding, Deed sets the colt down. He is absolutely sure that is not an idle promise, and he’d really rather not see what kinda mess his son could cause in the kind of mood he would no doubt be in upon arrival at the capital.

“Love you too, Cure. I’ll keep that in mind.”

“’kay. You better go. They’re leavin in a minute. See ya, pa.”

Turning to board the train, he gives one last goodbye over his withers. “See ya next Saturday, son.”

Chapter 46: Heartfelt Hellos I

Saturday, January 17th, 909 AB (6 days later)

“He’s getting taller,” Lemon says, looking at the colt laying on his back between his moms. The seven of them had all piled in the master bed last night, filling the thing to capacity.

“He sure is,” Amethyst agrees. “The colt’s gonna end up a hoof taller ‘n his sire at this rate.”

“Aww, but look how adorable he is when he’s asleep,” Title says, nosing at an ear. “Don’t you just wanna eat ‘em up?”

“No!” Vines insists, laying her head across his chest. “He’s all mine!”

“Eat him up! Eat him up!” two voices chorus.

“Hmm… I think I will,” she agrees with a nod. With gentle nibbles, Vines nips up his belly to his chest, then gives his chin a few grooming licks.

Starting to stir, he reaches up and wraps his forelegs around his dam’s head. “Mmm… love you dam.”

“Aww, so cute,” Lemon coos.

“Not wike dat!” Lotus corrects. “Wike dis!” she says, giving Cure a sloppy raspberry on his belly.

“Eugh… filly drool on mah belly. Gross!”

“Good morning, sweetheart,” Vines calls, nuzzling into his chin then sitting up. “It’s time to get up. You’ll have to get ready to go to work soon.”

“Aww…” he complains, pawing at the air. “I want more snuggles,” he whines out.

Cherry, accepting the invitation, yells “Yay! Snuggles!” while jumping from Title’s withers, landing hooves-first directly on his belly. Her back hooves land further back, to the shock and horror of the ladies.

All four mares turn away wincing and brace for the death rattle that, shockingly, never comes.

“Ouch,” he simply says.

“Ouch?” Amethyst asks, peeking with one eye to check the damage. “That’s it? She just did a high dive onto yer stallion and all ya say is ouch?”

Rotating himself and the filly to his right side to face his dam, all four mares look back as he casually explains, “I kinda keep the pain sensors in that area turned way down, thank Harmony. I mean… wouldn’t you? It still didn’t feel great.”

“Good thinking, Cure,” Title agrees with a nod, getting hesitant and uncomfortable agreements all around.

“Cherry, sweetie,” Lemon explains, “you can’t hit colts between their legs like that. You can really hurt them bad.”

“I… hurt big brother?” she asks, eyes immediately turning watery and lip quivering.

Sitting up to wrap the filly in his forelegs, he pulls her against his chest and gives her a nuzzle, “I’m okay, Cherry. Big brother Cure is a lot tougher than other colts. Just don’t do that again, okay?”

The filly quickly nods into his chest while Lotus climbs on Cure’s left side and nuzzles into his neck.

“Mmm… filly snuggles. No work today, we’re closed.”

Rolling her eyes, Amethyst gets off the bed first, the other mares quickly following. Title, being the slowest moving with her swollen belly, puts a hoof on Cure’s left haunch and pokes him a couple times. “C’mon, Cure. You gotta get ready. You can’t be late. It’s a big day and you volunteered to help out.”

Sighing, he agrees with a nod. “Fiiine. I gotta get up, Cherry, Lotus,” he says, “how about you go help our moms with breakfast while I get cleaned up?”

“Okay!” they call out, running out of the room.

Reluctantly, Cure sits up and gives his mom a kiss on her cheek before climbing off the bed and going to the restroom to start getting ready. He had, as usual, showered the night before, so once he gets his mane in order and wipes off the occasional patch of dam or filly saliva, he grabs his bags and heads downstairs to join everypony else.

Knowing that Cure would be in for an unusually tough day, Vines had whipped up a very special breakfast for him.

“French toast?! Oh dam,” he cries, rearing up and wrapping her in a hug. “Have I told you how much I love you?”

Wrapping her free foreleg around him, she holds him close while nodding. “You have, baby, but I can never hear it too many times.”

“More than all the caramels and coffee in the world, that’s how much,” he insists, nuzzling his face into her chest.

“Blerg! Sweetness overload,” Lemon calls from the table, melodramatically falling over. Cherry rushes over to render aid.

“I love you too, sweetie, but you better go eat. You have a very long day ahead of you.”

“Yep. I just wish I could be at the station when dad gets home,” he complains while hopping on his chair. Cutting a bite out of his toast he pops it in his mouth and moans in ecstasy, making Vines glow in happiness while getting everypony else’s ready.

At Lotus’ curious look he cuts a small bite for her and, sure enough, if it’s good enough for big bwuther then it’s good enough for her too. All four mares are having to brace themselves on furniture to avoid falling over like Lemon had as they watch him take turns stuffing his face, then giving a bite each to the girls; all three moaning and carrying on in utter bliss.

Before long the fillies have been properly gorged and Cure’s tummy can’t hold another bite. Hopping down, Cure gives his dam, mom, then Amethyst and Lemon each a hug and goodbye nuzzle.

“I’ll be by with some treats for everypony at noon and again around four, Cure. Good luck!” Lemon yells as he slides on his bags, waves, and heads out the door. At a quick canter, Cure makes his way downtown and towards Town Hall, passing a few soon-to-be dams and their spouses following the signs for the birthing station check-ins.

The estimated number of mares due this season in Golden Hills is a little over a hundred and fifty. The first few had trickled in over the last two days, so today should be busy. When he realized the help he could provide to mares; particularly high risk pregnancies, he’d absolutely insisted he be present as much as possible for the next few days.

The hospital administration had debated bringing him into Baltimare, but ultimately decided to give him a test run in the smaller town for now, just as they continue to do with his apprenticeship on typical weekends without a “special case” for him to see.

Fortunately for the country, estrus seasons, and therefore birthing times, are not completely lined up all over. For whatever reason the capital tends to get hit first, then the effect travels outward from there, hitting further communities as much as three weeks later.

Being on the east coast and about the same latitude, Baltimare is about a week behind Canterlot, a few days before Fillydelphia to the north, and about a week ahead of Manehattan and Bostrot further up the coast. New Horseleans is to the south and gets hit about the same time as Manehattan does.

Cloudsdale strategically drifts northeast so it gets its estrus seasons about three days after Canterlot, then during the birthing seasons moves just beside the capital so that births are staggered and resources can be pooled. Afterwards it drifts west to provide support for New Pegasus, Seaddle, San Franciscolt, Tall Tale, and Vanhoover which are the last to get hit.

From mid-late January to mid February, then to a smaller degree in June and July, it’s essentially all hooves on deck for health professionals. The Family Planning bureau and the nationwide network of Regional Health Authorities coordinate teams of doctors, nurses, certified nurse-midwives (CNMs), and various birthing specialists to ensure that peak birthing seasons are properly staffed and prepared for the volume.

Cure, getting close to the initial check-in stations, pauses to get his Staff Identification out of his pack and toss it around his neck. He’s still stopped at each point by Organization Teams, largely made up of local volunteers and normal Town Hall staffers, but after a quick glance at his ID they wave him through.

Several of the Town Guard are out as well, though only a few are in armor. Cure passes a few that seem to be patrolling in pairs and on the lookout for dams that need assistance getting to Town Hall.

Passing the tents and check-in stations outside of the building, Cure heads inside to check in with Nurse Gentle at Birthing Area 3. The entire lobby area of the ground floor has been emptied out and there’s eight birthing areas ready to receive soon-to-be dams.

Areas One, Three, Five, and Seven are on the left. Two, Four, Six, and Eight are on the right; each labeled with large black-on-white numbers on every side. Between Three and Five and between Four and Six are additional Staff Stations where newborns are cleaned up after they are born and Emergency Teams are on standby.

Each birthing area has three solid walls of dark blue privacy screen with an opening facing the central corridor and a retractable curtain to shut that. In addition to the central corridor there’s a ring around the entirety of the area accessible via walkways on either side of the Staff Stations.

On his way to his area Cure spots Corporal Ricochet and Private Rushing Charge in armor. From the few seconds he sees them they appear to be patrolling around the outside of the stations to provide security. Sgt. Bulwark is also in armor, standing by himself near the entrance to the main corridor. He gives a greeting nod to Cure, who returns it, as he passes by.

Organization Team members have taken over the area usually used for reception and Cure can see a steady flow of ponies coming and going from there, including a number of fliers zipping in to say a sentence or two, then taking off again.

The entire wing near the main entrance that normally makes up the Family Planning and Public Assistance agencies has been reworked and turned into a waiting area for dams that are at the early stages of labor.

As Cure approaches Area 3 he sees that everypony in the birthing areas is wearing full coverings. A short sleeved vest or wrap, of a sort, goes over their withers and wraps around their barrels at the forelegs with a zipper in the middle.

The vest is color coded by position and emblazoned with names, credentials, team designations, and cutie marks on both sides so that everypony can be easily identified at a glance.

“Hey Nurse Gentle. How’s it been so far?”

“Not bad yet, Cure dear, but I’m sure you passed a few new dams on the way in. Are you sure you are ready for this?”

“Yes ma’am. Ready to go!”

“Great! The Foal Services offices are behind Area Seven. Go check in with the staff there, get changed, and get back here,” she says as she points in a direction behind and to the left of the receptionist desks. “They should have outfits in your size waiting for you.”

“Custom ordered? Nice!”

“We had to. They don’t usually have them in your size. Go get ready and don’t forget to put on your identification,” she tells him, tapping at her vest.

Cure quickly makes his way to the Foal Services area and, upon checking in with a mare there, is hoofed a pack with his mark on it and pointed towards an office to get dressed. Why he doesn’t just throw it on right there, he doesn’t ask, but ponies are weird about putting clothes on around others, so whatever.

Once dressed and fitted with his vest, Cure hurries back to Area Three. “I’m all set, Nurse Gentle!”

“Great! Hit a cleaning crystal real quick,” she says, waving at an enchanted crystal set into a pedestal sitting on a medical cart off to the side. Presumably the purpose of the pedestal is to make it more difficult for the crystal to disappear or get lost because Cure can’t think of any other reason for it aside from identifying the gem as enchanted with Cleaning, as the label on it indicates.

After activating the crystal and ensuring he and his outfit are cleaned Cure turns back to Nurse Gentle just as two new ponies walk in the Area.

Nurse Gentle steps in to provide introductions. “Cure Wave, meet Lilac Dream, CNM, and Nurse Cloudy Swell. Lilac, Cloudy, meet Cure Wave. Cure’s special talent is healing and diagnosis. Lilac is our birthing specialist and Cloudy is her assistant. They’re both here from the capital to lend a hoof.”

Cure greets the pair. Lilac is a unicorn mare with a lighter purple coat and pink mane. Cloudy is a pegasus stallion with a light brown coat and a dull yellow mane.

“Just so we’re all clear,” Nurse Gentle continues, “Lilac calls the shots here, we’re her support, so if it gets hectic just make sure you listen to her first, okay? And Cure? It’s just Gentle today. We may not have time for titles soon.”

“Before we get our first one of the day,” Lilac starts, “can you please give me a quick idea of what you are capable of? I need to know what I’m working with here.”

“Yes ma’am. I’m registered as a biomanipulator. I can basically do whatever you need done as long as I have enough magic.”

Lilac and Cloudy just stare wide-eyed at the colt.

“I try to keep my capabilities kind of on the down-low, so please respect that as much as can be done, given the situation. I’m being upfront with you because this really isn’t the time to hold back. As long as I can keep myself from zeroing out on magic this should go very smoothly.”

“Can you… induce labor?” Lilac asks.

“I’m sure I can. Just walk me through this once and I should be set.”

The pair quickly turn to each other and share a look, Lilac ordering him, “Go get one!” as he says, “I should go get one!” After they both pause a second she gives the “what are you waiting for?” look and he zips off.

“I appreciate you being honest with me, son. I won’t tell anypony that doesn’t need to know,” Lilac says. She moves over to the open curtain and looks down the corridor, then after a moment moves out of the way and says, “Get ready, here’s the first one now.”

Cloudy escorts a cream colored earth pony and, presumably, her trailing husband and wife into the sectioned off area. Nurse Gentle greets everypony and has the mare walk around the table to help her get in position. As she helps the mare get situated, Cloudy stands on the mare’s right side between Cure and the pair.

Unlike humans, ponies don’t give birth on their backs. Instead the table lets them lay on their barrel, supporting them at the chest with spots for their hooves. It’s turned so the dam is facing diagonally towards the entrance so that if anypony comes in afterwards they don’t walk face-first into a very awkward situation.

Despite the upper barrel and chest support most ponies don’t lay down at all, so the majority of weight will be on their hooves and the supports there. The four are made of thick, heavy metal so that, even if an earth pony accidentally pushes hard or moves funny, they won’t have any way of damaging anything.

The table is fully adjustable and can raise the mare up slightly higher than when she’s standing. This lets the dam squat down to push the foal out naturally while giving the birthing team room to work and, basically, catch it as it is born. The hoof stirrups can also be adjusted wider or narrower to accommodate anypony from small pegasi to large earth ponies.

The whole thing looks more or less the same as a modified, slightly U-shaped massage table as far as Cure can tell, just with adjustable height for the front and back hooves so that the mare can be made reasonably comfortable and the “catching” ponies have room to work.

Fortunately ponies don’t have the issues that humans frequently do, so there’s no danger of an accidental bowel movement or urination when birthing occurs.

Standing by and waiting for orders, Cure watches as Nurse Gentle makes sure the mare is comfortable and Cloudy keeps the accompanying ponies out of the way of he and Lilac.

“Cure,” Lilac calls as she gets in position, “Hoof on. Dilation?” she asks, horn lit.

Trotting over, he places a hoof on the dam’s side between Lilac and Cloudy. The mare turns her head and gives him a confused look, but Nurse Gentle is talking to her and explaining what’s going on, getting her to turn back the other direction. “Three centimeters.”

“Yep. She’s not ready and may not be for a while. Can you help move it along? Is that something you can do?”

“I should be able to. Tell me how.”

“Start by dilating the cervix further. Slowly. We want twelve and a half centimeters.”

“How long should I take to get her there?”

“We’ll go kinda quick as a test. It won’t hurt the foal. Two per minute. Can you control her contractions?”

“Yep.”

“Pause them for now.”

“Okay.”

As Cure works Lilac watches intently, horn lit the whole time. The mare is confused about what’s going on. “I don’t understand, I don’t feel any contractions anymore. I was sure I was ready!”

“Oh don’t worry about that, honey,” Nurse Gentle explains. “They’re helping you with those. You’ll be out of here with your foal in no time.”

After a few minutes Cure speaks up. “Coming up on twelve and a half in a few seconds.”

“Perfect. There we go. Okay, contractions.”

“Umm, should I just ease it out?”

Lilac leans to the right to look at Cure with a raised brow. “You can just make the foal slide out?”

“Yeah…”

“Uhh okay. I’m ready to catch it.”

“Her.”

“Right.”

“Starting,” he announces, then restores just a little feeling so the mare is aware of what’s happening. “She’s ready to push, Gentle,” he calls out.

“Start pushing, dearie, you’re about to be a new dam!”

“This feels weird, but okay…”

As the foal approaches the opening Cure turns towards Lilac, “She’s coming in three... two... one.”

“I’ve got her!” she shouts, which must be a sign for Cloudy to zip out of the Area. Lilac is doing something Cure can’t see around the dam; he assumes taking care of the umbilical cord. Lilac works quietly for a few seconds, then Cure hears the cry of a newborn and a group of assistants precede Cloudy back in, rushing over to help clean the foal up and take over.

“Congratulations, honey!” Nurse Gentle tells the dam. “You have a beautiful little filly! They’re getting her cleaned up for you right now. You’re not quite done yet, though, so stay put for a moment. We need to get the placenta.”

“Okay… wow I figured this would be a little harder!”

“Not this time, honey. It varies, so don’t expect it to always be this easy.”

“Okay Cure,” Lilac says, “we need the afterbirth.”

“Okay, here it comes in three... two... one.”

“Sweet Celestia, colt…” Lilac sighs, shaking her head.

“Is that it?” the dam asks. “Can I get down now? Where’s my foal?”

“She’s getting cleaned up, honey.” Nurse Gentle leans down in front of the mare’s chest to give Cure a questioning look.

“She’s good to go,” he tells Lilac. “All patched up and ready to feed too,” Cure explains, letting go of her side and moving away. After she moves out of the way, Lilac gives the “All Clear” call and Nurse Gentle lowers the table, helps the dam down and escorts her and her family away to help her clean up and show her to her foal.

Lilac tells the pair she’ll be right back then heads out the curtain, presumably to the Staff Station where they’re working on the foal.

Cloudy, done with his part, walks over and sits next to Cure. The two sit in silence waiting for Lilac and Gentle to return.

After about five minutes Lilac comes back and sits on her haunches. “That was the craziest fff… freaking thing I’ve ever seen.”

“Huh,” Cure mutters, “I thought it went really well.”

Cloudy and Lilac share a look and just shake their heads sighing.

“Son,” Cloudy starts, “that was the very definition of a perfect birth. How much of your magic did you use?”

“A quarter. I’ll need about ten minutes to get back to full. My regeneration is high but my total capacity isn’t. I had a lot of sugar for breakfast though, so I should be good for a while.”

“So you can do that roughly every twenty minutes?” Lilac asks.

“Yeah. Most was from giving her a healing push at the end. I think I overdid it. She’s fully healed now. Like… fully, fully healed.”

“Okay,” she says nodding, “From now on don’t do that. Getting the foal out and breathing is priority number one. As long as something’s not seriously wrong we can worry about the dam later. Save your magic for emergencies or if asked to do something. I need to go talk to the Lead Organization Team. You’re wasted on healthy births. We need you on breeches and shit like that.”

“Okay… should I just wait here?”

“Please. Stay put, I’ll be back in a few.”

Stormy sits next to Cure and rests a hoof on his withers, patting him and asking, “You’re sure you are okay, colt? I know this can be stressful and you’re awfully young to be here. If this is too difficult or anything just speak up, okay?”

“Nope. I’m completely okay. I’ve been doing cosmetic work on ponies for a couple months now, so I’ve kinda seen everything there is to see already. My mom’s due any day now too, so I’ve been able to see in utero foal development from month five on.”

“Huh… month five?”

“Got my mark in September.”

“Gotcha,” he nods in understanding.

“My dam is due in June with twins too. A colt and a filly.”

“Wow, colt… family’s growing huh?”

“Yep… my parents had me young. You know how that is,” he says with a shrug. “Well, the income situation is a lot better now, so… yeah.”

“Good! Congrats, Cure. I’m happy for your folks.”

“Thanks!”

Nurse Gentle rejoins the pair a moment later, walking behind Cure and hugging him to her belly. “You did so well, Cure dear, I’m so proud of you! Good job!”

Cure happily leans back into the hug. If pretty mares wanna snuggle him into warm tummies, gown covered or not, then it’s his Harmony given duty to oblige them.

Lilac returns a moment later with an update. “Alright, Cure and Nurse Gentle, you are no longer assigned to Area 3. We’re trading you two to Emergency Response Team 2 between Four and Six under Dr. Crystal Dawn. She’s one of the lead obstetricians at the Canterlot University Medical Center, so listen to what she says.”

“Yes, ma’am.”

“She may come across gruff, but don’t let it upset ya if she’s barking orders, okay? There’s not always time to be polite on that team. Good luck, you two. It was a pleasure meeting you, brief as it was.”

After a quick goodbye to the pair, Cure fetches his bags and follows Nurse Gentle to report in Staff Station 2 where the emergency team is stationed. It’s just across the central corridor from their current Area.

Dr. Crystal Dawn, according to the identification on her vest, approaches the pair and introduces her assistant. She and Nurse Ruby Star are both unicorn mares, though aside from their colors they are too covered up to see much. Dr. Crystal has a cream colored coat with a blonde mane while Ruby Star lives up to her namesake with a bright red coat and yellow mane.

“Nurse Gentle Heart and Cure Wave, right?” she asks, getting nods and greetings in return. “I’m Doctor Crystal Dawn and this is my assistant, Nurse Ruby Star. I understand Cure’s special talent is biomanipulation, is that correct?”

“Yes ma’am,” he says with a nod.

“Excellent, and the birthing specialist’s report says you were able to induce a mare in stage one within a few minutes, is that right?”

“Yep. She went from three centimeters dilation to successful birth in about six minutes, then Lilac had me help her push out the placenta a moment later once they took the filly to get cleaned up. I patched up the mare while waiting for Lilac to give the all-clear.”

“Alright, I’m trusting that the organization team knows what they’re doing. I expect you both to do what I ask, when I ask, and nothing else under any circumstances. Are you going to be okay with that?”

“Sure. Okay, I can do that,” Cure agrees with a little hesitation.
“Yes, doctor.”

“Great! Ideally we’ll have a long, boring day with little to do, but if somepony has something going horribly wrong or just needs extra hooves we take turns with ER Team 1. It’s been going well so far, but we’re just getting started. For now, rest and relax, but pay attention for a runner because if they’re coming to us we need to move ASAP.”

Pointing a hoof behind the Staff Section they’re in she adds, “There’s some refreshments in an office over there if you need anything.

Nurse Gentle and Cure nod in understanding and, while Dr. Crystal makes her way to Team 1’s area, Ruby joins the pair sitting on their haunches waiting for something to do.

“So,” she starts, “biomanipulation, huh? Dr. Crystal actually has some ability in that area, too. I assume, since you’re here and all, you must do some work with the local clinic?”

“Yep. That’s where I met Nurse Gentle,” Cure explains, giving the kind mare a friendly nuzzle and getting a fond smile back. “I’m doing an apprenticeship there for a while and, if all goes well, they may transfer my assignment to Baltimare instead.”

“Cure’s been an absolute blessing since he joined us,” Nurse Gentle gushes as she nuzzles the top of his head. “He’s so wonderful with little foals. I think with him being so close in age they look at him like a big brother instead of being nervous like they would be with an adult.”

“I imagine that helps a lot. Do you work there often?”

“I volunteer a couple hours every week on Saturday mornings. I’m still in school, so between that and my business I stay busy during the week.”

“Business?”

“I do cosmetic work on the side. I would say I do the volunteering on the side, but I think I actually work more in one day at the clinic than I do in five or six days at my business.”

“Really? I would expect there to be a pretty big market for that. Not a lot of doctors do cosmetic work, after all.”

“Oh, there’s plenty of business. I just don’t have enough magic to work a full shift. I usually see two or three ponies per day after school, but each appointment is pretty quick except for the bigger jobs like the de-aging stuff.”

“De… aging?”

“Mhmm. It’s a comprehensive makeover package. I’ve been getting more and more of those since word has spread. It’s a full-body makeover, basically, but I also get rid of arthritis and other things you would associate with aging. Wrinkles, coat fading, dental, vision, etcetera. I’ve had more than a couple ponies come in looking fifty and leave looking twenty five.”

“Interesting… I don’t suppose you have any appointment slots open soon, do you?”

“I’m usually booked out a month or so, but if you’re interested I can make ya a deal. I’ve done something similar with several of my coworkers at the clinic during slow shifts.”

“I’m listening.”

“Well we’re sitting here, right? Doing nothing?”

“Yeah.”

“I have a belly full of sugar, so what I could do is slowly give you the same treatment I give everypony else, just gradually so I stay near full on magic.”

“How much?”

“Well I haven’t really tapped into the Canterlot market at all, so I was thinkin if you’re happy with the results and somepony asks why ya look different you could maybe mention that I take appointment requests by mail. So maybe if they’re comin this way for a vacation and can stop in while they’re in town.”

“Really? That’s it? Just some referrals?”

“Well I’m not doin anything else right now and who knows when you’ll be back, so sure. Why not? I can afford to give away a free treatment if it lands me two or three paid ones. The business address is on the form I would give ya, so you’ll have that to share.”

“And you’ve got the magic for it?”

“I can do it gradually over the next few hours. My regeneration speed is good, it’s just my overall capacity that’s low. I am an eight year old earth pony, after all.”

“I’m definitely interested,” she says, looking around. “This isn’t a very good spot for it, though.”

“Yeah, maybe when we go to get refreshments I can use my Illusion crystal to give you a demonstration. I always keep a few of my forms on me, so when we take a break I’ll show ya what I can do, you fill out the form, and then when we have downtime I’ll get ya taken care of.”

“That sounds great, colt. Do a good job and I’ll definitely send a few ponies your way. Stars, I may just drag my husband out to see you before too long.”

“Oh I guarantee you’ll be happy with the results.”

“He’s right, dear. Cure’s work is absolutely amazing. I haven’t taken him up yet, but I’m sure you’ve noticed more than a few pegasi in particular with interesting wing designs flying around.”

“Heads up everypony!” Dr. Crystal yells, rushing back into the area. “Area Six has asked for assistance with a nuchal cord. The dam is dilated to ten, so we’re going to be on standby in case anything goes wrong.”

As the group gets moving Cure looks to Nurse Gentle and asks, “Uhh… what’s a nuchal cord? I don’t recognize the term. Somethin with the umbilical cord, right?”

“Mmhmm. It means the umbilical cord is wrapped around the foal’s neck,” she answers, trotting beside him over to Area Six’s entrance. “Usually it’s not a problem, but it can be if it gets pulled tight.”

“Can’t they just turn the foal around and kinda unwind it?”

As they approach the outside of the Area the three stand behind Dr. Crystal who is peeking in the flap.

“No, honey, they can’t do that,” Nurse Gentle explains.

“Uhh… I think I can.”

“You can?”

“I don’t know why I couldn’t. It shouldn’t be a problem at all,” he explains.

Nurse Gentle shouts out, “Dr. Crystal! Cure thinks he can unwind it!”

Dr. Crystal pulls her head out of the flap and looks at the pair. “You sure, colt?”

“I mean… I’ve never had a reason to try before, but I’m very confident I can. This is the first birthing season since I got my mark.”

Weighing the situation in her mind, she nods and steps in the flap to speak to the birth team leader inside. After about fifteen seconds she pops her head back out and waves the team in. The dam-to-be is a dark brown earth pony and she’s more than a little sweaty. Her husband is holding a forehoof and a nurse is wiping her brow and speaking to them both in soft tones.

The doctor behind her is a black unicorn stallion with his horn lit and there’s an earth pony assistant with some kind of x-ray or ultrasound device giving him an image of the newborn that, to Cure, is horribly low resolution.

Dr. Crystal waves for Cure to join her and the black unicorn near the back of the dam. “Go ahead, Cure. See if you can get her unwound,” she tells him.

Laying a hoof on the mare, Cure activates his talent, and rather than turning the foal, who is properly lined up, directly moves the cord to unwind it from the filly’s neck.

“All set, Dr. Crystal. Do you want me to help with anything else?”

“She’s ready to go. Can you help her push the foal out?” the other doctor asks. Cure looks to Dr. Crystal for approval and, once she gives a nod, he numbs the mare’s pain receptors and helps the filly get started moving. The dam lets out a sigh of relief and, like before, Cure provides a countdown so the doctor can focus on receiving the foal.

“Okay, here she comes in three… two… one.”

“Perfect!” he shouts, then gets to work on the foal. Cure sees Nurse Gentle go out to alert the assistants to another birth. Once again, a few seconds later he hears the cry of a newborn foal just as the assistants all pile in to take over.

“Let me know when you’re ready for the placenta.”

The black unicorn gives him a nod and says, “We’re ready now, colt. Thanks for the assist.”

“Sure thing, doc. Here it comes. Dr. Crystal, she has a little bleeding… should I use magic to stop it or let it heal on its own?”

“What are you at right now?” she asks.

“Almost full. That didn’t take much. She was ready to go.”

“Go ahead then. Once you’re done let’s head back.”

“Yes ma’am,” he cheerily calls. Once done he does what’s asked he rejoins the others and they all funnel out back towards their station.

After arriving Nurse Gentle once again wraps around a sitting Cure and snuggles him against her belly.

“Nice work, Cure,” Dr. Crystal compliments. “I’m guessing stuff like that is pretty easy for you?”

“Yep. It’s probably about as hard for you to lift something with levitation as it is for me to do stuff like that. My talent kinda throws out all the rules, ya know? This gown, for example?” he says, pinching a piece to hold it off his chest and getting attentive nods. “It’s pointless. I’m literally the most germ-free anything in this place.”

“You mean you’re completely sterile?”

“Uhh, well yes I suppose, but only cause I haven’t gone through puberty yet.”

Both nurses snort out a laugh and Dr. Crystal rolls her eyes. “You know what I mean.”

“Yes. I’m completely clean of biological contaminants. The gown itself doesn’t really do anything, but standard procedure and all, so…” he trails off with a shrug.

“Hey Cure, is that you?” he hears called from his right.

Looking over he yells back, “Hey Rico, Rush. How’s it goin?” as he approaches the two.

“I thought that was you,” Corporal Ricochet says as she walks over. Rushing Charge waves from beside her. “Volunteering with the births, huh? Ya hangin in there alright?”

“Yep. Got two so far. They put me on the emergency team cause of my talent.”

“Nice work little dude!” she cheers and reaches out for a hoof bump.

Being a bro and all, he doesn’t leave her hangin, so he reaches up and taps it. “Thanks, Rico. You hafta kick anypony’s plot yet or do you just have Rush flex at ‘em and break their will that way?”

“HA! That would do the trick, huh Rush?”

“Yep, but sarge yells at me every time I do that,” she says, casually flexing her chest, “keeps complainin ‘bout all’a the shattered armor and all.”

“You better quit it!” he yells pointing an angry hoof at the big earth pony. “My taxes are payin for that, private! I ain’t workin my tail off just to buy ya another set!”

“I’ll keep that in mind,” she nods with a smile. “Seriously though, we got fitted for replacements. This stuff’s startin ta chafe,” she says, adjusting her chest piece a bit.

“Damn, Rush, come over here.” Pausing, he turns, looks at Dr. Crystal, and asks, “Oh, hey, Doc? Do you mind if I help her out real quick?”

“Uhh…” not really having any reason to say no, the doctor nods. “Sure, that’s fine.”

Cure trots over and grabs a hoof from Rush, then helps heal any skin irritation and toughens the skin anywhere that’s a problem. “Alright, I healed and toughened up the skin where you had irritation, but that’s a temp fix,” he explains letting go. “When’s the new gear coming?”

“Supposed to be here on Wednesday.”

“Cool. Just catch me when I’m leaving school, at the candy shop, or wherever if you need me, Rush. You know I’ll never say no to y’all.”

“Thanks, Cure. We best get back to patrolling. Good luck, colt.” Rush looks over to Dr. Crystal and calls out, “Thanks, doc!”

Rico calls out a final “Later dude!” as the pair walk off.

“You know,” Ruby says, “I’ve kind of noticed that several of the local guards are extremely fit.”

“I go to the gym every week with them on Friday and help them exercise.”

“You stay busy, don’t you?”

“Kinda. But I only actually work about six to eight hours per week. Maybe a little more if, again, I have really involved cosmetic procedures scheduled. The de-aging one, for example, I have to do over two quick sessions or go slow and recharge during. Good thing my business is above a candy shop.”

“De-aging?” Dr. Crystal asks, eyebrows hiked.

“Yeah, he said he’s going to hook me up for referrals.”

“Referrals? From Canterlot? What exactly are you doing?”

“How about next break we get I show ya both?”

“We’re back!” Lemon shouts, standing aside for Cure to drag himself in the door, then pushing it shut.

“Damn, son… Did we win the war at least?”

“Hey pa, welcome home!” he calls, trotting over and wrapping around his neck in a hug. With a quick scan he confirms it is indeed his sire and gets an amused look back. “Had to be sure,” he says, releasing the stallion and collapsing into his sire’s forelegs, tail wagging like a happy puppy. Amethyst and Vines are in the kitchen and the girls are using Deed’s back as a jungle gym.

Title is on a separate cushion reading, so Lemon goes over and flops next to her.

Deed scoots his son against his chest and rests his neck across his back.

“So, pa, any problems at all?”

“Nothin yer ‘ol pa couldn’t deal with, champ. I did save Canterlot from an invasion while I was there, but that’s all.”

“Oh yeah?”

“Yep, got a thank you smooch from princess ‘n everythin. I had ta let ‘er down gently, ya know, when she said she can’t move out here ta Golden Hills ta join in.”

“Poor thing. Well I hope you at least pounded the dust outta that rug before you left.”

Both mares snort out a laugh, though Lemon looks a little shocked at Cure’s crude humor. He reminds himself that he really needs to either have a talk with the mares or pay closer attention to his filter at home. Mental exhaustion let that one slip out.

“Well, pa, I’m glad you’re home safe and sound. I woulda hated to hafta come find ya. I just don’t think that would have won me a lot of favors somehow.”

“Me too, champ. How’d the birthins go?”

“Great! I delivered sixteen myself. Well, I helped the dams, I guess, if ya wanna be technical. I also had to help a few foals with breathing problems, some spinal issues, and several with issues I’m not even sure about.”

“What?” Title asks, “What’s that mean?”

“I’m not sure. They eventually realized I’m really good at diagnosing basically everything so they had me scan every foal after about an hour into my shift. We delivered sixty two foals in eight hours and I scanned fifty five of them. Only one set of twins.

“I can only assume those ones I couldn’t diagnose had some kind of developmental issue brewing or genetic issue or maybe just a vitamin deficiency. I explained that my talent indicated a problem I can’t identify, so after they ran scans and drew blood they had me heal them and redrew again.”

“Huh. Well as long as you had a doctor’s okay I guess that’s fine then.”

“Yep, that’s my thought too. It wasn’t glorious or exciting but I did my job, so whatever.”

“Good call, son. Ain’t nothin wrong with that.” After a few seconds’ pause he adds, “Usually.”

Vines yells “Dinner’s ready!” from the kitchen, so Cure runs to do his after work routine before joining everypony at the table. Just as he’s about to hop up on his chair he hears a knock at the door. The scent is one he picked up at town hall earlier, so with the assumption that it’s an EMT there to pull him away for a birthing emergency, he trots over to open it up.

What he finds when he opens the door is a pair of thighs. They’re lovely thighs, granted, but not a pair he had expected to find after a long day of work. Following the thighs upwards he finds, unsurprisingly, the remainder of the white mare, smiling beautifully down at him. Way, way down at him.

It’s difficult to tell exactly how tall she is from just above knee level, but while she probably isn’t quite six feet (1.8 meters) at the withers she has to be pretty close. Of course, her long neck and ridiculously tall horn nearly double that, so from hoof to horn tip when standing upright she’s just about, if not more than, four times his height.

While certainly thicker than a unicorn she doesn’t have the “draft horse” build that Cure and Deed have. She’s much more like an enlarged Vines or Title, who are more bulky than a unicorn or pegasus mare but still retain their slimmer, feminine shape. Her chest and shoulders appear quite muscular, but that’s likely owing to her large wings. Wings which are, as best he can tell, proportionally larger than a pegasus’ would be.

There are, of course, female earth ponies that are every bit as large as males; Private Rushing Charge, for example, seems to have little difficulty keeping up with Sgt. Bulwark, but that doesn’t seem to be the case with the princess.

Cure wonders if, maybe, she’s just not built thicker because her focus was more on magic during her formative years and, regardless of how much she could strengthen now, her overall frame is more or less set in stone. He knows that, at least with humans, teens that start lifting during early puberty, even if they’re not doing very heavy weights, will end up broader and thicker than ones that wait until they’re fully grown.

That seems pretty likely given those years, for her, would have been at least a thousand, maybe several thousand, years ago and it’s unlikely that gyms like Rusty Barbell’s would have been around for her to get swole at. Not to mention the possibility that, depending on how things were, she may not have always had ready access to food while growing up.

Cure, caught wholly unprepared to find Princess Celestia outside his door, has only the most brilliantly insightful utterance escape him. “Woah…”

“Good evening, my little pony. How are you today?” she asks in a soft voice.

“Oh! Good!” he responds, finally getting some of his wits about him. Looking away with a blush he mumbles, “Sorry, your highness… that must get frustrating.”

Tilting her head to the side slightly she confusedly asks, “Frustrating? What do you mean?”

Looking back up at the radiant mare he explains, “Well… you’re very pretty, so I bet every dude, and most mares, probably just stare in shock at ya for a second when ya first meet ‘em. I imagine after the first few thousand times it gets a bit old.”

Blindsided by the genuine compliment, especially because it’s coming from a foal, the princess can’t help but giggle. “I… it’s okay. Oh my,” she pauses, fanning herself with a wing, “not many catch me off unprepared like that!” she finishes with a laugh.

“Cure? Who’s at the door?!” he hears his mom yell behind him.

Glancing back over his withers it dawns on him that he’s not even invited the princess inside yet. “Umm… you hungry?” he asks as he turns back, getting another giggle from her. As it registers with him what he said he can’t help but wince.

“I wouldn’t want to impose…” she says with a teasing lilt.

“I mean… We just sat down for dinner and I’m sure we have enough for one more. Come on in,” he says, stepping back in the house and holding the door wide open. “Hey everypony, the princess is here,” he calls towards the kitchen.

“HA! Good one, champ!” he hears shouted back from the table. “Guess she liked yer pa’s smooch better’n I thought.”

Thank all that is holy he didn’t ask if it’s Princess Burnfoal or Murdernight. I probably have Lemon and Amy’s presence to thank for that.

After nearly KO’ing himself with a facehoof, Cure looks up at the snickering mare. “He just came back from a seminar in Canterlot. When I asked how it went he made a joke about stoppin an invasion and saving the city, thus earning your favor,” he quickly explains, getting an understanding “Ah” back. “If you play along I bet you’ll still get a chuckle over it in a hundred years,” he adds in a low voice. After only a second of thought she broadly smiles and nods excitedly as she steps into the house.

She can’t even come close to standing fully upright or her horn would go straight through the ceiling, but at least she can raise her head a little bit if she tucks her chin some. And just as Cure is considering this, her horn glows gold for an instant, and in her place is a slightly smaller, shorter-horned version of herself that can now stand mostly upright. She’s still a couple hooves taller than Deed, so she could hit the ceiling with little effort, but at least she’s able to stand comfortably.

Oh yeah, Reduce / Enlarge. I remember that from the library book. Damn I wish I had an enlarge scroll on me. I could pop that then challenge her to a dance off or somethin.

The surprise must have shown on his face because she glances his direction and shoots him a wink and a smile before stepping the rest of the way in.

As she passes by, Cure takes a quick glance outside and, strangely, can’t see a single guard anywhere. If it weren’t for his heat sensors showing that there is, indeed, a very large, warmer than normal heat source in front of him he’d almost think it’s Chrysalis here to abduct his family or something, but either the princess is truly here and standing right in front of him or somepony is really pulling out the stops on their prank.

The scent is definitely one he caught occasionally at Town Hall, so she must have been watching him or there is another reason for her presence. Unlikely given she’s here now. She doesn’t smell like dirt; there’s not a hint of underground on her, so that’s a relief.

The hooffalls have a deeper thud to them like a heavier pony is there, and the timing of the sound and vibrations match perfectly with each step. Her heart rate is slow, but the thumps are audible with his senses turned to max. Her breathing is deep and steady, and she has the smell of fresh fruit and some kind of pastry or baked good on her breath.

Cure doesn’t dare consider trying to scan her because, at this point, he’s almost certain this is the real thing.

Closing the door he canters to keep up with her longer strides, and can detect the instant she’s visible to everypony when all sound, aside from the fillies eating, comes to a complete and total stop.

Lotus is the first of the foals to realize something is up. Following everypony else’s gaze, she turns to find Celestia standing there and, fork still in her hoof, waves to greet her. “Hewwo Pwincess. I wewwy like your wetter book! And your mane! Is so pwetty!”

Cherry turns around to greet her too. “Hi Princess! Wow your mane is pretty! And you’re so tall!”

Ya shoulda seen her a moment ago.

“Hello, my little ponies. Thank you both, it takes a lot of work to get it just right!” she says, smiling at the girls. Looking up to Cure’s sire she deepens her voice and adds, “Hello again, Mr. Deed. It’s nice to see you so soon, Savior of Canterlot.”

“Uhhhhhhhhhhh…” he intelligently replies, frozen on the spot.

“Would you… care to join us, Your Highness?” Vines asks, looking hopefully to the mare.

“Why, I would be delighted! Thank you. Mrs. Vines, correct?”

“Yes, Your Majesty. It’s very nice to meet you!” she beams back, tail wagging at the thought that the princess knows her by name.

“Right, introductions,” Cure realizes. “So, I’m sure you know the four of us, but this is Cherry Tart and Lotus Bloom,” he says, tapping the girls between their ears, “and their dams, Lemon Sweet and Amethyst Blossom,” he adds, pointing to each mare in turn. “Certainly nopony needs to be told, but, everypony, say hi to Princess Celestia.”

Everypony choruses “Hi Princess Celestia!” at once.

Cure quickly scoots the girls aside a little bit, preparing to move his chair to sit next to his sire, but apparently the princess has other ideas. She carefully walks around the table and asks the stallion, “Could you scoot over a tad, dear?” With an inarticulate squeak Deed quickly nods and scoots to his left enough for her to sit next to him and on Vines’ left, though there’s barely room for the two, with his left and her right sides almost lining up with the edge of the table.

Vines quickly hops up, runs to the cabinets, and gets another setting for the princess, moving her setting to the right, closer to Amethyst, while laying everything out for the ancient mare.

Cure can barely hold back a snort when the princess wiggles close enough to his sire that their haunches and shoulders are touching, and he’s sure he’s never seen the dark stallion turn that shade of magenta. Watching the poor thing do everything in his power to avoid looking up to the taller mare makes it really difficult not to laugh, especially with that shit eating grin she has.

Lemon, Title, and Amethyst all trade bewildered looks until Title shrugs and starts digging in again, scooting her plate a little to the left and crowding Lemon, to give Deed more room. The other two follow suit shortly thereafter, though at a more sedate pace.

“So, your highness,” Cure starts between bites, “not that we’re not thrilled to have you, but may I ask what brings you to our humble abode?”

“Oh I just happened to be in the area, you see, and I thought I might drop in to say hi,” she explains as she takes a bite of the salad.

“Uh huh…”

Instead of immediately responding, she looks to Vines and praises the food. “This salad is absolutely wonderful. Did you grow everything yourself? I noticed the garden out back on my way here.”

Lighting up again, Vines enthusiastically nods. “We did, Your Highness! We all work together in the garden every Sunday and, whatever I have that’s ready, we take to the market to sell for a few extra bits.”

“Well I am certain you must sell everything whenever you go,” she gushes. “I don’t believe even the castle has such delicious produce!”

Rather than play some kind of weird mind game, Cure figures that either he’s completely fucked and might as well enjoy his last dinner, which doesn’t seem to be the case, or she’s aware that he’s very mature for his age and is just messing with him for some reason. He knows in the show she has a good sense of humor and likes to tease ponies, so maybe this is just how she feels somepony out.

Opting to do his best to ignore her presence, he looks over Cherry’s head to Lemon on his right. “So the snacks you brought in were a hit. I saw several of the unicorns pounding candy to keep their magic production up throughout the day. I have to admit I had more caramels than a healthy pony should too.”

“Oh? That’s wonderful! Maybe I’ll get a few new customers out of it.”

“I dunno. I think a lot of them are just in town to help out, but who knows? Maybe you should include some blank order forms or something if you’re going to take any tomorrow. I would also set them in front of some kind of sign or something, that way everypony can easily see your business’ name when they’re stuffing their faces. Will most of your stuff ship pretty well?”

“Yep! The only things that don’t are the ones with fruits in them, and I usually only make a lot of those during summer when they’re just being harvested.”

“Nice. Yeah, I’d definitely put a stack to the side along with a price list and, if you have it, how long it typically takes to ship things. Who knows, maybe somepony will order a few for Hearts and Hooves day if they really like ‘em.”

“That’s a great idea, Cure! I’ll go get some forms ready.”

“If you want to use my Quick Copy crystal, be my guest,” he suggests with a shrug.

“My, your son has wonderful business acumen,” Celestia compliments, nudging Deed with a shoulder. Looking to Cure she adds, “It’s no wonder your cosmetic business is doing so well. I understand you’re booked up most of the way through February.”

Cure smoothly changes to his salespony persona and nods to the princess. “I sure am, but I’m full on magic right now if there’s something you’re wanting done. I can’t fathom how I could improve upon perfection, but if you want me to give it a try I would never say no. Maybe I can add some of that lovely coloring from your mane and tail to your wings, for example.”

Giggling, she fans herself with a hoof. “Oh my, such a charmer,” she airliy replies. “The offer is tempting, though.” Spreading a wing back she leans to her left, heavier against Deed, while looking it over and gives a thoughtful hum. “I’ll have to think on it. Some ponies may just panic if I were to change at all, unfortunately,” she explains, folding the wing back and brushing it over Deed along the way. “I saw your work on Nurse Star and Dr. Crystal today. That was very impressive.”

“Thank you! They were both very happy with the results too. Hopefully they’ll send a few colleagues from Canterlot my way.” He looks to his parents to explain, “Ruby Star is the nurse assistant and Crystal Dawn is the doctor I worked with on the emergency response team. I offered to give them a deaging treatment when we had down time, so I did ‘em slowly over the course of the day whenever I was near full on magic.

“They’re both from Canterlot, so I told them if they’d do me a favor and refer a few ponies my way I would accept that in lieu of payment. They’re both going to send their husbands out to me sometime over the next couple weeks, probably once they get home after the birthing season ends.”

“Do you think you’ll be able to take care of the demand?” Celestia asks. “It sounds like you may end up scheduling even further out.”

“Well, for the ponies that are traveling far, that’ll give them time to make arrangements. Maybe we can make some kind of deal with the hotel downtown,” he ponders aloud. After a few seconds of thought he continues, “Yeah, that would work. We can send ‘em back a note with the hotel info, some of the nice places to eat, and their appointment info and that way they don’t have to worry about anything but showin up.”

“That does sound convenient,” she agrees. “I’m sure your patients will appreciate having everything ready in advance.”

The table falls into silence for a few minutes while everypony digs in. After a moment, Cure gives the princess a critical look, then claps his hooves together. “I’ve got it!” he declares, getting odd looks from everypony. “I have the perfect thing in mind for you, your highness!”

“Oh?” she asks, face full of curiosity.

“Yep, one sec.” Cure covers his snout with both forelegs and, after about five seconds, yells “Ta Daa!” and moves them to reveal a fabulous mustache that is way, way too large for his face. Both girls reach up and start batting at the sides while giggling.

Celestia laughs boisterously at the image. Vines sighs “every meal…” while Title just keeps eating. The other three nervously chuckle along.

“Perfect!” Cure shouts. “See, with this fella you can do all the mean things you think about but can’t ‘cause of the whole ‘benevolent monarch’ image. Like when nobles are being dummies and ya just wanna throw a pie at ‘em or something. Mustache on,” he points to his face, “and they know it’s Princess Arrestinya and’ll watch out.”

He quickly changes his coat white, alters his voice to nearly match, and approximates her mane colors, then snarls out, “You want tax money to paint the street gold in front of your mansion?!” Raising a hoof and waving it vigorously he shouts, “To the dungeons with him! FOREVER!” getting chorused “FOREVER!”s from the fillies.

Celestia laughs aloud for a minute until she sighs and smiles at Cure. “Maybe I can have you fill in for me when I need a day off! Oh that would be just wonderful!”

“Sure thing, boss lady. Here,” he says, detaching the mustache as a whole and holding it out, causing all the other adults to lean away. Celestia leans forward for a better look as he turns it around to show a small patch in the middle that all the hairs are growing out of. “It’s a small plant with an adhesive back. Just pop it on and, when you’re done, pull it off and put it in some sunlight and occasionally water it.”

“Oh my! You know, this is probably the most unique plant I have ever been given,” she says, floating it over and, after a thoughtful hum, sticks it on the tip of her horn, getting a laugh out of everypony.

After a few more chuckles Cure explains, “Eh, I figured it’s my sire’s job to get ya flowers, being your long distance paramour and all.” Looking up at the hornstache he adds, “That’s a good look. Very dashing.”

Glancing up she smiles broadly. “Thank you!” Deed just glares back at his son while Celestia giggles and brushes against his shoulder. “Maybe next time he’ll remember,” she suggests in faux hopefulness.

“This is kind of weird, right?” Title finally asks. When everypony looks in her direction she waves at Cure and the princess and adds, “I mean… you’re acting like this is just another day. It’s not just me thinking that, right?”

Deed looks at Title and quietly agrees with her. “Very weird, babe. I have half a mustache-horned princess on me. That’s not a normal day by any stretch.”

That just causes Celestia to lean into him a little more. “Unusual plants aside, it seems like a pretty normal day to me. At least, as far as the birthing season goes,” she says with a shrug and a teasing smile.

“It was kind of exhausting, to be honest,” Cure argues. “I normally only work between one and two hours a day. I don’t think I have the endurance you all do yet. Maybe in a couple years… Hey, speaking of endurance, your highness, do you have any good advice for how to grow your magic capacity? So far everypony just says to use magic as much as possible, but I wasn’t sure if you’ve ever stumbled upon anything specific that helps.”

“Unfortunately that’s all you can really do. At least, normally,” she sighs. “I’m sure you’ve heard it compared to a muscle many times and, though not completely accurate, that’s about the best analogy I can offer.”

“Huh. That’s a shame. I’m all about maximizing efficiency, ya know?”

“I believe the term that showed up often in quotes was ‘cheating’ if I’m not mistaken,” she agrees.

“Same diff; cheating implies that there’s a victim, though. It sounds a lot more fun than ‘maximizing efficiency’ don’t you think?”

“I’ll grant that,” she concedes with a nod.

“Hey you said normally there. Would you… uhh… mind elaborating on that, please?”

“Certainly. You see, it is my belief that ponies are creatures of destiny. No other creature on the planet is as tied to the concept, as far as I know. That, I believe, is why only we are granted cutie marks. What are they, after all, if not a sign that the world has a plan, or a role for each of us?

“You will find, I think, that your capabilities with magic will grow more quickly when you follow your destiny; when you show the world that you appreciate what you have been given thus far and that your prevailing desire is to share your gifts with your fellow creatures. I believe we are being given a hint or a nudge towards the path that will allow us to find a way to live harmoniously with all of the creatures with whom we share this world.”

Cure pauses his eating. He takes a moment to look at the mare sitting across from him. It’s easy, he realizes, to underestimate the entity he is sitting down to dinner with. She’s beautiful. She’s kind. She’s friendly and humorous.

She’s been alive, likely somewhere between twelve hundred and three thousand years. She moves the sun with a thought, and can glass a city with no effort. She’s accomplished more than any ruler Cure can think of in all of human history and, off the top of his head, almost the entire supposedly fiction multiverse, and she’s done it all while remaining nearly pure good.

And half the stories Edward read treated her with the same respect as any walking piece of pussy, sitting there waiting for the witty human to come along and conquer like a common slut.

“Interesting… that was beautiful, princess.” Smirking, he glances up. “You should always be so adorned when sharing wisdom with your subjects.”

Following his eyes to the mustache, she laughs uproariously as she nods at the suggestion. “I’m glad you think so,” she states, “I find something interesting as well. Your cutie mark, specifically. It very much resembles that of somepony I once knew.”

“It does, your highness?”

Nodding, Celestia begins, “Mmhmm. Her cutie mark was very similar; a staff with snakes, though hers had wings on it. I believe her talent worked differently than yours. Your talent seems focused primarily on changing life. Hers was directed more towards the concept of pure healing. I do not believe she could change things in a way that you can.”

“That is interesting,” he agrees.

“What happened to her?” Title asks.

“I do not know,” Celestia answers somberly. “She was devastated by the loss of the Crystal Empire. She was a crystal pony, you see, and escaped the spell that banished the kingdom when the Evil King Sombra fell to darkness.”

“Ah,” Cure nods in understanding. “Well, if her talent was healing she’s probably still out there somewhere.”

Celestia stops, mid-bite, and looks curiously at Cure. Answering the unasked question he explains, “What? You saw what I did with Dr. Crystal and Nurse Star. I’ve had my talent for a couple months. If she had a healing talent and didn’t eventually figure out how to stop or reverse aging I’ll eat my tail.”

“That… is something I had not considered,” she slowly explains. “Is that something you are capable of?” she asks; all other movement at the table stopping at the gravity in her voice.

“In theory? Yes. Realistically? No, at least, not right now. All I’m doing is treating the symptoms of aging. Why? Is that… like… illegal or something?”

Bursting out in laughter, Celestia leans back, holding a hoof to her chest while laughing uproariously once again. Everypony else, aside from the girls who have joined in, is frozen in place, unsure if they should be running or if everything is okay. After a moment, the princess finally stops and wipes a tear from her eye. “No,” she says, fighting another giggling fit, “it is certainly not,” she answers with absolute conviction.

Taking a serious tone she continues, “I wish you the very best of luck in figuring that out. I…” she pauses, looking sad, “have lost so, so many friends over the years. To think that someday I may not have lose more… To be forced to witness the inevitable come so quickly. The very idea brings me hope, Cure. If there is anything I can do to help, please let me know.”

“Umm… okay. I’ll let you know when I figure it out. Or if I get stuck, I guess.”

With a brilliant smile, the princess nods back. “I truly hope to be the first you tell when you succeed.”

As the conversation falls into a lull everypony finishes their food. Cure, always finished eating first, helps the girls with their last few bites as Vines and Amethyst stand to start clearing the table. The princess flashes her horn and all of the used plates, cups, and utensils are teleported to the counter by the sink, already cleaned.

Deed doesn’t pass on the opportunity to make a strategic retreat and, upon flopping on his cushion in the living room, is quickly surrounded by his wives. Amy and Lemon snuggle next to them on top of Title’s normal cushion and the girls climb on their dams’ backs.

Celestia lays down and stretches out on Vines’ cushion, fore and back legs hanging off each end, then pulls the mustache off and sets it aside. Her horn glows gold for a few seconds, then, with a flash, the mustache disappears, presumably teleported somewhere.

Cure figures what the hell, so he happily nuzzles her chest, then turns to flop down right between her forelegs and enjoys the warmth she puts off. Curling into a U shape so his withers are against her chest, back is trailing down her right leg, and neck and forelegs are laying over her left leg, he can only think of one thing. “Mmm… toasty,” he hums, nuzzling a cheek against her thigh.

“My, so forward,” she teases with a giggle, leaning her neck back to nuzzle between his ears.

“Sorry, princess, snuggles are the price you pay for a free dinner. House rules, you know.”

The girls, seeing Cure’s example, hop down off their dams and run over to join in. Celestia happily levitates them to her back and entertains them with her flowing mane.

She folds her forelegs together, hugging him between them and noses at his mane. “A terrible price indeed, having to hold an adorable, exhausted foal in my arms.” She pauses and furrows her brows, then leans down and takes another sniff, getting raised brows from everypony and a dropped jaw from Vines.

“My, so forward, your highness,” he teases back.

“Why do you smell like cookies?”

“Cinnamon, sugar, butter… they put out scents. So do stinky colts. Tell me; which one sounds better?”

“Huh. That’s convenient.”

“Sure is. The ladies seem to enjoy it, at least.”

“So, not to be blunt, but … well… why are you here?” Title bluntly asks, wincing slightly at the tactless approach. “Don’t get me wrong, you’re always welcome to drop by and all, but somehow I doubt you typically stop in to have dinner with ponies you’ve never met before.”

With a deep sigh, the princess nods and begins her explanation, “Truthfully, I came for three reasons. First, to assuage the concerns of several of my advisors, especially from certain members of the Archmage’s Assembly.

“When foals gifted in restricted magic are found they are informed so that, should an unfortunate incident occur, a response can be prepared and we’re not found panicking at the last moment. Obviously we do not get many biomanipulators, so some have been overly insistent that some kind of action is necessary.”

Looking down to meet Cure’s eyes she continues, “They do not get the foal’s name or location; only information about the class of magic and displayed capabilities.” Looking back to the adults she adds, “Though I’m certain more than a few have put two and two together with the recent medical miracles coming out of Baltimare. I can now tell them I have met you all and there is nothing for them to worry about.

“That brings me to the second reason I am here.” Pausing, Celestia wraps Cure in an embrace and affectionately nuzzles between his ears and down his cheek; a far, far more friendly nuzzle than is typical between adults and others’ foals. The affection causes the blue colt to turn nearly solid purple. “I can’t thank you enough for what you’re doing to help my little ponies. Not just for your work at the hospital, but also the healing you do at your business, your help with the Guard, and what you did today.

“Please, continue doing what you have been doing. I am so, so proud to see a foal, with no guidance but from his parents, work so hard to help his fellow ponies. When you are a little older and feel prepared, simply let me know. I’m certain there is much I could teach you. I was very impressed with how well you did on your tests, too. I have no doubt you will continue to do great things, young Cure Wave.”

“Umm… Thank you, Princess Celestia. I won’t let you down,” the blushing colt insists.

The princess smiles down beautifully at him and lays him back down between her forelegs. “I’m sure you won’t. The third reason I came is to extend an invitation. Should you find yourself traveling to Canterlot, please don’t hesitate to drop in for a visit. I’d be delighted to host all of you at the castle. It is, after all, the least I can do to show my appreciation for the good you are doing.”

Glancing back to Vines she adds, “Not to mention I owe you all a delicious dinner as well.”

“That sounds absolutely wonderful, Your Highness!” Vines exclaims while clapping and nearly vibrating all over. “We’d be delighted to come visit next time we’re there!”

Deed, Title, Amethyst, and Lemon all quickly agree, though less animatedly than Cure’s dam.

“Aww fudge… I just thought of something,” he sighs out. “Dawn’s gonna kill me, she just about flipped her lid when I said I’d probably eventually meet with you. She’s gonna be bummed she missed ya.”

“Well that just means you’ll have to bring your little fillyfriend with you when you come visit, doesn’t it?”

“Sure… I bet that’ll make up for it. My friends and I are coming to the capital in May for the Wonderbolt’s season opener. Maybe we can come by a day or two early and stop in?”

“That sounds wonderful!” she exclaims, “I would offer to let you use the royal box seats, but I believe that would draw quite a bit of unwanted attention. I have visitors at the castle often enough that nopony should pay you any mind. Plus those ponies understand discretion. I have plenty of room for you and your friends.”

“Cool! Thanks, princess! Oh! I just thought of something! Do you have to go right away? I’m sure Sgt. Haze included my trees we’re making in his part of the report. Would you like to see them?”

“He did and I am very interested. Unfortunately, I have already stayed longer than I should. I have a suggestion, though. If you have them ready in time, perhaps you could bring them when you come to visit in May. That way I could get the review process started and, hopefully, expedite it somewhat. He mentioned you expect to have them ready in spring, correct?”

“Yep! That sounds great, princess!”

“Wonderful! In the meantime, if you come up with anything else, like improved crops perhaps,” she says, giving him a look that tells him she knows the food they ate was modified, “then maybe you can share that as well. I am sure that everypony would be thrilled to have such delicious food as that at every meal.”

“Heh… yeah, sure. Umm… do I need to get those examined or something?” he asks, ears folded back.

“That’s not necessary. Please do not be angry, but the sergeant was ordered to obtain seeds from each plant already. We had to ensure they would not spread invasively. Once the analysis shows they’re safe, which I am obviously sure they are, you will be credited for development of the new crops.”

“Credited? How? You certainly know I’m trying to keep my identity hidden. At least from the public.”

Giggling, she gives him a little squeeze. “Yes, I am very much aware. That’s why I came to you by myself. No, these will come in tax rebates based on improved crop yield, nutrition, and no doubt several other measures. It will take some time, but you should expect a letter in the mail in a few months to inform you of the results.”

“Oh stars,” Title mutters, covering her eyes with a fetlock.

“Tax rebates?” he asks, ears perking up. “Oh, princess,” he says, nuzzling into her chest, “those are two of the most beautiful words I’ve ever heard.”

“Good!” she happily nods, “Then I will look forward to seeing what else you come up with. Maybe we can save somepony at the tax office having a nervous breakdown when they see you coming, hmm?”

“Heh… okay, princess. I’ll be good,” he insists, tail wagging happily.

“I’m sure you will,” she teases. Looking at the adults she continues, “Thank you all for welcoming me into your home and sharing with me a wonderful dinner. I look forward to seeing you all again.” Floating the, now asleep, fillies out from under her mane, she sets them on their dams’ backs and stands to leave, everypony following behind her to walk her out.

Once outside, her horn flashes again and she returns to full size. Waving a wing to the family, she crouches down, leaps up, and shoots off into the air headed west. Lightening himself, Cure quickly jumps onto the roof of the house from the ground and changes his colors to blend in, shocking the parents. The princess looks to be cruising slightly higher than the altitude of the cloud district, which is half a kilometer off the ground, give or take, and gaining altitude.

He counted for four minutes before, even with his enhanced vision and her bright tail, she was impossible to detect in the sky. Hopping down, he finds all five adults looking at him curiously. “I wanted to see if I could estimate how fast she can fly,” he explains. “It’s… fast. Like, I think she’ll be back in Canterlot in under an hour fast. She may be there in under forty minutes, in fact.”

“How do ya figure that, sport?”

“I could track her for four minutes. I should be able to do that for about sixty kilometers on a nice, clear day like this. Canterlot is less than six hundred kilometers west, so, four minutes times ten,” he finishes with a shrug. “It’s close enough for an estimate. Really, I was just curious about how fast she can go. I’m betting she’s not really pushing herself, but hey, it’s another data point. Also worth noting, she did not use runes to cast.”

“What? Like crystals?” Title asks.

“I don’t think so, not exactly. I could hear the vibration but it wasn’t anything different from a unicorn using levitation. There was no pattern when she casted Reduce to shrink or just now when she canceled it. Or with the cleaning cantrip. Not even when she teleported the mustache away. Or incinerated it, I guess, but I bet it’s in her room at the castle. She’s operating purely on the metaphysical side or something.” Shrugging he adds, “Maybe it’s an alicorn thing.”

“Huh…” she glances off into the distance thoughtfully. “That’s interesting.”

Amethyst, looking between him and the house, asks, “How in tarnation did ya leap all’a the way to the roof, son?”

“That’s probably something we should discuss inside,” Title insists.

“Yeah, but first I should probably go tinker with the garden. I don’t know what kind of tax rebates she’s going to come back with, but they better be off the charts because those crops they stole could potentially represent hundreds of thousands of bits.”

“Wait, what?” Lemon asks, wide-eyed. “How the hay do you figure that?”

“I mean, I don’t know, but look at it this way. You have a farmer, right, and they’re producing, let’s just say, ten thousand kilograms of whatever.” He pauses in thought a moment and continues, “Melons. We’ll just say melons. And again, I have no idea if ten thousand kilograms is impossibly high, low, or about right. Okay?”

“Right,” she agrees, nodding.

“If that’s all they’re growing it would be low,” Vines interjects, “but most don’t just grow one thing, so ten thousand is possible.”

Cure pauses, then nods in acknowledgement. “Thanks, dam. Well in my example if you give that same farmer our super crops and, with less effort, they can produce fifteen thousand and their melons taste better and are however much more nutritious, so even though yield has gone up by fifty percent, work has gone down by twenty percent and nutrition value has gone up a bunch, okay?”

“I guess. I’m not sure how you figure that’ll be less work.”

“They’re heat, cold, and pest resistant and require less water and fertilizer. And grow faster. A farmer shouldn’t need to work as hard to get the same end result. Anyhow, that fifty percent yield alone means they are making half again as much. I know it’s not really that simple because food prices will also drop if this is happening all over, but just in that simple example you can see how those few seeds could be worth a fortune.”

“That’s true, son. I hadn’t really thought of it, but that garden’s worth its weight in gold to a farmer, ain’t it?”

“It is, pa. And they just came in and freakin stole it without asking. Why wouldn’t they ask?”

“Sweetie, she said they were concerned they could be invasive. If they spread all over the place what would happen then?”

“Free food for everypony? Or, gee, how’s this for an idea? Come get me at the first sign of a problem and I’d fix it. You told me once there’s enough food for everypony; if nopony is starving why not ask first? If they thought them invasive they would have quarantined the area, taken samples, and torched the whole thing.

“I’m asking this because I legitimately don’t know; can the princess just walk onto somepony’s land, see something she wants, take it without asking, then use it however she wants?”

“Yes!” is the immediate, shouted answer from all five adults, startling the colt and making him recoil slightly.

“Fine!” he yells, “I’ll leave the garden alone. They already have all that anyhow I guess. Let’s go inside,” he grumbles, stomping his way past the adults and into the house.

With no reason to argue, the group makes their way back in and gets comfortable again.

“So, I don’t know how much you know about cells, but one part of a cell is called a mitochondrion, or mitochondria if plural. What they do,” he says, beginning his explanation…

Chapter 47: Heartfelt Hellos II

Author's Note

This is, essentially, the other half of the last chapter. They started as one, but when I got closer to 20k I split them up.

48 through 51 are done aside from some cleanup. I'll warn you all right now, though, they're not the 13k behemoths I've been putting out. Those take a minute, for reals.

Chapter 47: Heartfelt Hellos II

Sunday, January 18th, 909 AB (the next morning)

Amethyst, Lemon, and the fillies spent the night again. Both stallions in the house were happy to have them over; Deed certainly wasn’t opposed to some ‘welcome home’ snu-snu and Cure was delighted to have a little sister snuggle pile all to himself.

After breakfast the rest of the family joins Cure on his way to Town Hall. Title had started getting contractions before breakfast, so Cure suggested they all go together to deliver the foal first thing before it gets busy. They kicked around the idea of having her at home, but with all of the stations prepared to handle the paperwork and everything they decided it would be easier to go down and take care of everything at once.

Lemon went to her shop to work on more treats for everypony and get some order forms and a business sign ready like Cure had suggested. Amethyst, along with the girls, decided to stay home, get everything ready for the foal, and wait for the family to return.

Fortunately there isn’t a whole lot for the three to do. Pony babies are ridiculously low maintenance compared to humans, so a few cloth diapers, some blankets, toys, and a crib are about all that’s necessary. With Cleaning and Prestidigitation crystals, not to mention Title’s upgraded ganglion-run horn, the multitude of supplies Ed had to tote around when he babysat for Alanna won’t be needed.

Neither are backups of anything required when a Cleaning cantrip or a Repair spell can instantly put anything back to exactly how it should be. With Cure’s ability to sterilize the area and address anything health-related that would be needed, Title can look forward to, possibly, the easiest time a new dam has ever had with a newborn. She doesn’t even have to worry about pumping or storing milk with her mammary upgrades and Vines there to help.

Despite Cure’s insistence that a good sire should be willing to contribute, Deed refused Cure’s offer for, “A killer set of tits.” Title thought it was a great idea and even Vines got a good laugh at the suggestion, but Cure relented when Amethyst asked when he’d pop out his own set of ladies to help out.

After the princess left Cure had explained his mitochondria project, minus the recent addition of griffon capabilities, to his increasingly likely future moms. Lemon was all on board for getting converted but Amethyst took a little convincing. They both wanted to wait for the girls to get old enough to understand how to keep their capabilities secret before starting on them, something he hadn’t considered but agreed was a wise precaution.

Unfortunately, unlike his parents the bond that allowed him to share magic did not exist with the two mares. Instead of using their own magic he had to rely on his sire to act as a pony battery; something he didn’t mind doing, but still frustrated Cure, but was also a relief in a way. The fact this bond existed with his parents but not with anypony else reassured him again that he is their son, additional memories or not.

The griffon Cure had scanned is the owner of Early Bird’s Beakery (a griffon pun, apparently) and not actually named Early at all. Early is just a nickname he’d adopted due to being open hours before most shops are in Baltimare. It stuck, apparently, so he ran with it and renamed the business accordingly. His bakery is very popular amongst not only the early risers, but also the bats looking for a snack before bed.

Regardless, several months prior when asking about the abilities of other creatures of the world his parents had told Cure that they were fairly certain griffons had a way to sharpen their talons and claws. The tests he’s run so far seem to support this. Though he’s only converted five percent of his cells to include the additional functions, he can already tell that the resolution on his TK field has increased as a result.

The change has been significant, lending further credence to Cure’s belief that the relationship between aura effectiveness and cellular saturation is logarithmic in nature. The “sharpness” of his field is still a ways below what he guesses is necessary to create a pure force blade, but presumably that will improve as he grows in total mass and with the percentage of his cells he converts.

Their mitochondria setup is similar to a pegasus or earth pony with a different design in their muscles compared to the rest of their body. Cure hadn’t expected to find magic-generating cells in the scan, but that appears to be what’s in everything but their muscles. As far as he knows griffons can not control the weather, so presumably the results of those cells’ production is used to enhance their vision, protect against the elements, or possibly sharpen their aura beyond what the mitochondria themselves produce.

When he’d told Amethyst and Lemon about the conversion last night the very first line of questions Amethyst had asked made him and all three parents feel like complete morons.

“So muscles have either pegasus or earth pony parts ‘n everything else is unicorn?”

“That’s right, Amy. Unicorns have the same throughout their whole bodies though, mostly,” he explained. “Keep in mind in both muscles and other cells there’s also five percent each of the other kinds. That’s why we’re all lightning resistant and can grab things, even if they’re weaker than us.”

“Right, right,” she nodded in acceptance, “I just don get why ya ain’t changin that fat mitowhatevers over. Ain’t that like a fifth of what most ponies are?”

Cure sat for a moment working his jaw but not coming up with any response. He looked at Title and found the pink mare giving herself a facehoof, which told him it hadn’t occurred to her either. “See?” he asked, motioning to the purple mare, “this right here? This is why I discuss crap with everypony. Amy?” he said, meeting her amused eyes, “I wasn’t sure it possible, but you might just be as brilliant as ya are beautiful, you know that?”

With an indifferent shrug the mare simply nodded in acceptance. “Shoot, son, I coulda told ya that months ago. Now what else are y’all doin wrong I can setchya straight on?”

Rather than restart from scratch, Cure had applied the new template, which he calls Hybrid Mk II mitochondria, to unicorn mitochondria cells that were scheduled to get converted next. His cells are, excluding his brain and fat, 62% Mark I hybrid, 5% Mark II, and 33% unicorn.

The new plan is to begin changing the fat mitochondria over (accounting for the slightly different design compared to other tissue), then resuming the rest of the conversion of his normal cells. With the “blank” fat cells included and after the morning’s session, Cure is at about 53% Mk. I, 4.5% Mk. II, 28% unicorn, and 14.5% fat.

Griffons seem to be about the same size as an earth pony, and have approximately the same muscle mass, though it is configured differently. Ponies would definitely leave them in the dust in any kind of long distance run. That likely would never be an issue, though, as griffon wings are designed for gliding and diving and would certainly make it difficult to escape a determined pursuer unless there is cover to hide under like a dense forest canopy.

He would need to scan a female to be sure, but most of their internal systems, including digestive, nervous, muscular, and reproductive appear mostly mammalian, but their pulmonary and cardiovascular systems have features normally found only in birds.

Their lungs are an interesting design that is primarily avian, with smaller volume but massively superior efficiency compared to a pony. Cure has seen a similar design in the many birds he has scanned, but now that he has a working model scaled to the appropriate size, he intends to replicate useful parts of it within himself.

The lungs in particular correspond to their wing size and shape, further supporting his theory that griffons are best at higher altitudes where pony lungs would struggle to get enough oxygen, especially with their songbird-shaped wings that are fantastic for maneuverability and quick takeoff, but comparatively less efficient for long distance flights or gliding.

That, in particular, was something Cure noticed when the princess visited the night before. She has the same teeth as bat ponies and wings that are longer than a pegasus’ but without the huge secondaries that line a griffon’s wings. He’d only seen the same wing shape on a duck, in fact, which is really strange and leaves him wondering what that shape could excel at. Presumably takeoff speed, given that a duck is doing so in water with little or no starting velocity.

Regardless, based on their wing design, at low altitudes a pegasus or, especially, a bat pony should eat a griffon alive if they can catch it, but if caught unprepared, a swooping dive from a griffon would mean a swift and bloody end for anything in its path not sporting steel armor.

On the ground an unarmed pegasus would probably be in trouble, and a unicorn without magic would be dead meat. Unless griffons can burn magic to increase strength, an earth pony would be considerably stronger, but landing a blow on a more agile and, likely, quicker foe would not be easy. It would depend heavily on how effectively the earth pony could leverage their grabbing aura and use it to catch an attacking griffon off guard.

Cure wanted to discuss the princess’s destiny speech with his parents, but that was a conversation he was not prepared to share with Amethyst and Lemon until they were officially going to be family. From the way the topic was not specifically focused on he was certain his parents felt the same way. He managed to maintain eye contact throughout her speech, but even in his periphery it was impossible to miss the dawning realization on their faces at the key concepts she mentioned.

Of course there were plenty of other bombshells dropped during the princess’s visit that distracted the mares. The big one being the offer for the princess to teach Cure at some point. He’s not sure exactly what she has to teach him, given that he doesn’t think she knows he can use unicorn magic. He was initially worried she would be some kind of all-seeing, all-knowing demigod, but given that she never even considered that Radiant Hope could still be out there that's obviously not the case.

It's possible that, since she was somehow bypassing the rune steps, perhaps there’s something earth ponies can do he hasn’t found evidence of yet. He doubts that’s the case though based solely on the fact that, while she was not using runes, her horn did still vibrate during casting. There's also the fact that Cure cannot come up with any legitimate reason that the princess would keep that kind of knowledge from her ponies. He is only keeping information from his friends to protect himself and his family, after all.

Depending on what she meant the offer could be huge. Beyond huge, in fact, to the point where neither mare seemed to be able to wrap their heads around it. Cure assured everypony that, depending on the details, he intended to take the princess up on the offer, but probably not until at least the fall or maybe next year. He will have to get more info and have a serious sit-down with his parents.

Cure hopes to find time to have a private conversation with her highness at some point during his visit in May to see if she’ll give him a hint of what the agenda could be. If it’s some political science bullshit he may just pass. She did, after all, only say “I’m certain there is much I could teach you.”

Amethyst in particular was very leery of the idea simply for the fact that she believes some unicorn noble will take it upon themselves to put the lowly earth pony in their place. Cure didn’t show off any of his capabilities but he did assure her that it would likely take a purpose built team to kill him off and anypony that tried and failed would regret the attempt.

Still, Cure didn’t discount the fact that an attempt on his family would be far more likely to succeed, even if he would do his utmost to ensure the perpetrator’s name would be immortalized as a cautionary tale against thinking oneself untouchable. Few things would make Cure want to truly torture another creature. After a moment's imagined fury at the thought of his dam being hurt he had to reshape his teeth back to normal from the serrated edge he'd given them subconsciously.

The other huge topic that neither Amethyst or Lemon seemed to be prepared for was the discussion of immortality; or at least of eternal youth. Cure explained that he can think of a few ways to pull it off, but all of them require his direct involvement for now. Everypony agreed that’s a great way to end up at the center of a complete shit show, so until an alternative can be found there’s not much point in making it known that he likely really can turn back the clock.

As the family approaches Town Hall they pass by much of the same as Cure had seen the day before. This time nopony even glances their way since Title is obviously about to pop. Cure does have to split off, but assures his parents he’ll either be back soon or somepony should come get them once he checks in.

He approaches Bulwark who is standing front and center before the birthing areas again, though noticeably straighter and more rigidly with an extra layer of polish on his gear. “Well aren’t you all gussied up, sarge?” he teases. “I do believe our special guest went home, though, sir. I lost sight of her flying due west an hour before sunset at somewhere around nine hundred kph. Did you know she could move like that?”

“Shit, son. Came to say hi, did she? Can’t say I’m surprised.” Bulwark sighs and looks around a moment, then shrugs before continuing. “Well I had no clue she was here yesterday until she walked in my office, nopony else the wiser, so I think I’ll assume the same today. Nine hundred kph, though? How’d you figure that?”

“Counted until I couldn’t see her. The tail helped. Or she turned invisible, projected an illusion, and was standing next to me making silly faces the whole time. I could honestly see her doing that. She seems to have a pretty good sense of humor. Anyhow, I think she mainly wanted to talk to me, which she did, so…” he trails off with a shrug.

“Ah. Good talk? Anything I need to be aware of?”

“It went well. She’s very soft and warm,” he teases, getting a barked laugh from the sergeant.

“I’ll have to take your word for it.”

Scoffing, Cure points out, “Dunno, sarge, I bet she’d be happy to give ya a hug. Just maybe ask off the clock and out of armor. She’s still a pony and I ain’t found a pony yet that doesn’t enjoy a good hug.”

“HAH! I’ll keep that in mind.”

“Just don’t call her mom or something. That would make it weird. Anyhow, to answer your question, no. We just had dinner, then talked about why she stopped by. Apparently some of the archmages in Canterlot got a little nervous and thought I was gonna start…” Cure pauses in thought, trying to come up with some nefarious scheme and coming up blank.

“I dunno, honestly, what they thought. I’m not the best evil schemer apparently,” he says with a shrug. “I’m makin good money, have friends, and my whole family is alive. My bad-pony origin story is weak as fudge. You have any good ideas, sarge?” he asks, looking up at the large stallion.

“Ideas… for you to do something evil? I can’t say that I do, Cure,” he answers with a chuckle.

“Damn, I would probably make an awful villain. Oh well, I sure as the sunrise ain’t plannin a coup. I think you just gotta have a different kinda mindset to want that job. Whatever, I better get to work. Have a good day, sir.”

“Alright, son. Good luck today, Cure. I think you may need it,” he ominously warns. After a second he adds, “Oh and if you come up with any good schemes let me know first, okay?”

Cure pauses to look at the big earth pony, trying to decipher his meaning. Bulwark smirks back until Cure gives up and nods back. “I’ll come get ya if I think of anything, sarge. You can be my number one henchpony!”

Cure heads back to get his gown and vest on and, once suited up, makes his way over to the Emergency Response Team’s area between birthing Areas Four and Six. He finds Dr. Crystal, Nurse Ruby Star, and Nurse Gentle, along with a white unicorn mare; all of whom turn to face him when he walks up.

“Umm… I’m not late, am I? I checked when I left the house…” he trails off when Nurse Gentle shakes her head no.

“Cure, " Dr. Crystal starts, waving to the unicorn, “Mrs. Veil here is the lead organizer responsible for the whole process. She has been asked by somepony, and I have my suspicions who,” she says tersely, “to rearrange the process today.”

When Mrs. Veil opens her mouth to explain, Dr. Crystal talks right over her, earning a withering stare that she pays no mind to. “They want us on point. Every dam that comes in today will end up with us. They’ll bring them in when they hit stage three and we’ll have ERT 1 on standby and to cover breaks. The interloper has asked that, for all intents and purposes, this is your show today.

“Frankly,” she shouts, looking slightly upwards, “I think she’s putting too much on a young foal’s withers too early,” she continues in a normal tone, “but hey, if you think you’re ready for it then who am I to argue?”

“I think she went home. Then again, she’s fast enough… Is she here?”

“Got a visit, huh?” she asks with a smirk. “No, or if she is, she’s hiding even from me, but it’s possible,” she answers shrugging.

“I think I can manage it. By the way, my mom is here. She’s in stage one but I wanted to see if I could get her done and on her way.”

“We’ll check to see if anypony else is closer to delivery. I want you to conserve magic, so she may have to hold off until she gets closer. We’ll be moving between Areas One and Three.

“They’re wanting to send runners out throughout the day to bring in every expecting dam that hasn’t delivered yet. The idea is that when we have ‘down time’ and your magic is full they want to grab one and induce them since you can do it completely safely. They’re going to keep a few waiting here at all times so we can do them when we’re out of ones actually in labor. You clear them out, they bring more in until we’ve got them all.

“The way they’ll work is you get the foal out and check them over. The cleanup crew rushes in and does the rest. We go next door while they take care of the foal, dam, and the area, sterilize everything, and find the next one to get them set up while we’re in the other area delivering.”

Cure nods along, the whole time wondering if he’s going to have enough magic to keep up with the volume. Worried he may not, he begins converting the remaining fat cells’ mitochondria to the Mark II hybrid.

The conversion, for himself, takes little magic, but he’s going slow at only a percent every few minutes just in case. This also means he’s staying near full due to his regeneration working at the same time. With another, roughly, sixth as many magic producing cells he should be able to go from empty to full in about twenty five to thirty minutes when pushing himself.

He’s not happy that he had to do it without talking to his dam first, but he’s surrounded with medical professionals, so there’s just about never going to be a better time to try it. As the conversion is running he continues the conversation as normal. “What happens if three or more show up at once?”

“Then the other teams get them or, if one is high risk, take over for us and we go there. We’re expecting another sixty to seventy today. We had a hundred and fifty seven notify us, but there’s always some that don’t. Some may have also gone to Baltimare proper, so who knows. Are you ready for this, Cure? You can say no. This is completely unfair to ask of somepony so young. Stars, even if you were older this is still a lot to ask.”

“It’s fine. I can do it.” He turns to Mrs. Veil and tells her, “I’m going to be running hot. Literally. I’m going to possibly need ice water and carbs or sweets between each patient. Can you please have somepony get that for me?”

“Absolutely,” she nods, “We’ll have everything ready for all of you whenever you want to take a break as well. Don’t hesitate to speak up when you need it. We already have your mother in Area one if you’re ready.”

“Okay, sounds good. Doc, can I have a quick word in private?”

“Sure, colt. Walk and talk,” she says as the four start moving to Area 1. She casts a small Sound Bubble as they move. “Nopony should be able to hear us.”

“Do me a favor and keep my mom’s scan results to yourself, please. Some irregularities are going to show up, but they’re all done with her full knowledge and safety in mind.”

Dr. Crystal glances down questioningly at Cure, but doesn’t say anything for a second. “I’m about to see something wild aren’t I?”

“Yes. First off, mom really won’t need help with the foal. She has… uhh… significantly enhanced muscles. All of her muscles, basically. And bones. And a subdermal armored mesh layer. And some other stuff. Don’t worry about all that, though. Okay?”

She shrugs and explains, “Patient confidentiality. I won’t say anything, but now I’m curious what I’d find if you let me scan you too.”

“Mostly the same. I’ve shared everything with my parents,” he answers as they enter the area. Just as Mrs. Veil explained Title is in position and ready to go. “Hey momma. How are ya?”

“Oh look at your little vest!” Turning to Deed and Vines she asks, “Isn’t that adorable?”

“Heya champ,” Deed answers while Vines smiles broadly, nodding and visibility restraining herself from nuzzling him in his medical getup. “They got us just a bit after ya left.”

“Well, sorry to say but this is going to be a quick one. They’re going to have me helping to deliver almost every foal today. You ready, ma?”

"Yep. This the doc?” she asks, motioning to Dr. Crystal.

“Sure is. Dr. Crystal Dawn and Nurse Ruby Star. You’ve met Nurse Gentle Heart before.”

Dr. Crystal gets in position and activates her horn. Cure can see the doctor’s puzzled face when she casts the diagnostic spells. She subconsciously mouths “what the fuck?” three or four times, tilting her head back and forth with scrunched brows before looking up at Cure questioningly. He just shrugs back and asks, “Ready doc?” before putting a hoof on his mom’s side.

“Right. Sure.” With a full body shudder she nods back. “Okay, yeah, I’m ready now.”

“Alright, ma, we’re dilating your cervix. I’ll have you out of here in a sec.”

“Take your time, honey. You know I’m fine.”

“Maybe I was talking to my sister,” he teases. “How much do you want to feel? Some dams want the full experience or whatever. Dunno why, but who am I to judge?”

“Meh, I’ve had enough experience for one foal. Just go ahead.”

“Alright, you’re dilated. Ready doc?”

“Sure, colt.”

“Fire when ready, ma,” he jokes.

Cure doesn’t have to do anything. A while after their talk about “boa constrictor hoo-ha’s” where he mentioned how easy it would make foalbirth she had asked him to make the change and convinced Vines to do the same.

Birth is usually an easy process for earth ponies with their heightened resilience and stronger muscles. With a few improvements Title could easily push the foal out once dilated enough with neither pain nor difficulty. Cure could see Nurse Gentle’s puzzled face as Title, with about the same effort it takes to brush one’s teeth and while humming, of all things, pushes the filly out, pauses, then once she gets the go-ahead, does the same with the afterbirth.

Once the foal is born and the placenta taken care of, Deed and Vines both come over and give her kisses and nuzzles. Cure is still in his full gown, so he gives her a hug and follows the family out to the stations where they cleaned the foal and prepared them for the trip home.

It is the first time Cure got to see his little sister and, just like her dam, she has a lovely pink coat, but the little tufts of mane and tail are a light blue just like his coat. “Aww, she’s beautiful, ma. What’s her name?”

Title pauses in thought for a moment, and with a small smile declares, “I’ll name her Savvy Venture. Oh, honey,” she cries, wrapping around Deed and kissing him all over, then latching onto Vines, bawling her eyes out. Releasing her wife, she gives Cure a nuzzle, then scoops up her crying foal and starts heading to the new dam feeding area.

Cure wants to come too, but a runner arrives informing the team that another dam is ready. “I have a few dozen more foals to deliver. I love you, mom. Congratulations. I’ll see you all when I get home tonight,” he calls, waving as they’re escorted away.

Deed makes his way to the front door, unsure what to expect. The colt should be home soon. Stars, he should have been home a couple hours ago. Thankfully the clinic had enough sense to send a messenger to let them know he’s busy, but otherwise fine.

Deed certainly wasn’t expecting the other visitors they had earlier to show up, though looking back he definitely should have. He likes Title’s moms and sire well enough, but their relationship couldn’t really be described as anything but cordial. Still, they are family and absolutely have the right to come see their oldest daughter’s first born. Nevertheless he wasn’t heartbroken when they left to settle in for the night; the long train ride from Foaledo wearing on his father in law in particular.

It’s probably for the best that they not be here for Cure’s return anyhow. The colt’s paranoid enough he’d probably insist they let him scan them before getting within two meters of his sister. Finding ponies he probably barely remembers in his home unexpectedly after two long work days in a row sounds like a good way to stir up trouble.

As he gets closer to the door he can tell his son’s is indeed outside but he can’t think of a reason why he woud knock. Somepony is out there with him; from the smells he thinks it’s Sgt. Bulwark and Thunder Dance, Crosswind Drift’s dam.

Title is laying on her mat nursing Savvy and Vines is sitting opposite of her nosing at the little filly and struggling to keep from smothering her in kisses, only holding back because she’s eating. Amethyst, Lemon, and the girls had stuck around for several hours, but the mares had taken the girls home shortly after Title’s folks arrived.

She’d slept, pottied, and ate all day, barely crying or fussing at all. It looks like maybe he’d gotten lucky twice now; Cure was an easy foal to take care of too, which was a sun-sent blessing given their circumstances at the time. Deed had expected it with Savvy, though. Foals usually only cry when something isn’t right or they’re hungry, and with her big brother monitoring everything there was no doubt little Venture is as healthy as a newborn filly can possibly be.

Opening the door, Deed finds the expected trio of ponies but is surprised that his son is asleep on Thunder’s back. Bulwark is in full armor, but Thunder isn’t wearing anything. She has her wings cocked back, half covering the snoozing colt who has a happy grin on his face. “Huh… he okay?”

“Yep,” she answers with a nod, “just worn out.”

“Gotcha, come on in,” he says, stepping aside and waving them in. “Either of ya want a drink or anything? We have plenty to celebrate,” he adds, motioning to his wife and newborn.

“Tempting,” Bulwark sighs out as he walks in behind Thunder, “but we’re both on duty for another hour. We volunteered to provide escort for the VIP after he fell asleep while getting undressed,” he explains with a chuckle. “Nurse Gentle had to hunt him down and finish stripping him when he didn’t report back. Thank the stars she found him quickly; a few of my guards looked ready to raze the building when we thought he’d disappeared.”

Vines stands at seeing her son, but Thunder carries him over to her and Title, gently setting him on a cushion between the two and giving him a nuzzle. “Dr. Crystal checked him over,” she explains. “He’s perfectly fine, just tired, which is no surprise given what he did today.” Looking at Savvy she squees at the now-sleeping newborn. “So precious! Congratulations!” she whispers, getting a happy thank you from the new dam.

Vines doesn’t hesitate for a second to pull her son between her forelegs and check him over. He’s a little warm and sweaty, but seems to be sleeping peacefully otherwise. When she’s nosing at him he latches onto her neck and pulls her into a snuggle; something she’s perfectly happy to accommodate.

“That colt’s getting heavy,” Thunder complains as she rejoins the sergeant, “how the hay is he so much heavier than Crosswind when they’re the same size?!”

“He’s a solid slab of muscle, corporal. I told you he’s heavier than he looks. Just be glad you could lighten him most of the way here.”

“Yeah… he’s gotta weigh more than Wind Shear, though, and he’s eight!” Meeting his dam’s eyes she adds, “Your colt’s going to be beating them off with a stick, honey. Celestia knows he’s got my little Crosswind smitten with him; you shoulda heard her talking about that massage. I’m tempted to make an appointment just for that based on her description if he’ll let me.”

“Oh, I wouldn’t worry about that,” Title explains, “he doesn’t mind one bit. Just be sure you don’t have anything planned for the rest of the day afterwards and maybe have a ride home. Even if you somehow don’t fall asleep you’ll be in a daze for hours.”

“Mmhmm, that’s what she and Glacial said too.”

“So what has the colt all tuckered out?” Deed asks. “Normally he’s got more energy than any three foals oughta.”

Bulwark stands at ease as if he’s delivering a report. He takes a deep breath and explains, “Over the course of a little over eleven hours he helped deliver sixty eight foals. Granted, with some he just helped induce labor, but they count in my book. Other than the few dams out there that didn’t notify Family Planning and a couple that refused to come in, every single mare in Golden Hills that was due this season has delivered their foal. There was not a single stillbirth or complication all day.

“Every single foal born when he was present was in perfect health. Literally perfect as far as anypony could tell,” he continues with a disbelieving head shake. “He was able to completely heal most of the dams, at least the ones that stayed long enough for him to get free, and he helped several having difficulty feeding somehow. He said he was ‘buffing’ their mammaries. It was unbelievable. Utterly unbelievable.”

“Yep, you should have seen the workers that weren’t in the know trying to figure out what the hay was going on when there wasn’t a single foal in the incubators or getting breathing treatments or anything,” Thunder explains. “We took precautions to obscure his identity after you left. He changed his colors and put a fake horn on, then we removed his ID vest, though a few of the doctors and a couple nurses were asking questions. We got ‘em all, though, so no worries.”

“Got them?” Vines asks.

Bulwark answers, “She means we spoke to them and ensured they will respect everypony’s wish for privacy. Of course a few were a little… difficult, when she set this up Her Highness had the foresight to leave me some paperwork in case anypony started probing. All they saw was a light brown unicorn colt running around with a couple out of town experts.”

“Umm… She set this up?” Deed asks.

“She did,” Bulwark replies, “She made me aware of it yesterday evening. He could have declined, but we all know he wouldn’t.” Bulwark pauses for a second, then slowly and clearly continues while looking between the parents. “She said he has great potential, but needs to be challenged on occasion. I know the colt is something else and far be it for me to question Her Highness, but if She said something like that about one of my foals I think I would want to know it.”

Bulwark watches the three to gauge their reactions, then shares a quick look with a baffled Thunder. “This is not a surprise to you,” he observes. “You’ve all been expecting something like this?”

“Since about two days after he got his cutie mark,” Deed solemnly replies, then sighs. When he doesn’t elaborate any further Bulwark figures that’s probably all he’s going to get. That’s fine, though; he has no right to demand to know what a family discusses in the privacy of their home, after all. “Thanks fer bringing him home, sarge, Thunder. Do we need ta do anything special tomorrow or is he all done?”

“No. He’s done plenty. If he’s tired in the morning and wants to stay home from school that’s fine,” he suggests, pulling a slip of paper from a pocket in his chest piece and passing it to Deed. “Here’s a note from Dr. Crystal. The colt’s certainly earned a day off in my book.”

Bulwark turns towards the door to leave, then pauses and looks back to everyone. “I’m sure you all are, but it needs to be said. You should be very proud of your son. He did a lot of good today. Sixty three dams, sixty eight foals, and who knows how many husbands and wives; all of whom are safe, healthy, and home thanks at least in part to his efforts. That’s a lot to ask of anypony. It’s sure as the sun far more than I would expect from a foal.”

Turning fully to Title he gives her a respectful nod. “Congratulations, Mrs. Search. Your daughter truly is beautiful.” Looking between the three he finishes, “We’ll get out of your manes now. I hope you have a pleasant remainder of the evening.”

Thunder follows Bulwark out the door, calling one last “Goodnight, everypony!” over her withers as the door shuts.

Deed rejoins his wives and looks over his son curiously. “Does he seem okay? I’m guessin if the doc said so, but… uh oh, I just realized something.”

“What? That a doctor checked him out?” Title asks.

“Yep,” he nods, “I wonder if that’s gonna be an issue.”

“I doubt it is, honey. It’s the same doctor he deaged for free yesterday, remember? That’s also the same doctor that delivered Savvy.”

“Ah shit, I didn’t even think of that,” Title mumbles with a grimace. “You don’t think she’ll say anything about what she found?”

“Just another thing,” Vines sighs. “It seems like since those memories came life sure has gotten interesting. I don’t mean to sound unhappy; I truly couldn’t be much happier,” she adds, nuzzling her chin into her son’s, “but it certainly has been busy.”

“I’m sure you heard what the princess said yesterday. Then she set him up today and made another comment about challenging him. Do you think she can somehow tell when a pony is on the path like he talked about?”

“She can,” Cure answers, still unmoving from between Vines’ legs. “I know for a fact she gets visions of the future in her dreams,” he explains, stretching out with a big yawn. “On the show she gets one when Tirek escapes Tartarus in a hundred years,” he says as he slowly rolls onto his barrel and reaches up to give his dam a nuzzle on the underside of her chin.

“Well howdy there, sleepyhead. Have a long day?” Deed teases, poking Cure with his snout.

“Friggin long day,” Cure scoffs, “I burned, and I mean that almost literally, through more magic today than I probably have ever before,” he explains. “I don’t think a foal’s brain can keep that kind of activity up all day long. Even cheating to stay up and moving I eventually just fogged over. Next thing I know I wake up here. Did I miss much?”

“You passed out getting undressed, apparently. Nurse Gentle found you,” Title explains, “It sounds like Bulwark’s were about to scour the building when you disappeared, so it’s safe to say you’ve made some friends in the Guard. He and Thunder Dance brought you home.”

“Ah. I’ll have to thank them. We got anything to eat? I’m not exaggerating when I say I used more magic today than I have maybe ever before, total. I literally did not fill up on magic all day while pushing my regeneration to max.” Cure pauses and looks up to his dam. “Hey dam, I had to do something today I don’t think you’ll be too happy with. I kinda needed the extra magic regen, so… I converted the fat over first thing this morning.”

Unable to look up and risk seeing her disappointed or angry face, Cure instead focuses on his sister. Other than letting out a sigh, Vines doesn’t react for a moment, then nuzzles into her son’s head. “I suppose if you’re going to do things like that then you might as well do them when a doctor is nearby. I’m guessing nothing happened?”

“No, not really. I could refill my magic a little faster, but that’s it.”

“Oh! That reminds me, babe. I’m not knocked up anymore, so can we start doing my cells ton…err, maybe tomorrow?” Title asks hopefully, changing gears slightly at Vines’ snapped up glare.

“Sure, ma. How does everypony feel about doing more than a half percent per day? It’s been fine for dad and I. I can’t imagine it would matter if I sped up the process just a little bit until they’re even.”

“How far along am I, champ? I haven’t exactly been trackin it every day.”

“You’re at forty percent, pa. Well, a little less if we’re counting fat. I converted all of your muscle cells, basically. Truth be told, you’re getting almost all of the benefit from everything that I can give you; beyond about forty percent the only cells that seem to really make a big difference are the unicorn ones.”

With a hopeful look Title asks, “So I could catch up in about a month?”

“A little more if I keep doing a half percent in dad every day, but yeah. Maybe by the beginning of March? Dunno, math is not going so hot right now.”

“I say catch ‘er up. A percent a day is still slow enough and if ya do it first thing in the mornin you can keep an eye on ‘er till ya go to school.”

“I’m down,” Title instantly agrees. “Or a half each morning and night.”

Sighing, Vines just nods along.

Cure scents the air and looks around, then focuses on the closet with the guest mats stored away. “Did somepony…” pausing, he looks at his mom as realization dawns on him. “Are your parents here?”

“No, honey, they stopped by a couple hours after we got home. My sire was tired from the train ride, so they left for the hotel just after dinner. They’ll be back tomorrow morning though.”

“Ah. Gotcha.”

Savvy is still out cold, snuggled against her dam’s belly. Cure scoots closer and noses at the pink filly, getting her scent, then gives her a kiss on a cheek. “So beautiful… congrats, mom. The whole pony color thing is weird, though. I don’t understand how she and I got the same color, though in different spots, when dad doesn’t have an ounce of blue on ‘em. Delta Coast is gonna love her; she’s like her reverse twin or something, discounting Coast’s stripe I added, at least.”

“Thanks, babe. And thank you, again, for making the whole process so ridiculously easy. Those muscle enhancements felt like a cheat, and the ability to completely turn off feeling… Well, I’m very grateful, honey.”

“I don’t think anypony’s ever explained the color thing to me, son. Sometimes it’s from the parents, other times… who knows. Muscle enhancements?” Deed asks curiously, glancing up to his wife.

Cure shares a look with Title who winces at the slip-up. She and Vines both had the “upgrade” to their vaginal muscles done after New Year’s when Cure suggested them for the birthings, but they had planned to wait and surprise their stallion once Title could participate in their activities.

“Meh, don’t worry about it, pa. I gave the ladies a little more muscle control so that they can simply push the foal, or foals, out when their time comes. That way if I end up having to go to Baltimare when dam is due she’ll have as easy a time as mom did today. I didn’t have to help at all aside from a little cleanup after the placenta. No tearing, no bad stretching, no nothing at all. I’m glad it all worked so well.”

Vines stands and walks towards the kitchen. “I’ll get something heated up for you, sweetie. We ate a couple hours ago. We have some broccoli soup if that sounds okay.”

“Sounds good, dam. I can hit it with a heating cantrip; that may be even faster than the stovetop.” Scrunching his snout in thought he adds, “Damn, maybe I do need to invent a microwave after all.”

Title looks over curiously. “That’s the thing that heats water, right, babe?”

“Good memory, ma. It does. The little electromagnetic waves hit water molecules and cause them to vibrate just like we can do with our TK auras, but way faster.” Cure looks himself over and sighs. “Ugh, I need a shower.”

“Once you’re done eating I’ll help you clean up, honey,” Vines calls from the kitchen. “I’m sure you’re exhausted. Bulwark said you delivered sixty eight foals today.”

“Ugh… felt like a thousand and sixty eight. Heavy’s dam came in today, so I got to see them for a split second. How would you all feel about me tagging along with Dr. Crystal to help out in Fillydelphia, Manehattan, and Bostrot for the next three weeks?”

“Absolutely not,” Deed immediately responds. “You can help the other suburbs and in Baltimare, but you’re too young ta be travelin like that, son. It’s admirable ya wanna help, but yer not doin that ‘till you’re at least a few years older, got it?”

“Okay, okay… fine. I understand. You’re right, given I literally passed out today.”

“Good,” his sire nods, then wraps him in a hug. “I’m real proud of ya, champ. We all are. Ya done a lotta good today. You’ll get the opportunity again in just a few months, ya hear?”

“Sure pa. Love you. Maybe I can at least go to Canterlot in the summer if the boss lady will let me crash at her place.”

“Love you too, son. We can talk about it. Now go eat then let yer dam scrub ya real good. You know it upsets her seein ya carried home like that, even if yer alright. You can snuggle with yer sister once yer cleaned up, okay?”

“Alright. Ma, you need anything?”

“Nope. Go eat, honey.”

Cure nods and goes to the bathroom to take care of the long-awaited after-work routine. He also pops his horn out and hits himself with a cleaning cantrip to get rid of the sweat and grossness he feels all over his coat. Vines keeps him company while he eats in silence, then the two of them rejoin Deed, Title, and Savvy in the living room.

She’s awake and exploring, making happy noises as she climbs around Title’s hooves and legs. Title is laying on her side so Savvy can feed whenever she wants. Deed is curled around her front, occasionally nuzzling and kissing on his wife. Both of them are content to watch their little girl piddle about and make baby talk to her.

“Oh, I wouldn’t do that,” Cure warns as he approaches. “The whole baby talk thing sounds cute and all, but it can hinder early language development skills. You can soften your tone, that’s perfectly fine, but use real words and, if anything, speak more clearly. I’ll hafta talk to Amy at some point to see if she’ll let me work with Lotus on her lisp too.”

“Huh… I’ve never heard that, sweetie. I suppose it does make sense, though.”

“That’s not a bad point, Cure. Any other good parenting tips in that melon?”

“Lots, ma. Don’t use overly soft bedding in her crib. No blankets, and no sleeping with her either. Also, no toys. You definitely don’t want her associating the crib with playtime. Also, something that’s really hard, especially for first time dams; you can’t come runnin every single time she cries. Believe me, she will have you trained in no time, and fixin that ain’t easy. Feed her before bed, feed her in the night, then feed her in the morning all at set times if you can manage it.”

“No blankets?” Title asks, “How’s she gonna stay warm?”

“We’ll make her a sleep sack and keep a warming crystal nearby. Dam you got some leftover zippers? Buttons are a big no-no.”

“Sure, sweetie. Want me to go get one right now?”

“Ehh, let’s wait till after I shower maybe. I’ll do what I should have done with Dawn, Glacial, and Drift. I’ll extrude a sheet then just reshape it. In fact, I’ll get some crystal dust and I can add in the runic lines and add a fully-enclosed pocket for the warming crystal. She’ll be snug as a bug all night, momma.”

“Oh honey,” Title starts leaning over to kiss between his ears, “you’re such a wonderful big brother. She’s so lucky to have you looking out for her,” she coos, nuzzling up and down his cheek.

Vines lays opposite her wife and Cure is happy to snuggle into her tummy, turned to face his little sister who’s curiosity brings her to her big brother pretty quickly. While playing with her between his forehooves he asks his mom, “Are you okay with me checking her over?”

“Of course, babe. You don’t need to ask.”

Activating his mark, he gives his sister a quick check. “She’s perfect, ma. She’s gonna need to potty soon, though. You know, I bet I can help her with a lot of things like potty training and coordination and stuff. How much do you want me doing and how much do you want her to have to learn on her own?”

“How could you help potty train her?”

“Well it may take a little fine tuning, but from my understanding the hardest part of it is getting her to let you know before she needs to go potty. She has to learn to associate that ‘I need to potty’ feeling with ‘let dam know’, right?”

“Uh huh,” Title agrees, “that makes sense.”

“So we can do a few things. First off, dad and I need to go to the hardware store and get some treated, waterproof wood or lumber and some kind of finish, that way we can make like… I dunno what to call it, basically a platform that’s not as wide as a grown-up toilet, that way she can put her hooves on that and learn to squat and go like normal. Also, something for her tail to keep that out of the way.”

“We can do that tomorrow, son. Couldn’t you just reshape some wood inta somethin though?”

“Ugh. Overtired. You’re right, pa. We can go find any random tree and I can do it a lot easier. I can also put a soft tissue scan spell into a mid-low crystal. You can use that to check on her bladder and bowels every little while and see when she’s getting ready to fire. Of course, once I’m home I can take over that.

“Once we can get her to associate the need with going and, basically, teach her to use the modified toilet, we just need to make sure to reward her when she does a good job. How long does it usually take to potty train a filly?”

“You usually wait until they’re about a year and a half old, sweetie,” Vines answers. “Colts are a little easier. You were using the potty a little after a year.”

“That’s faster than humans, but that’s not surprising. Everything on this planet is smarter than humans start off. I just thought of something.” Cure gently takes Savvy’s forehooves in his and holds her so she’s sitting up and looking at him. “Savvy? Savvy Venture,” he gently coos, “Quick isekai test, sweetie. If you have memories from another life blink twice, okay? You aren’t the only one, baby girl, trust me.”

Deed snorts out a laugh, but judging from Title’s wide-eyed look she hadn’t considered the possibility. Vines pays rapt attention too, but apparently it’s not necessary as she looks up at her big brother and burbles while drooling a little and paws at his nose.

“Okay, just figured I would be sure,” he says. “One sec. Hola. Bonjour. Konnichiwa. Hmm… ni hoa? Guten tag?” She still fails to respond to anything, so Cure nods in satisfaction. “Okay, I think we’re in the clear. I only know how to say goodbye in Russian, but one of those woulda gotten a response from them anyhow. Then again, I woulda failed that test too, huh? We’ll just have to wait until she’s six or seven or so and have a serious sit-down with her in case something like what happened to me shows up again.”

“Honey…” Title starts, “do you really think that’s likely?”

“Not unless the princess was down the street blasting magic like when I was born, no. At least, it wasn’t until you asked that question. Way to toss that flag out there, ma.”

Deed chuckles and pokes at her mane with his snout. “C’mon, babe, even I know not to say stuff like that since last time. Hey son, ya ever consider what ya woulda done if you got them memories back and were a filly instead?”

“Ugh… no, not really. I guess it would depend, pa. If I was comfortable being a filly I suppose that’s what I would have been. It’s hard to say, ya know? I can definitely say the idea of another dude’s dude does not sound like a good time to me though. What would you do if you woke up in the morning and your outie became an inny?”

“I know what ya mean, but outie and inny?” he asks with a raised brow.

“Maybe that’s not a thing here. Actually, come to think of it, I’ve never seen anypony with a navel that sticks out. Some humans’ belly buttons kind of poke out instead of being recessed. I don’t even have one anymore, which would probably freak out anypony that scanned me.”

“Ah, speaking of which, champ, that doc ya worked with probably did scan you. Bulwark said she checked ya over when they found ya asleep.”

Cure cringes a little, but ultimately shrugs, “Eh, was gonna happen eventually I guess. She scanned mom, too, and I had a quick talk to warn her beforehoof. At least it happened to somepony that owes me a favor and, as best I can tell, likes me.”

Vines speaks up asking, “Does your horn show up on scans, honey?”

“Yep, definitely. The horn, the bump on my head, the sleeve it slides out of, the raised area between where it rests, etcetera. All of that should show up, but I doubt my bones would show up as unusual. Even though they’re made differently they’re still just bones. They would probably have to analyze a sample to catch that change, not that it matters here.

“She definitely noticed my subdermal armor, redundant cardiovascular system, spiracles, hardened nervous system backup, and probably a half dozen other things, though. The only one that really concerns me is the horn, though. As far as I can tell nopony has even considered the possibility that I can use unicorn magic. It was flattened and segmented, though, so who knows… maybe it just showed up like another weird, unidentified structure. It’s not completely obvious what it is when I have it tucked away.”

“Bulwark gave me a note in case you were too tired to go to school, sport. Maybe you should go see her before they move on to the next town. At the very least you’ll know if your secrets are out there then. Anyhow, if I woke up as a mare I’m pretty sure I’d be at yer bedside beggin ya ta fix me as soon as I finished screamin my head off.”

“Hmm, not the best example. How about this? What would you do if you woke up tomorrow as a mare AND had a whole lifetime of memories being one along with the last twenty some odd years of being a stallion?”

“Oof… okay, yeah, that would definitely muddy the waters. I still can’t imagine it enough to change my answer, though.”

“The correct answer,” Title interrupts, “is you’d have Cure change ya back to a stallion right away. I’d still love you as a mare, but I need my big, strong stallion to stay one, got it?” Cure notices his dam is nodding in agreement behind him.

Savvy seems indifferent, happy to roll around and paw at Cure’s hooves. He notices she’s getting tired, physically, and her muscles are fatigued. That’s not a surprise given that prior to about eight hours ago they’ve never been used. “Hey mom, do you want me rejuvenating her muscles? I can’t think of any reason not to.”

“That’s fine. Is she getting tired already?”

“Yep, also she’s going to go number two here in just a second. I’ll hit her diaper with a Clean when she does, but I don’t think I can do much about the smell for those few seconds, so everypony should turn their senses down to normal.”

“Ya never answered, son.”

“Oh right. Umm, with my current memories I would definitely change myself back to a male. It’s funny; I’m probably the only pony in existence that could actually determine which gets their rocks off harder; dudes or chicks. It was a thing humans would discuss on occasion.”

“There’s spells that can temporarily change somepony’s gender, honey,” Title explains, “but I don’t think they last long enough to produce sperm, and I don’t know what happens to stuff like that when the spell ends.”

“So they still have time to get the ‘experience’ if they want, though, huh? Well, the prevailing thought I heard, which I agree with, is that females can certainly enjoy the act more than males. The main reason being the potential for multiple orgasms. Once dudes finish they may be able to go one, or if they were really in a mood, two or three more times, but that’s the absolute max, at least for an average guy.”

“Honey…” Vines warns with a scowl.

“What? We’re having a serious discussion, dam. I’m not being lewd, just clinical. Jeez. Anyhow, based on my memories for a human, without magic, two was usually the limit. I think there was maybe two or three times ever that round three yielded results and, to be honest, beyond that it was unpleasant to the point that Ed just wanted to be left alone. After that it was time to bust out the BoB.”

At their confused looks he explains, “Battery operated boyfriend. Toys. Vibrators, typically, for clitoral or vaginal stimulation. Sometimes Cyndi got in a mood and really needed a good toe-curler… err… she needed to be satisfied beyond what was probably humanly possible. I mean, maybe there’s a few dudes out there that could throw down like that, but they were the exception. The average female could outlast the average male several times over.”

Cure pauses, watching as Savvy makes the “I’m pooping” face. It’s an expression that transcends world boundaries, he supposes, because it matches Alanna’s almost perfectly. He casts the cleaning cantrip on her and her diaper a few times as the process completes, then chuckles when she looks around confused.

“Aww, where did your poops go, Savvy? Did somepony magic yer poop away?” he coos, getting chuckles from the parents. “No poops for the Savvy girl. Aren’t you lucky, sweet thing?” She loses interest in her rear half pretty quickly, then turns and looks at Title’s nipples with another familiar look. “Looks like it’s chow time again. How are the boobs workin, ma?”

“So far so good. It’s weird actually being able to turn the milk glands on and off, but with the healing, smelling, membranes, and everything else it isn’t that big of a deal. Damned convenient, though,” she acknowledges. “Did you do this for other mares today? Bulwark said some needed help feeding.”

“Nope, the few that weren’t producing enough got a little buff, but they’ll still leak and whatever until their body naturally shuts that down after they stop feeding for a while. I just gave their mammary glands a little helping hoof. Nopony got ‘modified’ today beyond what was necessary to heal.

“We had a set of triplets that needed a little more from me, but almost everypony else was pretty healthy. Foalbirth is not as easy for pegasi and unicorns, though, that’s for sure. I learned that yesterday. There were a few dams that would have needed to be stitched up if I wasn’t there.

“Everypony that came in today got off easy though. Well, except my team and the other Emergency Response ponies. They filled in when we took breaks; mainly going through whoever was waiting and getting them organized. They sent most of the teams to Baltimare to help them at lunch when it became obvious we had it under control.”

“I’m sure having all of those ponies freed up will help the other areas a lot, sweetie. Do you even know where the doctor is staying?”

“Ahh fudge. I do not. I bet they have a hotel in Baltimare for all the staff in the region. I never thought to ask. Oh well, I’ll take the note to school then head over to the clinic in the morning. If they’re going to take me somewhere nearby to lend a hoof I’ll have them send a messenger.”

Cure feels another yawn coming on, so he leans back against his dam’s chest and says he’s going to go clean up.

“I’ll come with you, sweetie. We don’t need you falling asleep in the shower and flooding the house.”

“Alright. I’ll take care of her onesie then I’m going to bed afterwards,” he says as he stands. He learns down and gives his sister a smooch between her ears, then gives his mom and dad a goodnight kiss too.

He is basically bathed by his dam; the hot water on his coat ends up just about knocking him out, and Vines gets to coddle her exhausted baby, washing him, helping him dry, making him brush his teeth even though he insists it’s pointless, and nudging him into his bedroom.

At his insistence she fetched a zipper just long enough for the onesie, so he spends a few minutes making it based on Savvy’s scan, enchanting a crystal, and arranging the runic lines, then climbs into bed.

The last thing he remembers for the night is the warm embrace of his dam holding him against her tummy as he drifts off to sleep.

Chapter 48: A Completely Typical Lunch

Something has gone wrong. We don't seem to have an archived copy of that chapter.

Chapter 49: Supply Run

Tuesday, January 27th, 909 AB (2 days later)

"Can I come?" Rising Pitch asks.

Cure, caught off guard by the request, looks to Dawn for approval.

"Sure, I guess… does anypony else want to?” she asks. “We're just going for enchanting supplies."

"I could use some crystal dust," Ferric Shine quietly mentions.

Cure curiously looks to the dark red filly. "Have you started playing with runic channels already?"

Nodding eagerly she explains, "Yeah, Mr. Angle encouraged me to practice with it. He says there's not any demand around here but told me a lot of the expensive custom orders I’ll do later will require it, so I should start learning now."

"Yeah, I'm sure high end weapons and armor use a ton of the stuff. Mr. Angle is your, uhh, mentor?" Cure asks.

"Master," Ferric corrects, pausing at the cringe on Cure's face.

"Sorry, I don't care much for the term, that’s all," he quietly explains. "Still, that sounds like good advice. Did you want to come or do you want me to grab some for you while I'm there?"

"You don't mind picking some up?"

Scoffing, Cure waves the concern away. “Of course not, Red. Just tell me how much you need. I’ll always do what I can to help, you know that.”

Before he can react she leans over and gives him a grateful nuzzle. “Thanks, Cure! Just one kilogram for now would be great.”

Cure’s pretty sure it’s the first time the larger filly has ever initiated physical contact with him except Hearth’s Warming, so he’s surprised enough that he doesn’t catch himself in time to cut off the resulting blush. He’s not exactly physically attracted to the girl, mainly due to the fact she’s at the far upper end of the ‘muscular female’ scale, but she has a very sweet disposition, and he can’t deny the happy smile she gives him upon seeing his blush makes him feel warm inside.

Returning his blush, the dark filly turns and makes a hasty retreat towards her home, practically skipping as her tail swishes back and forth with every step.

Cure doesn’t realize he’s staring until a scowling unicorn appears directly in front of him, interposing herself between him and their larger friend. Cure can’t help but note that the muscular earth pony has good tone all over, and it’s not his fault that the extra skip in her step caught his eye.

Coughing, Cure looks between Dawn, Rising, and Delta Coast. Dawn looks annoyed, but Rising has a subtle smile on her lips. Coast looks on indifferently. “Right… so… Coast you comin too?” he asks.

“Sure but I gotta run home to let my dam know, drop off my school stuff, and grab some bits. I’ll meet you at the candy store in about half an hour, okay?”

“Same here,” Rising says, “but I’ll just be a few.” That makes sense; she lives a lot closer to downtown, just barely on the outskirts between the city and Sapphire Sprint’s home.

“Sure. You ready to go, Sunrise?”

Rather than answer, she huffs out her snout like an annoyed bull and walks away. He looks to the other two and innocently shrugs, ignoring their snerks and giggles as he turns to follow. The pair make their way to the candy store, greeting Lemon before going upstairs.

The two earth ponies with appointments today should be pretty easy; they’re actually a couple of friends wanting to get some dark fades down their legs, then just a little contouring of their posteriors.

After Savvy’s birth, Title had been doing the paperwork at home instead of going into the office. She tried taking the girl to work with her once, but quickly found that all the energy that foals normally expend first learning to move instead got channeled directly into actually moving, thanks to Cure’s help rejuvenating and strengthening the girl’s muscles. Regardless, with Cure having been doing this job for several months now with no issue he insisted she relax at home and keep Savvy occupied instead of trudging out to keep an eye on him.

When his customers show up Cure takes care of the color enhancements, smoothes out their rears, then gives them the complimentary dental and joint cleanup package he’s more-or-less convinced himself should be part of any package. One of the ladies had some minor sinus irregularities he was able to adjust as well. That earned him a big hug when he told her the reason why she always seemed to catch and keep colds that nopony else did.

Dawn takes up residence on one of the couches while she’s waiting for the ladies to finish. Rising joins her a few minutes later, then once the ladies pay and leave the pair walks around the divider to join Cure.

“Did you just fix their butts?” Rising asks.

“Jeez, RP… patient confidentiality. You know I’m not gonna tell you what I did. I will tell you that most of what I do is fixin teeth and joint issues, though, so ya really oughta bring yer dam over at some point if she has any dental issues or just for a check-up. You know I don’t charge friends and family. Much. Usually. I mean, there are some things they could ask for that I’d… what the hay?”

Cure pauses mid-sentence when he hears heavy hooffalls coming up the stairs. Three sets, if he’s not mistaken. The scent in the air tells him that Lemon is at the front and two unfamiliar mares are behind her.

The girls, seeing his confusion, worry that something is wrong, so Dawn pulls Rising off to the side and hides in the corner near the front of the store, lying in ambush at first. Cure notices and gives her a headshake to tell her it's not necessary, even though he still doesn’t recognize the scents. What’s odd is that one of the mares has a much stronger scent than he normally gets.

“Cure, babe?”

“In here, Lemon,” he calls back. As she rounds the corner he activates a Sound Barrier and quickly asks, “What’s wrong?”

“Oh! No! Nothing’s wrong, exactly. Well, sort of,” she completely fails to clarify. She looks over at Dawn and Rising and tells them, “Hey girls, how about you two go downstairs and help yourselves to a treat. One of my friends has a bit of a medical emergency and needs some privacy.”

“Okay… we’ll be downstairs,” Dawn hesitantly agrees with a nod from Rising. The two make their way around the room divider as Lemon waves the two mares into the room.

“Come on in, Daisy, it’s okay. Cure’s young but he’s a professional.” She realizes they’re not hearing her, so she steps out of the Sound Bubble and repeats herself, escorting the two mares in. Cure recognizes the one right away; it’s the same mare that Amethyst had been chatting with on the park bench several months prior when he was first meeting the girls to run.

“Hey… I remember you,” he softly says as she walks in the room. “I met you back in the park when Amy was watchin the girls play, right?”

“Good memory, colt,” she says with a nod, walking in the room. “I want you to meet my sister. C’mon Rosey, he won’t bite.”

The second mare, a red earth pony appropriately named Rosey, follows behind her, walking strangely. He feels like he recognizes the mare from the first day of births. She just had a son if he remembers right, but that is more of an afterthought right now.

Cure instantly gets a feeling of dread when the mare makes it into the room further. The scent is from her, and from the way the mare is walking funny he comes to an immediate conclusion. Somepony has done something horrible to this mare.

“Cure? Cure, snap outta it,” Lemon calls, shaking him slightly and jolting him out of his angry spiral.

“Did somepony hurt her?” he can’t help but growl out.

The mare immediately lowers her head and sighs out, “Stars damn it,” while Lemon bursts out laughing and Daisy turns away covering a snort. Their reactions throw Cure completely off his game, though, because as far as he can tell there’s not anything even remotely funny about the situation.

“What in the fuck are you laughing about?” he snarls.

“No! Easy there, tiger! She’s okay! I think you might be misunderstanding, son. Nopony hurt her. Well, not intentionally, I guess,” Lemon finishes, barely holding back another laugh.

“Aww, it’s adorable! Look at him!” Daisy yells. “Sweet Celestia, that face! I haven’t seen a look like that ‘cept on a pissed off griffon.” The mare walks over and lays on her barrel to hug Cure, further confusing him, “You are such a little protector, aren’t you? No sweetie, Rosey isn’t hurt exactly. She’s just a bit uncomfortable.” She finishes with a nuzzle and moves back to her sister’s side.

“Uncomfortable? I just healed her like… a week ago when she had her colt. She should be in perfect health." He looks up at his presumptive patient and asks, "Is he okay?”

“Yes, Cure,” Rosey says, finally raising her head. “My son is just fine. My husband and I… we were celebrating,” with a grimace she looks to Lemon. “He’s a colt, Sweets! I can’t even get the words out! I think I’m going to die!”

“Would you rather go to the clinic?” she asks incredulously.

“NO!”

“Then here, let’s make it easy. Can he use his talent on you?”

“Yes! Please!”

“Uhh… okay, would it help to lay down or something?”

“No, I don’t want to move at all.”

Brows furrowed, Cure approaches the mare and puts a hoof on her foreleg, activating his talent.

“What the… Is that a cucumber?” he asks. Lemon almost falls over laughing her head off and Daisy isn't any better, laying on her barrel and pounding the floor while laughing uproariously. The rose mare goes from her normal lighter red color clear through every shade on the scale, blushing dark wine from hooves to eartips and almost tearing up. Cure’s heat sensors trip from the deep blush, making him feel even worse for the poor mare.

He numbs her vaginal canal as best he can and releases her foreleg as he starts nudging the others out of the room. “Alright, enough, you two. Go wait in the lobby or, better yet, go back to work, Lemon. You should be ashamed. I’ve heard of ponies havin stuff like this happen and ignoring it ‘cause they’re too embarrassed to get help. It can get real bad, so get outta here!”

The admonishment works pretty well, especially considering it’s coming from a small foal, and the two shamed mares make their retreat back into the lobby.

“Thank you,” the red mare softly mumbles.

“Look, Rosey?” she nods, “Okay, Rosey, so this isn’t a big deal. We can do this a couple ways. I think the easiest is if I stimulate your muscles just like I did the other day. You remember when I helped you push your son out?”

Rather than answer verbally, she just nods her head.

“Okay, same deal. I’ll contract your muscles and you’ll just push it out, just like a baby. For the record, if you’re going to put things in there, go out and buy something designed just for it. They’re made so this kinda stuff can’t happen, I assume. They’d probably be a lot more enjoyable too. At least, I would hope they are,” he finishes with a shrug.

The odd comment manages to get a snorted out laugh from the mare.

“Here’s what I propose. We both go over to the little attached bathroom. It has a shower stall. You hop in there, I do my thing, I use the cleaning cantrips on you and the f… wait, fruit? Are cucumbers a fruit or a vegetable?”

Rosey looks at him like he’s nuts for getting distracted by something like that right now.

“Whatever it is, fruit I think by the way, we’ll pop the lil fella out, fire off a few cleaning cantrips, I’ll hit the thing with a cutting spell, we’ll flush away the evidence, I’ll heal ya up, and you can go beat the crap outta them once you feel up to it, okay?”

“Okay.”

“Great. Chin up, Rosey, I'm certain you won't be the last pony I hafta do something like this for." With a pitiable look he tells her, "The day will inevitably come when I have to do this again, except for a stallion." That gets a snort from her as he starts leading her to the bathroom.

"You’re not feeling anything ‘cause I numbed the area, so you should be able to walk fine. Don’t worry, you’re not gonna launch it across the room as soon as you take a step or anything, just come right this way.”

By the time Cure had assisted Rosey in her cucumber birthing, which was slightly more difficult than when he helped her with her son, Emerald Aura and Delta Coast had arrived. Lemon had temporarily closed the store while she helped her friend out, assuming “help” is the right word, so the pair had to wait for a moment until she had come back down to let them in.

Cure didn’t have any spells designed specifically to cut, so instead he had to fake it. After giving the cucumber a cleaning, Rosey had, with her ears pinned the whole time, moved it to the channel for the toilet. He’d held up a crystal and pretended to use it while he actually used his talent to dice the offending fruit into small cubes, all of which were quickly flushed away.

Figuring Rosey had more than “paid” enough with her pride, he told her she owed him nothing, explaining repeatedly that, as a general policy, he does not accept payment for purely healing requests. At her insistence he jokingly asked her to explain which part of their transaction was cosmetic in nature.

She finally relented and, with no small amount of shame, left along with her sister. At least, Cure noted, Daisy was no longer teasing her. He wasn’t sure if she simply got it out of her system or if she considered how bad it could be if Rosey hadn’t sought treatment out due to embarrassment like he’d suggested.

Either way he is hopeful his business doesn’t end up being the go-to hot spot for when irretrievable object insertions happen.

He hadn’t talked to his parents about it at all, but perhaps there was a huge, untapped market out there. Literally untapped in this instance. In a world with a five to one female to male ratio there’s potentially hundreds of thousands of mares involved in female-only relationships. He’s certainly not gone hunting for a sex toy store, but neither has he seen any evidence of one yet.

Still, it’s a topic he can discuss with his mom and, maybe, his sire later. Vines would probably be uncomfortable hearing her son ask about mare-on-mare sex toy options, but who knows? She’s okay with the act itself, so a frank and honest discussion should be fine.

Assuming stores would carry his products, it should be a pretty hooves-off and profitable endeavor, but he would want to do it under an LLC instead of BodyWorks, more than likely. Humanity taught him that, no matter how many safety labels something has, some idiot will find a way to hurt themselves.

Cure trots down the stairs to find Emerald and three fillies looking at him apprehensively. They’d no doubt heard the water running and certainly smelled everything, but he can’t fathom why they’re giving him weird looks.

“What?”

“Are you… okay, dear?” Emerald slowly asks.

“Uhh… why wouldn’t I be?”

“We did not inquire as to the nature of the emergency,” she explains, “but we could guess from the… well, odor.”

“Okay, so you all know my policy on confidentiality by now. I’ll just say that whatever reason you suspect she was here, there’s a good possibility that the actual reason is different. She had a legitimate medical issue and the timing was less than optimal. That’s all.”

“Okay,” she says, accepting the only answer she’s going to get. “We were concerned, that’s all.”

“No crime happened, just a… well, situation, with poor timing. It’s all fine. Is everypony ready to head out?”

The group no more than makes it into Early's Odds and Ends before the elderly beige unicorn greets them. Cure had confirmed on his last visit when filling out the order form for his parents' bags that, unlike the "Beakery" this shop is owned by somepony named Early; the older unicorn that had been running the shop each time Cure had stopped by.

He'd suspected that when the dude made the "hoof over the store" quip back when he was doing his Hearth's Warming shopping.

"Well howdy there, Cure Wave. How's my newest favorite customer today? Heya sweetheart! You keepin yer colt outta trouble?"

"Hey Early, ya old crook. Doin alright."
"Hi Early! No muggings this time! So far, I mean."

Rising hikes an eyebrow at the two. "Come here a lot? Wait, muggings?"

"I'll tell you on the train ride home," Dawn says.

"I would like to hear this as well," Emerald adds, scowling at the pair.

Dawn looks up to her dam, ears pinned back, "I thought bro told you and daddy already."

"HA! Way to throw the stallions under the wagon, Dawn," Coast laughs out.

"Sweet Celestia, babe," Cure mumbles, rubbing at his forehead. He looks up at Emerald and assures her, "It wasn't a big deal, Mrs. Aura. A couple jerks tried to stop us on our way back to the train a couple months ago. The idiots never knew what hit 'em. I kinda wonder what happened to 'em tho."

Turning to the older unicorn he says, "I need to put together an order for a mid-high, two scroll books, a fountain pen, and then I'll need about thirty lows and two dozen mid-lows. Hopefully you have mosta that in stock though."

"Damn, son. I knew it was going to be a good day when you walked through that door. I figured you'd be back so I stocked up on mids and mid-lows after your bag order. I’ve got all the lows and mid-lows you should need." He waves to the aisle as he turns towards a locked door. "Go grab whatever I've got sitting out. I'll get a few outta my stockroom."

"How many mids ya got?"

Early looks back over his withers, replying, "Four in the back room."

"Eh, I'll take 'em offa yer hooves. I'm sure I'll find a use for them."

The stallion gives him a nod as he makes his way to the locked storeroom.

"What is all that stuff?" Coast asks as the group starts towards the aisle.

"Crystals," Emerald answers. "At least one rather expensive one if I'm not mistaken. Cure, I assume you brought sufficient funds?"

"I have a certified check for most of it and enough cash for the rest."

"Certified check?"

"Yeah, RP. It's just like a normal check, but the bank is telling whoever gets it that the money is guaranteed by the bank to be there. With normal checks whoever is accepting it has to trust the pony it's coming from because there's no other guarantee." The group pauses outside the aisle with enchanting supplies. "Hey, was there anything you two wanted while we're here?"

"Not really, maybe some drawing pads," Coast answers with an indifferent shrug.
"Mmhmm. I brought a few bits for some reeds."

"Reeds?" Cure asks, turning to Rising. "Like… for a saxophone? Coast, if you want, feel free to go grab yerself whatever you need. I didn't know you liked to draw."

"Stars, I wish I had a saxophone," Rising gushes. "No, I play the clarinet."

Coast looks a little unsure. "You sure you don't mind?"

"He doesn't," Dawn assures her. "He's spending so much on enchanting supplies he wouldn't even notice."

"Yep, get yerself whatever you need, Coast. Really, I don't mind. If you go wild I may have to work ten minutes extra this week, oh no!" he faux complains.

"RP, I don't know how much a sax costs but if you can find one for a few hundred or so just say the word. I can't begin to tell you how ecstatic I would be if I bought ya something and you found your mark while using it. It would be worth way more than a few measly bits, I promise. Don't forget whatever cleaning kit or supplies you'll need too."

The two girls exchange a look and, tails wagging like happy puppies, take off together to see what they can find.

As the three continue towards the enchanting supplies Emerald speaks up. "Cure, I know it is not my place to criticize, but are you certain?"

"What? About them spending a few bits? Absolutely. They would have to try really hard to spend half of what I made in twenty minutes this afternoon and I have a deaging scheduled tomorrow."

"Ah, I see."

Cure pauses for a moment to meet the blue mare's eyes. He doesn't get to speak to her privately very often, so despite Dawn's presence he goes ahead and makes a suggestion. "I already fixed Mr. Haze up with the rest of the guards. I hope you don't take this as some kinda veiled insult or a round-about way to call you old or something, but if you have any aches or pains or whatnot I could make you feel like ya did fifteen years ago."

Holding up a hoof quickly, before she can respond, he adds, "Just consider it. I certainly don't want you to feel like I'm trying to… I dunno, like, make a big deal out of it. Allowing me to use my talent on you takes an awful lot of trust. I'm amazed so many do, in fact. I'm certainly not offended if you aren't completely comfortable with it. I'm not even sure I would be."

When she gives an understanding nod he continues walking.

Cure and Dawn start digging through the available supplies. He grabs several hooffulls of cantrip, twenty lows, the six mid-lows that are out, and four kilograms of dust for himself and Ferric along with a bunch of ink and some more paper. He's planning on including a few extremely high powered shields and attacks with the book for his parents and the more powerful spells take a lot more ink.

"Anything you need, babe? Mrs. Aura, did you need anything?"

"No, thank you, Cure."
"I can't think of anything I need either."

"Alright, let's see what the girls found," he says, making his way back out of the aisle. The trio find the girls standing by the cashier desk. Cure has, on rare occasions, intentionally made his eyes appear larger than normal to really sell the puppy dog look. The girls have somehow pulled it off with terrifying effectiveness despite lacking his talent.

Rising is sat on her haunches. A black instrument case is hugged tight to her chest and belly; one end resting on the floor between her rear hooves, the other resting against her right cheek. She is giving Cure the most soulful, enormous pleading eyes to the point he barks out a laugh when she meets his gaze.

"Oh my stars, Rising, I wish I had a camera for that look," he chuckles. With an exaggerated curious tone he asks, "So, whatchya got there, hmm?"

"It's a saxophone," she answers demurely.

"Nooooo. You don't say."

With an exciting nod she hums, "Mmhmm!"

"Does it make purty noises?"

She gives quick, small nods while smiling.

"Well… what do you think, Dawn?"

"I dunno, Cure. Just the case itself looks pretty fancy. I bet the sax is really expensive. What do you think, dam?"

"I'm afraid I don't know much about instruments. I sincerely hope she intends to at least share her music with you once she becomes proficient."

That gets another excited nod and a few tail swishes out of the girl.

With a deep sigh, Cure reluctantly nods in agreement, "I suppose it would be a crime to deprive the world of that. How about you, Evil Savvy, you ready?"

Coast scrunches her snout at the moniker, mouthing it out. Dawn snorts out a laugh at the reaction and explains, "His sister's colors are opposite of yours."

"I know, but evil? I was here first! Wouldn't that make her the evil twin?"

Gasping, Cure stares at the girl with huge eyes. He keeps gasping. And gasping. Only thanks to his altered biology is he able to gasp for a solid fifteen seconds, drawing worried looks from the girls and nearby patrons. Finally Dawn punches him in the shoulder, scowling at him.

"She … she said Savvy is evil!" he hisses, waving his hoof furiously in her direction. "Heresy!" he declares, thrusting a hoof at the heavens.

Bumping him with a shoulder, Dawn barks a single "Behave!"

Grumbling, he looks back to the blue filly. "Fiiiiine. Did you get everything you need, Demon, err, Delta Coast?"

She gives him a flat look and holds up a drawing kit that looks more like a drafting set to his uneducated eyes along with a few pads.

"Cool. Y'all ready to check out?"

"Uh huh!" Rising eagerly nods. Cure can barely look at the girl without snorting. Her ears are straight up and tracking him everywhere he goes, her eyes are wide with excitement, she’s smiling as big as he’s ever seen anypony smile, and her booty is wiggling just like his dam’s does when the topic of grandfoals comes up.

Delta Coast is still giving him a somewhat deadpan stare, but he can tell from the minute tail twitches, her posture, and the way her ears are perked that she’s excited.

He knows he probably shouldn’t blast money everywhere and it’s somewhat unfair for Heavy, Sapphire, Ferric, and the pegasi duo, but he figures at some point he’ll be hanging out with them and have an opportunity to even the score. Besides, he truly meant what he said; few things would make him happier than learning he helped one of his friends on the path towards their destiny.

As the last customer in front of them finishes their transaction, Early looks over the group and, upon seeing the two girls, especially Rising, can’t hold back a chuckle. “Well it looks like you found everything alright, didn’chya son?”

“Yup. Go ahead and pass that stuff up to Mr. Moneybags over here, ladies. Look away, though, I don’t think you’re prepared to witness the carnage that’s about to happen.”

“Carnage?” Coast asks.

Dawn leans over and quietly whispers in her ear. “He’s talking about the bill.”

“Did… we spend too much?” Rising quietly responds, suddenly looking worried.

“No, you two didn’t,” the orange filly reassures them. “He’s ordering a few really expensive things, though.”

“How expensive?” Rising asks.

“Umm… Well three of the things he’s ordering are five grand apiece, the mids are over twenty five hundred, then there’s a couple thousand or so of the lower tier crystals, plus all the supplies and stuff.”

“That’s over twenty thousand bits!” Delta Coast hisses.

“I told you he wouldn’t even notice your stuff.”

Rising is borderline hyperventilating. Coast looks on flabbergasted as Cure passes over the check and tosses another seven coins on the desk. She knows the smaller ones are hundred bit coins, something she’s only seen occasionally, but the bigger ones? She’s never seen those in her life. She knows thousand bit coins exist, but who carries that kind of cash around?

“But how?!” Coast manages to get out.

“How what?” Dawn whispers, rubbing Rising’s back with a hoof to try to calm her down.

“How can he afford that?”

Dawn rolls her eyes with a scoff. “He makes that in a few weeks, Coast.”

Emerald leans down between the three and whispers, “Dawn, honey, not the place.”

Dawn cringes remembering the last time they left and were accosted. It’s not exactly a bad memory since everything happened so quickly, but Solar is not with them this time, so their options to deal with a problem, should somepony be planning something, are less than perfect.

Cure, she is aware, is fully capable of handling anypony dumb and unlucky enough to try anything, likely well before they would have time to realize their mistake. The downside is that it would certainly involve him showing off capabilities he doesn’t want to answer questions about and would rather keep between the two of them.

Also, with some of the offhoof comments he has made over the months, she worries a little about exactly what would happen if anypony succeeded in hurting one of his friends. She knows that, as easy as it is for him to heal, it's even easier to do the opposite. Breaking something is always easier than fixing it.

She is thus far unaware of his scan and the resulting capabilities from griffons, though. That, Cure is concerned, may make ponies uncomfortable for a couple reasons. First off, it is “non-pony” in origin. Drift and Glacial took a few minutes to warm up to hands; claws are far more intimidating. Though the ponies of Equestria have, thus far, been far more accepting of other creatures than he expected he knows there’s a limit to that.

Some of the acceptance is likely due to Golden Hills and Baltimare’s location compared to Ponyville. Being only a few kilometers from the coast and having one of the largest trading ports in the nation certainly has increased exposure to, and therefore acceptance of, other creatures compared to the more central small town. Having a pony with legitimate non-pony capabilities is a slightly different story.

The other major concern in regards to griffon’s telekinetic field is the purpose of it. While there is some utility in being able to sharpen a claw there aren’t a lot of reasons to do so. Puncture and slicing wounds are bloody and visibly far more gruesome than blunt force ones. Granted, blunt force does a lot of ugly work internally and can be visible beyond a certain point, but they lack the level of obvious violence that a bloody, gaping wound would.

Dawn is pulled out of her musing as Cure finishes the transaction. “Alright, son, you should expect the order to show up in about a week and a half. Are ya sure you don’t need express shipping?”

“Nah, not this time, Early. Hey while I’m here, I started offering a service a couple months back that you and the dozens of wives ya have should consider,” he says, reaching into his bag.

Hoofing over a pricing list for the services he offers, he taps down towards the bottom while saying, “Now I’m sure most of your ladies are far too young to take advantage, but ya oughta consider sending the three or four that have stuck by yer side for a few decades my way when you come to make an appointment yourself. Who knows, Early, maybe there’s another dozen ladies out there you could turn into honest mares once we get that pep back in yer step.”

“Dozen wives my tail, son. Is this legit?”

“It treats the symptoms, so you’ll feel like twenty five again, but I haven’t quite cracked the secret to the real thing yet. I’ll tell ya what, Early. Most ponies pay up front, but you and the missus come, I’ll do one of ya, if you’re not happy with the results you just walk right on out. If ya are, then maybe I’ll finally make back a few of the bits I keep shellin out here.”

Early looks down at the sheet in thought for a moment, then nods. “Sounds good to me, son. I’ll ask the boss,” he winks, “and see what she thinks. How far out are ya booking?”

“For my favorite shopkeeper? You just pick a Saturday and if I hafta work a little late for ya then so be it.”

“Hah! That sounds great, Cure. We may come see ya soon, alright?”

“Sounds good, boss. Take care,” Cure says, packing away his purchases and hoofing the girls’ back to them. He pauses when they get near the exit of the store. “Umm, Dawn, or Mrs. Aura… would one of you mind wearin my pack? Ya know, just in case?”

“Sure,” Dawn instantly agrees while Emerald asks, “In case?”

“Right,” he says, unclasping his bag as Dawn adjusts the straps and levitates them over her withers. “In case I need to, ya know… deal with anypony stopping us again. Hey Coast, RP, you two wanna come over for dinner too?”

“I need to let my dam know,” Coast says. Rising voices a similar concern right afterwards.

“Here, think of her and send a quick message,” he tells Rising as he reaches into the pack Dawn is carrying and passes a mid-low crystal over. “It has to be brief. Like ‘Dam, using messaging spell crystal. Having dinner with Cure. Will be home after,’ okay? The long range spell Mr. Haze gave me uses a lot of magic. Coast, is it okay if we just stop by your place? You’re on the way, after all.”

“Sure,” she agrees as she watches her friend.

Rising doesn’t say the words out loud, but everypony smirks as she mouths them while concentrating on the crystal. When she’s done she looks at Cure and asks, “How do you know if it worked?”

“Umm… I guess we can’t for sure unless we stop by. That’s why I bought so many mid-low gems though. A dozen are for the guard, but the others are for you two, the gang, and my parents."

“What about Dawn?” Coast asks.

“I can cast the spell, once I learn it.”

“Huh, I guess I forgot how complex it is. Well, it's not like I don't have plenty of crystals to spare at home too. We'll get you one of them so you can just recharge it.”

“How did you enchant a crystal already?” Emerald asks, “Gleaming just gave you that diagram on Sunday.”

Looking around briefly, Cure opts to get moving first. “Eh, I’ll show ya at my house. I have a neat trick for memorization and makin these things.” Reaching out, he takes the Sending crystal from Rising and, holding it, concentrates on his mom.

<< Confirm this works. In Baltimare. Four additions for dinner. Send confirmation to Rising Pitch. >>

“There, I sent a message to my mom and told her to send something to you, Rising, so if…” he pauses as her eyes open wide, “I’m guessing you just got it?”

“Yep! She says she got your message. I guess my dam probably did too then.”

“I can’t imagine it worked on one and not the other. If anypony else needs to send a message it has enough juice for another few sentences. Mrs. Aura, do you need to let Mr. Haze know anything?”

“No, dear, but I could recharge that for you while we walk.”

“Nah, I’m gonna burn off the rest and use it to dump my magic in so I can keep regenerating. That’s what the boss lady suggested, after all,” he explains as he begins walking out the door. “She said there’s only two ways she knows of to expand capacity. Use magic and… hrm… how to phrase it? Follow your destiny, I guess.”

“Boss lady?” Coast asks as they start down the street.

“Lemon Sweet?” Rising asks, face full of confusion. “You don’t work for her though… Are you talking about one of the guards? I know you mentioned a bat pony sergeant.”

“Song. Sgt. Song, and no. Don’t worry about it. I’ll tell y’all tomorrow when we go for our run. It’ll be a nice surprise for everypony. I woulda told ya last week, but with the births and all…” he trails off with a shrug.

The group makes it to the train unmolested, much to Cure and Dawn’s relief. Once they’re seated on the train Dawn shares the tale of their last adventure while getting enchanting supplies, giving the modified Cure-venom-free version.

Dinner was pleasant, but Cure could tell the girls’ minds were otherwise occupied, and not only because of the fake evil goatee he snuck onto Savvy when his mom looked away. He figures they’re both dying to get home and play with their new purchases, but didn’t want to appear rude after he spent a few hundred bits on them. Truthfully he didn’t mind at all. They’re foals with new toys; not wanting to play with them would be weird.

Cure makes note of the fact that the family will need a bigger table. The current one is fine most of the time, but there’s only room for one, maybe two more foals or a single adult. Cure was happy to sit next to Dawn to the left of his normal spot and Emerald seemed plenty content to sit by Title and have the opportunity to fawn over Savvy, but another body or two will definitely take up all the room available; especially if the boss lady decides to drop in on a lark again.

After dinner the group tried to convince Rising to play them something, but she turned several shades of red at the suggestion and explained that she couldn’t possibly play a new instrument in front of an audience.

The curiosity about the colt evidently got to Emerald, so once she was done helping clean up she and Dawn flopped onto a guest mat while the other two fillies stole his. Title entertained Savvy with some big colored letter blocks Cure made and Vines climbed on Deed's withers from his right side.

Cure rushes up to his room and comes back down with his "Spell Scanner" plant, setting it up to face her and the girls with his parents and sister behind him. "So this started off as a branch offa the maple out back," he starts, pointing approximately to said tree.

"Mom," pausing, his ears dip, "who is definitely smarter than me-" he continues despite her giggling and enthusiastic nod, "suggested that I leverage an aspect of my talent, so after removing a layer of wood from the tree I affixed it to the branch, basically making a plant notebook of sorts."

He lays a hoof against the branch as he explains, "Like this spell," he shows the diagram for the EMT skeletal system diagnostic spell, impressing the fillies who might as well be looking at gibberish, "which is for bones, I can scan ponies and find problems, though I see everything, and I remember it. Perfectly."

"You have eidetic memory?!" Emerald yells in shock.

"Yep. Ma, you okay with me showing Savvy's scans?"

"Sure, babe, go ahead."

He trots over to his bag, grabs an Illusion crystal, and just as he'd done for the attorneys in Canterlot, projects scan after scan starting from the day after he got his mark up to her most current one this morning.

Next he shows a zoomed in, detailed scan of Solar's knees the very first time they'd met. "I don't think he'd mind; there's your son's knees that first time we went jogging."

"That's fascinating… I've not seen images projected in detail like this."

"Oh, that's nothing," he says, changing the scan to show the lungs of a mare he'd seen at the clinic with pneumonia. "This patient had aspirated on her breakfast after a night of drinking. Her marefriend, bless her heart, wanted to surprise her with breakfast in bed and somehow she had a piece of pancake go down the wrong tube. Probably was eating on her side or back. Don't do that, girls. Head and neck upright when yer eating, okay?" he insists, getting vigorous nods in return.

"This fella smoked his whole life," he starts, projecting a pony's heart. "It contributed to plaque buildup, in particular right here," the image zooms in on the aortic valve, "and if he didn't happen to come in for a work-required physical while I was at the clinic… Well, timing is everything, right?

"Once Nurse Gentle got the go ahead from Dr. Night I had him drink a few liters of water while pushing that crap through his system. I had to keep a hoof on him while he peed straight… I dunno, it came out like a freaking gel almost… like pudding or-"

"Oh my stars, Cure! Stop!" Coast yells, ears covered by her hooves and eyes pinched shut. Rising has buried her head under her hooves, covering her ears. Both fillies look a little ill, and Dawn isn't doing much better. Vines and Deed had looked away early on, but Emerald and Title are both enthralled by the unique images that, very likely, nopony has ever seen in such detail.

"Whoops! Sorry girls. Heh… got a little off topic. So anyhow, yeah, I can memorize anything I scan. Those formulas we scanned at the Baltimare library helped me ace the math part of my early graduation test, for example."

"Isn't that cheating?" Rising asks.

"Why would it be?"

"You didn't actually… memorize… wait, does that count?"

"He has it memorized, one way or the other," Title points out. "If a pony's talent was just memorizing things it would be fine, so same thing here."

"I guess…" the yellow filly relents.

"Have you heard anything back about your talent, Mrs. Aura?"

"No, dear, I just sent the message this morning. I'm sure they will want to test the limits and such before doing anything."

"Ah. True, I've had to give a few demonstrations too."

"Hey Cure?" Coast calls out.

"Hm?"

"What are the limits on your talent?"

"How do you mean?"

"Like… what can't you do?"

"Nonbiological and metaphysical."

"Huh?"

"I can't mess with anything that's inorganic, at least not directly. So… a rock. I can't just change it. I could swallow it and break it down like we do food and use the bits, but I can't directly do anything with my talent on it. Same deal with magic. I can't just give myself more magic because there's not a part of our body that stores it."

"Oh."

"What about the cosmetic things though?" Rising asks. "You gave those mares big, round plots today."

"He made that one look fifty years younger a few months back," Coast reminds her. "Drift said you gave her a massage with hands like a minotaur too.”

“What?!” Dawn snaps out.

Deed leans close to Vines and mumbles, “Uh oh. Colt’s gonna get it.”

Apparently only the words Drift and massage registered at first because Dawn’s brows furrow and her expression goes back to normal. “Wait, what? Hands?”

“Uhh, so yeah, I told you we talked on New Year’s Day, ya know… I told you we kinda got in an argument.”

“I know. On Hearth’s Warming Eve. How do you go from arguing to a massage and when did you scan something with hands?”

“Honey,” Emerald hesitates, looking at Rising and Coast, “this seems more like a private conversation.”

“It’s not a big deal,” Cure insists, holding up a hoof, “if you’re squeamish you may not wanna watch, but basically I deaden the nerves in the limb,” he pauses to see if anypony looks away. The girls look nervous so he adds, “this doesn’t hurt at all, so don’t freak out. Anyhow, I temporarily cut off feeling, shift the keratin in the hoof wall up above the fetlock.”

Rising starts to turn away, but seems to force herself back as the hoof essentially liquifies and runs up his leg, “then I rearrange and move the internal bones starting with the fetlock joint. I haven’t scanned a minotaur, so I can’t replicate that model. Instead I happened upon an opossum and some racoons in the woods, and between them and larger cats I can improvise a little bit and come up with a reasonable facsimile.

“I know minotaurs have one less finger, but theirs are thicker. That gives them more strength in each one, but this allows for a lot more dexterity. If I needed strength instead I’d probably just replicate a claw or maybe like mandibles or something,” he finishes with a shrug, waving his now finished hand to the crowd.

Cure smiles to himself at the way all three parents’ focus goes to the hand. He’d turned all three of them into drooling messes the night after Glacial and Drift had left and a few times since. They’re great for playing with Savvy too, who bats at them like a kitten would.

Dawn is the first one to approach and look over the foreign looking limb with Emerald following right behind her.

“Were you just curious, Cure? It seems very odd to suddenly do this unless there was a specific reason.” She lays on her barrel and reaches for his hand, then pauses and asks, “Sorry dear. May I? I’ve only ever met a few minotaurs.”

“Sure, go ahead. So anyhow, I had just come back from a run in the woods-”

Dawn interrupts to ask, “The one where you jumped on that private?”

“Jumped on a private? A guard?” Coast asks as she and Rising both approach for a better look while Emerald continues playing with the appendage, apparently fascinated by the dexterity of the fingers.

Cure nods along explaining, “Private Bolt. Yellow unicorn, kinda slimmer. He’s one of the ones I go to the gym with. I was out there runnin around hoppin from tree to tree and-”

Coast interrupts this time, “What? Hopping from tree to tree?”

“Yeah… RP remember when I had you ‘grab’ the ground so Drift couldn’t budge you after the Running of the Leaves thing?” At her “Yeah” he continues, “You can grab vertical surfaces too and, if you’re strong enough, which you both definitely are, walk right up a wall or whatever. Don’t grab it by the bark, though, you gotta reach down through the bark and get a hold of the actual trunk.

“Also, don’t do it indoors. You can mess up walls or ceilings by doing that. Keep in mind you still weigh whatever you weigh, so it’ll be that much force divided by whatever area you have on the surface. I have a repair crystal somewhere, but best to avoid all that mess.”

Title is giggling at the way Cure is being bombarded with questions and, cute as it is, the way Savvy is giggling along adds another layer of mockery to the whole thing. A quick scowl in his mom’s direction doesn’t seem to help either as she shoots him an innocent smile back.

“So anyhow,” Cure starts, then stops as Emerald rubs a cheek over his hand. It’s weird in a human environment, of course, but with hooves and a TK field the cheek is the main tactile feedback spot. All three parents are suppressing snickers and giggles now at how his brain does a complete reboot afterwards. A part of his brain is screaming “Yay! Petting zoo!” while the rest is happily pointing out that he’s petting his sorta-girlfriend’s mom’s face.

“Watch out, Mrs. Aura, these things are deadly weapons,” he teases. She gives the hand another look and shoots him a questioning brow. “Come here, Dawn. I’d feel weird scritchin yer mom’s ear.”

“Scritching?” she asks as she leans in closer and turns her head slightly to the right towards the other two girls.

“Yep. Check this out, ladies,” he says as he gently massages from the base of her left ear to the top, a motion that causes a full-body shiver to go through the girl before she subconsciously steps forward and leans into his chest, moaning in bliss.

Cure looks at Emerald and says, “See why I said I would feel awkward? It’s bad enough on somepony my own age.” Motioning over his shoulder to his giggling parents he adds, “Don’t let their laughing fool you. Not one survived more than a couple minutes of a hoof massage with these things. I wonder if minotaurs know they could take over the whole friggin country this way.”

“Dawn, sweetie? I think that’s enough, honey,” Emerald says, pulling her daughter off of Cure, causing the filly to whine and stumble back into her dam. “I appreciate the warning, Cure. I did not expect that kind of response.”

“Yeah, ears are a sensitive spot for ponies. Lotsa little nerves there. She’d be down and out in ten seconds if I did that to the base of her horn.” He waves the hand to Rising and Coast next. “Do either of you want a try?”

Coast steps forward first insisting he only get her for a moment. After witnessing Dawn’s reaction she fares much better, but still struggles to pull away after only a few seconds. “You should offer that at your business, Cure. It does feel nice,” she agrees as Rising steps forward and, more or less, repeats Dawn’s performance until he stops after a few seconds.

“I’ve considered it but there’s a few problems.”

“He would need somewhere to put everypony after they fall asleep,” Title points out as the girls all retreat back to their mats.

“That felt really nice,” Rising sedately mumbles, snuggling against Coast’s side.

“You’d probably need a buncha them sound crystals too, champ. I’m not sure Lemon would appreciate all the moanin and whatnot.”

“Yep, those and a couple other issues. Massages take time if you’re doing them right. Thirty minutes is probably about the fastest I could do a full body one, and nopony would survive that long. I’m also not sure how much I would charge. I mean… you’ve seen my price list. Why would I spend thirty minutes on a massage for a hundred bits when I can deage somepony in the same time for twenty five times as much?”

“You could do it between other ponies, sweetie. You’re right though; it probably wouldn’t be worth your time.”

“My thoughts too, dam. My regeneration is getting to the point that I can just do the procedure slowly and be okay. By summer I could probably work a full shift and, aside from being mentally exhausted, the only major concern I would have is running out of customers eventually. Or at least, running out of ones willing to pay what I’m asking.”

“Have you tried like… making wings or anything?” Coast asks. “If you can do that based on a cat, racoon, and opossum then couldn’t you do the same thing from the pegasi or the birds you’ve scanned?”

“I could, but pegasi can only get off the ground because they can reduce their mass,” he explains. “That would also take a lot of moving muscles around. Pegasi flight muscles wrap all the way around to their chest; they’re not all in their back. The chest muscles are what pulls the wings downward, so they’re the main muscles for gettin off the ground.”

“What about a horn?” Emerald asks. “I’m curious whether you could use a horn, given you have an active ability as a special talent. You certainly know how to channel magic outwardly otherwise you would be unable to recharge crystals.”

A look of pure panic crosses Dawn’s face, and it’s only because she’s laying against her dam’s side that Emerald doesn’t immediately know something is up. Cure can feel his parents shift slightly behind him through his heat sensors, but they must have maintained straight faces somehow.

“Honestly, Mrs. Aura, I’m more than a little afraid of how the higher-ups would react to me of all ponies being able to use unicorn magic.”

With a look of confusion Emerald follows up, asking, “Why would anypony be worried about you specifically?”

“They already are,” Vines explains. “Because he has a talent that’s a restricted class of magic, your husband and the other sergeants in town had to write a report for the captain over Baltimare and for Her Highness.”

“The princess has a report about you?!” Rising shouts.

Cure hesitates, looking over his shoulder at his parents. His sire and mom both give nods. Vines doesn’t react, but looks unsure.

He turns back and takes a deep breath, then explains, “Princess Celestia came over for dinner Saturday evening after the first day I helped with the births. She literally showed up at that door,” he motions to the front door, “right as we sat down to eat, then joined us for dinner and stuck around to talk afterwards.”

Rising erupts in an explosion of questions but Coast is apparently not buying it. “There’s no way,” she insists, shaking her head.

“Remember I mentioned the boss lady earlier?” he asks. “That’s who I meant.”

Emerald corroborates Cure’s story. “He’s telling the truth. Gleaming was made aware of it afterwards. She observed Cure working with one of the Emergency Response teams at Town Hall, spoke to a few ponies there, and came here shortly after Cure left for the day.”

Cure spends a few minutes answering the multitude of “what did you talk about” and “what was she like” and gives a brief rundown of his royal visit before he requests that the girls don’t spread the word.

“Please, please don’t tell anypony. Everypony loses their mind when it comes to the princess, so if anypony finds out I’ll have everypony digging into my business, and you all know by now I’m not trying to draw a ton of attention. That’s what I was gonna tell everypony tomorrow. She invited us all to stop by the castle when we go to Canterlot for the Wonderbolts thing.”

Delta Coast bursts out in tears right there on the spot, drawing confused looks from the other two fillies and Emerald.

Vines doesn’t hesitate a second to climb off of Deed to run over and snuggle on the girl. “No need for that, sweetie. Even if you’re afraid of heights you can still go to the capital.”

“Yeah, Coast, that’s what I was gonna say next. You, Saph, Ferric, and Heavy. Y’all can come with even if you don’t go to the Wonderbolts show.”

“Really?!” she asks, still dripping snot. Emerald floats a tissue from out of her pack over to the girl who takes it with a “thanks” and wipes off her face. Vines gives her another quick nuzzle and rejoins Deed, climbing back up onto his withers.

“Of course. I just need to find out if everypony can go with us. My sire’s going to play chaperone for the show but my dam and mom are coming too. Just, again, don’t tell anypony, okay? I was going to suggest you all come with just to visit the capital and leave the whole castle visit thing as a big surprise for everypony. I’d still like to do that for the others.”

Unsurprisingly, both enthusiastically agree to keep quiet. Dawn had known about everything since a couple nights after it happened. While the filly was frustrated and upset there was simply nopony to blame. At least she had the upcoming visit in May to look forward to, which was probably the only thing that prevented her from crying just like Coast had.

Emerald glances out a window and notes that sunset is fast approaching. It’s not late at all, but the sun sets shortly after six o’clock, and most ponies are usually in for the night at that point. Unicorns can stay out later since they have built-in flashlights, but there are few of those in town, so most are still home early due to there being few earth ponies and pegasi keeping businesses open late.

With the promise of an eventual solo performance from Rising and another round of reassurances they’ll remain silent, Emerald departs with her daughter and the other two, leaving Cure with his parents and sister.

“So… I guess earth ponies are good enough for ya after all, eh, champ?” his sire teases.

“First off, I’ve made no attempt to court anypony except maybe Glacial, if you even consider that ‘courting’. All I really did was flirt a bit ‘cause I think she’s pretty. Speaking of pretty fillies,” he says as he starts crawling to his sister. “How’s the pretty Savvy baby? Hmm?” Nuzzling into her little mane tuft, he gets the curious girl’s attention. She happily rears up and latches to his snout, gurgling and making little “ba” noises between giggles.

“I think she needs to eat a bit more, ma. She’s burnin through more energy than a normal foal ‘cause I’m helpin her muscles so much. You’re gonna be in for a fun time when those two are born, dam.”

“I can’t wait, sweetie,” the green mare beams.

“Hey, do any of you know a good photographer or printer or something? I think I need to make some brochures for my business.”

“Why would ya need brochures, son? Seems to me you’re busy enough as it is.”

“Eh… I was thinkin of some kinda pamphlet or something I could leave at stores. I teased Early about comin by for a deaging with his wife, or wives I guess… I don’t know if he’s only got one. Anyhow, the only thing I had to give him was the price list on one of my forms. I’m thinkin some before and after pictures with cutie marks and faces obscured may be a good idea.”

“Don’t worry about that for now, Cure,” his mom insists. “You’re doing plenty of business, so unless you start seeing a slowdown it’s not worth the money to do all that. Besides, couldn’t you use an Illusion crystal and basically trace the pictures just as well?”

“I could but… I dunno, is ‘a picture is worth a thousand words’ a saying here?”

“Not a saying, exactly, but I’ve heard similar things. Maybe when photography becomes more widespread you’ll hear stuff like that more.”

“Maybe,” he agrees, wrapping his hand around Savvy’s back and rolling over. He quickly changes his left hoof to a hand too and, with Savvy straddling his neck and her booty on his chest he pets down the girl’s back to her dam’s joy and slight envy. She’s still wearing her silk onesie, but the material is thin and light enough that, aside from the crystal’s location on her back, she gets almost the full effect.

“Uh oh. I better quit or she’ll fall asleep. She’s still gotta eat, right?”

“Eh, she can nap for a little bit first. If she gets hungry she’ll let ya know.”

“Good enough. It looks like we have a little time before she needs a potty break, so I’ll start faking those ‘I gotta pee signals’ soon so she, hopefully, lets you know.”

“Yeah, hopefully that works, but the Cleaning crystals make the whole foal rearing thing a cinch anyhow.”

“No doubt there, champ. I remember what a nightmare changin yer diaper used to be.”

Vines shoots a look at Deed from above, giving him a light punch with a hoof. “YOU remember? You ducked out every time he went potty and made me change his diapers.”

“I changed his diaper a buncha times!” Deed insists defensively.

“Only when I wasn’t there! I started wondering if you had some kind of sense for when it was coming eventually!” Looking back to Cure she continues in a huff, “He’d lay on his back and hold you up in the air, waving you around like you’re flying. You’d be perfectly fine forever, then he’d pass you back to me and not ten seconds later you turn purple and are messing all over the place.”

“Umm… Sorry?”

“Oh please, I know it’s nopony’s fault, but it drove me absolutely crazy!”

“Maybe I just felt more comfortable around you, dam. No offense, dad, but I bet I was just around dam more with you workin and all.”

Deed just waves the issue away.

“I suppose that could be it,” Vines agrees with a sigh.

Title nods along. “I bet it was.” She glances her husband’s direction from the corner of her eye and sagely declares, “Everypony wants to feel comfy when they’re doin the-”

“Don’t you dare!” Deed shouts. “I swear if’n I had a bit every time I heard that one I’d already have that mansion in the sky.”

“Yeesh, sensitive there, babe?”

“I heard that line plenty growin up,” he pouts. “You start that and you won’t be doin this Deed anytime soon, I tell ya!”

Scoffing, she responds, “Oh please. You’ll be beggin for it before the weekend.”

“That there’s what we call TMI, Savvy,” Cure explains in a silly, overly cheerful tone. “Ponies are gross and horny all the time. Maybe it won’t be as bad for you since exposed hoo-ha’s and wieners floppin all over the place will be what you grow up with, but try having forty some odd years of memories without naked crotches everywhere. Mhmm, you try that!”

Savvy, ignorant of the topic at hoof, giggles along and rolls around on her brother’s chest.

Cure lets out a big sigh. “So… I ordered a couple scroll books and a mid-high tier crystal today. Oh hey! Did we hear back from Violet yet, ma?”

“Not yet. I expect we will soon, though. Don’t forget, your great grandsire took a while to reply too.”

“True.”

“How’s business goin since you’re doing it alone, honey?” Vines asks. “Nopony is giving you a hard time are they?”

“Ehh… no, but I kinda yelled at Lemon today. She wasn’t being a very good friend. Then again, she’s not the only guilty one. Right as I was about to leave after I finished my customers she brought up a friend and her friend’s sister. This is one of those confidential things,” he adds with a serious tone. “The friend’s sister and her husband were evidently doin a little foreplay prepping for the main event.”

“Umm… you sure, son?”

“What? That it was before? Yes, very. I can tell when someone’s gotten laid for like… at least five or six days after, dad.” Both of his moms’ ears droop. “Oh come on, you’re all married. I told ya before, I consider myself incredibly lucky to have been born into a loving family. Y’all can get yer swerve on five times a day for all I care, as long as you’re keepin it behind closed doors and clean up afterwards then I’m happy for ya.”

“Weird,” Title quietly mumbles.

“Anyhow,” Cure continues, “so the husband musta thought, for Harmony knows what reason, that a cucumber was a good foreplay instrument. Well, it got… uhh… lost.” His mom and sire snort out a laugh, but Vines just colors slightly red. “It’s funny in a way, I’ll grant, but it’s very not funny from a health standpoint. I heard of that happening to women and they can go into sepsis. A friend of Cyndi’s accidentally left a tampon in she thought she’d pulled out and she ended up havin to go to the ER because of it.”

Title tilts her head curiously at the unfamiliar word. “Tampon?”

“Remember I told you that human females bleed each month? Tampons are an absorbent stick, basically, that they can put in near the opening to catch blood and not ruin their clothes.”

“Ah. Humans sound kinda gross, babe.”

“Yeah, I’ve told you about body odor before. You have no idea how bad it can be. So anyhow, Lemon brought these two mares up and when she had me scan the one both Lemon and the sister cracked up like it was the funniest thing ever. I don’t know how long she and her husband tried to get that cucumber out, but judging from the lack of moisture and the irritation it was a while.

“I felt awful for the poor thing and ended up yellin at Lemon and the sister a little before I threw them out and helped the mare out. Nothing gross, I just helped her muscles like she was giving birth. It kind made me think, though. I know we talked about BoBs a week ago. Ya know? Battery Operated Boyfriends? This chick had me kinda wondering if that’s something that is readily available for ponies.”

“Wait a second, son… you went from helpin a mare push a cucumber outta her thing to wonderin if mares can get their hooves on sex toys?”

“Oh my stars,” Vines mutters while Title giggles.

“Oh come on, dad. VUH-JINE-UH," he slowly sounds out. "It's a body part, not a curse word. You're a big pony, you can say vagina."

"Whatever," he huffs out, rolling his eyes.

"Anyhow, I told her if she’s gonna use somethin for that to get something made just for it so this doesn't happen again.”

The two lose it at the suggestion. Vines covers her face with a fetlock while Deed laughs his head off. Once Title stops laughing she explains, “First off, you’re too young for that. I get why Lemon brought her, but… yeesh. Talk about no good options.”

“Yeah, she really didn’t want to go to the clinic. I have no idea what they would do. Speculum and forceps I assume.”

“Oof. Okay, yeah. Still, even in your ‘health professional’ mode that’s a little weird, honey. Think about it… how many eight year old colts would even know such a thing exists?”

Cure thinks for a few seconds before doing an upside-down nod. “I guess. I could probably make an argument for being aware of healthy sex topics due to my mark, but you’re right. Still, the sex toy industry was a huge, and I mean huge money maker for humans. Does it even exist here?”

Despite her dark blush Vines speaks up first. “I’ve heard of toys in magazines that can be ordered. They’re very expensive.”

“Yeah,” his mom agrees, “I don’t know of anywhere to go in and buy them, but there’s probably at least one store in Baltimare. If there’s one here it must be a secret or something.”

“That’s weird. Ponies are usually a fair amount more liberal than humans when it comes to sex. With the whole five to one gender imbalance I would expect a large and prolific sex toy trade. Hell, early human ones were made of polished wood or animal bones. You could become a millionaire sellin that stuff.”

“You’re not selling sex toys, Cure!” Vines growls.

“I wasn’t gonna, dam.”

“Oh. Good.”

“I bet Lemon or Amy could though.”

Deed and Title burst out laughing again. Defeated, Vines just sighs.

“No, I’m being serious here. I could make a basic toy and they could be sold with a prestidigitation crystal for cleaning and warming. It could have internal muscles like a horn and,” he glances at his sire, “other things to make it vibrate. I bet I could make it ‘turn on’ with a twist motion and get energy from sugar or something.”

Vines nods along and points out, “That screams biomanipulator, Cure.”

“... damn, it does. Well, I could still shape it out of wood or ivory and do everything else, but we would need an energy source that doesn’t point directly at me. I still don't know the 'power' spell some appliances use to draw from crystals. Of course, if Lemon or Amy are running the business it wouldn’t be hard for anypony to figure out.”

“How about we focus on the other ideas ya got, son? When are you gonna stop spendin all yer bits on enchantin stuff and start savin for that property idea ya had?”

“The rest of this quarter. I got two books; one for you and one for Solar. I’ll get mom one when she’s going back to work. When we move I’ll be adding a security system to the new house, so we won’t need anything at home.”

Title raises an eyebrow and looks at Cure. “Dare I ask?”

“Umm… Well, I was thinking of having a plant, kind of.”

“Kind of?”

“Yeah. Like, with the central stalk in the basement.”

“Like… a pony eating plant, son?” Deed teases.

“No, just a plant with vines. That run through the walls. And a neural interface. And runic diagrams. And unicorn horns, additional eyes for targeting, and maybe a few melee and ranged weapon options. Possibly some venoms and projectile weaponry too.”

All three parents stare deadpanned at the still upside-down colt.

“I take home security very seriously," he solemnly declares.

“You don’t say?” the pink mare teases.

“Dad said it best. A stallion’s home is his castle. Honestly, if we ever need it you’ll all be thankin the stars it’s there, and if we don’t then, oh well. We’re out a few days worth of magic. With dam’s help it’ll be easy to put together, I bet."

The parents share a look but still seem unconvinced.

"Look at it this way," Cure begins, "if something were to happen and this plant prevents one of you or my siblings from being hurt it'll save her highness the trouble of putting the country back together when I go to find whoever is responsible."

"That's a good point," Title agrees. "I think it's a great idea, honey. You do whatever you think you need to do to protect your little sisters and brother, okay?" Cure gives her an upside down smile and a nod.

“Son, if we ever need that then we’re gonna have some real uncomfortable questions to answer afterwards.”

“Yeah, but you’ll be there to answer them. Besides, if we ever have to go on the run we’ll be fine. I could bargain for a pardon or whatever if push came to shove anyhow. You saw how the boss lady reacted when I mentioned the whole aging thing. I’m already keepin an eye out for ‘minders’ to start following me. Either that or a new, foal-oriented business suddenly opening near Lemon’s shop.”

All three parents give him quizzical looks.

“You know, some somepony will be nearby that can keep an eye on me. I’ve said it all along; I’m a potential threat. Of course, I’m also a huge potential asset. I’m kinda surprised she didn’t insist I come to live at the castle immediately. She probably only didn’t because of whatever psyche profile they’ve built saying I would refuse.”

Title asks, “You think they would open a business nearby just to keep an eye on you?”

“Absolutely. It doesn’t have to just be for that. This is just an example, mind you, but maybe a new hobby shop opens nearby that, oh wow,” he exaggeratedly widens his eyes, “lookie there, they sell enchanting supplies!”

With a scoff he adds, “What a coincidence. I mean, it would be more subtle than that. Maybe a new pony or a couple just happen to move into town and they happen to get a job nearby or something. Maybe even move into a house nearby. Who knows?”

“Sweetie, would that be so bad? If Her Highness thinks you’re valuable and wants to ensure you’re protected then what’s wrong with that?”

“Nothing if that’s all it is. In fact, I would probably welcome the extra security as long as they aren’t followin me around. I’d prefer they keep an eye on you all, though. Anypony with enough knowledge about what a biomanipulator can do would probably be smart enough not to directly go after one anyhow. They would go after the ponies I care about instead.”

“Good point, son. Just ta be safe, and so I don’t hafta worry when I’m workin, how about you put that message spell in a few of those crystals and set yer moms up like ya did me.”

“You’re getting one too!” Vines insists.

“I bought enough for all of ya. I could also give you all both the retractable and internal horns I have if you want. You’ll be able to Shield, Send, Teleport, Slow Fall, and Message, which is just a shorter range, less expensive version of Send. The retractable horns won’t be as good as mine though. Since you can’t use my talent they need to be smaller and they’ll be a little slower deploying. The segments gotta fuse, ya know?”

“They can still cast everything, right?”

“You bet, ma. Given how small our magic pools are you probably couldn’t burn them out either. Somepony that's a real battlemage like Arcane Blast would. Even Solar or Haze probably could, but you guys only have like a fifth of their magic, so running should always be your first choice once you get a message off.”

“Give ‘em the crystals for now too, son. I want them to have that extra magic in case they needed it. They can carry the crystals and, in an emergency, fire off a message with the internal horn."

“True. Okay, sure. I need to make a set of cantrips and a onesie for Heavy anyhow. I told him I would after we ran when he was complaining about changing his sister’s diapers.” Cure looks down at his snoozing sister and gives her one last pet, then gently lifts her up off his chest. The TK field combined with having hands is fantastic. He’s able to lift her enough to slide his fingers under her and not disturb her at all.

Gently setting her by her dam’s tummy, he gives her a quick kiss and goes to the pile of crystals, deploying his horn and getting started.

“Alright… so six mid-low shields, six Sending, and twenty short range low tier Message crystals for Bulwark’s troops. Three mid Sendings for you all. Two Cleaning and a Warming for Heavy. Eight mid-low Sending for my friends. Ugh. Thank Harmony for this quicker casting horn.”

“Hey babe?” Title asks. “I can help you if you can add the spells to the ganglion you gave me. Or, here’s something I’ve been wondering if you can do. Have you tried using multiple horns yet? Like, at the same time?”

“I have. It takes more experience to pull off than I have right now. Not the physical vibration part, the correctly feeding magic part. For this it’s viable because I’m doing the exact same thing multiple times at the same time. For something like… I dunno, casting a firebolt and a shield at once? Yes, I could learn to do it, but it would just take practice. Maybe Dawn and I should start going to the range again.”

“Who would you go with, though? I don’t think Emerald and Haze would be okay with just the two of you going alone.”

Sighing, Cure thinks it over for a moment. With no answer forthcoming he shrugs and says, “The only thing I can think to suggest, which I’m not prepared to do right now, is letting her parents in on the secret. As nice as Mrs. Aura has been, I don't think I would trust her with that, and Mr. Haze is an oathbound guard, not to mention second in command here. Then again he did keep quiet about the whole ‘venom sneeze’ thing.”

“Ehh… I dunno, son. You acted in defense of his foals there. I think it’d be a different story otherwise.”

“I don’t like all these secrets,” Vines complains. “I don’t know why you didn’t just tell Her Highness about everything you can do. She obviously knows you’re a good pony, sweetie. Do you still think you can’t trust her?”

Cure takes a moment to think about why he didn’t speak up when he had the opportunity. By all accounts the meeting went as well as it could have. She was exactly like what he’d expected based on the cartoon. He can’t think of a single legitimate reason why telling the princess he can do unicorn magic would be a bad thing.

As good of a teacher Violet Jewel may be, assuming she’s even willing, there’s not a pony in the world who could compete with Celestia. Probably. There is the possibility that she has gotten rusty over the years, so she may be out of practice as far as the practical side is concerned.

For theory and breadth of knowledge the simple fact she’s had thousands, potentially, of years to learn means that even in a given decade she just picks up a few pointers, by the thousand year mark she would have had more tidbits of information than a dedicated scholar could likely ever piece together.

That doesn’t even include the fact that, if memory serves, she directly studied under one of, if not the greatest magic users of all time.

“Uhh… honestly, I never even considered telling her what I can do.” Cure looks to his mom and sire and asks, “Can you think of any reason at all not to tell the princess about everything? I'm holding off on the future events thing until I know her better, but the rest?”

“I… don’t think so?” Deed answers. “Aside from insistin we all move ta Canterlot so you can be her student.”

“Yeah, I see that as the most likely outcome. Mom, you got anything?”

“Not really,” she answers with a shrug. “I feel like maybe that’s something you don’t throw out on a first meeting, though. Like you said; once she knows, she knows. Well it’s probably not necessary, but I worry she may feel like you need closer tabs kept on you, perhaps.”

Wrinkling her snout in thought, Title mulls it over for a moment, tilting her head back and forth in thought. “I bet you’re right. She’d want you in Canterlot, probably so she could teach you, if that’s what she meant. Is there a reason you don’t want to go right now? I mean… it would be a pain to uproot and move, but there’s not a lot stopping us. We’d be closer to my parents. I bet they would like that.”

“Would Lemon and Amy be willing to move?” Cure asks. “I hadn’t thought about it, but Lemon is kind of established here with her shop. Maybe we need to have a conversation with them too.”

“Oof, hadn’t considered that, champ. I think that may be a problem.”

“I don’t know if Lemon would want to move,” Vines agrees. “If they do ask to join our families we would certainly have to address that.”

“Well… let’s table that line of thought for now,” Cure suggests. “I’m definitely of the opinion that the princess would be cool with me having access to unicorn magic and, maybe even whatever the hay she’s doing. I bet she would want to get to know me better before sharing the latter, though. Especially if it’s an open-ended kind of thing. You don’t just hoof over that kind of power to somepony until you know for sure they’re not going to abuse it.”

“I dunno, Cure. I’m pretty sure if you were actively trying to be evil not knowing that wouldn’t slow you down much.”

“Ehh… that may not be true. If it’s something that operates largely on the metaphysical side it could almost be like a hard counter to me.”

With a raised brow Title questioningly repeats the term. “Hard counter?”

“Ah, another term that doesn’t translate. Water to fire,” he offers as an example. “A hard counter is something that completely counters another thing, whatever it is you’re talking about. Maybe not completely completely, but you get the gist of it.”

“Gotchya.”

“Yeah, so if metaphysical abilities are my weakest point I can see the princess hesitating to share something that would patch that hole in my armor up. Not because she doesn’t mistrust me, though. There’s a point where anypony would say, ‘That’s too much power for one pony!’ and they wouldn’t be really wrong either. Hell, I’m way past that point already. I don’t have a good reason to need that knowledge, at least not for a long time. I hope.”

A brief quiet settles onto the family, soon broken by Cure again. “So yeah, anyhow, I don’t think I can trust Haze and Emerald to that point yet. Mature as I may act,” he shoots a scowl at Title’s coughed out “ahem mostly” before continuing, “most of the time,” he emphasizes, earning an innocent smile from the pink mare.

“I still think that they would worry and, likely, send word up the line. I would really rather wait until I’m a little older to make a big life change like that. Right now I wanna live my life, learn some stuff, and build up my business and my accounts so I can screw off and do whatever when I’m an adult. I’d like to spend more time working on healing solutions that don’t require my direct intervention, though.”

“Like your medical gel or the bacta tank idea, sweetie?”

“Exactly, dam. You remember when we met Dr. Care and Mrs. Hire? The HR pony that I helped with her horn?”

“Mmhmm.”

“She said somewhere around twelve percent of ponies have some kind of disability. In Baltimare alone that’s like… what, seventy two hundred ponies? That doesn’t even count ER visits due to whatever. If I could see each condition just one time I could either create a complete one-shot solution or, more likely, have a different solution designed for each class of problem.

“One for cardiac, another for pulmonary, neurological, another for the various organs, skin issues, etcetera. The only challenge I have is properly visualizing what I’m trying to make, but if I just break it down into parts I’m sure I can come up with something for each issue.”

“I remember you talking about that once, sweetie. You said medical research is where you could make the biggest difference.”

“Exactly. Imagine how long it would take me to see seventy two hundred ponies. It’s not an impossible number, but you’re looking at… I dunno. One every twenty minutes is twenty four hundred hours. That’s five quarters working full time, roughly. I mean, that’s actually not bad in the grand scheme of things, but that’s just one city.”

“Yeah,” Title agrees, “If you could make something that would just address each problem by itself you could spend that same amount of time and fix it everywhere, basically all at once.”

“Right, and there’s going to be a lot of overlap, I bet. Hell, just making a synthetic blood that’s a universal donor would save thousands and I could probably do that in five minutes.” After blurting out that statement, Cure facehooves and mumbles to himself, “Why the hell haven’t I done that?!”

“Well it sounds like ya got yer first project, son. Maybe ya oughta talk to them executives about this. I’m sure the ponies that got themselves workin horns and wings sounds great and all, but you’ve helped a hooffull of ponies when ya could be doin a lot more with less.”

“Frick. Yeah. Okay. I’ll start working on something. Once I have a starting point I'll send Mrs. Gale a message and see if I can’t arrange another meeting. God… how many ponies have died in the last three months because they didn’t have blood for a transfusion?!”

“None,” Title answers. “Ponies give blood plenty, sweetie. You’ll be making it a lot easier, but I seriously doubt anypony died because of this. And don’t start questioning all the other things you can think of and how many could have been saved. That’s not your responsibility exclusively. Got it?”

“Right. You’re right, mom.” Cure lets out another sigh, which is then followed by a yawn. “Dang it, I coulda had most of these done by now. Alright. No more distractions!”

Chapter 50: Communication

Wednesday, January 28th, 909 AB (the next evening)

“Alright, good run, everypony! If you all have about fifteen minutes free I have a few things for you all back at my house. I’ll try not to keep you for more than a few and I think you’ll all be pleasantly surprised. C’mon,” he calls, waving towards his home, “sunset’s already fast approaching and all.”

The group had continued doing their runs most Saturday and Wednesday evenings, though at this point everypony was fit enough that it was really just an excuse for Cure to hang out with everypony and for them all to get out and burn some energy. There were a few nights that had to be skipped around the holidays, but they were the exception.

Cure enjoyed having all of his friends together, especially since he didn’t get to see Drift and Glacial in particular very often. He still went to school with all of the others in the morning, but they flew to a pegasus-only school in Baltimare every day instead of attending one of the local Golden Hills schoolhouses. The main problem, of course, is that aside from asking a favor from another pegasus or sending a message through the mail, there hasn’t been a way to reach out to the girls until recently.

As he turns to lead the group back, Coast trots up to his side, brushing against his left shoulder. “Did Dawn already get the crystals done?”

“Yep. That’s why she came with me after school today. She did that while I took care of my customers.”

Sort of true, at least. Cure had done almost everything last night and kept the crystals in his bags at school so he could charge them over the course of the day. Dawn did a couple and took the ones she is selling to the Guard back to their house for her sire to look over and, officially, take possession of before the 30 day grace period on their fourth quarter 908 budget expires.

The Guard had spent a couple hundred bits on a number of scrolls for training purposes and to equip their flyers with invisibility and stun. The plan, pending Bulwark’s approval, is for the remaining 908Q4 budgeted amount and some of 909Q1 to be used on the twenty low Message crystals (short range, line of sight), six mid-low Shield crystals (for unicorns entering an unknown situation), and another six mid-low Sending crystals (about twelve kilometers, no line of sight required short message).

The low crystals cost him fifteen bits and the mid-low are a hundred and fifty, so all told that’s twenty one hundred bits worth of raw material. The stipulated price for enchanted crystals adds another third on, so the total bill for the Guard will be twenty eight hundred bits.

Cure would get, in his opinion, fleeced on the income tax, so he instead sells the materials to Dawn and she sells the finished product to the Guard. In the end she’ll make seven hundred bits, which is still in the 0% tax rate category. The whole thing is legal because all he is doing, basically, is loaning her the upfront capitol until she is paid.

Last time when he did this with scrolls he didn’t collect bits from Dawn and Solar just so they would have a few hundred between them. He ended up not being able to claim the expenses on his taxes, though, because that’s illegal tax evasion. You can’t claim the cost of goods sold if they’re not sold, but instead given away so somepony in a lower tax bracket can sell them instead.

He won’t be able to this time either, but he’s also not actually spending anything. At least, not technically. And with bureaucrats, technically correct is the most important type of correct.

The majority of the expense will come from the Guard’s mostly unused 908Q4 miscellaneous equipment budget while the rest will be reimbursed from their 909Q1 one, so although Cure would be perfectly fine donating everything outright, this way the guards still have their shields and messaging crystals and his friend can make a decent chunk of bits to save for a rainy day.

“Did the deaging go alright?” Rising asks. Cure hopes the girl isn’t feeling like she needs to be extra friendly to him since he’s been spending a lot of bits on her. She seemed to go out of her way to stay closer to him during their run and was now sticking almost shoulder-to-shoulder with him on the way back to his house. It’s one thing if she’s truly interested in a relationship because she likes him, but the thought that she feels she owes him one and has to be extra nice is not something he cares for.

Dawn is on her right side, opposite him, and judging from the way she’s looking at the yellow filly, has noticed the same thing. Cure isn’t exactly sure how to handle the situation. His moms both insist that it’s something the fillies need to work out eventually, but he doesn’t want it to fester and get ugly eventually. Both girls are only a half year older than he is, so even though they’re nine now that’s still at least five years too young to have any idea how a real lasting relationship might work.

Cure hopes this insecurity that Dawn is showing lessens somewhat over time as she matures. Loath as he is to do so, he’s inclined to follow his moms’ advice for now and hope that the two girls can have a frank and honest discussion and come to an agreement. As long as they don’t start legitimately fighting he has no reason to step between them right now.

Given he wouldn’t truly be dating anypony for years there’s just no urgency. Of course, Glacial also has shown an interest and, from what he gathers, she and Drift are a pair of some kind, so the situation isn’t likely to get less complicated anytime soon.

“Oh yeah, it went great. Of course I’m not so sure I really could have one go wrong on me. The vast majority of what I’m doing there is surface level stuff. Sure I gotta pay attention when I’m doing the dental, vision, and other internal stuff but I have enough healthy scans to compare to that most of it is… I dunno, like muscle memory almost. How’s the sax?”

“Sax?” Sapphire asks from behind them. “A saxophone? I thought you played the clarinet. When did you get a sax?”

“Last night,” she answers without looking over her withers, avoiding looking back so none of the others see her light blush. It doesn’t work, of course, thanks to the sharp pegasus eyes.

“Why are you blushing?” Glacial asks, genuinely curious.

Blush deepening, she turns facing away from Cure and admits, “Cure bought it when we went to the hobby store.” Brushing a shoulder against him again she adds, “It sounds amazing! I can’t wait until I get better with it.”

“Awesome. I look forward to hearin what you can do with it.” Cure, in an attempt to provide context, explains, “Dawn and I needed to get some supplies for her to enchant crystals to sell to the Guard. Mrs. Aura took us all to Baltimare. RP and Coast came along and, when she mentioned she wanted a sax, I told her to go ahead and grab one. Coast got some spiffy drawing stuff too. I was already spending a fortune on crystals, so a few extra bits were no big deal.”

Finished with the explanation as they approach the house, he opens the door and calls back, “Everypony tap the Cleaning crystal to the right when you go in, please. It’ll get rid of any mud in your hooves and clean off any gross sweat. I’ll clean up the water later, so don’t worry about that.”

As everypony piles in he grabs a few guest mats and lays them out . The moms are playing with Savvy on Title’s cushion. The sweet thing is nommin on Teddy’s ear right now. Cure would be worried she could bite it off if it were a normal toy, but the molecular level bonded silk mesh it’s made of could probably stop a bullet from penetrating, so the filly should be safe chewing away. Baby herbivore teeth aren’t exactly the best cutting instruments anyhow.

Deed is on his own cushion off to the side drawing. He’s so focused on his hobby, he barely glances over, just pausing a second to call out a quick, “Heya everypony,” before continuing.

Ferric is on the leftmost mat with Sapphire leaning against her sister’s right side and Heavy sandwiching the aqua filly on her right. Rising and Coast take the center mat, and the pegasi all pile onto the third, Drift laying between Glacial and her sister on her left and right respectively.

“So, I have a few things for everypony,” Cure starts, grabbing a bag off the hook and walking around to face the group. He opens it and starts passing out the mid-low Sending crystals with a fanny pack, of sorts, to each of his friends. Wind Shear isn’t exactly a friend, per se, but as far as Cure is concerned he’d rather piss away a hundred and fifty bits than cause strife between the sisters or hurt the girl’s feelings.

“Alright, the little zipper pouch thing is so that, if you’re out without saddlebags, you can still have a couple crystals or even some bits on you. I sized them to go around your foreleg at the thigh and colored them to match your coats and I added a couple for your,” he motions to the pegasi, “suits’ colors, which I should have added pockets onto.

“As for the crystals, those are all enchanted with Sending. That’ll send a short message up to about twelve kilometers. You will only get a few sentences out of a charge. I can almost fully charge one; Dawn can do like three or so because she’s a big showoff,” he teases, sticking his tongue out at the smugly smiling filly.

She takes over the description while Cure gives out the last few. “You don’t have to speak aloud when using it. Just think about who you’re sending the message to and then send it through the crystal. Keep it brief and to the point. Don’t use complete sentences, and unless they have a crystal too they won’t be able to respond.”

“Right,” he agrees and continues, “The best way to use it will be to arrange meetings because you won’t get enough words for a whole conversation. If you’re sending the message to somepony unaware, be sure to add ‘Using message crystal’ so they don’t think they’re imagining it. The pony receiving the message will know it’s from you. It’s some weird metaphysical thing I haven’t figured out, which is becoming increasingly frustrating.”

“They work,” Rising assures everypony. “I was able to send my dam a message from Baltimare.”

“Yep. I wouldn’t trust them much further, but they’re useful if you have an emergency too. Heavy, I also have several Cleaning cantrips and a onesie with Warming for your sister. I can resize it as she grows.”

“Oh neat! Thanks, Cure. I didn’t know you could resize stuff with magic.”

“Yeah, it turns out I’m kind of a moron,” he says with a chuckle. “Those suits I got you,” he explains, motioning to the pegasi, “they’re made of silk. Do you know what silk normally is made from?”

When both girls shake their heads no Dawn cuts in. “My dam told me about it. They make silk from some kinda worm somehow. It sounds gross,” she adds when both fillies get a funny look, “but they’re completely sanitary, so don’t let that bother you. It’s no worse than getting wool from sheep.”

“She’s right,” he continues. “Boiled worm cocoons, by the way. The important part I didn’t think about when I had those made is that silk is an organic compound. I can manipulate it and reshape it. Savvy’s plushies are made out of it,” he explains, pointing a hoof at the happy foal.

“So is his,” Title shouts from her cushion with a snicker.

All the girls giggle and look questioningly at Cure.

“You actually made yourself a snuggle toy?” Glacial asks. Her parents got her one for Hearth’s Warming and, before he blew up on them, Cure had mentioned he’d like one too.

Unabashedly Cure nods and declares, “You bet I did. I have my very own Snuggling Vines for when the real one is forced to pay attention to the other stallion in the house.” Vines, from beside Title, beams in joy at her son and can’t help but wiggle against her wife.

Deed just scoffs and mutters, “Other nothin. Brat.” while otherwise ignoring him.

“I thought you said our suits are made of something like… dragline?” Drift asks, turning to Glacial, who nods back and finishes the sentence, “dragline spider silk.”

“Yep. Much tougher stuff,” he agrees. “I only used the best materials on those and Dawn’s coat and pajamas,” he proudly beams. “I actually transmuted that silk with magic, you literally can not buy higher quality silk, at least as far as I know. That also means as you grow I can resize it or change its color patterns, which is a happy accident.”

Cure’s pretty happy with the excited look the girls give him. It doesn’t escape his notice that some of the others are looking a little jealous, so maybe he can even the score at some point to prevent any issues from coming up. A nice set of silk PJs or sheets and a cleaning crystal for everypony should placate them.

“Focus, Cure,” Dawn insists, giving him a poke with her hoof when he drifts off in thought.

“Right, right. I have another announcement for everypony, especially those who were not coming for the Wonderbolts show. I would like to keep the ‘why’ a surprise, but I highly, highly recommend you consider coming with us even if you aren’t going to the show. I think you may regret staying behind. My sire is still gonna chaperone us to the Wonderbolts show, but my moms are coming too, so we won’t all have to be at the same place the whole time.”

“What about train tickets and stuff?” Wind asks.

“I’ll take care of everything. Transportation, food, lodging, and I’ll even set everypony up with a few bits for memorabilia or whatever. Just curious, Wind, but how far can a pegasus fly before needing a break?”

“A hundred or so kilometers if they’re in good shape. Some with bigger wings can go farther. I’ve heard of a few that can glide almost forever, but supposedly they have some griffon ancestors.”

“Sissy’s right. Some of the messenger ponies the military has can go all the way to Canterlot in a few hours.”

“Huh. Interesting. We should meet up sometime and have y’all practice with different wing shapes to see if one works better for you. Or just adjust your wing sizes if that helps and you’re interested.”

The three, wide-eyed, shout in unison while jumping to their hooves. ”WHAT?!?”

Everypony else, including Savvy, stops what they’re doing to look at the trio with their wings straight up off their backs. The sweet girl starts to tear up, but is distracted by Vines, thankfully, waving a GloWorm toy Cure made after hearing Haze call Dawn glowbug at lunch with Solar.

With no plastics available Cure used a thin, but tough, sheet of chitin-like material for the face and body and covered it in a plush orange silk onesie with a red sleeping hat. A softly glowing Light crystal inside it provides the light.

Under the unhappy scowl of an overly protective brother they all calm down and apologize to the parents and everypony else.

“Yes, I can change your wings. I’ve scanned dozens of birds, bats, bugs, and a griffon, so if you want to experiment some day just stop by or shoot me a message. Sunday morning works best. Big changes will eat a lot of my magic up, so keep in mind I can’t go completely wild.”

“Could you grow wings too?” Glacial asks. The idea apparently excites Drift too, judging by her eager expression.

“I… could, yes. I haven’t tried.”

“You can give yourself wings?” Wind slowly asks. “I’m surprised you haven’t tried flying yet. You seemed fine when you came to the cloud district, so I’m guessing you’re okay with heights.”

“I have no freaking clue how to fly, and I had a Slow Fall crystal on me then. I’d probably break my neck if I could even get off the ground.”

“I wanna see you with wings!” Drift shouts.

A round of me too’s goes around the room before Cure finally shrugs. “Fine! Jeez.”

“Uhh, hey sport, you sure that’s a good idea?”

“Yeah, nothing will happen,” he assures his sire, dissolving all of the horn-like structures on and in his body. “Y’all may not wanna watch, though. I’m not sure how this’ll look.”

“Sit down and face away,” Coast yells. “I’ve been curious since you said you could do this last night!”

“When?” Ferric asks. “After you went shopping?”

Cure follows Coast’s instructions and yells out, “I’m starting! Look away if you’re squeamish!” The only one that does is Heavy; something Cure finds amusing.

“Mmhmm. Mrs. Aura asked if he could grow a horn too. He’s worried about how ponies will react though.”

Drift scoffs at the suggestion, “They can just be jealous. Wait, would that make you an alicorn if you have wings and a horn and are already an earth pony?”

Everypony continues the conversation while watching Cure closely. First he has to form the underlying muscles and bone structures, so aside from some movement under the skin there’s not much happening. Really for the first part he should have faced them. The chest area is where he’s starting, after all.

“No. Physically, yes, but the princess also has everypony’s magic,” Dawn answers. “Cure wouldn’t have pegasus magic abilities. So he’d be an alicorn, sort of, but not like the princess.”

After a few seconds of silence Rising asks, “What about a unicorn’s magic?”

Coast jumps in too. “Yeah, your dam made it sound like he could use a horn since his talent already uses magic.”

“There’s ponies that have earth pony magic and a horn,” Ferric points out. “In fact my dam said there was an article in the paper about some medical trials to help the ones that can’t use their horn right.”

Focused on what he’s doing, Cure barely pays attention to the conversation. “Alright, the internals are done. I’m going to start actually pushing the wings out now.”

Glacial nods to Ferric. “Daddy said he heard about a pegasus mare in Baltimare that lost her wing getting it regrown somehow.”

“Really?” Wind asks. Looking at Cure she continues, “Didn’t you tell me that you could heal a wing like that back when Dawn’s sire and the sergeant were first gonna run with us?”

“Umm… yes.” He pauses his work to look over his withers. The wings he’s growing are just starting to truly form and, while anatomically correct, are still tiny. The internal structures are covered by skin and a fine layer of fur so everypony isn’t grossed out, but there’s no feathers yet.

“Ooo! Looks like Cure’s been buuusy!” Sapphire sings out with a giggle.

“Damn it all,” he curses under his breath. More loudly he shouts, “Look, y’all can’t tell anypony! Drift, you saw what happened when I changed your wing pattern!”

At everypony’s questioning look she explains, “A bunch of mares surrounded his house trying to get him to do their wings. It was right before he opened his business.”

“Exactly!” he agrees in a raised voice. “I can disguise myself, though, so what’ll happen if everypony finds out that you all know the ‘miracle healing’ colt, hmm?”

“You think they’d follow us around?” Rising asks.

He nods, answering, “Do you think they wouldn’t?!”

“They totally would,” Drift agrees. “Those look small. Make ‘em bigger and add feathers. Do a neat pattern!” she enthusiastically demands.

Her sister nods in agreement. “Yeah, most ponies are idiots. They would go insane again if they knew you could change wing shapes.”

“Yep!” Sapphire agrees, “I bet they’d scream like morons and scare foals and everything!” she cheerily shouts while grinning.

“You should offer that as a service at your business!” Glacial suggests. “Charge a lot, though. Pegasi would pay a fortune to have bigger wings,” she admits with a blush. Drift nods in agreement.

The room falls silent as he nearly finishes with the changes.

Cure finishes forming the wings, holding them up and off of his body. Drift demands he enlarges them further, so he plays along. They look intimidating, but slightly ridiculous on a small colt. Including his broad back, his total wingspan is over three meters, using all but a few percent of his fat reserves.

Next he locks a pattern in mind; that of the gold and blue macaw, one of which he scanned at the zoo. The back of the wings have a green and blue fade similar to his original mane and coat colors. For the inside of the wings and his chest and belly he sticks to the theme and goes with a brilliant gold, just like the original. Rather than giving himself tail feathers like an actual bird, he extends the color through his tail and keeps hooves instead of talons.

He looks over the results and nods in approval, turning to face the group at a slight sideways angle, he flares the wings up and out, presenting the inside to the group. Between the brilliant colors, the proportionally enormous wings, the reduced fat reserves, increased apparent muscle definition, and the light oil sheen he adds, the effect is astounding.

His mom is the only one that manages to get words out. “By Celestia’s flowing mane, Cure. What in the fudge are you doing?!” she asks, motioning to the group, all of whom are staring wide-eyed with their mouths hanging open.

With a modified set of vocal cords he chirps out “pretty bird!” and folds his wings down on his back while laughing. They’re long enough they don’t sit right like a pegasus’ would. A normal pegasus’ wings go from their upper back to their shoulder then back to their haunches. The disproportionally large wings go all the way forward to his chest and then trail back clear past his rear, covering almost his entire side.

“Tartarus, Cure. You can’t go outside like that!” Wind yells.

“That chest…” Ferric sighs, getting nods from everypony. Even Heavy is nodding along, though he, to Cure’s slight relief, isn’t giving him the same enthralled look as the girls.

“Fiiine!” he yells, flaring his wings again while mimicking the flowing fire glow pattern he’d given Dawn for Nightmare Night. “There we go, much more subtle!” he says with a smirk, getting disapproving looks from his parents.

Taking the hint, Cure changes his colors back to his typical pony pattern and looks at the group. “Is that better?” He gets a combination of nods and no head shakes that he’s not sure how to interpret. With a smirk he writes “Wing Upgrades: 3000 bits at BodyWorks!” under one in black-on-gold print and extends the wing up. “How about I give you a set like this for free to drum up business, Wind?”

“Shit yes. For a set of wings like that I don’t mind at all.”

Vines shoots that down right away. “You’re not using your friends for advertising, Cure.”

“Oh please, like I was serious,” he starts, dismissively waving a wing. “Huh, was that the right gesture?” he asks. When Wind nods he shrugs. “Weird. Y’all must be rubbing off on me. These things are kinda nice though,” he comments, idly giving them a test flap, lifting off, and slamming headfirst straight into the ceiling before crashing back down into the floor, landing on his rear, then falling flat on his back.

Cure can only sigh in disappointment at his own stupidity as everypony shouts and jumps to their hooves. “Of course, something had to go wrong,” he mutters as Dawn’s aura wraps around him and lifts him to his hooves, setting him beside his worried dam who had rushed over. “I’m fine, dam,” he insists, giving her chest a nuzzle. Belatedly, he adds “Physically, at least. I think my pride cushioned the blow.”

Vines gives him a quick look-over but, as expected, he’s uninjured. Sighing as she returns to her cushion the questions start pouring in again.

Looking towards his parents he realizes a questioning brow and tilts his head at the group. Vines and Deed instantly nod but Title winces and, more hesitantly, gives him a slight nod.

“Ugh… okay, so you all know I’m kind of a paranoid nut about my talent, right?”

The whole group, save Wind Shear, immediately nods and voices enthusiastic agreements.

“Jeez… y’all don’t have to agree so fast,” he complains with a scowl. “The truth is… there’s not a whole lot I can’t do.”

Before he can get another sentence in the whole room erupts in questions. Flaring his wings out huge again he calls over the group, silencing everypony, “C’mon everypony, one thing I can’t do is answer ten questions per second.”

Once the foals all calm down he continues, “So, basically, some of the things that we and, I’m pretty sure, other creatures of the world can do, are not magic. Or you could maybe call them a kind of magic, but they have a physical source. Does everypony know what cells are?”

Unsurprisingly, almost all of them shake their heads no.

“Alright, super duper simplified version; every living creature is made of tiny parts called cells. They’re microscopic and there’s more in a single pony than you can imagine. There’s different kinds of cells for every different thing. Blood cells, bone cells, eye cells, so forth and so on. Almost every cell in our body has one particular part. That part is what gives us some of our abilities.

“In earth ponies it makes our grabbing field strong. Unicorns’ power their magic spells. Pegasi seem to get a lot from theirs; reduced weight, cold and lightning resistance, and a weaker version of our grabbing field. Much weaker, from what I’ve seen… like a third maybe? Anyhow, I can duplicate those abilities, but I can not duplicate the ones that require magic like weather and whatever else pegasi can do.

“We all have some of each type of cell, but in our muscles, for whatever reason, we’ll have the ones that kind of define our tribe. Again, I’m keeping this basic, but over months I can change a pony so that an earth pony,” he taps his chest, “can have working wings, for example. Apparently. I did not expect THAT,” he waves behind himself, “in case it wasn’t obvious.” Which is a true statement. Cure didn’t expect the act of actually flapping the wings to kick the aura on without his conscious instruction to do so.

“Far beyond the worry about healing, this is one of the things I’ve been worried would get me snatched up by somepony. Or, cause some kind of inter-tribal issue somehow.”

Coast doubtfully asks, “Inter-tribal issue? How?”

“Ladies?” he asks, looking at the three pegasi, “Do you think there are pegasi that would get mad if a bunch of earth ponies or unicorns suddenly had working wings?”

“Uhh… maybe?” Glacial hesitantly answers. “Or maybe they would be excited to teach other ponies how to fly.”

Scoffing, Drift shakes her head no. “No they wouldn’t. They would be pissed that other tribes are doing what only they could do. Even if other ponies couldn’t do the weather jobs I bet they would see it as somepony else taking their stuff. Skies would be a lot more crowded and way more ponies may want to live where we do now.”

“I doubt it,” Coast replies. “I wouldn’t want wings even if they did work. I think most earth ponies would say the same thing. I don’t know about unicorns.”

“Probably the same,” Dawn answers. “I know my dam would never want wings. I don’t think my sire would either. Maybe Solar, but I’m not sure if he would fly enough that he would even bother learning how to. Most unicorns never try learning any real magic and we can all do that from birth. How hard is flying?”

“When you’re first learning? Very. Once you’ve got it you’ll never forget though,” Glacial explains. “Still, there’s a lot of stuff you have to learn about wing positions, air movement, and stuff like that. Not every pegasus likes flying a whole bunch, that’s why you still see some on trains and walking.”

“Huh… hadn’t considered that,” Cure admits. “I guess my mindset’s just different. Probably because my talent is all about making changes. I was totally fine with those spider legs on Nightmare Night, for example.”

Ferric, somehow, turns almost white as she recoils back, gasping loudly and silencing the room.

“Jeez, Red, calm down. Just cause they were a tad more realistic than they looked didn’t mean I was ready to tie ya up and eat ya.” Cure chooses to ignore Wind’s snorted laugh at the accidentally suggestive comment.

“Wait, those legs were real?” Heavy asks.

“Eh, sort of. They didn’t work like a real spider’s would. Everything below the chitin was pony. It’s a good thing I have earth pony strength. They were too skinny to work right without it.”

“Can you actually make webbing though?”

Before Cure can answer, Drift’s wings shoot up. “Tell me those suits didn’t come out of your butt!”

Everypony gawks for a second until the whole room erupts in laughter.

“Webs don’t come out of spiders’ butts, Drift,” Heavy slowly explains. “They have spinnerets.”

“Yep, see?” Cure agrees, quickly replicating Vines’ hoof spinnerets and pulling a strand of silk off. A nice benefit of having wings is that it’s much easier to sit straight up on his booty, but he now has to keep his hind legs somewhat closed so he’s not giving a show.

“So… you made the spider silk for our suits?” Glacial asks.

“Yes,” he truthfully answers, then raises a questioning brow. “Would you prefer worm cocoon or actual spider spider silk instead?”

“No, that’s not a big deal,” she says with a shrug. “I was just curious. Thanks, Cure… they are really nice.”

“Sure. I’m glad you’re not upset.”

“What about the stuff you gave me?” Dawn asks.

“Same thing on the silk. Velvet Stitch had the wool in stock, but I can make wool now too. I’ve learned how.”

“Oh, so that’s why you told my dam they didn’t have more…”

“Yep. I would have had to sit here and make it. And the first sheet I made took hours.”

Heavy lets out a deep sigh. “Your talent is cow manure, dude. Pure cow manure.”

“It is,” he easily agrees. “It’s massively unfair, which is why I don’t hesitate to share things with everypony. I try to earn what I’ve been given by helping everypony I possibly can, like when your sister was born. Did your dam say anything about the delivery?”

“Yeah, she said it went great… were you there?”

“Yep. I spent the entire weekend here then Tuesday and Thursday in Parkdale and Ferndale. I helped deliver a hundred and sixty five foals over four days. I changed my colors and put a fake horn on. Ask her if there was a brown unicorn colt, she may not have noticed me.”

“Why disguise yourself there?” Rising asks. “You already work at the clinic.”

“Just another layer to try to keep from being dragged into the spotlight. I hide a lot of my abilities so I can have a somewhat normal life, too. Like, imagine if the captain over the Baltimare region said, ‘You’re going to give all my guards wings, I don’t care if it takes you all year!’ or something. That’s not even including the really crazy stuff.”

“Like four hoof long tongues?” Glacial asks, then blushes scarlet when everypony, parents included, look her way. Title bursts out laughing, realizing Cure must have mentioned that crazy Bubblegum mare.

“He told us about a mare that paid for that,” Wind giggles out. “I almost peed myself laughing at our parents’ faces!”

“Why the hay would you want a longer tongue?” Sapphire loudly asks.

“One hundred percent honest answer? She said she wanted to give herself an advantage in an actual legitimate competition that has nothing to do with what all of you are thinking. I’ll just say that it’s food related and leave it at that.”

“Wait… you know about…” Wind trails off, looking at the younger foals, then looks back to Cure. With a mischievous grin she asks, “So you know about…” she asks, waggling her brows, then giving a small, quick nod and slightly widening her eyes.

“I have a healthcare cutie mark, Wind. There’s not many things I don’t know. Probably.” After a moment’s pause he adds, “At least as far as ponies are concerned.”

“HAH! Way to play it, colt.”

“It helps that I can cheat to keep my expression neutral.”

“Nice!” she cheers, reaching out for a hoof bump in approval. Being a bro and all, Cure doesn’t leave her hanging.

Coast speaks up next. “So wait, you were pretending to be a unicorn when helping everypony with their foals?”

“Yep. It’s a lot easier to slap on a fake horn than it is wings, and since I was using magic it was a lot more believable.”

“Right,” she nods, “but Dawn’s dam said she thought you could use a real horn if you tried.”

“Yeah,” Rising agrees, “and if you can grow wings and can already use magic, why couldn’t you use a horn?”

With everypony staring at him, Cure again looks to his parents for guidance. Title shrugs unhelpfully, but Deed and Vines share a look before nodding. Cure can only assume they’re unable or unwilling to come up with a believable lie. Or they believe the time for deception has come to an end, which it probably has. At this point he would have to flat out lie to his friends, and that will be a major problem later when the truth inevitably comes out.

With a deep sigh, Cure nods to the filly. “I can use a horn.”

“That was you!” Drift accuses, pointing a hoof his way. “I thought it was weird when I saw a super muscular unicorn with them!” she shouts, motioning towards Dawn. “And he was brown too! No wonder I haven’t seen him since Solar left!”

“The fluffy one?” Glacial asks. “That was you?”

“Yeah,” Cure confesses. “Solar knew something was up when I used that Illusion crystal the first time. He confronted me after our run that night.”

“Dude!” Heavy yells, “That was like four months ago! What the hay, Cure?”

“He figured it out! He knows more about magic and knew something was up when he saw the Illusion crystal. I was going to eventually tell everypony but at first I thought my talent would get me arrested. It’s a heavily restricted class of magic, to the point the Town Guard had to get involved.” Cure glances Dawn’s way and gives her a nod.

Realizing what he is prompting her to explain, she tells them about the report. “My sire had to help Staff Sergeant Bulwark write a report on Cure for the captain over the Baltimare area. The princess herself got a copy of it too, eventually.”

“Yep. Apparently there’s a few archmages at the Assembly in Canterlot that insist I am a threat to national security.” When several of his friends give disbelieving looks he assures them, “No, I’m not joking. And that’s with neither wings nor a horn. Just imagine how much they would panic if they knew I could use unicorn magic and, maybe, fly.”

“Uhh… okay, I guess I could see why you kinda kept quiet. I still think you should have told your friends. Did you think you couldn’t trust us?”

“I do trust you. It’s not that simple though. Dawn has had to keep this from her parents for months. Telling you also means you have to keep things from your families because of me. Or tell them. I didn’t want to force everypony to do that without a very good reason. Would me telling you have changed anything about the last few months other than forcing you to keep my secret?”

Glacial perks up. “You could have gone flying with us like you went to the range.”

“That would be awesome,” he agrees, “but that was my first time trying real wings, remember? Did it look like I know what I’m doing?” he asks, giving her an amused look.

“No,” she admits with a giggle. “Definitely not.”

“It’s kinda funny that this came out tonight. I first tried using a horn so I could figure out how enchanting works. The whole point was finding a way for ponies without horns to still have access to magic. Ironic that y’all figure everything out the night I finally succeed, huh?”

With a quick glance out the window he sees the sun has already set. He begins shrinking the wings down, ignoring the pegasi protests, and says, “Sorry I’ve kept you all here so late. This is obviously not how I expected the evening to go. Dad?”

“What’s up, champ?”

“Since it’s already dark out, do you mind coming with me to see everypony home?”

“See us home?” Rising asks. “Why?”

“Because it’s dark out and I’d feel better knowing everypony made it home safe after I caused you to be out late. I mean, you could message me, I guess, but this way you won’t need the crystal recharged. Besides, if anypony’s parents are mad at ‘em I’ll be right there for them to yell at.”

“Woo! Sounds good to me!” Sapphire cheers.

“Sure, sport. How about ya grab a few of yer Light crystals so these three,” he nods to the pegasi, “have an easier time seein?”

As the girls all get ready to leave, Cure runs upstairs while absorbing the wings, recreating his horns, and replacing his fat reserves. He grabs three cantrip crystals and puts a variable-powered and forward-focused blue-tinted Light spell in each one and turns to head back downstairs.

After a moment of thought he grabs another five for Sapphire, Ferric, Rising, Coast, and Heavy, then grabs a couple kilograms of dust for Ferric, then retracts his horn. She’d asked him to pick one up, but he’s not sure when he’ll make it back out to Early’s, so he got a little extra for the dark filly along with some for himself.

“Drift, Glacial, Wind… here’s three variable-intensity Light crystals. I doubt you need them with the moon and all, but these should give you a little extra light without blinding you at their low setting. You’ll be able to turn them up if need be, but I know pegasi have really great night vision, so I doubt you’ll need that.

“Everypony else, I made enough for all of you. Just like the other one, whenever these need recharging just stop by or bring ‘em to school with ya. Light isn’t like Sending. These’ll last hours. Days at the lowest setting. They make good nightlights.”

Once everypony is ready to leave the group all heads outside. Deed escorts the group of foals out an overabundance of caution. There’s not a lot of clouds, so Cure is able to track the three small lights all the way across the town until they disappear into the cloud district.

Coast is the closest and, while separating from the group, thanks Cure for the crystal with a friendly nuzzle. Ferric is excited to have some extra dust, and when Cure insists she just let him know when she gets low she gives him another grateful nuzzle before diving into her house. Heavy accepts the offered bro-hoof when they arrive at his house, and Cure doesn’t hesitate to stick out his tongue and make faces at the little sister shooting him a sinister look through the window.

Sapphire is the next stop and, caught completely unprepared, the girl trots up and plants a peck on Cure’s cheek with a quick “your wings are pretty!” before running in the house laughing at the ensuing blush. Rising’s dam opens the door and lets her daughter in the house, but is quick to snatch up the retreating colt and plant a kiss between his ears while thanking him for her daughter’s new instrument.

Finally alone with Dawn, Cure walks shoulder-to-shoulder with the orange filly when she speaks up. “I’m glad you finally told them. I didn’t like feeling like I was lying to them.”

Sighing, Cure nods in agreement. “I know. We’re all just foals, though, Dawn. I blurt out dumb crap all the time, but at least it’s my talent to blab about, ya know? Now I guess we’ll just have to see what happens.”

“You told us you were going to tell Solar and I at some point. We just figured it out sooner. I’m a foal too.”

“Yep, and if you recall, I was super hesitant to tell you. Solar voluntarily took an oath the very first time I met him. Also, the two of you are more mature than most of our friends. Heck, Drift is the oldest of our group, aside from her sister, and she’s the one I’m worried about more than anypony.”

Dawn can’t hide the grimace at that. “I guess. I could see her getting mad and blurting something out.”

“Yep. She’s doing better since New Year’s but that’s not a quick or easy change to make. I’m not worried about her parents right now, but if she’d known back when her sire was still in trouble it would have been a different story. A very different one.”

“Why aren’t you worried about her parents? I mean, her dam seems nice the few times I’ve met her, but I don’t know about her sire.”

“When I was takin them their flight suits Mrs. Dance said they’re thinking of having a foal. This is all confidential, okay?”

Dawn nods and, without prompting, activates a Sound Bubble around the trio as they approach her house. They pause outside to finish their conversation.

“Good thinkin, Dawn girl,” Deed quietly praises.

Continuing, Cure reminds Dawn, “My dam’s pregnant, as you’re aware. You know she’s having twins, right?”

“Yeah, a colt and a filly. Wait… did you cause that?”

“Yep. When her body released an egg at the start of her season I made a copy of it, so she had two.”

“That’s… that’s huge, Cure!”

“It is, hence the confidential thing. I can help dams have two or more foals at once, to a limit, of course. I can also make it so sires will only give them sons. Or daughters. Whichever,” he finishes with a shrug.

“You’re serious?” she asks, looking between Cure and Deed. When they both nod she insists, “You have to tell Solar. He’ll want foals eventually. He’d want to know.”

“I plan on it. Feel free to if he brings it up and I’m not there. I trust you. Anyhow, back to Mrs. Dance and Mr. Flare,” he starts.

Interrupting, Dawn blurts out, “You’re going to give them twin colts?”

“Yep. Or triplets, I guess. I delivered two sets of triplets, so I know ponies can safely carry more than two foals. As long as Mrs. Dance stopped in every few weeks for a checkup I could guarantee healthy delivery, no problem. Or if she’s unable to carry three, I guess I could transplant one to a surrogate.”

Dawn looks completely thrown off by the suggestion and, judging from the shocked look on his sire, Deed hadn’t considered the possibility either.

“Really, if I put a little effort into it, I could probably make plants to grow ponies. A whole field of pony babies, all loyal to me. With all three tribes’ abilities! The perfect soldiers! Think about it, Dawn. We’ll take over the whole country and live like queen and king!”

The suggestion earns a flat look from the annoyed filly.

“Or, I guess I can just get rich and leave the ruling to the boss lady. I checked her references; they’re pretty solid, I suppose. Couldn’t reach any previous employers for some reason, though. Super sus. Then again she seems to do a good enough job. I rate it seven, maybe eight out of ten.”

“I’ll be sure ta tell her that when we see her, son,” Deed teases.

“You’ll be too busy carryin the flowers, pa. We’ll have to get you a big, fancy bouquet so you can really impress her. Quitters don’t become prince consorts, dad.”

Sighing, Deed can only shake his head at the annoying colt.

“Seriously, though, I am at least gonna take her some of those flowers like I made the girls. I’d feel a little tacky showing up at her freaking castle and spending a few nights there without at least giving her a present. She’s got one of damn near anything you could imagine, I bet, so it would have to be something she can’t find anywhere else. Shame I don’t know what her favorite flower is.”

“Why don’t you just scan every flower you can, then make the seed on the spot?” Dawn suggests. “She’s got earth pony magic, so she may even like growing something new.”

“Huh… Dang, no wonder I hang out with you. You’re almost as smart as I am!”

Following Deed’s example, she sighs and shakes her head at Cure too. “You wish you could keep up with me."

“Hey, we heard back from that mare today. The one I was hoping would be able to teach us.”

“I’m guessing she isn’t?” she asks, disappointment obvious in her voice.

Cure blows out a sigh, shaking his head no. “Not for the foreseeable future, at least. She’s apparently enjoying her retirement, now that she’s in perfect health to. I can’t blame her,” he adds with a shrug. “After all, she taught for decades and now she’s young and has all the money she saved up the whole time.

“Some ponies may want to, but I can’t fault her for not wanting to go right back to work. She’s traveling all over the country right now. She had just gotten back from Las Pegasus when she saw my letter sitting there. She did say she’s going to send over some of her material, though.

“I wish she’d just come and told me instead of mailing a letter back. I coulda saved her the time and money and gone to pick it up myself. She’s apparently already taken off for Manehattan, so I’ll just hafta wait.”

“I mean, it sounds like you might still be able to get something from her books, though. At least that’s something.”

“It’ll still be sanitized, I bet,” he responds. Seeing her confusion he explains, “There’s gotta be something going on that they’re not putting in books. At least, I think. The princess casted spells without using runes. I was hoping to have an actual teacher to bounce ideas off of, but if the material she sends is censored it may not be that helpful.”

“Well… I’d still like to take a look at it if you don’t mind. Let me know when it arrives?”

“You bet, babe. I’ll send you a message if it’s not too late.” Cure glances up at the house as the door opens. The parents must have noticed the light outside, so he gives Emerald a wave as Dawn turns off the Sound Bubble. “Goodnight, Dawn. I’ll see ya tomorrow.”

“Goodnight, Cure. Goodnight, Mr. Deed.” She gives Cure a fond nuzzle, then she and Deed trade friendly ones before she trots up to the door and enters her house.

As the pair start heading home Deed gives Cure a little bump. “So… takin the princess flowers, eh?”

“You bet, pa. Last I checked ya don’t go to a lady’s house with the intention of spendin the night and not bring flowers, ya know? At least not the first time.”

“HAH! Good point, son.”

“Yer darn right. And I wasn’t joking about how soft her coat was. I swear to Harmony if she dropped one of them wings on me I woulda been out like a light.”

“Keep dreamin, son. Keep dreamin.”

“Don’t mind if I do. At least ‘till sissy gets back. Man that’ll be a mess.”

Chapter 51: Cheating With Style

Sunday, February 1st, 909 AB (4 days later)

With two burners going the pancakes are getting done much faster. Cure could probably heat one more with a cantrip, but dividing attention more than a few ways is a good way to end up with a burned breakfast. Since almost all his secrets have been laid bare before his friends he can at least start using nearly the full breadth of his abilities around them.

Head resting on the table, Drift whines out, “Why the hay are we here so early?”

“Because Solar is coming home today and I want to at least say hi when he rolls in. He’ll be here about an hour after lunch, which gives us like… four hours?” Cure taps his watch and seven o’clock pops up. “Yeah, like maybe five hours for you two to enjoy the spectacle of me, potentially, face planting dozens of times.”

“You’re not going to crash today, Cure,” Glacial assures him. “At least not like that. We wouldn’t let you.”

“Aww… thanks, Glacial.”

“Would be pretty funny though…” Drift mumbles under her breath. At Glacial’s glare she defends herself. “It’s not like he’d actually be hurt!”

“A stallion’s pride is a fragile thing, Drift.”

Vines calls from the living room asking, “Are you sure you don’t want me to take over, sweetie?”

Cure shouts back, “Nah, thanks dam. I figure if the ladies are gonna help me learn to fly I should be the one makin ‘em breakfast at least. Besides, you said you’d be making lunch for us when we got back, so I got this. I’m almost done anyhow. I made a bunch’a extra batter for you all, too.”

“Oh! Thanks, honey. I’m sure they’ll appreciate it.”

“You’re probably not going to actually be flying today, Cure,” Glacial insists. “At least, not really. It’s going to be all about wing positions and how to move your body. If you do well on that then maybe we’ll bring down some cloud… wait, can you stand on clouds?”

“I have Slow Fall and Cloud Walk in crystals on me, but I can stand on clouds. As far as I know, the only thing I can’t do is mess with the weather. I think y’all use pegasus magic for that. I should have lightning mitigation, cloud walking, and mass reduction, but anything related to weather is probably out of bounds for me.”

“What’s it like?” Drift asks. At his confused look she clarifies, “Being able to change like that?”

“Scary. Cliche as the saying is, it’s more power than anypony should have. I almost wonder if the other ponies that had similar talents were actually killed off by some greater force of something.” Cure sighs, levitating over three jars of syrup and hitting each with a Warming cantrip. “Plain, raspberry, and blueberry infused. Mix and match as desired.”

Glacial gives him a quizzical look. “Greater force?”

“Yeah. You’ve heard of creatures like Discord and Nightmare Moon. The princess fits the bill too. She did defeat those other two, after all. I’m sure there’s others out there that don’t broadcast their existence.”

Drift laughs out loud at the ridiculous statement. “Nightmare Moon isn’t real, dummy. That’s a foal’s holiday!”

He can’t help but look over his withers and ask, “Are you serious? She’s on the flag.”

“That’s…” she pauses, furrowing her brow. Turning to her friend she asks, “Wait, is that real?”

When Glacial offers an unsure shrug Cure asks, “What’s today’s date, Drift?”

“February first.”

“Of what year?”

Raising a brow at the weird question, she slowly answers as if trying to find the trap. “Nine oh nine.”

“AB.” He finishes. “Nine-oh-nine AB. As in, nine hundred and nine years after her banishment to the moon. I don’t have proof you’re wrong or anything, but there’s a dark blue alicorn on the country’s flag, our year notation is based on somepony’s banishment, and there’s a dark blue unicorn’s silhouette on the moon. If you only looked at the princess from her withers forward, what does she look like?”

Cure turns sideways and darkens his fur to navy only from his shoulders up, leaving a curved, light blue line where the edge of the moon would be, then positions his head just like the silhouette.

Looking a little panicked, Drift barely manages an “Uhh…”

Glacial cautiously answers, “A unicorn?”

He points a hoof at her and cheers, fixing his colors at the same time. “Bingo! You win one free pancake breakfast!”

“Yaaay,” she deadpans. “That’s so weird, though. I would think you’re nuts if it weren’t for the flag and year. Why haven’t I ever heard of this?”

“Y’all think I’m paranoid, and I am, but it’s strange cover-ups like this that make me that way.” Glancing at Drift he adds, “I bet some of the higher ups in the military know. Nobles, too. Some of those families can trace their ancestry to before she was banished. I can’t say I recommend asking questions about it. Somepony may catch wind of curious foals knowing more than they should.”

The room goes silent while the fillies ponder on that and Cure flips a couple more pancakes out, pouring in another two dollops into the pans. “One more set…”

“Drift, if you’re curious about how it feels, I can let you try different things, kind of. I mean, I can’t give you my talent, obviously, but if you want to try hands, for example. I have enough magic for that. They’re great for holding forks and stuff.”

Drift scrunches her snout in thought, apparently not too enthusiastic about the idea. Cure is increasingly wondering if all his paranoia about ponies taking advantage of his talent has been a waste of time.

For all that ponies seem fine changing their styles of making their butts nice and round the idea of any real change seems to freak them out. He can’t even get his own dam to let him upgrade her eyes after months. And he still hasn’t made that fucking lavender nightlight plant!

“As for how it feels? The first thing I do when using my magic is numb everything I can in the affected areas, so I guess it feels like a limb that’s fallen asleep. Rearranging crap with intact pain sensors is a horrible idea.” He pauses for a moment, flipping the ones in the pans over. Levitation makes the process a joke; never again will he serve pancakes with fold seams or that ‘smeared across the pan while flipping’ look.

“Alright, that’s probably enough,” he mumbles a moment later. He floats pancakes number nine and ten out of the pans, then hits the three plates with a Warming again and floats the two with three pancakes in front of the girls and the four-stack in front of his spot, followed by two milks and a coffee.

“Dig in, ladies,” he calls, hopping up to join them. Drift is across from him in his normal spot and Glacial is to his left in his mom’s. After a few minutes of quiet eating he continues his explanation. “The strangest thing is learning how to use appendages that I wasn’t born with.”

“Like wings?” Glacial suggests.

“Maybe. We’ll find out soon, I suppose. I mean like that tongue thing. If I didn’t have the muscle control I do it would probably just flop around, smacking myself in the face or whatever.” Both girls get a giggle out of the image. “Yeah, that happened the first time I tested it,” he admits. At the pair of raised brows he sheepishly defends, “I was curious the night after I gave one to that mare.”

“I bet you were,” Drift accuses.

“Meh, think what you want. I just tried waving it around, making shapes with it, and using it to pick things up. With an earth pony TK field it was super useful. I’m sure it looked freaking weird though. Honestly, the hardest part of all this is not accidentally doing something that makes everypony afraid of me.”

“Like growing spider legs?” Glacial asks, raising an accusatory brow.

“Legs, nothin. You do realize almost all spiders have at least some venom, right? Also, I’ve scanned hundreds of other bugs, any of which would be horrifying if they were me-sized.”

“You… could turn into a big spider, basically?” Drift asks warily.

“Spider, ant, scorpion, etcetera, or just a chimera with all the best parts of each. All with earth pony strength, near-infinite healing, unicorn magic, and wings. And judging by those looks that sounds terrifying. So… yeah, like I said, at some point I’ll do, or say, something like that that scares the heck out of everypony. Sorry,” he finishes with a facehoof.

The two fillies stare a moment longer, then share a look, shrug, and go back to eating, though at a noticeably more sedate pace.

“Of course, I can go the opposite direction with it all too. As you saw the other night, I can go the ‘pretty’ route too. Or, and I know you’ll like this, the adorable route. Nopony can resist that,” he insists with a firm nod.

“Do it.” Drift commands.

“Hm?”

“I want to see it.”

“The adorable or the scary?”

“Adorable.” With a challenging smirk she adds, “Your face is scary enough as-is.”

“... your face is scary,” he cleverly counters as he shoves the last few bites of pancake in his mouth. “Fine, gimme a few minutes,” he says, walking out of the room and ducking into the bathroom.

Though cats can certainly give them a run for their money, in Cure’s opinion there are few more adorable creatures on the planet than a big, fluffy, white bunny rabbit with long, floppy ears. The change is almost exclusively surface level, though he has to shorten his snout, which takes a lot of dental work. Changing his hooves into declawed paws with bright pink pads takes a moment, though.

Really, the whole thing probably isn’t worth the effort or the magic, but hopefully this will banish the stupid comment he made about horrifying pony-sized venomous chimera insects way out of their minds. Besides, his dam will probably lose her shit gushing over him when he comes out of the bathroom as long as he keeps his ‘your son’ scent underneath the ‘cologne’ additions he puts on too.

For whatever reason, changing his scent affects the sweet mare more than almost anything else. Add cookies, coffee, or vanilla on? That’s okay. Completely remove the ‘Cure’ smell? She starts having the pony version of a cascading failure.

He leaves his longer neck as-is, which looks a little funny, and doesn’t otherwise rearrange his cranium or overall shape, but with the extra thick layer of fuzz it still works pretty well. The ears are almost comically huge and, just for the extra “aww” factor he extrudes a big, red ribbon to affix on the right one at the base. With bright, blue eyes and an otherwise solid white, fluff-covered coat, he opens the door and slowly hops his way to the living room.

Vines glances in his direction and goes back to her book, then freezes and does a classic double-take before her jaw nearly hits the floor. Like a kitty about to pounce, her booty does the excited wiggle before, while squealing in joy, she launches herself at her son. Giggling and cooing all over the disguised colt, she nuzzles almost every square inch of him and hugs him tight to her chest, much to his amusement.

The girls, hearing the commotion, come out of the kitchen to find a smiling Cure pinned to the ground with his dam on top of him grooming a twitching ear.

Approaching for a better look at the amused colt-bun, Glacial can’t help but ask, “Sweet Celestia… that is you, right, Cure?”

“Of course it’s me,” he answers in his normal voice. “I think I broke my dam, though. C’mon, dam, let the girls have a look-see. You can get your snuggle time in later if you’re good.”

“Aww, but sweetie! Look how fuzzy you are!” she shouts, back half still dancing and wiggling.

“I know! I keep tellin everypony how adorable I am. Dunno why, but nopony ever believes me,” he sighs out defeatedly.

Climbing off with a sigh, the green mare relents. “Fine, but you need to show your mom and sister later. Oh I bet little Savvy will lose her mind!”

As Vines retreats back to her cushion, casting longing looks over her withers every other step, Cure sits up and does a full-body shake to reset his fur and the girls approach him to look him over.

“Huh. Okay,” Drift nods in agreement, “I can’t deny it. That’s ridiculously cute. Where’d you get a bow?”

“Made it.”

“So unfair…”

“Yup. Cheatin,” he agrees with a shrug and a nod.

Glacial paws at his fluff a little with a hoof, prompting Cure to roll over and lay on his back and pat his chest. “Ya gotta try this fluff, babe. You won’t find hair this soft anywhere in nature, promise.”

“Oh my gosh… your hooves!” Drift cries, rushing over and grabbing a foreleg. Cure can’t help but chuckle when she rubs her cheek across his toe beans. “Come feel this!” she shouts at Glacial.

Accepting the invitation, the platinum filly first follows her friend’s example and checks out his feet, running her cheek across the soft pads. Normally they would be calloused and tough, but not these; they’re smooth as silk and as soft as the rest of him.

“This is so weird,” Glacial calmly says. “You barely even look like a pony. Well, except your tail. Why didn’t you change your tail, just out of curiosity?” she asks, leaning down and running a cheek across his chest and letting out an involuntary sigh at the softness. “Oh my stars,” she softly murmurs, then collapses on him.

“Eh, I just didn’t think the tail would be necessary for this small demonstration. Pony tails are already pretty adorbs, so it felt like overkill. Maybe if I was, like… I dunno, trying to give somepony diabetes or whatever.”

Drift cocks a brow at the unfamiliar term. “What’s diabetes?” she asks, nuzzling against his side and running her cheek across his belly, following Glacial’s example a moment later.

“It’s a condition some creatures get where their body doesn’t properly respond to sugar. I’m pretty confident ponies can’t get it for whatever reason.” Cure gently reaches around the girls’ backs and carefully pulls them against himself.

It’s only a moment before they’re both unconsciously rubbing their sides against him, marveling at the softness of the floof. He notices his dam looking on enviously from her cushion and mentally promises to make it up to her later.

“Y’all are gonna fall asleep if we keep this up, ya know?”

Drift lets out a little whine, burying her snout in his chest fluff. “Aww, but you’re so soft…”

“Told ya. You didn’t even last two minutes.” While teasingly nudging the dark filly he asks, “Who’s the most adorable floof you’ve ever seen?”

“Ugh… you can be, I guess, but only because you can cheat so much.”

“I know… I think Glacial is asleep.”

“mmno… almost. shh” she softly responds, taking a deep breath and blowing it out her snout, puffing his extra-long fur away.

“Nope!” he loudly replies, shaking and starting to change his fur back to its normal length and coarseness. While poking at the girl to wake up he offers her a deal. “If you want, and if you’re allowed, I can give you a hand massage later in thanks for the flight training. I think Solar’s spending the day with his marefriend, so I’m just going to pop in to heal him back to full. Maybe I can come with you two up to your place and do you both there.”

Cure notices Vines gives him an odd look at the wording, but doesn’t say anything, only raising a single brow and shooting him a smirk, to which he responds with a mild eye roll.

“C’mon, G, get up. You two need to get your suits on and we gotta get movin. I definitely wasted too much time on that demonstration, but at least you’re not both givin me weird ‘is he going to turn into a bug and eat us’ looks anymore,” he teases.

“Pfft, please,” Drift stands and waves a wing huffing. “Like you could ever catch me.”

“Inside I could, but I would wreck the place doing so. I would have no hope outside until I learn to fly really well,” he agrees as the platinum filly reluctantly lets him up. “One thing I bet you’ve forgotten is that, unlike a real pegasus, I have earth pony strength and endurance.”

Drift’s eyes widen at the implication. Pegasus wing muscles are powerful; the idea that his could be an order of magnitude stronger means that his acceleration is likely to blow hers away.

Cure rolls to his feet and waves the pair to the restroom. “Go ahead and get changed. I’m going to go change back and grab a couple crystals in case they’re needed.”

Drift absentmindedly nods, grabs their saddlebags, and pushes a groggy, whining Glacial to the bathroom to get them dressed.

A few minutes later a fully geared, still wingless Cure is waiting for the girls to finish dressing. Pony body shapes definitely make getting dressed more difficult than humans, and Cure can’t even fathom how bad it would be if they weren’t as strangely flexible as they are.

“Alright, I’m going to go hop on the train. I’ll meet you in Ferndale at the station in half an hour. Make sure you find somewhere isolated enough that we don’t have ponies bugging us.”

“We know, Cure,” Drift interrupts. “You’re learning to fly because you have earth pony parents and they were afraid of you getting hurt while learning so you never did but are curious now. We know,” she reiterates, rolling her eyes in annoyance.

“I don’t know why you still feel like you need to hide what you can do,” Glacial says. “We could literally just go to the pond and practice there.”

“Remember the other night? The ponies I said think I’m a threat somehow? I was specifically told they were looking for me.” The disappointed, frustrated looks on the girls is like a knife to the heart. Weighing his options he decides it’s unlikely somepony is watching his house, and if they are then they’ve already found him anyhow. If not then seeing some random pegasus isn’t going to instant tip them off.

“We’ll go to the pond, but I’m going to stay in disguise at least until I can clear up this whole archmage thing. Dam, I’m going to keep the horn.”

“Honey… are you sure?”

“I don’t want to risk not having it should the need arise. If I explode I’ll be back in a couple hours. I really don’t think it’s that simple anyhow. I have Sending, a mid Shield, and a few mid-low Blink too.”

In the unlikely event that he may somehow meet whatever conditions were required, assuming it’s possible, Cure had sat with his parents and explained what was shown in the episode where Twilight ascended.

Granted in the show Princess Celestia showed up immediately, but he explained that this likely wouldn’t be the case should the same happen with him. Twilight’s ascension was, or will be, basically planned out. Unless Celestia gets some kind of inkling it’s about to happen she would likely be caught by surprise.

Although he suspects she could use a combination of her ridiculous speed and teleportation to get somewhere even faster than she’d already displayed, it would still mean several minutes where his parents would likely have otherwise thought him dead.

“Explode?” both girls ask in unison.

“Don’t worry about it, just an expression,” he assures them. “Probably.”

Going through the same motions as the other night, he drains some of his fat reserves building his wings. Unlike last time he doesn’t make them proportionally gigantic, instead going with ones just slightly larger than normal for his body size to make up for his higher mass. He also forgoes any over the top theme and uses his usual incognito brown colors.

“There,” he says, flaring the wings out, then folding them down like normal. “They look okay?”

Glacial nods with a goofy smile, tail swishing happily behind her.

Drift takes one look at her friend and rolls her eyes. Turning to the brown colt she nods in approval. “Aside from being thick as Tartarus and having a horn, yes.”

Vines lets out a sigh of relief. Cure had previously said he’s one of the few or only ponies that could hide their alicorn nature should it ever happen, but the thought of her young son being shoved onto the world stage so early still frightened her. Stars, the thought of him ever being in that situation frightened her, but at least now he seems to have the princess’s attention in a good way.

Movement at the top of the stairs draws everypony’s attention. Deed and Title, the latter carrying a squirming Savvy, come down the stairs. “Heya cha- uhh… Cure?”

“Yeah don’t worry, pa, I just didn’t remove the horn when I put wings on. Nothing happened. I made plenty of pancake batter… ah fudge, I left a mess,” he says, starting to turn to the kitchen before his mom stops him.

“Don’t worry about it,” his mom tells him, “we’ll clean up after we eat. Give your sister a kiss before you go crashin into everything,” she adds, setting the filly down.

Savvy doesn’t hesitate to make her way to her brother who lays on his barrel and spreads his wings out wide, level with the floor. The cute girl’s curiosity draws her to the foreign appendages, and she’s soon nosing at the underside of his feathers and chewing on one of his secondaries.

“Aww, Savvy wanna feather to noms?” he asks. “Sorry, baby girl, I don’t want you choking,” he coos, nuzzling into her side and kissing her cheek. “Nope, go chew on Teddy, sweetie. Maybe I can make you a big brother with wings plushie to chew on, okay?”

He pulls the sweet filly between his forelegs and gives her mane and ears a little attention, then plants a big, exaggerated kiss between her ears.

Turning to look at his smiling dam he adds, “I’m going to bring some wood back and make her some puzzles and a few toys to work on coordination. Would you please distract her so I can escape without upsetting her? Oh and you have maybe ten minutes until it’s time for a number two.”

“Sure sweetie.” Vines hops up and goes to the newly added toybox and fetches a plush toy, then distracts his sister enough he can sneak away. He makes a quick retreat to the door where the pegasus fillies have been waiting, watching with subtle smiles the whole time.

“Alright, my lovelies, I place my wellbeing in your tender hooves.”

Smirking, Drift pushes open the door and trots outside, followed by Glacial. The pair stop and look back at the pseudo-alicorn colt. Cure retracts the horn, then approaches the girls already standing outside. He hesitates at the doorway, looking around to see if anypony is watching and, finding nopony, gingerly steps out of the house.

The act doesn’t escape either girls’ notice when they share a look. They’ve seen him, over the months, express concerns about ponies finding out what he can do. They’re aware that he’s gone to great lengths to obscure his capabilities.

They’ve never seen him look legitimately afraid of anything, though. The confident, invincible mask he normally wears is nowhere to be seen and neither filly cares for the fact their friend has been secretly living with this fear for several months.

“It’s okay, Cure. Nopony is out and, even if they see you, nothing will happen. Come on,” Glacial gently calls, tilting her head towards the woods.

After another quick glance around, he nods, takes another step, and pulls the door shut behind him, then takes off at a canter towards the woods and, ultimately, the pond they’ve spent several evenings cooling down in after their runs. The pond is frozen over, but Cure isn’t sure if it’s solid enough to skate on. With the pegasus aura it would be fine, but he doesn’t care much about skating when flight is a possibility.

The three foals come to a stop near the bank of the pond. The trees are far enough away that no branches are overhead, so even if he accidentally shoots in the air he won’t hit anything.

“Alright, a few things I should tell you both,” he starts as they turn to face him. “First off, I’m insanely tough. Don’t panic if I crash; I’ll be fine.”

“You should be anyhow. Why… what have you done?” Drift asks, giving him a critical look-over.

“You know how I said that silk is an organic compound?”

“Yeah.”

“Remember how I told you the stuff is tough?”

“Yeah… but you’re not wearing anything.”

“I have a layer of something like it under my skin.”

“Wait, what?” Glacial interrupts. “How do you have something under your skin?”

“Just think of it as a second layer of skin, basically. Under your coat is the epidermis; that’s your skin. Under that is the dermis. I have another layer under that that’s very, very tough, so if I fell onto a sharp branch, for example, instead of maybe stabbing me it would just snap off. I’ll still get cut, but it won’t penetrate. Of course I can also just heal anything, so… yeah,” he finishes, shrugging his wings.

Both girls’ eyes are drawn to the move and Drift doesn’t hesitate to point it out. “How are you doing that?”

“What?”

“Moving like we do. You said you’ve never grown wings before the other night but you’re moving them like you’ve had them your whole life.”

“Ah. That was another thing I was gonna explain. You’re familiar with, like, squids and octopuses, right?” Both girls nod, so he continues, “Their arms all can kinda move on their own because they kinda have nerve clusters called ganglia that, while they aren’t a brain exactly, do some things a brain does. Specifically, move their arms and process sensory info like touch.

“I copied the idea and have made ganglia specifically to improve coordination and kinesthetic learning speed. They’re all tied into, basically, a secondary cerebellum plugged directly into my spinal column.”

The girls both give him deadpan looks.

“Err… I learn by doing super fast. If I do something right once, I’ll basically always do it right. I also mimic very, very well, so usually if I see something done right I should be able to replicate it. This may actually go pretty well.”

“What all can you get really good at?” Glacial hesitantly asks.

“Anything, probably. Anything physical, at least. Magic isn’t purely physical, so that’s a bit harder.”

“Really?” she asks, looking suitably impressed.

“Oh yeah, absolutely,” he insists with a vigorous nod. “Between that and my talent’s observation and memorization capabilities I should be able to get as good as anypony else is at almost anything when it comes to physical activity. I don’t think it’ll take long at all for me to learn to fly.”

Drift blows out a sigh, closes her eyes, and mumbles, “I want to hit you.”

Raising a brow, he smirks at her and teases, “Wanted to see me faceplant that bad?”

“No, it’s just… all the stuff everypony else has to work for you just get it hoofed over for free.”

“I know, Drift… I don’t know what to say. It is unfair. In my defense, according to the lawyers we saw in Canterlot, three other ponies over the centuries have had a similar ability. Each one of them accidentally killed themselves with it. If we could choose our talents would you go with the one that has a one-out-of-four survival rate?”

Glacial asks, “Killed themselves? How? Is this the ‘greater power’ thing you were talking about?”

“Yes. I have no idea what actually happened to them. If it was just an accident then they probably did something to their brain, though. I did once to improve my eyesight, then, afterwards, read a magic safety book the librarian recommended and it scared the crap out of me.”

“Your eyesight? How good is it?” she asks.

“As good as yours. Slightly better, actually. Some ponies have one thing or another that’s better. Griffons, in this case, have better distance eyesight; probably because their ancestors were high-flying dive ambush predators. It’s not a big difference, but I have a little better long-distance vision than you do. I can also adjust my eyes like eagles and stuff, so I can zoom in on things.”

“So,” Drift starts, “you basically take the best of everything you find from anycreature you use your talent on?”

“Well… not take obviously. It’s not like I’m stealing something from them. Also, I have to notice it too. So, the spider venom thing. I don’t know which is best since I, obviously, haven’t tested them all. If I know something does something well, like eyes, then I can just duplicate it. I can also sometimes enhance traits by pouring magic into them, but your eyesight is already fantastic, so I don’t think you’ll gain much. Want me to give you griffon eyes?”

“Umm… no thanks. Mine are fine.”

Turning to the platinum filly, he asks, “G? Want better eyes? Talons? Tail feathers?”

“Huh-uh. Thanks, though.”

“Sure… so, what’s first?”

“Actually, I was wondering,” Drift shyly starts, “could you do the wing thing to me?”

“Sure! Just bigger or a different shape?”

Flipping instantly to excited she asks, “What shapes can you do?”

“I’ve scanned a lot. All manner of pegasi, obviously, a male griffon, some hawks, eagles, geese, ducks, a peacock, a few turkeys, woodpeckers, owls, lots of songbirds… really, almost every kind of smaller bird around here, but they’re mostly similar to each other and your current wings. I haven’t seen a hummingbird yet, but come spring I bet I will.

“I’d also like to get a few falcons. They’re great fliers. Osprey and even seagulls too, but I haven’t been to the ocean since getting my mark. Oh and there’s a really fast bird I can’t think of the name of... starts with P...” he trails off, looking up in thought.

Glacial tilts her head in thought. “The only fast flyer that starts with P I can think of is a falcon... a peregrine falcon. They are insanely fast.”

Cure points a hoof and quickly nods. “Yep! That’s it. Guess I was close. Thanks, G!” he says with a big smile, getting one in return. He turns back to Drift to continue, “Anyhow, I could probably approximate the princess too. I didn’t scan her, obviously, but she has wings kind of shaped like a duck’s, sort of.”

Eyes wide, Drift excitedly asks, “Can you give me wings like her?”

“I can try. Without using my talent there may be some things I couldn’t see, like internally. I got a pretty good look at them when she took off, though, so yeah probably. I’ll base it off a duck ‘cause, again, similar shape. We can refine them a bit if they’re not quite right. Will your parents freak out?”

Scoffing, she flips a wing dismissively. “Who cares? Besides, you can change it back when we’re done.”

“Wait,” Glacial interrupts, “when did you see the princess take off? I thought she doesn’t really fly much.”

Cure can’t help but wince at the slip, unconsciously rubbing at his forehead with his fetlock. “Damnit…” he mutters, letting out a sigh. “You’ve heard me say this a couple times now. Some of the archmages are worried I am some kind of national threat, right?”

“Yeah.”

“Apparently they’d complained enough to Her Highness that she felt the best way to shut them up was to check in on me herself. We had just sat down to dinner the first Saturday after I helped with the births and somepony knocked, so I ran to the door thinking there was an emergency with a foal or something. She was just freaking standing there when I opened the door smiling all regal-like.”

“You’re not serious, are you?” Glacial asks. “Princess Celestia just showed up at your door?”

“Yep. She later said she came alone because she knew I didn’t want to draw attention from everypony. If you don’t believe me, ask Dawn. Her sire was made aware by Sgt. Bulwark.”

“Dam found out later,” Drift tells her. “She said to keep it quiet because everypony freaks out when the princess does anything. She said the princess talked to Sgt. Bulwark and she set up some kind of test for Cure.”

“Ehh… I wouldn’t go saying that stuff, Drift. Your dam could get in trouble by tellin ya. I won’t say anything, of course. She ended up carrying me home when I fell asleep after working my tail off on Sunday from that test. It ended up being good, though. It really helped push my magic to its limit, and I made some friends that work in Canterlot for when I eventually move there. Assuming I will. I’m not sure,” he noncommittally adds.

“That’s crazy. I can’t believe the princess actually came to your house,” Glacial says, slowly shaking her head in disbelief.

“I couldn’t either. Imagine openin yer front door and finding yourself eye level with a set of white knees. I literally looked up and, like an idiot, barely got out a ‘Woah’ before she all went,” Cure quickly changes his voice, “Hello, my little pony!” causing both fillies’ eyes to bug out.

He continues in his normal voice, “I wasn’t joking when I said I’m worried about nobles and stuff. They’re already actively trying to find me according to the boss lady herself. Or at least, they were. Dunno now. Me helping those ponies in Baltimare gave them a good idea of where to start, though.

“I am paranoid, but there’s actually ponies out there looking for me. Archmages, no less. I don’t know what that means, exactly, but it implies a rather powerful magic user, somewhere, is convinced I am a threat. They may take the princess’s word for it that I’m not, but I have no way of knowing.”

Both fillies consider the implications of that. Neither knows exactly how dangerous a powerful magic user can be, but Cure has a valid point. If some kind of powerful mage is still looking for him it may not be a bad idea to play it safe. Especially if the princess herself told him they believe he could be a threat.

“Umm… maybe the color change thing isn’t such a bad idea after all,” Glacial belatedly agrees.

“Yeah, I guess I can see why you hide the horn,” Drift agrees. “I guess we hadn’t really thought about it like that. The voice thing is totally weird, by the way. Kinda cool, too, I guess.”

“Thanks! But yeah, it is a major concern. If they just come after me I’m not too terribly worried. Like I said, I’m way tougher than a colt should be. I’m just worried they would be some kinda loon and go after my parents or something. I mean, if somepony does show up they’re already ignoring the princess, so they must have a screw loose somewhere.”

Glacial tries to assuage his concerns, saying in a gentle voice, “I don’t think you would have to worry about that. Even if they start looking around Baltimare that’s a lot of area to cover. Without something from her highness nopony would tell anypony where you live. Also, if she told them you're fine I'm not so sure they even could come after you.”

“Huh... hadn't considered that. You’re probably right." He pauses a few seconds in thought then shrugs and continues, "My parents can send me a message if anypony shows up at the house, too.”

Cure takes a deep, calming breath and gives the girls a warm smile. Turning to Drift he motions her closer. “Come here and I’ll give you duck-shaped wings, Drift,” he says as she approaches him. He’s been walking in snow the whole time, so instead of sticking a cold, wet hoof on her he wraps her in a neck-hug with his chest against hers and his chin in her mane, slowly making the change over a few minutes.

Drift blushes slightly at first, getting a raised brow and a smile over Cure's shoulder from the other filly. She hadn't really paid attention before, but with them standing chest-to-chest it's obvious the colt's at least a little taller than her now. Once he begins changing her wings the odd sensation provides enough of a distraction that the blush quickly goes away.

Once he says he’s done he steps away, watching as she spreads a wing to inspect it, then gives them a few testing flaps.

“Be careful, Drift. You’re gonna be basically relearning to fly with those. I don’t want to have to fix a broken neck and, judging from the boss lady, those things are built for speed. She was going insanely fast when she left my house.”

Nodding eagerly, Drift gives a grateful nuzzle to the colt and moves away to begin experimenting.

“Glacial? Anything special you want done?”

“Not right now, no. Maybe later. For now, let’s get you flying.” With a smirk and a mischievous look she commands, “Spread ‘em.”

“Oh my… an authoritative filly. Yes ma’am,” he teasingly replies, spreading his wings wide.

Cure has long accepted that this world is very, very different from the one from Ed’s memories. It’s an exaggeration to say that everything is different, because the number of parallels between the two are impossible to ignore. For the most part, a pony could go through their entire life living a mostly mundane existence. Of course the opposite is possible as well. One could immerse themselves in the magic of the world; embracing all the things that are possible and, often, easy that would simply never be possible on Earth.

There have already been a few significant “magical” moments since the memories came in. Witnessing his dam pour magic into her garden, getting his mark of destiny, improving his eyesight, growing a horn, creating a second egg inside of his dam, and snuggling against the chest of, and being embraced and nuzzled by, a legitimate demigod are just a few of the highlights that come to mind.

The joy of flight, and the magnificent view of the town from atop a low cloud with two pretty fillies snuggled on his sides fits perfectly on that list as well. Cure can’t help but smile nearly from ear to ear, looking over the peaceful town of Golden Hills. The cloud district floats off to the northeast and, off in the distance, he can see the cloud district hovering northwest of Baltimare.

“Beautiful.”

“It is, isn’t it?” Glacial comments, leaning against his shoulder.

Drift bumps his left side. “Just wait ‘till summer. Or fall. When the leaves change and you’re in the sky it’s just a sea of oranges and reds as far as you can see. The snow’s not bad, but we haven’t had a good snowfall cover for a few days so it’s pretty slushy right now.”

“I hope I can share this with my parents some day.”

“You said it takes months,” Drift lightly accuses. “Was that true?”

“Yes. I don’t think I’ve ever outright lied to anypony, just not fully disclosed everything,” he defends. “If it came to my family’s safety, though, I’m sorry but I will do what I think is necessary.”

Drift shrugs against him, agreeing with the sentiment. “I don’t blame you. I was just curious.”

With a grateful smile he continues, “Thanks. I’ll eventually be able to do more at once, but I worry what that would do to the pony. My sire’s just now at the point I could possibly give him wings. I’m not sure he’s willing to try flying, though. To get off the ground I have to, literally, change over a third of a pony. For him that’s like seventy five, maybe eighty kilograms of mass.”

“He’s almost three hooves taller, two hooves wider, and twice as heavy compared to a pegasus,” Glacial notes. “Ponies would notice him walking around with wings, even if they didn’t know he was just a normal earth pony before.”

Drift asks, “What about your moms?”

“I didn’t want to risk doing anything since they were pregnant. I’m changing my mom a tiny bit every morning and night now that my sister’s here. In a month or so she could fly too. She’s the only one I think is likely to actually try.”

“She’s got a pretty coat color. If she had a huge set of bright pink wings every stallion in the district would be staring at her, especially with your ridiculous muscle tone,” Drift accuses, poking at his chest with her left hoof.

“The tax pony I see has her colors and she’s a pegasus. It is very pretty,” he agrees.

<< Hey, ma. Burning off some magic. How’s everypony? >>

<< We’re fine, babe. How’d it go? >>

<< Really well. Up and flying just fine. Scanning G while she flew made it easy. >>
<< We’re on a cloud chillin now. Talk to ya later. Love you. >>

<< Bye, honey. Love you too. I’ll tell let your sire and dam know. >>

“Are you getting warmer?” Glacial asks. “You can’t get fevers, can you?”

Cure leans right and gives the filly a quick nuzzle. “Nah, but remember the whole cell discussion the other night?” At her nod he continues, “We all have unicorn cells too. They make magic and I can tell them to speed up. I get warmer when I do that because there’s some energy lost as heat when my body converts sugars to magic, however that works.”

“Why are you doing that, though?” Drift asks on his left.

The three had a lot of fun playing around and, as Cure suspected, it didn’t take much time for him to get proficient enough to get off the ground.

Flying, it turns out, isn’t nearly as difficult as many of the stories Ed read had implied. He can only assume the crashing was played up for comedic purposes. There’s no reason why anypony would start by bucking a new learner off a cloud or throwing them off a balcony.

Instead, Glacial started him with simple wing exercises and worked from there. Once she gave her approval he would lift off the ground and practice hovering, then land again. From hovering, she had him hop up into a tree and glide down.

When she decided he was gliding well enough she had him use his wings to fly slowly under his own power in a straight line. Diving and landing came next, then turning in the air, and finally climbing.

Glacial was a fantastic teacher, and she was perfectly fine with him busting out his horn and scanning her to demonstrate exactly how the body should be positioned and should move for different maneuvers. Being able to see in detail down to the muscle twitches and everything made duplicating her motions a breeze.

The only thing Cure really had to do was account for his different body shape. Mass-wise, even though he is heavier, once reduced by their aura their weight difference is only a couple kilograms.

In only a few hours Cure went from being completely land-bound to being able to lift off, gain altitude, fly straight, and successfully turn without crashing. It’s all about small changes in wing and body position. Make a big sudden change in the way the wing is held and anypony could lose control.

Cure is certain that, and Glacial agreed, it does get far more complicated in high winds or even further off the ground where there’s drafts and changing currents. Even in those conditions, though, at low speeds there should always be time to compensate for unexpected changes.

It’s only when hitting an unexpected, powerful windflow that pegasi typically lose control, and experience will almost always kick in before they hit the ground. A large part of their flight education is dedicated specifically to learning how to properly compensate when something goes wrong.

That seems logical to Cure. Edward never took aviation courses, despite wanting to, but even a passing familiarity with commercial flying gave him enough knowledge to understand that, just like driving on a highway, going straight and steady is easy; it’s the responding to the unexpected that takes education and experience.

Depending on how things go in May it might be possible to take legitimate flying lessons, but that’ll depend a lot on how discussions with the princess go, assuming they happen at all. He’s not ever planning on being a professional dogfighter, though, so for now just being able to quickly go from A to B is huge.

Baltimare is now just a short flight away. He could, in all likelihood, fly to Canterlot in an hour or two if needed. He declined Drift’s urging to go all-out, but both girls agreed that his earth pony muscle power would give him a huge advantage in acceleration, top speed, and endurance.

This is especially true when considering he can change his wing configuration and go as high as necessary to find a level where winds will either help or, barring that, be minimally contrary to his flight direction. He has the griffon that owns Early Bird’s Beakery to thank for the improved lung design that permits this.

He may lack the magical ability pegasi have to boost their cold resistance, but he can also alter his body shape to increase insulation and reduce drag. The physical armor and shield spells also serve to reduce air resistance. The armor more than the shield due to its shape contouring around the target as opposed to a shield that’s mostly spherical.

With a runic circuit added to his subdermal mesh he expects he’ll stay plenty warm enough regardless of the outside conditions, but he still makes a note to eventually try to find an aquarium where he can hopefully scan some deep sea creatures for their cold environment adaptations.

Right now the brown bear from the zoo, Ruth he recalls, has the best insulation of anything he has scanned. That, combined with some of the tricks ducks use to not freeze their feet off should be adequate, even at high speeds and low temperatures. He would probably have to dip low or slow down before looking around though, otherwise he’s worried his eyes could freeze solid.

“I sent a message to my mom and am recharging the crystal. The spell uses a freaking ton of magic for what it does, so I’m just speeding up my magic generation. Here in a week or so I should get a mid-high crystal in the mail. That’ll let me basically spend all day just constantly pushing my magic. The more you use, the bigger your pool becomes.”

“So basically,” Drift asks, “you’re using as much magic as possible all the time and pushing yourself to make more?”

Drift had a lot of fun playing with the different wing shapes. She isn’t going to keep the alicorn / duck wing shape normally so as to not draw attention, but Cure knows she’ll be begging for him to reshape her wings every time they go flying in the future. When he’d disclosed the princess’s approximate airspeed estimate she lit up in excitement at the possibility of even coming close some day.

“Yep. Anytime I get full and remember to, I send her something. Usually just ‘Hey I’m burning off some magic, how’s it going?’”

“Has it helped much?” Glacial asks.

“My magic capacity has tripled since I got my mark. When I’m pushing myself all day it forces my magic pool to grow really quickly. Well, sort of. It’s still slow, but there’s no rush. The princess suggested doing things to help ponies with my mark will do that too, but I can consistently do this, especially once that crystal arrives.”

She follows up asking, “Why will the crystal make a difference, though? Can’t you just send messages whenever?”

“I can, yes, but with the crystal I won’t really need to. It holds about half as much magic as a unicorn that uses magic all the time does. Like Dawn’s sire, Mr. Haze. If he has a hundred magic units, whatever you want to call them, I have maybe like three now. The crystal I ordered should hold around fifty. I can charge it all day at school and then empty it with a few teleports or longer messages. It’s just kinda easier and more consistent.”

“Seems like a waste of bits,” Drift points out.

“Kind of, maybe, but if I ever needed to I could put a shield spell in it that it would take a unicorn a lot of work to break through, for example. Or I could buy a half dozen of them, for a lot of bits mind you, and have six shields that few unicorns could ever get through. Or attack spells that somepony would be unprepared to defend against from an earth pony.”

“I guess that’s not a total waste then,” she agrees. “Especially with how nuts you are.”

“Hey, you agreed it’s better to be safe than sorry. It’s really just another form of exercise for me. One that’ll take years to really do a whole lot, but should eventually be worth all the work. The freaking chief physician at Baltimare Hospital herself told me that from ten to thirteen my magic capacity should explode if I keep it up. Imagine if before then I can be at four, five, or maybe even ten times what I started with. Who knows what the limit is.”

Glacial looks a little unsure at Cure. “Uhh… how much magic can you eventually end up with?”

“Well I would never be able to hold a candle to the boss lady, but think of it this way. Solar’s capacity when he left for basic was about seventy to eighty on that same scale, okay?” Both girls nod that they’re following along. “When I asked him how often he burns off all his magic he said never because it makes him feel like crap.

“Just imagine. If Solar, who never exhausted himself, is an eighty or so on the scale, how high could you go if you burned yourself out all day, every day, for years?”

“Very, I guess,” Drift concedes.

Glacial nods along and asks, “Why do you think you’ll ever need that, though?”

“Because I’m eight and have had my mark for four months and I’m already a player in the big game. A tiny one, granted, but that’s not a good pond to be a small fish in. Eventually I may need the kind of power that comes from working like that. What’ll happen if I need it and don’t have it?”

Both girls shrug, unsure how to answer. “Yeah, I don’t know either,” he agrees. “I’d rather have it and not need it than the other way around, though. If it costs me a few thousand bits for crystals and more food then that’s fine. I’ll just see an extra few customers. Having more magic will help with those too, though. In a year or so I should be able to just do a deaging without getting tired at all. One wipes me out now.”

The three sit in silence for a few minutes, just laying on a cloud and watching the town. Cure is perfectly content to sit snuggled between the fillies. The comforting warmth and physical touch on each side makes him want to lay his head down and take a nap. It seems odd to him how easy it is to just sleep all the time, and he wonders if it’s the result of just being a pony or if it’s because of the more relaxed, peaceful existence.

“Hey, can I ask you two some more cultural things? Like, if I’m out flying and I don’t know pegasus stuff, I’m probably going to look dumb. The whole ‘my parents are earth ponies’ thing should work for some, but eventually I’ll run into somepony that thinks I’m being neglected or something from not knowing.”

“Sure,” Glacial instantly agrees. “Like what?”

“Putting a wing over somepony. Is that a romantic gesture?”

“Not always, but with somepony your age it can be,” she confirms. “You usually only do that to your mates or young foals. Siblings are fine too. Or if you’re sleeping next to somepony it’s fine there. It depends on the situation.”

“Okay. I’ve never seen this, but I’ve heard of it. Having somepony’s feather in your mane. Another mate thing?”

“That’s old,” Drift explains. “That’s like… pre-unification stuff right there. I don’t think anypony does that anymore.”

“Huh. It seems kinda romantic to me,” he argues. “Well, whatever, if it’s not in style then moving on. What about the whole preening thing? Family, friends, foals, flings, another f word for lovers?”

Glacial giggles at the examples. Drift cracks a smile and answers, “That’s more of a friend thing than a lover thing. Some feathers are hard to reach and get lined up right.” She pauses and looks over his wings, then pokes him. “Lift,” she commands.

Doing as ordered, Cure lifts the wing on his left, then the one on Glacial’s side just to see what happens.

“What the hay?” Drift starts. “Your feathers are all… wait… you can use your talent, can’t you?”

Cure whistles innocently as, suddenly, several of the feathers on each side shift slightly out of place. “I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

Growling at the frustrating colt, Drift leans over and chomps down right at the base of the wing, smiling triumphantly at her attack. Glacial just giggles at the way the colt is teasing her friend.

“I… umm… I’m not like, ticklish or something, Drift,” he explains, putting the feathers back and lowering the right wing. “Was that supposed to hurt, feel good, or what?”

“It should have caused a muscle spasm,” Glacial explains. “Quit being a butt, Drift. You know stuff like that won’t work on him.”

With a huff, she releases the wing and faces back towards the town. “Can’t stand you,” she mumbles under her breath.

“Aww, but baby,” he teases, reaching over her withers with the attacked appendage, “you can pretend all ya want, I know you can’t resist me.” Finally in place, he drops the wing across her back, reaching all the way over her left side and pulls her firmly against his body. With a smile he leans over and nuzzles against her cheek while she’s frozen, wide-eyed, in place.

Glacial giggles at them from the other side and leans more heavily against him, for a moment ignoring the now kicking and thrashing filly on his other side. “Don’t be mean, Cure. Just because you’re stronger than her doesn’t mean you get to be a bully either.”

“Okay, okay, calm down, Drift. Jeez.” He lifts the wing off her and folds it against himself, then leans over and gives her a friendly nuzzle. “Do you want me to fix you up? I don’t need to preen you, I can do it all with my talent. I’ll have to use a tiny, tiny bit of fat from ya to repair the keratin in your feathers and reoil you, though.”

“Fine!” she huffs, looking away.

“Do me too. And don’t think we’ve forgotten about those massages you promised,” Glacial instructs while poking his neck with her snout.

“Perish the thought, milady. It’s the least I can do for your help today. I can’t believe how fun flying is.”

Cure takes a look around. Seeing the pair are in the clear, he pops his horn out and hits all of them with a Cleaning cantrip, then puts it away and uses his talent to fix up their coat under their suits, rearrange their feathers, replace a few that had broken, and transmutes a few ounces of fat to give them a fresh coat of oil. Lilies for Glacial and lavender for Drift.

Drift lifts her wing and looks at the full, completely replaced, groomed, and oiled set of feathers. Folding it back down she can’t help but shake her head. “So damn unfair. It’s literally impossible to have feathers in perfect shape like that and you just do it in like ten seconds with no effort.”

“You’re welcome.”

“Do you know how much it costs to have somepony go through wings to fix them up like that?”

“I assure you I do not. I guess I kinda forgot about the beauty shop I bought your brushes from. I was thinkin they do manes, but if they had those then I’m guessing you can get your wings done there too. Is that something I should start offering as a service?”

“Yes!”

“She’s not wrong,” Glacial explains. “Some mares and stallions will go to a beautician and spend fifty to a hundred bits just for a professional washing, preening, cleaning, and a nice oil brushing. It’s a special occasion only thing. Getting the oil application smooth and brushed in properly by yourself is not easy. Or quick.”

“Eh… I don’t really wanna go the stylist route. I only did the design thing to draw ponies in initially. I mean, I still see them, but if I were going to choose between doing a deaging or giving somepony a fancy wing design, well… one is worth two and a half grand. The other is two to four hundred. One also is a life-changing event, so yeah. Do the math.”

“That’s true,” Drift agrees. “Besides, you’re completely unfair. You could see a hundred ponies in an hour if it only took you a few seconds to do us like that. You’d put them out of business.”

“I definitely don’t want to do that. Celestia knows, literally I bet, I’m making enough bits. I’m hoping to increase my net income by about thirty to forty percent here soon too.”

When both girls look at him curiously he explains, “When the princess visited she confessed they took samples of the plants in the garden. I had modified those plants. They’re super crops; tastier, stronger, healthier, hardier, faster growing, more nutritious, you name it. She said they would give me tax rebates based on their value.

“I admit I was kinda pissed they did it without asking, but I’m fine with it as long as the amounts they come up with are fair. I’d rather not have to get involved in food price stuff anyhow. I also have something else in the works I plan on presenting soon that may be more of a permanent solution for the whole tax thing.”

“Your trees?” Glacial asks.

“A tree, but not those. Those will be too, but I’m taking those straight to the boss lady when we go see the Wonderbolts. This’ll-”

“WHAT?” Drift shouts, startling Cure and Glacial.

“What the hay, Drift?” he asks.

“You’re going to see the princess when we go?!”

“Ahh fuck. Yes. Can you both promise to keep a secret from our friends? Not a bad one this time, just a surprise.”

“Are we coming with you?!” Glacial excitedly asks.

“Yes, but please-” he doesn’t finish the sentence before both girls are excitedly climbing all over him and cheering, basically dancing around and on top of him. “I’ll wait…” he mumbles.

After a minute they finally calm down enough for him to continue, both laying across his back possessively. Drift is across his withers with her haunches on his left and forelegs around his neck, Glacial is further down across his back facing the other way, head resting on Drift’s back.

“I wanted to surprise everypony, but at the rate I’m going everypony will know. Yes, you’re all coming with me to meet her. That’s why I told everypony they would really regret not coming. Dawn is aware since her sire is the local Guard XO.”

Cure can feel both girls’ back hooves dancing and their booties wiggling from their tails on either side of him and they both have those “I can’t even stop smiling” smiles on their faces.

“So, next question,” he calls, turning over his withers to look at them. “Should I be wearing a flight suit too? I… uhh… gotta be honest. When I’m in the air it’s awfully exposing. And drafty.”

Both girls crack up. He can feel them both shaking with laughter on his back. “Yeah, yeah, laugh it up. Y’all don’t have yer bits floppin around when you’re zipping around.” That doesn’t stifle their laughter at all, unfortunately, and Drift blurts out “dangly bits” while laughing uproariously into his mane.

Once she gets herself under control, Glacial agrees with Cure. “Lots of ponies, especially stallions, will wear flight suits. It depends on whether they’re trying to … umm…”

“Attract a mate?” he asks.

“A temporary one,” Drift blurts out, then snickers.

“Ah. Gotchya. Okay, and thanks again for answering these. I really don’t know how I would learn otherwise. Hmm… what else?” After a moment’s thought he asks, “Is there some particular… I dunno, formation? Like, if I’m flying with you two, is there somewhere I should or should not be?”

“Traditionally, mares surround the stallion,” Drift answers. “If you’re flying with a single mare she takes point. If you have a second the other one trails behind you. If three, one in front, two behind on each flank.”

“I don’t really care for the implications of those formations,” he admits.

“It was to protect the stallions,” Glacial explains. “Since there’s always more mares than stallions it was always really important to make sure the stallion is safe and protected. Back before the unification a flock losing a couple mares was bad. A flock losing a couple stallions could have been the end of the group. It’s not as important anymore, especially over friendly territory, but some traditionalists insist the mare’s place is in the front.”

“Okay, fair enough. That term, flock… is that a family unit? It’s not one earth ponies use.”

“Nah, that’s obsolete,” Drift clarifies. “It used to be a group of families that would move together, but you won’t see that anymore. I think pegasus and earth pony families basically work the same. Unicorns are dumb.”

“Don’t say that kinda stuff, Drift,” Glacial says, poking her friend. “That’s the kinda thing that’ll start an argument.”

“Well from a purely biological standpoint she isn’t completely wrong,” Cure argues. “As a species we have a five to one female to male ratio right now, last I heard. Artificially enforcing monogamy prevents eighty percent of eligible mares from finding mates.

“Well, discounting female only relationships, but you know what I mean. If we had a one-to-one ratio it wouldn’t be a big deal, but all they’re really doing is screwing over four out of five mares, roughly. It seems a little dumb, from a pragmatic standpoint.”

Both girls sit there quietly for a second, then Drift agrees with a weak, “Yeah! That’s what I meant.”

Sighing, Glacial shakes her head at the two. “Just fly in a line or … do you know what an echelon is?”

“A diagonal line?”

“Yep. Normally the strongest flyer is in front, so with your strength that would probably be you most of the time, once you have some experience.”

“You have to keep an eye out below you if you’re in front,” Drift warns. “Especially flying over some of the woods. Around here is pretty safe, but not everywhere in the country is. The second in line needs to watch too. Sometimes the pony out front is gone before anything can react, so really everypony should be aware of their surroundings.”

“Ah. Well, if it’s a safety issue I’m probably the best one to have up front just because I can kill anything that tries to grab me.”

“Right,” he can feel Glacial nod, “the whole spider venom thing.”

“Yep. That and armor and stuff. Is there anything important that I’m missing that I should be aware of?”

“Brushing,” Drift blurts out.

When Cure looks over his withers with a raised brow Glacial clarifies, “Not like grooming, brushing. She means when somepony runs a wing over you or your wing, especially when flying. It’s another lovers thing.”

“Jeez… so basically, anything y’all do with wings is basically flirting or more.”

“... mostly, yes,” she reluctantly agrees. “Wings, to a pegasus, are kind of the most important thing.”

“Well, unicorns are the same way with their horns, I suppose, and my parents lose their minds when I give them a hoof massage, especially since I started using hands instead of hooves. OH! That reminds me, I want to take you all out for Hearts & Hooves. Heavy too, if he wants. I ain’t leavin my bro behind like that.”

“Really?” both girls chorus at once.

“Yep! Hold on a sec, lemme ask my mom if she’s ok with me goin to Baltimare with you to book it real quick.”

<< Want to go book Hearts and Hooves massages, restaurant. That okay? >>

Drift, suddenly remembering something, perks up. “If we go to Baltimare you have to stay away from some areas.”

“Oh yeah, she’s right, Cure. Base Carol and some of the areas by the docks are restricted to anypony but Guards and dock workers.”

“Umm… I get the base, but why the docks?”

“Daddy says they search boats that are coming in,” Drift explains. “They don’t want anypony bringing things in that aren’t allowed. Pegasi and bats patrol for boats to make sure nopony tries to fly anything in around the docks.”

“That… doesn’t seem like it would work. There’s huge stretches of coastline that are, as far as I know, unpatrolled. What’s stopping a griffon from taking off fifty kilometers south and flying all the way to Hollow Shades or something?”

“Dunno,” she says, shrugging her wings. “Maybe they fly patrols down there too. Fort Meadow isn’t too far south. I bet it would be hard to fly all the way around that, then north far enough to somewhere inland while carrying much without being noticed. Maybe if they flew at night, but the bats would almost certainly see ‘em.”

“Huh… good point. Is there, like… a book or something that shows where it’s not okay to fly?”

“Probably,” she says, shrugging again. “Daddy said just stay away from the base and the docks, though.”

“The hospital,” Glacial adds. “They don’t want anypony getting in the way if there’s an emergency, so unless you get permission from the hospital don’t go there either. Well, unless you need help… which, I guess, you probably never would. And stay out of the way of any EMTs, guards, weather ponies, or fire ponies you see, too. Getting in their way will get you in lots of trouble.”

“Eh, if anything I would probably be tagging along to help the EMTs at least, but yeah, I could see that.”

“Other than those places just stay out of anypony’s way,” Drift says. “And remember, always break to the right.”

“Break right?”

“Mmhmm. If you and another pegasi end up flyin at each other you both break right. It should be fine around Baltimare, but you gotta watch when you’re somewhere with more pegasi.”

“Yep,” Glacial agrees. “When we go to the Wonderbolts show it’s probably best if you just stay on the ground. There’s a lot more places you’re not allowed to fly over the capital. The castle is a big one, of course, but also government buildings, some monuments, guard outposts… if you don’t have a map it’s best to stay on the ground or you can get an expensive citation.”

“Okay, good to know. I’m not sure I’ll do the wing thing in the capital though. There’s not like… some rule saying traffic at this altitude is for east, that is for west, or something like that, is there?”

“Huh-uh. That’s not a bad idea, but it’s hard to tell when you're six hundred meters up compared to six hundred and fifty, so… wait, do you know how to make a crystal that would do that?”

“Nah, it’s probably not that big of a deal. I’m guessin there’s not a whole lot of midair collisions, though.”

Drift shakes her head no, “Not unless somepony’s not watchin where they’re going. Or are drunk. Daddy says they arrest a few ponies every week for tryin to fly while drunk. Most know better, but there’s always at least a few idiots.”

“Cool. Thanks for givin me the rundown, ladies. How about I treat you both to a snack while waiting for her answer? There’s that bakery near Town Hall and I could use the calories.”

“Sure!” Drift chirps, hopping off his back. Glacial jumps up to follow, then both turn and make sure Cure is fine jumping off the cloud. It’s not super high up, but he is still a beginner. As he approaches the edge he looks for his target. It would be a little easier to get his bearings first, so once he spots Town Hall he takes a step, raises his wings, and jumps. Between their altitude and his wingspan he barely needs to flap at all.

<< Sorry, babe, but no. Not without an adult. >>

The three land and, once regrouped, make their way to the bakery. “Mom says I’ll have to wait until one of them can come. Probably because of the whole mugging thing with Dawn and Solar.”

Drift waves the issue away with a wing flick. “It’s fine. Let’s get a snack and then go get the wood you said you needed. I’m curious what you’re going to make with it.”

“Yeah, sure. Sounds good.”

<< Okay. At the bakery near Town Hall. Want anything? >>

“Alright, let’s get some treats and head back.”

“We’re home!” Cure calls, trotting in the door. On his back is a small pile of logs from the woods.

“Shh! She just fell asleep,” Vines whispers, turning to the three.

“Eh, it probably won’t matter,” he responds with a wing shrug. “Foals sleep through almost anything. If she wakes up I’ll entertain her until she konks out again.”

“True,” Title agrees. “She’ll be fine, babe.” Turning back to Cure she asks, “Got my pie?”

He glances over his withers to Glacial with a victorious smirk. “What’d I tell ya? Not even ten seconds.”

Giggling, Glacial grabs the brown paper bag off Drift’s back and carries it over to the pink mare. She’s curled around her little girl on a cushion with Vines laying opposite of her.

While she’s doing that Cure levitates the logs, save one, into a pile by the fireplace and hits them with another Clean cantrip to remove any dirt. He’d already ensured no eggs or bugs were in them, so they’re 100% pest-free. He floats his mat over, facing his mom and dam, and hops on; Drift leaning on his left and Glacial on his right, claiming his withers a moment later.

“Where’s dad?”

“Right here, champ,” he calls, stepping out of the kitchen. “Bet on yer mom and food?”

“Nah, they wouldn’t take me up on it. I told ‘em she’d ask within the first minute of us walking in the door.”

“I thought he was joking,” Drift says. “My sister is the same way, Mrs. Search.”

“Yeah, mom, don’t be upset. Your impulse control with food is every bit as good as a growing preteen that just got her mark. Congrats!”

“Shattap brat. Oh, and thanks for the treat, I guess.” Opening the bag, she reaches in and pulls out a slice of pecan pie. Cure at least can agree with her choice. Pecan pie is some fat-tastic shit, and ponies know their way around sweet treats.

“Now that you have your dessert,” Vines teases as she stands. She gives her wife a peck on her cheek and starts towards the kitchen, brushing against her husband on the way and calling over her withers, “I’m going to get our salads ready. Do you girls like mushrooms? I have a mushroom soup casserole in the oven, almost ready.”

“Sounds good, dam.”
“Thanks Mrs. Vines!”
Drift nods eagerly. “Sure! Thanks!”

Deed takes Vines’ vacated spot opposite of the three and flops on his barrel, watching as Cure focuses on the log he picked out from the stack. “Whatcha making, sport?”

“Well, Savvy’s a little young, probably, but I’ve seen some neat toys in catalogs that are good for coordination and stuff. Here, watch.”

The fillies and his sire watch on as Cure removes a two centimeter thick, hoof and a half tall, hollow end of the log, lifting it off the peg-like ending he’d separated it from. The result is a hollowed cap, basically, that he then reshapes into a two-hoof cube with the bottom missing.

On each side he removes a couple shapes; X’s, circles, squares, rectangles, triangles, and others in various sizes and slightly different configurations, all leaving behind empty spots as they fall into the cube. He lifts the cube and alters the pieces so they’re all bright colors, then uses his talent on the box and pieces, removing any moisture, then hardening and smoothing everything.

“There we go. Her very own shape sorting box. Next I’ll do the ring stack thing and maybe tonight when I get back I can come up with some kinda busy board.” With a fond smile he looks up to his sire and says, “Those things can keep foals busy for hours.”

“Not familiar with ‘em, champ. I’m sure yer sister’ll love it though. Lucky filly don’t know how good she’s got it.”

“That’s a neat idea, Cure. My parents want to have a foal next year. Do you think you could make one of those for her eventually?”

As the conversation continues Cure uses half of the remainder of the log for the ring stack toy. Cure can’t remember how many rings they normally have, so he plans for seven; one of each color including indigo with red being the largest at the base.

“Sure thing, G. I remember your dam mentioned that when I met her. I don’t mind a bit.”

“I think my parents are planning on having another too,” Drift says. “They haven’t told us anything but I overheard my sire talking about how excited he is for a colt.”

“Well they are due for one. Three fillies in a row and all,” Cure notes, focusing on the last few rings. “Who knows, maybe they’ll get really lucky and you’ll get a couple twin brothers.”

“That’s insanely unlikely. I’d be happy for them, though. We definitely don’t have enough pegasus colts out there,” she complains, sighing. “Still, I’ll probably end up with another little sister. That’s fine, Swirl’s been pretty easy-going most of the time.”

“She’s been asleep every time I’ve seen her. Your sister slept the whole time I was there too, Glacial.”

She nods explaining, “They wear each other out then fall asleep.”

“Yep,” Drift agrees, “be glad you haven’t seen them when they’re chasing each other all over the house. If the walls weren’t made of clouds they would have broken their necks by now. Wind can get them easy enough now that she has her cutie mark. Her turns are instant now.”

“Has she tried bouncing?”

“Bouncing?” she echoes.

Cure finishes with the rings and floats the set, along with the sorting box over to his mom. “See if she has any interest in those, ma. How was the pie?”

“Good, babe. Thanks, I’m guessing you want her to put the shapes through the right holes?”

“Yep. I would start with the ring toy, though. Stacking rings on a peg is pretty simple; the shape thing is probably way too advanced. I’m just not sure where the baseline is with foals.”

Cure sends a line-of-sight Message to his mom. << Remember I said everything on this planet is way smarter than on Earth? Even animals here can be near-sapient. I don’t know how that will apply to an actual sapient being, but foals at age two or three are smarter than humans at four, maybe five. >>

“I’ll see if I can show her how to stack them, honey. Thank you.”

“Sure thing, ma.” Turning to his left to face Drift, he clarifies the “bouncing” remark. “Yeah, her mark is a series of lines basically bouncing around. If her talent is like her mark she may be able to ricochet herself or maybe something she throws, who knows?”

“Huh… I’ll ask.”

“We haven’t studied any physics at school, but I have read a little at the Baltimare library. I would expect this to come up with flight training, but are you both familiar with the term inertia?”

“Yes,” Glacial answers, “it’s something to do with acceleration, right?”

“Not exactly. They’re sorta-kinda-related in that both of them involve motion. Acceleration measures change in velocity over time. Inertia is more like, how hard is it to either cause something to accelerate or cause it to decelerate. So objects with more mass have more inertia because it takes more work to either stop them or get them moving.

“I may be mixing it up with momentum. The two aren’t exactly the same, but they get used interchangeably enough I have a hard time clearly defining them. I think momentum is how much force is behind something but inertia is the force needed to stop or redirect it.”

Both girls nod along hesitantly. Drift asks, “Okay, and you think maybe sissy can… do what?”

“I have no way of knowing, but maybe she can mess with inertia somehow. Try throwing pillows at her and let her try to redirect their trajectory. If she can redirect inertia then maybe she can make them bounce instead of just hitting her. With some work maybe she can even cause them to bounce a specific direction like up or to the side or, maybe right back at you.”

Drift gives him a skeptical look. “You want me to throw pillows at sissy and tell her it’s to help her learn to use her special talent better?”

With an excited nod Cure instantly agrees. “Oh, yes, absolutely! If she has that ability then I’m really curious what it would be like if taken to the extreme. Control over inertia is, frankly, a terrifyingly powerful ability.”

“I’m not sure I follow, sport. It sounds like it could be useful, whatchya mean by terrifyin?”

“It all depends on the degree of control she has, but maybe she could somehow counter air resistance. Maybe she could take the energy from a dive and redirect herself upwards or something. Or, like my example, if somepony throws something at her maybe she can redirect it away or reflect it back at them. It’s worth testing. At the furthest extreme she may even be able to do that with magic since talents are magical abilities.”

Glacial pokes Drift in the side and adds, “If he’s wrong you get to throw pillows at her and blame Cure for it.”

Drift smiles and her ears perk up at the suggestion, nodding eagerly. “That is a good point! I’ll try it tonight.”

He leans over and pokes her in the neck with his snout. “You are going to … ya know, tell her first, right?” he asks, giving her another poke. “You’re not gonna just throw a pillow in her face, shrug, and say ‘Cure told me to’ and walk away, right?” He’s pretty sure he knows the answer when she gives him an innocent look and turns away smiling. “Hmm. I think I may send her a heads-up just in case.”

“Aww…”

“So, pa, how about after we meet up with Solar you and I head over to Baltimare and see about making appointments for Hearts and Hooves. It’s seven weeks away; they may have booked up already.”

“I doubt it,” Title interrupts. “I don’t think most ponies plan ahead like you do, honey. I’m betting you could do it later this week and still get in, no problem.”

“Today would be better, babe. I got nothin ta do after lunch and, as you know, this week’s gonna be busy.”

“Do you need help at work, pa? If you need something done I can do, like delivering paperwork, I can help out while ma’s off. I don’t think Miss Apple will mind too much.”

“Nah, champ, I’m gonna be trainin a new pony startin Tuesday. Yer ma an’ I talked it over and posted a help wanted ad in the paper a few weeks back. A nice unicorn mare answered it Friday before we went to the gym and she’s startin Tuesday mornin.”

Cure’s eyebrows shoot up into his mane. “What?! Why the hay is this the first I’m hearing about it?”

“Why would your parents talk to you about ponies they’re hiring?” Glacial asks.

He glances up and to the left to see the genuine curiosity on her face. It’s a legitimate question, at least under most circumstances. It’s not even wrong, exactly, here. He is just a foal and, if the mare is qualified then there’s no reason his sire should feel the need to consult him first. It’s not like he’s terribly involved in his parents’ business, after all.

“I guess there’s no reason to. I dunno, it just seems like we talk about most things,” he offers with a shrug. “Well, congrats, pa, ma. Is she filling in for mom or what?”

“Remember when we went to the tax office the first time?” Title asks.

“Vividly,” he answers with a slight growl.

With a snorted laugh she nods in acceptance. “Yeah, I guess you would. I bet Ms. Audit does too. Anyhow, you had suggested we sit down and figure out what we spend the most time on that we’re the least suited for. Well, according to your sire she’s got a cutie mark in finance.”

“Huh. That’s fantastic. Are we talking equinal finance or corporate finance?”

“Equinal, I think,” his sire answers.

“That’s great! Does she do retirement planning too?”

“I… uhh… didn’t ask, son. I could see if she does when she starts.”

“Well was it on her résumé?”

“Nah, she worked at a bank as a teller. She got her cutie mark a few years ago and they changed her duties, but she had to relocate when her coltfriend moved for his job. She said the pay wasn’t much better when they ‘promoted’ her either.”

“Ah. So wait, if she just came on Friday and is starting Tuesday and is from out of town then how’d you check her references?”

“She had a letter of recommendation from the bank.” At Cure’s continued stare Deed clarifies, “It was on official Bank of Equestria letterhead, stamped and signed, son. That’s good enough.”

“If she just moved here, what branch was it from? Not Baltimare, I’m guessing.”

“Huh-uh. It was from the Fillydelphia branch.”

“You seem oddly curious about this,” Drift observes. “How do you even know so much about hiring?”

“I’ve considered hiring somepony to take care of my appointments. Lemon volunteered, though, so I didn’t have to. I will when I eventually have a real office, though, so I looked into the process.”

“Here?” Glacial asks.

“It wouldn’t be until I’m at least twelve or so, and then I’m thinking Baltimare, more than likely. I dunno, though. I have so many irons in the fire right now it’s hard to make plans. Truth be told, I could probably go to any random city in the nation, hire ponies to pass out flyers, then come into town for two or three weeks and make a few hundred grand, then move to the next town.”

Glacial’s hooves tighten around his neck when he throws the number out and Drift freezes, aside from her wings that flip up, slapping her friend across the left side of her face.

Sputtering, Drift barely gets out, “A few hundred grand?!”

“Eh, probably? I mean, if I pass out flyers that say, ‘De-Aging Treatment - Arrive in your 50’s, 60’s, 70’s. Leave looking and feeling 25 again!’ along with a date span and a time and place for ponies to make appointments. I bet you I could get at least fifty, maybe a hundred ponies to show up. That’s a hundred and twenty five thousand to a quarter million bits. I could do three cities in a quarter and, with a little luck, maybe make over a half million or so. With plenty of food and some breaks I could do twenty or more per day.”

“You could also get killed when somepony tries to rob you,” Title helpfully points out.

Cure scoffs at the suggestion. “I wish them luck.” He pauses a second and asks, “Are there, like… bounties on bad ponies? Like, if somepony tries to rob me and I knock ‘em out can I turn them into the Guard for bits?”

“Son… are ya serious?”

“Why not? I don’t plan on lookin for ‘em, but ma’s right. If somepony sees me making a buncha money there’ll eventually be somepony that tries something. Unless I went in the right disguise, that is. I bet there’s a limit to what thieves would be willing to try to tackle.”

Title facehooves, then shaking her head explains, “The Guard will occasionally put bounties on ponies, yes, but what kind of disguise would be scary enough to ward off thieves and not scare off your customers?”

“... damn. You’re right. I could always make some kinda creature up that’s not real and maybe they would be leery of trying something against the unknown, though. Or just something ponies don’t encounter often, like a sphynx.”

“The only sphynx I’ve ever heard of was a mare. Err, female,” Glacial says.

“Right but you’ve only heard of one. There’s no reason I couldn’t pretend to be a male one. Or, heck, just move it all internal and leave the whole area blank and really confuse ponies.”

Drift bursts out laughing at the suggestion, leaning more heavily against Cure as her body shakes. When he looks at her curiously she freezes, “Wait, are you serious?”

“Umm… yeah?” he cautiously answers.

Drift’s face goes through several emotions and, through the minute of different twitches and odd looks, she repeatedly starts to ask a question, then stops, and finally sighs and shakes her head. “Ya know what, never mind. You’re just weird.”

“I think we’ve all come to accept that at this point, sweetie,” Title agrees consolingly.

“Wash up and come eat!” Vines yells from the kitchen.

Glacial hops off of his withers as he starts to stand. “Good deal,” he starts, “I was starvin. If you two are up for it, how about you go check with yer dams after we eat. We’ll go say hi to Solar and then head over to Baltimare with my sire and book those appointments.”

Author's Note

Typical chapter creation process:
1. Start typing
2. Reach like 5-8k words
3. Think "good enough"
4. Pass through, do edits, revisions, clean-up, add some details, etc.
5. Publish 10-15k chapter
6. Insist shorter chapters and more time skips are coming
7. Realize that there's an important event coming up that I don't want to skip over
8. Make a chapter for said event
9. Return to step 1

For folks asking about more chapters, or curious about my publishing schedule, I almost always do two per week, normally one on Mon or Tues and another Thurs or Fri.

52 through 54 are mostly done but I have an IRL event this week that may prevent me from publishing 52 later. We'll see.

I would encourage you not to comment asking for more chapters or when the next update will be, and I don't mean on this story specifically. I mean in general on any story. I'm writing this story because I want to, but I have felt the "I need to finish a chapter" pressure and, if anything, it discourages writing. I don't plan on going anywhere, but I have seen many, many stories go on hiatus or just stop when the author felt too much pressure. I enjoyed many of those stories, so please don't inadvertently do that to others.
/end minirant

Chapter 52: It's a Different World, Mr. Franklin

Saturday, February 7th, 909 AB (6 days later)

“Are ya sure you should be givin yer boss flowers, son? I think most places frown on that kinda fraternization.”

“Har har, pa. I somehow suspect that Ms. Gale will be able to resist the urge to leap over the table and have her wicked way with me.”

Cure, with help from his dam, had made a set of flowers like he had for Glacial and Drift for Hearth’s Warming. He figures it’s the least he can do considering how great she’s been. The fact she took care of the request for Solar was no small feat, after all.

Cure doesn’t really consider them square; he still feels like he owes her a favor, despite his mom’s assurance that most ponies don’t keep track like that. Still, a small bit of effort, some magic, and twenty bits for a planter and some potting soil don’t equate to a prestigious, exclusive party invite in Cure’s book.

Cure had used a Sending crystal the previous morning and she had a pegasus run a message out saying she and Dr. Care would be happy to meet during his normal shift.

This is the first time since he helped with the births that he wasn’t flying to Baltimare to fix somepony’s disabled or missing horn or wing. Deed had opted to accompany him alone for the meeting.

“I dunno, champ. If yer anything like yer old pa the ladies may be incapable of holdin back.”

“Uh huh. Well at least I’ve come by it honest. I’ve already got two, maybe four. Hell, maybe six… seven? I don’t even freaking know,” Cure half-complains. “I dunno how this is all supposed to work, dad. Monogamy has some issues, sure, but at least it’s… not simple exactly, but certainly more straightforward.”

“I suppose,” Deed halfheartedly agrees, “but I never dated a unicorn. That whole possessive thing just don’t work for us, son. I tells ya what, champ. I’ll give ya a scenario and you just ponder on it a minute, okay?”

“Sure. Lay it out for me, pa.”

“Alright, so let’s say ya have a pretty lil unicorn lady, right?”

“Uh huh.”

“And ya got yerself a big strong earth pony stallion.”

“Okay.”

“Now on average, how tall ‘n heavy is the mare?”

“Dad, I know where you’re going with this, but that scenario doesn’t apply here.”

“Not as much, but to a degree, it does. That mare’ll be a hoof and a half, maybe two hooves shorter ‘n a hundred kilos less than the stallion. That part may not apply, but what about the things that magic does that ya just can’t make up for?”

“Like… stamina and strength?”

“You betcha, champ. I know a few earth ponies what married another tribe. Ain’t a one of ‘em that doesn’t have an earth pony wife too. Just like Spring, Berry, ‘n Silver. Now I ain’t a gossip, ya feel me, colt? But Silver comes down ta the Tilted Wagon sometimes too, and purty as she is, Spring just can’t take care ‘a Silver by herself.”

“Huh. I gotta be honest, pa. Ever since you gave me that damn closet speech,” Cure pauses to glare at his sire’s snorted laugh, “every time I see Spring … Well, questions come to mind.”

Deed bursts out laughing at the uncomfortable expression on Cure’s face. “Ponies come in all sizes, son,” he says with a chuckle. “Good thing for her, so do closets!” he shouts, followed by a deep, boisterous laugh.

“Ugh… I would say TMI but frankly I’ve seen about six hundred snatches by now. I’m pretty sure I’ve seen just about anything you can imagine. At least, as far as ponies go.”

“I reckon that all them scans helped with the thing ya got in here.”

“Not at all, actually.” Cure glances over to his sire and his spatially compressed bags. “That’s all thanks to the twins, actually.” Quickly clarifying he adds, “Your twins, I mean. Not Heavy’s sisters.”

“I kinda figured, sport. I thought it had ta be somethin ya magicked up based on everypony ya scanned though.”

“Nope. No matter the pony we all have those cells at the start. Just think, pa, if these work like I think they should then your and dam’s twins will end up saving more lives than anypony that’s ever lived. Well… probably. Anecdotally.”

“Huh. That’s pretty amazing, son. Here’s hopin.”

“Yeah. The scans did help with other stuff, though. I still need more scans of stallions but, one way or another, those’ll happen eventually. I’ve only scanned about twenty so far all year and only four have had the one issue. Still, that’s enough I feel I’m gonna have to let the boss lady know when I see her.”

Nodding along, Deed agrees, “Probably a good idea, champ. If fer nothin else so she can start plannin for the changes that’ll happen over the comin years. Ya know, one group ya won’t find in this town are them tall earth ponies. Ain’t none of them ‘round here. No hippogriffs either.”

“Uhh… are hippogriffs considered ponies, dad? I’m not trying to be a tribalist, I just don’t know.”

“They have a pony dam or sire, son. They’re plenty pony enough by my reckoning.”

“Huh. Good point. That’s probably one of those things foals don’t know and ask about at inopportune times normally.”

“That they do, champ. I’ve heard of ‘em pointin a hoof at one in tha store ‘n shoutin ‘Hey dam, what’s that?’ at the top’a their lungs.”

“Oof. That’s awkward. Josh did something like that once to Cyndi. This was before Ed met her. They were at the store and he was like four. Well, apparently there was a rather corpulent fellow at the register… err, the cashier’s counter-”

“I know what a register is, son. Ya just don’t see many ‘cause they ain’t cheap.”

“Oh. Sorry. I don’t think… wait, that bookstore in Canterlot had one. Damn, it didn’t even…” Cure chokes back a snerk, then overemphasizes, “it didn’t register at the time! BAHAHA!”

“Ugh… dad jokes are my job, colt.”

“Whatever. I’m hilarious. Anyhow,” Cure pauses to smile and wave at a passing mare. She’s a customer of his he did a manejob for a few weeks back. “Anyhow,” he continues, ignoring his sire’s smirk, “so they’re behind this lardass at the register and Josh points at the dude and blurts out, ‘Mommy! Why’s that man so fat? Is that why I can’t have Ho Hos?’

“Just for reference, Ho Hos were like a chocolate sheet cake with a frosting, then rolled up with a thin chocolate shell.”

“Huh. Sounds good. Ya oughta run some of them ideas past Lemon. She may like one.”

“Yeah, not a bad idea. So, anyhow, the fat dude apparently didn’t take it well. His cart was full of Twinkies, Cupcakes, Ding Dongs, and a ton of Pepsi and Doritos. Basically all shit food that’ll turn anyone into a fatass, right? Cyndi insists she didn’t see any actual Ho Hos in the cart, though, so I’m not sure why Josh picked that of all the damn things, but kids, ya know?”

Deed doesn’t say anything, he just gives Cure a knowing look.

“So this poor guy turns around, looks at Josh, looks at Cyndi, looks back at his cart, and just walks right out of line there on the spot. Didn’t say shit or anything, didn’t even acknowledge her trying to apologize or get Josh to. God I hope the dude didn’t go hang himself or something.” Cure waits a few seconds then adds, “He woulda broke the tree! HA!”

Deed doesn’t laugh at all, instead looking at his son curiously. “Hang himself?”

“Oh. That must be something ponies never considered. Uhh… it’s a method of committing suicide that’s associated with depression. And now I feel like a dick for joking about it. Ugh.”

“Damn, son… That’s a little messed up.”

“Yeah,” he agrees, “it’s called gallows humor, pa. You know what gallows are? Is that a thing here? I bet not if hanging is unfamiliar.”

“Can’t say I do, son.”

“That’s good, I suppose. It’s not a happy subject. I’ll spare you the details and just say that gallows are where they would execute people. Gallows humor is a joke about a subject that’s normally not funny at all.”

“Ah. Gotcha. I figured it was somethin like that. Ya know, I recall a certain cerulean colt causin a scene like that once.”

“Oh yeah?”

“Yup. I wanted ta surprise yer dam, so I decided ta take ‘er out ta early dinner for Hearts ‘n Hooves over in Baltimare. You were only three, almost four, at the time and, on the way home, were runnin around while we waited fer the train to pull in.

“Well, ya musta annoyed this young unicorn mare and she said somethin to ya, no idea what; just behave or whatnot. You stopped ‘n looked up at her and, loud as can be, gave a big ‘ol sniff and asked, ‘Why do ya smell funny?’”

“Oh my God…”

“Yep. She was in town from the capital and, as you know…”

“She had her estrus hit on the way here.”

“Sure did. Or close enough. She musta forgot ta pack her medicine cause she was ready. I remember when ya came runnin back ta yer dam and I… she was mortified on that mare’s behalf.”

“Wait… you told me that was the scent of a beautiful flower -”

“just startin ta bloom! HA! I’m surprised ya remember, colt.”

“Eh, some things stick, ya know?”

“That they do, son. That they do.”

“So back to the topic at hoof, what about kirin? Are they considered ponies at all?”

“No. Why in the hay would they be?”

“Aren’t they… like, what you get when a dragon and a pony have a kid?”

Deed looks at his son like he grew a second head. “No. Where did ya hear that?”

“I don’t know… I think maybe Ed read a story where it happened and the foal was a kirin. Are they a totally separate species like zebras?”

“I… think so? I dunno, champ. I’ve never even seen one. Then again I don’t know what happens when a dragon and a pony try to have a foal, neither. I’m bettin a disappointed dragon and a scratched up pony with third degree burns. I don’t care ta ponder on tha results of a mare ‘n a dragon tryin,” he adds with a shudder.

“Huh. Hey, pa, what do you think about running a newspaper article to try to get more scans? Minotaurs, diamond dogs, dragons… I could use a few more griffons too. Twenty bits to show up, let me, in disguise, use my talent on ya, and I’ll even heal ya if I can. Think I would get a few hits?”

“I think you’d save yerself some bits and trouble just goin down to the docks and speaking to a few boat captains. Plenty ‘a minotaur, griffons, and an occasional abyssinian comes through there. Zebras too, of course. Heck, I bet you set up a stand with a sign that says ‘Hangover Cure, ten bits’ you’d have a line halfway ‘cross tha ocean.”

“Hangovers take a lot of water to fix. I can help them, but it’s not immediate like cuts, breaks, etcetera. We’ll hafta test that, pa. Also, I think zebras are similar to us as far as their make-up.”

“I don’t think they are, champ. They’re not strong like us.”

“Yeah but that’s on the metaphysical side. I’m pretty sure they have the TK field, though maybe not as strong. Dunno. Do abyssinians have magic at all?”

“Uhh… I think they do. I’m not sure though. Gotta be honest, son. Yer old pa ain’t been around the world a lot.”

“Fair enough, dad. One day you’ll be able to if ya want. You ever been to Las Pegasus? If it’s like the equivalent I’m familiar with, you could have some fun there.”

“I haven’t. We used to talk about goin to places like that, but honestly I think yer dam and I are more the cabin in the woods, hiking, and quiet sunset dinner kinda ponies, champ. Yer ma, though, she’s got a wild streak in ‘er when she drinks.”

“Yeah I can see that. She’s definitely the wild one between the three of ya. Dam, bless her heart, I just can’t see her cutting loose.” Cure goes quiet for a few steps and looks up. Deed, sensing the serious look, turns to look down. “Dad, I’m going to ask you something and, before you answer one way or another, I want to promise you that there’s very very little chance I’ll become violent either way, alright?”

“Not exactly encouraging…”

“Did her family hurt her? I know they broke her heart, but… ya know what I mean, right?”

Deed takes a deep breath and slowly exhales. Facing forwards again he answers, “They did not. You don’t have to worry about that, son. They hurt her by turning their rears on her, but they never laid a hoof on ‘er.”

“Okay. I can… not exactly accept that, but they don’t have to worry about Vendetta or anything.”

“That… sounded kinda like one of yer capital letter words, son.”

“Yeah. It should.”

“...”

“There’s Ms. Gale. I hope she likes ‘em. C’mon,” he calls, trotting ahead.

As usual, once Cure and Deed get into “typical pony” visual range the cheery pegasus brightens up and waves a wing in their direction. “Good morning, Cure! Good morning, Mr. Deed! How are you both doing today?”

“Pretty good, Ms. Gale,” Cure cheerily replies as they follow her in the clinic. He calls out a greeting to River as they pass by the desk and make their way to the usual meeting room. As they enter they find Dr. Care sitting on the other side doing some paperwork. She quickly puts it all away and greets them both. Surprisingly, Mrs. Hire is present as well.

“Hiya, Dr. Care, Mrs. Hire! Ms. Gale, I brought ya a thank you gift. I hope that’s not inappropriate, but I wanted to show my appreciation for your help with those tickets, not to mention how accommodating ya always are.”

“Oh, Cure! You didn’t need to get me anything… Are those flowers for me?” she asks, pointing a wing at Deed’s back.

“You betcha. They’re special, too. Maybe put ‘em on the floor instead of the table, dad?”

Deed squats down so Cure can rear up and, using his lightening aura on the pot, easily lifts them off his sire’s back while balancing himself on his hind legs. He sets them to the side of the table and, out of sheer curiosity, Dr. Care comes over to investigate as well. Mrs. Hire is seated closest to the edge of the table and able to see easily.

“So yeah, these flowers are for you, but don’t worry, I’m not askin ya out on a date,” he teases with a wink. The gray pegasus giggles at the joke and gives him a fake pout. “Just like those tickets for Solar, I tried to think up presents for all my other friends. A pegasus filly I hang out with mentioned that high quality, scented oil isn’t cheap, so I made these plants for her and the other pegasus in our group.

“The flowers themselves aren’t too special, but the leaves extrude a little oil. They’d be great for a touch-up or maybe to pack for travel or something. The bulbs are filled with a perfumed hydrophobic, antifungal, safe-to-eat, so forth and so on oil that, according to them, is really nice.

“It’s based on the gland that ducks have, just better and scented like each flower. If you prefer another flower just say the word; I can make them smell like just about anything. OH! I almost forgot, their sires prefer the leaves ‘cause they don’t smell as strong.”

Deed, during Cure’s explanation, moves out of the way and is sitting by the table looking over the mares with amusement. The three, Gale in particular, are thoroughly impressed by a pot of pretty flowers, meanwhile he’s standing there with, possibly, the biggest breakthrough in medical history in his saddlebags.

Nosing at the flowers, Gale can’t help but remark, “Woooow! That’s amazing, Cure! They smell wonderful!” Looking around for a second she asks, “Does anypony have something we could cut one of these open with?”

“Ah, I’ve got something,” Cure responds, holding up a hoof. The three mares freeze on the spot when, right out of the edge of his hoof, he sprouts a small claw not unlike a cat’s. It’s not big or scary, but from their wide-eyed stare it was certainly unexpected. Cure plucks a bulb from the lily stalk, turns his hoof over so it’s facing upwards, then sheds a thin layer of keratin into a small dish before cutting open the bulb.

The ease with which the cut happens and the clean, straight nature of it don’t escape Dr. Care’s notice, and she can’t help but comment. “That looks like a cut from a scalpel, Cure. How can you make a claw so sharp?”

“It’s just a very fine edge. Unicellular, in fact. Keratin won’t stay sharp long, but since I can reform it as needed it might as well be a scalpel.”

“Huh… that’s useful.”

“Eh, I’m sure it would be if I ever did surgery. Thankfully I don’t see that being something I need to worry about. There’s not many everyday uses for a knife, thank goodness. Here,” he says, retracting the claw and hoofing over the small dish, “see what you think. I didn’t think to bring a brush, like a dummy. Sorry.”

“Oh! It smells amazing, Cure!”

Dr. Care looks at the dish and asks, “Not that I doubt you or anything, but are you sure it’s hypoallergenic?”

Cure wrinkles his snout in thought for a moment, looking intently at the oil. “I’m pretty sure it should be. I guess it’s almost a given that somepony out there may be allergic to it, or more specifically the pollen, but so far I haven’t heard anything. Just like any other product it’s probably a good idea to try it on a small spot first and make sure you don’t have a reaction.”

“That’s a good idea. Gale, I’d put a dab on the back of a foreleg just to play it safe. I’m confident Cure’s stuff will work, but like he said, there’s somepony out there allergic to almost anything you can come up with. You don’t want to find out you’re the unlucky one after putting it all throughout your wings.”

“Definitely not! I’ll try it out when I get home, Cure!” She sets the little tray on the table and almost leaps on Cure, wrapping him in her forelegs and, with slowly flapping wings, lightens him with her aura, and wiggles back and forth squeezing him to her chest in a tight hug. “Thank you so much! You’re such a doll!” she cheerily shouts, giving the blushing colt a nuzzle between his ears before setting him back down.

Even Dr. Care can’t hold back a slight chuckle at the bewildered colt as he makes a quick retreat to the other side of his sire. Gale, in her own little world, happily picks up the pot while humming a cheery tune and sets it by her chair between the other two mares, stealing occasional glances over. Every time she looks at the flowers her wings give a little flutter that Cure and Deed both find adorable.

“Right, so, Gale said you had something to share with us. Given you requested my presence I’ll assume it wasn’t just for flowers… unless you have another bouquet for me in your pack?” she asks with a slight smile.

“Not flowers, exactly. I think you’ll like this even better. Mrs. Hire? Not that I’m not happy to see you, but I’m surprised you came too. Horn’s not giving you any trouble, is it?”

Looking a little uncomfortable, the light brown mare begins, “Oh, no! That’s simply wonderful! I can’t thank you enough, again. It’s been an absolute life changing experience being able to finally do everything most unicorns can. And, of course, I’m delighted to see you, too, Cure. Unfortunately I felt it necessary for me to come in pony to address a CR issue.”

“CR?” he confusedly mumbles. When it dawns on him that means Creature Resources he lights up in realization, then is confused again. “Is something wrong with my paperwork or something?”

“No, no,” she assures him, “There’s nothing to worry about there. I did, however, get… I guess a complaint? It’s related to an incident that occurred at the Hearth’s Warming party.”

Still confused he asks, “The drinks? Alcohol doesn’t…” he trails off when she shakes her head no.

“A few older fillies complained that you threatened their friend and broke the game they were using at the time.”

“Ahh. The foals that tried to bully me,” he says, nodding his head. “What about them? I asked if anypony wanted to play shoe toss, the colt got in my face, and, I’ll admit, I did damage one of the three boards there, which I’ve already paid to replace.”

“So you did not threaten anypony?” she asks.

“Not at all. I mean, the other colt was two hooves taller than me and there were several fillies there. I didn’t threaten anypony,” he insists, brows furrowed.

Perfect Hire can tell he’s beginning to get frustrated, but dealing with issues like this, unpleasant as it is, is part of her job. Being the Assistant Director of Creature Resources means she doesn’t have the option of passing the bit to anypony else. “The complaint indicated you bent a metal bar in half, then straightened it out, then waved it menacingly at another foal.”

Flat out pissed at this point, Cure opens his mouth to respond, but Dr. Care cuts in first. “Did he strike anypony?”

“No… nothing in the complaint says anything about him doing anything actually harmful.”

The doctor fires back, “Then why even bring it up? Foals got into an argument. Nopony was hurt. He replaced the damaged equipment. Can we move on now?” she practically growls.

Hire turns fully to face the doctor and snaps back, “I got a complaint that I have to address. I’m addressing it! When we have a discussion about anything medical I’ll defer to you, but I can’t just ignore a complaint from an employee!”

Deed and Gale both look incredibly uncomfortable, but sit quietly. Gale scoots back slightly so she’s not directly between them, moving her plant behind her rear in case they trade blows.

“Fine!” Dr. Care shouts, turning to Cure. “Did that happen?”

“Yeah, I would argue that I didn’t do anything menacingly, but the facts are otherwise correct.”

She turns back to Hire and asks, “Is it addressed now? Is there something else you need?”

Hire, clearly pissed as well, growls out, “I need a signature damnit!” while slamming an incident form on the table, then slides it to Cure.

He looks it over. It’s a narrative of the incident and little more. The signature line indicates he accepts that the narrative is accurate, he accepts responsibility for the conflict, and has been consulted on the matter. “First off, none of this would have happened if that colt wasn’t a bully prick. He’s lucky I’m not a violent pony or it wouldn’t have been the stupid game that got broken. Also, this is for an employee. I’m an unpaid volunteer now, aren’t I?”

Every head turns to Hire who clarifies, “You’re technically an employee but you’re donating your wages.”

“Fine,” he says, picking up the paper and ripping it in half before throwing it across the table. “I quit. Take this form back to whatever filly’s parent it belongs to and tell them what their brat foal just cost you.”

All three mares look like they’re about to be sick.

“Uhh, sport?”

“What? I came here to hoof over, basically, panacea, and apparently it’s not as important as a foal’s argument that happened a month and a half ago that wasn’t even started by me and ended peacefully. If the Baltimare RHA thinks dealing with this is a good use of my time then I’ll find something else to do with it. Maybe I’ll hop on the train to Canterlot. I bet Dr. Crystal will be thrilled to have her name associated with this instead.”

“No! No!” Dr. Care shouts, emphatically waving her hooves side to side. “That’s not necessary!” Turning fully on Mrs. Hire, she points a hoof at the door. “Take that form, get back on that fucking train, and tell whoever filled that complaint they’re fired if I ever see their name on a piece of paper again!”

“You!” Hire points back, standing and getting in the doctor’s equinal space, “can’t fire anypony! That’s a CR function!”

The doctor stands so they’re chest to chest, despite the half-earth pont’s taller, broader stature. “I think you’ll find I very much CAN fire somepony. I am the CHIEF PHYSICIAN of a major metropolitan area! YOU would be AMAZED at how short the list of ponies I CAN’T have fired is! When the rest of the board hears that complaint almost made him walk you may find YOUR name is NOT on that list!”

Cure isn’t exactly sure what a chief physician is. It sounds pretty important, though. Judging from the look on Mrs. Hire’s face it’s probably a higher one than an Assistant Director of Creature Resources.

“Uhh, ladies,” Deed hesitantly calls. “I think maybe a foal’s argument has gotten out of hoof. Cure? Sign the form.”

“What? Why? I didn’t start that crap!”

“Did you do it?” he knowingly asks.

“Yeah, but-”

He points a large hoof at the torn form and sternly says, “Pick your battles, son. This ain’t worth all that.”

Grumbling, Cure looks at Dr. Care, “Do you know Mending?”

The two mares separate, each returning to their seat. Gale slowly inches forward so she’s at the table again, still looking a little nervous.

“Yes, but this is ridiculous,” she growls, piecing the form back together with her spell, then sliding it, along with a quill and ink pot, to Cure. She stares angrily at Mrs. Hire the whole time.

Cure reaches in his bag and pulls out a fountain pen, then signs the form and, scowling, slides it back across the table to Mrs. Hire, who now looks rather unhappy with how everything went.

“Are there any other Creature Resource issues you wanted to address, Mrs. Hire?” he tersely asks.

“No, that was the only one. Again, I’m sorry I even had to bring it up,” she softly admits.

“Me too. If there’s no other CR issues then I thank you for coming.” Silence hangs in the air as he stares impassively at the mare.

She stares back for a moment before the dismissal registers. She scowls and takes a breath to respond when Gale puts a hoof on her foreleg and shakes her head. Hire blows the breath back out, then gathers up the form, puts it and the rest of her things in her saddlebag and leaves without saying a word.

Everypony sits in silence for a minute until Cure lets out a sigh and decides to get on with it.

“Well, that’s not how I expected this to go.”

“Sorry about that, Cure,” Dr. Care warmly apologizes. “Neither of us knew why she insisted on coming. I suppose I should have comported myself more professionally as well. I am excited to see what you have to present today, though. You said something earlier about panacea?”

“Right.” Cure pauses to take a calming breath before continuing. “I was talkin to my folks the other day about how I’m happy with how the healing is going on weekends where you have somepony for me to fly over to help out. Heck, I think my shifts here are fine too, it’s just I felt like I’ve been really underutilizing my talent.”

“Oh? I hope you’re not putting too much pressure on yourself, son. I know you’re very mature for your age, but…” She trails off when Cure shakes his head no.

“No, see, that’s actually a great point, Dr. Care. I think most ponies, if they have a healing talent, they think, ‘Oh I need to go out and heal as many ponies as I can!’ Well, that’s admirable and all, but horribly inefficient under these circumstances.” Tapping his chest he finishes, “One pony is still only one pony, know what I mean?”

The two mares nod in acknowledgement, so Cure continues. “One pony can only do so much themselves. But what if it doesn’t have to just be me, myself, fixing patients? What if there was a way I could make something,” he motions to the oil plants, “that helps the brilliant doctors all over the nation help ponies instead?”

“That… would be phenomenal, Cure,” Dr. Care answers, somewhat confused, “but… are you talking about developing some kind of treatment for something?”

“Sort of. Bear with me here, when I scan something my talent doesn’t provide labels, ya know?”

“Sure. Okay.”

“When conception occurs there’s a small window where the embryo is… well, honestly, I’m not sure if embryo is even the right word at that stage.”

“How long after conception are we talking?”

Deed and Gale sit by quietly and watch as the doctor and Cure continue.

“I’ve scanned my dam every day since the next morning,” Cure explains. Both mares make a face as if they’ve taken a bite of something very unpleasant, meanwhile Deed can’t help but cover his face and quietly snicker.

“Yeah,” Cure adds, slowly nodding with a stricken face, “my talent ain’t exactly for the squeamish,” he solemnly explains. “Anyhow, I’m talking for the first few days after my brother and sister were conceived.”

“Twins?” Gale excitedly asks, reverting right back to her happy mood. “Oh my stars! Congratulations, Mr. Deed! I’m so happy for you! OH! Speaking of which, and sorry, I’m getting us a tad off topic, amazing work with the births, Cure!

“They kept your name out of the paperwork, but everypony on the board was very impressed with your performance. Especially with the redesigned workflow… that must have been exhausting for you,” she sympathetically finishes.

“Eh, it wasn’t that bad.”

“Ya fell asleep takin yer gown off, son.”

“Only the first time! That was two days in a row of working over ten hours! Not to mention how much magic I burned through, especially on day two.” Cure looks to Dr. Care and explains, “I’m not exaggerating, doc, I musta used enough magic on that second day that even you woulda run dry. Well, maybe, if you did it all at once.”

“Wow. That hardly seems possible for a foal your age. How’d you stay awake all day?”

“He didn’t,” Deed answers.

Cure ignores him, “Spite and stubbornness, I guess. And yes, I did!” he growls back to his sire, poking a hoof at his side. “I didn’t fall asleep until everypony was taken care of!” He turns back to Dr. Care and finishes, “I also ate like… twice my own body weight in sweets, I swear. If I couldn’t burn fat like I can I’d have a pooch right now.”

“A pooch?” Gale asks.

“A fat pouch hangin offa my belly,” he explains, tapping at his washboard-flat tummy and getting snickers from the two mares.

“Gale is right. That was very impressive work, Cure. Those freed up ponies helped quite a bit here and in Fillydelphia. If there’s ever anything you need, I assure you the board will be happy to help however we all can.”

“Cool. Thanks, doc!” he cheers, getting a warm smile back from Dr. Care. “So, anyhow, I found a very interesting cell structure in those early scans from my siblings. I don’t know what they’re called-”

“Origin cells?” she excitedly asks. “Or progenitor cells, but typically they’re called origin cells. We’ve theorized about their existence, and I’m sorry for interrupting, but if you’ve actually witnessed them, that’s amazing!”

“Yep. Let’s set everything up.”

“You bet, champ.” Deed pops open his right saddlebag as Cure reaches into his left. They both pull out plants, of a sort, that look unlike anything Dr. Care or Gale have ever seen. Each one removes two from the spatial bags, arranging them in a square on the table.

They each look like short tree trunks, though with a smooth nearly-black wood and no bark. Discounting the pots they are in, which barely fit in the bags’ openings, each is about eight hooves tall and have a diameter of about a hoof and a half. Cure had made them small enough to fit in the spatial bags specifically to avoid transporting them out in the open in town.

The two mares share a wary look and slowly scoot back from the table as Cure speaks up. “These’ll need to be repotted, but I didn’t wanna walk through town with this thing just out. It looks too weird,” Cure explains. He slides the four plants together and, with a hoof on the two closest, activates his talent.

From Dr. Care and Gales’ point of view the two trees he’s touching reach out with tendrils, like vines, that grab the other two then all pull together in the middle of the four pots, merging to form a single plant split between them. Deed has his hoof on his son’s withers to provide extra magic just in case, but sat on the other side of the table, their line of sight is blocked.

From the side to the mares’ right a downward curved tendril emerges, looking similar to a spigot with an opening about three hooves from the table surface, then another appears on the opposite side as well. About halfway up the plant a single flat surface like a leaf extends out towards them. On the front left quarter of the plant a hoof-sized siphon-like opening extends out the front, also halfway up the plant.

Both mares’ eyebrows disappear into their manes when lettering and instructions begin to appear in white font on the plant and, after a moment, Cure declares it ready. “Alright. There ya have it. Your very own origin cell… ummm… extruder? I guess? I dunno, I kinda suck at naming things.”

“What in the stars is this, Cure?” Dr. Care asks, waving her hooves up and down at the thing. Deed moves around the table to take Hire’s vacated spot by Gale. Cure, once again, hops right up on the table and sits on his haunches beside the plant.

“This is a plant. I’m working on a couple trees that I stole ideas from to make this fella,” he explains, giving it a friendly pat. “Ironically, this one may have a bigger impact on medicine, maybe, than them and it only took like a week to put together. Mainly because it’s really only doing one thing that I already have an example of. Far simpler concept compared to the others. It started off as a downed maple tree in the woods by my house.”

“A week?” she mumbles, then shakes her head to refocus. “Uhh… okay. So, if I’m reading this right,” Dr. Care starts, ”the slot here is for sugar and water,” she says, pointing to the siphon slot, “and the two spouts are for… waste?”

“Yeah, you can feed it stuff like… I dunno, candy or whatever. I figured there’s a chance it may end up with stuff going into the input slot that it doesn’t need. It’ll store extra water and, if there’s waste buildup, rinse it outta there.”

“Ah. Okay. But the other spigot… it outputs… origin cells?”

“Yep! In a room-temperature stable suspension solution. I’m not exactly sure how you’ll go about using them. The solution is basically sugar water, mostly, and is completely safe to use internally. It should keep the cells viable for at least a day.

“I included that input spot up there so if you put a biopsy from something on it then give it a few seconds the cells should be prepped to, basically, clone whatever organ the biopsy is from, but I wasn’t sure if that was necessary. I think you can inject that solution straight into a damaged organ and it should, basically, regenerate it. Cycling the output on and off again will reset that.

“If you put a biopsy in there though, just put a container big enough for the organ here where the stuff comes out and after a few minutes it’ll start forming in there. After a few hours, bam! New organ. It’s nearly thirty percent concentration too, so you’ll only need about four times the mass of the damaged organ for a full replacement.”

“What?!”

“Or maybe if you have a way to keep the pony alive you can like… I dunno, take the damaged organ out, dunk it in there, and they should fix it up good as new. I’m still workin on the full-pony version, but hopefully I’ll have that ready sometime soon. Then you can just hit a pony with water breathing and dunk ‘em.”

Cure pauses and looks at Dr. Care, then asks, “Hey by the way do you have any medical spells that put a pony in stasis or something to reduce pain? I don’t need ‘em but I’m just curious. Maybe some that are useful in surgery, for example?”

“Stasis, no. That would be fantastic, but I’ve never heard of such a thing. There’s a spell to temporarily disable pain receptors in a limb called Numb. There’s also one that’ll Sanitize a surface. It’s a little more potent than Cleaning and works on most magic-resistant bacteria. We also have a Sharpening spell that, as you may have gathered, was originally developed for different purposes.”

“Neat! Are they restricted?”

“HA! No, of course not. I’m just not sure why you’d be interested in any of them. If you like I could have copies sent over next weekend.”

“Awesome! Thanks, doc!” He pauses, then scratches at his chin while looking at the plant. “Fudge… Where was I?”

Deed snorts a laugh, “I think ya were talking ‘bout the solution, son.”

“Oh! Right! I was gonna say that this stuff should be great for cuts too! Watch!”

Before anypony can react, Cure taps the plant on a panel labeled “ON” then retracts a patch of his coat on his leg so he’s showing bare skin, extends the claw out of his hoof again, swipes it across the bare patch, then, ignoring their shouts and startled jumps, holds it under the spigot. “Oh calm down, jeez. It’s just a little cut.”

“A little warnin, son. Most ponies don’t just slice themselves open, ya know?”

Scoffing, Cure shakes his head and mumbles, “buncha wusses.” More loudly he explains, “See? The stuff comes out, I just rub it in the wound a little, and…” pausing, he taps the plant again, this time on the “OFF” panel, and, ignoring the few drops on the table, holds the cut leg out, “after a few seconds, no more cut. Isn’t that freakin sweet?” he excitedly asks, smiling nearly from ear to ear.

Dr. Care, wide-eyed, presses a hoof against her chest. “Oh my sun and stars! Do you know what this means?!” she barely gets out between breaths.

“You bet!” he proudly declares. “Y’all are gonna save a fortune on bandages!” he says, beaming a huge smile. At her deadpan look he snickers and says, “Nah, I’m messin with ya. It’s pretty bonkers, huh? This little plant can make about a liter every few minutes if it’s getting enough food and water and could probably save a few dozen lives in an hour or so.

“They probably still need to set bones and stuff before using it, though. Like I said, y’all will hafta figure out how to best use it. I lack the experience and my talent makes it so I don’t really have to learn that stuff,” he finishes with a shrug.

“Cure… this is… this is a REVOLUTION in medicine!” Dr. Care shouts, waving both forehooves at the plant. “Do you have any idea how many ponies this will save?”

“No… I don’t have access to stats like that. Presumably thousands. I dunno,” he lamely finishes, looking at the unit in thought.

“Thousands. He says it’ll save thousands. Cure, babe, you beautiful colt, you, this will save thousands every year! Can… can it replicate blood too?”

“Umm… I dunno, probably. I guess if you put a drop of blood in there. I didn’t make the blood plant yet, I figured this was more important.” Defensively he insists, “My mom said not many ponies die ‘cause of lack of transfusions, so… do I need to get that done like ASAP?”

Barely restraining her hopeful smile, she suggests, “When you have time, maybe?”

“Sure. That’s fine. Maybe… actually, hold on.”

Everypony freezes as he closes his eyes and presses against the plant with a hoof. As he moves his hoof away a small, round piece of wood comes with it. “Here. Plant this in some soil, water it, sun it, maybe have some earth ponies do their thing, and in a few weeks you should have one of these,” he motions to the plant, “that just does blood, but it will output whatever blood type you put in. It should do any type.”

Frowning in thought for a moment he adds, “It should also do other creatures’ blood. I dunno, it’s just cloning whatever blood you put on the leaf after cleaning out any contaminants like viruses or whatever. Again, simple, single-purpose plants are pretty easy. That one’s just like this one, really, just more specialized.

“This needs to be tested first!” he emphasizes as he hoofs over the seed. Dr. Care takes it gently in her hooves like it’s a baby bird’s egg. “Yer not gonna break it, doc,” he chuckles with a bemused expression. “Maybe if my sire stomps on it really hard, but it’s tough.”

“Anyhow, let’s do a quick blood test here. Dad, you got some jars in there, right?”

Deed reaches in his pack, “Here ya go sport. I came prepared.”

Cure takes the offered preservative jar with a thanks and explains, “I didn’t know if you would want to get some samples to take with you or something, or for like… the flower plant or whatever.” He pokes his still bare leg with the claw, drawing a drop of blood. He quickly converts the mitochondria in the blood to normal unicorn cells, then places it on the input leaf, which absorbs the drop just a moment later.

“Oh… don’t touch that input leaf. It’ll basically break down anything organic on it in a few seconds. It’s not really a leaf, exactly. I better add a warning label,” he mumbles, putting a hoof against the tree and adding “WARNING - DO NOT TOUCH WITHOUT PROTECTION” in yellow above the leaf with an arrow pointing down.

With a snicker he adds an image of a hoof touching a similar leaf with a big red circle and a line crossing over it just to the side. “Ahh fudge, that label won’t be on the blood plant. Damnit!” With a scrunched snout he mutters, “I’ll hafta think about that.”

“We could just print signs,” Gale suggests.

“Oh. Yeah, I guess that works. Good call, Ms. Gale!”

“I told you, Cure, you can just call me Gale.”

“Son,” Dr. Care starts, “I don’t care what you call me if this all passes muster. Can you make more of those plants?”

“Yeah, they’ll produce a seed like that if you pour a few milliliters of vinegar in the input slot. Like I said, plant ‘em and have an earth pony mind them and they’ll be good to go in a month or so, maybe less.”

“Vinegar?”

Shrugging, he explains, “Had to use something. It’s just a trigger; it’ll come right back out with the rest of the waste next time it cycles.” With the now-full jar of solution he, once again, drips a little blood in, then gently swishes it around. The contents gradually darken until the entire jar is a deep red color. “There ya go, one jar full-o-blood. Nightmare Night will never be the same. Just think of how realistic we can make our decorations this year, pa!”

“Yer dam will be thrilled,” he deadpans.

“Well, that is ultimately the most important thing,” Cure agrees with a sage nod. “Anyhow, doc, I don’t see any reason why this couldn’t be used on patients all over the country to fix a buncha stuff. I only really have one request and, I promise, it’s not a demand or anything. I also have a… I dunno? Concern, maybe?”

“Concern?” Gale worriedly asks. “What’s wrong, Cure? Is it something we can help you with?”

“Let me ask, first, if you’re aware of the circumstances under which the workflow for the births was rearranged.”

“As I understand it,” Dr. Care begins, “the lead organizer for Golden Hills…” she pauses, turning to Gale, “What’s her name again?”

Gale answers almost immediately, “Winter Veil.”

“Right, right,” Dr. Care nods along, turning back to Cure. “Mrs. Veil received a suggestion that you could speed up the process dramatically so that ponies could be shifted to other areas.” Slowly she asks, “Why? Was there a problem with the way it was done?”

Deed and Cure exchange looks. Cure raises a questioning brow and his sire shrugs back saying, “She didn’t say anything about not tellin anypony, champ. I think it’s fine.”

“Yeah,” he agrees, turning to the two mares. “So that pony that suggested the rearranged workflow? That was the princess. She was in town, I’m pretty sure, because of me specifically.”

Gale’s brows disappear into her mane but Dr. Care takes a look at the plant, glances down at the seed in her hoof, then gives an understanding nod. “I’m not all that surprised, to be honest. You have a rare and valuable talent. To gain the princess’s attention… Well, that’s quite the honor. From your expression I’m assuming that isn’t what you’re concerned about, though.”

“Right,” he nods along, “my concern is that one,” he emphasizes, “of the reasons she came herself is that, as she put it,” he changes his voice to an approximation of the princess’s, “First, to assuage the concerns of several of my advisors, especially from certain members of the Archmage’s Assembly,” which gets a raised brow from Dr. Care and an impressed “Goodness!” from Gale.

In his normal voice, he continues, “Worth noting, that was the first reason she brought up. That tells me that, in all likelihood, is slightly more than a passing concern of hers. Know what I mean?”

“Absolutely,” Dr. Care nods. “I, myself, along with a large number of unicorn doctors in the country and every one on the board have memberships to the Assembly. It’s as much a professional association as it is a branch of the government. I haven’t been to Canterlot since the last medical seminar that was hosted there last August.”

Sheepishly, she admits, “I really only went for the CEU’s, to be honest. It’s hard as Tartarus to find local classes that count, and they were offering them for free. Err, are you familiar with the term, Cure?”

“Yeah, continuing education units, right?” At her nod he continues, “Huh… I guess I should have looked more into exactly what the Assembly is. I was kinda worried somepony may get it in their head that, despite the princess tellin ‘em I’m not some kinda nutjob,” Cure glances at his sire when he snorts, then tries to cover it up with an exaggerated smile, “... not the dangerous kinda nutjob, that somepony may come looking for me themselves anyhow.”

Dr. Care gives a half-hearted nod, then tilts her head side to side in thought. “I mean… maybe to hire you or seek help with something? I can’t imagine Her Highness saying ‘I talked to the colt. He’s perfectly fine, leave him alone’ then willfully ignoring that, though.

“You certainly haven’t done anything that I’m aware of that would cause anypony to have an equinal grudge against you, have you? I can’t imagine that at your age, but…” she trails off when Cure shakes his head no.

“I mean, this,” he waves at the plant, “may cause some ripples in the pharmaceutical industry, I guess, but no. I work here, I do my thing at my cosmetic business, I work with the guard, and I go to school and hang out with my friends. Oh, and apparently the guard raided my garden without asking. I had improved my dam’s crops and they wanted samples.”

“Ah. I imagine over concerns they could spread unchecked?”

“Supposedly,” he shrugs, “I still don’t get why they didn’t ask. They were melons, spinach, and stuff like that.”

“They don’t need to ask at all, Cure. That you were informed was probably merely done as a courtesy. And so you weren’t caught unawares should those crops appear elsewhere.”

“I guess. I would have been pretty angry if I found out later. Anyhow, my whole big concern is that this fella,” he says, waving at the plant, “is going to be like a big ‘ol flare in the sky saying ‘The biomanipulator you’re looking for is over here!’ and if some loon is convinced I’m a threat they may come lookin for me.”

Gale speaks up asking for clarification. “So you’re concerned that somepony will ignore the princess and come hunt you down?” He shrugs so she continues, “Despite the fact that everything you’re doing is good and, as far as you know, you haven’t somehow made an enemy out there?” she waves to the door ambiguously.

Cure answers with a slow nod. “There is no way that would happen, Cure. That… that’s treason!” she finishes shouting.

“What?”

“If the princess already told them you are not a threat and they ignore her and try to come after you they are not only committing whatever crime an attack would be, but they’re also defying a declaration from the princess herself. They would potentially face banishment! Especially after this!” she yells, waving at the plant. She looks around and quietly hisses, “They may even be executed!”

Dr. Care nods along, “She’s right. I don’t think you have anything to worry about, Cure. If they commit a crime against a foal that elevates the punishment significantly. That you’re, in all likelihood, considered a national asset just makes it that much worse.”

“National asset?”

Dr. Care looks meaningfully at the tree, then waves the seed in her hoof. “This, your work with the guard, the births, your volunteering here. I assume you do heal some of your cosmetic customers if you find a problem, right?”

“I do a lot of dental, vision, and arthritis stuff, yeah.”

“I figured you would, Cure. You’re a good colt. If anypony tries to threaten or, stars forbid, harm you I can guarantee the full weight of the Baltimare Regional Health Authority will be calling for the harshest punishment possible. The very notion that somepony would react negatively to your efforts is, frankly, ludicrous. Gale said you contacted her via a Sending crystal?”

“Yes, I got them for my parents and friends.”

Dr. Care nods impressed, “That must have cost a fortune. I’m sure the board would be thrilled to meet the enchanter you hired. Those transmutation spells are no joke. Regardless, If anypony approaches you feel free to send me a message right away. I’ll reach out to Captain Stance directly if the situation calls for it.”

“Is that the captain over Baltimare? I’ve not met her. Or him.”

“Her. Captain Forward Stance. The BRHA partners with the BRG to provide medical services to Guard members and develop emergency response plans for any manner of emergency you can imagine. I’m sure you noticed the guard presence at the births, for example. Stars, more than half of our security is former guards.”

“Huh. I hadn’t thought about that. Staff Sergeant Bulwark was front and center both days. So were the other guard commanders in Parkdale and Ferndale.”

Gale nods along, “Of course they were. Guard units all over the country provide security for public events like that. If you had ended up coming here you would have met her lieutenant.”

“Oh. Well,” he pauses, looking at his sire. “I dunno about you, pa, but I feel a little better.”

“Glad ta hear it sport. Can’t rightly say I expected ta her my son called a national asset either.”

“That doesn’t really surprise you does it?” Dr. Care asks. “I mean… this alone will save thousands. And he’s so young!” she exclaims.

“I reckon not,” Deed agrees. “Not many ponies can do somethin like that in a week’s time.”

“I still can’t get over that,” Dr. Care sighs out. “I hope that alleviates your concern about some kind of rogue archmage, though. There’s researchers, politicians, scholars, and advisors that work there. Some are former military, but it’s not some… I don’t know, top secret group of battle mages or something.”

“That’s a huge relief. I mean, I’ll still probably keep an eye out, but I kinda always do anyhow. Oh, and my fillyfriend can make the Sending crystals, by the way. She’s the one that made several for the Guard here.”

“Little Dawn Glow can do that?” Gale asks. When Cure nods her wings give a little flap, “Oh how amazing! We’ll certainly be in touch if she’s okay with it!”

“Lemme ask,” he says, digging into his bag.

<< Hey Dawn, the Regional Health Authority may wanna buy Sending crystals. Are you okay making them for them? >>

<< Sure! We just need the crystals. Any idea how much they’ll pay? >>

“She says she’d be happy to help, but she’s wondering how much you pay.”

“Sending is a nightmare, so we would pay a premium. Do you mind if I have a look?” Dr. Care asks, motioning to the crystal.

“Nah, be my guest.”

Cure hoofs the mid crystal to Dr. Care looks it over. Presumably she’s checking the quality of the enchantment, which is provided by the container spell when the enchantment is added.

“Huh… flawlessly cast. Beautiful! Does she have a cutie mark related to spellcasting or transmutation magic?”

Gale answers first. “No. She doesn’t have her mark yet. At least, last time I saw her?” she half-asks Cure who shakes his head no.

“I bet that’s what her talent will be,” Dr. Care suggests. “She’s your age?”

“A half year older, so nine now.”

“For a foal to get that one right is seriously impressive. I hope she plans on going to a university. I’m sure we could help her get a hoof in the door here when she’s older. Regardless, a flawless Sending should double the price for a crystal. If she’s nine she probably can’t charge a full mid, but we can take care of that part. That’s really amazing, though.”

Cure reaches in his bag and pulls out a mid-low Sending and hoofs it over. “Here, you can just have that one. I’ll let her know to expect to hear from you. I’m sure she’ll be thrilled, though we may need to order some crystals from Canterlot. I basically bought everything Early had in stock last week for the Guard.”

“Sounds great, Cure. We’ll be in touch,” she says, taking the mid-low and passing back the mid.

<< Gale or Dr. Care will be in touch. Sending doubles crystal sale price, so fourteen hundred per mid, three per mid-low. Gave them a mid-low for free to contact you. >>

<< Oh my stars! Awesome! Thanks Cure! >>

Gale sees Cure’s happy smile and, with a hoof by her mouth, stage whispers to Deed, “Looks like Dawn’s excited!”

Dr. Care chuckles, “She’s excited? I can’t believe all this!” she shouts, waving at the crystal, the seed, and the plant. “I usually dread meetings, but feel free to Send something anytime you have something like this, Cure. We’ll, uhh, make sure there’s not a repeat of that unpleasantness.”

“Sounds good, doc. There is one last order of business, though,” he starts.

“Right, you said you had a request?” Dr. Care asks. At his nod she insists, “Name it. We’ll do everything we can, I assure you.”

“Great! When I did my taxes the mare, Even Audit, said that if I’m ‘renting’ a device of some kind to a public institution, like a hospital, but I’m not charging at all, then the value that would normally be assigned to that rental agreement may partially be used to offset my taxes.”

“Damnit, Cure…” Deed sighs, rubbing his temples.

“I think we can work something out. You mean you don’t actually want anything for these, though?” she asks, holding up the seed and waving to the plant. “You just want a valuation for tax purposes?”

He answers with a firm nod. “Exactly. Just maybe see if somepony can come up with an estimate of their value and work with me on that.” Cure holds up his hooves in the “surrender” position and, very insistently explains, “It’s not a demand! Just a request. Please.”

“That’s not a problem at all, Cure,” she says with a light chuckle. She looks to his sire and adds, “It’s a very reasonable request, Mr. Deed. He should be appropriately compensated for his time and effort, after all.”

The dark stallion nods in acceptance. “Yer right, doc. I don’t disagree, it’s just the colt’s obsessed with tha whole tax thing. Ain’t never seen nothin like it.”

“My tax bill this quarter looks like it’s going to be over forty grand!” he shouts. “If those are worth a few bits a day and I can get a couple dozen places usin ‘em maybe I won’t take it across the chin as bad this time.”

Dr. Care’s face goes through a few different emotions before she hesitantly says, “I… think they may be worth more than that.”

“Cool! Alright… I gotta go start my shift. Err, wait, am I still employed here?” he asks the two.

Both nod emphatically, Gale saying, “Of course, Cure. If you’re still willing to work here, that is.”

“Oh. Yeah, sure. Hey maybe for next Saturday do you think you can find a bunch of ponies in Baltimare with neurological conditions? I want to start developing targeted cure options like this tree. Maybe like a dozen or so? If y’all feed me on the way back my cosmetic folks don’t show up ‘till one, so I bet I can do twelve in three hours.”

Dr. Care absently nods, “Umm. Yeah, I bet we can work with that. We’ll talk to the directors on Monday and send a messenger to let you know.”

“Awesome! Alright, I think that’s all I had for ya today.” Clapping his hooves together he shouts, “Good meeting, everypony, mostly. I’ll see y’all later!” then hops off the table, making his way out the door.

“Then he just… goes,” Gale comments, watching as the door swings shut.

“Yeah,” Deed slowly agrees. “The colt’s a little odd sometimes, but he means well.” Deed glances towards the doctor, finding her staring at the plant in a daze. “Ya alright, doc? Need a hoof with that?” he asks, waving at the unit.

“Huh? Oh, no, thank you. Gale?”

“Hmm?”

“I don’t want to touch this. I don’t want anypony touching this at all until we can ensure it won’t be harmed in transit. Do you know who’s in Facilities today?”

“I… don’t,” she answers with a frown.

“The plant ain’t gonna break, doc,” Deed calmly explains. “The colt said it’s tougher’n any tree yer ever gonna see. If it does he can make another, he just needs four logs ‘n about ten minutes. Probably less since he already did it once.”

“I can fly back and have a carriage come!”

“Okay. Okay… alright, that’ll work,” Dr. Care nods. “Thanks, Mr. Deed. Sorry, it’s just kind of a big deal.”

“Yup. Alright, ladies. Always a pleasure, take care,” he calls, seeing himself out.

Author's Note

So despite IRL stuff keeping me busy - which will continue all this week, sadly, I managed to finish 55's first draft and got about a fifth into 56. Until I can resume writing as normal I am going to stick to the once per week bit, which sucks because, as I've said a few times, writing this story is my entertainment.

As far as the treason bit, this is actually true. It was added as an afterthought, mainly because my American brain didn't even consider that the act of disobeying a monarch could be considered such until my 2nd or so pass through the chapter.

The American definition of treason is very limited mainly because the folks that wrote those laws were, technically, traitors to the crown. They had also seen how an accusation of treason could be abused and wanted to make it more difficult to levy that charge. Even if not directly "treason" the crime of Lèse-majesté (insulting the crown) would still not be laughed off, especially in a society that sees their princess as their god-queen.

Finally, I'm not 100% certain you can strangle a horse or, presumably, a pony in a way that would make hanging a viable execution method. Sure you can just wave it away as "they're not ponies like on earth" but still, why bother when magic certainly provides a cleaner method? I didn't want to do a lot of research on that because just typing in the search made me feel dirty. I did find out that, unlike a human, a horse can still breath even with an obstruction in their esophagus, though, so Cure warning Heavy to slow down on that cookie months prior was unnecessary.

*shrug* the things you don't know you don't know.

Chapter 53: Trojan Horse Mk II

Monday, February 16th, 909 AB (9 days later)
Evening

Climbing out of the pile, Title extends her horn and casts Cleaning a few times before looking over her mates. It won’t be long until her wife will be too far along to join in these sessions. Thankfully Lemon and Amethyst are always happy to contribute to the cause. Since Cure’s ‘upgrade’ to his sire it’s become a whole lot more necessary to call in help.

Even with the musculature upgrades the growing stallion can easily outlast both she and Vines when he has a mind to. That’s perfectly fine in her book. The trips to the gym and the cheating muscle enhancements have turned Deed from a pretty good lay into something straight out of one of her novels. Just like the other fantastic changes that have come about over the last five months, she’s very grateful to her son.

She can’t help but chuckle at the fact that it’s thanks to their son that her husband can absolutely fuck her brains out. The really funny part is that Cure would probably happily say “you’re welcome” and mean it if she actually thanked him for it. The whole memory thing was scary at first, but the fact is that the family’s closeness has increased dramatically since the event, which is a miracle on top of a miracle as best she can figure.

She’ll never stop thanking the stars that whatever happened didn’t outright kill him, leave him permanently disabled or, instead of giving him the memories it did, turn him into some kind of sadistic nut job that just wants to hurt ponies. Whether Cure really is Edward reborn or he just inherited his memories, she still appreciates the fact that Ed was a good man, and definitely didn’t deserve the rough times he had to endure for the last decade of his life.

The knowledge he passed on to Cure not only, likely, saved him from making a fatal mistake early on, but has contributed immensely to the family’s overall happiness, not to mention financial success. It would also be nice to think that there’s more than just ‘the end’ when the inevitable finally does come.

As she hops off the bed she casts Cleaning one more time on herself, then looks in the crib at her perfect daughter. Bringing a new life into the world is always a little scary, but she is having the easiest time adapting to being a new dam that she’s ever heard of. Her parents were green with envy when she showed off the crystals Cure had enchanted and what a difference they made for child rearing.

They didn’t have any reason to complain, though, when he knocked about twenty years off of each one while they were in town. Unlike his normal customers she supplied enough magic that Cure’s pretty sure they legitimately are in their late twenties. He explained that her moms don’t have any viable eggs left, though, so if they want to have foals again an additional procedure would be needed. The three, unsurprisingly, politely declined.

It probably won’t be long before one of her sisters sends her a letter asking what the hay happened to their parents. She’ll have to talk to Cure about putting together some kind of package with a variety of onesie sizes and a dozen or so Cleaning, Warming, and Prestidigitation crystals included, that way she can at least share something with them.

Her mates’ families can almost all get and stay lost as far as she’s concerned. Vines’ whole family ostracized her for the grave sin of falling in love with a good stallion and having a colt with him, something that any family with half a brain would be thanking Celestia’s sun for.

Deed’s dam and sire are barely better. He doesn’t talk talk about them, but from what she understands the pair are barely more than conponies. Word of the family’s change in circumstances must not have reached them yet or they would be at the door, hooves out, insisting they’ve finally come up with a good way to get rich and just need some startup capital to get it off the ground.

Ridiculous. Want to get rich? Let the colt do his thing for another year and provide all the support and love you should have given to your son when he needed you most. Cure’s only directly collecting money for half, or less, of what he’s doing and he makes over ten times what the entire family used to make just last year.

Her wonderful, beautiful Savvy is laying on her right side, snoozing away, oblivious to the world. It’ll be about another hour before it’s time to feed her, and it’s definitely too early for the sweet thing to be sleeping, so Title reaches in, scooping her up in her forelegs and kisses all over the girl until she finally stirs.

“How’s my precious Savvy, hmm? You smell okay now, but I bet you’re working on a little surprise for your dam, aren’t you? Yes, I bet you are! C’mon Savvy baby, it’s too early for bed,” she coos, setting the girl on her withers. Her daughter lets out a big, squeaky yawn before sitting down and looking around the room in a daze.

With the filly situated, Title makes her way out the door, gently pulling it shut behind her, then freezes at an unfamiliar sound coming from downstairs. “What the hay?” she quietly asks, aiming her ears and turning her hearing up to maximum.

*CRUNCH* *crunch* *crunch* *crunch*

Cautiously, she approaches Cure’s door and peeks inside. The colt’s young, granted, but if there’s something nasty down there she knows he’ll make it regret its life choices. Sadly, he’s not in the room, which means one of three things.

Possibility number one is that he’s not in the house, which is unlikely given it’s probably coming up on seven o’clock and is pitch black outside. Two is just, if not more unlikely; something made it in the house and managed to subdue the colt somehow. She can’t rightly fathom how that would even happen at this point. That really only leaves number three, which is that Cure’s downstairs making that horrible crunching noise.

Figuring that’s the most likely case by a wide margin, Title slowly approaches the stairs.

*CRUNCH* *crunch* *crunch* *crunch*

“Cure?” she softly calls down.

*CRUNCH* *crunch* “Howd own mwa, wone secwond” *crunch* *crunch* “Sorry, momma, did I wake ya up?”

Sighing in relief, Title comes down the stairs to find the brown pseudo-alicorn-hippogriff thing sitting on something that looks like a cushion, but isn’t, while holding a half meter long quarter-split tree trunk in his talons. Not hooves, hands, claws, or feet. Talons, and wicked looking ones at that.

A large pile of wood is cut into split logs and neatly stacked by the fireplace, which would be normal if the family hadn’t been using Warming crystals to heat the house all winter long.

“Huh. That’s a new look. What the hay are you doing?”

“Eating,” he unhelpfully answers, then takes a bite out of the log. *CRUNCH* *crunch* *crunch* *crunch*

Title can’t help but note that, as best she can tell, his jaw unhinged and he just bit a half-hoof length clean off the end of a two-hoof diameter, quartered log like she would bite off a piece of a carrot. Even split like it is his mouth had to open more than a hoof for it to fit, let alone have leverage to bite down. Standing above him it was hard to see exactly what happened, and given the noise she’s not completely sure she wants to.

She stands there bewildered and watches as he takes bite after bite, cramming the remainder of the log into his maw in under a minute before floating another into his waiting talons.

“Cure… what the fuck are you doing?”

“I told ya, I’m eating,” he insists, taking another crunchy bite. “I need the mass.”

Rubbing her forehead, she can already feel the headache building. “Okay, I have like… I don’t even know. So many questions,” the exasperated mare sighs out. She glances over at her mat, levitates it closer to the horned, winged, taloned termite, then sets Savvy down before laying around her. “So first up, why the hay are you eating a tree?”

Shrugging, he explains, “I figure it’s a lot cheaper than eating all our food. Taste doesn’t really matter for what I’m doing, so instead of wasting the good stuff,” he motions to the kitchen, “I can just chow down on a tree that fell over. Free mass, ya know?”

“I guess,” she agrees noncommittally. “What the heck are you sitting on?” she asks. Leaning down, the… thing… is about a hoof and a half tall and just barely longer and wider than she herself is. It’s covered in dark brown fur and, unless her sense of smell is off, has the same scent as her son. There are some very odd noises coming from it too.

“Eh, just think of it as a cushion,” he deflects, taking another bite.

Title watches with furrowed brows as the colt, very quickly, chews the huge chunk of wood, then swallows. After a few more bites she warily asks, “Is your ‘cushion’ getting bigger?”

Cure exaggeratedly rolls his eyes and lets out a long sigh. “Fine, jeez, yes. It’s extra biomass, mom. I’m building something.”

“What the fuck, Cure?!” she hisses. She scowls and points a scolding hoof at the annoying colt and demands, “You’re going to tell me exactly what you’re doing right now, you got it mister?!” Title feels a little bad about busting out the mom card on him. It’s a relief it works at all, honestly, and even though she doesn’t like to, sometimes it’s the fastest way to pry answers out of him. Odd, given he’s usually very forthcoming with explanations to anything she’s curious about.

With pinned ears and a ducked head he quietly explains, “It’s a disguise.” At her continued stare he continues, “You know that my talent lets me change myself for, basically, free, right?”

“Yeah.”

“Well, it occurred to me that I never actually defined exactly when something becomes ‘me’ instead of being not me, ya know?”

“Oh… so you’re… what, eating the tree so you can use your magic on it easier?”

With an eager nod he confirms, “Exactly!”

“Why didn’t you just say so?”

With a weak shrug he mumbles, “I dunno. Figured you would freak out.”

“You do look pretty weird. I mean, your dam would probably freak out a bit. I don’t think your sire would, though… and you should know by now I wouldn’t be upset.”

“Awesome!” he yells, bouncing in place, “This is going to be so freaking cool when I’m done!”

“Yeah, I’d still like to hear what you’re working on, though. Also, is that a whole freakin tree?” she asks, looking over the logs. She’s exaggerating slightly. It’s a fair amount of wood, granted, but given the diameter of the split logs there had to be a lot more than just what’s there.

“Nah, that’s probably only about a quarter of it. I didn’t think I would need the whole thing, but I’m not sure if that’s enough either. Stupid thing took me three trips to bring in here.”

“I’m surprised none of the patrolling bats spotted you.”

“I’m nearly invisible with the camouflage and can jump-glide absurdly far, so I don’t even have to flap to cover a kilometer. The only reason it took more than one trip is because of the volume. I shoulda brought the whole thing and cut it up here, but I was able to wrap up enough in tentacles to get a third each time. If I do this again I’ll borrow one of yer bags instead.”

“Tentacles?”

“Eh, same thing I did with the tongue and… other things you very recently enjoyed. Loudly, I might add. Did the freaking Sound Bubble crystal run out?”

Title can’t help but blush at the accusation. “Maybe. I was distracted after your dam fell asleep,” she admits.

“I could tell,” he flatly responds, causing her blush to deepen. “Anyhow, they weren’t huge or anything. I sprouted a few to wrap around logs enough that I could cover them with the aura. They might as well have been luggage straps, just made of muscle.

“With the whole 90% effective mass reduction aura they didn’t need to be particularly strong. I mean, hell, I was moving over a hundred kilograms at once and it might as well have been ten or so. Earth pony strength combined with a pegasus aura is complete bullshit. I could probably pull eight thousand kilograms if I can hit it with the aura.”

“That’s… a lot of weight. What percentage am I up to now?”

“Just shy of thirty. You wouldn’t be able to cover the volume in your aura, but I bet I could sit on something that weighs twenty, maybe thirty thousand kilograms, cover it in my aura, and you could pull it. If we could get the house on some rollers the three of you could pull it easily. I bet that would burn a lot of calories though, lightening that much mass.”

“Huh. That’s nuts,” she agrees. Focusing back on his “cushion” she asks, “So tell me exactly what you’re workin on here.”

“Alright, so like I was saying, I never sat down to figure out when, metaphysically, something becomes part of me for the purposes of my magic, right?”

“Okay. So, judging by the setup here I’m guessing that happens when you eat it?”

“Not exactly,” he explains, tilting his head back and forth. “I’m not able to cheaply modify the wood until it hits my stomach and is digested. Really, stomach is inaccurate as all get out. It basically has to go through the whole process. If my GI tract weren’t so heavily modified my guess is I wouldn't be able to start freely messin with biomatter until it’s in the hindgut and the cecum and large intestine have had a go at it, so I’m kinda cheatin,” he explains with a firm nod.

He gives a thoughtful frown and clarifies, “Well, there’s no ‘kinda’ about it. I’m cheatin pretty hard, to be honest. I kinda figured y’all would be busy long enough I would be done,” he sheepishly adds.

“Well blame your sister,” Title says, nudging the foal. She floats over a plushie toy and, using her levitation, entertains her. “It’s too early for her to sleep, she needs to eat in a little bit, and when I left our room I heard somepony crunching away,” she finishes, giving him an accusatory glare.

“Damnit… I shoulda cast Sound Bubble myself. I didn’t think about that once y’all finished. Oh well, I guess I wouldn’t be able to hide this one too long anyhow. I really just wanted to have it ready before dam found out. You know how she is with changes and stuff.”

Title glances down at the lump he’s sitting on, assuming “sitting on” is even accurate, and nods in agreement. “Yeah, I can see her freaking out a bit here. So… is that thing basically a big stomach?”

“Pretty much, yeah. Sort of. I mean, like I said, stomach isn’t right. It’s an entire secondary GI tract. Just a lot more violent.”

“Violent?”

“Yeah, I made it so it digests food a lot quicker, so more potent acid, more aggressive breakdown, teeth… you know, the usual.”

“Honey I’m not a dentist, but I don’t think our guts have teeth.”

“I think that would fall under a gastroenterologist’s purview. And you’re right, yours don’t,” he agrees with a smirk. “I’m joking, mine doesn’t usually either. I don’t really even need it, to be honest,” he points out as he goes to take another bite.

“Earth pony muscles mince food pretty well without ‘em. I’m maximizing digestion speed, though, so by the time it gets past the hellscape that my esophagus is right now it’s basically shredded pulp. Once again I’m thankful for earth pony muscles pushing all that down.”

Title really regrets the enhanced eyesight for a moment there. The inside of Cure’s mouth right now looks unlike anything she has ever seen. Rows of small, jagged teeth, all the way from just behind his front teeth all the way back, each spinning and moving in different ways to completely annihilate anything that enters. And that was just from a quick glance while he took a bite.

“How are you biting through a huge chunk of wood like that anyhow? I mean, I know you’re strong but…”

“Griffons,” he mumbles, still chewing. Once he swallows he clarifies, “The griffon aura ability. It sharpens claws, right?”

“Yeah.”

“And talons, right?”

“I assume.”

“Why not teeth?”

“Griffons don’t… wait. Do griffons have teeth?”

“Not exactly but they do have hard tooth-like cartilage structures lining their beak and on their tongue. Have you ever looked in a goose’s mouth? Err, beak?”

“I’ve fed geese, yeah. They’re weird. Nowhere near as weird as you right now, though.”

“Oh yeah,” he agrees, motioning to his face, “I’m very much aware this is some horror show shit right here. That’s why I was trying to get this all done before I went to bed. I try not to traumatize y’all too much, especially since that one time. Buncha wusses,” he finishes, mumbling more quietly, then smirking when his mom glares at him.

“So, you told me the griffon aura sharpens claws and talons, but I don’t think you ever actually explained it.”

“I didn’t have enough mass with the Hybrid Mark Two cells in them to really max out what it does before now. The more I eat,” he says, patting his second stomach, “the sharper it gets. There’s definitely some diminishing returns, but I’ve noticed an uptick in all my aura effects just over the last hour and a half since I got started. It probably caps out at about half of an average male griffon’s weight, so I’m basically there now with this thing. Or getting close, at least. This isn’t all solid, after all.

“The griffon aura effect seems like a specialized version of our telekinetic field with shorter range. It’s really freaking weird, though, because I can’t just form a sharp edge anywhere with it. I’ve noticed the resolution on my field has improved over the last four weeks and, especially, today, but in order to form a blade I have to have an actual claw or hard, sharp surface of some kind.

“My newest theory is that all of our aura abilities are somehow relying on keratin as an antennae, more or less. The griffon aura doesn’t want to form a sharp edge if I use bone instead.

“Hooves don’t work quite right either; when I project a field with rounded hooves, the edge,” he brings a back hoof forward to demonstrate, pointing to the outer wall, “will project a field, but it’s not very sharp. I guess it may help to like… dig into a tree or into the ground, maybe? Unless I make the edge finer, though, the field doesn’t seem to want to cut.”

“Huh, that’s weird,” she agrees. “But you can still project it out?”

“Yep. We would have to ask an actual griffon if they can do that, but I kinda suspect it may be some additive combination of our projected grabbing field somehow altering the behavior of the cutting field. Honestly I don’t want to ask a griffon because if that’s something they can do and haven’t ever tried then we’ll be giving them a potent weapon, potentially. The cutting field definitely seems to react to keratin specifically; both kinds too, alpha and beta.

“That’s fine for my purposes, though,” he adds with a shrug. “I can cheat and make fake teeth out of keratin a lot easier than I can other stuff, especially enamel.”

“I know the term but I don’t actually know what enamel actually is made of. Or the difference between keratin either.”

“Beta keratin is what birds and lizards have. That’s what’s in griffon talons, too. Mammals have alpha, which is softer and in horns, antlers, hooves and, strangely, griffon hind claws. Skin has some and fur is made of it too, which is why I’m thinking that the aura effects may all actually be running off of the protein somehow. I mean, that’s what horns are mostly made of too, after all.

“Ya know what’s really bizarre, and I know it sounds specist as hell, but I swear a lion musta knocked up an eagle or something at some point. Half their shit is one and half’s the other. They really are like a bird and a cat sewn together in a lot of ways.”

“Yeah, I don’t think they would be happy with you suggesting that, babe.”

“Right, no callin ‘em birdcats,” he easily agrees. “As for enamel, it’s the hard, see-through stuff on our teeth. It’s mostly made of minerals. It’s is a pain in the rear for me to work with without relying on my talent because it’s inorganic; I can force the body to make it, but I can’t directly fudge with it, just like when I eat rocks. That kinda sucks because it’s really tough stuff. Not a big deal for me with the enhanced bones, but for other ponies it’s inconvenient.”

“You’ve been doing dental crap forever, though… if you can’t make enamel how the hay have you been fixing ponies’ teeth?”

“By forcing the body to make it where it needs to be made. It is made by our body. I dunno what they’re called, but there’s cells inside a tooth that produce it. My talent moves them where they need to be, or makes them on the spot, and shapes it with protein structures. We’re talking microscopic stuff here, ma, so it’s not like you can tell. Besides, I can largely tell my power what I’m doing and let it go on cruise control at this point. At least with ponies, I can.”

“Cruise control?”

“Autopilot. You ever leave the house and get to work and think, ‘How the hay did I even get here?’ You weren’t paying attention and still went where you meant to, right?”

Thinking for a moment, the pink mare nods. “Yeah.”

“That’s what I mean. I don’t have to plan out every single tiny cell’s placement. It may be more magic-efficient if I could, but brains don’t have the necessary processing power, so I visualize the end goal and feed magic in to get there. Like I said, relying on my talent. It does the heavy lifting, basically.”

“Ah. Gotchya.” Title stops to look down at Savvy, who is now finished playing and is content to lay half-on her dam’s side, booty still on the cushion. “Guess she went back to sleep.”

“Yep, but I think you’re gonna need to hit her with a Cleaning here in a couple minutes, ma. I’m going to give her the ‘I need to potty’ signal. Let’s see if our training is working.”

As Cure munches down the rest of the log, Title idly watches the show. It’s amazing and, at the same time, kind of scary to see how quickly he can chew up kilogram after kilogram of wood.

“So, I’m guessing the griffon aura helps maintain the cutting edge? And you’re using earth pony strength to power your jaws? I don’t see gigantic muscles on your face like I would expect you’d need to do that to a log.”

“Yep. My front teeth are way, way sharper than any normal creature would have. I would probably bite my own tongue clean off if I wasn’t paying attention. Griffon tooth-like structures are made of cartilage instead of keratin or they would probably do exactly that.”

“Neat. So -” she pauses as Savvy stirs and starts letting out little whines. “What’s wrong baby?” she asks the little filly. Savvy looks up at her dam and chirps out a few more warnings. “Wow, it seems to be working already. Is the platform in the bathroom?”

“Yep, I put one in each bathroom, ma. It’s under the sink. Better hurry, you only have a minute or two, tops. I’m cheating, helping her hold it in. Go on,” he says, waving to the bathroom. As the pair reach the edge of his range he pulls off his hind hoof walls, adding them to his horn so he can extend the aura and keep her in range without getting up.

Cure keeps eating, munching away at log after log as Title takes Savvy to the potty. She’s able to get her out of the onesie and positioned on the platform, though Savvy clearly isn’t happy about it. Cure uses his magic to help her go potty, gross as it may be. Sadly, no parent, or older brother in this case, gets through raising a child without having to do some pretty gross stuff, though helping anal and bladder muscles contract is a new one.

He pauses, mid bite, looks down at the log he’s chewing, scrunches his snout, then after a shrug, goes back to eating. “My life is fucking weird,” he admits between bites.

Title finishes cleaning and redressing Savvy, then praises the girl and brings her back to the cushion, cooing and kissing all over her the whole way. Cure creates a second pouch on the right side of his neck for the extra keratin to be stored, figuring it may be useful at point to have everything needed for a second horn or just a double-sized one.

“It’s a work in progress,” Title admits, “but at least she didn’t scream and cry when I put her over the toilet this time. I’m amazed, honestly… if she can learn how to use the potty in six months I’ll be freaking thrilled.”

“Meh, who knows? Human babies take anywhere from a year and a half to three before they’ve got it down. Then again, the freaking squirrels here are smarter than human babies, so maybe she’ll figure it out by month six. She’s doing great just realizing that the feeling means anything at all at this point. Hell, she’s only four weeks old.”

“Yep, now go to sleep, Savvy baby,” she whispers, laying her daughter back on her side. “She’s so wonderful,” she coos, nosing at the girl’s side and grooming her ears. It’s only a moment later that she’s laid back down against her dam’s tummy snoozing away again.

“So,” she says, “you’re eating all this so you can make a disguise? How’s that going to work? Won’t it stop being ‘you’ after it’s not connected to ya?”

“I’m not exactly sure how that part works, but so far, no. It seems like metaphysically, at least for a little while even when not attached, something remains ‘me’ for the purposes of my magic. My horn,” he motions to his head, “is the perfect example. It was part of me even when it was detached. When I put it back on it was still me.”

“I guess that makes sense,” Title slowly agrees. “I mean, somepony’s ear or wing or whatever were cut off you would still consider it a part of them. Of course that means if you are separated from this for too long you’d have to start over.”

“Eh, so what? It’s only taking me an evening, and as long as I ‘attach’ to it I bet that resets the counter. It always did with my horn, even when we left it here for a few days when we went to Canterlot. It takes more energy to resize a onesie,” he motions to Savvy, “than it does my whole leg because that hasn’t been ‘attached’ to me for a few weeks.”

“Interesting. So what’s this gonna look like when you’re done?”

“Eventually an alicorn. A big one, like the boss lady. Or maybe a sphynx like I suggested to the girls. I would prefer to keep it ‘pony’ though. It has to be big enough that I can fit in the abdomen.”

“I… wait… is that legal? Can you pretend to be an alicorn?”

“I don’t see why not. Maybe if I was trying to pretend to be some kind of royalty, but just being an alicorn? There shouldn’t be a law against that. Besides, I won’t actually claim to be one, I’ll just look like one, but with a normal mane. In fact, I’ll insist I’m just a regular pony, loudly and repeatedly.”

Incredulously, she asks, “A regular pony? That’s eighteen hooves tall, winged, with a horn?”

“Yep, just like everypony else.”

She shakes her head with a scoff. “That’s dumb. Everypony will lose their mind.”

“Why?”

“Because they’ll think there’s another fucking alicorn, moron!” she hisses, throwing her hooves up in exasperation, careful not to be too loud to upset her daughter.

“And again, I’ll just politely inform them they’re mistaken.” With a dumb, confused look he says, “Alley Corn? Never heard of her! Sounds like a weird urban farmer to me! I’m just a tall, swole pegacorn, really. I ate all my veggies when I was growing up!”

Title gives him a deadpan stare for a moment, takes a calming breath, then asks, “What are you going to do if… when the Guard shows up?”

“Leave?” he answers, as if it’s the most obvious thing in the world.

“Just leave?”

“Or ignore them. I mean… what are they going to do, arrest me for having wings and a horn?”

Nodding, she says, “They may try.”

“Well then I’ll definitely leave,” he smugly answers.

“What if you can’t?”

“Why couldn’t I?”

“They’ll stop you!” she shouts.

Rolling his eyes he asks, “How would they stop me?”

“With force, duh?”

Cure scoffs at the notion. “Then I wish them luck. Who the fuck would be dumb enough to start a fight with a huge-ass alicorn like that?”

“I… yeah, true. What if they order you to go with them?”

“I’ll say no thanks. Insistently if necessary.”

“Even if being an alicorn isn’t illegal, ignoring a guard’s commands is.”

“While ignoring lawful commands may be illegal, ignoring unlawful ones shouldn’t be. I mean, if a guard walks up to you, hoofs you a spear, and says, ‘Stab that pony’ are you gonna?”

“No, that’s dumb.”

“It is,” he agrees. “How is ‘I’m arresting or detaining you for being what you are’ any less dumb?”

Title lets out a sigh, shaking her head in exasperation. “This is a terrible idea that will blow up in your face.”

“I don’t see how it could,” he argues. “It’ll deflect attention away from the colt a town over. Especially if this alicorn is female.”

“You’re making your disguise a mare?”

“I figure it’ll draw less immediate attention than a stallion. Besides, it’ll only appear to be a mare on the surface. It’s not like I’m growing it a damn womb or anything.”

“I’m not sure how I feel about that, to be honest.”

“I’m a little young to be four hooves deep in a mare, huh?” he asks, bursting out laughing.

“Oh my stars, Cure… seriously?”

“Get it?! Four hooves, like the length of a big schlong? HAH! Brilliant!”

“Upsetting is more like it.”

“Of course you could argue I’m too old to be in a mare like that, I guess. It depends on how you wanna look at it. She’ll be in her thirty-seventh, thirty-eighth trimester, roughly,” he says with a chuckle.

Title can’t help but snort out a laugh, nodding along. “That would be a great way to make your escape, right there. Pop out the back of the disguise and act like you don’t know what the hay’s goin on.”

“HA! That would be awesome. Just launch myself out the back half like an escape pod. ‘I don’t know what happened, officer! I was outside playing, then it got all dark all the sudden, then I fell asleep in a warm, safe place. It smelled kinda funny though and I think I need a shower!’”

Title is doing her best not to wake Savvy, laughing her head off quietly while turned away. The shaking doesn’t seem to be bothering the girl yet, fortunately. “Sun and stars, Cure… I don’t even know how big of a mess that would cause.”

“Well I wouldn’t do that anyhow. I guess if I tried this I would be bringing several teleport and shield crystals along, that way if the guard got really shitty I could teleport myself straight up in the air a hundred meters and take off flying. I’m confident I would be far faster than any pegasus could be, and it’s not like they could actually hurt me in the air anyhow. I could also just go way higher than they can and get away that way.”

“Uh huh. And if the princess just happens to be in the area?”

Shrugging helplessly he admits, “Confess instantly and on the spot. Well, once we have some privacy. I ain’t fighting that hard, and she would probably be more pissed at the guard than at me anyhow. I mean, I plan on healing, not starting a rebellion.”

“Huh. Yeah, I guess she probably would be a little upset if the guard chased off another alicorn, let alone a healer.”

“I bet so. The nice thing here is that with all this extra mass, all specced with the Hybrid Mark II mitochondria, my magic regeneration will be several times what it is now. I’ll go from empty to full in a few minutes. I bet the grabbing aura will be fucking nuts too. I’ll have double the mass of dad and then some.”

“You really need to consider not making this an alicorn, Cure. I think the sphynx would be better. Or, are there any other mythological creatures in your memories that would work? You definitely don’t wanna pretend to be a dragon or some kind of griffon.”

“Well centaur is sure as hell right out.”

“Centaur?”

“Imagine a minotaur from the waist up stuck on top of a pony’s body from the withers back and you basically got it.” After giving himself a very careful face-talon he uses his horn to project an Illusion. “I swear, I ALWAYS forget I can do that. Anyhow, Tirek is a centaur and he’s in Tartarus right now. I definitely don’t want to twig that memory.”

“Oh, right, you mentioned him before. What else can you do?”

“Uhh… I think there’s a deer version of an alicorn. Peryton? That… feels right, I think,” again, he projects an illusion of approximately what that would look like.

“I think the deer may object.”

“Deer are sapient?”

“Yeah, very reclusive though. There are non-sapient deer too, so it can be a little confusing at times. You can tell by their eyes really quickly, though. Sapient ones are forward facing, the animals are more on their sides.”

“Weird. You’d think they would call themselves something other than deer then. If their reclusive that’s not a bad option though. So the pery-whatever can go on the maybe list. Shame I can’t just do human. Their abdomens are too small for me to hide in. Unless I made a giant that would scare the shit out of everypony.”

“Yeah, you definitely don’t want anything scary.”

“I could do a big, winged bunny. You all thought it was adorable as hell.”

“Huh… that may actually not be a bad idea. I can’t imagine a guard attacking that.”

“There’s also wolves, foxes… It would have to be quadrupetal for a large enough abdomen, so no birds or kitsune or anything.” At his mom’s raised brow he explains, “Human, typically female in literature, with fox features like a fur coat. I think the wolf or fox would be best. More aerodynamic, even if they are carnivores.”

“Yeah, I suppose. You do realize that no matter what you choose they may just burn a letter to the princess as soon as some strange creature starts healing others, right?”

Cure lets out a sigh, nodding in acknowledgement. “I don’t suppose y’all would be okay with me flying across the ocean and doing this at a Gryphonian port instead, would you?”

“Mmm… I probably would if you stayed high enough just because I can’t imagine anything out there being a threat to you. Your dam would lock you in your room and eat the key if you even suggested it.”

“What about if I just approached ships still out to sea? Like… a few kilometers off the coast? I could fly high, spot a ship, come in, request permission to board, offer healing services, then take off. No guard at all.”

“Pegasi patrol over the water too, ya goof. You would have to be more than a kilometer or two out.”

“I could go farther out. Hell, I could fly to the capital and back in an hour and a half in that thing, I bet.”

“How?”

“Earth pony strength and pegasus aura makes me insanely fast, and I never tire, so I could go full tilt the whole time. When I use mage armor and chitin plates to reduce leading edge drag I can go way faster than a pegasus can.”

“You’ve already done that?”

“Ummm… Maybe once? I didn’t go all out though. I was just testing some ideas.”

“Glacial.” The one word accusation is evidently spot on. Cure does his best to project indifference, slowly turning away from his mother’s flat stare.

“Maybe,” he says again, failing to maintain the innocent look.

“Uh huh… Lemme guess.” Title changes her voice to a poor imitation of a little filly, “Oh Cure! Your wings are sooo big and strong. I wonder how fast you could go if you really tried!” then shoots him a smug look when he blushes.

“Your impression sucks,” he mutters under his breath, ears pinned back.

“Close enough, though, ain’t it?”

“Yeah,” he reluctantly admits. “We went northwest towards Hollow Shades and did a speed test. I’m pretty sure I could break the sound barrier if I tried. Again, earth pony strength on a pegasus is bullshit. Add in my biomanipulation and… well, yeah. I’m wondering what would happen if I had a keratin cone ‘cutting’ the wind ahead of me. You shoulda seen Drift! She was sooo freaking jealous,” he finishes with a beaming smile.

“I bet she was. You better not upset that girl too much, Cure. She’s the type that gets scornful.”

“Oh please,” he dismisses, waving a talon. “I think she’s fallen for me harder than Dawn has. You should see how excited she gets every time I give her alicorn wings. If we were five or six years older I’m pretty sure she woulda pinned me down by now.”

“She’s already a year and a half older than you. Don’t be surprised if she does that way before then.”

“Ugh… too squicky. That’s future Cure’s problem anyhow. That jerk can deal with horny teenage years, I’m more interested in coming up with a way to get some more scans,” he says, taking another bite.

“I don’t disagree that you shouldn’t go hoppin on whatever female raises her tail for ya, honey, but why do you say it’s squicky?” Holding up a placating hoof she finishes, “I’m really just curious.”

He nods in acceptance, finishing chewing up his mouthful of tree. “Sorry, tryin to chew thru this before everypony’s up,” he apologizes, getting an indifferent shrug from his mom. After swallowing he explains, “Nah, it’s fine. That’s a legitimate question. On one hoof…” he pauses, looking down before continuing, “talon, Heavy and I are the youngest of the group.

“Even amongst humans a teenager ‘scoring’ with an older girl was socially acceptable. Almost respected, in fact, as long as ages were close-ish. Hell, when Ed was in high school the guys actively tried to get in some of the teachers’ panties… especially this one teacher that taught art.”

Smiling wistfully, Cure explains, “She had a pretty face, nice legs, and one helluva set of tits. Ed would volunteer during study halls, err, empty slots in his school schedule typically used for doing homework. Anyhow, he would volunteer to help her as like a teacher’s aide. For one he liked playing with clay and stuff, but the main reason was she was hot.”

“Yeah, you’ve mentioned human fascination with teats before. I kinda get the association between ‘em and child baring, but it’s still weird. At least, to a pony. I dunno, maybe it’s something minotaurs or other bipedal creatures notice more.”

“Yeah, I dunno. I haven’t seen what a female minotaur looks like yet, but the male we met in Canterlot looked like something straight out of a video game Josh played. Anyhow, so the typical human outlook on a younger male bangin an older chick is, ‘go for it.’ The fact that our society not only agrees, but encourages it to the point where females actively pursue males makes it more difficult, if anything.

“Especially when, for the most part, there’s little to no repercussions. Ponies don’t just get unexpectedly pregnant except for a few weeks out of the year. Pound away any other time and, aside from the few easily cured STDs, there’s little to worry about.

“Sex is far more of a leisure activity and casual affair here as a result and society doesn’t stigmatize anypony for going at it. It’s worse for me because of the influence of the memories.”

Shrugging, he adds, “Mine or not, I don’t think anypony could say a lifetime of memories shoved in your head isn’t going to change you.” Title simply nods in agreement. “So yeah, that part of the human memories says ‘bang away’ and everything pony agrees, far more vocally even. The problem is that human standards changed a lot over Ed’s life.”

Title nods in understanding. “I’m guessing the age difference thing became a bigger issue?”

“It did, but age was only a part of it. A large part of the problem was based on power, as abstract of a concept as that is sometimes. One person with a lot of power being intimate with another that has very little or no power.

“So a twenty year old female teacher sleeping with an eighteen year old male student went from something the dude would brag about in Ed’s teens to something that would land the teacher in prison and permanently labeled a sex offender by the time he was forty. At least, I think it would in most of the country.”

“That… seems strange. Dumb, even. Eighteen was an adult in that society, right?”

“Yes, but again… power. If they weren’t student and teacher nobody would have any problem with it, but the power she had over him made it illegal. I’m not 100% sure about the sex offender part, but she would probably be arrested and would certainly lose her job.

“Make him seventeen and five days short of his eighteenth birthday and it’s a thousand times worse, again, I think. It may have varied from state to state. Regardless, there’s a huge power imbalance between me and my friends, completely ignoring the mental age part.”

“Yeah,” she agrees, “but there’s going to be a huge power imbalance between you and, likely, anypony you ever meet. At least, on some level. Because of the stuff you know that no pony normally would, your talent is so absurdly powerful that if that’s the standard you use you’ll be severely limiting your options. Especially if you keep working to develop your magic capacity.”

“Right. I know. The power difference is less important if I tell them about my memories and everything else, though, because they’re accepting that compared to being unaware or flat out refusing to act based on those factors.

“Informed consent is important, not just for me using my talent on somepony. Telling them about those memories is something I would prefer not to do until we’re older, which will create a completely different, huge flaming mess.”

“Because you’re keeping secrets from them then. Again.”

“Mmhmm,” he hums around another mouthful. “Exactly. And just like any other secret, the longer it’s a secret the worse it is when it finally comes to light.”

“Have you considered telling them? Maybe at least a version of the truth… like, ‘Hey something weird happened at my birthday last year and I got a bunch of memories crammed in my head.’”

“Many times, but -”

She finishes, interrupting him and answering her own question. “They would have questions about the memories and, coming from a completely different world would raise more questions and the whole thing would be a mess.”

“Yep. And they would, again, be forced to either say nothing and ostensibly lie to their parents, at least. That doesn’t even get into the whole question as to whether the memories make me pursuing a filly my own physical age the act of a child predator or something. That ticks both the ‘power imbalance’ and the age discrepancy problem all at once and in a big way.”

“You’re eight either way, Cure,” she insists.

“Am I? Age is a somewhat arbitrary measure when you factor in the fantastical. When the Crystal Empire reappears are all the foals technically still foals or are they now technically over a thousand?”

“Foals,” she instantly answers.

“Okay,” he agrees with a nod. “Better example. I create a deaging process that, instead of making somepony twenty five or so, screws up. Too much power got poured in or whatever, so now they’re ten instead. Are they a foal or not?”

“Did they keep their…” she pauses and has a look of realization.

“Memories?” he finishes, smirking.

“Okay. That’s actually a really good analogy. Couldn’t you… I dunno, re-age them?”

“I could if I scanned them first, but then the memory issue comes up again. Would I be killing a foal to turn them into an adult? Did I kill the adult if they didn’t keep their memories? In many ways, I would say yes to both. It’s a classic catch twenty two.”

“Unfamiliar term, babe.”

“Ah, that’s a newer expression for humans. It’s from a book and refers to a scenario where there’s not a single right answer, basically. I think, specifically, the two options have to be mutually exclusive and both have negative outcomes to really nail the meaning right, but that fits the scenario I described almost perfectly.”

“Right. You can’t do both and either way, depending on how you look at it, somepony kind of ‘dies.’ So, how do you think you’ll deal with this?”

“Ask the boss lady for a ruling to establish precedence should the issue of somepony specifically asking for that come up. I don’t know that I’ll necessarily agree with her answer, but from a ‘cover my rear’ standpoint if Princess Celestia says that the newly made foal is indeed a foal, even with their memories intact, then at least I’ll feel less guilt if I do end up in a relationship with somepony my own age.”

“And if she says the de-aged foal is technically an adult?”

“If they keep their memories I’m almost certain that’s what she would say. That and re-age them, I bet. I’ll have to have a serious conversation with the girls at some point over the next three years so they don’t feel like I’m giving them the cold shoulder. Maybe sooner.

“I think the context in which it’s presented will be paramount. ‘I was a forty seven year old human reincarnated as a pony’ is very different from ‘Somehow some weird ape creature’s memories got crammed in my head shortly after my 8th birthday.’ I damn sure ain’t bringin up future events.”

“No, I wouldn’t share that with anypony just yet. Maybe the princess eventually, but… yeesh.”

“Everything’s gotta be complicated, huh, mom?”

“Yeah.”

“Well, anyhow, the fact that the memories arbitrarily returned years later and the date alignment of my birth versus his death makes me think it’s probably the latter. If our worlds’ times line up then my guess is that the memory imprint took some time to travel through the aether or the void or whatever you want to call the space between universes before they, somehow, landed on me.”

“I dunno, babe. I guess getting a ruling from her highness is about the best you can do for now.”

“Yep. As far as options go, it’s about the best one I can think of. I kinda wonder what she herself does.”

“What?” Title asks, confused.

He shrugs and asks, “There’s a huge imbalance of power between her and normal ponies. Does she take lovers?”

“She does. Not publicly, but she has had lovers over the centuries. I’m sure that’s been really difficult for her, though.”

“Right,” he agrees. “For a million reasons, no doubt. No wonder she looked like she was going to cry for a moment there at dinner.”

“Yeah, I wasn’t mentally prepared for that,” she admits with a wince.

Scoffing, Cure nods along. “I bet not. Nopony is prepared to see Deus Sol Invictus cry.”

With a single raised brow Title asks, “Invincible sun god?”

“That’s what some stories called her. Celestia Sol Invictus. It means Unconquerable Sun. Remember how we talked about different versions of ‘Celestia’ having different levels of power depending on the story?”

“Right, I guess that makes sense. For the record, I have heard Celestia Sol before, but I think that’s just an unofficial title. Her name is just Celestia.”

“Eh, that’s what we call her now, but I’m almost certain that’s not what her name was at birth. I don’t think I’ll be on a first name only basis with her anytime soon regardless.”

“Dunno, babe. I guess we’ll figure that out in a couple months.”

“Yeah… so, back to my idea about flying out to meet boats that are coming in, you said pegasi patrol near land, right?”

“Yeah, at least a few kilometers out. I bet they have patrols watching for pirate vessels or hostile fleets or whatever, just in case.”

“I would hope so. I can go out a lot further and faster than a pegasus can, though. Also, unlike pegasi I can telescope my eyes thanks to owls and eagles, so at about five kilometers up I should be able to read the names of boats still fifty, maybe a hundred kilometers out to sea and fly to them in about five to ten minutes depending.”

“That’s insane.”

“I know. You could do it too if you wanted. Well, you won’t be able to go as fast, but still… seven, eight minutes maybe? At least, once the conversion is further along. Another two weeks, tops. Mansion in the sky, ma.”

“Huh. I still suspect you’d be spotted and the princess would eventually show up. She can fly here in an hour, after all.”

“It is possible,” he agrees, “but I would be long gone by the time they, A, spot me, B, send a message, and C, she flies all the way out. She’s the freaking princess, do you really think she would fly halfway across the country unless there’s a good reason to?”

“Like a wise-mouthed biomanipulator?”

“Which she took three and a half months to check on, remember?”

“Eh. True.”

“I would only need to go out a few times. Maybe just once. I would just have to do it at irregular times, maybe roll a couple dice and only go out when I hit a twelve. Supposedly things like that are a good way to throw off precognition, ya know? Base decisions off of random things. Not that dice rolling is terribly random, but still. As I understand it she’s not a very powerful precog anyhow. She just occasionally gets dreams.”

“I’m not going to say no,” she starts, “and I’m not going to say yes. I will say that, should somepony go out and do this a couple times and, and this is important,” she emphasizes, jabbing her hoof at him on each word, “not get caught, then I’m willing to pretend this conversation never happened. I swear if you get in trouble I’m going to have the mother of all I told you so’s ready when they drag your rear in the door, though.”

“Thanks ma!” he beams, then with a look of confusion he asks, “Wait… conversation? What conversation? What were we talking about again?”

“Uh huh. So anyhow, just how big are you making this thing?”

Cure motions to the stack of logs. “That big. I figure there’s about five hundred kilograms of wood. Any extra can just be turned into a plant or whatever. I also plan on experimenting with a few kilograms once the bit pouches I ordered get here. I’ll lose a couple percent this way, since I’m burning a fair amount of energy and all. It’s less than you’d think thanks to my modified GI tract.”

“So basically you’re going to crap dozens of kilograms?”

“More like a dozen or so. And you’re not completely wrong, but it won’t really be poop like you’re thinking. It’ll be, basically, pre-treated slurry. Gross, granted, but it won’t smell like you’re thinking because it won’t have all the same bacteria and stinky minerals in it like normal fecal matter does.

“Don’t worry, it won’t clog the drain or anything. It’ll be like… four or five hearty dumps, though. Jeez I wonder if a cleaning cantrip will help there. How the hay does that work, anyhow?” he wonders aloud.

“Try it and find out. I’d rather you do that than potentially back something up.”

“I could just sneak off into the woods and drop a massive deuce out there. Somewhere in the brush. I’ve been made to understand bears do that. Again, the dump will be distinctly non-pony in origin. By all appearances, at least.”

Sighing, Title shakes her head. “I would rather you just use the toilet if Cleaning doesn’t work. I think it can deal with a half dozen craps in a day.”

“Yeah, it’s not like I need to blow it all out at once. Just another bonus from having my talent; full bladder and sphincter control.”

“You joke but I’m sure there’s several older ponies that would happily trade their actual talent for that.”

“Probably. You know the saying. You don’t know what you’ve got ‘till it’s gone. On the other hoof, how much would it suck to have a cutie mark that’s a butthole squeezing out a loaf?”

“That would be embarrassing,” she agrees. “At least it would be useful though.”

“What’s the worst cutie mark you’ve ever seen, mom? I mean, you yourself, not ones you’ve heard of.”

“Counting. A younger filly in my school got a cutie mark with one, two, and three in an arc like a rainbow during math class one day. It was the only time I was afraid for the day I would get a cutie mark instead of being afraid I never would.”

“Holy shit, really? Just counting?”

“I think so. Granted she could count really fast and was always right, but yes.”

“Freaking Rain Man!” he shouts, wide-eyed. “That’s wild!”

“Rain man?”

“Classic movie, ma. Tom Cruise and Dustin Hoffman. It’s about this dude, Tom Cruise’s character, who finds out he has an older brother. The brother is mentally deficient though. He has a form of autism, I think. The details aren’t important but at one point Cruise’s character drops a bunch of matches and Rain Man, who’s actual name is Raymond, instantly counts how many matches fell.

“It’s kind of a sad story about how people with mental deficiency end up getting neglected and stuff, not necessarily out of maliciousness but kinda more out of necessity due to circumstances.”

Title looks absolutely stricken by the subject. “How could that ever be necessary?”

“In the movie I think Raymond accidentally hurt the younger brother by burning him with shower water that was too hot. The parents were afraid he would inadvertently do something else like that, maybe something permanent, so they put him in a group home or something.”

Title looks ready to blurt something out, but Cure doesn’t give her a chance.

“It was a movie Ed saw like thirty years before he died, so details are fuzzy, but don’t go getting all righteous on me,” he warns, pointing a talon at her, then at the stairs. “If her parents can turn their rears on my sweet, loving, beautiful dam when she’s pregnant, scared, and broke at fifteen fucking years old then I don’t want to hear a god damned word about how ponies aren’t every bit as heartless sometimes!”

Title raises her hooves placatingly at the impassioned colt, conceding the point. “That’s fair. Ponies can be pieces of shit.”

“Sorry,” he mumbles, releasing a deep sigh. “That was uncalled-for.” With a much softer look he again says, “I am really sorry, mom. You didn’t deserve that. It’s easy to forget I have pointy bits on the end of my legs instead of hooves,” he notes, holding up his right talons. “Don’t worry, if anycreature else ever points a talon or claw at ya I’ll feed them their own freakin wings.”

“It’s okay, sweetie. I know you didn’t mean anything by it. And I don’t think you have to go that far, either.”

“Lines must be established and never crossed without consequence,” he states with utmost conviction.

“Anyhow, yeah, your friend’s talent kinda sucks if that’s actually the limit of it. It could be fantastic for some things though. She would make a great quartermaster, inventory manager, or logistics worker, I bet. If a human had that ability they would put her in military reconnaissance and praise the stars to have her. Think of how fast she could determine an enemy force.”

“Huh. I never thought about that,” she agrees, slowly nodding. “Are there any talents you think would be worthless?”

“I suspect there aren’t any that are. At least, not completely. Obviously some are more valuable than others, but I really do believe that anypony could find something that their talent does that’s worthwhile. Ya know, something that came up on Earth was ‘adult’ marks. Like, one of the first things that went through my head when the memories hit was, ‘What would I do if I got a sex cutie mark?’”

“Oh yeah, those exist. I know of one stallion that has a sex cutie mark. He’s a unicorn, bright white coat. Little taller than average for them, too.”

Cure can’t help but snicker at that. “What’s his mark? A big ‘ol dong flopping about?”

Title snorts out a laugh, shaking her head, “No, it’s a profile of a pregnant pink mare, sat on her haunches.”

“Huh. That’s not too bad, I guess.”

“Yeah, I’ve never heard of a cutie mark that’s quite as obscene as a schlong would be,” she says with a giggle. “He makes a fortune in fashion, as a model, and, of course, every estrus season. Mares absolutely fawn over him, especially single unicorns.”

“Huh. Well, good for him. It sounds exhausting, though. I guess I should expect that in a world with fewer stallions. What does his talent actually do, though? Is he just huge or do the mares he plows always get pregnant or what?”

“The latter, if they’re in season. He can’t just knock somepony up without an egg.” She keeps talking over Cure’s muttered “amateur.” “He’s supposed to be pretty good in the sack too, but I think most of his fame is from the novelty of it. He does have a big schlong, too, but you’re aware that’s not always a good thing.”

“Yeah, you definitely don’t want a small closet scenario. That’s not fun for either party.”

“Small closet? That sounds like something stupid your sire would say.”

Chuckling, Cure agrees. “That’s exactly right, ma. How’d ya guess?”

“Eh, you’re usually a lot more candid than ‘closet’ and I don’t see you really asking your dam, so process of elimination.”

“Fair. It was right after I got my mark. I think you were busy doing some last minute paperwork when we had that talk.” Smiling fondly he tells her, “You should have seen dam. She looked like she wanted to either disappear or murder dad. Maybe both.” Cure can’t help but chuckle when he pictures his dam, glowing red from hooves to ears.

“Sounds ‘bout right,” she agrees. “You get back to eating,” she suggests, waving her hoof in a shooing motion, “I wanna see this.”

After a few minutes of Cure munching on the logs, Title holds up her hoof. “Why are you biting through the wood anyhow? Can’t you just dice it or even mince it with your talent?”

“Umm… because I’m kinda dumb sometimes? I’m not sure about mincing but I can definitely cut it into smaller pieces without exhausting my magic. I suppose it would be quieter and faster.”

The pair resume; Cure uses his talent to cut the logs into small blocks as he eats, Title reads a book and watches in fascination as Cure’s “cushion” continues to grow. About an hour in, Savvy wakes and demands her tithe, nursing from her dam, then playing with the knocked over rings Cure had made. She’s not stacking them, but she does like to chew on them enough that he’s had to do some repairs already.

So far her favorite toy seems to be something Edward had seen in a few doctor’s offices. He never knew what it was called but it has long, quarter inch thick wires, basically, that curve and do loops, anchored into a box with disks on them like an abacus. The human version had rubber or plastic coated metal wires; Savvy’s is more hardcore with bone wrapped in a thin, pulled-tight silk layer.

After another hour Cure has, finally, crammed a little under two Deeds worth of wood down his gullet. The process started slow, but as he gained mass the effect from the cutting field on the teeth and the capacity of the second GI tract increased, so it accelerated exponentially. He considered adding a mouth right on the stomach and just tossing logs in, but he wasn’t sure how his mom would react to that.

It only took another half hour for enough to digest everything, at which point he finally declared he was ready to begin.

“Alright, this may look a little weird,” he comments from atop the huge, round mass. His mom raises a single brow at the colt. “First thing I’m gonna do is turn the whole thing into a plant, then reshape it.”

“A plant? Why a plant?”

“It’ll just make it easier, trust me.”

“What about the mitochondria, though? If you change those won’t you stop getting magic from it?”

“Plants have mitochondria too, mom. Everything that’s alive does, at least as far as I can tell. It’s not as big of a change as you’d expect. It won’t really be a plant like you’re thinking. I’m not changing the blood to chlorophyll for example. It’ll be much closer to a plant, animal hybrid.”

The process goes much more quickly than Title would have expected. She supposes she should have seen that coming, though, as Cure can change a hoof into a hand in less than thirty seconds. The scale is much larger, but he’s still doing the same thing.

When he’s done he hops off the top of the ‘plant’ assuming that’s even the correct term, though he does still have an umbilical cord, of a sort, attached to his gut at the navel. It’s essentially a large rectangle of twisted red vines at this point, a fair amount larger than the princess’s barrel in all three dimensions.

“Ooohhkkaay… so what now, babe? It looks like a huge, heavy, scary, pony-eating shrub or something.”

“Yeah, but this will make it easier to reshape it. At least, it’ll remove the pressure to try to hurry or whatever. I can get the physical shape right, then transmute it all at once. It’ll also be… I dunno, less traumatic?” When she gives him a curious look he explains, “Think of it this way, if this was made out of meat and bones and whatnot and I was just casually reshaping it wouldn’t that bug the crap outta ya?”

“Me? Yes, absolutely. I still don’t get how you can casually change a hoof to a hand or,” she waves at his forelegs, “talons. I can deal, but it’s not like it doesn’t get the hairs on my spine up a little seein it.”

“Exactly. This way I can make it the right shape and, instead of my brain saying ‘you are rearranging another creature’s entire body’ I’m actually just shaping some wood and vines. It would be a lot easier if I was some kinda sociopath or whatever, but thankfully that’s not the case.”

With his cord still attached he casually sits on his haunches next to his mom and stares impassively at the plant. The whole night has been fucking weird, Title notes, but watching as a huge winged, horned wolf takes shape from the shrub is pretty bizarre, even relatively speaking. Cure shapes it over ten minutes and has it positioned so it’s laying on its barrel, head resting on the floor between its forelegs.

“What do you think, ma? Pay homage with white and gold? Go the goth route with darker colors? Frost wolfe white and blues? I could do the ‘arcane’ wolf; pink and purple with bioluminescent highlights. I feel like that would point straight back to me though.”

“Mmm now that I’m lookin at it I’m not sure if wolf is a great pick, honey. I think if that’s flying at a boat they’re gonna crap themselves.”

Cure looks the plant over from front to back. She’s right, of course. It’s a huge fucking wolf with wings and a horn. Who wouldn’t crap themselves if that was flying at them at five hundred kph?

“This is turning into a pain in the ass,” he mumbles. “Hey, speaking of asses, where the hay are all the donkeys?”

“Don’t call them asses!” Title instantly scolds. “That’s a derogatory name.”

“What? Really?”

“Yeah, dummy! Why wouldn’t it be?”

“On Earth that’s what they were originally called. People only called other people asses as an insult saying they’re stubborn. The name ‘donkey’ is relatively new.”

“Huh. Well, don’t call a donkey an ass. It’ll get ya punched.”

“That’s nice,” he dismissively says with an eye roll. “Where are they?”

“Mostly on farms,” she says with a shrug. “I think there’s some farms to the north, west of Parkdale that are donkey-owned. There’s not a whole lot of them.”

“Really? Do they have earth pony magic?”

“No. I don’t think they have any magic at all. They can grab things with their hooves like we can, but that’s it. I guess they are pretty strong, though, so maybe?”

“Huh. What about mules?”

“Mules?”

“Umm… on earth a mule is what’s born when a horse and a donkey have a foal.”

Title looks horrified at the thought, something Cure finds amusing. “What’s wrong, ma, not into donkeys?”

“Hey, I don’t judge, but no,” she defends, shaking her head. “Not at all, though. I can honestly tell you I have no idea what happens when a pony and a donkey have a foal, honey.”

“Okay, fair enough. On earth mules are sterile, but live longer and are usually smarter than horses. Horses and donkeys are close enough to produce a foal but not close enough to have it come out quite right. I think. Anyhow, back to the matter at… umm,” he looks at his talons, “talon? I guess?”

“Right. You suck at staying on topic,” she points out.

“You’re no freakin better,” he accuses. “At least I have a foal’s brain, what’s your excuse?”

“An annoying brat hopping from topic to topic?”

“... You know what, that’s fair. So anyhow,” he drawls out, waving at the wolf.

“Alright, fine. First off, pick a freaking herbivore of some kind. You’re the one always calling everypony wusses. Well, don’t give them a reason to be scared.”

“Maybe I’m going at this the wrong way. Maybe instead of flying I should go with something that swims.”

“In the ocean?!” she hisses. “Are you insane?!”

“What? Do you think a stupid shark could take me? Seriously?”

“Babe, there’s shit out there that would make a shark sprint the other direction!” Title pauses, cocks her head to the side, and adds, “I mean… if they could sprint. You know what I mean.”

“Really? There’s like, legitimate sea monsters?”

“Huge killer squids and shit, yes. One of those things could bite you in half before you even know it’s there.”

“Bullshit. I could do a freaking narwhal horn and anything within a… wait, that’s brilliant!”

“What?”

“Horn size dictates aura! I could fly over to the ocean somewhere on the coast, then just glide ten meters above the ocean with a gigantic ass horn. It doesn’t even need to be on my head! I could basically make the whole underside a two meter long horn. Solar said a horn’s aura usually extends a meter and a half per centimeter. He said there may be an upper limit, but at two meters long we’re talkin a three hundred meter aura.”

“Radius or diameter?”

“Radius. Huh… I wonder if differently shaped horns can change that… you know, like a parabolic dish?”

Title just gives him a blank look.

“Stay there, ma!” he shouts, then moves a couple meters away, reaches up, and removes his horn completely. “Okay, so no horn, no aura, of course. You’re two meters away…” he takes a big step back, “three meters away, so a two centimeter horn should barely get ya.”

“Okay…”

Cure removes two centimeters from the tip of the horn and sticks it on his bump. “Okay, yep. I’m barely getting your head and hooves.” Cure alters the small horn so that, instead of a simple horn, the top centimeter is curved into a parabolic dish.

“That looks really freaking weird, Cure.”

“Yeah, and it’s not doing anything, either. Hold on, I have an idea, but it’ll look even weirder.” From Edward’s memories, Cure knows that satellite dishes typically have a receiver of some kind in front of them that the parabola is focusing signals on, or that is sending the signal to the dish to broadcast out.

Cure had initially established that whatever metaphysical effect is happening that creates the aura relies on the horn, and given that griffon auras specifically respond to keratin, which is what horns are made of, it would be logical to assume that so long as keratin and the typical nerves are present in the horn itself, the reflecting dish is probably not all that important as long as it is make of keratin as well.

With this in mind he creates a two-part horn. The first is just a regular horn, short as it is at two centimeters. For the other half he peels off a layer from the remainder of the horn, curving it into a dish and placing it behind his short horn.

“Yeah. That did it,” he says, looking around the room. “It tripled my range. Good grief… I could take this huge chunk of wood, stand on town hall, spin a circle, and scan probably half or more of the town. Well, maybe not with walls, but whatever.”

“You look like a freaking idiot.”

“Thanks, ma.”

“Sure, sweetie. Seriously, though, that’s fantastic. So you could make one of those,” she says, waving at the dish, “and fly over the ocean and scan all the way down, basically.”

“Yep. Maybe. It depends on how deep it is. And how much water reduces range. The pond is the only body of water I’ve scanned and I didn’t use a horn there. It was all earth pony scanning.”

“You know, I feel dumb not thinking about this before, but what if instead of an alicorn you just go without a horn on? That completely changes the situation.”

“Seems like it’s a little too close to what I’m trying to avoid ponies assuming.”

“You think a gigantic winged female pony is too similar to you, a six hoof tall earth-”

“And a half!” he interrupts. Title gives him a flat stare until he sheepish defends, “Almost. I’m a centimeter under six and a half.”

“Fine!” she growls, “six and a half hoof tall earth pony colt. Better?”

“Yes,” he defiantly answers. “And to answer your question… I guess you’re right. The horn would definitely distance it from me though.”

“Yeah, and cause a riot potentially. You know how ponies react to the princess. If you go out there looking like another alicorn it’ll be in every paper across the country within days.”

“What if I went to the docks as a slightly taller unicorn and, when the Guard comes, teleport away? If I took each of the mids with me that’s… that would require I tell dam. Argh. I need more mids. Each one is good for a hundred meters. I could chain them and literally run into the woods if I need to escape. Once I’m in the woods nopony would ever find me.”

“Make ten scrolls, dummy. Between those, the two mids, and the mid-high that’s a kilometer and a half total. That would get you away with your speed.”

“Yeah… and once I’m out of line of sight I can change the disguise to whatever. Hell, I could turn into a tree and wait ‘em out.”

“Eh, you maybe should rush home. Somepony might decide to come see if the biomanipulator a town over has an alibi.”

“Shit! You’re right. How far away is Fillydelphia?”

“I’m not sure exactly. To get there by train you gotta go west almost to Foaledo, then north, then back east. It’s a long train ride. They’re working on a line up the coast but it’ll be a while. Flying? You could be there in fifteen to twenty minutes at the speeds you said you can go. There’s not nearly as many boats there, though. New Horseleans, Baltimare, or Manehattan are the major port cities.”

“And New Horseleans and Manehattan are both pretty far away.”

“Manehattan is another thirty minutes north maybe. New Horseleans is pretty damn far. Like, one and a half times as far as Canterlot.”

“Canterlot… I hadn’t even thought about that!”

“Are you serious?”

“Oh yeah, absolutely! I was going to tell the boss lady most of the stuff I can do anyhow. I’ll bring this,” he pats the plant, “along and see if I can have some fun with it while I’m there.”

Flatly, she says, “This sounds like a horrible idea,” then in a cheerful, excited voice adds, “I can’t wait!”

“Eff it, I’m doing a damn alicorn for now. I’ll drive it upstairs and turn it into a plant in my room, I guess. Maybe first thing some random Saturday morning I can go to Baltimare and do some pro bono healing at the docks and be back before my flight to the hospital gets here.”

He gets started reshaping the plant. Shape-wise there’s not a whole lot different. The barrel is about the same. The neck is longer, but narrower from the withers clear up to the snout. The main differences are the head, neck, and feet. Externally, at least. The skeleton is significantly different, but Cure hadn’t done anything but give the overall shape to it yet.

“Yeah, you don’t wanna be late. Autoimmune disorders this time, right?”

“Yep. It was going to be cardiology but with the stem… origin cell plants apparently they think they’ll be able to deal with heart issues fine once they can start using them. Go figure.”

“Yeah, who’da thunk it?”

“Right?” he agrees.

“Your sire totally ratted you out. You know that, right?”

“I’m still a little salty with him,” Cure says with a scowl.

“We’re very much aware. So was I, but he was right that she didn’t deserve to lose her job over a dumb foal’s argument.”

“That’s the only reason I signed the damn thing.”

“I know, honey. You made that abundantly clear when you got home.”

Sighing, Cure nods in acceptance. It had turned into quite the argument when he came home after his cosmetic customers. Neither mare flat out agreed with Deed, though Vines’ point that Mrs. Hire was just doing her job made it clear she was at least somewhat on his side. Title adamantly insisted Cure should have walked right out, though, to the point Cure had to put Savvy in a sound bubble so she wouldn’t hear her dam ripping her sire a new asshole.

Cure’s main issue was that signing the form was the same as admitting he was wrong, which he vehemently disagreed with, though he also acknowledged that it wasn’t worth costing a mare her job just to be obstinate over it. Finally the family had to basically agree to disagree on whether he should have signed the form right then and there.

At least if anypony gives him grief over it he can argue he completely disagreed with the narrative and only signed it because his sire made him. Given the fact he originally refused to the point of quitting and had witnesses to corroborate it, he wasn’t worried about it biting him in the rear later.

Dr. Care apparently was pissed beyond measure the following Monday, and brought the matter up during the weekly board meeting. Since the hospital is a government-run entity the minutes from most meetings are publicly available. Fortunately they routinely redact private information such as his and Hire’s names, but the general narrative would still be public record.

Though she couldn’t give Cure details, Gale explained that Hire may receive “counseling” about bringing up disciplinary matters up in an inappropriate setting. Cure found it amusing that Dr. Care’s presence ended up causing Mrs. Hire problems twice over. Once at the meeting and a second time for her presence during a discussion that should have only involved Cure, a parent, and Gale as his acting supervisor.

After everything was said and done, the agreement the family reached is that Cure would, in the future, have more autonomy to decide things like that without a parent completely overruling his opinion.

Though not happy with the circumstances of the agreement he felt that the deal made up for it. He still wouldn’t flat out ignore his parents, of course, but their agreement not to actively interfere with his professional decisions unless advice is solicited seems worth taking the loss on this one.

“I was very clear that the tax valuation was a request, not a demand. I had already given them everything anyway.” More quietly he insists, “She coulda said no.”

Rolling her eyes she says, “Cure, the way he tells it that doctor would have said yes to anything.”

“It was a reasonable request and she even said so herself,” he defends. “Besides, they’re only crediting me two hundred bits per unit per week. That’s less than I expected.”

“I’m just teasing you, honey,” she says. “I agree with you. It was a reasonable request. Remember, I’m the one that said you should be getting paid for your work anyhow?”

“Yeah.”

“So how many plants are they going to … plant, I guess? That sounded weird.”

“Eight Origins, two Bloods. Ten, total.”

“Only ten?” she asks.

“For now,” he explains. “They gotta test everything first. It all has to go through a medical review that will probably take months if not years. I think they’re willing to roll the dice if somepony is about to, otherwise, bleed out or whatever, so they’re crediting me for ten for now… at least, once they’re all matured in a few weeks.

“The originals and a half dozen seeds from each are already in Canterlot, but those don’t count since I don’t have an agreement with the RHA there. The board insists they’ll have it sorted out soon though. I think when those,” he waves towards his room, “are ready I’ll disable the cloning thing though.”

With a sigh he continues, “I don’t care for the fact that the those plants are out of my hooves, even if they’re paying for them, sort of. I get why they sent them to Canterlot, but I kinda wish they had told me first. I don’t like feeling like I have so little control over my creations.”

Title nods in agreement. “That’s not a bad idea. At least the contract they sent is fair. I mean, they didn’t fight at all over ownership rights, so they’re still your plants.”

“True. I guess that’s ultimately the important thing. I mean, technically, they would have to be my plants for me to be ‘renting’ them to them, so they probably figured I wouldn’t be as generous as charging zero rent if they tried something.”

“I wouldn’t worry about them, honey,” she says dismissively. “I’m certain they wouldn’t want to risk alienating somepony that can throw that together in a week. Did they give you any clue how many trees are they’re going to eventually plant?”

“Umm. Like, a few hundred as best I can figure. At least, of the Origin Cell ones once they go through all the testing. They don’t need as many Blood ones. They estimate thirty in each of the major metro’s like Cloudsdale, Chicoltgo, and Manehattan including the clinics in the surrounding suburbs.

“Fifteen to twenty in the large metro’s like Fillydelphia, Dodge City, and San Franciscolt. I dunno. They’re almost free, upkeep wise. Sugar isn’t exactly expensive and when they’re just sitting there they don’t even need that, just some light, water, and fresh soil every so often.”

“So let’s round it and say two hundred and fifty plants total between all of the clinics, hospitals, and so forth. That’s fifty grand per week, Cure.”

“Yup. Not bad for a few days’ work. No more taxes, I bet. Eventually. I’m done, by the way, in case you hadn’t noticed.”

“Yeah, babe, the conversation was so enthralling I missed the gargantuan wooden, viney alicorn. That thing is fucking enormous, Cure,” she points out, looking over the massive plant.

“Some will get burned off as energy when I convert it to meat.”

“Two hooves? That’s gotta be about how much bigger it is than her. Not to mention it’s built like a freaking battleship.”

“It’s just a bit bulkier than she is. She probably had a shit diet when she was a filly. I can’t imagine food was readily abundant during the bloody Age of Chaos. God I bet her foalhood sucked balls.”

“I guess ya never think about that kinda stuff. Yeah, she probably didn’t have it super easy, huh?”

“How old is she, really? Are we talking fifteen hundred? Two thousand? More?”

“She’s never directly said. She’s definitely over fifteen hundred. Probably closer to two thousand,” Title answers. “It took hundreds of years to clean up the mess left behind, let alone however many centuries it took to unify everypony. Of course most of the history from that era is only known because she was there to bear witness and share it with scholars later.”

“Jesus… That’s insane. I wonder what we’ll be like in a hundred years. I can’t fathom two, three hundred let alone a thousand.”

“Dunno, honey. I’m sure you’ll have everything figured out well before a hundred at the rate you’re going.”

“Meh, that’s okay. The six will have easy mode to look forward to. Then again I think there were only like five or six legitimate threats throughout the whole series as far as I know. Most of it was just friendship lessons and crap. There’s only a few threats I’m even mildly concerned about at this point. We’ll see, I suppose.”

Title raises an eyebrow at that, prompting him to explain. “Nightmare Moon and Sombra. I’m a little leery of Tirek but only because power stealers are basically at the top of the ‘BS Power List.’ Not that I have a lot of room to talk there. I figure I can take him out from a safe distance if he does end up actually escaping.”

“Ah,” she says, nodding in understanding.

Cure looks over the alicorn. It’s still a plant, but he’s planning out exactly how this will work. The cranium, unlike a normal brain, will lack the typical parts responsible for anything related to memory, personality, decision making, or anything that would change it from a suit into something that could reasonably be called a living creature. That’s a moral quandary he plans on wholly sidestepping.

It still contains everything needed for the sensory inputs along with a thickened spinal cord to maximize data transmission speed. Cure is concerned that there may be a millisecond delay between the eyes and his brain if it’s located just behind where the heart will be instead of in the head. His body will occupy the space normally reserved for internal organs like the kidney, liver, and the GI tract.

The vast majority of the suit will be layer upon layer of dense, powerful muscle. Conscious of the possibility of having magic somehow be cut off like Chrysalis’ throne’s effect, the finalized version of the suit will have prepared, ready to non-magically deploy internal weapons.

He plans to add retractable claws, keratin razor wire, and modified, bolt action airguns in the legs, hooves, and shoulders, in addition to a second, normally retracted set of sharpened teeth, not to mention a variety of venom glands that function and are deployable with no magic at all.

Cure is already planning to include a layer of dust-infused armor with sockets for hardening, an anti-scanning permanent shield, and additional slots for teleport crystals in an emergency. He’d considered including Sharpening for the blades but found the spell from Dr. Care was redundant with the griffon aura. It is castable on his bone darts for extra armor penetration, though.

Deciding it's time to test out the initial, unarmed version, he envisions the heavily modified cardiovascular system, pulmonary system, glands, partial nervous system, skeleton, and a large number of ganglia to assist with proper movement.

He starts with the skeleton and works his way out, building a mostly-functional pseudo-alicorn body from the plant mass. Shaping it first was a good decision, he reflects, allowing him to focus more on the squishy parts without having to simultaneously think about how it will look.

The process is faster than it has any right to be, owing to the fact that, conceptually and metaphysically, he is only altering his own body. The hundreds and hundreds of scans he has available make it far easier than anticipated. Within only a few minutes the formerly plant-like figurine is now a flesh and blood, though technically brainless and deceased, unascended alicorn body.

“That was, I hope, the weirdest fucking thing I’ll ever witness in my entire life,” Title solemnly declares.

“No promises, ma. Ya know, when I’m not ‘wearing’ this I’m considering using this for my home defense plant that I mentioned the other day. I’ll probably use the same approach to making that because, frankly, why not? I’ll be able to plug into it and, for all intents and purposes, be all over the house. We’ll have to do a small trial to see if, when one of you plugs in, whether or not the plant stops being ‘me’ and becomes ‘you’ instead. I have my doubts, though.”

“Why? Because we’re not eating it?”

“Nah. If you go back to the ear and wing thing you said earlier, if I were to grow a wing, disconnect it, and put it on you, would that still be my wing?”

“I mean… in a way?”

“Yeah. I think that, over time maybe, it would become ‘your wing’ eventually, but at least for a little while I think that, conceptually, it’s still my wing, even if I change it to match your colors. Heck, even if I change the cells to yours, biologically, which I would have to to prevent rejection, I bet it’s still considered ‘me’ until maybe your blood is flowing through it for a while. I dunno,” he finishes with a shrug.

“Well maybe we should try with something small so we know for sure,” she suggests.

“Good call, ma. I can put a small patch of skin in your foreleg pit and we’ll test it at one day, five days, ten days, etcetera until it stops being ‘me’. Does that sound okay? You won’t even know it’s there.”

“Yeah, sure. Now you got me wondering. Go ahead,” she says, holding out a foreleg.

Cure takes a small patch of skin and, essentially, grafts it onto the inside of his mom’s leg, restoring the fur over top of it afterwards. “I’ll check it in an hour, then in the morning, then we’ll just wait one more day each time until it’s ‘you’ instead of ‘me’ okay?”

“Sounds good, honey. Now… are you gonna put your suit on?”

“Yeah, sure,” he eagerly nods. The body is still laying on its barrel, head down between its forelegs, wings laying limp on its sides. Cure smirks as he approaches the rear and begins gently rubbing on the dock, quickly changing his talons into hands. “Ya gotta get the girl in the right mood, ma.”

“Cure… no.”

“What? You can’t just slam all this home,” he says, motioning to himself. “You gotta ease it in at first. Maybe light some candles or something. Shame y’all don’t have smooth jazz to play.”

“Just put the damn thing on.”

“Fiiine.” He absorbs his wings, tail, and horn back into his body, then rolls the suit onto its left side so the back is to his mom and sister. Like unzipping a onesie, he opens the barrel from the stomach, then squats down and pushes his way in, head first, rolling onto his shoulder and pulling his hind feet in. After only a few seconds the suit starts moving, opening its eyes and rolling to its barrel.

Title regrets immensely that she did not cast a Sound Bubble before he did so. The loud, almost comically over the top “schlorp” noise was very upsetting. Thankfully Savvy is out cold, still leaning against her tummy.

In a far deeper voice it quietly says, “So far so good, ma. Gimme a second and I should have everything hooked in.”

“Hooked in?”

“Yeah… my actual body has to be able to get air and since this,” it taps its chest with a forehoof, “doesn’t actually have a kidney, liver, or any part of the digestive tract my body is providing all that. There’s a lot of hooking in that needs to happen. The esophagus and trachea,” he says, trailing a hoof from his chin to his chest, “are directly down my throat, though the latter is split between the suit’s lungs and my own.

“I did you the favor of not seeing me completely coatless, but I retracted all of that as I climbed in, too. The fur would get in the way of all the cardiovascular and nervous system hookups anyhow.”

“So you’re naked inside another pony, basically?” Title asks with a smirk.

Sighing, Cure shakes his enormous head. “We already did those jokes, ma. Okay, I think I’m ready to try standing, or at least sitting up.”

Slowly, Cure gets his forehooves under him and carefully pushes himself up, sitting on his haunches instead. He repeats the process with his hind legs, rising to all four, then slowly extends one gigantic wing, then the other, then gingerly moves his neck around before looking over his withers and giving his tail a swish.

“How’s it goin, honey?”

“Really, not bad,” he says, slowly walking in a small circle. “I’ll have to do some physical therapy, basically, to make sure I can move right, but overall it’s not that different from moving around as a small colt.”

“Your cutie mark came through. Or did you do that yourself?”

“Really?” he asks, turning to look. Sure enough the rod and snake are right there on his flanks. “Nope. I can’t say I’m all that surprised though. Like I said, this is me, for all intents and purposes. I guess that’s just verification, though, which isn’t bad to have. Look, it’s scaled bigger too.”

“I noticed.”

“Stop starin at my flanks, ma, yer makin it weird.”

“Oh shut up. It shrank a bit when you changed it from a plant, but you’re fucking huge. You realize that right?”

“Yeah, it’s a good thing I didn’t go with the princess sized horn. I would have probably already jammed it through the ceiling once or twice.” Cure retracts the horn so he doesn’t accidentally do exactly that. He can easily touch the ceiling with his snout alone.

“You’re bigger than she was, I think. Is. You know what I mean.”

“Yeah, I think I’m about a hoof taller, and definitely a hoof or two wider. Dunno, didn’t scan her. I also only saw her for about a minute at full size, but I did notice she was on the leaner side of what a big earth pony should be.”

“Your muscles are much larger too.”

“Yeah, I know y’all said she was always an alicorn, but I still suspect she was either a unicorn or, because she didn’t get a lot of opportunities to work out, she ended up slimmer. Or, I guess, maybe it’s just because she’s a mare. This is much more along the lines of what I would expect an earth pony stallion to look like at this size. Based on what I saw of that dude at the rodeo, at least.”

“True. I’ve only seen a few of them and you’re about their same size. You may be a smidge taller, but it’s hard to say. You’re at the upper end of muscular for them, though. They’re already so strong they don’t get a lot of opportunities to really push themselves, I bet.”

“Is this too much?”

“Nah, it’s a good look. I mean, it would be if I was like six hooves taller, I guess. It’s a little intimidating, but that’s just because you’re so much larger.”

“Hey ya know what… I hadn’t even considered something.” Cure extends his horn out and casts the Reduce spell, and in a flash, shrinks down to the same size as his sire before he started helping the stallion grow. “How’s that look… wait, what the hell?” he finishes in a mumble.

“Looks good. What’s wrong?”

“Okay, magic is bullshit. How’s this even work?”

“What?”

“I didn’t think about it when she used the spell, but how the hay am I breathing? And she ate while shrank… did that food just suddenly grow with her when she unshrank? I wonder if that’s what the maintenance part of the spell is doing…” he says, trailing off in thought.

“She went back to normal size only a little after eating, honey. I would assume it remained the same size.”

“Frick that, I’m testing this,” he says, carefully walking to the kitchen. Title hears the fridge open and close, then Cure walks out with a carrot floating in front of him, already half eaten. “As far as I understand it, you should not, under any circumstances, be able to ‘Reduce’ an oxygen molecule, but if it’s following the same rules as the carrot then that’s exactly what’s happening.”

“What’s that mean?”

“You can power the spell two ways. One is constant magic use; a small trickle. The other is to dump a bunch in, which will ‘tie off’ the spell. That’s useful for when you’re casting it on somepony else and want it to last a while. I’m obviously doing the former since my magic pool sucks.”

“Okay. And?”

“And some part of that magic is going towards shrinking whatever is ingested.”

“That’s interesting. What happens if you cast it on somepony and they eat too much for the spell to convert everything?”

He answers with a shrug. “Dunno, I guess they unshrink and whatever they were eating stays normal size?”

“That could be catastrophic if somepony runs out of magic while enlarged instead of shrunk.”

“Oh yeah, absolutely. If somepony drank a bunch of water while enlarged and then shrank back they could probably pop internal organs like a balloon.” Let’s not even mention a shrunken bullet expanding a few seconds after being fired...

“Yeah, don’t do that. Also, shouldn’t you be taller? I mean… when she used the spell she was still taller than your sire.”

“It’s variable. I used a half, she a third reduction, roughly. It’s volume based, or mass based. Not sure,” he says with a shrug.

“Ego?”

“Dunno. Probably not. It would probably weird ponies out more if she was their size rather than being bigger.”

“Eh, I suppose.”

“This kinda solves the whole ‘everypony freaking out over an alicorn’ problem though.”

“How long does that spell last if you ‘tie it off?’”

“Also variable. If I did a scroll or the mid-high gem I could have it last a few hours. It would use a lot of ink, though. I think my best bet would be to put it in the mid-high then replace the enchantment with teleport and charge it slowly over time. I wouldn’t run the risk of getting distracted and having it slip, or have to pay attention while using my talent. My magic regeneration is about six times as fast now as it was before.”

“So you go from empty to full in four or five minutes?”

“Yep, thereabouts. It would still take me about forty five minutes to fully recharge the mid-high, but I could do that while flying. The important part is that, while I do look like a pegacorn, the shrink spell took care of the bulkiness and nopony is going to instantly think I’m an alicorn.”

“Nah, probably not. It was the height that was the main issue. You could probably just walk around like this, though you’ll wanna do something about your cutie mark.”

“Right,” he agrees. He’d made the coat brown, so that didn’t need to change. He uses his normal trick to cover the cutie mark. Instead of the rod and snake he goes with another mark, something he’d seen at several Celtic festivals over the years; an intricate tree, surrounded in a circle of vines.

Cure looks thoughtful for a moment. “Huh, I just realized something.” At his mom’s curious look he explains, “Well, I would need even more mass, but if I used the Reduce spell I could actually do a human, or other bipedal, shaped body. It would have to be pretty large for me to fit in the abdomen, but if it’s like… ten, twelve feet, err, three or four meters tall before I shrink it by half, that would work.”

“Can a unicorn tell you’re using the shrink spell?”

“Not passively, but if they scanned me, yes. Or if they see me cast it, of course. Once it’s cast it would be like how we use magic; all at and below the skin. There’s nothing happening outside the body.”

“Well, food for thought. Just keep in mind that if the princess hears about a human walking around that’s going to draw some attention, and if she happened to come out to investigate and finds you? You’re going to have some serious explaining to do.”

“Oof, yeah. That would be awkward. Nah, I think I’ll go with the pegacorn thing.”

“That’s probably best, honey. The cutie mark is interesting. Neat design,” she comments.

“I always thought so,” he agrees. “There’s just one more thing to do and I think I’m done for the night,” he says.

“Yeah?”

“Mmhmm,” he nods, then walks over right next to Title on the opposite side from his sister and, while lightening himself enough to not crush her, lays across her withers, a foreleg on each side of her neck. The wings soon follow and, despite herself, Title lets out a contented sigh while wrapped in a warm, feathery hug. “Love you, ma,” he says, nuzzling the side of her neck and giving her cheek a kiss. “I’m sorry for growlin at ya.”

“Oh, honey, don’t worry about that,” she warmly replies, leaning up to return the affection. “I love you too.”

The three sit, Cure snuggled on top of his mom, covering the other two with his large wings. “So… bedtime?” he asks.

With a mischievous smile she shakes her head no. “Oh no. Not for a few minutes. We need to make some plans for the morning, first.”

Tuesday, February 17th, 909 AB (the next morning)

Quiet talking roused Vines from her sleep. She still felt a little out of it, but that’s just what happens when somepony goes to bed too early. Too much sleep is just as bad as too little, she supposes. She carefully climbs out of bed and makes her way to the bathroom, careful not to wake her husband.

Title isn’t in the room and Savvy’s crib is empty, so she must already be downstairs talking to Cure. Either that or Lemon and Amethyst have come by, but she doesn’t smell or hear anypony, and the girls usually aren’t the best at staying quiet first thing in the morning.

After taking care of the immediate issues she makes her way towards the stairs. Reaching the bottom, she starts turning to the kitchen to get breakfast started, then comes to a complete stop. Slowly turning back towards the living room she blinks a few times to make sure she’s not hallucinating.

“Hey, dam. Good morning,” the enormous alicorn stallion calls, giving her a sheepish smile and a cheeky wave.

“Cure?” she slowly asks, approaching cautiously.

“Yeah, so… good news and bad,” he starts. “Umm, good news first? We’re both okay. Bad news? You really gotta be careful with time spells.”

“Time spells?” she asks. From the other side of, presumably, her son, her wife stands up. What Vines sees freezes her blood in her veins. Instead of the radiant, youthful pink beauty, before her stands a mare that has to be at least sixty years old. Gray fur shows through in streaks all throughout her coat, mane, and tail.

“Sweet Celestia, Vines, babe, you’re a sight for sore eyes,” she says in an aged voice. “You’re not gonna believe what your son did!”

Gravity seemed to go sideways on the green mare, and the last thing she recalls is the face of her worried son as everything fades to black.

“Dam? You okay? Jeez, can’t pull a friggin prank in this house without somepony losin their shit.”

“Good catch, Cure. Umm… the twins are alright, right?”

“Yeah, first thing I checked, ma.”

“Got a Sound Bubble up?”

“Yeah, I don’t want her screamin and waking dad up. Not until we’re ready,” he adds mischievously.

Cure leans over and nuzzles his dam, gently poking at her cheek with his snout. “Daaaam? Wakey wakey. We’re just messing with you, Mrs. Spreading Vines. It’s time to wake uuuuup,” he sings.

“Hrm?”

“Oh. Whew. Thank Harmony. You okay there, dam?”

“CURE!” she hollers, launching herself at him and wrapping her forelegs around his neck. “What happened?!” she cries, literally, with tears streaming down her face.

“Dam, settle down, nothing happened! It’s a suit! I’m inside of this suit!” he assures her, bodily lifting her and setting her on a mat. “Look, I made like… basically, a fully enclosed suit, I’m actually right here curled up puppeting the thing,” he says, poking at the side of the barrel. “I’m inside all of this,” he reiterates, waving at the whole thing. “And no, nothing weird happened. I’m still just me in here.”

“Title!” she shouts, snapping her focus to her wife.

“I just gave her some gray patches and we changed her voice a bit.”

“Yeah, babe, I’m right here. I’m fine, settle down.”

“You… I CAN’T BELIEVE YOU TWO! I thought you were OLD! How is all THIS even possible?” she yells, poking a hoof against Cure’s huge chest.

“Eh, long story. We probably don’t have much time before dad comes down, though, and we wanted to get him too. Besides, you’ve seen me deage plenty of ponies by now… didn’t you stop and think ‘Why does Title have gray hair?’ at some point?”

“I… was caught off guard,” she defensively insists. “Don’t you try to blame me!” she shouts, jabbing him again.

“Alright, long story super short, if I eat something it becomes part of ‘me’ after I digest it, so I ate a buncha wood like a big damn termite, then used all that to make this suit. Since it’s all me it takes almost no magic to change it, and since it’s jam-packed full of hybrid cells my magic regeneration is about six times what it normally is.”

“Oh. Well… on one hoof that is amazing, sweetie. On the other, you are grounded!”

“Grounded from what? School?”

“No, from hanging out with your friends!”

“Really?”

Sighing, Vines shakes her head no. “I can’t believe you. You too!” she shouts, pointing an accusing hoof at Title. “You were in on it!”

“Eh, what’s the harm? You’re fine, the twins are fine, we’re all fine. Aren’t we Savvy, sweetheart?” she asks her daughter who briefly looks up from the ring she’s chewing on. “She seems fine,” she says, turning back to Vines with a smirk. “If we hurry and set up we can get Deed too!”

Vines chews her lip for a moment in consideration, looking between the two eager faces. “What are you planning?”

“Right here.” a slightly familiar sounding voice says. Deed isn’t exactly sure, but he thinks that’s the princess. Either that or Cure’s doing another impression of her. Either way he’s hungry and it sounds like it’s coming from the kitchen. Rushing back to the bathroom he double checks his mane and face, making sure he’s got all the eye boogers washed away, along with any residual crust they left behind.

He hears her again. “And just sign right here. Initial and date there.”

Confident he looks good enough, just in case, he quietly makes his way out of the bathroom and down the stairs.

“Perfect!” he hears the voice say. “Now, I am worried about being too rough, you’re sure he’ll be fine?” Deed freezes in his tracks at that. The princess being too rough does not sound like something anypony would want.

“Oh yeah, don’t worry about that,” Title assures her. “Cure toughened up his bones plenty. You can really grind away at him and he’ll be okay, no problem. Be as rough as you wanna.”

“Excellent! Normally I have to be so gentle, you see? I’ll never forget the first time I really cut loose. There was hardly anything left of the poor dear! It was so traumatic I didn’t look for a mate for nearly a century!”

Deed’s eyebrows shoot into his mane. He glances over his withers and wonders if he can make it back up the stairs quietly enough that they won’t hear.

“Oh you poor dear!” Vines cries. “It must have been really difficult for you.”

Difficult for her? he thinks. What about the stallion?!

“Oh yes, absolutely! And don’t even get me started on the whole size issue. Do you have any idea how annoying it is having to shrink yourself every time you’re in the mood just so you can even feel it?”

He slowly looks down at his stallion. It may be plenty for his ladies, but she’s a whole ‘nother story!

“Can’t say that I do, honestly,” Title sympathizes. “We’ll talk to Cure before we send Deed your way, though. He may have a hard time walkin right, but I can promise you he’ll otherwise be up to the challenge.”

“Wonderful! It’ll be the first time in so, so very long I can finally enjoy an estrus season. I’ll have to thank Cure again for his help.”

Yeah, thanks champ.

“Sure… babe?” she yells out. “I thought I heard him come down the stairs.”

“I think I did too,” Vines confirms. “Deed, sweetie? Come into the kitchen. We have a special guest here!”

Wincing, Deed slowly makes his way to the kitchen entrance and pokes his head around the corner. Sure enough, the princess is there in her full-sized glory, horn towering over his wives even though she’s laying on her barrel by the table on the side closest to him. Strangely, she’s not wearing either her crown or her peytral and her mane looks much more like a normal one, though the long, pink color is pretty.

“Well hello, Mister Saviour,” she salaciously greets him. “I have been sooo looking forward to seeing you again.”

“Uhh… greetings, your highness!” he calls, stepping fully into the kitchen and dropping into a bow.

“Oh, Mr. Deed. You don’t need to bow before me. In fact,” she says with a smirk, “If anything, I’ll be the one bowing before you.”

Slowly standing back up, he warily looks to his wives, both of whom are eagerly grinning. Savvy is sitting on a booster chair hugging on a plushie, but Cure isn’t in sight.

“We just finished the studding paperwork, honey,” Title happily explains. “Guess what… err… who you’ll be doing this season!”

“What?”

“That’s right, Mister Deed. Me and you,” she says, waving a hoof between them. “We’re gonna make sooo many babies!” she shouts, reaching back with a foreleg and rubbing at her tummy. “In fact… I can already feel my womb quivering in anticipation!” she yells, turning on her side and lifting a hind leg.

Sure enough, right there where her womb is, something moves under her skin, undulating and writhing under the surface as she stares at him hungrily. “Soooo many babies!” she croons in a bizarre, resonant voice while licking her chops with a too-long tongue.

Deed feels his heart almost leap right out of his throat. Prepared to run for his life, it suddenly clicks, again, that his son isn’t here. With an angry scowl, the stallion growls out, “COLT! Ya damn near gave me a heart attack!”

Vines and Title let out disappointed Aww’s and Cure, pouting, stops the gut-churning display and lays back on his barrel. “Too much?” he asks.

Deed approaches, looking him over while nodding. “Definitely. How are ya so big? Some kinda spell?”

Vines sighs and goes back to getting breakfast ready as Title moves the blank papers out of the way, grouching the whole time.

For the third time in a little over twelve hours, Cure begins his explanation, changing to his normal colors at the same time.

“Well, pa, it occurred to me that I never actually sat down and figured out when food stops being food and becomes ‘me’ for the purposes of my magic, so…”

Author's Note

Okay, so this is the first really, REALLY 'out there' thing that Cure has done, in my opinion. This right here is the kind of thing that could elevate him to an existential threat to the planet, assuming that there is, in fact, not an upper limit to it. Of course, it would take someone realizing that to raise the issue and, in this setting, I don't see that happening. After all, parasprites are a thing and, as far as I can tell, are little better than a grey goo scenario that's laughed off and ignored.

Regardless, he is aware of this potential and will likely hold the upscaled version as a nuclear option. Or for helpful projects where he plans on disconnecting once it's finished, maybe? Dunno. There's a lot of really useful things that could be done here.

With Ed's memories one of Cure's unstated biggest fears is what would happen if he made a second brain and the whole 'evil twin' scenario played out. Would the twin inherit the special talent? Identical twins can, canonically (the spa twins have identical marks), have the same talent, so presumably spawned duplicates can as well. It's the same with the Mirror Pool. He would avoid that at all costs. Of course, there's no reason to assume the twin would be evil.

A twin shouldn't be evil at all, but you still get a Replicator problem he's unwilling to test. There's not an ethical way to undo that action. The most likely outcome would be like something in Pokémon where all of the centers have the same nurse. Every clinic and hospital would have their own 'Dr. Cure' and travelers would be baffled when they walk in and say "Hey didn't I see you in Manehattan?" and he would do the whole "Nah, that's my brother. We have a big family!" routine.

As a purely biological creature, I can't come up with a logical reason why there would be an upper limit other than issues with organism sizes and neurological signal speed / loss things that could be addressed, possibly, in a few ways. That, of course, ignores things like the Ursa Major, which is an absolutely gargantuan. I cited the Minor early on in the story when I was talking about the impact of OP characters. In that specific instance I was pointing out how OP even early Twilight was. Here's a discussion about Ursa Major size.

I'm pretty sure Dragon Lord Torch is larger, but I don't feel like really looking into it. So obviously magical creatures have some way of dealing with the whole size issue that, if I recall correctly, larger dinosaurs had (T-Rex was NOT fast), not to mention the whole square cube thing which, apparently, elephants already break.

I dunno. Who knows? Maybe in the future he'll build a Megazord, Voltron thing and hop in it to fight the VotW.

... damn, that could be fun. Maybe he'll even have a chimp sidekick!

Chapter 54: Arbor Day

Sunday, March 1st, 909 AB (14 days later)

Solar looks down at the ecstatic colt, eyes wide in surprise. “Ready? Like totally ready?”

He’d barely made it off the train to Golden Hills before being accosted by the eager foal. Once greetings were exchanged they all started making their way to one of the few restaurants in town; the five parents following behind the two foals and young adults.

“You bet, dude! Both the Vaccine and the Antiviral tree are fully operational. Lemon ‘n Amy took ‘em on ahead. I rented their event room and got a buncha food plus a big ‘ol cake and ice cream. Everypony’s gonna meet us there. The buzzkills over there wouldn’t let me have an open bar, though. I think your parents have some kinda PTOBED.”

The older colt lets out a sigh. “I don’t even want to ask…”

“You don’t need to!” Cure chirps. In a sympathetic voice he explains, “Post Traumatic Open Bar Event Disorder. It’s a very sad condition that afflicts as many as two ponies that I’m aware of. I can’t help with that one, sadly.”

With a deadpan stare, Solar asks, “You don’t say?”

“Nah, it doesn’t seem that way. I tried to overwrite the memory sectors in yer sire’s head that fire when he thinks of that particular event, but for some reason it didn’t seem to work.” Cure glances towards the confused sergeant. “At least I was able to overwrite the traumatic memories from the experiments going wrong.”

Haze rolls his eyes, instantly dismissing the tease. “Very funny, Cure. I’m pretty sure I would remember…” he says, trailing off and suddenly looking alarmed.

Instead of responding, Cure just smirks over his withers at the stallion. Dawn can’t help but giggle at his stricken expression.

“Don’t pick on the sergeant, son. Ya know what I told ya.”

“Military ponies have no sense of humor?”

“Nah. Err, yeah, that too I reckon, but not what I meant.”

“Don’t joke about casually abusing my talent to mess with ponies’ heads?”

His sire nods while pointing a hoof in Cure’s direction. “Yep, that’s the one.”

Title nudges the still thinking sergeant with a shoulder. “You know he’s just teasing you, right?

“Uhh… are you sure? Is that something he could do?”

Shrugging lightly so as to not disturb Savvy, she can’t come up with a reason why he couldn’t. “I mean… probably? He never would though.” When the worried look doesn’t fade she rolls her eyes and reassures him. “He would never mess with anypony’s memories.” Glancing towards the colt she lets out a sigh. “Damnit, Cure, don’t joke about crap like that. You’re going to make him paranoid.”

“Jeez, sarge. Really?” he asks incredulously. “I’ve never tinkered with anypony’s brain. Well, not without their permission. And even then all I did was make some things controllable instead of autonomic. That’s kinda below the brain, anyhow. Oh, and when adjusting some visual cortices.” Cure pauses, then tilts his head in though. “Maybe during the foalbirths too, but that was under a doctor’s orders.”

He gets a few concerned looks and explains, “Some of the foals had something wrong, at least according to my talent. They got back to me on most, but a few had something they couldn’t identify. I figure it musta been a genetic disorder or something,” he finishes with a shrug. “Oh yeah, and I’ve helped a few ponies with headaches and migraines too. Most headaches originate in the neck, though.”

“Umm… is that everything?” Solar cautiously asks.

Starlight looks to her coltfriend, asking, “Is that a lot? It sounds like a lot more than ‘never.’”

“I suppose it’s more than I realized,” Cure concedes. “So maybe I have poked around an occasional noggin. Still, most of that under a doctor’s orders,” he insists.

“Cure?” Emerald calls, “What was that about autonomic functions?”

“He made it so we can feed Savvy easier,” Vines explains from Title’s other side. “It’s been very convenient being able to control milk production. This way I can help when Title is busy.”

“Stars I wish I’d had that option,” Emerald sighs. Looking unusually morose she confesses, “I couldn’t produce enough for either of my foals. We had to solicit a wet nurse both times until they were old enough for cow’s milk. Starlight, dear, if you intend to have foals I would strongly encourage you to consider that.”

“Huh… I haven’t scanned a cow yet. I should probably go to a farm and meet a few at some point.”

“That sounds like a good idea, Mrs. Aura,” Starlight agrees, then turns to the colt, “That is, if Cure doesn’t mind.” He quickly shoots the young mare a smile and a nod.

“I’ve heard they can be ornery,” Haze warns. Looking between Deed and Vines he asks, “You mentioned working on farms before, right?”

“My parents own a farm a ways to the northwest of town,” Vines admits. “Mostly wheat but I got my cutie mark growing fruits in the garden. There weren’t any cows living with us, but some lived on neighboring farms. They were very… forward with stallions,” she explains with a cringe.

“I don’t think they would be overly inappropriate given my age.” Cure looks at his sire, asking, “Did the ones on your aunt’s farm harass colts too?”

Deed shakes his head no while speaking up. “Nah, they won’t bother a colt at all. Don’t be surprised if they say somethin inappropriate though. They don’t always do the best at filterin themselves. They probably wouldn’t expect ya ta understand the innuendo you would.”

“Sounds like it could be a little awkward. I wonder if maybe there’s just not enough bulls taking care of their needs,” he says.

“Cure!” Vines scolds, despite the chuckles and giggles from everypony else, save Emerald, who gives him a mild scowl.

“What? We talk about there not being enough stallions all’a the time. If they have the same issue then what’s the problem with pointing out?”

“It seems... inappropriate, given your age, to discuss such things,” Emerald flatly explains.

Scoffing, Cure dismisses her argument. “Yeah, maybe if I hadn’t just spent three days helping mares give birth I could see that being the case, but... well,” he trails off shrugging, not sure what he can say that won’t come off as condescending or overly inappropriate given Dawn is right beside him.

“He’s right, dear,” Haze interrupts. “With a talent like his anypony would likely become... desensitized to most things biological. Besides, it very likely does at least play some part in their behavior if that is an unfulfilled need.”

Sighing in defeat, Emerald nods, conceding the point.

“So just out of curiosity, what is the bull to… heifer?” he tests the word, looking to his sire for confirmation. When Deed nods he continues, “Right, what’s the bull to heifer ratio? Is their gender ratio as unbalanced as ours? It seems a little unfair to me that we worry about one and casually ignore the other. They’re sapient citizens of Equestria too.”

“About the same as us,” Deed confirms. “I think they have it a little better, but it’s hard ta say. The bulls ain’t very sociable. You won’t usually see more ‘n one on a single farm or else they end up fightin each other.”

Curious more than alarmed, Cure asks, “Are they aggressive to ponies?”

“Nah, just curt and not very chatty.”

“Keep in mind, Cure,” Haze adds, “that since, as you say, they are sapient citizens, they are allowed to take advantage of government programs designed to assist in finding sires.”

Conversation dies down as the group makes their way the remaining short distance to the restaurant. Miller’s Diner is a casual family restaurant, similar to a Perkins or a IHOP, minus the breakfast focus, from Ed’s memories. Unlike the Berry Wood Kitchen in Baltimare, normal families could expect to dine without breaking the bank.

Cure much prefers it over the so-called fancier restaurant a town over because the food is a third the price, as good or better, the restaurant is well lit and looks nice both inside and out, and the decor didn’t remind him of tryhards going over the top with the southern theme. Starlight had recommended the place based on the food quality, price, and the fact that they had a large enough private dining room to accommodate everypony Cure invited.

The group is greeted by the hostess at the door and, upon seeing the dark coated party planner, immediately directs them to the private room.

Aside from the dining tables and the one with raised benches for foals there are two longer tables close to the wall at the far side of the room. On one side is a bench for foals or shorter pegasi to hop on to get food more easily. Cure, with advice from Starlight and the restaurant owner, had settled on a variety of dishes including potatoes au gratin, crispy eggplant slices, blackened tuna steaks, vegetable medley, a fruit platter, a bread tray, and a whole trough of salad.

Since most ponies are vegetarians the sole meat dish is off to the side. There’s a third smaller table with ice water, lemonade, and a few fruit drinks. Three servers are on hoof for sodas, to refill any food trays as they get low, get highchairs, or take care of whatever miscellaneous need that comes up.

Crosswind Drift, Glacial Breeze, Delta Coast, and Rising Pitch are already sitting at the foals’ table. Their families, along with Lemon, Amethyst, and their girls are at two of the four adult tables. The trees are on a rolling cart between the mares, covered with a blanket. Wind Shear and her coltfriend, Lightwing, along with another older pegasus filly are sitting at their own table.

Cure had briefly met Lightwing and his other fillyfriend one of the times he stopped by the Drift’s place since they started routinely flying together. He was disguised as his brown, blank flank, winged Riddle persona, though, so the pair are unaware he and the earth pony hosting the party are one in the same.

About five minutes later Heavy Lift and Ferric Shine arrive together with his family and her dam, then Sapphire Sprint, Midnight Gem, and Onyx Mark make their way in almost right on their tails.

After everypony gets seated Cure gives them all a few minutes to chat, then hops up from the foal’s table and trots to the front between the crowd and the food tables getting everypony’s attention with a whistle.

“Alright, everypony, if I could have your attention for just a few minutes, please, I promise I’ll make this short. I am, after all, standing between food and a hungry pink mare, so this isn’t exactly a safe place to be.”

A few of the ponies chuckle while his mom waves a threatening hoof in his direction. “Brat!”

Cure gives his mom a cheeky salute, then yells, “Love you too, ma! Okay, so, back at the beginning of September one of the biggest events in a pony’s life happened to me.” Several of the ponies give him knowing looks and nod along. “Yep, that’s right, of course, it was my first kiss and Heavy was a very gentle teacher.” He finishes blowing a kiss to the gray colt.

”WHAT?!”

The room erupts in laughter as Heavy’s ears shoot straight up and all the other foals poke at him teasingly. His sister’s fly around him making kissing noises until Spring Showers shoots them a warning glare and points by her side.

“Joking! I’m joking!” he insists, waving his hooves placatingly. “Sorry dude, gotta lead with a joke, ya know?” Cure can’t help but chuckle as his bud glares menacingly at him.

“Seriously, my folks and I were in the garden and, when I focused on a bruise I got a few days prior, lo and behold, the thing up and disappeared. Well I guess I traded one mark for another because right there on my flanks was a new addition.” Turning, slightly, Cure shows off his mark.

“It only took a moment for me to realize that, while my special talent is pretty unique, it’s also very dangerous. Similar to Sgt. Gleaming Haze over there,” he nods to the red unicorn, “who is the Guard medic, I found I could use magic to scan ponies. Like many special talents, though, mine goes beyond the basics. In addition to simply scanning I can use magic to heal or make changes, at least until I run out of magic, which doesn’t seem to take much.

“That second part probably sends a tinge of worry down your spine and, honestly, I don’t blame you. One of the first concerns we had was ‘Is this even legal?’ followed closely by ‘Will somepony come to take me away if they find out?’ Fortunately the answers are ‘Yes, sort of’ and ‘Not so far, thankfully.’

“Sort of because while the type of magic is restricted there’s an exception for when it’s a pony’s special talent. Not yet because while nopony has actually come along we did get an official visitor from the capital. This pony was delivering a message straight from Her Highness, and while She herself isn’t worried, concerns have been raised about my talent and what I may be doing with it.”

Sat on his haunches he taps a hoof on the other as if counting on fingers. “Volunteering at the clinic, helping my friends and our brave guardians get in fantastic shape-”

“Yeah! Check out the chests on the sarge and his son!” Thunder Dance shouts. To Starlight’s great joy, Solar stands up and flexes for the crowd, hamming it up and getting appreciative whistles from the laughing group.

“HAH! Right?” Cure agrees before continuing on, “And as only a few of you know, I also volunteered here and in the other suburbs around Baltimare when the birthing season hit, though I was disguised as a unicorn,” he admits.

“That was you?!” Berry shouts. “I thought that unicorn looked a little thick!”

Cure nods towards Heavy’s dam. “Guilty as charged, ma’am! They slapped a fake horn on me to help hide my identity. So clearly I’m just biding my time and will enact my dastardly plan to seize the throne any minute now.”

Cure pauses and looks around the room. Slowly, he takes his pocket watch out of the spatial bit purse he keeps tucked under his legpit, and melodramatically looks at it for a few seconds, then glances back up. “Aaaaaany minute now.” When a few ponies laugh he lightly shrugs and continues, “Naah, not feeling it. Maybe later,” he adds noncommittally, getting another round of chuckles.

“Of course reality is far less exciting than the comic books the ponies in the capital must be reading. Instead of dreaming up some nefarious plot, I sat down with my parents and talked about how I could do something useful. Something important. Something that could change the world. A very lovely mare next door provided the spark of inspiration, though I don’t recommend her method.”

He pauses and waves towards Amethyst before continuing. “The beautiful Amethyst Blossom caught some kinda nasty bug and had been laid up for days. Lemon, being the dutiful and loving wife that she is, had to stay home to help care for her and the girls. She couldn’t work at the same time, so she had to close her shop for almost the entire week, a necessary move that I’m sure didn’t do the family coffers any favors.”

“Damn right! Bucked us right in the bank account!” Lemon loudly agrees while Amethyst nods along.

“I’m sure it did. Mrs. Emerald Aura was kind enough to gather some statistics from the Baltimare Regional Health Authority for me. Across the nation every year somewhere between one hundred and twenty to one hundred and fifty thousand families are impacted by the flu virus alone. Several hundred ponies do not survive it. That doesn’t even factor the negative social and economic impact of less dangerous illnesses like the Feather Flu or the common cold.

“Though there is still a ways to go, those days could soon be over. With the help of my parents I have been developing two very special trees that, once they get approval, should significantly reduce the spread of and aid in the recovery from virtually any illness. It may be slightly premature, but with the help of the beautiful Miss Starlight Shine, I gathered you all, the families of my closest friends, to celebrate the completion of stage one of the project.

“Lemon, Amy, could one of you please bring ‘em up?”

Lemon hops up and pushes the cart around the table to the front of the room and stands by, waiting for the nod from Cure.

“Presenting the fully functional and ready-for-testing Vaccine Tree and Antiviral Tree, mark one point oh!” he shouts, waving to the trees.

Lemon pulls the sheet off, revealing the meter and a half tall trees, each with a pair of lightly glowing green vines wrapped around the trunk, dark, full canopies, and stems laden with cherry tomato sized fruits. The trunks are slightly more than hoof in diameter and, towards the bottom, have a siphon-like opening for sugar water to be poured in.

The Vaccine tree’s fruits are green. There’s a half hoof sized green shield with a white cross in the middle just below the canopy on the trunk indicating which type of tree it is.

The Cure tree’s fruits are blue instead, looking much like enlarged blueberries. The icon Cure went with for that tree is slightly more complex; a blue syringe stabbing into a green cartoonish viral cell.

Each tree has a roman numeral one on the opposite side of the trunk.

Cure continues, “For those of you traveling with us to see the Wonderbolts, we’re also going to be dropping these off with a contact of mine in the capital to get the testing process started. As with any new medicine or medical procedure they do require testing, so please don’t eat any of the fruit just yet. I’m confident they’re safe, but we gotta dot our i’s and cross our t’s before I start hoofin these out. Still, with a little luck, by this time next year days-long illnesses will be a thing of the past!”

Though several of the adults are clearly caught unprepared for the monumental announcement, everypony stomps or claps nonetheless.

“Thank you! Thank you all for coming today. Now I think that’s enough listening to me talk, so everypony head on up and help yourselves! Mind the tuna, folks. I asked for it to be a little on the spicy side! If anypony is curious about the trees, or anything else, feel free to come say hi. Dessert will be brought out in a little while too, so save some room, everypony!”

Speech done, Cure thanks Lemon for her help, watches as she moves the cart off to the side, then moves out of the way for everypony to start getting food.

When nopony immediately jumps up, Title happily makes her way over while loudly saying, “Y’all are too bashful to be first so really I’m just being helpful here.” Though Cure suspects an ulterior motive is her real reason, the move does break the ice and ponies start making their way up.

It takes a few minutes to get food since the foals’ table isn’t very close, but once he loads up his plate he gets back to the table and finds himself seated in the middle between Heavy and Dawn with Coast to Heavy’s right and Sapphire on Dawn’s left. Ferric is sitting across from her sister with Drift, Glacial, and Rising to her left.

Everypony is digging in, enjoying the delicious home cooking. Only the pegasi and Cure got a piece of fish and he finds it a little funny how Dawn leans slightly away every time he takes a bite. “I gotta see if they’ll give me their recipe. I made tuna a few times for my mom when she was getting cravings but this is a lot better than mine.”

“It’s so weird seeing an earth pony eat meat,” Glacial comments. “I thought that was only a pegasus thing.”

“It is,” Dawn assures her. “He’s just weird. And he can eat anything. I’ve watched him chew rocks up once.”

When everypony looks at him weird he defends, “I was trying to see if the enamel alternative I’d developed was tough enough. Enamel is a pain to work with.” With a proud, pearly white smile he confirms, “It was, by the way. I’ll probably have to do some long term experiments to be sure I have all my bases covered, though.”

“I can’t believe you said we kissed,” Heavy grouses, scowling at the blue colt.

Sapphire immediately starts singing, “Cure ‘n Heavy sittin in a tree!”

Dawn and Drift join in, the three singing together, “K I S S I N G.”

The table devolves into giggles as Heavy stammers and blushes. Cure wraps a foreleg around his friend and leans heavily against him while pulling him right to his side with a nuzzle. “Don’t let them shame our love! They only seek to break us apart out of sheer jealousy!”

“DUDE!”

“Oh settle down,” Cure says, releasing the other colt. “I’m just teasing, bro. The best thing to do is to just play along. I’m pretty sure nopony seriously believes we kissed.”

“Better not,” Heavy grumbles, viciously stabbing a cheesy potato before cramming it in his mouth.

“Your speech was really good, Cure,” Ferric softly compliments. “I don’t know how you can talk in front of everypony like that.”

“Thanks, Red. There’s a trick to it that I think helps.” He takes a big bite and slowly chews. Most keep eating but Drift and Coast impatiently stare, waiting for him to elaborate.

The dark pegasus runs out of patience first, surprising nopony. With a scowl she asks, “Well? What is it?”

“Hats,” he answers unhelpfully. When she keeps scowling he rolls his eyes and explains. “You know those silly hats that used to be in style with big, fake feathers and a whole bunch of dumb crap on ‘em? Just imagine everypony in those and all the sudden you’re the only pony in the room that shouldn’t be embarrassed.”

“That’s dumb,” Coast dismissively argues. “There’s no way it works.”

Rising disagrees with her friend. “I’ve heard something like that. Dam told me some ponies imagine everypony in the room wearing silly clothes or pajamas. It’s supposed to help you feel like everypony in the room is your equal.”

“There’s other strategies like that,” Cure agrees, “but ultimately you only get better the same way as anything else. Practice.”

“I’m not sure I can do that,” the shy filly admits.

“Aww, you’re just the strong, silent type, sissy! Just tell me whatchya wanna say. I don’t mind talkin!”

Rising sets her drink down and looks across the table. “Will those really do what you said? Nopony will get sick anymore?”

“That’s, unfortunately, not exactly right. Ponies still will get sick, but if they have access to the antiviral tree they can cough, spit, or blow on it. Or of it’s a bloodborne virus they can get a sample with a syringe. The leaves will absorb the sample and analyze any viruses present, then make an effective antiviral agent to counter the exact strain they have.

“Most medicine you buy in stores really only treats the symptoms of a cold. You know what I mean? It’ll help with the runny nose or the fever, but it doesn’t directly treat whatever’s makin ya sick. The antiviral cells in the fruit will kill the virus itself. Quite aggressively, I might add.

“Of course that means you won’t infect anypony else and, as a precaution, you can take a couple extra fruits with you to give to anypony that might have been exposed already. At least, that’s the idea. Of course they need testing before they’re ready to be distributed.

“Anytime a new medicine or treatment is developed it has to be tested to identify side effects. Also, they need to determine how many fruits are an effective dosage and whether it’s possible to overdose. I have about two months to refine them and try to put additional safeties in place, though.

“If there’s any kind of outbreak the Regional Health Authorities could do the same thing with the Vaccine trees, then deliver fruits to other cities by pegasus courier. Anypony that’s vaccinated will be either immune or, at least, far more resilient against whatever is spreading. That would nip a potential outbreak in the bud, hopefully. I dunno, I’ll defer to the experts on how to best utilize ‘em.”

“He also needs to put together a care manual and some other paperwork for when he drops them off,” Dawn reminds him.

With a great sigh he nods in agreement. “Yay. Paperwork,” he deadpans.

Heavy nudges Cure with his left shoulder and asks, “How long are we staying in Canterlot?”

“The train leaves Baltimare the night of April 29th. That’s a Wednesday. We’ll be in Canterlot Thursday morning, probably need a nap, then I do my tree presentation that night and we’ll have a private, fancy dinner. The show is Friday afternoon and the train back leaves Sunday morning, so we’ll have all day Saturday to do whatever. Got any idea what y’all wanna do?”

Rising perks up first. “I want to go to the opera house. I hear they do tours. I’ve never been to one before.”

“That sounds neat,” Coast agrees. “I’ll come with you.”

Dawn nods along. “That could be neat. Cure, would one of your moms mind taking us?”

“Dunno. We’ll hafta ask. Probably,” he answers with a shrug.

“We’re gonna join in some of the junior flyers races,” Drift excitedly says. Glacial is nodding along as she continues, “I wanna practice as much as possible with those wings and see if I can win a few! They have all kinda stuff the days before and after Wonderbolt shows. Maybe we can even meet some of them!”

“That sounds awesome,” Cure cheers. “Just come by my house whenever you wanna practice, ladies. Even if I can’t join ya I can still hook ya up.” Pausing in thought he adds, “I wonder if I can tinker with the joints and muscles a bit and make it so you can kinda change your own wing configuration slightly…”

The suggestion nearly causes both fillies’ wings to pop straight in the air, drawing a heckle from Wind Shear a table over. The two quickly get themselves back under control, both giving him pleading looks.

“I’ll see what I can come up with, don’t worry. It won’t be as significant of a change as I do, but I suspect I can come up with something. As for my plans, I’ll probably go to the main shopping area and see if I can find any good books on enchanting or whatever. Maybe some magic guides. I would like to go to the library and find some big spell tome to memorize, but I don’t know if that would be publicly available.”

“Didn’t you say you had a magic tutor?” Heavy asks.

“I do, kind of. She’s sending me stuff every so often. The first few books are mostly elementary stuff, but there’s some interesting material in them. I’d like to figure out how to make my own spells but that’s looking more complicated than I expected. So far what she sent is fascinating, but not directly helpful there. Her letter said she’d send me my next ‘set’ in a few months, so… we’ll see.”

Dawn comments, “It is still interesting, though. The shaping exercises are exhausting.”

Cure nods in agreement, explaining, “Yep. There’s… a lot that I didn’t know that I didn’t know, especially about control and shaping. I’m starting to suspect the whole runic system is just the tip of the iceberg; something for entry level magic users to be able to do some basic stuff. Still, I’m starting to understand why they wait until foals are ten. At our, especially my, magic capacities we run out after just a few exercises.”

“Magic sounds confusing,” Sapphire says with a shrug. “I’m glad we don’t have to learn that junk.”

Cure can’t help but roll his eyes at the ignorant statement. If anything, having the opportunity to learn is an enormous privilege. Unicorns truly have opportunities that nopony else does and it’s more than a little frustrating that so very few ever come close to realizing their potential.

“What’s shaping, dude? I thought you already knew plenty about magic.”

“It’s complicated and confusing,” Cure starts.

Dawn cuts in explaining, “Basically, unicorns can use magic externally, right?” When Heavy nods she continues, “Aside from the quick, easier casting method-”

“Runes,” Cure interrupts briefly, “the horn vibrates in specific ways to form runes harmonically like a musical instrument. Sorry for interrupting,” he says, waving back to Dawn to continue.

“Right, so we can also shape magic externally. It’s hard to explain without being able to feel it, though.”

“It’ll lead to circles and stuff is my bet,” Cure grumbles as he takes a bite. “I’ve heard of magic circles and geometric shapes having different effects, but I’m not willing to start experimenting since I have no idea what could happen. Right now it’s just a matter of controlling the magic once it leaves the horn before you can ever get started actually shaping it. It sucks. I really just wanted to learn how to make new spells,” he finishes in a whine.

“I’ve always heard making new spells or changing them is dangerous,” Glacial points out.

“Yeah, you know, that’s the thing… everypony knows it’s dangerous, right?” When several of the foals nod he asks, “Why? What can actually go wrong? Like… are we talking you shoot an ice bolt instead of a fire bolt? I’ve looked at those two spells, there’s not one rune that would change that.”

“I dunno, Cure, but don’t do anything without anypony else around,” Dawn urges. “If everypony keeps saying it’s dangerous there’s probably a good reason.”

“There may be,” he agrees, “or maybe they just say that so nopony will experiment and figure out something they don’t want everypony to know. It’s just really weird, ya know? If I say ‘Don’t go into the woods, it’s dangerous!’ then the first thing you’ll ask is ‘Why? What’s dangerous about it?’

“Anypony with any sense would say ‘There’s X out there, here’s what you have to watch out for.’ With magic nopony explains what can happen. It’s just ‘dangerous’ without any clarification on why aside from some anecdotes of things that have gone wrong with no explanation of how or why it happened.”

Drift lets out a groan, “Here we go with the conspiracy theories.”

“He had some good points on the Nightmare Moon one,” Glacial reminds her. “You even thought so.”

“Yeah,” Drift argues, “but still, he thinks everything is some big government cover-up. Next thing you know he’ll be saying the princess doesn’t raise the sun or something.”

“I’m pretty sure she does,” he disagrees teasingly.

“Pretty sure?” Sapphire asks. “What do you mean by pretty sure?”

“I mean, I have questions about how the whole sun thing works, but I know she plays a part in it somehow. Like… is she literally nudging it along all day long? What about when it’s on the other side of the planet? Is she still moving it along while she sleeps?” he asks. “It’s not that I doubt she moves the sun, I’m just curious how it works.”

“Well that’s something,” Coast teases. “At least you can admit Her Highness, who has a huge sun cutie mark, does actually do something with the sun.”

Sapphire grins at the blue filly. “Did Coast just say the princess has big flanks?” she wonders aloud.

As Coast stammers out a response Cure mentions, “Cutie mark size does scale with flank size, and relatively speaking the princess is huge. She’s like one and a half times as big as your sire, Saph.”

“When did you see the princess?” Ferric asks.

“She stopped by, flirted with my sire a bit, joined us for dinner, then we had a snuggle pile in the living room and just chilled out for a while, shot the breeze.” Dawn, Glacial, Rising, Coast, and Drift all freeze on the spot. “Gotta give the lady credit, she’s got a nice, warm coat. She said she thought I smelled good too. She was totally diggin me,” he nonchalantly explains, scooping up another bite of his meal.

“Uh huh,” Heavy nods along. “I’m sure, Cure. Maybe we can stop by and visit her when we go to the show too.”

“Oh yeah, even better,” Cure teases, “We’re staying at the castle the whole time we’re there. She totally said I could crash at her place whenever. You know how it is when you’re hangin with a big shot like me.” He finishes with a wink and takes another big bite of food, slowly chewing while smirking at his friend.

Ferric and Sapphire look critically between the other fillies and Cure. He just smiles smugly at everypony until, eventually, they all go back to eating. “I wouldn’t mind taking a tour of the castle,” the shy filly admits. “It’s a shame I can’t see the barracks and stuff, too. I would love to have a chance to meet their smiths.”

“Do they have some kind of internship program?” Dawn asks. “The guard has to get their smiths from somewhere, after all.”

“It’s a position in the guard you can apply to after you pass basic,” she explains. “I plan on enlisting when I turn fifteen, but that’s a long way off.”

Drift nudges the red filly with her right shoulder. “You know basic is going to be a breeze for you, right? Stars, I bet you could get through it right now, even.”

She nods in agreement, “Maybe. Definitely by the time I’m old enough. I still wouldn’t mind asking your brother,” she looks to Dawn opposite and slightly to her left, “what it’s like. How’s he doing?”

“He says it’s a joke compared to what he expected,” Dawn admits. “Of course, not everypony has a biomanipulator as a trainer, so it’s not exactly fair to compare his experience to everypony else. He mentioned he has more difficulty on some of the unicorn only stuff, though.”

Coast leans forward and looks around the colts. “Why? You both seem ridiculously good at casting stuff.”

“For the actual spellcasting he’s fine. It’s the moving of things like blades with levitation. He didn’t practice that stuff as much. That probably won’t be a problem, though. He wants to go into the Artillery course and those unicorns will never be on the front line.”

“He should practice hoof to hoof too, though,” Ferric argues. “You never know when somepony may get in your face.”

Cure perks up at that, pointing an empty fork to Ferric while nodding. “My great grandsire has an artillery mage and that’s exactly what happened to him. It ended his career. The griffon that jumped on him jacked his knee up pretty bad. Gave him some wicked scars too.”

“Did you heal him?” Rising asks.

“Yep, he still works for Grandpa Brick. He’s where I got a bunch of spells from as thanks.” He glances at the filly and adds, “He wanted to keep the scars, though… said the mares dig ‘em. Whatta think, RP?” he asks, waving a hoof over the left side of his face and replicating three, long, talon-like scars going up his snout with the center one skipping over his eye. He leans forward and looks left and right to show off.

Drift gives an approving nod. “Huh… those do make ya look like a hardflank. You need some on your chest too.”

“I dunno, Cure,” Rising hesitantly answers. “If ya got scars doesn’t that mean you got your plot kicked?”

Scoffing, he waves a hoof. “You shoulda seen the griff that did this. Bucked ‘em so hard his head spun around. Twice.”

Glacial looks horrified for a second, then thoughtful. “I don’t think… wait, can their heads do that?”

Nodding, Cure answers, “If ya hit ‘em juuuust right. Ponies can do it too, though, so it’s not just a griffon thing, see, watch,” he says, setting his fork down and putting his hooves on either side of his head.

Dawn jabs a hoof right in his left legpit. “You are NOT demonstrating that.”

He pouts at the orange filly, grabs his fork, and pokes at his plate. “I never get to show off my tricks.”

Coast blows out a relieved sigh. “I think we’re all fine without seeing any of your tricks, Cure.”

“Bah. Y’all are wusses, just like my parents.”

“I’d like to see one,” Drift says, waving away the round of “NO!”s from the other fillies. “He’s right, you are all wusses.” She gives Cure a challenging look. “Do your worst, Mr. Big Shot.”

“Oh? My worst?” he chuckles, then shakes his head no. “Nah, you definitely don’t want that. I need something small. Let’s see… I know!” he shouts. Everypony but Drift, Sapphire, and Heavy turn away, covering their eyes. “I call this ‘Now I see you, Now I don’t.’” Smiling at the filly he leans forward on the table saying, “Now I see you…” he widens his eyes comically.

Drift stares into the light brown eyes of the colt, waiting for something to happen. “Wait,” she says, “shouldn’t that be now you see me-” she doesn’t finish before Cure reaches up with both hooves and plucks his eyeballs right out of his head, leaving her frozen, gaping open-mouthed and wide-eyed staring at the empty sockets.

“And now I don’t!” he shouts, laughing, then closes his eyelids.

Heavy recoils so hard he almost knocks Coast over. “Duuuude… What the hay?!”

Sapphire, on the other side of Dawn, is laughing and clapping her hooves. “WOOO! That’s awesome!”

He leans forward and turns to the filly smiling proudly. “Thanks, Saph! Glad somepony appreciates my show.”

“I’m not looking!” Ferric yells, eyes still covered with her forelegs.

“I think I’m gonna be sick,” Drift whines.

“Told you,” he smugly says. “Wuss. Don’t worry, Drift, I’ll put ‘em back good as new.”

“Please do,” she starts, then stops when he tosses them in his mouth and, with a horrifying crunch and exaggerated swallow, opens his eyelids back up to show off his eyes, back, good as new.

“Ta daa!” he shouts, waving his forelegs over his head.

“Is he done?” Dawn asks.

Glacial dares to peek around a hoof. “I think so… Drift?” she asks, poking the frozen pegasus. “Umm, I think you broke her.”

“She’ll be fine. Who wants dessert? I could go for,” he leans over the table towards Drift, “some chocolate eyes-cream!” and barks out a laugh.

Ferric yelps as the purple filly falls limply against her.

“Like I said, wusses… all of ya. ‘Cept Saph, I guess.” He leans forward to look around Dawn and gives her a big smile. “Way to hang in there, double S. I swear, I can’t do anything fun without some wimp passin out on me.”

“Hey champ,” his sire calls, approaching the foal’s table. He pauses and looks at the purple filly, then scowls at the colt. “What’d you do?”

“Why are you assumin I did anything?” Cure innocently asks.

The stallion shakes his head refocusing, lets out a sigh, and waves back over towards the adult table. “Did you do somethin with yer plants? They ain’t on the cart.”

Cure pauses mid-bite and turns fully to his sire. “What?”

Shrugging, Deed reiterates, “They ain’t in there. They were there. We got up to get food, then somepony realized the plants were gone.”

“They’re a half meter taller than me! How the hay did they just up and disappear?!”

“No clue, son. Haze thinks maybe somepony used an illusion or invisibility so nopony noticed ‘till they were gone.”

“I didn’t feel anypony casting anything,” Dawn comments, “but I wasn’t really paying attention either.”

“That’s what yer parents and brother said too, Dawn girl. That and they were away from the table gettin food.”

The group watches as Cure’s face goes from confused to murderous, then thoughtful, and finally, resigned. “That’s inconvenient. Good thing I haven’t set it up to make clones yet.” Cure looks over to the table with the sergeant and finds him standing by Drift’s parents, looking towards him questioningly. Cure gives him a shrug and a no head shake and watches as he says something to the pegasi. All three quickly dart out of the room.

“I’ll be right back,” he calmly says, making his way over to the cart. After discreetly sniffing around a little he can’t pick out anything too unusual. There is the scent of a pony he doesn’t recognize, so he follows it. It leads just outside of the private room to the bathrooms where it simply disappears; likely due to a teleport.

He knows he could probably start running in circles around the building and pick up the trail, but it’s equally possible the unicorn teleported more than once, and he can easily grow replacements. Pissed off that somepony dared to steal from him, he quickly runs out of the restaurant and does a single loop around the building, just in case, finding nothing.

With a disappointed sigh he makes his way back in, finding his sire quietly chatting with the foals, waiting for his return. Keeping his face as neutral as possible he retakes his seat and explains that he couldn’t find any sign of them.

“I’m amazed you’re taking this so calmly,” Dawn observes. “I thought you’d flip out.” Unsurprisingly, the other foals nod in agreement.

“The colt can make another, Dawn girl. It ain’t a big deal.”

“Yeah, basically,” Cure agrees. “Still, we worked on those for months. My parents and I spent, probably, hundreds of hours on them. I’m pissed but it’s the design that’s really important. I could make another in ten minutes now.”

“I’ll go talk ta the manager. Maybe there’s somepony that left work in a hurry.”

“I’m betting that’s where they,” he nods to the vacated guards’ seats, “went first, but I’m thinking somepony teleported from the restroom. I could smell the plants go that way, then the scent just disappeared.” Cure unconsciously shifts from side to side while looking around. “Well, don’t tell anypony else. Let’s enjoy the party anyhow, I guess.

“We’ll have to ask Sgt. Bulwark if he wants to burn a letter. I’m pretty sure they’re safe, but if something goes wrong with one of those plants I don’t want anypony trying to blame us. I’m kinda relieved we have three guards here to witness everything.”

“Burn a letter?” Coast asks.

“Dragon fire,” Ferric explains. “Probably to whoever he was gonna take the plants to.” She turns to Cure and asks, “That’s only for the military though. Were you taking ‘em to some kind of general or something?”

“Close enough, yeah. Well if the sergeant recovers them that’s great. If not then we’ll just make new ones, pa. Let’s not spoil the occasion.”

“You bet, champ. I’ll go tell yer ma’s.”

Cure calls back a quick “Alright” as his sire walks away. Eating at the table has come to a standstill, mostly, with the other foals all looking to Cure to see how he reacts. He looks over the table, finally focusing on the now awake and quietly staring Drift. “So Drift… you said something earlier about conspiracies?” he teasingly asks.

She lets out a sigh, slowly nods, and says, “Great… now he’s going to be even more crazy.”

“How many ponies even knew about this?” Rising asks. “Everypony here is somepony you know… do you think somepony just up and decided to steal your plants? What are they even worth?”

“Nothing if he can just make more,” Coast answers.

“I bet nopony knows that though,” Glacial points out. “It took months to make them. I bet they don’t know you can just make another. Does anypony know it’s easy for you to make another?”

“Good point, Glacial,” he agrees. “And no, not really. I keep details about my talent pretty quiet. If you could all do me a huge favor, please keep that to yourselves. I wanna see if those suddenly turn up somewhere. I don’t think whoever took those trees wanted them for decorations. As for who knew about them?” He pauses in thought before answering. “A few of you, Dawn’s family, and anypony that read her sire’s report about me. Star helped plan the party, but not the purpose of it.”

Cure glances in his sire’s direction and Sends him a message. << Don’t tell anypony I can make more plants, dad. Let them think we have to start over from scratch. >>

<< Good idea, son. I’ll let the mares know too. >>

A round of nods and agreements goes around the table as the foals go back to eating. Once everypony has their fill and the food is cleared away. The three guards return empty hoofed; Drift’s parents return to their seats but Haze approaches the group.

Standing at the end of the table by Ferric and Sapphire he looks to the colt apologetically. “I’m sorry, Cure, but the only thing anypony seems to have noticed was an off-white unicorn stallion with a darker brown mane walking towards the room. Nopony paid attention to his cutie mark, unfortunately. Of course he could easily have been in disguise regardless.”

“I’m assuming somepony is watching the train?”

“Yes, of course. Those Sending crystals are helping immensely for coordination. I alerted Staff Sergeant Bulwark and he sent out a description of our uninvited guest. So far no luck, though.”

“Well, worry about it later, sarge. They’re bringing out the dessert soon. Nothin much to do right now but enjoy. Thanks for trying to find ‘em, though.”

“Hmm. Yes, that sounds good, Cure. I must say, I half expected you to go charging out there, searching for the perpetrator. I’m relieved to see you acting so maturely. I certainly was not looking forward to seeing what kind of mayhem you could cause. I imagine it would have involved jumping on somepony’s back and hissing, though.”

“Dunno what ya mean, sarge. I would never do such a thing.” Nearly every foal at the table barks out a laugh with only Ferric and Rising remaining quiet, though the yellow filly still looks like she almost let one slip. Cure scowls at the group, muttering under his breath, “A third time, I meant.” More loudly he adds, “I would come up with something new. Variety, spice of life, etcetera,” he trails off, rolling his hoof.

“Well,” Haze hesitates, “be that as it may, if we hear any updates I’ll be sure to tell you.”

“Okay. Oh, hey sarge?” he asks just as the unicorn had started turning to walk away.

“Yes?” he asks, facing back to Cure.

“When me and Star planned this, was there anypony else made aware that they were ready to go?”

Nodding, Haze explains, “Yes. I was ordered to inform…” he pauses, looking at the foals, “your contact when they were ready, should you share that with me. I sent a message about ten days ago about the party.”

“Okay, well after we’re done here I would like to file an official statement with the guard saying that, should the trees not be recovered, it will be several months before we can develop replacements. I think it would be wise to contact the pony in the capital I was going to so they are aware of the situation.”

“Several months? I thought…” Haze pauses as it dawns on him what Cure is saying. “Ahh, I see. Yes, a good idea. I’ll ensure it goes through the proper channels as soon as possible. I’ll speak to Bulwark about sending a message as well.”

With a firm nod and a quick “Of course” the red stallion turns and heads back to rejoin his wife and son.

“Well that’s a bummer,” he gripes.

Dawn leans against him, giving him a quick nuzzle. “They may still catch whoever it was.”

“No, I mean the paperwork. I’ll hafta fill out some crap at the station now. Not to mention letting my contact know. Ugh, ponies suck sometimes.”

Heavy puts a supportive hoof on his shoulder. “Well dude, at least nopony was hurt or anything. Plus, nothing’s really lost. You were gonna leave those in Canterlot anyhow, right?”

Hesitantly, Cure agrees with the gray colt. “I guess. Screw it, nothing to do but wait and see.”

Author's Note

Edit - 4/9/23 - I had biffed up between when I published this and 61, forgetting that Cure had said "I also have an appointment Friday morning to meet with my attorneys" when he was discussing his plans for the trip with the other foals. That line has now been removed. My bad!

Chapter 56: Hearts and Hooves Day

Saturday, March 21st, 909 AB (7 days later)

“So here’s something I made a conscious choice not to ask for the last few months,” Cure starts, looking between his parents. “What’s on the agenda for the day?” he asks, smirking at the way his mom rolls her eyes.

“We’re going to a show!” Vines excitedly shouts. Deed lets out an annoyed huff at the declaration but Vines is quick to reach over and pat his right foreleg consolingly.

Title explains between bites. “He wanted to surprise us. Your dam got into his bag for a Cleaning crystal and he had the tickets in there too.”

“Ah, so they stood out when the enchantment showed you the contents, huh?”

Not bothering to pause, she simply nods in the affirmative.

“Oh well, there’s always next year,” the stallion sighs.

“Oh, sweetie, it’s the thought that counts. I haven’t gone to a show since I was a little filly! I’m so excited!” she squeals, bouncing in her seat.

“I remember that field trip,” Deed says, perking up. “Didn’t think I would care much for it, but the music and singin was pretty good.”

“Huh… So it’s what? A play? Opera? Musical?”

“A musical, honey,” Title answers.

“Well, I hope you enjoy it, but please, never ever buy me tickets to any kind of show. Ever,” he emphasizes. “I’m begging you.”

“Yeah, I figured that wasn’t really yer kinda thing, champ.”

“You don’t care for plays, honey?”

“Nah, dam. I think the memories kinda ruined most entertainment venues for me. I’m much more entertained practicing my magic than I am at a play, trust me.”

“Is there a way to make Sound Bubble one way only? In case Savvy acts up?” Title asks as she reaches down and pets the filly with a hoof. She’s nearly asleep leaning against her dam, using her haunch as a pillow.

“Yeah, but if you’re down in the crowd it won’t help the ponies around you.”

Vines suddenly leaps off her chair, wrapping around and raining kisses on her husband. Draped across his withers, which is probably less comfortable with him sitting up instead of laying down, she explains between smooches on his cheek, “Our big, strong, beautiful stallion got us a private box!”

“Really?” When Deed nods yes Cure continues, “How’d you pull that off? I thought those were… uhh, what’s the word I’m looking for? Somepony basically has them on reserve before the tickets for the public are even available. Like, I didn’t think you could usually get those unless you knew somepony.”

“He asked his grandsire back around Hearth’s Warming,” Title answers. “Grandma Vino was able to get them pretty easily. She has a lot of connections in high society.”

“Huh. I’m starting to think I should give them the real deaging treatment even if they may be mafia. It’s not like I’ve seen any conclusive sign they’re actually criminals. All the injuries I’ve healed could possibly be from security work.”

“Cure, baby, what ever gave you the impression he was involved in crime at all anyhow?”

“I dunno,” he shrugs. “I guess there’s just so many circumstantial things that ticked off ‘crime family’ check boxes in my mind. The name, the income sources, the house. Again, all circumstantial, but ya know what they say… where there’s smoke,” he says, rolling a hoof. “I guess I made what was probably an unfair assumption based solely off of those things, though.”

“Well I’m glad yer finally admittin that, champ.”

“Ya know, now that ya mention it, I don’t really see a lot in the paper about crime. I’ve kinda assumed it’s rare, but then the three of us got mugged that one time and somepony stole my trees. The latter feels like more of a corporate espionage or some kinda weird military thing than what I’m talking about, though.” Looking between his parents he asks, “Do they just not report crime? There was usually a whole section of the newspaper that humans dedicated to local incidents.”

Vines, done smothering her husband, gives him a last peck on his cheek then climbs off of him and goes back to her seat. “It’s very uncommon to hear about an actual crime happening here in Golden Hills, but the worst I usually see is some fighting or disorderly behavior. There are some bad areas in Baltimare, though. Robberies, maybe assault occasionally. More serious crimes are very, very uncommon.”

“They report crime when it happens, son. It’s just, like yer dam says, pretty uncommon,” Deed agrees. “When ya caught them robbers there was a blurb in the paper a few days later. It didn’t name names, but just said they were apprehended by a private citizen.”

“Oh. Neat. I wish you had told me, I woulda saved a copy for Solar. First arrest, ya know?” Deed winces, nodding in acknowledgement that he should have, then mutters a quick “sorry, sport” that Cure just waves away.

“As long as you’re not going into bad areas there’s really not much crime at all, honey,” Title starts. “At least not around here. Fillydelphia and Detrot have a bit more. Some parts of Manehattan and Cloudsdale are supposedly pretty bad.”

“Chicoltgo is a mess,” Deed mentions.

His mom nods in agreement. “They do have a lot of bad things happen there, but outside a few places I think, overall, it’s a lot lower than what you’re thinking because of population sizes. From what you’ve said there were way, way more humans than there are ponies, right?”

“Three hundred and twenty five million in a country that, as best I can tell, is about two times the size of Equestria. Maybe. Equestria is about a third as wide,” he says motioning side to side, “but two or three times as tall, I think. The maps we have aren’t nearly as good as what humans had because of technology. Of course, that’s excluding Alaska from that calculation.”

At Title’s curious look he projects an image of a map of North America, as best as he can recall, and points to the large state. “It’s a huge state but it’s removed from the rest and is largely uninhabited wilderness. To be fair, though, so is much of Equestria, but Alaska is that way due to weather conditions. I think I know where you’re going with this, though. Population density is far lower here.

“Another really bizarre cross-world thing, I think, is that cities seem to have about a tenth of the population of Earth equivalents. Approximately.” With a shrug he adds, “I dunno, Ed didn’t memorize city populations for the funsies. I only got a feel for populations here from the RHA stats.”

“Huh. Weird,” she agrees. “Regardless, you get what I was saying anyhow. Even ignoring other factors, one tenth the population in a city should mean less than one tenth the crime. In theory.”

“Right, but clearly there is still some. You yourself said somepony would rob me if I were going city to city healing.”

“Yeah, you would be an outsider in the community without local support with, presumably, lots of money. Classic target of opportunity. Which was also true of the mugging, I might add.”

“Which is stupid because I would obviously have already put almost all of that in the bank anyhow.” Pausing Cure wonders aloud, “How do they synchronize accounts from different branches?”

“Don’t get distracted,” she chides, “It’s magic. Probably,” she unhelpfully guesses. “If you’re that curious your sire can ask Fair Rate on Monday.”

“Oh yeah, she worked at the Fillydelphia branch, didn’t she?” Cure furrows his brows in thought for a moment. “Ya know, I wonder how much cutie marks reduce crimes just by their nature. You remember me talking about compulsions and stuff, right?”

The pink mare nods between bites. “Yeah.”

“Well the best way to make that stick is to reward the pony that obeys. I get a warm, fuzzy feeling in my chest when I heal ponies. I bet you get a sense of accomplishment when you do your thing too.”

“Right,” she agrees.
“I know I do, sport,” his sire nods in agreement.
His dam silently nods as well.

“Well that positive reinforcement probably keeps ponies mostly on the straight and narrow. Remember when we talked about sex marks, mom?”

The question causes his dam and sire’s heads to whip in his mom’s direction. She rolls her eyes at them and explains, “He asked if such a thing exists when he was making his suit. We were talking about cutie marks that may or may not be useless and the topic came up. You know how he meanders from topic to topic,” she defends, waving at the colt.

“Right, so we talked about, I guess… stranger? More unusual marks, I suppose. I strongly suspect there’s not ‘crime’ ones, are there?”

“Like… a cutie mark in fighting?” Vines asks.

“No, not fighting. Fighting is a necessary part of life sometimes. I mean, purely criminal marks. Ones without any societal benefit.” All three parents think for a few minutes, coming up empty.

He continues, “I’m not ruling out the possibility they exist, but I bet even a mark that seems criminal has possible positive uses. Honestly, though, if you think about it hard enough you could probably come up with a way to twist any action to something slightly positive, at least… so there must be some other metric to measure by.”

“I can think of a few things there ain’t no good use for, son. None of ‘em are good dinner table topics, though.”

“I can think of a few too, but even for things that sound categorically awful like murder and torture there may possibly be times when you could argue they’re needed. You would have to really engineer an scenario where that’s the case though; torture in particular.”

“I don’t care for the fact you consider those needed under any circumstances,” Vines comments harshly.

“Eh, think of times of war or whatever. You identify an enemy spy that can’t legally be dealt with for whatever reason but you need him eliminated.” With a shrug he adds, “Like I said, engineered scenarios. Not real life, day-to-day circumstances. I guess it also depends on what the legal definition of murder is here compared to Earth.”

“I don’t know the actual legal definition of it, but in general murder is murder, Cure.”

“I get that, ma, but the legal definition is what matters as far as society is concerned, mostly. Take somepony breakin in yer house,” he says, waving around. “In some countries, the one Ed lived in in particular, you could kill them on the spot and it would be called ‘justifiable murder’ because they had Stand Your Ground laws.

“In England the worst you could do was politely ask the offender to leave and hope they don’t trip on their way out, then sue you for the injury.” Cure pauses in thought for a moment. “That may have been a stereotype or hyperbole. I’m not a hundred percent sure about that. You definitely couldn’t blast away though.”

“I think the guard arrests ya either way, champ.”

“They did that in the US too. The police would, if not technically arrest you, at least detain you for questioning while they gather evidence and figure out exactly what happened. The important thing is, is the burden of proof on the state or on the individual?”

“I… don’t know. Babe?” he asks, turning to his wife.

“The crown,” she answers. “A prosecutor would have to have some kind of proof you were not defending yourself. Like… if they find a letter at the intruder’s home where you invited them over, signed by you.”

“Is there a requirement to subdue before escalating to lethal force?”

“No,” both his sire and mom answer at the same time. They share a look before she continues, “There’s laws about defending your home that date all the way back to the earliest few centuries after the founding of the country. The nobility demanded they be able to fight back against bandits or invaders however they wanted to without having to then justify it before the crown.”

“Well, that’s a relief. I don’t think I would ever need to resort to lethal force with the way my talent works, though. ”

“Probably not,” she agrees. “I’m also not sure how it would work, legally, if you hurt somepony and just let them bleed out or whatever. You might not be required to give aid, but you know somepony would be angry if you didn’t. Either way, you probably should actually deage your grandparents. They are family and all. I would maybe wait a little while, though.”

“Yeah, make it seem like I ‘figured something new out’ or whatever, right?”

“Yep. So when are you all going for your spa treatments?”

“Just after lunch. Everypony is gonna to meet at Dawn’s house around one. Honestly I’m feeling kinda silly about the whole thing. I mean… It sounded like a nice treat for the girls but it’s likely impossible for anypony to give a better massage than I can. I guess I’ll at least be on the receiving end for once.”

“You’re not just getting massages though,” Title reminds him. “You’re getting the full spa experience. Just don’t use your talent all day and enjoy yourself like everypony else does. You’re allowed to let yourself be spoiled for a change.”

“Listen to your mother, sweetie. You’ve been working hard and going out of your way to help everypony. Let yourself relax today.”

“Yeah… I guess I have been pushing myself a bit.”

“A bit?” Deed questions. “Son, memories or not yer not even nine, work six days a week-”

“Less than an hour a day!”

The stallion continues as if Cure didn’t interrupt, “volunteered to go all over Baltimare ta help with the births, the guard, the school, learning magic, practicing flying, plus all the extra stuff you do. I’m just glad ya took today off.”

Cure nods along, giving in with a placating “alright, alright, fine, I got it. And I’m not sure I would count magic and flying as work at all. Like I said, those are recreational activities as far as I’m concerned.”

“True… you seem to have a lot of fun,” his sire agrees. “I’m thinkin maybe once yer moms are able to, we oughta go on a family trip camping somewhere and you can show us the basics.”

Cure lights up at the suggestion with Title looking excited at the idea too. Vines looks distinctly uncomfortable, though, something her husband notices right away.

“Aww, don’t be like that babe,” Deed insists, rubbing a hoof gently on her shoulder. “Nopony is suggestin we go shootin through the sky, but ya may find it’s a whole lot more fun than yer thinkin.”

“It looks pretty damn fun,” Title agrees.

“Oh, it totally is. I’m tellin ya, mom, dam, the sights are amazing too. There’s nothing like sitting on a cloud, looking down at the world as the sun comes up. Watching the light banish the twilight of the night away. It’s like liquid sunshine washes across the land, painting the whole town with its glow.”

“Damn, son…”
“Wow, Cure. I didn’t expect that.”
“It does sound beautiful, honey.”

“I’m not much for scenery or nature, but there’s no denying how amazing it is to see it cresting the horizon and lighting up the cloud districts. They almost glow when those first beams hit. You’ll see someday,” he promises. “You all need to see it. I feel like everypony needs a reminder once in a while that this truly is a magical world.”

“Couldn’t ‘a said it better myself, son. Ya got me even more interested.”

“I suppose I could give it a try, sweetie. I’m sure the view from up there is amazing.”

“You won’t regret it, dam. Maybe I can show you with Cloud Walk someday soon, just to give you something to look forward to. Of course you would need better eyes to really appreciate it, but I can do that without doing anything to your brain now, so let me know.”

“You can?” Title asks. “How? I thought you had to upgrade that one part of the brain.”

“Nah, I can just add in secondary processing centers in the neck or down the spine. It doesn’t have to be the one in the brain. I have one in my barrel to process scents from spiracles.”

“Huh… sounds useful.”

“Nah, not really. With the upgrades to our noses it doesn’t add much. I can immediately tell which direction a scent is coming from, but that’s about all it adds.”

“So ya know who’s fartin, eh champ?”

“Before it finishes leaving their cheeks, pa.”

“Enough, you two,” Vines admonishes, rolling her eyes at the dual pouts.

The family finishes eating soon after. Title and Cure clean up, then he gets to work adjusting a mid crystal to block outgoing noise. Cure spends a few hours practicing magic shaping, then heads over to Heavy’s to play for a little bit before getting ready to go.

While hanging out with his friend, Cure is invited to and accepts joining Heavy’s family for lunch. He feels a little awkward knowing that the family lives just down the street and he’s not even bothered sharing their crops with them.

Sat beside his brother from another mother, Cure takes another bite of the onion and pepper pasta, pausing after he swallows. “So I dunno how much Heavy has told y’all about my talent, but if yer willing I can think of a few things I could do that would help out. I’ve been keeping most of what I can do a secret but I know I can at least trust you all with some.”

“Some?” Berry Prickle asks curiously. Heavy’s dam is sitting to Cure’s left with her newborn filly laying on a little booster right beside her.

“Well the girls are a little young to understand some of it, but yeah,” he nods. “For example, the garden you have out there?”

“Mmhmm.”

“I used my talent on what’s planted in our garden. It’s all hardier and grows more food.”

“Really?” Spring Showers asks. “That seems very useful.”

Heavy’s sire, Silver Vein, chimes in asking, “You don’t mind sharing, son?”

“No. In fact the crops I made are being reviewed by some officials to see how much better they really are. I was told I would get a tax break based on their estimated value. I’m still waiting for that though. Friggin bureaucracy drags their hooves when it comes to rebates but I bet they’d be in plenty’a hurry comin if ya owed ‘em two bits.”

The grumbling scowl from the colt gets a snorted laugh from Silver who nods along. “Yep, you got that right, son. Our taxes aren’t too bad, though. From what yer sire says at the bar you get hit a lot worse than most.”

“You got that right,” he quickly agrees, pointing an empty spoon at the stallion. “But getting back to ways I can help, it’s not just crops I can cause to… propagate.” The statement draws shocked looks from the three adults while Heavy furrows his brows in thought trying to remember what that word means.

“That’s something I’m keeping strictly confidential for now, and I truly hope you all can do the same, but with the season nearly upon us I’m risking informing the parents of my good friends so that, should they be planning on participating, they can do so with a better understanding of their potential outcomes.”

“What the hay are you talking about, Cure?” Heavy finally asks.

“He’s usin big words on purpose!” Fall Thunder accuses.

“I also have a plant that helps with stinky farty fillies,” Cure teases. Spring is quick enough to put a hoof on Fall’s withers before she can leap off of her seat. “I’m actually serious about that, Mrs. Showers. I’ll bring a few by here soon.

“They’re flowers that produce a bulb of scented oil that every pegasus I’ve given one to seems to really enjoy.” He looks to the other adults and adds, “My parents like ‘em too. The oil is good for our coats, same as their wings, especially in the rain.”

“That sounds lovely, Cure,” she gratefully replies. “What exactly were you saying about… propagation though?”

“Well, one outta six doesn’t have to be one outta six, first off. It could be six outta six instead. Or one out of two or even zero out of six.”

Spring doesn’t hesitate a second to clarify. “So you’re saying that…” she stops, flicking her eyes to Heavy, then back, then raising a single, questioning brow.

“Every time,” Cure agrees. “Heck, two or three at a time if you want.”

Her wings start lifting at the statement. The other adults are clearly interested too as both have completely stopped eating.

“Think it over,” Cure suggests. “It’s not a limited time offer, exactly. If ya wanna wait until September that’s fine too. The only caveat is I need to use my talent before anything takes root,” he points to the mares, “and ideally a few days beforehoof on you,” he finishes, nodding in Silver’s direction. “In fact, Mr. Vein, I can do your part whenever, as the sire is the determining factor of gender.”

“Gender?” Heavy asks. “Like… colts and fillies?”

“Yeah, dude.”

“What about them?”

“Eh, nothing big. Just talking about biology and stuff. I don’t think Mrs. Apple has gone over a lot of that with our age group though.”

“Yeah,” the gray colt agrees. “I’m coming to you when we get there. Everypony says biology is hard but I know you know all that.”

“Sure, bro. Just use the crystal and Send me something. Remember we’re house hunting right now?”

“Yeah. Find anything yet?”

“Not yet. I’m hoping somepony in one of those nicer homes over by Rising and Sapphire moves in the next few months. Nopony wants to move in the winter, after all. You about done? We gotta head to Dawn’s soon.”

“Sure,” Heavy nods, then looks at his dam. “May I be excused, dam?”

“Sure honey. Have fun with your friends. Don’t worry about your plates, we’ll take care of them.”

Both colts thank the parents and, after Heavy gets a few departing nuzzles, take off for Dawn’s home.

“Are you literally insane?” Cure asks.

“No, I just think you’ll enjoy the experience,” Drift insists. “Getting your wings done is really relaxing, and every unicorn I’ve asked says the same about having their horn filed.”

“I’ll consider one of the other, but not both. I’m not ready to throw that out there quite yet. At least, not with you all present.”

“Why’s it matter if we’re around?” Sapphire asks.

“He can disguise himself,” Coast reminds her. “If we’re seen walking around with an alicorn somepony could probably find us, then him.”

“Ohh… yeah, good point,” the mint filly agrees. “Don’t do that, Cure.”

“I… wasn’t going to?”

“Good,” she affirms. “Don’t.”

“Uhh, you got it, Saph.”

The girl just nods in agreement and, with a pensive look adds, “I think wings look better though. Do wings.”

“Yeah, see?” Drift instantly agrees, pointing a hoof in agreement.

Sapphire notices Dawn glaring at her. The orange filly is on Cure’s left, frustrated at the fact that Glacial immediately claimed his withers as soon as he laid on a couch. Drift is laying beside the platinum filly’s haunches to their right and Rising quickly hopped up to their left, sandwiching Dawn between Cure and herself.

Coast, Heavy, Ferric, and Sapphire are sitting on the couch closest to the door while the group waits for Solar to get ready and Starlight to arrive. The two had agreed to play chaperone for the day, happy to get an all expenses paid spa trip in exchange for accompanying the group.

“What’s wrong, Sunrise,” Sapphire teases from atop her sister’s withers. “Didn’t you think his wings were pretty?” she asks in a mock pout.

“Quit it, Saph,” Ferric quietly admonishes, gently bumping her sister’s chin with her head. “Nopony likes a troublemaker.”

With an exaggerated sigh she reluctantly agrees. “Fiiiine. I’ll leave Miss Angryhorn alone. So…” she pauses, resting her head right on top of Ferric’s and smiling mischievously, “did ya get it done, sis?”

The dark filly goes completely still, then blushes so hard Cure’s heat sensors can detect her easily from several meters away. When she doesn’t answer and Sapphire doesn’t clarify, all heads slowly turn her direction.

“Am I missing something?” Glacial asks. “Why are ya blushing?”

“Yeah, Ferric,” Heavy says. “What’s she talking about?”

When her sister fails to answer, Sapphire takes it upon herself to help out. “Sissy’s been working on a very special project, haven’t you?”

“You said you wouldn’t say anything!” Ferric growls.

“Aww, but now seems like the perfect time!” she gleefully crows. “Didjya get it done?”

Bashfully looking away, Ferric quietly mumbles, “It’s not good enough.”

“When you showed me I thought it was looooovely!” Sapphire sings out.

“Maybe later. Not now,” Ferric growls.

“Hmm, maybe I’ll give a hint,” Sapphire thinks aloud. Standing on Ferric’s withers she opens her mouth to say something, but never gets the chance as the red filly quickly rolls over, grabs her, and flips them so she’s on top. “Mmmf! Mmmmfh!” she shouts, laughing and futilely thrashing while her larger, stronger sister holds her mouth shut, pinning her in place.

“What the hay?!” Heavy shouts as he and Coast jump to get out of the way.

Despite Ferric whispering directly in her sister’s ear and the noise the filly herself is making, Cure distinctly hears the older girl threatening to tell their parents, specifically their sire, while poking her sister in the ribs until she agrees to be quiet.

Once order is restored a very smug, amused looking Sapphire is released, still laying against Ferric’s left side. Coast and Heavy retake their spots, looking at the bigger filly somewhat apprehensively, but the five foals on the other sofa are happy to sit and watch the sibling drama play out. A knock at the door draws everypony’s attention and Dawn hops down to let Starlight in.

Rising takes the opportunity to steal her spot on Cure’s left, ignoring the “she’s gonna be ticked” warning he whispers to her.

“She’ll need to learn to deal at some point,” Rising defensively argues. “It’s not like you two are married anyhow.”

“Try telling her that,” Drift quietly mumbles.

“She’s right,” Glacial whispers. “There’s too few colts for her to be acting like she owns you.”

“I just don’t want a fight today,” Cure insists. “Just… promise me nopony will start yelling,” he barely finishes before Dawn walks back into the room. As soon as her eyes land on the innocent looking yellow filly Cure’s pretty sure a few strands of her mane jump out of place.

<< Don’t be like that, babe. We’ve already discussed this. They are not going to make fun of you. We are all friends, so please don’t start a fight. >> he silently Messages her. It seems to work at least somewhat; she doesn’t look pissed anymore, but she is obviously annoyed. Despite that, she trots around the couch, hops up into Rising’s vacated spot, and lays across her withers, facing a surprised looking Glacial.

Cure glances left and right and notes that Rising seems happy and gladly nuzzles up into her friend’s chin. Drift, like the platinum pegasus on his withers, is looking around his front at the pair, amazed she took it that well.

Starlight makes her way to the couch by the kitchen just as Solar comes down the stairs. The older colt pauses mid-step at the scene and, after taking in the filly pile on and around Cure, looks relieved. “Hey Shiny,” he says, approaching his marefriend for a chaste kiss. “You all ready to go?” he asks, turning to face the foals.

“The girls voted. I am obligated to go winged today,” Cure explains.

“Winged?” Starlight asks. “You can grow wings too?”

Shrugging, Cure nods. “Why couldn’t I?”

“I… don’t know?” she slowly responds. “Can you fly?”

“He’s a cheating flankhole, of course he can fly,” Drift bitterly answers.

“She’s just mad he’s faster than her,” Glacial explains, giving a flap of her wings to lift off of Cure’s withers and settling on Drift’s instead. Drift huffs in annoyance while turning away.

“Faster?” Solar asks. “How are you faster than an actual pegasus?”

“Earth pony strength,” Cure explains, standing and starting his work growing wings. “I think that’s why the princess is so fast too. That and wing configuration. I’m sticking with normal pegasus wings, though.”

“Jeez, I bet earth pony strength and flight are a heck of a combo,” he agrees. “How fast can you go?”

“Dunno,” he answers.

Starlight and Solar, along with most of the foals, watch on in fascination as he pushes the wings out of his back. Conversation continues as he works on them.

“The chicken refused to go all out,” Drift gripes.

Glacial quickly points out, “He’s still a new flier, Drift. He shouldn’t go all out. He went fast enough that one time, anyhow.”

“That one time?” Dawn asks.

“Yeah,” Glacial answers, “I asked how fast he can go about a month ago and…” she trails off with a scrunched snout.

Drift finishes for her. “Total cow manure. He used some armor spell to cut back on drag and with his wings pumping he shot by faster than anypony I’ve seen outside of professional racers.”

“And almost crashed,” he adds, getting a wince and a nod from the platinum filly. “Still, that was a month ago and I’d only been flying a few times by then. I figure I could fly to Canterlot in maybe an hour and fifteen, hour and a half. Dunno, I haven’t tried going really high yet.”

“Canterlot’s like five hundred and fifty kilometers away…” Starlight mumbles.

“Yep. The…” he pauses. “Some birds can go over three hundred kph and that’s without magic at all, just pure muscle. There’s tricks I could do with my talent to go even faster, but I would have to be careful not to break the sound barrier or that would definitely be noticed.”

“There’s no way in Tartarus you could go that fast,” Drift insists.

“Hopefully we’ll never know,” he responds. “Because the only reason I ever would is if something really bad is happening and I need to get there ASAP.”

Ferric asks, “How fast is sound?”

“Twelve hundred kph,” Glacial answers. “Faster than any pegasus on the planet by a lot.”

“I don’t think even the princess could do that, Cure,” Solar argues.

“Dunno, dude. That also definitely falls under the ‘I hope we never find out’ category, though. She could be here from her castle in half an hour. If I see the boss lady in that much of a hurry I’ll probably assume we’re at war or somethin.”

He finishes growing out his feathers as conversation stills, then flares his wings and lays them flat on his back. They’re appropriately sized for his body, though that still means they are a little longer than a pegasus colt approximately his size would have.

His extra mass and width make having slightly larger wings convenient to offset the additional load they’re carrying. He still hides his mark and changes his coat to a lighter brown, then gives his mane and tail a dark chocolate to match his eyes.

Cure spreads his wings out wide for the fillies to check over. “Look good?” he asks the girls, getting nods from the group. Starlight just stares, mouth agape and eyes wide until Solar nudges her. “Alright, unless Solar needs to powder his snout, I think we’re ready to head out,” he says.

“Quiet, you nuisance,” the colt replies. “Let’s go.”

Cure feels a little sorry for the older unicorns. Granted, they are getting a free spa day out of all of this, but the girls are pretty wound up and the train ride to Baltimare feels longer for it. Several times the girls, Sapphire in particular, got a little exuberant with their conversation or started bouncing around more animatedly and had to be gently shushed.

Fortunately they all seemed to be willing to listen to Cure a little more readily, probably because they had all been made aware by their parents that the colt is shelling out a decent pile of bits to treat them all to something special. Even though it’s likely not true, the implication would be “behave or it may be the last time.” The spa they’re going to is, after all, considered to be one of the nicest in the city that it doesn’t take “knowing somepony” to get in the doors of.

Cure hadn’t been sure at the time of the booking whether his parents would come or if Haze and Emerald would want to join. When he, Deed, and the pegasus duo made the appointment his sire told them it would be for, at most, nine foals and three to five adults.

The price would be a staggering sum for most families, but with gratuities and any products the girls may decide to take home Cure isn’t expecting to spend much more than what he makes in an average day. He doesn’t expect it to be anywhere near as much as the bit pouches he’d ordered at Early’s the same day.

The spa, Tranquility on the Bay is, as the name suggests, overlooking a stretch of the northern Horseshoe Bay. At a steady canter it still takes ten minutes to get there from the train station and, despite the warm coat and slightly milder weather, Starlight struggled to stay warm. Solar was able to help out by keeping his seemingly more effective Warming on her, but it became obvious that the party planner is unaccustomed to being outside in the winter for more than a few minutes at a time.

The store is located in a wealthier part of town, at the far eastern end of a shopping district that caters to, not exactly the elite of the town, but certainly the upper class. The group of foals led by two young adults got a few curious looks by other ponies wandering about doing their weekend or Hearts & Hooves shopping, but nopony approached them or said anything.

It certainly didn’t help that Glacial and Drift were flitting about, looking in all the different store windows and occasionally dragging Cure with them to look at the offered wares just as they had when they made the booking.

The first time Cure took to the air Starlight nearly tripped watching him instead of looking where she was going. He can only assume that unicorns who don’t frequently use magic also fail to take advantage of the aura to keep them aware of their surroundings. He, on the other hoof, has come to hate the fact he has to keep his horn hidden so much, losing out on the second set of eyes.

He thought it was kind of adorable when both fillies flew ahead to stare into a fancy toy store. They became so enthralled at the moving model train displays they lost all awareness of their surroundings. Cure had to admit, the display was neat and he had no idea that such things existed in this world, but that didn’t stop him from sneaking his muzzle under Drift’s raised wing and giving her a gentle nip right at the base.

Just as Glacial had told him when they were sitting on a cloud together, the purple filly’s muscle spasmed as she lept in the air loudly yelping. Cure got a good wing smack across his face as she launched off, but the glare from the filly, the chuckles of passing witnesses, and the much louder laughs and taunts from the just catching up remainder of the group made it completely worthwhile.

Upon entering the spa Solar is greeted by the receptionist who asks for his name. Cure instantly thinks “Rarity” when he sees her. Though she doesn’t have the future Generosity’s accent she has the color scheme down perfectly, even if her manestyle is tied back in a more practical ponytail draped over her right withers instead of the more elaborate style.

The reception area looks impressively well-to-do. To Cure’s unrefined eyes the overall motif twigs inherited memories of Greek or Roman baths, something the spa is well known for. The floor is a sandstone tile with the light brown color scheme continuing throughout the room. The reception desk is a chest height slab of polished, smoothed stone with aromatherapy candles burning at each end, though the main source of light is the, when facing the desk, right wall of the room which is, from floor to ceiling, glass panes facing the bay.

Cure notes that at the bottom and top of the panes have runic channels, presumably running to a crystal that either toughens the glass or, perhaps, does something to keep them clean. They are all spotless and even though the sun is now overhead plenty of light filters in the room from the beautiful view of the bay. Several ships headed either in or out can be seen from the view, though their origin or destination is the dock area to the southwest, closer to the middle of the city instead of the northeastern area they’re currently in.

The smell of lavender is strong enough that Cure has been forced to dial back his sense of smell both times, though from the looks on his friends they’re all enjoying it and are impressed at the apparent wealth on display.

As he and several of the other foals look out at the water he overhears the receptionist speaking with Solar behind and to his left. “I’m very sorry, sir, but the booking is for the son of a Mister Clean Deed. It says here Cure Wave… a blue earth pony with a staff and snake cutie mark. With neither present I’m not sure if we can see you today.”

“Oh, Cure is just outside shopping,” Cure yells, turning. “He said he’ll just be a moment. C’mon Heavy, let’s go get him,” he says, nudging his friend back out the door. He ignores the baffled looks most of the girls are giving him and the protest from the gray colt as the two trot outside. Once the door shuts he turns and whispers to his friend, “Congrats, bro, you get to be me today. I didn’t even think of the possibility they wouldn’t see us without me or my sire here.”

“Why do I gotta be you? Just change back,” he quietly argues. Thankfully there’s no real traffic at the end of the shopping district, so nopony is nearby to overhear the argument.

“Dude think of it… an earth pony and a pegasus leave and two earth ponies come back. Don’t you think that’ll look weird?”

“It seems less weird that the pegasus took off than the earth pony! Where are ya gonna tell ‘em I went, huh?”

“Shopping.” At his friend’s incredulous look he pleads, “C’mon Heavy, just let me change your colors for the next few hours. I’m really curious what a professional preening feels like and it’ll mean a lot to the girls if I can join ‘em. What difference will it really make if you look like me while we’re here?”

Sighing, Heavy begrudgingly nods in acceptance. It only takes the pair a moment to duck around the side of the building, make the changes, and head back to the spa. Dawn had come outside to see what was going on and followed them back in giggling at Heavy’s annoyed face.

“We found him!” Cure yells, trotting back in the store with the pair in tow. The receptionist takes one look at the blue colt, then glances at the door. “Our friend, Heavy, saw a toy store he thought was neat. He’ll probably be by later. Don’t worry if he doesn’t show up, he gets distracted easily,” he explains, ignoring the “pot, kettle, dude” remark from his friend.

“You know how colts are with spa stuff,” Dawn adds, “he may spend the whole time looking at toys.” The other girls are looking between the pair, most of them holding back giggles.

“Nice of you to join us, Cure,” Sapphire teases, trotting up to the disguised Heavy. She reaches up with a hoof, grabs his chin, and plants a big, wet kiss on his cheek, causing the colt to blush purple. “We thought we would have to get started without you!”

Starlight, meanwhile, is looking between the two in shock. She can’t help but mumble “This is so weird” under her breath, though Cure can easily hear it. Solar just smirks and nods at the mare, quickly telling her, “You’re going to have to get used to it, I’m afraid.”

The receptionist looks suspicious at the pair for a moment, but glances down and reads the book aloud while nodding. “Okay, blue with staff and snake cutie mark… yep, well we’re all prepared for you! If you would all come this way, please. We have alcoves for you to place your saddlebags, coats, or any other items while we take care of you!” she calls, pulling aside the curtain for everypony to enter the hallway, alcove area leading back to the spa itself.

When the group of foals start excitedly chatting she glances over her withers with a smile. “Now I know you’re all very excited, but we have other customers here,” she continues in a more subdued whisper-shout, “so please keep voices low so as not to disturb anypony.”

“We want to be welcomed back, everypony,” Cure adds, “So don’t make Solar give you a spankin, okay?”

“So weird,” the older colt sighs as he puts his bags in one of the alcoves.

They don’t seem very efficient to Cure, but it’s clearly a design choice. Instead of being square cubbies, they’re rotated forty five degrees, so while technically still squares they’re oriented like diamonds instead. It works, it just seems silly. He can’t deny that it does look nice, especially with the scented candle sconces lining the hallway providing light. The girls are all visibly excited, taking in everything with huge saucer eyes and ear-to-ear smiles while the few that brought bags, scarves, earmuffs, or whatever store everything away.

The only thing Cure is carrying on him is his spatial bit pouch and, paranoid as he is, he keeps that flattened in a subdermal pouch under his belly.

After storing their belongings the group follows the mare to the other end of the hall. When she passes through the curtain there they all follow into the actual “spa” area, nearly running into each other as they stop to take in the breathtaking view. The glass panes continue down the side wall, lighting the entire area.

The center of the room is a large, heated, stone bath, thankfully with graduated height levels for different tribes to fully immerse themselves. Columns are spaced four meters apart around it and the ceiling has several glass panels letting sunlight pour in.

There’s a few other patrons already in the water, which is not a surprise given the holiday. The wall on the left side of the room has a few employees softly talking to customers at a service desk.

There’s curtained doorways leading, presumably, to the rooms where guests can take advantage of the services the spa offers. The right wall has small alcoves with padded benches lining it. They’re divided by narrow stone walls, and all of them are looking over the bay.

The receptionist, or hostess, continues leading the group past everything to an area just outside a small, arched doorway against the back center wall while explaining, “Through here is a sauna room where you can relax in the steam.

“There’s a larger area to the right,” she points to her left, their right, by the glass, “that is your private relaxation area. That is for you to cool off and relax and enjoy the view. Take a nap in the sun, or just take a break between treatments. Please don’t spend more than fifteen minutes at a time in the sauna or in the water without taking a small break. We’ve had ponies stay in too long and it can make you dizzy,” she warns.

Continuing, she explains. “We have a team of expert groomers here,” she points to another area to her right. There’s another curtain in the back left corner of the room leading to the grooming area. She continues, “so before anything else, please start there. They’ll give you a quick trim if you’d like, then a rejuvenating wash from snout to tail so you can enjoy the bath area.

“The water is very warm; we keep it at forty degrees, so again, don’t stay in too long and take breaks often. If any of you would like, we have a full body seaweed wrap, aromatherapeutic massage, hooficure services, and full styling services available, though you’ll want to wait until you’re almost ready to leave to get styled or the humidity could ruin it. Simply approach the attendant at the service desk or wave down an attendant and they will guide you from there.

“If you would like snacks or a drink while you relax please do the same. For the adults we have a selection of mixed drinks, wines, and infused fruit drinks. I must apologize because we don’t get a large number of foals as customers, though we do have a selection of normal fruit juices. If you need assistance with anything, please let us know. Enjoy!” she happily calls before giving a small bow and heading back to the front.

“Cure…” Rising breathily calls, turning to face the brown colt, “how much is all this costing?” she slowly asks.

“Umm… are you asking because you’re worried I’m spending too much or because you may wanna come with yer dam?”

“Both.”

“Ah. Well… It’s like seventy bits-”

“Eighty. Holiday rates,” Solar corrects, earning a glare from him and a few quiet gasps from his friends.

“Eighty bits,” Cure huffs before continuing as normal, “for a few hours to just get groomed and take advantage of the sauna and the salt bath and a style before you go. Don’t drink that, by the way, it’s ocean water. Other services are à la carte, so… yeah. It depends on what you do once you’re here. Now,” he says as they devolve into, thankfully, quiet chatter.

“Ahem!” he calls more loudly, getting their attention back. “Thanks. I want you all to get whatever done you want. That includes you two also,” he says to the adults. “Eat, drink, get massages, do the seaweed wrap, get your hooves done, horns filed, etcetera. As far as getting a style… eh, that’s up to you, but you know I can do whatever whenever, so feel free,” he finishes lamely with a shrug.

“Just don’t feel weird about going wild. I mean, don’t do crap you’re not actually interested in just for the heck of it, but I want you all to thoroughly enjoy this experience without concerns about money. You all know I make a ton of bits and, starting probably within the next few months, the projects I’ve submitted to reduce my tax liability will kick in, so I probably won’t be paying taxes anymore soon. That’s like a forty percent raise for me.”

“Forty percent?!” Starlight hisses out.

“Don’t get him started,” Dawn quickly warns. “He’s totally insane about taxes for some reason.”

“Taxes suck,” he defends. “You’ll see when the quarter ends and you get hit for them crystal sales, babe. So anyhow,” he continues, looking back over the group with a big smile, “how ‘bout we all get our rears scrubbed and get started?” he asks.

Cure makes his way to the grooming area along with everypony else. He’s directed to a station and told a pegasus would be by to take care of him shortly.

With him at six and a half hooves (twenty six inches or just shy of sixty-six cm) the mare that enters a few minutes later is only about three hooves taller. His sire, by comparison, is just shy of double his height and his moms are only about a hoof shorter than Deed is. The mare has a lighter, pastel purple coat and a more dull yellow mane and tail.

After a quick greeting she gives him a brief rundown of the process, probably as a way to make the foal feel more at ease with a stranger working on him.

As she gets started with the rubber brush she, with a gentle voice, asks, “Have you ever been to a professional groomer, honey? You must take care of your coat because I’m getting almost nothing off of you.”

“Oh yeah, I take good care of myself. Nopony wants to be around a gross colt, after all. I’ve never been to a professional, though. My dam gives me a trim out back ‘a our house when she says I need it.”

Starting on the left side of his neck she gently rubs in circles, working on his coat below the mane. When she gets to his shoulders she can’t help but comment on his physique. “You’re looking a little… umm… under weight, maybe? I think you need to eat a little more, sweetie. You don’t have a single gram of fat on you!”

“Oh, I eat a lot, I just burn it all off exercising,” he explains, flexing his chest and legs and getting a gasped “oh my” from the mare. The addition of the muscles needed for flight definitely bulked up his shoulders, back, and chest. “Yeah, everypony in our group is super fit. We go running a lot and I’ve been flying more recently. My parents are earth ponies, in case you couldn’t tell, so I didn’t used’ta fly much ‘cause dam was afraid I couldn’t fly ‘till recently.”

“Raise your left wing so I can get under it, please,” she gently requests as he talks. Once he’s done she looks him over curiously, focusing on the slightly bigger wings. “Both of your parents are earth ponies?” she asks with a raised brow.

“Yup. Got my coat from my sire, though he’s got a black mane ‘n tail instead of the dark brown I got. My mom likes to tease my dam sayin if it weren’t for our colors bein so close she would think I got switched at birth.”

The mare comes to a complete stop for a second to process that and, as she continues, only manages a thoughtful “huh” in response.

“Yeah, I’m definitely the weirdo of the family,” he continues, “but pa says not to let nopony talk down ta me. He always says I’m every bit as much earth pony as my siblings, whatever that means,” he adds with a shrug.

The mare makes agreeing noises as she lays on her barrel to get his left legs, then freezes in place, softly saying, “Oh. Oh my. I… uhh. I see. Well it’s, umm, good that you have a nice sire.”

“Yeah, he’s the best. I hope I can be a good sire like him someday too. Can I put my wing down?”

“Right… yeah,” she agrees, brushing his front leg. “Well, I’ve heard of tribes having foals from a different tribe on occasion. You must have had a pegasus relative at some point.”

“Mhmm. My dam’s great, great grandsire was a pegasus. She says he was the biggest fuh… err… the biggest darned pegasus she’d ever seen a’fore he died. All’a four of his wives were earth ponies, though.”

Starting on his hind leg, the mare absently blurts out, “He must have been huge.” Freezing with a dark blush she quickly apologizes. “Oh, sorry! Hey, just out of curiosity, you’re what, about what… twelve years old?”

“Nope!” he excitedly answers, “I’ll be nine in June. I’m just tall ‘cause of the earth pony blood. Ma says I’ll probably be thirteen hooves tall just like my sire someday, so I still got a lotta growin ta do. She says I’ll shoot up like a weed when I’m older or if I get my mark in the next year or so.”

“Sweet Celestia…” she mumbles, moving to his other side.

Conversation dies off as she works him over. She’s careful to avoid touching on a level that would be inappropriate for a young colt, though she is still a professional and cleans him from snout to tail.

The wing grooming is definitely his favorite part and he can certainly appreciate what a relief it must be for a pegasus with a feather out of place to get everything straightened out. Before sending him on his way the mare suggests he see the stylist before he leaves, if nothing else so he can get a fresh layer of oil applied to his wings since the soap she used on him removed it all.

Cure doesn’t care much for the sauna. Nothing about sweating his balls off and inhaling everypony else’s stank sounds like a fun time, even if ponies don’t get BO like humans. Instead he eases himself into the salt bath and spreads his wings like flotation devices to stay above water. Even with the high salt concentration his buoyancy is such that he can’t float until he adds a couple ballast chambers to his back by his haunches and shoulders and gets them inflated via spiracle chambers.

Gently pushing himself along with his wings he contentedly floats in the water. Most of his friends are off doing their own thing, so he paddles himself closer to Solar and Starlight who are side-by-side near the edge of the pool.

“Howdy,” he says as he approaches.

“Hey Cure,” Solar starts, halting at the “Riddle!” the smirking colt throws back at him. “Ugh. Riddle. Thanks for inviting us, by the way.”

“Anything for my bro,” he says, holding out a hoof.

Being a bro and all, Solar doesn’t leave him hanging.

“So, Starlight, Star Bright, first star I’ve seen… thus far today,” he sort of rhymes, getting a giggle from the mare. “My parents have a special date coming up this November and you’re just the mare I need to talk to.”

“Oh?” she asks.

“Mhmm. Their ten year anniversary. I’ll be nine in a few months, so if you do the math I’m sure you’ll come to some conclusions there.”

Cure can see the gears turning in her head and, when the look of realization hits she gives him a single raised brow.

Nodding, he clarifies, “Yep. My parents were fifteen, just a few months shy of sixteen, when my dam got her very first ever estrus. Instead of being thrilled to find they were going to have a grandson her… parents, if you can call them that,” he snarls, getting concerned looks from the pair, “threw her out and turned their rears on her. My sire’s folks are almost as worthless, apparently, so they had to do everything themselves.”

“Jeez dude, I’m sorry to hear that. I had no idea,” Solar confesses.

“Yeah, well, jokes on them ‘cause I’m frickin rich. Worthless fucking trash. Anyhow,” he says, refocusing on Starlight, “I want to give them the ceremony of my dam’s dreams. I could use your professional help if you’re available for hire.”

“Of course! Do you already have any idea of how big you want it to be?”

“Big. I can get ya a list of family with my mom’s help. Other than the fam’ I’m thinking the neighbors, the parents of my friends, the other market stall owners, and… well, half the damn town sounds great to me. Do you help with honeymoon planning too?”

As the colt explains, Starlight’s eyes get bigger and bigger to the point she’s almost vibrating in excitement. At his question she has to shake her head no, but has a solution for that as well. “I don’t do vacations myself, but I have a friend from school who does. I’ll work with her to find the perfect trip. Any ideas on what would be nice?”

“Cabin in the woods. Hiking, beautiful sunsets. Weather isn’t a problem for us, so it doesn’t need to be in a warm area. Hrm… I don’t know if my mom would go or not… hold on.”

<< Ma, talking to Starlight about dam and dad having a ceremony for renewing vows and a honeymoon in a cabin in the woods. I didn’t want to exclude you if you wanted to go. Don’t tell them, but should I tell Starlight to plan for three honeymooners or two? >>

Starlight looks curiously at Solar when the colt seemingly freezes, looking off in the distance. “Sending crystal,” he whispers to her.

“I need one of those…” she absently says.

“Damn, we must be out of range.” Cure glances over to the windows overlooking the bay and does a wing shrug, bobbing in the water from the motion. “Well, we are all the way on the opposite side of town. I’ll double check but I suspect mom will stay and we’ll watch the foals.”

“That’s fine,” she says. “Just let me know and we’ll get together to start figuring out the details.”

“Okay, sounds good. I have spare mid-lows at home, so just remind me when we’re leavin and I’ll give one to Dawn at school tomorrow to pass to this lug.”

“Oh. Thanks!”

“Sure. And Solar, your parents’ twentieth is next May, by the way.”

“Oh yeah. How’d you know that?”

“We traded wedding stories at the Hearth’s Warming party that somepony decided to skip without telling me.”

With a sheepish smile Solar ducks his head in acknowledgement. Starlight clears her throat and admits, “That may have been slightly my fault.”

“Ah. Waited ‘till the parents were gone to come over for a lil hanky panky, eh?” The two blush at the accusation, but don’t refute it at all. “Well, I can’t fault ya for that dude. I’ll definitely be skippin the party this year. Adding a pretty filly to snuggle with is just icing on the cake if ya ask me.”

“Oh? Didn’t enjoy it?”

“Nah, dude. I even got my balls busted at work ‘cause of an incident with some pricks there. Otherwise it wasn’t bad, but… meh.”

“You don’t talk like an eight year old,” Starlight notes, “Like… at all. I would swear you’re our age if your voice were deeper.”

Talking quietly so that the ambient music covers conversation, Cure explains, “Yeah, I get that a lot. Ya have to grow up fast when Harmony blesses ya with a mark that crams yer sire’s junk in your face the first time ya use it on another pony.

“Just an FYI, when I scan somepony I see everything whether I want to or not.” Despite her eyes going as wide as saucers he continues, “The flip side is that I’ve scanned about a thousand ponies by now, so… ya know… who cares? Seen seven hundred vaginas, seen ‘em all, right?”

Solar closes his eyes and slowly shakes his head. “Dude…”

“What? It’s true. The first four ponies I used my talent on, other than myself, were my sire, my mom, one of the crew, and then my dam. Trust me, it’s one hundred percent clinical for me, as I’ve told you before. Once your talent crams a few dozen nutsacks in your face they just become another body part.

“It ain’t no damn pleasure cruise, bro. Do you know what your bowels look like from the inside? I do, and if you’d like a peek just say the word and I’ll show you an Illusion. You’ll understand why I don’t act like a normal foal. Do you think your sire, as a medic, hasn’t seen anything and everything under Celestia’s sun?”

“Oh my stars,” she mumbles.

“He’s telling the truth,” Solar sighs. “He really is a professional about it. Even if he is a little… candid in the way he talks.”

“It comes with the territory, my friend. Oh, by the way, did Dawn fill you in on the whole foal gender thing?”

Solar recoils at the sudden, unexpected topic change. “What? No.”

“Eh, alright, fair. Sound Bubble, please.” Nodding, Solar quickly casts the spell so that only the three of them are inside it. “I can make ya produce only males. Or females. Or whatever ratio you want,” he explains. Ignoring their shocked looks he turns to Starlight, “I can also cause mares to have twins. Or triplets. Or not have an egg if ya just wanna have fun during estrus without the worry.

“Until y’all are sure it’s gonna last that last one’s a good idea, ya know? Just don’t call me if you end up accidentally pregnant thinking I’ll solve that problem. I understand there’s possible circumstances when that’s the least bad option but ‘We were horny and couldn’t wait a couple weeks’ doesn’t meet that criteria.”

“I would never!” Starlight instantly blurts out. Cure simply nods in acceptance.

“Sun and stars, Cure… I’m guessing from the Sound Bubble you realize that ponies would flock to you for more colts, right?”

“Yep. It’s like… agenda item two or three on my list for the boss lady. I figure in a few years when I’m older and can get around more easily one of the things I’ll be doing is fixing the whole gender imbalance thing.

“Between that and curing aging, not to mention all the disabilities I’m fixing, I’ll have my plate full. But the boss lady? She probably needs to start plannin for that now, assuming she wants the country to go down that road. We don’t want a total brodeo of a country in twenty years, after all.”

“Brodeo?” Starlight slowly says, chewing on the word. Once it clicks she nearly slips in the water giggling.

“Cure… aging?” Solar asks.

“Oh yeah, absolutely. I woulda talked to yer dam and sire about it already but I’m not a hundred percent sure he wouldn’t put it in some damn official report or whatever. But yeah, if they wanted a few more foals or whatnot I could make that happen for them, no problem. If y’all wanna hold off ‘till you’re older there’s nothin wrong with that either. Heck, I already do the cosmetic version of that right now. What do you think I’ll be able to do in five years, bro?”

“I’m honestly not sure what all you’re able to do now. You’ve had your cutie mark for, what, six months?” At Cure’s nod he continues, “The ideas you come up with absolutely blow my mind as it is. I can’t fathom what you really could do if you didn’t hold back, so yeah… I don’t doubt for a second that aging is just another thing on your list of inconveniences to address whenever you feel like it.”

Cure quickly turns to Starlight and adds, “I would ask that you not share any part of this conversation, by the way.” Doing his best to avoid sounding threatening, he adds, “I’m putting a lot of trust in you by telling you this. I’ll be very disappointed if I find it was misplaced.

“If you do have grandparents that are getting up there, though, feel free to say so. Unless they’re jerks like mine and you don’t want ‘em around another fifty years, that is,” he adds with a shrug.

The pair just stares, unsure how to answer, so the colt starts floating away, pausing before the edge of the bubble and calling over his withers, “Let me know if you come up with anything we need to move fast on, Star. I’mma go rinse off and get that freakin massage I’ve been waitin for for forever.”

The massage tables aren’t in solo alcoves like Cure expected. That ends up working pretty well because a few of the girls must have seen him headed that direction and decided to follow him in. Ferric takes the table to his left, Dawn hops on the one to his right followed by Glacial and Drift.

The massage ponies do a decent job, but Cure’s pretty sure he won’t indulge in them much in the future. He figures that he can try again when he’s an adult; the masseuse is probably being unusually gentle with him and, likely, the others because they’re foals. Between that and the subdermal mesh making him exceedingly tough he just doesn’t get much from it.

The highlight of the experience is when Glacial accidentally lets a toot slip out unexpectedly. She tried to play it cool, but between Drift’s snorted giggle and the way everypony’s ears all swiveled in her direction at the same time it was pretty obvious exactly what happened.

“Don’t worry, Glacial. Better out than in, I always say,” he teases. He instantly regrets it a little when not only do his friends burst out laughing, so do half of the massage ponies.

Thankfully, one of them adds her two bits to the situation saying, “I wouldn’t feel bad about it, honey. It happens all the time. We aren’t doin our jobs right if we don’t get farted on at least once a day.”

It still doesn’t help much, sadly, and the platinum filly glows with a pink hue the remainder of the massage. Just as they’re leaving the area Cure gets a Sending from his mom with news that he’d expected at some point in the day.

<< I couldn’t reach you earlier. We’re in Baltimare on our way to the show. Lemon and Amy came by. They’ve officially asked to join families. We’ve tentatively said yes, but we’ll need to talk about the whole princess thing, amongst other topics, before it’s official. >>

<< Congrats, ma! I have no objections as long as they’re aware of all the shit we’ve got going on. I’ll have to give them the memory talk at some point if they are still onboard. >>

<< Thanks, babe. They didn’t know about the show, but they’ll be coming back later and spending the night. >>

Thankfully alcohol laws aren’t nearly as stupid and inflexible as it is in humanlandia, or at least as in most of the US. Cure pretty easily convinced Solar to allow him and his friends to buy a bottle of sparkling wine and do a toast in honor of the families joining.

It was a little surprising that it was allowed given their ages. The legal drinking age for beer and wine in Equestria is fifteen. Hard liquor requires adulthood, so unmarked have to wait until eighteen to get totally hammered.

Technically, Solar had to make the purchase, but the staff gave exactly zero shits in reality. They didn’t bat an eye when asked to bring eleven small glasses with the bottle, not that slightly under seventy-five milliliters of bubbly is going to bother even Dawn, arguably the least hardy amongst the group.

Cure spent most of the rest of his time at the spa snuggling with various friends in their private relaxation area, occasionally piddling about in the bath before hopping out, rinsing off, and laying back down. The crew all had a good time and enjoyed the experience, though by the end of the third hour the novelty began to wear off and everypony was ready to head to dinner.

Solar paid the bill since there was, again, an alcohol purchase involved. A few of the foals that hadn’t been around gaped when Cure pulled out a couple thousand bit coins to pass to the young stallion.

Starlight’s ability to be surprised by the colt had clearly taken a hit, but even she was struggling to keep herself from lifting him up to see exactly where he pulled the coins out of.

The way he had his spatial bit pouch set up made it look like he was pulling coins out of his belly button. It wasn’t intentional, but from anywhere but the side it looked like he was pulling the coins out of his sheath. Rather than explain he just shot the young mare a sly wink while smirking.

Cure doesn’t make it home until a little after sunset. The group had gone to dinner at a normal restaurant; the more expensive, fancier places would have largely been a waste on the group of foals and they were all incredibly busy anyhow, given the holiday.

They stopped at Dawn’s for barely a moment so he and Heavy could go back to normal, then he escorted everypony home in a circle, starting with Rising. By the time he wished Delta Coast goodnight and gave her a quick nuzzle he felt completely worn out and was looking forward to collapsing at home.

It felt odd coming home to an empty house, especially with all of the lights turned off and no candles or lamps lit. Feeling a little anxious and vulnerable, Cure quickly makes his way upstairs and hooks into his home defense plant in his bedroom. He merges the thin, widely dispersed vines into a dozen thicker, stronger vines that are barely more than hoof-diameter tentacles.

With a two meter tall horn column in the middle of his room he can see the entire house and a couple hundred meters in every direction. Movement headed towards the front of his house startles him, causing a variety of airguns and dart launchers to quickly form, all of which are immediately pointed at the target, then turned away when he realizes who it is.

With a fond smile Cure watches as Ferric, using the light crystal he’d given her the night of his big reveal, sneaks up to his house. She’s got a long box on her back, laying diagonally over her left shoulder clear back past her right flank. She carefully sets the package in front of the door, knocks once, and immediately bolts back off towards her home. Giggling at the shy filly’s antics he turns on a light and unplugs himself, making his way to the door.

When he opens it he can barely make out her head poked around a tree a few houses down, far enough he wouldn’t have any hope of spotting her without his ridiculously improved eyes. Doing his best to mime surprise, he picks up the long, tied shut box, makes a show of looking around, and carries it inside, kicking the door shut.

The box has some decent weight to it, which is unsurprising given she is a blacksmith. Unable to contain his curiosity, he opens the box to find an unexpectedly lovely surprise. The gift she presumably made him, though he suspects she had help, has two parts. The first is a staff, nearly identical to the one on his mark.

Like his mark, it’s a plain staff, though the entire unit seems to be a single piece of metal with runic markings down the meter length and a spot for a crystal in the crown. It’s a beautiful staff and, judging by its weight, would be a formidable weapon in trained hooves.

The other part is a stand; the design of which makes him wonder which piece the filly put more effort into crafting. It has a heavy, thick base from which spirals up a snake, looping exactly three times before ending in a snake’s head at the top. The base has a short, metal vase, essentially, that the tip of the staff slides into perfectly and each part where the snake passes by has a half-loop to hold it upright.

The entire piece is simply fantastic and Cure can’t fathom how much work the filly must have put into it. Neither he nor Ed have any smithing knowledge, but he could easily see the immense amount of effort she must have poured into the set, whether her mark made it easier or not. He decides it would be more appropriate if he thanks her in pony instead of via Sending.

Caught staring at the piece, he almost jumps out of his coat, popping his horn out and spinning to face the door when he hears a knock. Seated only a couple meters away from the door, the aura penetrates enough to make out Amethyst on the other side with Lemon and the girls in tow.

“Come on in, Amy,” he yells, floating the unit by the stairs as the four make their way in. “Hey everypony, I hear congratulations are in order,” smiling broadly he belatedly adds, “moms.”

“HA! Them Sendin crystals sure are useful, colt,” she says, trotting over to wrap him in a hug. “Thanks a bunch, Cure, but ya don’t gotta call me ma if ya don’t wanna,” she insists, letting him go.

The fillies look pretty worn out and, after giving him a couple quick nuzzles, make their way to the toy chest to borrow a couple of Savvy’s plushies to play with.

Cure had spent an afternoon working with Lotus and was quickly able to eliminate the girl’s speech impediment. He’d rolled onto his back, rocking side to side as he held her against his chest, singing Row Row Row Your Boat with her. He was able to monitor and make minute changes to the nerve impulses firing in her tongue on the R sound, eliminating the mispronunciation.

It didn’t take more than a few verses before he was able to, essentially, hijack her system and make her tongue move the right way to properly produce consonant sounds. Of course the sing-along didn’t stop for a while after, even if a small break was necessary when her excited dam joined the pile hugging and kissing all over the pair.

“Yeah, honey,” Lemon agrees. “We know you’re a little on the older side for that. It’s okay if it would be a little too forced.”

Approaching the yellow mare for a hug, he says, “I’ll at least make an effort. You’ll be my moms a whole lot longer than not in the grand scheme of things.” The two separate as Cure levitates his gift closer to his mat to show off as the mares flop on Vines’ cushion together. Beaming, the colt can’t help but gush as he tells the two about it.

“Got yerself quite the herd, donchya son?”

Unable to hold back the sigh, he agrees explaining, “Yeah. I mean, I’m not trying to… I dunno, win their hearts or anything. I’m really just trying to be a good friend,” he says as the mares nod along. “Dawn said she would try to be more understanding months ago but she’s definitely struggling with jealousy whenever the girls are affectionate.”

“Eh, that’s just how unicorn culture is, Cure. I’m sure your moms have told you it’s not really the stallion’s role to deal with that. The girls’ll have to talk it out if you all end up in a relationship eventually.” With a shrug Lemon adds, “Stars, that’s how we ended up here, after all.”

“Ya got that right, Sweets,” Amethyst agrees with a quick peck on her cheek. Facing the colt she says, “Yer dam thought we could all get along so she talked to us about tryin.” With a haughty look she polishes her hoof on her chest and continues, “Yer sire took one look at this magnificent beauty and couldn’t help but agree, of course.”

“Well duh, obviously,” Cure agrees as if there could be any other possible result.

“Exactly,” she nods with a proud smile, “we all clicked, and now we’re ready to take the next step.”

“Well Amy, Lemon… I kinda figured we would have this talk tomorrow. I dunno what time my parents will be home. One sec.”

<< Hey ma, sorry to interrupt your evening. Amy and Lemon are here. Will you be home soon? >>

<< It’s fine, babe. We missed the seven o’clock train, so we’ll be a while still. We’re at the station now, waiting. >>

“Sounds like they’ll be a while. Did they tell you about the possibility of me moving to Canterlot sometime in the next year or two?”

“Yer sire said y’all may hafta relocate. I don’t have much’a anythin holdin me here cept Sweet’s shop.”

The yellow mare nods in agreement adding, “Yeah and having my own shop in the capital is a dream come true! I’m a little worried about the competition there but I’m sure I can make it.”

“I don’t have a problem supporting the family until everypony can get established,” Cure explains. “Not counting what I’ve set aside based on the estimate of my taxes, I already have over seventy grand in the bank.

“I’m assuming my parents have some saved up but I’ve never asked,” he continues despite the pair looking like they’re struggling to breathe. “Between the tax rebates and the higher income levels in the capital I’ll probably be making quite a bit more, so there’s certainly not any urgency for you to start turning a profit.”

After a moment of silence the two share a look. The only response Amethyst can muster is a thoughtful, “Huh.”

“We do have some savings, Cure,” Lemon starts, “and the candy bar ideas you’ve shared have really helped business pick up.”

“Yep, my Sweet’s been talkin ‘bout hirin somepony fer the desk so she can focus on her craft,” Amethyst supplies.

“Mmhmm, and the rent and referral bits you toss my way help more than you’d think, not to mention the happy customers leaving your shop and going wild buying candy to celebrate on the way out.”

“Meh, two or three a day isn’t much,” he argues.

“It’s an extra twenty to sixty bits I won’t say no to,” she points out.

“True.”

“So yeah, if we all end up moving it won’t be a huge problem.”

“Great. There’s only one other big hurdle then,” he says as he casts a Sound Bubble. The move draws raised brows from the two when the noise from the girls’ idle chatter and playing cuts out.

“I’m about to trust you with something that literally nopony but my parents know. I won’t ask for oaths or anything because you’ve both proven plenty trustworthy over the whole biomanipulation thing.”

He pauses until he gets understanding nods from the pair. “Shortly after my eighth birthday I started, for lack of a better term, remembering things. Imagine you wake up one day and, in addition to your memories you also have somepony else’s crammed in your brain.”

“Did you get seen by somepony? That sounds terrifying!” Lemon shouts.

A look of realization crosses Amethyst’s face. “This is why ya been so different since I was sick.”

“Yes, Amy. No, Lemon, I don’t think getting seen would have helped. Likely quite the opposite.”

“Why? It sounds like somepony attacked a foal to me!” Her reaction is more animated than Cure expected. The idea obviously gets her hackles up, as adorable as it seems coming from the adorable candy mare. “The Guard coulda maybe found them!”

“The memories weren’t from a pony,” he flatly answers, then holds up a hoof to stall the follow-up question. “They weren’t from any creature on this planet. They were the cumulative lifetime memories of a bipedal, vaguely apelike creature called a human from a completely different world.”

The mares trade uneasy looks, both frowning in thought. After a moment of contemplation Amethyst asks, “How long of a lifetime?”

“Edward Weaver died at forty-seven years and nine months old from a virus that destroyed his respiratory system.” Cure can’t quite hold back the tear that streaks down his cheek. “His wife preceded him in death, also from the virus, less than a day prior. His world was struggling against a global pandemic that, at that point, had killed a little under a million humans.”

Both gasp at the number before he clarifies, “A million sounds high, and it is, but their population numbers were insanely high compared to Equestria and, really, this entire planet. There were nearly eight billion, with a B, humans at the time of his death.”

Once again the mares pause for a moment to let it all sink in. All three glance over to the girls who are now using the plushies as characters in a play or something.

“Yer cutie mark, the trees, that way ya talk… all’a that is ‘cause of the memories, ain’t it?”

“Yes, probably. The lawyers we spoke to made a comment about trauma contributing to what mark a pony ends up with. As I’m sure you can imagine, having those memories, especially his wife’s death, shoved in my head had an impact.”

“Does dying hurt?” Lemon softly, near reverently asks. Amethyst shoots her a scolding look.

“Dying while hacking your lungs up sick as a dog does. Not as much as watching your wife of twenty years die, though. Even if it’s a different kinda hurt,” he solemnly admits.

Amethyst, laid on her barrel, holds her forelegs out for a hug. Happily accepting the invitation, Cure climbs off his mat, walks between them, and turns, collapsing with his back against her chest as she wraps him up and pulls him between the two, half turning onto her side at the same time.

After several minutes of being the target of snuggles, nuzzles, and a few grooming licks he sighs contently between the two.

Breaking the silence, Amethyst asks, “Ya don’t really think of yerself as a colt, do ya?”

“I try to be. For my dam, more than anything,” he admits. “It’s not easy to act like a foal when you have almost thirty years of adult memories in your head.”

“I bet not,” Lemon agrees. “Hey, wait, is that where the candy ideas came from?”

“Yup. Ed loved PayDays and caramel is my favorite too.”

“Huh… no wonder you already had a name ready for each one. It seemed so weird coming from a colt with a healing cutie mark. Sweet Celestia! No wonder you have such great business ideas!” she finishes in a shout.

“That’s just the tip of the iceberg, Lemon. Technologically humans were between one and three centuries ahead of ponies. They had absolutely no magic though… or if some did they kept it secret.

“I’m confident our worlds are linked, though, because there’s sooooo many similarities. City names, animals, plants, languages, not to mention they had a form of entertainment where one of the stories had so much in common with this world it couldn’t possibly be coincidence.”

“Yeah?” she curiously asks.

“Yup. The setting was a magical land of ponies, ruled by the benevolent monarch, Princess Celestia. The ponies looked a lot different from us, but that can be chalked up to the target demographic of the show. It was aimed mainly at young girls and the main theme was that friendship is magic.”

“That’s weird as Tartarus,” Amethyst says with furrowed brows. “And I’m amazed yer parents did’n freak out when ya told ‘em.”

“I think the fact I was bawling my eyes out helped distract them, but they did a little,” he confirms. “I was able to convince them I’m not nuts. I mean… an overly elaborate lie is way, way harder to come up with. Besides, it’s not like I don’t have my memories too.”

Lemon tilts her head curiously and asks, “And you have no idea what caused it?”

“Nope. I think it may be because dam had me right when the princess was raising the sun just over in Baltimare. That doesn’t explain why it’s never happened before. I’m sure over the centuries I’m not the first foal born at that exact time. Or why it took eight years for the memories to return. I could see if she was here again last year, but she wasn’t. I don’t even know where she was last time.”

“Dunno,” Amethyst says.

“Somewhere on the west coast. Was it Las Pegasus, babe?”

“Sounds right,” Amethyst gives her an unsure half-shrug.

“Well whatever caused it, I’m just glad you actually believe me and aren’t freaking out.”

“Ain’t no sense losin my mind over somethin that happened seven months ago,” Amethyst points out. “’Sides, all’a the evidence lines up with what yer sayin. Ya obviously know more’n a normal foal oughta, strange as it all is. It don’t seem all that much stranger’n mosta the shit I heard some of them unicorns can do.”

“Except the show part,” Lemon agrees. “That’s bizarre.”

“Yeah, well, I’ve heard dreams wistfully described as peeking into another realm,” Cure explains. “The only explanation I have is that, somehow, that’s more-or-less what happened. Some human dreamed about our world, or one like it, and thought we were cute enough to make a little girl’s show about it.”

“Huh. That’s a lot to take in, Cure.”

He leans over and gives the yellow mare a nuzzle, nodding into her side. “It is. I know. Talk to me like an adult if you want to. I don’t mind. Just please, be patient with me. Sometimes the colt brain does take over. Especially when I’m tired or emotional.”

She leans down and returns the affections. “I think we can do that, honey.”

“Cool. Now that you’re all sworn in, who wants to see the really fucked up shit I’ve made like the giant alicorn body and home defense tentacle mega unicorn plant?”

Once again the mares find themselves trading looks, though this time out of wariness about what exactly they’ve signed up for.

Author's Note

I couldn't help but notice the like/dislike thing was at 666 and 32. Is it weird that some OCD part of my brain is almost hoping someone comes along and hits dislike just so the numbers look right?

So, I know Cure's comments to Solar and Starlight may seem offputting, that's more or less how anyone in a medical field has to act. They may not say it out loud to people that aren't in the know, but I can guarantee you that after the X'th vagina, barring something REALLY weird, a gynecologist might as well be looking at an elbow. Even your family doctor has seen all that shit enough times that it's completely mundane.

Also, just like his family was, I accept that it may seem really, really weird that Amethyst and Lemon are just rolling with the whole memory thing. Honestly, I think their reactions are better than I wrote for the fam's, but either way these are creatures living in a magical world where nothing is impossible.

Despite there being exactly ZERO real evidence of magic, if you'd asked folks if it was possible a hundred years ago I bet you'd be shocked at how many would say yes. Hell, you'd probably be surprised how many people still think that's the case. These are all creatures living in a world where magic is a fundamental part of life, so something that would throw our world into chaos will barely get a "Huh, that's new" from them.

I'm super pressed for time. I tried reading through this several times to find typos but I'm a little concerned more may have slipped by than normal. Now that I've put that in print it'll probably be the first typo-free chapter ever, but hey, who knows? Anyhow, it was either publish now or wait until tomorrow, so I figured screw it.

Thanks for reading, folks.

Chapter 58: Sparks Fly

Something has gone wrong. We don't seem to have an archived copy of that chapter.

Chapter 59: I Come Bearing Gifts

Wednesday, April 29th, 909 AB (18 days later)
Location: Baltimare railway station
Later Afternoon / Early Evening

Barely holding back a yawn, Heavy watches as a dozen thick, deep red shrubs are loaded onto the train. Each one is as tall as an earth pony at the eyes and, judging by the workers’ surprised looks when they lift them, heavier than a normal plant should be.

Cure and his dam had already loaded his antivirus trees themselves, so the purpose of the other twelve isn’t clear. The fillies don’t seem to know what the story is with them; not even Dawn, which is strange since she’s usually aware of whatever crazy thing Cure has come up with.

“Those aren’t the antivirus trees,” Glacial notes. “Why are there so many of them anyhow?”

“Dunno,” Dawn answers with a shrug. “He said they’re ‘Cure shrubs’ but didn’t explain how they work.”

Rising stares for a few more seconds before pointing out, “But they don’t have any fruit on them. I know it sounds silly, but they look a little… scary, almost.”

“It’s Cure. They’re probably some kind of guard tree or something,” Drift suggests. “Or they’re the actual virus trees and the others are decoys. You know he’s paranoid as Tartarus. He probably thinks somepony will try to steal them again. Or maybe those antivirus ones are some kind of trap and the shrubs are the real ones.”

“Trap?” Starlight asks.

Drift shrugs her wings and gives the young mare a nod. “I bet the fruits are some kinda poison that paralyzes you or makes you pass out.” With a snorted laugh she adds, “Or makes you poop yourself. That sounds like something he would do.”

The suggestion gets a round of giggles from the group and even Solar agrees with her. “I’m betting on paralysis just because he would be really ticked off somepony were to get poop on his tree.”

“Plus he would want to… question them,” Dawn adds, cringing at the same time. There’s a moment of silence among the group where they envision what being questioned by Cure would be like after being caught trying to steal another one of his trees. The collective full body shudders tell Heavy that they all came to roughly the same conclusion: Unpleasant.

“But why are there so many of them?” Glacial asks again. “And they look heavy, too.”

Sadly, no answer is forthcoming, so the group continues watching as the blue colt follows the loading attendants on the train, probably to make sure nopony messes with anything. Their confusion only grows when, as soon as the workers leave, they see him running a wire of some kind. Only the pegasi can really see what he’s doing.

Glacial is a little concerned; he seems to be, somehow, cutting a small hole in each car. He disappears inside the car for a minute, then runs back out, hooking the wire up to the previous car. The wires must be vines of some kind because once they’re connected he makes them each run down and under the platforms between cars so they’re out of sight. As far as she knows he can’t do that with anything but plants.

She tells the group, “He looks like he’s putting some kind of vine or cord between each of the cars. Dawn, what’s he doing that for?”

“It could be anything,” she says. “Drift’s probably right though. It’s more than likely a trap of some kind. I bet he can sense everything through those somehow.”

They watch for a while as Cure moves from car to car, wiring up the last eight cars of the train. Once he’s done with the last one he hops down off the train and approaches the group. They had all they needed in their saddlebags, double checked by parents before they took the train from Golden Hills, so nopony needed anything loaded.

It was interesting to Heavy to see how each family said goodbye. Granted they’ll be back in a few days, but for most of them this was the first time the foals would be away from their parents aside from a sleepover at a friend’s house.

The pegasi, matching up perfectly with their flighty stereotype, quickly gave the three a nuzzle and were taking off for home not ten seconds later. The parents were probably already home before the group even boarded the train to Baltimare. It struck Heavy as a little weird that they didn’t just fly here to have the extra few minutes of together time, but that’s just how most pegasi are, he figures. Traveling is just part of life, his mom says, and as long as you’re careful it’ll all work out.

The single parents on the other hoof… they were a little more clingy and doting. Coast, Ferric, and Rising’s dams all but chased after the train just to have a few seconds more to say goodbye. It seemed a little overly dramatic and silly to the gray colt, but he supposes that’s just normal when a mare only has one child to pour all their love into.

Of course Sapphire’s parents weren’t like that. From the way her sire was eyeing her dam’s rear, Heavy suspects they’re kinda glad to have some time to themselves. He can’t blame them. Sapphire is nice enough, but she can be a little much at times, too.

His and Dawn’s parents were basically an average of the group. Emerald looked a little sad even if she didn’t cry this time. At least she can take solace in the fact that two adults are going with her little filly. In fact, Solar is a certified guard now, so in a way Dawn has a legitimate military escort. Starlight is coming too, but Heavy isn’t terribly confident in her capabilities as a bodyguard.

His own parents gave him what he feels is the appropriate amount of affection. Then they insisted he give his sisters some love and said their goodbyes with one more round of hugs and kisses before letting the colt escape with his masculinity intact. No crying, no chasing the train, and no other silliness, thank Celestia.

As Cure gets close to the group he calls out, waving them closer. Unsure exactly where they’re supposed to be, everypony makes their way to the colt hoping for some clue as to what’s going on. “Hey everypony,” he greets. “Why aren’t you all on the train already? Everypony but my mom… Title, I mean, is onboard.” He pauses and looks around, asking “Where the hay is she anyhow?”

“Savvy had to go potty,” Dawn answers. “She took her on the train a little bit ago.”

“What?” he asks, looking around confused. “Damn I guess she walked right past me. Whatever, let’s go.”

Drift doesn’t hesitate to huff in annoyance at him. “You never told us what car or cab we’re in, doofus! How were we supposed to know where we’re even supposed to be?!”

“That’s what my mom was supposed to be doing!” he shouts in exasperation. “Besides, we don’t have any cabs-”

“WHAT?!” she shrieks, cutting him off mid sentence. The yell startles everypony around her, including her sister who scowls at the shorter girl and cuffs her with a wing.

Heavy almost takes a step back at the fury that briefly flashes across Cure’s face. His gaze never leaving the purple filly, he points a hoof behind himself at the second to last car of the train and, through gritted teeth, growls back, “We don’t have a cab because I paid for the entire frickin luxury car!”

The explanation hits Drift like a boulder and, under his blistering glare, she wilts with barely a mumbled “oh” before slinking in a wide arc around him and quickly boarding the train. The car Cure apparently rented doesn’t have doors for boarding and unboarding, so she has to get on the train several cars forward from it, the same as the attendants that were loading his plants.

Nopony else moves a muscle until he lets out a sigh and hangs his head. “I’m sorry. I didn’t get enough sleep last night. Nerves, ya know? I’ll apologize to her too. Let’s try to have a good time, everypony. I promise I’ll be fine once I get some sleep. A big ol snuggle pile will do the trick, I bet.”

Ferric, shockingly, moves before anypony else. In a bold move none of them expect from the shy filly, she walks up to the exhausted looking colt, gives him a long nuzzle from his snout all the way behind his ears, then wraps him in a tight hug. Cure seems to almost melt into the embrace which is quickly joined by all the other fillies that have an interest in him.

Heavy figured Sapphire would have joined in, too, but instead she’s just watching with an odd smile he can’t place. The girl is a bit weird most of the time, so that’s not a huge surprise.

“Thanks, ladies,” Cure sighs out, nuzzling each in turn. As the pile breaks up he tilts his head towards their car and says, “Well, all aboard, I suppose. The car is really nice. I think you’ll all be suitably impressed. Not as nice as the hotel will be, though,” he adds with a mischievous grin. “Sorry, Team Double-S,” he says to Solar and Starlight, “there’s no private bedrooms on this car, just a thin divider and drawn curtains. You’ll have to hold it in until tomorrow.”

“I think we’ll get by okay,” Solar deadpans, ignoring Starlight’s faux disappointed look.

Title pokes her head out of the train and shoots Cure a sheepish smile explaining, “Sorry, babe. Savvy had to potty and I kinda forgot to tell your friends where to go.” Cure lets out another sigh as he turns and heads in.

The small herd follows Cure as he leads them onto the train. The first car they get on is some kind of lounging car with small couches and tables all on one side so the opposite is clear for everypony to make their way to the back of the train. The next two are sleeper cars with cabs lining the left side (when facing the rear of the train) and a hallway down the right. Next is the private luxury car Cure rented, then the final car of the train is for storage and luggage.

Glacial notices the vine Cure had put up subtly crammed into the top corners of the cars. It runs the full length of the hallway and its color is altered to blend in, making it barely noticeable. “Cure… what were you doing?” she asks, pointing a wing up at a length of it.

“It’s a security system,” he explains. “I was hooking up the cars so I can tell what’s going on if anything weird happens. Since they’re made of metal the unicorn targeting aura doesn’t penetrate at all. I’m betting whoever took my trees will try again, ya know?”

She looks up towards the corner of the car where the cord enters and asks, “It looks like you cut holes in cars though… won’t they notice that after we leave?”

“I doubt it,” he says as they approach the luxury car. “I plan on fixing it when we arrive in Canterlot anyhow. The metal I removed is still hanging up there and I sealed the area around the cord with a glue-like substance, so it’s not like it’ll leak. When I take it down I’ll just hit it all with a Mending. They’ll be good as new,” he insists, opening the door to the car he rented and waving everypony in.

The sharp intake of breaths can be heard as the foals get their first look at the luxury car. Towards the front of the car is a set of bathrooms, one more compact than the other. The larger one looks big enough for a huge earth pony, though it would be awfully cramped. After the bathrooms is a tiny kitchen area with a sink, a compact refrigerator, and a few basic things like a toaster and tea kettle. Next is a storage closet-like area with Cure’s two antiviral creations taking up most of the space.

After passing by the “utility” area the car looks like a fancy studio apartment. The walls are covered in ornate wood paneling. Thick, rich drapes are pulled back to reveal the large windows. The floor is even carpeted, and just one step on it reveals it to be as soft as a cloud. The car has extravagantly furnished sections for, from front to back, dining, lounging, and sleeping.

The dining area won’t be quite large enough for everypony at once given the size of the group. Two tables each have room for six foals or four adults comfortably. A bench is folded up on each side of the table that, when lowered, gives foals or shorter pegasi a boost up.

The lounging area has couches against the side walls and end tables between them for drinks or plates to sit on. The couches are aligned with the windows so passengers can comfortably sit and enjoy the passing scenery.

The sleeping area will be a little cramped, unfortunately. Again, the luxury car is designed for a family, but with ten older foals, two young fillies, seven adults, and one infant the capacity of the four beds will be fully utilized. All of the beds are on the left side of the train and, as Cure explained, are little more than a closet with a small area to walk in, a bed, and a curtain for a door.

The beds are barely large enough for three adult earth ponies. Deed, Vines, and Title will take one with Savvy’s crib, Starlight, Solar, Dawn, and a couple of the girls will share another, then Lemon and Amethyst and their daughters will be in the third, and all of the remaining foals will pile together in the last.

It’ll be snug, but sleeping in a big pile is not a problem for ponies.

Cure’s parents have already made themselves comfortable in the lounging area. His sire is laying across his dam’s withers protectively, cheek pressed lovingly against the top of her head. The other three mares are cuddled together reading on the next couch over, each with a glass of wine between their forelegs. Cure’s sisters are entertaining themselves and Savvy with some of the dolls he made for them.

Finding Drift on a couch staring out a window by herself, Cure immediately hops up next to her, wraps her in a hug, and, Heavy assumes, apologizes for snapping at her while nuzzling into her cheek. As far as the gray colt is concerned she’s as or more guilty; she did interrupt him before he even finished explaining, after all. Regardless of who’s at fault the pair seem to make up quickly enough and, within a few minutes everypony is running around the car checking out every nook and cranny.

Heavy notices that, just like the previous cars, the vine Cure puts up comes in, runs along the top corner of the ceiling, but then trails down the wall and into one of the shrubs that were loaded. Looking around, it occurs to him that four of the plants are completely gone; their empty pots are stacked in the closet with his antiviral trees.

After about half an hour Cure hops up onto a couch and whistles to get everypony’s attention. Once the group gathers close enough to hear him he explains, “Alright, everypony. The attendants said we’ll be departing in about two hours. We get to board early because,” he waves around at the car, “you know. Throw enough money at ‘em and they’ll let ya do almost anything.

“Any food or drinks you all could want are part of the price for the car and we can be served whenever we want. I arranged for dinner to be served here, that’s why we didn’t stop for food on the way. If, later, you decide you want a snack or you’d like to sample something all you have to do is tap that ‘Service’ panel up by the door and order it,” he explains, pointing back from where they had all come when boarding. “I prepaid for gratuities, so you don’t need to tip either. Just be nice to the ponies who’ll be bringing us our food, please.”

“What’s with the plants?” Coast asks, motioning with her head to the one beside Cure. It’s the same one that the vine from the other cars runs into.

“Ah… I’m glad you asked,” he starts, idly scratching at his chin with his left hoof. “So, as many of you may have noticed, I like to be prepared for any eventuality.”

Title gently interrupts. “He’s paranoid as fudge and thinks somepony will try something.”

Cure scowls at his mother but doesn’t deny it. Huffing, he turns back to the group and begrudgingly nods. “Frankly I explored other ways to travel to the capital but I didn’t want to show off anything too crazy before I had my meeting. I could get us there faster and cheaper by other means but they would draw significantly more attention.”

“More than a luxury train car full of foals?” Solar asks.

“Like ya wouldn’t believe, son,” Deed answers with a wry chuckle.

Everypony looks curiously back to the colt but he just shakes his head no. “I promise I’ll share more later, but as far as the plants are concerned I can use my talent on them much more freely than I can other things. I can use them to make…” he pauses, gaining a far off look momentarily, “anything, basically. Anything organic, at least. I’ll show you,” he offers, placing a hoof on the plant.

Everypony watches in fascination as he withdraws his hoof holding a mass of vines. They quickly morph into a square, then seem to stretch into a sheet that, once he holds up, looks nearly twice as long and three times as wide as he is. A thick layer of furry fluff grows out of the sheet on both sides, then the colors change to match Ferric’s dark red coat before the center changes to a large black shield with a duplicate of her mark covering most of the surface.

He folds the blanket up and passes it to the blushing filly with a quiet “Milady” and a slight bow. “That took about a quarter liter of compressed mass,” he explains, standing back up. “Each plant probably has enough to do about a couple hundred of those. They’re compact and heavy, so a smallish plant can expand quite a bit when I’m making something soft and fluffy like that.

“I’m fully expecting somepony to try to either stop me from getting to Canterlot or to either steal or destroy the antivirus trees. Though, given I’ve shown I can make more I don’t see what the point would be. With these shrubs here I can just make another or use the mass for other purposes. The vines you saw me hanging up, for example.

“Those’ll let me see what’s going on in the hallways six cars ahead, that way if anypony suspicious comes this way I’ll know about it. That vine is a little different than the rest; there’s a copper wire running through it, so even though the end of it is like… a hundred and fifty meters away I can tell what’s going on instantly.”

Ferric’s eyes widen at the statement. “Where did you get a hundred and fifty meters of copper?”

“Transmutation, just like the crystal I gave you. I made a spool of calcium thread, basically, and transmuted it to copper. It hadn’t occurred to me that copper is a lot denser, so the first time I did it I ended up with a spool of floss, basically. I guess the scraps we were playing with were close enough to steel that I didn’t notice. Once I got the size right it only took a few days to make enough that I could, in theory, wire the whole train. That seems like overkill, though.”

Rising looks around worriedly. “Are we safe?”

“Oh of course you’re safe,” he assures her. “That’s what the shrubs are here for. Well, one reason at least. Regardless, the plants are just extra biological mass, basically, that I can use for anything. Mostly these are coming with us for me to use in one of my meetings. I’ll tell you all a little more in the morning.”

“Why the morning?” Wind asks.

“I… guess I could give you all the choice, but I can already guess what’s going to happen.” He pauses and looks at his parents. “Do you think I should tell them? I’m worried they won’t sleep as well.”

Vines is the first to answer. “I think it would be best to wait until the morning, honey.” One by one each parent voices the same opinion.

“Most of us already know anyhow,” Dawn says.

“No you don’t. I have one more surprise. I agree with my parents; that will stay a surprise for now.”

“Beyond the meeting you told us about?” Glacial asks.

He immediately answers with a nod. “Yes. I guess I can tell you all about that. I think Heavy, Ferric, and Saph are the only ones not in the loop there.”

The three named foals all frown at being left out.

Starlight speaks up saying, “I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

“Well we don’t exactly hang out much,” Cure points out. He makes eye contact with the three and explains, “Dawn found out because of her sire. Coast and RP just happened to be present when I was discussing it with my parents. The pegasi found out when I slipped and inadvertently mentioned it, so don’t be upset… I wanted to surprise you all, but the pony I’m taking those trees to -”

“The princess?” Heavy and Ferric ask at the same time, then share a look.

“Weird… I didn’t know colts could do that too,” Cure mumbles, rubbing at his chin again while staring at Heavy.

“What, dude? I figured when you mentioned burning a letter after your trees were stolen,” the gray colt explains. Ferric nods indicating the same.

“We’re meeting Princess Celestia?!” Sapphire asks in a shout. “Why didn’t you tell me?! I didn’t bring any of my jewelry!” The whole time she’s yelling she’s becoming more frantic.

Cure doesn’t seem to know how to answer. “I… what? Why would you need it?”

“You have to look your best when meeting the princess!” she insists, waving her forehooves dramatically.

Cure looks confusedly at the rest of the foals, seemingly trying to find an explanation somewhere. Ferric meets his eyes and mouths “her dam” as an explanation. Apparently Midnight Gem is one of those ponies that thinks a pony is more important when they’re covered in fancy jewelry. Odd given the girl doesn’t usually wear anything special.

Finally he settles on, in his mind, an obvious point. “I really don’t think the princess is going to care if you meet her without any jewelry on. Other than her crown and peytral she doesn’t even wear any.”

She starts to object, stuttering, “But… but…” before her sister hugs her from the side.

“It’s okay, sis. None of us have anything either.”

“Right,” Cure agrees. “Besides, it would be weirder if you were the only one decked out and we’re all strolling in there naked.”

“I… guess,” she begrudgingly acknowledges, calming down while she leans against her sister’s chest.

Starlight scrunches her muzzle and admits, “I kinda wouldn’t have minded knowing just so I could bring something.”

“Why?” he asks. “We’re talking about a one to two millennium old monarch that controls the sun here. Do you have anything that she hasn’t seen a thousand times?”

Starlight hesitates in thought for a moment. “I guess not,” she finally agrees with a sigh.

“It’s the thought, Cure,” Title says. “They just want to look nice for her highness.” When Cure shrugs uncomprehending she rolls her eyes and explains to the two, “He’s right. She doesn’t seem to care about that stuff. We spoke with her briefly once a few months back and, like he said, the only thing she had on was her crown and peytral, and those are just symbols for her station. She didn’t even have fancy shoes on.”

Sadly, Title’s explanation just raises more questions about when and how they’d met, so after a retelling of the events, which focused on Cure’s prank more than Deed felt necessary, Cure finishes his talk encouraging everypony to look at the menus and figure out what they want for dinner.

Despite the kitchen for the general public not being available he’d paid extra for early access specifically so he could get everypony situated and his plants loaded well in advance of general boarding. With little else to do Cure and the other foals place their food orders, then relax and creature watch as others gather to board the train.

Cure has a difficult time not heading out to the platform and setting up a stand; in addition to the several dozens of ponies, numerous non-pony creatures are gathering to go to the capital. The train allows advanced boarding, typically, an hour before departure and general boarding starting thirty minutes beforehoof. By the time that is drawing near he’s seen no less than a dozen griffons, ten minotaurs, over twenty zebras, and even a single female dragon.

He doesn’t particularly care for her yellow coloration, but that aside he’s struggling not to run out there and make his sales pitch to the young dragoness. He had learned from his parents that, as he guessed on his first trip to Canterlot, all dragons are quadrupedal in this world. They can, however, stand on their hind legs fairly well by using their wings and thick, heavy tails as counterweights, but walking while upright is difficult for them.

He was so tired and anxious on his last trip to the capital that he didn’t even pay attention to the other passengers. He makes a mental note to add the train station to his list of potential non-pony scanning locations.

He also catches sight of a group of familiar looking ponies moving through the crowd. He turns to look at his sire who, after a moment, feels Cure’s eyes on him. When he looks up to meet the colt’s look Cure gives him a subtle nod to tell him their security team has arrived.

“Hey dad, what do you think the odds are I could meet with some of those other creatures at breakfast? There’s a female dragon out there; a young one I’m guessing, at least based on her size. Think she’d let me scan her if I promised to make her scales brighter or something? She’s already yellow so I could make her look like a big ‘ol golden statue. Bet she’d like that.”

Caught off guard from the unexpected question, Deed looks unsure at the colt. “Umm… probably? I dunno what dragons find attractive, champ. I would assume she would like that, but I dunno. I’m sure she won’t bite ya for askin.”

“Sweet!”

“Why…” Dawn starts, then realization sets in. “Oh… scales?”

“Nerves and bones too,” he answers with a nod. “I’m also curious about the fire breathing, but I suspect that’s magic.”

“Dragons have magic?” Drift asks.

“Not like unicorns,” Solar explains, “but their fire breath does have magical properties. That’s something we trade for with them.” The young stallion looks out the window and asks, “Did the princess tell you she’s sending guards?”

Cure turns to look back out and spots a three guard team making their way through the now boarding crowd; a member of each tribe and all mares. “No, but the more security the merrier. Do you recognize them?”

“There’s like three hundred guards in this city, dude. Hay, they may even be from Canterlot. Or maybe they’re just train security.”

“I guess. I figured train security would have been on the train already though. Honestly I didn’t even know trains had actual guards as security.”

“Routes between major metros do,” he confirms.

“Huh. Well the more you know,” Cure says, trailing off.

A knock at the door draws everypony’s attention. “Food’s here,” Solar says, trotting to the door to greet the server. Cure watches as he speaks to the worker for a moment then pulls the food-laden cart into the room and closes the door. He wheels it into the dining area where everypony can come get their order.

The cart is narrow and has two shelves, each with several covered dishes and several drinks on it. Cure extends his horn and quickly scans everything, finding nothing suspicious.

Barely holding back a laugh, Solar asks, “Did you seriously just scan the tray for poison?”

“Had to be sure,” he answers with a shrug.

“Who would be stupid enough to try to poison somepony with your talent?” Drift asks.

Dawn is quick to remind her, “It’s not something most creatures would know about. We only know it wouldn’t work because we’ve seen what he can do.”

“Feel free to scan my food,” Rising nervously says. “It is safe, right?”

“Yep. If y’all want I could give each of you an antidote gland I developed. My parents and sisters all have it and we’ve tested a bunch of stuff on my dad. It works a lot like the trees do, sort of. The only downside is that it also works on the drugs they use for surgery, so it would be a good idea if I also made the changes you would need to turn off pain receptors.”

As Cure explains his changes using Illusions for visual aids, the rest of the group, along with Starlight and Solar, pile around the two dining tables. Deed and Vines eat their meals and a dessert while still sitting on one of the lounging couches, as do his moms with the food they ordered.

The three pegasi eagerly take him up on his offer, as do the unicorns. Dawn and Solar so they can cast while ignoring pain and Starlight in case Cure is not nearby when she eventually has foals. When she mentions that he waves her to the side and uses a Sound Bubble to also suggest other foalbirth-related upgrades that just happened to have other applications. Though she accepts, she can’t help but blush nearly crimson at the colt’s clinical explanation of the enhancements.

Ferric asks for the pain control too, citing the need to be able to think clearly should there ever be an accident when smithing or in her future guard career. Sapphire just thinks it’s neat and doesn’t like being hurt, so she happily gets the small change also. Rising, Heavy, and Coast aren’t very interested, but Cure’s paranoia gets the best of them and they agree to at least try the changes or for a few days to see if they think they’re worth keeping.

With everypony immunized to a wide range of poisons, venoms, and drugs they sit and watch as a few last-minute boarders rush to hop on the train. With one last “All Aboard!” call the train employees do a final check and close the doors. Another server knocks and quickly reloads the cart with empty plates and cups before leaving the room, recommending that everypony find a comfortable seat as the train will be departing in just a moment.

At long last, a series of blasts go off from the train’s whistle and, with surprisingly little vibration or noise, the train gets underway.

Thursday, April 30th, 909 AB
Just after midnight

“Dad!” Cure hisses, shaking his sire. “Wake up! We have incoming!”

Deed’s sleep-addled mind snaps to full alertness in a second. The colt had insisted somepony would try something and, apparently, he wasn’t just being paranoid after all. Taking a glance around he meets his son’s eyes and gives him a small nod letting him know he’s awake.

“I’ve got a sound bubble crystal activated in the hallway,” he explains as Deed climbs off the bed. “Solar’s already up and setting the tables up in chokepoint. I have a shield and glaive, spear thing out here for you,” he says, rushing out the curtain to the hallway. Deed quickly follows and finds that Cure isn’t joking; Solar has moved the tables so they’re blocking the left and right sides of the car making a small, clear area between the kitchen, closet area and the lounging section.

Deed looks over the items, confused where they came from for a moment. A quick inspection shows them to be made of bone and keratin as he can feel his auras flow through the items. The shield is as tall as he is and slightly wider. A tower shield, if what he recalls from Grandpa Brick’s lectures is accurate. With the ability to make the shield lighter or heavier it should prove to be a formidable defensive item, especially with the durability crystal Cure slipped inside.

The spear, if that’s the correct term, is definitely not a defensive item. Deed looks up at the head of the weapon and, in addition to a sharp head, four smaller but equally sharp barbs jut out in a cross, each with an oil or, more likely, venom of some kind coating them. He doesn’t have the griffon aura like Cure does, but if one of those barbs touches something Deed’s pretty confident that won’t matter.

Quickly moving forward he joins Solar looking towards the front of the car between the upturned tables. Cure’s already gathered seven of his plants and is quickly merging them all together, along with dozens of crystals, to make something. The vine he had running up through the other cars is hooked into the creation’s tail, or at least where he thinks the tail is going to be.

It looks like some kind of quadrupedal, six armed pony, minotaur, dragon, bug thing that Deed has to admit would scare the shit straight out of any pony with half a brain. Two of the arms have three long, wicked looking talons and the other four are barely more than scythes half as long as Deed’s body. The thing is easily four hooves taller than Deed is at the eyes.

“Who’s coming? What’s going on?” he quickly asks.

“Friggin everypony is coming, dad! Four minotaur are two cars up. There’s ten zebras a car behind them and it looks like a dozen ponies are gathering, starting to make their way here too. I don’t know what the fuck is going on, but it ain’t nothin good! We only have like two minutes ‘till the minotaurs get here!”

Solar watches curiously while Cure works on his creation. “What the hay are you making, dude?”

“A Warrior from a science fiction book. Sort of. They didn’t have unicorn horns on their shoulders and were bipedal, but I need room to climb in. I think they only had one set of blades too. Scrubs,” he says with a scoff. “Hey Solar, go put these above the door! They’ll stick, just cram them up there. Quick!” he shouts, passing a dozen… things to Solar.

The young stallion has a hard time seeing in the low light of the car, but his aura lets him see enough to know that Cure has passed him some kind of pods. There’s not really any “feeling” with magic; something he’s very grateful for, because the pods look like they’re made of some kind of flesh and are coated in a sticky mucus.

Each one is a little bigger than his hoof and is segmented into dozens of smaller units, though he can’t tell what’s inside of them. Solar uses his magic to attach the pods to the ceiling above the doorway, making a row of them trailing into the car, all the while sending a silent prayer to the maker that he doesn’t get to actually find out what they do.

He can tell Cure is doing something to them with his magic every minute or so, but he’s using his talent, not a spell so there’s no way to know exactly what he’s doing.

Once finished he turns around and finds himself face to belly with the completed suit Cure has been working on. It’s hooves down the most terrifying creature Solar has ever seen or heard of.

Standing head and shoulders above Deed, the creature looks to be little more than bone, muscle, sharp edges, and armor. Recoiling purely on instinct, Solar recollects himself and watches a suddenly un-coated Cure climb into the thing’s open belly cavity before it closes, sealing the colt inside behind a hoof thick plate of bone and muscle.

Within a few seconds the thing… Cure… opens his eyes and nods in satisfaction. Solar expected some kind of rasping hiss or something, but a normal, if deep, voice explains, “You two are the last line of defense. I told Lucky to wait until I call them in. They wouldn’t have been able to get here first and there’s too many hostiles for them to take without somepony gettin hurt. We can get them in a crossfire this way too, if need be.

“Stay behind the barricades and aim to kill anything that gets past me. One of you keeps an eye backwards too, just in case. Those points,” he motions to the spear barbs, “are coated in the most potent paralytic venom I could make, but we can’t be sure they don’t have some kind of bullshit antivenom, especially the zebras.”

He flexes one of his claws, looking at it appraisingly, then a sheen manifests on the sharpened edge before he comments, “Nothing likely will. At least, not in one piece, but… hey, ya never know with magic.” He quickly levitates a few crystals to each stallion. Flame Dart, Stun, and Shield. Basic, but practical, Solar supposes.

“The minotaurs are almost here. I think the zebras saw them headed this way and are hanging back to see what happens, or to ambush them. There’s a dozen ponies behind them, too. Lucky’s team is suited up in their security gear and Arcane is, apparently, itching to sling some plasma, so we should be fine. This whole thing,” he motions to himself, “is probably overkill, but ya know… better safe than sorry. Maybe I can just scare everypony… everyone enough they’ll walk away.”

“I would,” Solar mumbles. He notices Deed nod in agreement a second later.

“Yeah, well, you have some common sense, dude. Anyone with half a brain would look at this thing and nope right the fuck off.” He stops and faces the door. “They’re here.”

Cure reaches over and taps a panel carefully with his left claw. The back half of the room is, once again, completely dark. From the barricades to the front of the car is lit and he, with his scythes wrapped around his body like crossed arms, stands alone in the light.

The three watch as the lock on the door is forced up, then the door is gently slid open. The first minotaur that steps through pauses when he catches sight of Cure, then squares up with him stepping fully into the room. Compared to a pony the dude is huge. Standing just a half head shorter than Cure’s creation, the minotaur is almost as wide as he is.

From the looks of it the group did not come prepared for a heavily armed opponent. They have only wooden clubs, likely the only thing they could sneak aboard the train. They are also wearing no armor, though the Guard trainers explained that minotaurs typically don’t wear any outside of times of war as a show of pride and strength. The concept sounds idiotic to Solar, but in this case he’s perfectly fine with the bit of luck.

Solar can see the other three behind him, all males, looking warily at the creature before them. The last one has a pack slung over his shoulder; probably the same they used to sneak weapons onboard. Also, likely the same they would shove a blue colt into if he wasn’t presently a twenty something hoof tall wall of bone and muscle.

“You have five seconds to turn around,” Cure’s suddenly much deeper voice slowly commands. As he delivers his ultimatum he extends a single scythe arm and gently sets it atop a nearby table. With no discernable force the scythe cuts through the tabletop like parting water. “Or you will die. Quickly. Meaninglessly. Never having any hope of victory.”

The frontmost minotaur takes only a second to look at the table before speaking. In a deep, sonorous voice he explains, “We have no quarrel with you, creature. We are mercenaries, hired and paid to do a job. Stand aside.”

“I was hired to do a job as well. Who sent you?”

“Not important,” he says with a dismissive wave. “There are four of us and only one of you.”

“Not important,” Cure retorts, extending his scythe arms. “I have a blade for each of you. Last chance. Turn around and leave. No amount of money is worth your life. You have no hope of victory.”

“Honor demands we fulfill our agreement, no matter the result.”

“Honor?! Four minotaurs assault a train car full of foals, a family, and a pregnant mare,” Cure says with a scoff. “Hypocrisy and foolishness. You have no honor, scum. I will carve ‘Coward’ into each of your hides before presenting you to the sun pony. All that see you will know your measure.”

The lead minotaur looks over his shoulder and nods to the other three. There’s not room enough for all of them to stand shoulder to shoulder, so only one is able to step up beside him, though the two bump into each other and stumble slightly before righting themselves, a move that gets a raised brow from Solar.

Before any of them take another step, Cure takes a deep, steadying breath and exhales, spreading his scythe arms wide and keeping his taloned arms loosely at his sides. The four minotaurs approach, preparing for combat, then lose their balance and collapse on the floor.

“Well,” Cure comments, shoulders slumping and scythes refolding around him. “That was anticlimactic. Smidge closer than I expected though.”

“Dude… what was that?” Solar asks.

“Poison?” Deed guesses.

“Yep. Poison,” Cure confirms, turning to look back at the pair over his shoulder. “What? Did you think it would be green or somethin, dude? I’ve been filling the front half of the car with gas for the last five minutes.”

“Kind of?” Solar defends.

Cure chuckles, which is an odd thing to see in an enormous killer bug dragon thing, then shakes his head. “I would have to add something to it to make it visible. That’s freaking stupid. No, they’re just drugged. They’ll be out for a few hours, minimum.

“Oh hey! Minotaur scans!” he happily shouts, turning and laying a hand on each of them. “Nothing too new here. Shame there’s no female with them. Huh… they do have a different mitochondrial structure… not sure what it does, though.” Cure floats the discarded bag to an outstretched hand, reaches in, and pulls out four crystals.

“Sleep,” he says, dropping them back in, “and ten thousand bits,” he says, peering into a bit pouch. Despite the ferocious appearance Solar can still detect the mischievous glint in Cure’s expression. “I mean… two thousand bits…”

“Son…” Deed starts in a disappointed tone.

“I’m joking! Sheesh.” The disguised colt makes a show of dropping the pouch back in the bag and tossing it back towards the sleeping quarters.

Solar lets out a sigh. “I thought you were going to kick their flanks.”

“Nah,” Cure waves dismissively. “The suit, the scythes, all that was just to make them think we were really going to fight. I’m not exactly enthusiastic about having to actually kill something. I mean… I will if I have to, but not if I can just knock ‘em out. I woulda just darted them if they managed to stay up another second.”

He waves a scythe arm in the air and asks, “Do you have any idea how messy these would have been? The stains, the smell… ugh I bet the carpet would be a write-off, Cleaning be damned. Even magic has its limits,” he grumbles.

Solar knows the colt is joking, but it’s bizarre to see somepony seem so calm about the whole mess. Maybe this is just Cure’s way of covering up the anxiety or, maybe, he’s almost relieved to finally have somecreature legitimately come after him finally. Either way there’s a being out there that better be thanking the stars the minotaurs didn’t give up a name.

Cure moves the minotaurs out of the way, lifting them with a horn and piling two to a side against the walls to leave a walkway and a small cleared area in front of him. After a moment of consideration, he follows through on his promise, though he uses his talent instead of a claw, to Solar’s relief. On each of their chests and backs he changes the color of their skin and coat; the word FOOL clearly legible in large, bold type.

“Fool?” Solar questions.

“Feels more appropriate,” he replies. “At least they had the balls to try to fight me. Coward doesn’t feel right.”

“They’re going to come after you for that, you know?” Solar points out. “Though I guess even fool is better than coward. That’s like… about the absolute worst insult for a minotaur. At least, as I understand their culture.”

“Fuck them. They’re lucky I don’t do something I would truly regret to ‘em. When I find out who sent them this will seem like a mercy. These bastards were going to take me away from my family. If we weren’t going to the boss…” he trails off while standing over the group menacingly, flexing his claws for a few seconds. Finally, he lets out a sigh and visibly deflates.

He glances to the side and, with a Mending spell, repairs the sliced table, then floats it back behind Deed and Solar. He sheepishly admits, “I don’t wanna hafta pay for that. It looks expensive,” before focusing back on the information coming from his vines.

<< The minotaurs are down, Uncle Lucky. Zebras incoming in a minute. I’ll let you know if I need help. >>

<< You took out four minotaurs that fast? How?! >>

<< Poison gas. They never actually had any hope at all. >>

<< Way ta go, colt. Save some for Arcane. The dude is pumped and ready to throw down! >>

<< No promises. I think I can just knock everyone out. Boring but safe and effective, ya know? >>

“Alright, so there’s ten zebras spread out in the hallway of the car ahead of us.” He glances at Solar over his shoulder and asks, “As I understand it they have shamans and stuff, right?”

“Yeah, they can use some weird magic. And alchemy. Don’t let them throw anything in here.”

“Right,” Cure nods in agreement. He watches curiously as the furthest zebra pulls a large flask from a satchel and opens the door to the car in front of them. “Ah shit… I think they’re trying to decouple us and the car in front of us.”

Alarmed at the possibility, Solar quickly asks, “Can you stop them?!”

“Yeah, sucks for them but I can sprout a small horn from the vine over there. This is so unfair,” he comments. Cure watches on with a chuckle when the zebra looks under the platforms between the cars, then gets ready to throw the flask at the coupling.

Through the targeting aura he can see the zebra’s shocked expression when, when rearing back to throw, the flask is ripped from his hoof and floated away. “Oops, dropped somethin there, buddy,” he says to himself. “This is boring. I’m just gonna knock all of them out, I guess.”

“You could do that all along?” Deed asks.

Shrugging, Cure explains, “Yeah. None of these morons are shielded. I guess they were expecting a bunch of earth ponies. I can use my talent to transmute a few milligrams of food in their guts to opium and they’ll be out in just a moment.”

“Damnit, colt. Do it! Ya had me scared ta death over here!” he shouts, throwing his hooves in the air.

“Really? Why?” It’s strange, again, to Solar to see a two and a half meter tall horror creature tilt its head curiously. In a way it’s almost funny to see something so monstrous behaving like a six hoof tall colt. In a far more serious way, though, it just goes to show how terrifying Cure really can be.

Deed tosses the shield to the side and, much more gently, sets the spear down. “Ya woke me up yellin the whole train was comin for us!”

“Well, yeah, but… did you really think there was something out there that could take me? I just needed you two to make sure nopony… I dunno, teleported past me or something. Would you have rather I didn’t wake you up?”

Deed sighs, then shakes his head no. “Nah, I guess I’d be upset if I found out in tha mornin. Just… take care of the rest’a them. I’m goin back ta sleep.”

“Alright. Goodnight, pa. Love you!” Cure pauses a second and, with a big smile, runs over and lifts up the big stallion, squeezing him in a hug, scythes and all. Solar does actually laugh this time when he plants a toothy kiss on Deed’s cheek before setting him down and, gently, patting his head. The indignant look his sire shoots him before trotting back to bed just further cracks him up.

“You goin back to bed too, dude?”

“Umm…” Solar hesitates, looking back at the area with the sleeping foals and his marefriend. “I’ll stay up to make sure nothing weird happens.” He pauses, looking Cure up and down. “Well, nothing weirder than you happens, that is. You’re sure you can take care of the zebras?”

“I already did,” he flatly replies. “I did that before I grabbed my dad. I put some straight in their blood too, just to speed it up. A few milligrams of fat and sugars converted and bam! You shoulda seen ‘em tripping and stumbling before they passed out.

“There’s really nothing to worry about, I guess. I mean, even if that didn’t work I could turn that hallway into a slaughterhouse just by running down it with my blades extended. Literally nothing could stop me, not even a unicorn shield. At least, not for more than a second or two.

“Pegasi can increase their mass too, so I’d be hitting like a thirteen hundred kilogram boulder, give or take. With spikes and venom and teeth. Assuming I didn’t fall through the floor, that is.” Cure pauses to look at his dragon-like clawed feet. “I may hafta make my feet wider. More surface area to spread the weight,” he idly muses.

Solar nods in understanding, “First off, I didn’t know pegasi could do that. Second, that sounds disgusting.”

Cure just shrugs in response before saying, “Screw it, I’m tired. I really expected tougher opposition here. Let’s see what the pony squad is doing.” He concentrates on his vine again, then a moment later says, “So the scouts, I’m assuming, found the unconscious zebras. They’re regrouping in the lounge car to figure out what to do. Oops, looks like one of the zebras is a lightweight. Hold on,” he says, stilling for a moment. “Okay, she’s fine now. Close one, heh…”

<< Zebras are out too, Uncle Lucky. I was able to knock them out with drugs. Apologize to Arcane for me, I’ll probably do something like that to the ponies too. No fighting tonight, I guess. >>

<< Eh, that’s fine, colt. That just means more energy ta burn once we get inta town. Good job! >>

“Dude…”

“What?” he defensively whines. “I don’t normally rely on drugs! Winners don’t use drugs, Solar!” he firmly insists, then chuckles. “It’s a damn lucky thing the clinic has this crap in stock at all, otherwise I would have to make do with some kind of venom, and who knows how they would react to that. At least opiates are predictable... ish.

“They should freaking thank me I’m not out there with these guys,” he says, waving a scythe around. “A little overdose isn’t a big deal. And unless you tell somepony it never happened,” he insists, staring intently.

Solar is quick to nod in agreement. Even though he knows it’s still just Cure and his little bro would never hurt him, the Warrior he’s inside of is very intimidating.

“Oh my gosh… you’re not going to believe this!” he suddenly shouts, turning to face the front again.

“What?” Solar asks. “Are there dragons now or something?”

“Nah,” he says, waving a huge, taloned hand, “the ponies… they’re drawing straws to see who has to come see what happened! HAH! Pussies.”

“You’re joking, right?”

“Nah, dude. Totally serious. In fact, it looks like one of the unicorns just cheated to make sure an earth pony lost. Wow, what a douche. You should see the expression on the earth pony’s face, though. He looks like he’s being marched off to his death.”

“Well…” Solar starts, waving around.

Cure only thinks for a second before he nods. “Yeah, I guess. Alright, this is all boring me. Let’s fuck with this guy some, see if we can get him to squeal, then get some sleep. I’m gonna go grab all the zebras real quick, come help me levitate a few in here before the pony starts coming. Put all their bags in my dam’s spatial bag; she hardly has anything in it and I bet the princess will wanna go through it and the minotaurs’ crap.”

Nodding in acceptance, Solar follows Cure to the door. Cure has to cast Reduce to easily fit through and, on the way, Solar casts a quick Mending on the lock. The disguised colt drops an activated Sound Bubble crystal to keep the car quiet while they have the doors open.

Just as Cure had said there are ten zebras all laying down sleeping in the hallway. It takes a couple trips to float and carry all of them back, not to mention having to use Cleaning a couple times where one or another lost bladder control. Every time he checks the vine to see what’s happening Cure assures Solar that the earth pony they’re sending is taking his sweet time heading their way.

With a mischievous smirk, Cure rushes up to the kitchenette and fills the tea kettle with water before turning it on. He carries it back into the room, then rearranges the furniture and the sleeping attackers while Solar watches bewildered.

A moment later Cure, now unshrunk and still in his massive Warrior suit, has a table set up in the middle of the room. He has the heated water in a tea kettle, a few empty teacups, and a selection of the available tea blends along with sugar cubes in a bowl arranged for company.

The zebras are piled five to a couch against the walls, stacked like dead bodies even though they’re clearly breathing. The minotaurs are similarly stacked, arranged by Cure in pairs so they seem to be spooning each other on the floor at the ends of each couch. Sat between the two couches, he pats the floor by his side then lays on his barrel. Solar rolls his eyes, but dutifully takes his place next to Cure. The pair sit in silence for a moment until Solar can detect the earth pony on the opposite side of the door.

Cure opens the door with his unicorn telekinesis, startling the stallion, then calls out to him. “Come on in, won’t you?” he shouts over the outside noise. To add to the Cure-ness he’s speaking in an odd Trottingham accent with a different voice. The high pitched voice coming out of the enormous construct makes the scene that much more bizarre. Slowly, the stallion pokes his head in the door and looks around warily. “Don’t worry, old chap. I may look scary, but I’m a civilized being. No harm will come to you, I promise.

“You see,” Cure waves at the zebras and minotaurs all piled around him, “they’re just asleep. No blood, no bruises, none of that rubbish. Now come on in here and join me for a spot of tea, why don’t you? We’ll have a little chat and you can be on your way.” He pours two cups of hot water and drops a tea bag in each, then looks questioningly at Solar who declines the offer with a head shake.

Like a scolded puppy, the stallion makes his way in the door, head down and tail tucked under him. He jumps, startled again, when Cure closes the door behind him, but presses on past the first few areas regardless. He’s slim for an earth pony, Solar notes, with a dark charcoal coat and a silver mane. Then again, after months of hanging out with Cure and his family, all but the bulkiest earth ponies seem slim to Solar these days. Knees shaking, the stallion slowly approaches the table, eyes never leaving Cure.

“There, see? No need to be afraid, friend,” Cure says. “We’re just having a delightful slumber party, and apparently everyone is invited!” he finishes with a laugh. The poor stallion looks ready to piss himself. “How much sugar do you take?”

The stallion looks at the tea warily for a moment, then whispers, “Two please?” half questioningly. Apparently he’d come to the conclusion that the tea is safe enough, which is logical. It’s not as if the monstrosity before him needs to poison him if he holds ill intent. He may anyhow, but that’s just SOP in Cure’s book, Solar has come to realize.

Cure gingerly picks up two cubes of sugar then, daintily, stirs the tea with the tiniest looking spoon ever while Solar and the stallion watch in some combination of curiosity, humor, and horror. He then picks up his cup, which is comically small in the huge creature’s hands, and takes a loud, slurping sip, sighing in contentment. “So… what is your name and what brings you here tonight?”

“Uhh… what are you?”

“I am a Warrior,” Cure explains. “But sadly,” he says with an exaggerated pout, “there is no war for me to fight. Yet. So I suppose that makes me a bodyguard for now. So, again I ask… who are you and why are you here?”

“Lost Coin. I drew the short straw,” the stallion answers, shrinking down to his barrel.

“The short straw…” Cure pauses, then looks to Solar. “He says he drew the short straw,” Cure slowly repeats to the young stallion before looking back. In a commanding tone he clarifies, “What I meant is, why are there eleven more ponies out there waiting for you? Who hired you and what are your intentions?”

“I dunno!” the stallion cries. Full on cries, with tears running down his cheeks and snot dripping out of his snout. “There’s a colt and the boss didn’t wanna deal with a foal so he sent the minotaurs and they were supposed Sleep everypony and get him and bring him to us and the pegasi are supposed to fly him somewhere and that’s all I know ‘cause the boss didn’t tell nopony nothing else and I swear we wasn’t gonna hurt nopony but then I drew the short straw and they said to come see what happened when all the zebras fell asleep and I didn’t know why and please, please don’t eat me!” he finishes, covering his head with his forelegs, bawling on the floor.

Solar looks up to Cure, quirking an eyebrow. The colt in disguise makes a show of scratching at his chin while humming in thought. “I haven’t eaten a pony in a very long time,” he slowly admits. “Not very flavorful, if you ask me. The meat’s too tough and you’re terribly gamey. Also, only unicorns tend to have enough fat to get really juicy.”

Cure’s normal voice shouts, “He’s lying!” as he pounds a hoof against the inside of the belly. He looks down and quickly dismisses the noise with, “That was just the wind,” before continuing on. A fresh row of tears streams down the stallion’s face.

Shaking his head, Cure continues, “Besides, that princess of yours has her ‘No eating my little ponies’ rule. Quite bothersome, really. No, it just isn’t worth the trouble.” He lets out a big sigh and wraps an arm around Solar. “You’re all so cute and huggable anyhow! Far better use for a pony, if you ask me, rather than eating them. Wouldn’t you agree?” he asks, leaning over the table.

Coin, and Solar is really beginning to feel bad for the poor fella, nods emphatically at the question.

“Wonderful!” Cure cheers. “Hugs good, eats bad. I should put that on a t-shirt or something,” he idly says. “So… we need to come up with a solution to this whole foalnapping problem, don’t we?”

“I could just leave?” Coin suggests. “The boss said to go see what’s happening. I could tell him we need to go!”

“Ah, but then who will speak to the authorities in Canterlot?” Cure asks, then shakes his head no. “No, I’m afraid that won’t work. Which one is the boss?”

“He’s a white unicorn! He goes by Slip!”

“Slip, hrm? Oh and a white unicorn. How very interesting. Does he have a dark brown mane, perchance?”

“No! It’s blue!”

“Ah,” he says, letting out a disappointed sigh. “A shame. I could only be so lucky, I suppose. Though I guess it could have been him. We’ll see.” Cure, once again, pauses in thought. He reaches behind his back and, seemingly out of nowhere, produces a brown wooden box a few hooves tall on each side. He sets it on the table before the earth pony and says, “I’ll tell you what, Lost Coin. If you promise to take this box to your boss you may go.”

“Really?” he asks, voice full of hope.

“Yep. Just one small delivery and, chances are, we’ll never meet again. Don’t worry, there’s nothing harmful in it at all. Just a message.”

“Okay,” he agrees, slowly reaching for the box as if it were a trap. When he touches it and nothing happens he picks it up and sets it on his withers. Slowly backing away from the table, he waits until he’s several body lengths away before turning and quickly exiting the car, nearly slamming the door shut as he flees.

“What’s in the box?” Solar asks.

Cure smirks then, more energetically, repeats back, “What’s in the box?!” and bursts out laughing. “It’s an overinflated balloon, basically, filled with gas. I upped the dosage compared to what these assholes got. Running outta patience as I get more tired, ya know? When they lift the lid the thing will shoot gas all throughout the room and knock ‘em out.”

“But you could have knocked them out from here like you did the zebras,” Solar accuses.

“Yeah, but now I know which one is the boss and why minotaurs were here. Of course, it’s always the unicorn, isn’t it?” he asks with a sigh.

“Hey!”

“Sorry, dude, but… oh wait, he’s actually going to open it. What an idiot! Aaand they’re out.”

<< Hey Uncle Lucky, the ponies are all knocked out just outside your door. Give it about two minutes for the gas to clear or you’ll get knocked out too, then drag ‘em in here, please. >>

<< Sure thing, colt. We’ll be there in a few. >>

“Alright, I need to get out of this thing. Can you put the furniture back?”

“Sure.”

“Cool. Thanks for playing along dude. It was fun,” he says with a smirk.

“Right. Fun. I’m freaking tired,” Solar complains, starting to levitate the furniture back where it belongs. “Hey, you never said what was in those things I stuck over the door.”

“Wasps.”

“Wasps?”

“Yep. Lots and lots of very aggressive wasps with special venom. They’re not natural creatures; no way to eat or reproduce. Disposable weapons, basically. I figured if somehow my magic were completely disabled and I was incapacitated those things would be a good fallback.”

“How would you set them off without magic?”

“My magic is the only thing keeping them from going off. I’m actively holding them back. If my magic cuts out they’ll start bursting free in a moment.”

“Dude!” Solar shouts in alarm. “What would have happened if they did cut off your magic?”

“A thousand of those things with paralytic stings would have gone after everypony that doesn’t have my scent on them.”

“Oh. So we would have been fine?”

“We would be the only ones that are fine. Even if you got stung you’re immune to the venom now, remember?”

“Oh yeah. Good thinking.”

Cure nods in acknowledgement while divesting himself of his suit. The mass goes back to being shrubs, refilling all but the four he used on his wires. He steals some mass from the plants and makes thick silk bindings, wrapping each prisoner much like he’d done to Solar on Nightmare Night.

The minotaurs are all laid on their bellies with their arms and legs bound behind their backs with another set of bands from their bound hands and hooves around their horns. It looks horribly uncomfortable, but when Solar comments on it Cure shrugs and points out that if they wake up with a sore neck they should thank their lucky stars he didn’t tear them to shreds.

Just as the two finish securing the prisoners, Arcane, Lucky, and five of the security ponies he had healed for his great grandsire arrive carrying the dozen ponies. The two pegasi have one each, the four earth ponies are easily carrying two apiece, and the two unicorns are floating theirs behind them like luggage. Cure introduces Solar to everypony and gives them a rundown of the evening’s events.

“Twenty six, though?” Arcane asks incredulously.

“Yeah, dude. I know the minotaurs and ponies are all hired hooves, hands, whatever. The minotaurs were apparently subcontracted by the ponies to deliver me. They apparently didn’t have the balls to do their own dirty work. I didn’t speak to the zebras at all, so I dunno what their story is. They tried to uncouple the cars, though, so they weren’t up to nothin good.”

“That’s probably for the best,” the stallion suggests. “Their magic is weird. You don’t wanna mess with that. They ain’t gonna wake up at all?”

Shaking his head no, Cure assures him, “Not for a few hours, and they’ll feel like crap when they do. Do you think we can get these flankholes all loaded into the cargo car behind us so the other foals don’t have to wake up and see ‘em? I can whip up something that’ll keep ‘em under until we get to Canterlot without killing ‘em. I’ll hafta make all of you immune to it, though, so nothing stupid happens somehow.”

Lucky and Arcane nod in agreement. “Smart thinkin, colt,” Lucky compliments. He looks over the group and shakes his head, letting out a deep sigh. “Twenty six creatures all after one colt. They oughta thank the maker grandpa ain’t here. We’ll get ‘em to the next car over, alright? Get us ready and set up yer thing and then get yerself some sleep with yer little herd’a fillies. We’ll take care‘a the rest.”

With a relieved sigh, Cure nuzzles into his uncle’s chest. “Thanks Uncle Lucky. I’m pooped.”

Lucky scoops Cure up into a tight hug. “Gettin heavy, colt,” he comments before setting him back down. “C’mon, let’s get it done and getchya ta bed,” he says, waving to the back of the train car. “Any’a these trash stir, we’ll deal with it,” he insists in a snarl.

“Do ya think we could put that one,” he says, pointing at the white unicorn with a blue mane, “in the bathroom and do a little… questioning?”

“You can’t torture him,” Solar calmly says. “I know you’re angry, but the torture of prisoners is forbidden.”

Sighing, Cure nods in understanding. “I wasn’t going to torture him, just ask some pointed questions. It was more of a passing thought than anything, to be honest. Besides, that prick was gonna take me from my family,” he reminds them. “He sent four minotaurs with clubs in here, too. There’s not a lot that can be done to him that’s worse than he deserves.”

“That may be,” Lucky concedes, “but he’ll get his once the princess finds out. That ain’t a path ya wanna go down, son. You’re too young for that unpleasantness.”

“Alright, alright! I was just askin anyway,” he insists. Cure watches as they move everypony. Solar helps move the prisoners and watches as Cure merges two of his plants together, turning them into a large anesthesia dispenser. It's a rudimentary system, but it only has to last a few hours anyhow. Chances are what he gave them already will keep them out for the next six to eight hours, but he would rather slowly give them a tiny bit extra to be sure.

He plugs a cannula into their veins, spending a moment or two ensuring enough sedative is being administered that none of them will die or wake up. It’s a delicate balance that takes him a couple minutes on each one. In a little under an hour all of the prisoners, including the leader, are moved and hooked into his plant.

Cure would love nothing more than to rip the unicorn to shreds, but with the potential damage to his image, it simply isn’t worth it. He's not the same pony he detected when his plants are stolen, which is unfortunate. Just to be safe he adds a scent gland in the stallion's mane, though. It’s undetectable by normal ponies, but with his enhanced sense of smell Cure could track him from miles away in case he somehow manages to get away.

Everything taken care of, the two return to the sleeping area. Solar gently climbs on the bed with Starlight, Dawn, Rising, and Coast. Instead of joining the girls, Cure climbs into bed with his parents, wedging his head between Vines’ forelegs and relaxing against her chest and baby bump. He puts himself into a state of torpor, still keeping a wary ear out for betrayal or any sign of problems through the vine plugged into his back.

He doesn’t think there’s any way in hell Arcane and Lucky would do that, but given the sheer tropeyness of it happening he isn’t completely sure the world couldn’t somehow pull it off. Thankfully, nothing happened for the remainder of the night aside from some light chatter amongst the security team. More than once he heard them wondering aloud how exactly a single colt so easily captured twenty-six adults.

When morning finally rolls around and the first of his friends begins to stir, Cure reluctantly frees himself from his dam’s warm embrace, disconnects from his plants, and joins the other foals on the nearby bed. Heavy is the first to wake, groggily nuzzling against Glacial’s side. That causes the platinum filly to start moving too, waking Drift and Wind who had snuggled together in a wing embrace that Cure could barely hold himself from diving into.

After a few minutes of yawning, stretching, and nuzzling into each other the entire troop slowly comes to, yawning and looking around before recognizing the unfamiliar sleeping area and remembering what was going on the night before.

As biological needs reveal themselves everypony takes turns using the facilities, getting drinks in the kitchenette, and gathering for breakfast. Orders are placed along with some extra for Lucky and the security guards. As the foals mill about Cure gathers his parents and gives them all a summary of the night before.

“Twenty six?” Lemon asks, brows clear up into her mane. “Sweet Celestia, Cure! Who did you piss off?”

“At this point it basically has to be some kind of noble. I don’t suppose anypony knows the going rate for a dozen-strong band of pony mercenaries?”

“I bet yer uncle would,” Amethyst points out. “Offhoof I’d guess at least twenty grand, though. Probably a lot more if they knew they were goin after a foal.”

“I would expect less,” Vines comments.

“Huh-uh,” Amethyst immediately disagrees, shaking her head. “Think about how much trouble yer riskin if ya get caught.”

“Yea, the boss lady is going to be pissed,” Cure nods in agreement. “I bet we’re in for some warm weather today.”

“It gets hotter when she’s angry?” Deed asks.

“I’m not sure,” Cure admits with a shrug. “Maybe? It wouldn’t blow my mind.” Cure pauses, frowning in thought for a moment. “Damn, maybe I should fill her in outside.”

“How exactly are you going to tell her?” Title asks.

Cure stops to think for a moment, then his eyes widen comically huge. “I just had a great idea! Oh, but before we do that, are you guys okay with me going to meet with that dragoness? Who knows when I’ll get another opportunity to meet one?”

“Son ya just had a little under thirty po… creatures tryin to abduct ya,” Deed starts. “Or whatever the zebras had planned. Donchya think maybe ya oughta keep a low profile ‘till we arrive?”

“I doubt it matters at this point, pa. Whoever sent them after me clearly knows who I am. If there’s any more on the train I doubt they’d be bold enough to make a move on me with everypony up and about, especially after last night. Even if there are, nothin’s stoppin me from taking them out too.”

Sighing, Deed begrudgingly agrees.

“You’re taking Arcane with you,” Vines insists. “Arcane and at least one other guard, just in case. And your sire.”

“That’s fair. I’ll check my vine to see if she’s even up and about before we go.”

Once food arrives Cure, Solar, and Deed take some to the security guards. Cure takes the opportunity to check over the prisoners and finds that his plant is doing a good enough job. A few had gotten a little dehydrated and apparently Arcane and the other unicorn had to use a Cleaning cantrip a few times when one or another peed in their extended sleep, but aside from those minor inconveniences everything else had gone well.

Cure filled the teapot with water a few times and brought it back to his plant, then set it up to keep each prisoner hydrated. After checking his vine he finds the dragoness is done eating and, presumably, is headed back to her sleeper cab. With his security escort he quickly takes off to intercept her, finding her just outside her cab ready to duck back inside.

The meeting wasn’t particularly fun; she was rude and dismissive until he demonstrated, on his own leg, the difference between her current yellow and the gold that he is proposing. The dragoness was immensely distrusting, repeatedly asking what’s in it for him. Between his explanation of his mark “compelling” him to use it and the allure of the free alteration she hesitantly agreed to the deal.

Actually changing her scale color was a struggle, though. Apparently dragon scales are fairly magic-resistant, a fact Cure hadn’t anticipated in this world. He’d been aware that in many works of fiction that was the case, but he didn’t recall ever seeing any indication that was the case in the show, particularly with Spike. Of course, dragons weren’t all primarily quadrupedal in the show either and he figures maybe the dragon’s hatching process would be unusual enough to explain the difference.

Regardless, he had enough magic to make the change even if it did almost completely tap him out, something that would normally take over a dozen ponies’ coat jobs. At least the new golden luster of her scales completely flipped her attitude, going from semi-hostile and suspicious to friendly and oddly touchy in under a minute.

After saying goodbye to the dragoness, Citrine, Cure and his escort returned to the car to rejoin all of the others. It was at that point that the gathered foals cornered the colt and demanded to know who the hay the unknown ponies were and where they’d come from.

“Eh, don’t worry about ‘em,” he insists. “They’re just security ponies I hired to provide an escort. They work for my great grandsire normally. In fact, one of them is my Uncle Lucky… though I guess technically he’s my dad’s cousin, so I don’t think ‘uncle’ is exactly right.”

“But why are they staying in the last car?” Rising asks. “I thought that was just storage and luggage and stuff.”

“It was,” he explains, “but we kinda had to borrow it after a few jerks came and tried to steal my trees last night. Uncle Lucky and the security ponies were in one of the sleeper cars just ahead of us waiting to ambush any troublemaker.”

“So wait,” Coast interrupts, “somepony tried to steal your trees last night and your uncle and his security team took them out without us even waking up?”

“We carried them through the car after I made sure they wouldn’t wake up,” Cure says, dodging the question. “It really wasn’t a big deal; Solar and my sire lended a hoof for a little bit, but once he saw there wasn’t any problem my sire went back to sleep. Solar and I stayed up a little later ‘cause I had to hook everyone up to a few plants to keep ‘em from waking up. That’s why they’re using the storage car. And Drift?”

The purple filly perks up, “Huh?”

“I have a very special assignment for you.”

“You do? What?”

“Your mission, should you choose to accept it, is to deliver a missive to Her Highness, Princess Celestia, at the royal palace prior to our arrival in the capital. I am sending you with the scroll she mailed to us along with a note from myself informing her of the attempt. It’s urgent and I cannot trust anypony else to act appropriately. Do you think you can do it?”

The filly, nearly vibrating in excitement, eagerly nods.

“I’m going with her,” Wind Shear insists.

“That’s not a bad idea,” Cure agrees. “I expect her to send a squad of Royal Guards, or maybe even come-” he pauses at the knocking on the door. Glancing over, he watches as Solar opens it to the three guard mares he’d seen boarding the night before.

“Cure?” Solar calls, “Can you come here for a second?”

“Sorry, I’ll be right back,” he says, trotting to join the red colt. “Sup?”

“These three are here to deliver your trees to her highness,” he flatly explains, looking like he believes not a single word they’ve said.

“Really?” Cure asks, looking the three over.

The unicorn nods her head. “Yes sir. We have written orders right here,” she waves a scroll before tucking it back in her armor, “saying we are to deliver the trees as soon as we arrive.”

“Oh, that’s convenient,” Cure comments with a nod. “Just a sec.” Cure turns around and walks into the closet, sliding the trees out one at a time, then waving at them. “Just don’t eat any of the fruits yet. They need to be tested and all that, ya know? I don’t want anypony accidentally overdosing.”

“Sure, you bet.” The unicorn floats the trees over to her subordinates, setting one on each’s back. As she’s leaving she waves a hoof over her withers, calling back, “Thanks, colt. We’ll see you at the castle.”

As soon as the door shuts, Solar looks at Cure and asks, “So… were those some kind of bomb or something? I mean, you know damn well that there’s no way those three were legit, right?”

“Duh. Yeah, once they pluck a fruit off the trees it will release a swarm of those wasp things. Unlike the ones from last night the venom just itches instead of paralyzes. And believe you me, it will itch like Tartarus.”

Solar gives the colt an alarmed look, but Cure holds a hoof up to forestall what he knows the older colt is about to say. “They’re all completely sterile and can’t eat, so it’s not like I’m releasing some plague or whatever. There’s also a chemical tracer in those things that I’ll be able to follow for months. Hopefully they’re not smart enough to test them in a sealed environment.”

“Ahh,” he nods in understanding. “Gotchya. Are you planning on coming back at some point in the next few months?”

“Yeah, probably. That suit I made last night?” Solar nods. “I can make, basically, a biological flying machine. Or just a suit that looks like a pony as opposed to that thing,” he says.

“Oh, so that’s what your sire was talking about last night. The flying machine thing.”

“Yep. I could fly it from Golden Hills to the capital in an hour, hour and a half probably. I dunno about you, but I much prefer that over a ten hour train ride. Speaking of which, it looks like we’re almost there.” Cure heads back and grabs a paper and his fountain pen out of his saddlebag and sits down to write.

Dear Princess Celestia,

I hope you have had a wonderful day so far despite the early hour, and feel I must apologize in advance for potentially ruining it, even if the fault is not my own. My friends, family, and I are currently onboard the train arriving soon (or perhaps arrived by the time this reaches you) from Baltimare. Unfortunately I must inform you that the journey was not without incident.

At approximately midnight three groups approached our private car with malicious intent. Four minotaurs, ten zebras, and twelve ponies each made an attempt to either foalnap me, destroy or steal the trees, or both. I’m afraid I don’t have more information to provide as I did not take the liberty to interrogate each one. Each group was rendered unconscious nonviolently and all twenty six beings are alive and well, though sedated and securely bound.

Three other ponies identifying themselves as Royal Guards took custody of the trees just a few minutes ago, though they are unaware that what they took are not real antiviral units. If you see them and they are really yours, I highly recommend they be reminded not to remove any fruit. If they are not yours I would ask that you consider allowing them to get away with stealing the trees. Nothing overly bad will happen and, with some luck, we will be able to identify the true culprit.

I have asked my friends, Crosswind Drift and her sister Wind Shear, to deliver this message to you. Drift has expressed an interest in traveling and, perhaps, doing courier work when she grows up, so it is my hope that in accomplishing this task she is able to earn her cutie mark.

I have also given her the letter you sent to me regarding our invitation to the palace with the assumption that it will give her the opportunity to speak to you directly. I can only assume plenty of ponies, foals in particular, ask to speak to you, so hopefully that will be sufficient to get past your guards.

I would ask that a contingent of guards suitably equipped to take custody of the brigands be dispatched at your earliest convenience. I would normally just contact any passing guard, but I’m afraid that, at this point, I am leery of trusting anypony that does not report directly to your esteemed self.

Despite the unexpected challenges presented, I, along with all of my traveling companions, look forward to our meeting.

With warm regards,
Cure Wave

Cure uses a low powered Warming cantrip on the paper and blows on it until the ink is dry, then carefully folds it. It takes some digging through the drawers to find a wax seal kit, but that’s a standard thing in luxury hotel rooms and, apparently, train cars. After sealing the envelope he uses a Warming cantrip again to soften the wax, then makes an impression of his mark with a raised surface of his hoof, ensuring the princess will recognize the sender at a glance.

“Drift, Wind?” he calls, getting the girls’ attention. He passes Drift the letter along with the rolled up scroll that the princess had sent to him and his family. “Are you going to be able to fly off the train while it’s still moving?”

The pair look out the window to judge how fast the train is going. Unsurprisingly, while going up the mountain, the answer is “not very fast at all” so they turn back and assure him they can do so safely.

“Excellent. Just take this to the palace. You’ll certainly be stopped by the guard. Inform them that a special guest is to arrive at the palace today by invitation of the princess and present them the scroll.

“Tell them that said guest has had an urgent matter come up and has prepared a letter that you,” he says, pointing at Drift, “must deliver to the princess herself. It’s perfectly fine if they need to run any kind of scans or security tests on the letter, so don’t freak out if they do. Drift, I want you to take this letter,” he taps her bag again to emphasize, “and give it directly to her highness. Got it?”

“Okay…” Drift suspiciously agrees.

“You have your Sending crystals, right?”

They nod and Drift pauses, asking, “Why not just Send a message to the princess that way?”

He explains, “I’m willing to bet money the palace has some kind of enchantment that prevents that. I’m leery of even trying, to be honest. Are you two ready?”

“Yep,” they chorus.

“Awesome. Let’s go,” he says, motioning to the back of the train. As they get close he leans in to nuzzle with Wind and whispers, “Let Drift hoof it over. I’ll explain why later.” He gets a nod in return, then turns to open the door.

The pair follow him out and, with a quick goodbye, spread their wings and jump off the railing, taking to the air. When he returns to the car without them his dam, back to lounging in bed, asks what happened.

“I sent ‘em to the palace,” he casually explains.

“You let those two fillies fly off of a moving train up a mountain alone?!”

“They have their Sending crystals, dam. They’re fine. Any idea how much longer?” He hops on the bed, climbs over her forelegs, and lays with his dock pressing into her chest.

Sighing, she shakes her head no and lays down on top of him, nuzzling into his mane. “Not long if it’s like last time.”

“Wake me when we get there?”

“Sure, sweetie.”

Cure barely gets fifteen minutes of sleep before his dam wakes him up. After checking on the security team and ensuring the prisoners are in good health he returns to the car and quickly works to withdraw his vine. Fortunately pulling it back is a quicker, easier process than running it originally.

Using a combination of the TK and lightening auras to keep it hidden in the top corner of each car, he has it pull back like a long tentacle, reabsorbing the epoxy holding it in place and casting a Mending to repair any damage as it retracts. He finishes reassembling the plants in their pots just a moment before they pull into the station.

“Why are Drift and Wind standing with that pony?” Rising asks, pointing a hoof out the window.

Cure hops up on the bench next to her, finding the three along with three Royal Guard pegasi. The mare in question is a white pegasus, only a hoof taller than Wind, with a white coat, pink mane, and a cutie mark depicting the sun with small clouds on either side of it. He doesn’t bother holding back the eye roll when the six board the train as soon as it comes to a stop.

“Well let’s review the facts, RP. They went to deliver a letter to the princess and they, with three Royal Guards, were standing with a white coated mare with a sun cutie mark. Anypony wanna wager on who that is?”

“You think that’s the princess?!” she asks in a shout.

“Duh?” he maturely replies.

“It couldn’t be,” she insists, shaking her head no.

Baffled by her denial he can only ask, “What? Why?”

“She was too short,” Dawn explains.

“Yeah, dude,” Heavy adds, “she doesn’t have a horn either.”

“I didn’t see a crown,” Ferric supplies.

Deed nods in agreement, “Maybe it’s her aide?”

Cure looks at the gathered ponies in utter bewilderment. “But… she … wait, are you all messing with me?”

“Huh uh, the princess had a prettier mane, too,” Cherry points out.

“Mmhmm,” Lotus agrees. “It was soft and swooshy too!” she shouts waving her hooves about.

“Yeah, the princess doesn’t have a pink mane or tail, Cure,” Dawn explains. “You had to have noticed that when you met her.”

“Yep,” her brother agrees, “That was definitely not her.”

“The pink was pretty, though,” Glacial observes. “It was really close to your color, Mrs. Search.”

Said mare beams at the compliment. “Aww, thanks, sweetie. Hear that, Savvy babe? Cure’s fillyfriend thinks our coats are pretty!”

Sapphire walks up to Cure, wraps him in a hug, and plants a big kiss on his cheek. “It’s okay, Cure. You’re just overtired, that’s all.” She gives him a friendly nuzzle before backing away.

“Coast, you believe me, right?” Cure asks, turning to his sister’s older, reverse color twin.

She takes a moment to look between literally everypony else and the colt, then slowly nods in agreement. “Sure, I believe you, Cure. That’s definitely Princess Celestia in disguise.”

“Oh, good,” he says with a relieved sigh. “I was starting to get worried y’all had some spell on ya or something.”

As soon as he turns away she twirls a hoof by her head and mouths “crazy” to everypony else.

“Well whoever it is,” he rolls his eyes again, “I better go make sure the prisoners are ready for her. I’ll be right back,” he yells, quickly running to the next car over giggling mischievously the whole way. He trots back in the room only a moment later barely holding back a laugh, getting confused and slightly worried looks from everypony. “So is the mare that’s definitely not the princess here yet?” he teasingly asks.

“I think so,” Starlight says, pointing at the door, “somepony’s here, at least.”

Cure turns as the door slides open and, before anypony else can make it through, a purple missile flies in, latching onto Cure, wrapping around him in a blur of feathers. The blur materializes into a blue maned filly, kissing and nuzzling all over the colt and babbling excitedly well beyond speeds any mortal could possibly understand.

“It worked?” he asks, not even able to get a look at Drift’s flanks.

“It did,” the white mare answers with a smile and a nod as she enters the car. “Greetings, everypony. I’m -”

“Sunny Skies?” Cure asks, catching the mare by surprise. All the other foals are staring in shock at Drift and her new mark while listening in.

“... Yes? I’m sorry, have we met before, young stallion?”

As the two chat, Wind and the three guards make their way in the room. Despite her sister still latching onto Cure, now laying on his back with her wings and legs wrapped around his barrel and chest, Wind gives him a quick nuzzle and moves aside.

“Hmm… maybe. I could be mistaken, I suppose,” he concedes. The mare certainly smells like the princess and, to his heat sense, feels warmer than normal, but if she’s trying to maintain a disguise he doesn’t want to ruin it more than he already has.

A quick glance at his parents makes him think they’ve come to the same conclusion. They’re definitely picking up the scent and heat; at least his sire, dam, and Title have caught it. Amethyst and Lemon lacked the heat sensors and improved sense of smell at her last visit.

“Be that as it may, the princess dispatched us to verify the state of the alleged… I believe ‘brigands’ was the word you used?” she asks with a smirk.

There’s a group-wide snort of laughter at the antiquated term. Cure ignores the laughing, focusing on the mare. “Drift, did you see the princess show my letter to anypony?”

“No, but she took it with her” she answers, still nuzzling into his mane. “She read it then told me she,” she points to Sunny, “would meet us with guards to come until a full platoon could be sent and had us wait for them,” she now motions to all four, “on a balcony. Then we flew here.”

The mare’s smirk falters, but she quickly rallies. “I was informed of the contents of the letter,” she defiantly explains.

“Uh huh,” he noncommittal mumbles. “Well, right this way, please,” he says, waving to the back of the car. Drift gives him one last nuzzle as she climbs off his back, then runs over to tackle Glacial in a hug.

Starlight leans over to her coltfriend and whispers, “Shouldn’t his parents be taking care of this?”

“I’m pretty sure Cure can take care of it just fine,” he replies.

Cure leads Sunny and her guards back through the car. When a couple of the fillies begin to follow, Deed calls them back, insisting they don’t need to see the “bad ponies” that tried to steal Cure’s trees. The guards stop just inside the cargo car while the mare follows Cure past the initial entryway.

Sunny is apparently unprepared for the scene she walks into. The minotaurs, zebras, and ponies are all spread amongst the room, sat upon luggage and shelves like they themselves have been packed away; a necessity with the limited space and the number of beings. A single vine leads to each one, hooking into an arm or foreleg, and sitting atop each one’s forehead is a red silk bow.

“Why… do they have bows on them?” is the first question that comes to mind.

Cure outright guffaws at the question. “Well,” he pauses to stop laughing for a moment. A few of the security ponies chuckle at the scene as well. They’d looked at him weirdly when he ran in the room and made the shrubs sprout a bunch of bows all the sudden, but they thought it was funny enough they agreed to slap one on each prisoner while he went back to fetch the group. “I didn’t have time to wrap them, ya see? So I figured I should at least put a pretty bow on each one.”

“Cure Wave…” she starts in the kind of tone that can only be pulled off by somepony who is just flat out done with the day. She lets out an exhausted sigh and points a wingtip at a few of the zebras. “Regardless of their state,” she gives the snickering colt another exasperated look, “I recognize some of them. They were at the Gala three years ago.” She points at another. “That one is a suspected… well, I suppose not anymore, operative. I don’t recognize any of the ponies or minotaurs.”

“Hey Uncle Lucky,” Cure calls, getting the stallion’s attention. “Can you all give us a few, please? I don’t think they’re goin anywhere now. The Guard’s here and the princess has been informed. Ms. Sunny and I have everything under control.”

“Ya sure, colt? I’d really rather leave at least one here.”

“I appreciate it, but even if they woke up right this instant they wouldn’t be able to walk for an hour, let alone get out of those bindings or put up some kinda fight.”

Lucky looks around at the group of secured prisoners. He shares a glance with Arcane who gives him a shrug and a nod. “Alright colt. I’ll leave Boulder,” he motions to a muscular earth pony mare, “outside if ya need anythin.”

“Thanks, Uncle Lucky. Thanks, everypony!” he calls as the security team files out of the room.

Cure walks up to the mare, leaning his withers against her chest and giving her chin a supportive nuzzle. “Heavy is the head, huh?”

She sighs again and he feels her nod. “Saw right through it, didn’t you?”

“Yep. Don’t worry, it’s not your fault ya make such an impression. Besides… Sunny? I mean… come on! Really?!”

Shrugging her wings she defends, “In the seven centuries I’ve used this alias only a hooffull of ponies have figured it out.”

“Is that some weird mind control thing or are most ponies just that naive?”

“The latter. If at all possible, I would prefer to avoid using any form of mind control, even relatively benign ones, for something so mundane as a disguise.”

“True. Mind control crap is one of my biggest fears. That’s one thing I wanted to talk to you about since my talent’s kinda… ya know,” he says, waving to the group.

“All of them? Yourself?”

“Everypony has to breathe. I’ve been working in a hospital and clinic, and there’s a lot of painkillers and sedatives that are found in nature. Only the dose makes the poison, princess.”

“Indeed. Mental defenses are not something I can teach you in a single weekend, but…” she lets out another tired sigh, looking over the cramped room. “Well… we will discuss this later.”

“Ya know, I figured you would be inordinately pissed about this whole mess. You seem awfully chill about it.”

“Oh I assure you, I am well beyond furious, Cure. When you’ve had as much experience dealing with foolishness as I have, you learn to control your emotions.”

“I suppose,” he agrees with a nod. “I said something along those lines to my sire once.” He feels her look down curiously at him. He glances up and explains, “I told him you probably have to have a lot of control over your emotions or you could slip up and cook some idiot.” She doesn’t quite wince, but the start of a cringe passes over her face at the suggestion, and Cure wonders if that may have actually happened once before.

“Well, regardless,” he continues, “we probably need to figure out what we’re doing about the luggage in here, not to mention how you would like to go about taking custody, transport, and all the other crap that goes along with this sorta thing.”

She pauses, looking down at the colt still leaning against her. “You don’t act like most ponies do around me. In fact, you do not act like a foal at all.”

“I figure you get enough flank kissing from everypony else. Also, my talent shows me a lot of stuff a foal probably shouldn’t see. Besides, as you know and as history has shown, it’s too dangerous in the hooves of somepony that’s immature.”

“True,” she concedes. “I will have them transported via closed carriages to the castle. We don’t actually have room in the dungeons for so many, but there’s a Guard barracks that can be easily converted. Why do the minotaurs have ‘Fool’ written on them?”

“Their leader said their honor demanded they fulfill the obligations of their agreement. I told them they had no honor, taking a job to attack a car full of foals, and that I would label them as cowards for all to see. I felt that ‘Fool’ was more appropriate given they at least had the guts to try, though, so I went with that instead.”

“Guts to try?” she asks, giving him an evaluating look. “Four minotaurs against a hooffull of security ponies in an enclosed train is not so one sided a fight, I would imagine.”

“I used a trick on ‘em. Like I said, this was all me. We’ll talk about that later too, I reckon.”

“Hmm. They may seek vengeance for the insult someday. You do realize this?”

“If they have the opportunity to, I will be very disappointed in the Equestrian justice system. Besides, I only changed the top layer colors. They’ll go back to normal in a few weeks.”

“Ah. A warning of what may have been,” she says, nodding in understanding. “Regardless, you are right; they likely will not be free for quite a long time. The judge will certainly factor that their crime is against a foal. The others as well. Come, let us see if my guards have arrived.” She leans down and gives him a quick nuzzle, then turns to walk back outside, pausing to look over her withers at the door. “Oh, and Cure?”

“Hrm?”

“I realize this is not your fault, but please try not to create too much more work for me while you are here.”

The innocent smile he gives her does not inspire confidence.

Author's Note

So I had previously said I would like to release the Canterlot arc in shorter, faster bursts. Then I started writing and the chapters are loooooooong. Add in the fact that I got kinda hooked to a game I bought... yeah.

60 & 61 are done, 62 is, I hope more than half way done (it's around 7k right now). I expect 63 to be longer, then 64 should wrap up the arc according to my plans, but I think by now everyone has a fairly good idea of how absolutely freaking awful I am at sticking to those. The tentative plan is for maybe 5-6 more chapters before the end of the story year, but... yeah. We'll see how that goes (insert eye roll here).

Spoiler for something in the chapter - Really don't read this if you skipped to the A/N first, unless you want to know something that happens about 80% of the way through.
Drift gaining her mark may strike some as oddly simple. This is touched on in-story a couple times over the next chapter or two.

As for the parents barely batting an eye at everything that happened? They've been getting mentally prepped for something crazy for MONTHS now. They're the only beings on the planet (that we know of!) that have a fairly good idea of just how ridiculously dangerous Cure really is. The only real surprise for them at this point is that he was so merciful in his methods of subduing them, something that will be addressed later as well.

As always, thanks for reading!

Chapter 60: Arrival

Thursday, April 30th, 909 AB (Immediately after)

If it weren’t for the princess’s help, Cure is certain that cleaning up the mess from the train would have been a massive pain in the ass. Fortunately Sunny has the full authority of the princess as far as the Royal Guards are concerned, and after a couple thousand years of experience she knows how to get shit done.

Cure’s friends and family, minus his sire, were taken to the palace first. He’d completely forgotten to surprise them with the news that they were staying there because of everything else going on. At least he’d been present when they were told by Sunny that their rooms are waiting for them.

Thanks to Ed’s memories, Cure knows that children can get so excited they’re nearly drunk with euphoria. Alanna would get like that every Christmas Eve, after all. At least that high didn’t set in until it was about time for her parents to take her home, though, so Ed didn’t have to endure much of the unleashed, unfiltered craziness.

Despite how much he adores his friends, being stuck with eight excited (Heavy and Wind tried their best to maintain a cool facade), vibrating foals in an enclosed carriage for the thirty minute ride to the palace sounds like a special kind of hell to the colt. Thankfully his dam has the patience of a saint and volunteered to ride with them while the rest of the moms and his three sisters went in a second carriage.

A third, with equally heavy Guard escort, was required to transport his plants. He asked that they be put in a separate room for now, though he declined, for the time being, giving the princess any hint as to what exactly they are or what he can do with them. The fact that he used two to safely sedate and hydrate twenty six creatures should be clue enough, he figures.

Cure, Deed, Lucky, Arcane, and the other five security ponies stayed until the prisoners were loaded up. He accepted the necessity of staying with the guards, he just didn’t care for it. He wasn’t sure whether it was because he was cranky and overtired or he just wanted to be with his friends, but Cure had a hard time not doing something vengeful to the prisoners when he withdrew their IVs.

Initially the security team was going to take the rooms Deed had arranged when setting up the trip, as they had the sleeper cabs on the train, but the princess insisted they take the rooms at the Rosewood Canterlot hotel that the castle keeps on reserve for foreign dignitaries.

Cure had been under the assumption that most diplomats would stay at the palace, but in retrospect that was kind of dumb. Not every foreign diplomat that’s visiting is from a country that Equestria is on good terms with. Also, not everyone is here specifically for the princess herself. Though she is responsible for more than a single being probably should be, she’s not the only point of contact for everything that happens everywhere in the capital.

It takes four more carriages to transport the prisoners. The minotaurs were separated by necessity; apparently it had been quite some time since there was a need to detain so many beings at once and the normal prisoner transport vehicles weren’t designed for their body shapes. Mass-wise they’re not any larger than Deed, but the different configuration just took up more room, especially when placed in the regulation hoof and handcuffs.

Celestia’s captain, a beige unicorn mare named Stalwart Shield, asked Cure to remove those so the guard could affix their own restraints. The thick silk cords were very difficult to cut and he could take them right off, so he was happy to help. The only remaining issue was getting the luggage that had been blockaded by bodies to the travelers that were inconvenienced.

Royal Guard logistics officers took names, addresses, and hotel info when the railroad workers identified anyone that had stuff back there, so they would get their luggage later in the day.

The worst part of the fiasco came after the immediate issues were addressed. Once the prisoners were removed, the captain tried to piece together what had happened. Cure wasn’t about to share his full capabilities with the mare, so he intentionally left out details about exactly how he managed to subdue everyone. He didn’t think that was the important part and repeatedly insisted that information is irrelevant and the captain should focus more on identifying whoever sent the mercenaries after him.

With his sire backing the colt there was little she could do to compel him to give details. Especially since his argument isn’t wrong; with no injuries and no damaged property there was nothing she could point at to demand an explanation about.

The fact that the colt is a guest of the princess and insists he’ll share any details she asks means that, ultimately, if her highness deems the information important enough to share she will find out eventually anyway.

The whole episode took nearly three hours from the time the train rolled in around seven to when Deed and Cure were finally allowed to leave. The pair were loaded up and escorted to the palace, riding along with the captain and her lieutenant in an opulent royal carriage. Sunny had flown ahead a couple hours earlier once her captain arrived and was given her orders.

Cure had, over the previous four months, played out the sequence of events in his mind dozens, if not hundreds of times. He imagined the happy and excited look on his friends’ and parents’ faces as they rolled up to the palace. He could easily envision the joy they would radiate while being shown their rooms for the first time, or even the awe of just walking through the palace corridors on the way.

That the opportunity was denied to him, never to happen again left an angry, bitter feeling in his gut. The more he thought about it, the more furious he became until, finally, he felt a hoof settle on his withers and turned his head up to meet his sire’s concerned face. “Your… uhh… talons, son. And your eyes,” he whispers, trailing off while looking down.

Cure furrows his brow and looks, finding that he had indeed sprouted talons in place of his forehooves. Closing his eyes, he focuses on his mark. Not only does he have talons, but his eyes had slitted and his teeth had sharpened as well. He quickly reverts the changes, opening his eyes to wary looks from the two officers who had shifted slightly further away.

“Just overtired and angry about this whole mess,” he insists. Looking to the officers he explains, “I was up from midnight until about three dealing with the goon squads. As you can imagine, finding over two dozen creatures trying to foalnap you doesn’t result in the best night’s sleep. It’s not like I could completely fall asleep before or after, either.”

“Why was a foal dealing with any of that?” the captain testily asks, looking at Deed.

“Because I was the best pony for the job, captain,” Cure snaps out before his sire can answer. “Which do you think is better suited to deal with them, a foal who can knock everypony out harmlessly or a real estate pony? I could also ask why the three alleged guards on the train weren’t there instead, or were they not really guards at all, hmm?”

“Easy, son, calm down,” Deed insists, wrapping a foreleg over Cure and pulling him into his side. Meeting the unicorn's eyes, he seconds his son's assertion. “The colt’s talent makes it easy for ‘em ta knock somepony out without havin ta fight ‘em. He’s right. It was the best way ta get here without anypony gettin hurt.”

Fortunately the lieutenant, a light purple pegasus mare named Gliding Spear, isn’t completely oblivious and interjects before the captain lets her mouth get away from her. “Biomanipulation, you said?” Cure nods and she asks, “I get that could be used to render somepony unconscious, but how’d you tie them up like that?”

The distraction from the pretty feathered mare is very effective. Cure brightens up and spends the rest of the trip explaining, “Well you see silk is just a length of protein fibers…”

By the time the carriage came to a stop in front of the palace Cure was pretty sure he had made a new friend. The lieutenant apparently wasn’t only trying to distract the colt from her captain’s gaffe; she legitimately was interested in what all he was capable of. Though not her intent, she wasn’t foolish enough to turn down the beautiful flight suit Cure ended up making for her along the way.

She was a bit bewildered when he told her that he kept a compressed bit pouch full of “crafting material” even if he lacked both the spare zipper and the necessary crystal dust to get the suit up to his demanding standards, but he all but insisted she provide escort for he and his family when they return to the train station on Sunday. That, he told her, would give him an opportunity on Saturday to stop by a shop or two and get the last few things he needed to put the finishing touches on.

Deed was relieved his son chose to quickly move on from the captain's insinuation. In his opinion the mare’s question wasn’t out of line but given his son’s lack of sleep and overall angry mood the timing could certainly have been better. Fortunately he got the opportunity, before separating, to explain that his son was intensely protective of his family and, indeed, had not gotten enough sleep the night before, nor several nights prior due to his anticipation of some kind of attack.

Cpt. Shield accepted the explanation well enough. She looked a little envious of her subordinate, but her pride would never allow her to say anything. The pair departed upon their arrival to oversee the prisoners' incarceration and begin interrogations.

As Cure and his sire approach the palace the pair pause for a moment to take it all in. Cure can’t quite shake the feeling that the whole place looks nearly as cartoonish in real life as it does in the show, though he supposes that the bright colors and spotlessness are a lot easier to manage with magic like Prestidigitation and Cleaning.

Ed hadn’t seen many royal estates in his life, but he’s pretty sure purple colored stone wasn’t normal for places like Buckingham or the Winter Palace. It’s all very trippy and bizarre. Visually, it’s neat but the aesthetic isn’t what he would want for his own home. Of course the last thing he would want to do is offend his hostess, so he plays the part of an excited, awed colt as best he can.

It ends up being unnecessary at the moment, though, as a seemingly common guard comes to escort him and his sire to the guest rooms where his friends and family are awaiting their arrival. He's slightly disappointed at the lackluster greeting, but figures the princess is busy doing princess things or, more likely, dealing with the consequences of the shitshow that got dropped on her withers.

It’s nearly an hour before lunch when Cure finally separates from his sire just outside the door where the rest of the foals are gathered. Deed scoops him up, squeezes him in a tight hug, and tells him he “done good” keeping his family safe, even if no actual fighting was involved.

The reassurance that his sire is proud of him is comforting even if mentally, in many ways, Cure is an adult. Nopony is ever too old to be told their parents are proud of them, after all.

After being assured his plants are in the next room over, Deed goes in the door across the hall with his wives and daughters, and Cure enters the room with his friends. “Hey everypony,” he tiredly calls as he walks in the room.

The suite is quite a bit more than just one room. It’s a living room area, an enormous bedroom, bathroom, a balcony, and a small dining area that’s large enough for half of the foals to eat at the same time.

Most of them are piled on the two couches chatting away while Drift gives, Cure assumes, the hundredth retelling of her getting her mark. Heavy, Coast, and Wind are on the balcony looking out over the city, but they turn and reenter the room as soon as they hear the door open.

“Cure!” the herd replies in unison.

“It’s spreading,” he narrates in an odd accent. “Interesting. I wonder what the infection vector is. Also, ironic that the effect is to shout ‘cure’ all at once. As if they’re… looking for something to save them.”

Drift leaps and spreads her wings, meeting him halfway between the door and the couch with a warm, enveloping wing hug. “Stop being a doofus,” she insists, nuzzling into his cheek, “how’d you know I would get my cutie mark?! That’s supposed to be impossible!”

“What?” he asks, looking at the rest of the group. They’d gathered at the foot of the bed quietly listening in. “I mean… you said you wanted to travel and thought some kind of courier thing would be neat. I thought it was obvious?” he questioningly explains. “I figured if flying off a moving train up a mountain to make an urgent delivery from one of the most important ponies in the world to another didn’t do the trick then it wasn’t your destiny.”

She gives him a flat look, “I’ll let that one slide for now.”

He just smiles back, asking, “I haven’t even seen it yet, what’s it look like?”

Separating from the hug, she turns and shows him. Much like other marks of destiny, its design is rather basic. On her dark purple coat a simple, light brown box is depicted with two pairs of white wings stretched out, one ahead of the other and both seemingly propelling the box forward. Worth noting; the sets of wings have different designs with each matching the variable configuration modification Cure had proposed but not yet given to either of the pegasi.

“Wow… did you notice the wings?” he asks.

Excitedly nodding, she reaches up and prods him in the chest, “Have you been able to come up with anything? It’s been months!”

“Uhh… I have, sort of. It’s not quite so simple, though. The bones, muscles, and ligaments are largely the same between them, but feather placement changes, as does thickness in some spots. I would have to make some pretty significant changes to your wings to give you the ability to actually alter the surface shape and shift primary and secondary feathers enough to change the way air flows over them.

“It would take adding new musculature and additional feathers that you can fold up when switching to ‘falcon mode’ if ya know what I mean. I still haven’t even scanned a falcon, so…” he trails off with a shrug.

“Do it!” she immediately shouts, then nuzzles under his chin with a softer, more demure, “Please, Cure.”

He lets out a sigh and nods into her, sitting on his haunches and wrapping her in a chest-to-chest hug. “Sit still a sec,” he instructs. The other fillies, along with Heavy, watch in interest as Drift’s feathers reconfigure into the tightly packed, angular falcon configuration while new ones grow out, folding into place.

They can’t see the movement and alterations under the skin, but after numbing the region Cure is also adding a series of small muscles and ligaments modified with his tougher designs that are currently pulling the feathers into their configuration.

When he’s finished he asks her, “Okay, feel how this muscle right here,” he causes a small twinge in the muscle at her shoulder, “is drawn up?”

“Yeah?”

“Spread your wing and relax it.”

Nodding, she looks over her left shoulder, spreading her wing out wide and allowing the muscle to untense. As it does the feathers that are tightly pulled together relax, spreading back into the more eagle-like arrangement and giving the flatter, wider look. Her head snaps back to look at the colt and, before he can react, she’s wrapped both forelegs and wings around him and presses her lips against his cheek.

“Hey now, don’t thank me until you’ve tried it,” he insists, nuzzling against her. “I’ll change them permanently when we go back home but until we’re out of the capital I think it best to keep normal wings, okay?” She nods and the two separate with Drift immediately running to the balcony and leaping off. “Uhh… did we get permission to fly around the palace?” he asks the group.

Wind gives him a nod explaining, “Yep. They told us that as long as we stay out of the way of the patrolling guards that they’ve all been told we have free rein in the unsecured areas of the castle. Why do you keep calling it a palace?” she asks, tilting her head.

“Castles are military installations built for defense. This is a palace; a display of wealth with minimal security. That there’s a wall and barracks nearby is a moot point when there’s a couple hundred huge, wide-open windows and dozens of doors. I bet I could pretty easily get just about anywhere in this place that isn’t magically warded.”

“Ah… hey Cure?” she starts.

He just rolls his eyes, still sat on his haunches, and beckons her over with a hoof, “Come on.” The taller, older filly doesn’t waste a second stepping into the hug. “Glacial, you too?” he asks over Wind’s shoulder.

She thinks about it for a moment and slowly shakes her head no. “I think I would rather learn to fly with those at home. I don’t want to crash into the cas… palace or anything.”

“Good point,” he agrees as he releases Wind. Though she doesn’t give him a smooch she does still thank him and give him a departing nuzzle before joining her sister.

With the sisters out flying about the fillies all turn their attention back to the colt. “So,” Rising asks, “why did you have to stay behind?”

Cure lets out a sigh, walking around the left side of all the girls on the couch and hopping up to join them. He flops on his right side as he begins his explanation. “Mainly I had to stick around because they needed me to free the would-be thieves that came last night.”

Heavy and Coast hop on the other couch and, when they lay on their barrels side to side, get a curious look from the colt. He’s distracted when Dawn turns around and lays her head on his left shoulder. Ferric quickly moves behind him, laying on her barrel against his back. Her sister follows, laying across her withers while Rising climbs up on his left haunch and Glacial flops between his legs as the little spoon, pushing her head up under his chin and Dawn’s neck.

“I had changed one of my plants to act as basically an IV machine… do you all know what that is?”

Dawn nods, “Dam’s told me about them. She works with the surgical teams, remember?”

“Oh yeah.”

She looks to the rest of the girls and quickly explains, “It’s a machine that feeds medicine into your veins slowly over time. They use them in hospitals for lots of stuff.”

“Exactly,” he agrees. “So my tree was slowly feeding them something like opium overnight to keep them sedated. I’d also hogtied them with silk cords so, even if they woke up, they wouldn’t be able to move. The guards that came didn’t have a good way to take the bindings off, so I had to remove that so they could use their own hoofcuffs and stuff. Also, using a drug like that; it’s not good for the body, so…”

“You had to heal the jerks that tried to come steal your plants?!” Glacial all but shouts.

“Eh, yeah. Basically. That’s the thing, though, ya know? Once you’ve beaten somepony you kinda hafta take care of them. Trust me, it was not easy holding back from doing something mean to them, but that probably would have gotten me in a lot of trouble.”

He feels Rising nod against his side. “I don’t think the princess would like that either.”

Ferric bumps his forehead with her cheek and asks, “How many were there?”

“Nowhere near enough to matter,” he answers. “I’d rather not say. I don’t want you all to think you’re in danger.”

“So, a lot?” Heavy asks.

Cure wraps his forelegs around Glacial’s chest and pulls her back against his barrel. “I guess it depends on your definition of a lot. More than one group, though, yes. Few enough I could take them all out without any actual fighting.” Hoping to change the subject he asks, “Did anypony tell you all what the plan is for the day?”

“Mhmm,” Dawn humms, nuzzling against the side of his neck. “There’s a small dining room down the hall where we’ll have lunch. Just us, Solar, Star, and your family,” she clarifies.

Coast picks up from there excitedly explaining, “The guard that brought us said we would be escorted to the throne room to meet her highness at four. She’ll be finished with court by then and we’ll be presented to her highness and get officially welcomed to the castle in a private ceremony afterwards!”

“Ceremony?” he warily asks.

“Not like that,” she answers. “It’s just a formal ‘hello and welcome’ thing. We were worried too when he said that.”

“Yeah, dude, the guard said it’s just how her highness formally welcomes important guests to the castle. Palace. Whatever. He said it would have happened this morning but because of everything,” he trails off with a shrug.

Glacial twists her neck so her cheek nuzzles into his chin. “Are we giving her the presents then?” she asks.

“Uh huh. Probably,” Cure quietly mumbles. The girls all trade looks and come to a silent agreement.

“Cure?” Dawn softly calls, nosing at his cheek. “We’re going to lunch soon. How about we take a nap afterwards? You seem pretty tired.”

“Okay. That sounds nice,” he quietly agrees, gently squeezing Glacial and nuzzling up into Ferric’s foreleg.

The girls continue to softly talk, but it all becomes background noise to the exhausted colt. Once again, it feels as if he barely closes his eyes before a knock at the door brings him from nearly asleep to only a slight stupor.

Lunch, while nice, wasn’t anything spectacular, to his disappointment. Cure suspected that what the princess told his parents months ago wasn’t an exaggeration. His dam was certainly delighted when he nuzzled into her chest and told her that her meals were just as delicious even if there was a wider selection of food presented. It was only lunch, though, not a big elaborate dinner like he was expecting would happen the coming evening.

Cure’s parents were invited to and elected to accept sitting in on Celestia’s court. He was invited as well, but he had plans for his official meeting with the princess, and didn’t want to tip his hoof off early, so he used his exhaustion as an excuse to avoid it.

After returning to his room with his friends they all piled together on the bed and took a nap, waking a couple hours later at three so they can all get ready to be officially presented to her highness. The foals all showered in the large, ornate bathroom. Even though it was big they still had to split into two groups. More or less completely acclimated to pony life, Cure doesn’t even bat an eye at the communal bathing anymore.

With all of the things brushed, dried, and otherwise prepared, the whole gang gathers in the next room over with the trees.

“So… are ya really gonna do it, son?” Deed asks, looking over his son’s grown out wings and horn.

“You bet. I can’t think of a reason not to. If anything, this’ll even further screw over those jerks that tried to come last night.”

Solar nods in agreement. “I’ve thought sharing everything with the princess is a good idea since the get-go. I say do it, Cure. I’ve got your back.”

The other foals all agree and cheer Cure on, especially Dawn and the pegasi. They’ve been wanting Cure to come out of hiding for the longest so they can go to the range and go flying without having to worry about a disguise or using an alias.

Vines and his moms all look on, the former a bundle of worry despite everypony’s reassurance. At least her son is looking his very best. His cerulean coat is immaculately trimmed and oiled. Small, decorative tufts of longer hair accent the tips of his ears, his chest, and hooves.

He has, for the first time she’s ever seen, added lighter and darker green streaks into his mane and tail. His large, pointed wings, while blue, sport a lovely dark green trim along the leading edge with a thin, lighter green trim along the trailing edge of each feather.

He’s even changed his horn a little, making it slightly longer than normal. Typically when he went to the range his horn was the same length as Dawn’s. Of course, he is slightly taller than her now, so an extra couple of centimeters doesn’t look too out of place. That didn’t stop Dawn or, oddly, Starlight from staring in slight awe for a moment, though.

Truthfully they weren’t the only ones staring; everypony was at least a little captivated by the eye-catching colt. He had spent time with each pony after their showers to give them the “straight out of the salon” look, but he looked more like he just soared out of some kind of fashion magazine.

“Alright,” he says, pulling Vines out of her thoughts. “I have half an hour to get these trees ready. Everypony remembers their flavor, right?”

At the round of nods, aside from Savvy, he focuses on the task at hoof. It only takes a few minutes to turn one of the shrubs into a hundred seeds, but the fruit he creates takes much longer. Just as he’s passing his sire the last set of fruits a guard knocks at the door to inform them her highness is ready to greet them.

The herd of foals all gather into a group with Ferric leading Cure as the senior most marked filly pursuing the colt. Drift takes her place on Ferric’s left and Dawn stands to her right. Rising and Glacial take his right and left respectively while Wind follows the younger crystal pegasus and Sapphire follows behind, bumping his haunch with the side of her head and giving him a big smile when he looks back. Heavy and Coast join to her right.

The parents do the same with Vines and Title to the front of their husband’s left and right; Lemon and Amethyst behind, the three dams carrying their daughter on their withers. Solar and Starlight stand slightly separated from the rest, though only a few hooves further away to show they are still part of the group.

The entourage is escorted through the castle, exiting the guest quarters, making several turns, and somehow ending up in the throne room reception chambers. With room to spread out the parents take the center of the group with the foals on the left and unicorns to their right.

The seneschal, if Cure has the right term, comes in and gives quick instructions on where to stop and how to properly bow and the correct address for the princess. The older white unicorn has obviously done this thousands of times, likely tens of thousands, because he seems to answer every possible question anypony could ask before they could even think to raise their hoof.

Solar had already given everypony the basics on address and bowing; a pony is to put their left forehoof forward, right front knee on the ground balancing on their cannon, or shin basically, with their head lowered but snout not touching the ground, eyes closed or cast down towards the ground. Unicorns are to turn their heads slightly right so horns are not pointed directly at the princess and pegasi are to slightly spread their wings in a gesture almost like a curtsey. No magic is to be used beyond simple levitation at any time inside the throne room.

Cure’s not sure he understands the horn thing. Obviously it’s meant to show that one is not a threat in any way, but it doesn’t really matter which direction a horn is pointing; there’s not a direct relationship between that and spellfire direction, after all.

He can only assume it’s some throwback to centuries or millennia ago and has evolved over time, similar to how the US military salute, as he understood, had origins related to knights lifting their helmet’s faceplate to identify themselves and show a lack of hostile intent.

He thinks back to the show and recalls that, in at least one memorable scene, Twilight did in fact lower her horn to fire blasts at the changelings, though in others she didn’t seem to point it in any particular direction.

In fact, during the invasion when Celestia fought Chrysalis she definitely did not point her horn at the queen, an inconsistency that stood out to Ed at the time. Perhaps, he ponders, it’s some kind of instinctual aiming mechanism that unicorns have baked in that he simply lacks and that only shows during high stress situations or novice fighters.

Neither Solar nor Dawn have ever shown a tendency to do that during their trips to the range, so it could very well just be a cartoon thing. He thinks the show depicted unicorns charging horn-first as well, but he knows from experience that if anything a unicorn will avoid melee and engage at range whenever possible.

Regardless, upon asking about giving gifts, the seneschal or steward advises that her highness be presented with them upon completion of introductions. When he notices the saddlebags that the parents are carrying he asks a guard to check their contents before allowing them in the throne room. It’s a good thing, Cure reflects, that they had surrendered the zebras’ items to Captain Shield, so Vines’ bag is only carrying her usual stuff and not who-knows-what kind of poison or caustic agent.

“Your majesty” is considered the most technically appropriate address but “your highness” is perfectly acceptable. Guests may switch to simply “princess” after the initial greeting, but her name is off limits without “Princess” immediately preceding it, and when speaking her name a pony should at least bow their head slightly.

Only a few seconds tick by, but the tension he feels causes the air to thicken into molasses. Though this will still be a somewhat private reveal, Cure is fully aware that this is it. The big moment he was afraid would happen eight months ago is now only seconds away. The last meeting with the princess went remarkably well. Nearly perfect, even.

He knows nothing bad should happen, but after months of concealing his capabilities he’s blasting them to one of the few beings that could easily stop him whenever she desired. Despite the unlikelihood of that happening, some paranoid, fearful part of his survival instincts scream at him to retract his wings and horn before it’s too late.

He closes his eyes, leans his head back, and takes a deep, calming breath. The gentle brushing of a cheek on his neck causes him to open his eyes, tilt his head, smile at Rising, and nuzzle the top of her snout in return. The two separate as the door opens wide.

The seneschal marches in before the group, and announces their presence in a normal voice that carries throughout the room. “Presenting Missus Spreading Vines, Title Search, Amethyst Blossom, Lemon Sweet, their husband Mister Clean Deed, their foals and friends, your majesty,” he intones, then drops in a shallow bow before stepping to the right, turning to his left, and sweeping his right hoof forwards, motioning for everypony to proceed.

To Cure’s relief, the only occupants of the large room are the princess, the steward, and approximately twenty guards standing at attention. A couple are just on the other side of the doors they’re walking through. Six more are arranged in two groups of three on either side of the ramp up to the throne. Another dozen are split between the left and right sides of the room near the walls.

Cure doesn’t notice any specific pattern with relation to tribe aside from the six stallions at the princess’s throne. Unlike the other guards, they seem less ceremonial and more “ready for business.”

The closest to the ramp are earth ponies with spears in their right hooves and large, round shields strapped to their left forelegs. The unicorns are next and, although they aren’t obviously displaying weapons, Cure can see a number of darts lining their armor on each side. The pegasi are the farthest in the formation with crossed blades slung across their barrels and the glint of steel barely visible beneath their wings.

With wings spread to nearly four and a half meters tall and standing atop the platform before her throne, Princess Celestia smiles down at the group as they march in slightly uncoordinated lockstep towards her. Cure once again can only marvel at her magnificence. Here, in the very heart of her demesne, she has no need for subtlety, no reason to be discreet. She isn’t sneaking off to quietly visit a secretive foal. She is radiance itself.

The very air carries her power like hanging pollen saturating the room; an ethereal mist of magical might eager to jump at the command of its master. Its flavor is warm, and seems to wrap the group in a comforting, caring embrace, gently nudging them to their place below Her Majesty.

Though there’s little time for observation and his focus is on the occupants, particularly the nearly glowing demigod towering over them all, it seems to him that the general look of the room is pretty close to what he recalls from the cartoon. The only glaring difference is the throne itself. It’s raised up slightly higher and is more like a couch than a chair.

It’s logical given pony body shapes; the high backing throne in the show never really made any sense to Edward given that a pony would be immensely uncomfortable, not to mention showing all their goods, if they were sat on their rear leaning back. The royal couch is every bit as regal and elegant as a ruler’s should be, though, despite the design clearly being made to be comfortable.

With how many hours she supposedly spends on the thing, Cure would hope that over the years she would have, at some point, hired a competent ergonomist. The practical side of his mind approves wholeheartedly of her choice. When one must use or wear something for hours on end, after all, comfort is king.

The group marches forward then, as a unit, comes to a stop and drops into a bow. Though a drill sergeant would scream their coats right off of them for the lack of coordination and timing, the group does a fairly decent job of matching each other, especially since most of them are foals that have to take a step and a half or two to keep up with the adults.

“Greetings, your majesty,” Vines nervously calls out.

“And greetings to you, my little ponies. Please, sta… WHAT?!” she suddenly shouts.

Time halts.

All eyes open and, still bowed, dare to look up at the princess. Celestia’s wings, previously open and spread up regally, are now cocked diagonally to the side and fully unfurled; a position the pegasi recognize immediately as shock or surprise.

It’s not difficult to figure out why; her eyes are locked directly on Cure. The colt silently gives thanks to Harmony he had the foresight to address all of his biological needs before coming, because otherwise he’s almost certain he would be pissing himself at the moment.

Celestia regains her composure, somewhat, and shakily continues. “Please, everypony, stand.”

Breathing resumes.

“Young Mister Cure Wave, could you please come forward?”

“Yes, ma’am,” he agrees. Lightening himself, he rears back on his hind legs, hops, and gives his wings a flap, easily floating over the dark red filly. Conscious of where the seneschal said to stop, he approaches the ramp to the throne and drops into another bow. “Your majesty,” he respectfully repeats.

“But this morning… You didn’t…” she finally stops, takes a deep breath, and simply asks, “When?!” in a near shout. Cure can’t believe his eyes. The princess is fretting on the platform above and before him. She nervously shifts her hooves and her wings haven’t stopped twitching since he landed in front of her. The agitation is impacting the guards as well, as they look warily back and forth between the two.

Cure knows what she’s really asking, but he also knows that nopony should know, so instead of simply saying “I never actually ascended” he instead answers her like he assumes a typical colt would if being asked when he first started using wings and a horn. “Umm… months ago? Your highness? I try not to let everypony know I can fly and use magic, though. I figured I should tell you first.

“Only my friends and Dawn’s parents know, but I only let them in on the secret a little while ago. I normally hide them,” he explains, retracting his horn, then folding his wings flat against his body. Rather than reabsorb them he thins them as much as possible and has the outside layer grow fur to blend in nearly seamlessly with his coat. It’s far from a perfect disguise, but it’s much quicker than completely absorbing and regrowing the wings.

“I should have felt your ascension… I don’t understand!” The princess releases a loud sigh. Realizing he is still bowing before her, she rolls her eyes and, with all regal bearing abandoned, casually says, “Stand up, Cure. Unbelievable…”

She drifts off for a moment, shaking her head in contemplation while he does, keeping his wings pressed against his sides. “You know,” she starts in a teasing tone, “for some unfathomable reason I thought this would be a normal visit. Until earlier today, that is. I certainly didn’t expect this though. Go ahead and… reveal them.”

“I wouldn’t want to bore her majesty by being predictable, though,” he teases back while reverting back to his winged, horned state. The slight clinking of metal on metal and hushed whispers coming from the awestruck guards lining the room reach his ears. The six sentinels, now understanding the princess's agitation, relax back to a ready position.

“No. I suppose you wouldn’t,” she agrees. She walks down the ramp to approach him, quietly telling the guards to be at ease as she passes by. Unsure what to do, Cure simply stands there unmoving. He is once again reminded of how tall she really is when she comes to a stop in front of him and begins inspecting him closely. “Are you aware of your domain?” she asks.

The question causes some quiet mumbling amongst the foals, but fortunately they, along with the adults, all remain mostly quiet while watching.

Deciding to keep playing the role of the unaware foal, Cure cocks his head to the side and repeats back in a questioning tone, “Domain, your majesty?”

Waving away the concern with a flick of her wing, she dismisses the question. “I would not expect it to come to you just yet. I have my suspicions, regardless. It will come with time, do not worry about that for now.” Sighing again, she quietly says to herself, “This will change everything. I can’t believe I didn’t feel it.”

She pauses. Her face morphs to a look of pure fury, scowling while looking to her right and growing noticeably hotter all of the sudden. In barely a whisper, yet audible throughout the room she growls, “And they dared attempt to take you.” Cure can see visible lines of heat roiling off the princess as her mane and tail brighten and her eyes begin to glow in hues of red and orange.

He steps forward, ignoring the warmth, and places a hoof gently on her foreleg at the knee. “Princess?” he softly calls. The action snaps her out of her building anger, causing her to visibly calm. “Ya okay, boss?” he asks with a smile.

Sighing again, she nods. “Yes. Today has not gone according to plan.” Looking to the rest of the group she adds, “I apologize for my outburst. I welcome you all to Canterlot, and to my home. I am quite disappointed that your trip here was as… difficult as it was. Needless to say, we are thoroughly investigating and questioning all of those involved.

“Though there are some things we need to discuss, I did not feel they were urgent enough that they could not wait until after we met, aside from one.” She looks over the parents as she continues. “The minotaurs and a single pony mentioned a large being that I am unfamiliar with. A bodyguard, I believe?”

Celestia doesn’t miss that the parents’ and Solar’s eyes all briefly flick to Cure. She looks down curiously as he explains, “That was the trick I mentioned, princess. There is no two and a half meter tall scythe-armed creature wandering about your city.” He pauses and clarifies, “Well, I hope there isn’t. There’s none that came with us, at least.”

“Ah. I would like to see this trick at some point. Apparently it was quite convincing; the minotaurs at first believed they had awakened in the afterlife when they came to, having fallen in battle against a superior foe.”

Smirking, he replies, “Well to be fair,” he dramatically pauses while buffing his hoof against his chest, then inspecting it. “They did.”

The comment gets a loud laugh from the princess while she nods in agreement. “I suppose they did.” With a wistful look she smiles down at Cure. “Oh, I am so very tempted to tell them they were defeated by a foal not yet nine years old.” Turning to face the group she approaches his dam while finishing, “Regardless, I believe if I wait any longer for introductions it would be terribly rude. Mrs. Vines, you are looking absolutely radiant, dear!”

Vines absolutely beams at the compliment, ducking her head while smiling broadly. “Thank you, your highness! Only another month and a half to go!”

“Oh! Hello, little one,” the princess gently calls, approaching Title and Savvy. “May I?” she asks, pointing a hoof at the little filly.

“Of course, your highness,” Title excitedly nods.

Unfortunately, Savvy isn’t too sure about the boss lady. As soon as Celestia leans in to get a closer look she dives into her dam’s mane, hiding her face from the princess but leaving her booty sticking up in the air. Celestia coos gently at the sweet girl and gives her a ridiculous looking pout. Between the softened expression and the calming voice, Savvy pokes her head out, getting a nuzzle from the ancient mare and giggling back at her.

Turning her attention to Deed next, she gives him a sly wink and a broad grin. “Hello, Mister Deed,” she warmly greets. She keeps the tone from being overly friendly, but the effect, not to mention the picture Cure planted in his brain when he pulled his pranks months prior, causes the stallion’s mane to stand on end. He still nods respectfully and greets her in return before she moves on.

She moves down the line greeting Amethyst and Lemon more formally and congratulates them on their marriage into the family. She gets an eager nuzzle from Lotus but Cherry rears up and gives the princess’s snout a hug instead.

Of course, the foals are all getting steadily more excited as she greets everypony by name. Even Solar is a stuttering mess when she greets him as “Private Solar Strike.” Starlight doesn’t do any better, barely getting the greeting out before turning to Solar and quietly squealing “The princess knows my name!”

Cure gets it; he really does. He has Ed’s memories of people absolutely losing their fucking mind when meeting someone they idolized. To a large number of the ponies of Equestria, Princess Celestia might as well be Jesus Christ and Elvis Prestley rolled into one, so it’s not a huge surprise when they nearly explode in glee anytime she looks in their direction.

He can only assume his indifference to her is due to some misplaced familiarity he feels from Ed’s memories of watching the fictional character. It dawns on him that this is something to be a little careful about. He may feel like he knows her, but as she pointed out earlier that morning his behavior comes off as unusual.

Then again, she seems either fine with it or maybe even appreciates that he doesn’t behave like others do. He feels awkward enough whenever somepony gushes thanks at him, so literal centuries of bowing and ass-kissing has to be absolutely fucking exhausting to put up with.

Walking back to the front of the group, she surveys the foals and lowers herself to her barrel so as to not tower over them. Even laying down she’s about as tall as his moms, and that’s excluding her massive horn.

“Cure, come introduce me to your friends. I think I know everypony’s name, but I would be absolutely mortified if I were to error. Of course,” she looks at Dawn, “I recognize Sergeant Haze’s filly and the private’s sister. Dawn Glow, correct?”

Unable to find her voice, Dawn just dumbly nods her head, living up to her name by glowing in excitement.

“Yep, that’s my Sunrise, future battlemage extraordinaire.” The praise brings a beaming smile to the filly and, despite her diminutive height compared to the princess, she stands tall and proud, chest puffed out and chin held high.

“Fantastic! I understand she is an entrepreneur like yourself.”

“You bet. She’s enchanted a whole bunch’a crystals for your guards and emergency responders in Baltimare. Between the quicker response times and them starting to use the Origin Cell Plants the citizens of Baltimare can rest well knowing that if something does go wrong, effective help is on the way.”

“Brilliant!” the princess cheers. “I suspect that should allow for a significant change in operations.” She pauses to look up at the seneschal and asks, “Could you remind me later to reach out to Captain Stance and the Baltimare RHA? I’m curious if they’ve developed a new ER model that could be implemented elsewhere.”

Nodding into a bow, the aged unicorn replies, “Of course, your majesty.”

“Good thinkin, princess. Next to her is Ferric Shine; she wants to be a smith in the Guard someday. Check out this awesome staff she made me for Hearts and Hooves!” Cure reaches up into his mane and pulls the staff right out of the bit pouch pocket he keeps up there. The move is done so quickly and smoothly that the princess does a double-take when he hoofs it over to her, staring at him even as she holds the staff.

He continues on as if nothing special happened, ignoring her wide-eyed look as he starts talking about it. “The staff itself is a real beaut but that’s only half of the set. The stand has an intricate snake winding up with little half loops that the staff slides down into. The level of detail on the scales is phenomenal!”

“You carry it with you?” Ferric asks, voice full of joy.

“You bet, Red! I never leave home without it!” He takes a half step forwards and gives the filly a warm nuzzle. “Those jerks are lucky I didn’t bust it out last night ta try ‘n pound some sense into ‘em.” Both foals suddenly notice the princess leaning over Cure, looking intently at his mane. The room is otherwise quiet, aside from Title poorly holding back a laugh at the puzzled mare.

“I left the stand at home,” he flatly explains, looking up to the princess. “It’s not in there. I mean… I could show you what it looks like,” he suggests, crossing his eyes to look up towards his horn, “if that’s okay?”

Celestia holds a hoof up momentarily. Her horn flashes with some unknown spell before she gives Cure a go-ahead nod. As she inspects the slowly rotating stand she holds the staff up to see the entire work as a whole. “That is wonderful work, especially for one so young!” she compliments the blushing filly. “We will certainly be thrilled to have you, should you decide to join.” Cure nods in agreement, dispels the Illusion and, when Celestia passes him back the staff, gives it a quick twirl before sliding it back into his pocket under her watchful eye.

“Where…?” she trails off, still staring, then rolls her eyes. “Never mind,” she sighs out, looking to Ferric’s side at Drift. “I see the young mare that just got her cutie mark. Congratulations, dear.”

Like Dawn, Drift is struck speechless, though she manages a grateful nod and a shallow bow.

“Yep, Crosswind Drift. She was my first ever cosmetic patient and really helped drum up a lot of my initial business, accidental as it may have been. Her older sister is over there,” he nods to the white filly, “Wind Shear. Their parents are both guards in Golden Hills.” He spreads a wing out and tilts it down, pantomiming at Drift. She gets the message and quickly ducks down in another bow and spreads her wings wide.

“My goodness! That’s a lovely wing design, Crosswind! Your colors complement it quite nicely as well. I can see why you drew so much attention.”

“Thank you, your highness!” she replies before standing and taking a step back.

“Glacial Breeze is behind her,” he says, waving her forward.

“Oh, yes! I recently corresponded with your dam and granddam. I believe there are only a few dozen ponies out there that have your unique coats. It’s been nearly two decades since the last mare escaped and she was a retiree.”

“They were both super excited to hear from you, your majesty! Thank you for writing to them.”

When Cure waves to her, Rising steps forward next, staring at the princess with stars in her eyes. Cure introduces her when she’s too flummoxed to speak herself. “Rising Pitch is a budding musician. We have an end-of-year talent show at school and I’m not ashamed to say I groveled and begged for her to do a sax solo for everypony.”

“Wonderful!” Celestia cheers. “I’ve always wished I had the talent for music. Alas, the ability to carry a tune eludes me even to this day.”

“I’m sure you have a wonderful singing voice, your majesty!” the filly gushes.

Cure shrugs, nodding in agreement. “I would love to hear it someday.”

At the colt’s suggestion the steward quietly mumbles, “Please, stars, no!” while nearly every guard in the room cringes. Even the six by the throne shudder briefly at the suggestion. The princess’s wings droop and she looks down pitifully while pouting.

At seeing all the reactions, Cure turns back to the pouty princess and gives her an impressed look. “Wow, boss… You must really be something. Well, I suppose we all have our weaknesses,” he sympathizes, patting her shoulder consolingly. “I’ll let you know if I ever find mine.”

“I can hardly wait,” she flatly replies.

“I’m sure. Delta Coast is the filly with the pretty coat color over there,” he waves for her to come forward. “She likes drawing, so I’m wondering if maybe she’s gonna be an architect someday.”

“Hello, your majesty! I’m so happy I get to meet you!”

“And I’m thrilled to meet you as well, my little pony.”

While she’s backing away Cure looks to Sapphire. He waves to her and she nearly pronks her way to the front. “Sapphire Sprint is my energetic friend here.” He leans into the princess to whisper, “She’s a tad odd,” then more loudly adds, “Her dam runs a jewelry store in town and helped me a lot this last Hearth’s Warming.”

“It’s very nice to meet you, Sapphire,” she warmly greets.

“Nice to meet you, your highness! Good color choice on the mane!”

Celestia giggles, nodding in agreement. “We nearly match, don’t we?”

“Mmhmm!” she hums while eagerly nodding in response before backing away.

“Wind Shear,” he waves her up, “I suspect is a future Wonderbolt. With the exercises we’ve been doing she’s gettin that wing power up there and her talent lets her make a turn so quick it’ll leave ya crosseyed.”

The compliments cause the older girl to blush, but she still gives a half bow and a respectful “Your majesty,” to the princess.

“That’s remarkable! I look forward to seeing your success, Wind Shear.”

“Thank you, your highness!”

“Last but not least is my bro, Heavy Lift,” he says as the gray colt steps forward. “Sorry for callin ya up last, bro. Ladies first, ya know?”

The statement gets an eye roll from his friend as he walks up to meet the princess. He apparently can’t think of anything to say other than, “My sisters are going to be so jealous I got to meet you!”

“Well then next time you visit perhaps they can come along. It is always such a treat for me to be able to meet the young colts and fillies that will, someday, help this nation continue to thrive.”

As Heavy backs away from the princess and rejoins the herd Cure clears his throat, getting a curious look from the princess. He moves so he’s standing a body length before her and drops into a formal bow. “If it pleases her majesty, my family, friends, and I would be honored to present to her a small token of our esteem.”

“My! So formal! Come now, rise,” she giggles while standing to her full height. “Cure, dear, you didn’t have to bring anything!” Despite her protest, Cure can feel the curiosity in her voice.

“Nonsense!” he declares, standing to his full, short, height. “Besides, I think you’ll change your mind once you see what we have. It’s in a spatial bag my sire’s carrying, so,” he leans right to look at the guards still standing at attention by the ramp up to the throne, “it was checked before we came in. Dad?” he calls over his withers.

Celestia meets her seneschal’s eyes and, by some unspoken command, he leaves the room only to reappear a moment later levitating a table. He sets it beside Cure, bows to the princess, and returns to his place by the side of the group without a word.

Deed had paused when the unicorn started moving, so now that everything is set up he comes forward and gives a bow, unsure whether he’s supposed to or not but figuring that if it’s good enough for the unicorn he should probably do it too.

He lays on his barrel next to his son so he can dig into the bag. Cure glances up and pouts at the princess, saying, “You can’t peek! It’ll ruin the surprise!” She giggles, but takes a few steps away, pretending to be looking elsewhere.

Using his horn to lay it all out, it takes Cure a couple moments to get everything organized. Once set up he steps to the side of the table and gives her a nod to indicate he’s ready. She turns to face him and waves her hoof for him to go on.

Deed moves back out of the way as he begins, “When we last met I gave you a small gift; one I hope you have had the opportunity to use on occasion,” he pauses at the gleeful smile and nod, smiling in return. “Nice! So, as you may have noticed I have kind of a theme going.”

“Plants?”

“You bet! Trees in particular. Dawn, Solar, and I, at one point, were chatting about how you have, no doubt, been given any number of priceless artifacts and such over your life. Dawn suggested that you may enjoy something you can grow yourself. Now, I suspect you have little free time to do so, but just in case,” he waves at the table with a wing.

The princess looks over the items on the table. She sees that Cure has arranged everything into two rows, each row having ten sets of items. Each set consists of five large, apple-like fruits of various colors along with five seeds roughly the size of an acorn. Sat at the front of each set is an index card folded in half like a small name placard.

Celestia takes a couple steps closer to the table to get a better look. When she reads a few of the cards her eyes bulge in shock, then she quickly turns to look at the colt in eager anticipation. “You didn’t!”

“Not alone, no. I had help. Lemon Sweet, in particular, was the creative genius behind many of them. Most are cake of the indicated flavor, a few are other desserts or treats like my bro’s over there.”

She moves close enough to the table and sits on her haunches, clapping her hooves in joy as she reads the names out loud. “Ah, I see. Heavy; chocolate chip cookie. Coast; blueberry muffin. Dawn; carrot cake. Oh my word! Wind, white cake with buttercream filling!”

“I thought that may be your favorite. Either that or this one,” he says as he points to the sign with his sire’s name on it.

“Deed, chocolate brownie! HAH!” Clapping in glee, she continues on. “Ferric; red velvet.” She pauses, looking between the named filly and the fruit for a thoughtful moment. “You picked desserts based on everypony’s coat?”

“Yup, mostly. Some were a little harder to come up with, like Drift and Glacial,” he explains, pointing at their signs.

“Hmm… Blackcurrant with lemon and blue raspberry. Yes, grape isn’t quite the right color and I’m uncertain why, but a grape flavored dessert strikes me as odd.”

“Yeah, I think grape juice would be fine, but not as a dessert,” he agrees. “Plus grapes are pretty good as is.”

“Pistachio?” she asks, looking at his own sign.

Shrugging, he sighs in defeat. “There’s only so many desserts in shades of blue or, in this case, green, so between Glacial, Coast, Saph, and myself… well,” he lets out a sigh. “I’ll not mention the other reason.”

“It’s ‘cause he’s a little nutty,” Sapphire sings out, drawling out the vowel sounds in nutty.

“And apparently I don’t need to,” he flatly comments, pressing on through the princess’s laugh. “Speaking of which, Saph’s is chocolate mint. There’s actually a few chocolate since, ya know… can’t have dessert without chocolate.

“Rising’s is a yellow cake with a chocolate flavored center, and by the time we got to Amethyst we kinda gave up on the coat theme, so we just went with a milk chocolate flavor. Heavy asked for his flavor, which works 'cause we couldn’t think of anything in gray and dark blue.”

“I see that,” she nods in understanding. “Black cherry cake and cinnamon bread for Mrs. Bloom and Mrs. Sweet’s daughters,” she comments, looking at the girls, then smiles before turning back. “Private Strike and Miss Starlight are strawberry and blackberry. Those do go well together,” she notes, turning to glance at the blushing pair.

“Yep. My dam’s is one we weren’t sure about for a dessert per se. I think it may be best with a meal instead of after.”

“Sweet lime flavored. Hmm… that could be quite refreshing if chilled on a nice summer day.”

“Exactly my thought. Or you may be able to make a smoothie with the fruit. I bet that would be good.”

“A… smoothie?”

“Yeah, you know… blend it up really good like a milkshake. Maybe squeeze the juice out and add some carbonated water to it to give it a little fizz. Or diced up in a salad. It’s quite a bit sweeter than an actual lime, as the name implies.”

“Hmm… those are excellent ideas. Now the lemon bars I am familiar with,” she says, glancing towards Lemon Sweet, “but I don’t recognize your mom’s flavor.” Pausing, she clarifies, “Oh! Apologies! I meant Mrs. Search’s flavor.” The two new moms just shrug in indifference. They know it’s an adjustment for everypony. The girls still get hung up calling Deed dad sometimes too.

“Cherry chip cake is delicious!” Cure declares. “It also has a chocolate flavored center because those two go together like peas and carrots, I’ll tell ya what.”

Amethyst scoots up next to her and plants a kiss on Title’s cheek, waggling her brows at the pink mare. Title giggles and gently bumps her away with her hip, careful not to disturb either of their daughters.

“And last, but certainly not least,” Cure declares, motioning to Savvy’s card, “cotton candy. We couldn’t think of anything better given her colors. Besides, I figure you must love the stuff,” he teases, looking up to her mane.

“Mmhmm. I ate so much of it my mane and tail turned into it.”

He takes a moment to look her over, voicing his own assumption. “Yeah, I kinda figured that’s probably how that happened.”

Looking over everything, the princess can’t help but smile broadly as Cure continues on. “Now these seeds will each grow a fruiting tree about the size of an apple tree. The fruit are pretty healthy, overall, and are packed with vitamins and nutrients and whatnot.

“You should probably limit yourself to ten or so a day because, despite them being overall good for you, it takes a lot of sugar to get the flavors right. I dunno, maybe check with your physician. Your constitution is such that it may not matter how many you eat. The trees will not produce more seeds, and that was done intentionally for one specific reason.”

She looks down at him curiously and he, in a serious tone, explains, “We want you to be a little selfish with these trees, princess. These are gifts, so of course you’re free to do what you see fit with them, but it is our hope that you, yourself, get more enjoyment out of them than anypony.

“We all recognize your generous nature, but you deserve something special. I may eventually make something like this for others to enjoy, but you work hard for all of us, as you have for over a thousand years, and you should let yourself be spoiled on occasion.”

She pauses a moment while looking over everything in thought. Smiling broadly, she turns to the group and ducks her head in a shallow bow. “Very well. I am sure I will get much enjoyment out of them, everypony. Thank you all so very much for the thoughtful presents. Though I will share the fruit on occasion, especially due to there being so many, I will have the trees themselves added to my own farmstead which supplies the castle with much of its food.

“I admit, I am quite eager to try some of these. Perhaps we could have some at dinner?”

“I’ll make extra for that if you’d like. With this many of us the slices would be tiny.”

“That sounds fantastic!”

“I’ll make a couple dozen of each and give ‘em to one of the staff when we head back to our rooms. If there’s any fruit you’d like more of just let me know; I can force my shrubs to produce any of them. Same if there’s a flavor we missed or if you find that some flavors are more popular and you need more trees down the line at some point, I can do that too.”

The parents had been slightly bothered by eating anything Cure produced from his plant initially. When he noticed their hesitance to try some of the fruits he and Lemon were creating he finally asked what the hay the issue is. Title, blunt as ever, told him she felt weird eating something that, even conceptually, is part of him.

Cure could see the logic, sort of, but he also had a valid argument that it’s only part of him through, essentially, a loophole in whatever rules defines one’s metaphysical self. It’s a piece of fruit that, if given a couple weeks, wouldn’t be part of him in any way, shape, or form.

It took some convincing, but eventually they relented when he pointed out he had no problem eating it and he certainly didn’t think of it as eating himself. After all, no part of his body was made of the same stuff fruits are and he is pretty sure nothing on him tasted like pistachio.

“Oh! Speaking of your shrubs, where are your trees? The virus ones?”

“They’re up in the room. I figured I would hoof those over tonight after dinner, separate from the presents.”

“Perfect! Speaking of which,” she looks over the group and raises her voice, “I would be thrilled if you all could join me for dinner in about an hour. Unfortunately, I do have some paperwork that needs my attention before I can relax for the evening. Somepony will come to escort you to the dining room in about forty-five minutes.”

At the numerous nodding heads and voiced agreements, the princess once again thanks everypony and asks her steward to make arrangements for the seeds to be delivered to her estate. With the meeting complete, the group is escorted back to their rooms. The reprieve is really only enough time for everypony to refresh themselves and shake off any nerves from meeting their idol.

After the short break, most of which Cure spends making fruit, the group is once again gathered and escorted through the labyrinth to a formal dining room. Celestia walks in the room just as they arrive and takes her place at the head of the table. Everypony else’s spot is indicated by the color of the napkin and the ring holding its fold in place matching their coats and manes respectively.

As the guest of honor and, presumably, an alicorn, Cure is seated immediately to the princess’s left. He notes that a raised, cushioned bench has been added to the foals’ side of the table so their chairs can reach the taller table. Ferric, Drift, Dawn, Glacial, Rising, Sapphire, Coast, Heavy, and Wind line his side of the table to his left with the opposite end unoccupied.

Vines gets the spot to her right followed by Title, Amethyst, Lemon, Deed, Starlight, and Solar. High chairs are sat to the right of the dams for their daughters as well.

“Come on in, everypony,” Celestia calls, waving for them to join her. “Tonight’s meal may be somewhat more informal than you were expecting. I know that many ponies have… expectations… of what a ‘Royal Dinner’ is like, but I do not believe that would be to your enjoyment. They’re far more droll and boring events than I prefer, I assure you.

“Don’t misunderstand, though. The food will be as exquisite as always, but I assume nopony was truly looking forward to trying to figure out which is the appropriate utensil for each dish.”

That’s a relief to everypony as best Cure can tell. He’d gotten a book from the library on proper etiquette just in case, but the whole thing seemed silly to him. Trying to follow some arbitrary rules when you’re eating and socializing sounds like, if anything, it would detract from the dining experience. It may be important if he were an aspiring diplomat or something, but he could happily go his entire life without worrying about what fork he’s supposed to grab.

As everypony takes their seats he gets a better look at the settings and decorations. Several hanging chandeliers provide plenty of lighting, fully illuminating the large room.

The table itself is wide enough that three ponies could sit on the ends; a necessity given the princess’s larger frame. It’s also very tall. Not only do the foals have a bench to sit on, but the adults’ side has one too, though it only raises them up a few hooves. Given that even Deed only comes up to the princess’s withers when she’s sitting, the boosters are a necessity.

On the table are shorter, though long, floral arrangements sat upon platters of gold and silver alternating with intricate carvings inlaid. Tablecloths are not typically used by ponies due to the ease of cleaning with magic, so it’s not strange that there isn’t one present. Each setting has the color coordinated napkins with a ring in their mane colors holding them in a flower bouquet fold sat upon a plate.

The plates are thin porcelain with ornate gold decorations along the outside with a stylized sun and moon opposite each other. Each is rotated so the sun points to the princess’s side and the moon to the unoccupied end, Cure notices. The plates and silverware, which may actually be pure silver, are atop white placemats, which also have decorative gold and silver threads sewn in, again, in a sun and moon pattern.

As the princess said, rather than the twenty-some odd utensils he’d expected, each setting has only a single fork, a tablespoon, and a butterknife.

“That’s probably a good call,” Title voices as she takes her seat. “I know Cure studied up but I can’t say I’ve ever been interested enough to learn.”

“It’s a little unnecessary,” Celestia assures her. “It’s even worse when meat eating beings are present. They have a variety of forks and knives specifically for the different meat textures,” she says, wrinkling her snout in distaste.

“You don’t eat meat?!” Cure dejectedly asks. “Why? Ya got the choppers for it!”

“Most other tribe members don’t, Cure,” Glacial gently reminds him.

“You’re just weird, especially for an earth pony,” Drift adds.

“You like meat?” Celestia inquires as the serving staff begin bringing out the hors d’oeuvres.

There’s five small samples of food; a couple sweet potato fritters with cheese and some kind of seasoning, some kind of carrot and nut flatbread thing, a few olives in some kind of weird cheese-like sauce, a couple spoonfuls of fried mushrooms in something like a buttery soy sauce, then a couple crackers with an apricot and cashew spread of some kind.

“Yep. Miller’s Diner in Golden Hills has the best blackened tuna you’ll ever have. Then again I haven’t had a chance to go to a griffon restaurant yet. One would expect they have some good recipes.”

“That is unusual,” she agrees, turning to the parents with a questioning brow.

All but Title shake their heads no. The pink mare explains, “I was getting cravings with Savvy. Cure said he read some recipes so we tried a few. I musta needed the oils or vitamins in it or something ‘cause the cravings went away. A couple of those were pretty good, especially the lemon pepper one.”

“Huh. As you observed, I do have an omnivore’s dentition, but I never developed a taste for it myself.”

“I bet it would be hard ta get it fresh this far inland anyhow, son.”

“Cloudsdale gets it somehow,” he points out.

“That’s actually one of the reasons the city moves about, Cure,” the princess explains. “In ages past the residents would nearly deplete a region’s fish supplies and had to frequently relocate so as to give it time to recover. Of course nowadays that’s more of a tradition with better food storage options and modern fish farms supplying the bulk of the industry.”

“I didn’t know that,” Drift whispers to Glacial.

The platinum pegasus rolls her eyes. “That’s ‘cause you’re awful at history!”

“It’s boring!” Drift shouts back, then freezes realizing everypony is looking at the pair, including the living piece of history at the head of the table. “Uhh, the teacher is boring, I mean! She’s all monotone and she makes you sleepy when she’s reading from the book.”

“Nice save, dummy,” her sister snarks.

“I remember you brought a history book over once to read together,” Vines reminds her.

“Right!” Drift shouts, pointing a hoof and nodding. “See, I think history can be neat but I would rather read it myself than have somepony,” she switches to a flat tone, “read it to me straight out of the book without any emotion like somepony has removed that part of their brain.” Done with her impression, she gives the table a challenging look, crossing her forelegs and daring anypony to argue.

“That does sound awful,” Deed agrees, breaking the silence.

Everypony can’t help but nod in agreement, though the princess is giggling slightly at the explanation. “I’m certain I can suggest a few books you may also enjoy, Crosswind. In fact, I will have a few brought to your room in the morning. You may borrow them, if you’d like.”

“That would be awesome! Thank you, princess!”

Cure has eaten all of the appetizers, finding that they were all pretty good except the olives. The cheesy texture on an olive just didn’t feel right even if the flavor was okay. The mushrooms were the best by far with the apricot cashew spread coming in second.

He noticed some of his friends trading one or another thing further down the line. Apparently he wasn’t the only one put off by the olive dish; Coast, Ferric, and Rising left most of it uneaten on their plates.

The parents were chatting with the unicorns and the princess about what they thought about the food while the staff switched out their plates to deliver their salads. Normally his family has mostly spinach with a few other fruits or veggies in their salads, but there’s a lot more variety in this one with sliced tomatoes and cucumbers, shredded carrots and cabbage, and the green and purple kind of lettuce he never bothered to learn the name of along with some other leafy greens he doesn’t recognize.

There’s a few dressings in what he’d always called gravy boats, one of which is a creamy garlic he decides to try. Sadly, just like at home, there’s nary a crouton to be found.

He also notes a slice of the sweet lime fruit sat atop and to the side; the bright green peel and equally bright yellow inside making it stand out amongst the rest. He takes a small bite, then hits the remainder with a Cooling cantrip, enjoying the chilled treat that tastes like a Sprite from Ed’s memories.

“So it is good cold?” Celestia asks, pulling him from his reverie.

“Huh? Oh! Sorry, I got a little distracted,” he admits, noticing the unicorns and his parents had glanced his way too. “Yeah, you were right; it is very refreshing chilled. I think my juice idea is the ticket with that one. I may need to change it to be more like an orange than an apple. More juice, ya know?”

“I bet yer great grandsire would love ta get his hooves on some of them flavors,” Deed observes.

“Strawberry Cream first pa,” he insists.

His dam shoots him a warning look. “You are not using your talent to make booze!”

“Not for a while, no,” he agrees. “Dunno what the big deal is,” he mumbles, stabbing a cucumber and taking a bite. He swallows and looks to the princess asking, “You mentioned a farm you own earlier. Do you have a vineyard also?”

“No, the food from the farm I own is only used to supply the castle. It doesn’t produce much; just enough for the castle’s use, really. It’s on a large plot of good land not far from here. I’m sure they’ll be very interested in the trees you made. That they’re shaped like apples is a delightful coincidence.”

“Oh, they’re Apples?”

“The farmers? Yes… do you know them?”

“Our teacher’s name is Polished Apple,” Dawn answers. “Is she related?”

“That’s an amazing coincidence as well,” Celestia notes. “They very well may be. The Apple clan is a large, thriving family… is she an earth pony as well?”

“She is,” Dawn answers while nodding. “We’ll have to ask if she’s related. I didn’t know her family is famous.”

His parents awkwardly continue eating, careful not to comment or react, though Deed does blush slightly. Sadly for him, one does not live for thousands of years by being unobservant. The princess stares at his sire, a fact that doesn’t escape his notice. His blush keeps deepening until, finally, Title bursts out laughing.

“Oh my,” the princess softly whispers, grinning knowingly. The utterance only causes the blush to deepen and her stare is noticed by the fillies.

“Why is Mr. Deed blushing?” Glacial asks. His ears are flat out red and angled back at this point.

Drift furrows her brows and looks between Dawn and Deed. “He blushed when you asked about your teacher. Did you date her before you met Mrs. Vines or something?”

“He couldn’t have,” Rising answers. “She just moved to town when Miss Shadow got married and left.”

Title is full-on cackling at this point. Amethyst and Lemon are barely holding it together, but they are visibly holding back laughter as well. Vines looks oddly happy with the arrangement, but then she’s obviously fine with Deed plowing other fields too as long as he clears it with her first. Maybe she considers being the first wife of a desirable, verile stallion a point of pride; a reasonable position given how many mares are not nearly so fortunate.

“Well, ya see,” Deed awkwardly explains, “what with there bein so many more mares than stallions, there’s an expectation, ya understand?”

The princess is watching the whole thing with a playful smile. She still steps in to give context though. “Mr. Deed is correct. Due to there being between five and six mares for every stallion, they traditionally have an unofficial obligation, of a sort, to help ease the loneliness that unfortunately befalls many single mares.”

She turns her head as she speaks, looking down the line of foals. “You are all still too young to worry about such subjects, though, so I would encourage you to speak with your sires and dams if you have any questions. That being said,” she looks to the parents, “I am very grateful for the kindness you show, even to those outside of your family. It is to be admired that you share so freely.”

Heavy leans over to Coast and lowly says, “She must be talking about sex stuff. That’s the only time my parents do the whole ‘don’t worry about that, you’re too young’ thing.” The blue filly is quick to shush him and ignores the giggles from Rising and Sapphire.

Glacial doesn’t pass on the opportunity, nudging Dawn with a wing and, when the filly looks her way, whispers something to her while she waves a hoof in the princess’s direction. Cure can’t catch what’s said, but the orange filly lets out a sigh and begrudgingly nods back.

“Isn’t sharing more of a generosity thing, though?” Cure asks. “I struggle with the distinction, to be honest. I told my parents once that generosity seems to me to just be a different kind of kindness.”

Celestia nods in agreement. “You are correct. The two are closely related. Though more of a philosophical question, I feel as if generosity is more appropriate when a physical object is given freely rather than emotional support. I realize the difference is rather arbitrary, but again, your observation of their overlap is correct.”

Cure nods in acknowledgement and continues, “Well the reason I brought up the vineyard thing in the first place is because I was wondering if you know anypony with a cutie mark specifically related to making wine… uhh… I forget the term for somepony that does that as a career.”

With the last few bites of salads disappearing the wait staff swoops in and starts clearing plates and replacing utensils with clean ones for the main entree.

“Vinter, I believe, is what you’re looking for,” she supplies, “though winemaker is also used for the profession.”

“Ah. Vinter. That’s it. Thanks, boss. So anyhow,” the ‘boss’ appellation gets a small smile from the princess, “my point is that there’s nothing wrong with usin special talents to make booze, ma.”

“You’re too young, sweetie. It’s fine if you want to do that when you’re older, but you don’t need to be some kind of booze baron before you’re even fifteen.”

“Well when do you think those vinters got their marks?” he asks. Looking to the princess he questions, “Presumably they got them before they turned fifteen, right? I mean, most ponies do.”

“Hey,” Title calls with a frown.

“Sorry ma, but you know I’m right.”

“You’re gonna feel awful if one of your friends gets theirs late and is self conscious about it,” she points out.

“Eh, I bet I can help ‘em get their marks. It worked with Drift, after all.” He points a wingtip down the table to the gleefully smiling filly.

“That is odd,” Celestia interjects. “Typically others’ destinies are, somehow, almost obscured to others. No offense, Cure, but you are very unusual in your ability to see that. And yes, I know of at least a hooffull of winemakers over the years that have gotten their mark before turning fifteen. A small taste of wine won’t hurt anypony, after all. Plus when sampling their wares they typically don’t actually swallow the wine.”

“Eh, some goes down either way. I could chug a whole bottle of straight ethanol and not a single drop of it would ever enter my bloodstream, though.” The princess recoils slightly at the very idea of doing that, but Cure carries on undaunted. “Regardless, I wasn’t plannin on goin to work with Grandpa Brick until I was older either way. Somepony’s gotta invent Dam’s Delight, after all, and I bet the boss lady wouldn’t say no to a nice Wedding Cake vintage.”

“I certainly would not,” she eagerly agrees. “Despite my years I still enjoy the sweeter concoctions. It is quite passé to freely admit such, but those ponies that enjoy the tart, bitter flavors can keep that to themselves.” Conspiratorially, she leans in to stage whisper, “Don’t tell anypony, but most of the wines I drink for pleasure are the least expensive ones out there!”

The giggle at the end strikes Cure as downright adorable. He’s delighted to see the princess enjoying dinner so much. He can only assume she doesn’t typically have a huge gaggle of non-judgemental ponies dining with her every night.

Conversation pauses as the staff bring out the dishes with the main course. It’s a dish that Cure isn’t exactly sure of the name of. It reminds him of something that Cyndi occasionally got from an Indian restaurant.

The entree has long, thick sticks of some kind of cheese lightly fried and laid across a rice casserole, of sorts. He can pick up a decent variety of spices and flavors; tomatoes, spinach, onion, garlic, ginger, cumin, chili, and turmeric stand out to his sensitive palate. There’s also a small bowl of a yogurt of some kind to the side, presumably to use as a dip.

Everypony else must be enjoying it as much as he is because conversation comes to a near standstill when they all dig in. The only sounds are spoons tapping porcelain and pleased hums of enjoyment, especially from the parents who are also taking advantage of the greatly enhanced senses he possesses.

“I hope you’re payin yer cook really well, princess,” Title calmly states, “cause… wow!”

“I hope she isn’t,” Lemon argues. “Maybe we can steal her… or him, away.”

He can’t help but notice several of the foals nod in agreement as well, nor can he say he disagrees with the candy mare.

The princess’s horn glows for a second and, blinking his eyes to clear his vision, Cure almost squees when he finds her wearing his mustache. “By my command, no stealing my cook!” the princess gravely orders. “It would be the most high of crimes, I assure you!” She doesn’t even bat an eye at the wall of pouts aimed in her direction. In another flash the mustache is gone and she’s giving Cure a proud look.

“Nice!” he comments, giving the mare an approving nod.

“Guess we’ll just hafta come visit more often,” Title replies with a shrug.

Celestia smiles broadly, nodding in agreement. “That does sound delightful. If only my schedule allowed for more social gatherings like this I would be quite pleased.”

Vines gives her a soulful look, saying, “I truly hope you do make time for yourself, highness.”

Celestia waves a hoof airily. “Oh I assure you, I find time to enjoy myself as much as anypony. It is sweet that you all care so much, but there’s no need for concern. I am very fortunate to have so many ponies that are worried for my wellbeing.”

“Cure said you probably work sixty to eighty hours a week,” Dawn softly says.

All eyes turn to the princess with questioning looks.

Squirming uncomfortably at the irrefutable accusation she explains, “I… may, on occasion, have to, technically, be ‘on the clock’ that much, but that’s usually only if you count things like… oh…” she tilts her head back in thought, “riding in a carriage on my way to a shopping plaza that I have been asked to cut the ribbon for, or visiting my school to teach a class there. If you count that I am, in a way, working, but I wouldn’t consider it work exactly.”

“Weird question,” Cure starts, “do you… like, collect a salary as a princess? I’d never even thought about it before.”

“I do, actually. I make quite a bit less than almost anypony at this table, I suspect,” she teases.

“A symbolic one bit annual salary?” he asks. She answers with a pout, telling him he hit the nail on the head. “Aww, poor Princess Celestia,” he sympathizes, reaching over to pat her hoof. “If you ever need a loan or see a really neat toy you can’t afford just let me know.”

“Does that make you kind or generous?” she asks in return.

“Both. And humble,” he answers with a proud smile. He tilts his head in thought and adds, “I assume you, or whatever fund you have that pays for your own expenses, gets some kind of royalty or commission from things with your image on them, right?”

“They do,” she confirms. “Once again, I am amazed at your business acumen, Cure.”

Shrugging he says, “It seems common sense to me. If you didn’t have some way of controlling what your own image shows up on, at least for commercial purposes, then it would look like you’re endorsing an item that may not be up to your standards.

“Glacial’s snuggle toy, for example,” he points a wing down the line. All eyes turn to the filly who starts glowing pink at the attention. “If it was poorly crafted or something it would damage the ‘Princess Celestia’ brand.”

“Aww, you don’t have one of my snuggle toys, Cure?” she asks in faux disappointment.

Shaking his head no, he apologizes to the mare. “Sorry, princess. As lovely as you are, an even more radiant divine beauty was the inspiration for my snuggle toy.”

She looks to her right, finding Vines with a brilliant blush, then turns back to Cure grinning broadly. “An excellent choice, Cure! A dam should be the most important mare in a young colt’s heart. Did you special order it?”

“Nope. Made it myself, just like Savvy’s plushies. I just cut stuffing into the rough shape of whatever, then wrap it in silk and compress it down.”

“Ah. Yes, I believe Lt. Spear was quite excited about the suit you made her. You’re not going to steal both my chef and the city’s second in command, are you?”

“No way. Loyalty is kind of a big thing for me. Quite possibly the most important thing, really. Something I’m pretty sure we agree on.”

“Oh?” she asks in a puzzled tone. “As I said earlier, I have always valued kindness and generosity, though.”

“Right,” he nods in understanding, “but tell me this, your highness… what’s one of the highest crimes any creature can commit against the country?”

It only takes a moment for her to realize what he likely means. “Treason?”

“Exactly. In fact, presumably somepony at some point considered it the highest crime that there’s laws for. It is, after all, the only crime I know offhoof which is not protected under attorney-client privilege.”

She pauses in thought for a moment considering the declaration. The colt isn’t wrong; if a pony confesses to their attorney about murder or other horrible crimes they can encourage them to come forward, but the attorney cannot simply turn them in.

Treason is not the same; an attorney that suspects their client has committed treason must report it. During the trial to prosecute the defendant the attorney they use for their defense may keep their conversation privileged at that point, though, unless a yet uncommitted crime is still in the works.

Cure continues despite her moment of thought. “I can mostly deal with, and probably be sort-of friends with, somepony who isn’t exactly kind, generous, or whatever. Betrayal, though…” he starts with his snout scrunched in disdain, “It would have to be a pretty inconsequential issue for somepony’s betrayal to not immediately and permanently end our friendship unless there’s one heck of a good reason for it.”

Celestia takes a moment to consider the colt’s stance. For a certain level of friendship he isn’t wrong. Celestia would probably label those ponies acquaintances rather than friends, but she supposes somepony doesn’t deserve to be without friendship simply because they struggle to exemplify some of the elements of harmony. “I suppose I can see your point. Just out of curiosity, what of honesty? Do you feel like that is an important quality?”

Cure waves his empty fork from side to side, weighing the question as he answers, “Circumstantially, yes. In many situations, however, no. The truth can be a very dangerous thing, after all. How many secrets do you keep, your highness?” he asks, waving his hoof to show he meant the question rhetorically.

“I would hope,” he continues, “many are known only to you and a few others. How to move the sun, for example,” he says, waving to her side. “We certainly wouldn’t want any random group of morons out there having that kind of power. Of course, honest doesn’t necessarily mean forthright, does it?”

Celestia smiles while turning to the parents and says, “I find this absolutely fascinating. I did not expect such strong and well thought out arguments to philosophical questions from such a young foal.”

“The colt’s got more opinions than I have hairs, highness,” Amethyst mumbles. Cure wolfs down the last few bites of his entree and looks down the table. Several of the foals are conversing amongst themselves or with Solar, apparently mostly about how his work is going in Baltimare.

Because he’s been so busy chatting with the princess, he’s one of the last ones to finish eating his entree. The parents have been done for a moment and, despite her larger portion, the princess only has a couple bites remaining.

“I see that!” she agrees, turning back to Cure. “I agree. Being honest does not necessarily mean volunteering information. Let me ask you this… have you ever lied to your friends?”

“No,” is his immediate answer. “I don’t think I’ve ever outright lied to anypony. I have made up backstories for some of my disguises, though, which I’ll grant was dishonest, but that was for ponies I’ll probably never meet again anyhow. As far as friends and family, I have dodged questions, withheld the full truth, or flat out told somepony I can’t tell them something, but I do my best not to be untrue.”

“So then you do value honesty?”

“Not directly. I view it as a form of loyalty, as a matter of fact. If Ferric were to ask me something that I felt she would be better off not knowing I would tell her that rather than betray her trust and lie. In fact, I did just that today when she asked about last night.”

Celestia turns her head slightly, giving the dark filly a questioning look. Very quietly, Ferric explains, “I asked how many ponies tried to steal his trees last night. He said he would rather not say; that it didn’t matter and because it may upset us.”

Cure nods in agreement, turning back to face the princess. “Exactly. A true statement but not forthright.”

As the princess pauses in thought the serving staff once again seem to materialize out of thin air, quickly and efficiently removing the entrees and leaving each pony with the planned dessert; apple pie, coincidentally, flanked on each side with a scoop of vanilla ice cream and a large dollop of whipped cream on top. Spread out on the table are platters with slices of the fruits Cure had made as well.

The pie is pretty good but the part that impressed Cure more than anything is the fact that every slice was cut and brought out perfectly with no smooshing anything and none of the filling running out. The princess gives him a curious look when he stoops down to get a good look, so he shrugs and explains, “I’m tempted to steal that chef away after all, regardless of the hypocrisy or treason charge involved.”

“Should I get my mustache again?”

Sighing, he shakes his head no. “Nah, dam’s cooking is fantastic anyhow, as are Lemon’s desserts. I guess we’ll let you have this one.”

A few grumbles draw his attention down the line to Dawn and Drift sampling their own flavors. When they notice his stare, Drift explains, “I’ve never even heard of blackcurrant before and she doesn’t like carrot cake.”

Cure had initially suggested caramel for Dawn’s dessert, but it’s a well known fact that caramel is Cure’s favorite flavor. The parents suggested that associating it with Dawn, given her possessive nature, may further encourage what they see as a potential negative behavior.

“Mines really good,” Heavy declares. “So is the cinnamon one,” he adds, nodding towards a beaming Cherry.

“You should still try the different flavors,” Lemon encourages the fillies. “It’s not exactly the same as the real thing. For one the texture is different. They’re also a lot sweeter, mostly.”

“Blackcurrant is not a very popular flavor due to their tartness,” Celestia explains, “the sweet lemon pairing is quite delicious. They also can be harmful to other plants, particularly pine trees. I presume these aren’t so similar to the real plant as to have that issue?”

“Uhhh…” Cure stammers as he looks to his parents. They all shrug, apparently unaware of that fact. He looks back and says, “There’s nothing in these I’ve identified as being harmful to other plants. I got the flavor from a jam Lemon had in stock, not the plant itself. Maybe I could take a look at the real thing to figure out why that is?”

“Wonderful! I shall ask that a small shrub be sent to you. It may take some time to locate a farm that produces them, though. If I’m not mistaken they should be in their growing season right now.”

Starlight leans in to talk down the table. “Ours are really good, Cure, Lemon. These would be really neat as snacks at my events. When you decide to produce more, definitely let me know!”

“Thanks, Star!” Lemon calls back. She tells the table, “I wouldn’t mind adding some flavors at the store based off’a them, but business has been booming since we expanded our candy bar line. Maybe at some point,” she adds with a shrug.

“I feel I must thank you again for such creative and thoughtful presents. I’m certain the kitchen staff will be quite eager to experiment once those trees grow. Do you know offhoof approximately how long they should take to mature?”

After a moment’s thought Cure estimates, “My parents could probably have them producing fruit in a month or two.”

“That fast?!”

“Uh huh. Earth pony magic, ya know? You’d have to mind the soil and water but if ya dump enough magic in ‘em and you could be snacking on these every day by June.”

Celestia looks from Cure to the parents and back a couple times before it dawns on her. “Your talent?” she asks his dam.

“Mmhmm. We work in the garden and do a small ritual, sort of. My magic helps everything grow very quickly. The first time it happened was quite the surprise.”

“Fascinating… We tried for centuries to get earth ponies to embrace such abilities. So many refused, citing tradition or, sadly, distrust claiming that magic is only for unicorns. I would absolutely love to see it in action at some point if you’re willing!”

“We would be happy to demonstrate, your highness!” Vines eagerly assures her. She looks to her husband and wives and asks, “Do you think we could show her maybe Saturday morning?” When they all agree she turns back and adds, “If that would work with your schedule, of course!”

“Definitely! I’ll be sure to make arrangements. Would the castle garden be acceptable? I will ask the groundskeeping crew to plant a small section of flowers tomorrow for you.”

“Sounds good, princess,” Title agrees, the others voicing their agreement as well.

“I wouldn’t mind seeing that too,” Solar calls. “I remember you mentioning that months ago. I’ve been curious about it.”

“I don’t get it, I thought only unicorns could use magic like that,” Rising comments. “Can any earth pony use magic?”

Celestia answers, “Ponies’ special talents are capable of bypassing normal limitations. All ponies are magical beings, but earth ponies express it more passively through greater strength and resilience or by their very presence helping plants grow. Cure’s special talent, for example, allows him to make changes far, far beyond normal. Mrs. Vines’ apparently enables her to share her magic with plants actively rather than relying on her presence alone.”

Cure asks, “Has anypony ever considered showing earth ponies or pegasi how to direct their magic externally?”

“What do you mean? Those that end up with an active ability like yourself do so naturally.”

Of all the possible answers, the princess simply not knowing that earth ponies and pegasi can actively channel magic was one of the more unlikely scenarios he envisioned. It is possible, he supposes, that if she was a unicorn before she ascended or always an alicorn then she would have never had reason to learn how without directing the magic through her horn.

That still doesn’t explain why nopony has wondered why earth ponies, pegasi, or other races can use crystals but not refill them. Common sense dictates that should be possible, but then again the “program” that lets somepony use a crystal doesn’t guide the user how to put magic in like it does provide the parameters for the stored spell.

“What about just learning to move their magic internally like unicorns are taught early? Has anypony tried that?”

“Early on after the founding of the country, yes. Members from all three tribes refused to implement teaching programs as part of the normal curriculum several times. The earth ponies legislators because parents didn’t want their foals to have to learn what they claimed were ‘unicorn tricks’ and the unicorns because they did not wish to, as they saw it, waste time teaching uninterested foals for little benefit. Or deal with belligerent parents.

“Pegasi representatives claimed they adequately use their magic when controlling the weather and, instead, insisted that any would-be funding be used for flight schools or weather systems. It’s been several hundred years since it was last attempted. Most unicorns learn early magic from their parents rather than at schools even to this day.”

“Wow… That is… Well, honestly, disappointing barely begins to scratch the surface.”

“I couldn’t agree more, Cure. I try to think the best of my little ponies, but when I see so many fighting what I see as progress I cannot help but wonder if I have failed them somehow. That you have succeeded where so many have failed tells me that you truly are special. And to do so at such a young age,” she stops, shaking her head and letting out a sigh. “I could not be more proud, Cure.”

Squirming uncomfortably, Cure can’t help but feel kind of shitty for deceiving the princess. Feeling as if the gig has gone on long enough, he tries to think of something to say that will tell her he did not actually ascend while still obscuring the depth of his knowledge.

“I don’t think I really did anything that special, given my talent, princess. I mean… once I had time to really look over at the difference in cellular structures figuring everything out was pretty simple.”

“Cellular structures?” she questions.

“Right. The different mitochondrial configurations between tribes found in our muscle tissue. And griffons, of course. I haven’t really had an opportunity to delve into the scans of the zebras, minotuars, or the dragon from the train this morning.

“I’m very interested in that last one. I can tell that their scales have some interesting properties but I’m not sure yet whether their magical resistance is a metaphysical protection or if it’s somehow a result of the different keratin structures and how they’re interlaced with, I’m guessing, different gemstone particles.

“I suspect it’s a physical property and is probably related to why dragons eat those things, though, because the highest concentration of mineral deposits are in their scales. Well, and their horns.

“I can say that their nerve composition is a lot different from ours and they do have a pair of chambers that let them breathe fire. I doubt I’ll be sending letters to anypony but if you want some s’mores or need a stove lit I’m yer go-to-pony. At least, I will be after some experiments, probably.”

Cure can’t help but notice that everypony but his parents are looking at him like he just completely blew their minds. His friends have all gotten bits and pieces of the lecture over the months, but he’s always given them the simplified version. Celestia, on the other hoof, looks like she’s seeing him for the first time.

“So, wait… your wings and horn… you grew them with your talent?!”

“Well, yeah. How else would an earth pony have wings and a horn?” he asks, looking down the line at the confused foals and shrugging at everypony. “You said a word earlier… is there a different way for ponies to become alicorns? I was curious about that when we met the first time…” he says, drifting off at her continuing stare.

Cure looks at his parents and his friends confused as to what he should do as the princess appears to be lost in thought. After ten seconds of silence that feels like an hour he finally softly calls out to her. “Princess? You okay, boss? Did I break her?” he asks the room, leaning over to pat her left hoof.

She looks down at his hoof when he makes contact, seemingly snapping out of whatever daze she was lost in. When she turns her head back up to meet his and everypony else's concerned looks she apologizes. “Please forgive an old mare her moment of consideration, everypony. I had not thought such a thing even remotely possible. Cure?”

“Yeah?”

“Is that something you are capable of sharing with others as well?”

“Slowly, a little every day over months, yes.”

She looks at the ponies in the room, noticing the unicorn siblings in particular looking slightly wary. “I see. Are the ponies in this room everycreature that knows this?”

“Dawn and Solar’s parents know that I can use wings and a horn. I don’t think it occurred to them that I could do the same for others.” Looking at the group he asks, “Y’all haven’t told anypony, have you?”

To his relief everypony shakes their heads no.

“Good. I may, for the time being, ask that you keep this information to yourselves, everypony. I cannot fathom the chaos that would be unleashed should word of this capability escape this room.”

That statement scares Cure in a way he didn’t realize was possible. He can only assume she means that the result could, somehow, be that Discord is released ninety some odd years before a counter to his abilities becomes available. “I have always emphasized how important it is to keep what I can do secret anyhow,” he tells her.

“That is a relief. Until I can determine what effect this would have on society I’m afraid that I must ask you to continue to do so. That’s not even considering what other races would do should they learn a pony is capable of duplicating their abilities.”

“I wasn’t plannin on offering that as a service unless ya told me to. In fact, what you said right there is almost exactly what I said months ago, wasn’t it?” he asks, looking at the other foals.

They all nod, Coast paraphrasing his argument months prior. “You said it could cause some kind of inter-tribal fighting or something.”

Celestia lets out a relieved sigh. “Thank you for that. While I would like to expect the best in ponies, I believe I would like to plan out the introduction of such a large societal change rather than find out from an advert in the newspaper.” The tone she finishes with is teasing despite the seriousness of her statement.

“Should I not, ya know?” he waves at his horn questioningly.

She pauses a moment in thought then slowly shakes her head. “You don’t have to, no. You figured out everything on your own and through the use of your own talent. We will discuss that more during our meeting.”

Celestia looks over the table at everypony’s plates. Most everypony has finished their dessert or appears to be satisfied. Conversation is slowing as food hits their stomachs and they get the after-eating drowsiness beginning to set in. Raising her voice, she gets everypony’s attention. “I believe everypony has had their fill.

“Due to the unfortunate events of this morning we need to have a meeting. It isn’t necessary that all of you attend,” she says to Vines, “but I will need at least one parent, Private Strike, and Cure present.

“For the foals I have asked the castle’s lead groundskeeper, Verdant Vista, to show you around the hedge maze in the garden. There are many interesting things to discover out there and, if you look hard enough, you may just find some hidden prizes!”

The parents converse for a moment, as do Solar and Starlight. Vines will take Savvy and she, along with Amethyst, Lemon, and the fillies, will join Starlight and the foals. Title and Deed stand and, along with Cure and Solar, begin to follow the princess.

Author's Note

So, there's chapter 1 of 2 for the day (as in the in-story day). If you can believe it, as it stands right now, this is the shorter of the two. We'll have the meeting/debrief next week.

Enjoy!

Edit - As Moonlight_Mist pointed out in the comments, I really should have worded this better. It was even worse before I changed it once. There will not be another chapter today, but this is the first chapter of two... or, technically, the second of three, I suppose... anyhow, this isn't the end of the day in-story.

Starting from about Chapter 20 on I tried to make it so that a single day is encapsulated in a chapter. There have been a few times where that made a REALLY long chapter and there have been a few where, instead, I ended up breaking the day into more than one. Usually because I spent so much time on a chapter I needed the extra week to not fall behind.

So just to be clear, the remainder of the day will be in Chapter 61 and will be published next Monday. Apologies for any confusion. It probably won't be the last time.

Chapter 61: After Dinner Conversation

Thursday, April 30th, 909 AB (Moments later)

The four separate from the group after a quick round of goodbyes and follow the princess through the castle. With his far shorter stride Cure is having to speed up to a canter just to match the princess's normal walk.

After a moment he spreads his wings, hops in the air, and follows alongside her, hovering by her withers. The move puzzles the mare as he's not even flapping; merely holding his wings out and seemingly sliding across the air. His horn is softly glowing, but he's using so little magic it is unclear what exactly he’s doing.

"How in the world are you doing that?" Solar asks, voicing the same question the princess was about to. "Are you levitating yourself?"

"Cheating," he replies with a smirk. At the deadpanned look he elaborates, "You get partial credit. I've told ya before that earth ponies' telekinetic aura extends a little beyond mere touch, right?" He has several times, he's mainly explaining for the princess's benefit just in case.

"Right."

In a move that completely baffles both the unicorn and alicorn, Cure rotates around mid air, pivoting while maintaining his direction, speed, and height with barely any motion from his wings at all.

He continues his explanation, "Well I had, back in September or so, gotten a variety of rocks and gravel of all sizes figuring that it's an ability that could probably be trained and refined. Both me and my parents, that is," he clarifies, waving a hoof between the three of them. "One night dad was going to the pub when it was raining, so I suggested he envision projecting out almost a bubble of force all around him."

"I remember that," Deed says. "Worked like a charm once I got tha right image. I do it every time it rains now. Only my hooves get wet."

"I came up with a bunch of uses for it in the garden, too,” Title adds. “It's probably an earth pony's greatest advantage and most don't even know we can do it."

"This is fascinating," the princess mumbles, looking up and down at Cure trying to find the trick. "Is this something only you can do?"

"Earth ponies can do the grabby thing all over, but the floating thing? I bet you could do it too. Do you have a gym somewhere for the guards?"

"We do, yes. I will have to try… It looks fun. How did you discover this?"

"Start off with zero assumptions. Test everything. Define rules, find exceptions, and try to determine why they exist." Cure finishes with a shrug, causing him to bob in the air. "I can only imagine what ponies could do if they started with the assumption that nothing is impossible."

"You should see the moves he's come up with, highness," Title says. "He can do this whole ballet-like thing hovering in mid air. It's pretty neat, especially with his muscle control and color changing."

Cure pouts at his mom, grumbling, "That was a private, one time only show for my little sisters!"

"I would absolutely love to see it sometime," Celestia pleads, batting her lashes at the colt.

Gripping his chest with both forehooves he dramatically blurts out, "Gah! Pretty pony princess pleading pierces protections!" He sighs in defeat, dejectedly announcing, "Prescribed performance planning possibly proceeds posterior to the present party."

"Seven out of ten," Title rates over top of the princess's giggle, "It's a little unclear what exactly you meant. I'll toss ya a bonus point because of how many words you got in despite the first few being gimmes." She smirks at the princess and adds, “Found his weakness already, huh? A pretty mare bats her lashes at 'em and he folds like wet paper.”

"Everypony's a critic," he huffs. Rotating to face Celestia he ignores her victorious smirk and clarifies, "Maybe after this meeting I'll think'a something. Or maybe I'll save that for next time. Always leave 'em wanting, after all."

"A showpony on top of everything else, hmm?"

"All the world's a stage, your highness. I just happened to play more parts than some."

"I see. I'm still curious exactly how you are doing that."

"Tha colt couldn't stay on a topic if ya glued 'em to it, highness."

He blows a quick raspberry at his sire, then explains, "So by using the earth pony aura and projecting it I can affect the air around myself, so I can form almost like a bubble of lightened air held in place around me and, of course, I'm only effectively a few kilograms, so the upwards thrust of the surrounding air on the air closer to my body and wings is enough to allow me to basically hover.

"It's not unlike using some kind of flotation device in a body of water, but it definitely takes some practice to get right. I find it's easier to juuuuust about completely counter my weight and levitate with my horn. You're essentially messing with buoyancy even though you're not in water, so if you don't use your horn you gotta find the happy medium that lets you float without gaining or losing altitude, so don't expect to get it right the first few dozen times."

Laughing at the memory, his mom shouts, "The first time he tried he smacked straight into the ceiling!"

"He sure did," Deed says, chuckling. "Left a big divot where his horn hit. Good thing fer that Mendin spell."

"I was tryin somethin new," Cure grumbles under his breath. "At least I finally figured it out."

With a thoughtful look, the princess raises one of her wings slightly. “Lightening the air… That is an interesting concept.” After a moment of dividing her attention she shrugs and refolds her wings. “I will have to experiment when I have an opportunity.”

"Yeah, you gotta get it to kinda ‘click’ in place before you can do it. It's a combination of pegasus and earth pony abilities with a unicorn cheaty shortcut, so like I said, I suspect you could do it too once you get the visual right.”

“Think of it like a hot air balloon, princess,” Title helpfully suggests.

“That’s a good analogy too,” he agrees. “Whether or not you could do it depends on if your wings have enough surface area given your mass, really. As you can see I've slightly enlarged my wings proportionally to match my wider frame compared to a pegasus.

"That gives me a bigger ‘bubble’ to take advantage of to offset my higher mass compared to them. It stinks they don't seem to be able to project out the holding field far enough to do it. They can lighten the air but can't lock it in place, though that updraft still makes it possible to gain altitude quickly."

The princess's eyes bug out in realization. "That…" she pauses, tilting her head in thought. "I suppose I had not considered the full implications of your talent. I noticed everypony had their coats and feathers groomed to perfection at dinner, though. The mane effects are quite dashing, by the way."

"You should have been there when he offered to increase my horn size, your highness," Solar admits while blushing slightly. The princess bursts out laughing, causing his blush to deepen. "That's basically what Dawn did too," he grumbles, causing her to laugh even harder.

"Tell the boss lady what I told her," Cure challenges.

"No way! Don't you dare, Cure!"

"It wasn't that big of a deal. She ain't some little filly!"

"Well now I truly must know," she comments playfully.

Letting out an exaggerated sigh, Cure turns to the grinning mare and paraphrases, "So she busted out laughing just like you did and he went all crimson at her snarkin 'em about how a bigger horn would draw attention from the mares. I told her that is exactly why I don't joke or make comments about anything medical related; it makes ponies uncomfortable asking for help."

"I could certainly see that," she agrees, lightly chuckling. "A wise choice, Cure."

"That's not exactly what he said," Solar defends.

"Fine! I said I don't care if he wanted a bigger horn or a bigger something else; I treat all requests with the same abject professional attitude. Hay, I've already had one FOIB. I'm relieved it hasn't become a recurring thing… especially with stallions," he admits with a shudder.

“Chicken,” Solar mumbles. He can't blame Cure, though. For some reason it just feels like it would be wrong to say the word "dong" around the princess.

"I encounter far too many acronyms to remember them all. I am afraid FOIB does not ring a bell."

Title answers in a sigh, "Foreign Object In Body." Coughing to the side she mumbles, "A cucumber."

Celestia freezes mid step with a shocked look, then absolutely cracks up, laughing uproariously while leaning with a wing against the wall. As amused as everypony else is, the thought of Princess Celestia laughing at a cucumber shoved in a mare’s snatch falls far enough outside of expectations that nopony seems to know how to react. It’s a remarkably similar atmosphere to what Ed had briefly experienced once.

Ed wasn’t a religious guy, exactly, but that didn’t mean he never interacted with anyone that was. A fun memory from his early twenties was when a bud of his was getting married. They were all pretty low income, especially at that point, so the bachelor’s party was a tubing trip down a nearby river with a floating cooler full of beer. It was absolutely illegal, but unless a park ranger happened to be there nobody seemed to give a shit.

He had, at first, been weirded out when the deacon that was going to officiate the wedding showed up, but that uncomfortable atmosphere was, thankfully, dispelled within the first ten minutes. Deacon Meyers was thrilled to be included and, to the shock of the group, brought a couple drinks to share with everyone; two fifths of some kind of “something” Reserve; a Crown knock-off that wasn’t surprisingly good, especially after the first couple shots.

He didn’t get completely shitfaced like the groom-to-be but God apparently was A-OK with his local rep knocking a few back given how little effort it would have taken to smite a group of drunk morons floating down a river on innertubes. In retrospect it was a terrible idea that could have easily ended in disaster, but all’s well that ends well, and apparently the guy upstairs didn’t mind too much.

Cure is aware that the princess is still a mare and, very likely, has done anything and everything imaginable at least once in her ridiculously long life. While he is consciously avoiding being too overly familiar, it occurs to him that he also needs to accept the fact that she isn’t, and apparently doesn’t try to be, some kind of religious icon.

He still isn’t sure if she carries some “spark of divinity” or something, but if she does that doesn’t mean she’s some proselytizing saint. Either way, it still feels kind of weird with the grandmotherly aura the princess possesses.

It takes a moment for her to regain her composure, wiping her eyes with a pastern while still giggling. As the group continues on, through subdued giggles she comments, "On one hoof I would prefer such a young foal not be exposed to such things; on the other I suppose it is somewhat unavoidable given your talent."

"It wasn't any worse than helpin mares push out a foal," he comments. "A heck of a lot less messy, if anything. Besides, we’re all pretty gross on the inside, boss. I don’t get to pick and choose what I see and an errant piece of fruit is pretty low on the yuck scale compared to what’s goin on in our GI tracts."

A cringe crosses everypony's features for a moment before they reluctantly acknowledge his point. “It’s all the same to me at this point anyhow,” he adds with a shrug.

"Here we are," she declares, opening a door and motioning everypony in. "I had your plants brought with the assumption you need them to create your trees."

Cure floats his way into the room, finding his dozen, slightly diminished plants lining the wall to his right. Captain Stalwart Shield and Lieutenant Gliding Spear are in their armor, uncovered, and seated on the closest side of a large conference table to his left with stacks of folders in front of them. They both stand at attention when the door opens. As Celestia walks in she tells them to be at ease.

Both are struck, staring at the alicorn colt hovering in mid air for a moment before the princess's words register and they retake their spots, still craning their necks to stare.

"Sup?" he casually asks, waving a hoof. Title snorts a laugh as she trots around the table to take a seat opposite and slightly right of the lieutenant with Deed sitting across from the empty space between the mares, Solar sitting to his right. Celestia takes the end of the table between the unicorns and the opposite has a riser for the colt to park on by his mom.

He makes himself comfortable, all the while still being open-mouth gawked at. Celestia clears her throat, finally getting their attention. The lieutenant slides a document out of a folder and sets it out to take notes. Cure figures it’s probably something like an official statement, judging by the several blank lines to be filled out.

"So we have several things to discuss, unfortunately. First and foremost, I believe we owe you an apology for failing to ensure your and your family and friends' safety on your journey here.

"During the investigation into your stolen trees we identified a pony of interest who both would have had access to your sire's report," she looks to Solar, "and has familial connections to somepony on the executive board of a smaller pharmaceutical company. We had no reason to suspect anypony was planning such an aggressive move as attacking a train. I can only thank the stars and your foresight for preparing for such an eventuality."

"That was all Cure, I think," Solar admits, looking at the parents for confirmation.

Deed nods in agreement explaining, "Tha colt was sure somepony would try 'n stop 'em from gettin here. We met with Grandpa Brick and he agreed there was a chance, that's why my cousin, Lucky, an' the security team were there."

"A wise precaution, in retrospect," she agrees. "However it is my understanding that they were, for the most part, unnecessary."

Cure answers the unspoken question. "They helped keep an eye on everypony… creature after I knocked them out, but there was zero actual fighting the whole time. It was a near thing with the minotaurs."

"How, though?!" the captain blurts out.

"Airborne sedation for the minotaurs and ponies, internal medication on the zebras. I had made everypony with me immune to the effects beforehoof, so the minotaurs were the only ones affected in our car. I transmuted food inside the zebras' guts and a few milligrams of sugars in their blood to an opiate and sent the one pony back to his boss with a gas bomb, basically, that knocked them all out."

Everypony takes a moment to process the explanation. Both officers' brows are hiked clear into their manes. A tinge of wariness seems to creep into both their features at the possibility of a foal being able to simply magic whatever directly into their bloodstream or, presumably, somewhere even worse.

"Brilliant and effective strategies," Celestia compliments despite their barely veiled worry. "How were you able to use your talent on the zebras from a car away, though? They are all claiming they never even entered your car."

"They didn't. This one," he projects an Illusion of a zebra, "was trying to throw a flask of yellow stuff into the coupling between the car in front of us and the rest of the train. I scanned it; it's acidic, but seems too weak to do much."

"It is an alchemical solution that would have eaten through the metal and cables in seconds," the lieutenant slowly clarifies, shaking off her shock. The colt is a guest of the princess, after all. If he didn't harm the creatures attacking his family there's no need to fear him, she supposes. "The physical properties are just the start."

"Ah. Neat. Anyhow, I had run a vine through the hallways of the last several cars of the train that had a variety of sensors in them. Heat, sound, smell, and visual. With the targeting information provided I was able to levitate away the flask and, after determining their likely intent, knock out the zebras as I described."

After a moment of thought he adds, "I removed the vines when we stopped and Mended any damage to the cars, by the way."

The princess chuckles briefly, assuring him, "I am quite unconcerned about that, Cure."

The captain resumes, "The testimonies from the minotaurs and one pony detail their encounters with a creature that I have never heard of." She opens the folder and reads, "A quadrupedal creature with two clawed arms, four appendages described as scythes, a tail similar to a dragon's, exceedingly muscular, armored with bone and, from their descriptions, some sort of carapace that stood approximately two point five meters tall and likely weighed upwards of six hundred kilograms."

She sets the paper down and looks at Cure. "I fail to see the resemblance."

"I would hope." He slowly combs a hoof through his mane. In an overly posh accent, he says, "That utterly fails to capture my magnificence."

"Cure," Celestia calls in a light scolding tone.

He projects a shrunk down Illusion on the table and explains, "I basically tried to think of the scariest thing I could come up with to delay fighting so the gas could do its thing or just scare 'em off. It’s like a combination between a beetle, praying mantis, crocodile, and, though I hadn’t yet scanned one, dragon. The minotaurs stayed up long enough I thought I was going to have to actually fight them, but that thing was a huge slab of bone and muscle. They had no chance at all."

"Goodness! I do not believe I would want to face such a being in an enclosed train car myself," she comments, the officers voicing their agreements. "Suddenly the 'Fool' label makes far more sense."

"Ah… that's why they had that," the captain mumbles. "So that wasn’t an Illusion? They indicated that the being cut a table in half as a demonstration and the earth pony says it gave him…" she pauses to look at the notes, then gives Cure a flat stare, "tea with two sugars? Really?"

Title starts giggling at the image of Cure, in a huge monster suit, making tiny cups of tea for a terrified pony. Celestia raises a single, questioning brow.

"The tea thing was funny," he insists with a scowl. "As for the rest, I… have reservations about sharing how that was achieved. Let’s just say it was an elaborate puppet."

"He doesn't trust anypony as a rule," Solar clarifies.

"Trust, like respect, is earned, not given," Cure declares. He looks at the princess and asks, "Do you trust them completely?"

"They would certainly not be in their positions if I did not." The small smile on their faces doesn’t escape his notice.

"Will this remain confidential?"

She immediately answers, "It will, as will most of what we've discussed this far."

"Demonstration time?" he asks his parents. Both think, trade looks, and nod at the colt. "Okay," he agrees, flapping once and gliding to his shrubs. "No peeking!" he calls over his withers and casts an Invisibility spell to obscure his work.

Deed and Title can't help but smirk while looking forward to the expressions they're certain are coming momentarily. "It'll take 'em a couple minutes ta get it ready," Deed explains. The officers nod and turn to look over their withers, waiting for the big reveal.

The princess, unsurprisingly, can pierce the spell easily. Fortunately he had just started when he noticed. When Cure senses her gaze on him he shoots her a wink and removes his horn, wings, and fur. The naked foal gets a giggle out of her before she turns away. Within a couple minutes he has reformed his “basic” alicorn suit and climbs inside, dispelling the Invisibility as he stands and faces everypony.

"Sweet Celestia," the lieutenant absently mumbles.

The ancient mare stares in wonder. "I assure you I am every bit as surprised as you, lieutenant."

"Okay, I've been totally dying to do this for months," Cure says in a smooth baritone. Turning to face the princess, he stands imperiously to his full, towering height and smiles broadly. "Hello my little pony," he happily greets the mare.

Deed facehooves immediately but Title starts snickering.

"Really, Cure?" Solar asks with a sigh.

"I don't know why I didn't see that coming," she admits. "I really should have at this point. I admit, it feels quite odd to be on the other end of it for once." Pointing a hoof she asks, "Do you mind?"

Cure gives a no head shake and stands "at ease" for inspection, raising his wings so she can really look him over. He's experiencing a bout of ambivalence regarding the suit's design. On one hoof, he's very relieved he elected not to give it genitalia because it would be pretty weird for it to have an enormous cock and a big dangling nutsack.

That whole apparatus really only has two functions, barring more creative uses like advanced juggling tricks or hooves-and-horn-free writing, at least, and there's no reason he should need either typical use anytime soon.

On the other hoof, a very attractive mare is giving him a thorough look-over and, as incredibly weird as it would be to have a BSD and a couple grapefruit hanging out back there, having nothing at all feels incredibly emasculating. It shouldn’t matter, especially at his age, but the thought still niggles at the back of his mind. At least his exclusion of a rectal cavity should lend credence to the "the innocent foal only put the necessities on" line of thought.

Though all of them are immediately dismissed with prejudice, thoughts of adding strange or humorous images or sayings in those strategic locations flit through his mind. Of the more mild possibilities he considers a "don't stare right here" sign or something like "you're making it weird" in spots that would otherwise be occupied, but as funny as it may be it would also probably embarrass the princess or make her uncomfortable due to his age.

It's possible she may get a laugh out of something like that, but in the end it's just not worth rolling the dice on that until he knows her better. For now, a smooth, unblemished surface with a healthy layer of soft, blue fur is all that's there to be found.

The captain and lieutenant take a moment to get over their shock before joining the princess. Two additional mares staring him over doesn't make it less weird, and them being the height they are, especially the lieutenant, means there's no way they won't notice some things are missing. In the end Cure doesn't have any choice but to accept the situation he put himself in as best he can.

That doesn’t stop his mom from sniggering at the table or his sire from having to bite his lip not to laugh. Solar is too busy staring awestruck to react, though. Apparently seeing an enormous alicorn version of his little brother is even more bizarre than the quadrupedal Tyranid Warrior variant he used on the train.

As the seconds drag on Cure has a hard time keeping weird things from circling in his mind. He considers that he could make a wang pop out right in front of everypony but that would probably be even more weird. Not as weird as having three pop out or a vag suddenly form probably would be, but still well beyond an acceptable level of strangeness given present company.

At least he can prevent any kind of blush or other sign of embarrassment. That's a huge advantage his suit has; he can control his own features very well, normally, but a big surprise can cause him to react before he has a chance to stop it. With the suit every twitch, blink, smile, or other motion is a fully conscious action.

That becomes dubiously useful when he senses the officers trade a look as they're both near his hindquarters. Unbeknownst to the pair he can easily detect when they stare for a second directly where his junk should be then face each other. He gets it; any amputee can attest that something not being where it belongs would naturally draw attention, and given the size of the suit it's far harder to think of him as an eight year old than it is his approximate apparent age.

He could easily say something or even give them a look to let them know they were caught, but he doesn't want to get them in trouble assuming Celestia didn't catch it. It would also make everything really uncomfortable and could result in him having to actually explain out loud exactly why his suit doesn't have a wiener.

Celestia finishes her inspection and stands in front of Cure, looking at his face from only about a hoof lower. "I wonder if this is how you will look when fully grown," she comments. Either she’s already forgotten he’s not really an alicorn, which is unlikely, or she’s saying it for appearance’s sake. Or, he guesses, she figures he’ll eventually do something crazy enough to meet whatever criteria there is.

The thought has bounced around in Cure’s head a number of times and, although he’s not necessarily enamored with the idea of ascending at one point he can’t say his parents are alone in wondering what it would actually take. From some of the stories Ed had read with his granddaughter, Celestia supposedly ascended when she first moved the sun and Luna, when she did the same with the moon. In others and, he thinks in canon, they always were alicorns.

He’s all but certain that is not the case here though, simply for the fact that the princess apparently assumed he had ascended. The only way she could have come to that conclusion is if she or Luna had done so also. More than likely, he figures it had to have been the latter given that she not only knew about the process, but also expected to be able to sense its occurrence.

Either that or, like he had joked with his mom so many months ago, perhaps other ponies have ascended as well. Thankfully she said she doesn't eat meat, so there's a pretty good chance he won't wind up on her plate under any circumstances. At least, not more than he already has with his fruits.

Cadance’s ascension, for whatever reason, wasn’t theorized much in anything he recalls. The only thing that stands out was she defeated some evil sorcerer with love somehow. That sounds pretty lame to him, so either there’s more to the story or she was ascended specifically to deal with the Crystal Empire’s eventual emergence.

That sounds like a pretty massive middle finger to everypony that ruled the Crystal Empire in the past, though, because worthy as she may eventually be, presumably some of those ponies did a fine and dandy job of running the place for quite a while and all they got in return was the reaper’s sweet embrace.

Similarly, as monumental as raising the sun or moon is, unicorns had done it for who knows how long, even if they had to do it as a group ritual. The idea that some “chosen one” was sent to take over and given all the things she needed to accomplish the task singlehoofedly, then was rewarded when she did so, similarly reeks of favoritism.

He’d previously been told that unicorns did not, in fact, burn themselves out when raising the sun, but it was very taxing. The Hearth’s Warming play line he thought said exactly that was nowhere to be found when he checked, but it still strikes him as odd that whoever was nearly killing themselves for the sake of the planet and got bupkis in return when somepony “better” came along and took over.

Dismissing his thoughts on the subject as unimportant in the present, Cure shrugs his wings at the princess’s musing, figuring that the best course of action is to follow her lead.

"Probably. Proportionally, this frame is roughly the same as a large earth pony. This is towards the upper end as far as musculature but unless something weird were to happen during puberty this is about how I would look as an adult if I wanted to… or if that's just how I ended up, I suppose. For all the cosmetic alterations I do to disguise myself I haven't really consciously done anything to change my overall shape."

"Disguise yourself?" the captain asks. “You mean hide that you're an alicorn?”

Cure turns his head right, looking under his wing at the shorter mares. "Yep. I didn't want anypony knowing about the horn and wings before talking to the princess. Believe it or not, I do try my best not to be a bother."

"Ah."

Turning back to the princess, he continues, "Since this isn't my body and there's not what you would really call vital organs, I am able to pretty easily alter the shape. For example," he sits on his haunches while he changes his forehooves into talons and his muzzle to a beak.

At the same time he changes the shape of the suit's head, making his features more angular like a pony, griffon hybrid approximately would be, altering his wing shape at the same time. "I've not scanned a hippogriff, but this is roughly what a tall, extremely muscular one would look like, I think."

"No vital organs?" Celestia questions as she takes in his new form.

"Right. It does have lungs, but no brain or GI tract. There's a heart, but I have my own, too. If this thing was decapitated I would still be fine because that's not where I am in it. I would lose my hearing and eyesight, but that wouldn’t stop me from regrowing eyes, ears, or whatever somewhere else."

He hears his mom quietly whisper, “Do it!” before his sire leans over and nudges her with his shoulder, shooting her a disapproving look.

"Huh. This is all very, very strange," Cpt. Shield comments. "I've never heard of a hippogriff with a horn. I have to say, talons that large…" she drifts off, staring.

Cure holds them out, allowing the unicorn to take one in a hoof and inspect them. "They're a little intimidating, aren't they? These are just a scaled up set from a griffon, unsharpened though. I'm not sure if hippogriffs' are exactly the same."

“Unsharpened?” the captain asks, glancing between the colt’s face and the talons, “They certainly look right to me.”

“I can make them as sharp as a surgical knife,” he explains. “It’s just a matter of making the one edge narrower, after all. I mean… that’s all you’re doing when you’re sharpening a blade.”

“True,” she concedes, releasing his talons and stepping back. “Something… isn’t quite right,” she adds, looking up at him appraisingly.

"He is very close," Celestia says. Turning back to address the colt she continues, "This is a fair amount wider and more muscular than any hippogriff I have seen, even accounting for the height. I have seen some taller hippogriffs, but not typically much beyond your sire.

“Perhaps if a large, muscular earth pony were to have a foal with an unusually large, strong griffon they could look similar.” She looks him over again from top to bottom before adding, “They also have feathers from here down," she points to just above his fetlock, “on both their fore and hind legs.

"Also, their ears are internal and they typically have longer feathers near the entrance to prevent water getting in when fishing. All told, a close estimation if you’ve not had the opportunity to see one before.”

"Thanks boss. I think I’ll stick to being a normal…” he hesitates and corrects, “normal-ish pony though," he says, starting to change back at the same time. The mares move back to the table as Cure levitates the seat out of his way and retakes his place opposite the princess. "So… we good?"

"I'm not sure I'm good," the captain comments, somewhat at a loss as to where to start. "This is far, far, FAR beyond what I thought a biomaniuplator is capable of. I know concerns were voiced before… I can't help but feel they were warranted, in a way."

The lieutenant asks, "Why didn't you use this disguise against the minotaurs? I can't imagine they would have been bold enough to attack an alicorn."

Cure looks to his left and extends his wing as it morphs into a long, unsharpened scythe, absorbing the feathers in the process, then rotates it forward in a way a wing joint can't. The officers lean back reflexively, but the princess just looks on in fascination.

"They attacked a far scarier looking, objectively, being with four of these for arms. Plus I didn't want word to get out of another alicorn until I checked in with the boss lady. I didn’t know who would be interrogating them when we arrived." He rotates the arm back, changing it back to a wing at the same time.

“And I appreciate your thoughtfulness,” she nods in approval. “So you are controlling this… construct? I suppose that’s an accurate word. Or perhaps golem, though that doesn’t seem quite right since you are inside it. Regardless, how does it work?”

“It really is a suit. I think the right term would be exosuit, or exoskeleton, though the latter is less accurate as it’s clearly more than just the bones. Its nervous and cardiopulmonary systems are hooked directly into mine. Trust me when I say that connecting my body to this is very invasive. It also takes a lot of mass to create,” he points to the empty pots. “It’s not feasible for anypony else to use, especially since a bigger pony would need a larger suit as well.”

“I don’t believe anypony was considering that as a possibility,” she explains. “I had assumed it would require your talent in order to put on or remove.”

“It would,” he confirms, “so you don’t have to worry about anypony runnin around in big bug dragon suits or anything. Of course, I could always do the cosmetic changes necessary to make ponies look like other creatures if you have or would like to have zebra spies out there or whatever. Or other races, I suppose.”

"The idea would panic other countries," Solar points out. “Though I suspect that even without that the other nations would lose their minds if they knew half of what you could do.”

"I kinda figured that’s why the zebras came,” Title says, turning to the princess. “They wanted to take out their competition, didn’t they?"

"That is the assumption," Celestia confirms. "We believe the group sought to head off what they see as a potential loss of future export income. Many of the alchemical mixtures they had are ones I recognize. They work much as you described your airborne gas, rendering a pony sleepy. One in their possession is strictly forbidden; it fogs memories as well."

“Jeez… so they were gonna, what? Gas us, whisk me away, and hope that nopony here pinned it on the zebras when the freaking car coupling was melted through? That… doesn’t sound like they would get away with it.”

“You may be underestimating how much income some Zebrican tribes stand to lose from your inventions, Cure,” Celestia explains. “The minotaurs’ involvement caused them to change their plans; they may have simply uncoupled the cars by other means if they felt they had time. They would have been some distance away before anypony realized something was wrong.”

“You can just detach train cars while it’s moving without anypony noticing?” Title asks.

“The last few cars? In the middle of the night?” Lt. Spear rhetorically asks. “An attentive engineer may have noticed less weight pretty quickly, and it would have been noticed when the train went through Detrot, but in all likelihood they would have had a several hour head start by then. Even once an engineer notices, it takes a while to stop the train and let anypony know what’s happened.

"If nopony noticed and you all had been unconscious… well,” she waves her hoof in a “there you have it” motion. “From there they would just have to deny involvement, which is exactly what they're doing now. We could suspect them all we want, but proving anything would be far more difficult, especially if they had succeeded.”

Celestia picks up from there, “Many hospitals and clinics rely on their restorative potions for emergencies. Your origin cell and blood transfusion trees negate much of that need, but news of those has not spread very far as they are still in testing. Only Baltimare is currently using them, and only for dire emergencies until more thorough testing is complete. Initial results have been very promising.

“Unfortunately, the zebras have been quite uncooperative thus far. In their belongings we found a hoofdrawn map. Though unlabeled, I am familiar enough with my cities that I immediately recognized Fillydelphia. We suspect they had forces on the ground waiting for the train cars to come to a stop just west of Hollow Shades.

"We have teams looking for signs of traffic along the tracks, but their magic could obscure much of any would-be evidence. There are paths through the woods to the north; if they had taken you shortly after midnight they could have been on a boat leaving the city by eight this morning. We also sent a letter to the captain in Fillydelphia to shut down the port for an inspection. Ships are still being searched right now.

“Of course, there is the possibility they had more… malicious and immediate intents that would not have required them to uncouple the train at all."

“Gas us, kill me, and chuck my body off the train, you mean?” he casually asks. The princess cringes at the blunt question but nods nonetheless.

"It doesn’t look like that was their plan. Or at least, not their only one,” Cpt. Shield interjects. She lifts a folder in her hoof, holding it towards the princess. “We got word back from Fillydelphia while you were at dinner, ma'am.”

She takes it in her magic and reads the contents, thanking the captain. "A Zebrican trade vessel arrived yesterday morning, unloaded its freight, and inexplicably did not take any on for their return trip. They replenished their food and water stores and even took on more than needed for their crew count. The docking paperwork indicates they were scheduled to embark this morning before noon, still empty.”

She looks around the room with a single raised brow. When no questions arise she continues reading aloud. "They attempted to depart when guard units began moving into the area, but stopped when ordered to by a squad of pegasi. The captain won't talk but the crew was told they would be taking passengers back and they were not to interact with them at all."

"No hard evidence?" Title asks.

"Nothing we can use to detain them. They didn't commit any crime and stopped immediately when ordered to. However, they will be on our watchlist now; both the captain and the ship. We've sent word to the Zebrican embassy asking for identification for the assailants we don’t already know. They've given a few names but denied knowledge of them being in the country. A representative has requested we release them into their custody immediately."

"Are you going to?" Deed asks.

"Absolutely not," she denies. "As I mentioned, a number of the solutions they were carrying are highly illegal, and since a sworn member of the Royal Guard was there as witness and to take custody," she smiles beautifully at Solar, "they were detained legally while attempting to commit a crime and carrying contraband. Well done, corporal."

Solar looks dumbstruck at the mare. "Ma'am?"

"Though I understand this is only your second arrest, you performed your duties beyond what was expected. You stood in defense of others, though unarmed, unarmored, outnumbered, and off duty. You remained with the prisoners until they were properly secured despite the late hour, and followed protocol regarding their treatment and the confiscation of evidence.

“Incidentally," she looks to the captain who nods and passes over another folder. She reviews it briefly and passes it to Solar, "congratulations on your acceptance to the Maelstrom Artillery Academy, Corporal Solar Strike. We expect great things from you."

Solar stands briefly, beaming a thousand watt smile, and snaps off a crisp salute. "Thank you, ma'am," when she smiles and nods he looks to the others adding, "Captain. Lieutenant. I will do my best."

"We know you will, son," the captain responds.

Deed leans over and wraps his forelegs over the unicorn’s withers, hugging him against his side and congratulating him while Title and Cure offer their congratulations as well.

"Now then," Celestia states, calling attention back to the matter at hoof, "needless to say I will be having a meeting with the Zebrican ambassador. I would like to have your permission," she says to the parents, "to share the update in regards to Cure's tribal status. It would offer immense protection beyond even what I can do now."

"How so?" Title asks.

The captain answers immediately, "Loath as I am to admit it, foalnapping an alicorn, especially a colt, is significantly worse than a member of any other tribe. The public would…" she pauses, searching for the right words. "I admit I'm not sure… Saying the public would be outraged feels inadequate."

The lieutenant adds her thoughts, "They would be screaming for bloody vengeance and demanding war. I would bet money on it.” She pauses, then shrugs and admits, “Stars, I can’t deny even I would be incensed. Just imagine if somegriff were to take a swing at her highness," she nods towards the princess.

Once again Cure finds himself with mixed feelings. The thought of a griffon attempting to harm the princess is ludicrous almost to the point of being comical; they would likely be no more than a charred smear on the wall. At the same time a flash of fury surges through his veins at the suggestion that a griffon would even try.

It dawns on him what the princess is truly proposing. His official tribal status would be updated, but that doesn’t necessarily mean he has to go around winged and horned all of the time unless he wants to. It’s a technical change, sure, and ponies that would have access to his talent registration form would also see the official documentation, but for the most part it shouldn’t be an issue.

He had been complaining about not being able to freely use his wings and horn for a while now, but despite that, making it official still makes him anxious. At least he doesn’t have to worry about Guard units being dispatched to investigate if he does go out to heal ponies somewhere.

A foreign government would know there's another alicorn out there, but they would also be aware that going after him would be tantamount to declaring war. Not only would they be declaring war, but they would be doing so via one of the worst, politically, ways possible.

Targeting a minor civilian is bad enough to put a country on everyone's shit list; going after a healer and, as far as they would probably assume, future royalty… that's the kind of thing that makes even stalwart allies start to question their loyalties. After all, if they're willing to go after a pony princeling then what's stopping them from doing the same thing to any other race?

"Huh…" Cure mumbles.

Celestia smiles mischievously. "If you’re going out in public undisguised then I hope you are prepared for the public attention, young colt." She pauses, looking him up and down, "Which is very odd to say when you look like that." She shakes her head, clearing out the distraction and continues, "You are going to be rather popular, I suspect."

Lt. Spear nods in agreement. "Every parent with great ambition be foisting their daughter on you to marry. I'm sure you got that a lot growing up, ma'am," she says, turning to face the princess.

"Actually, quite the opposite," she explains with a scrunched snout. "Many treated me like I was some abomination. The world did not know what an alicorn was and assumed I was a tall, winged unicorn. It was a far more uncivilized time."

"But… you're beautiful!" Title boldly declares. "Even if they didn't know what an alicorn was I wouldn't expect hostility."

"Thank you, Title dear, but I assure you many a noble lady came to view me as little more than a threat or, at best, a potential consort for their husband to have like some… possession.” The ancient mare fails to keep the sadness from her face. “A curiosity more than a pony. Those are not easy times by any measure."

"Creatures suck sometimes," Cure sighs out. The comment draws disappointed agreements from everypony present. “I think I’ll probably keep doing what I’m doing. I may, on occasion, go out publicly, but I’ll probably continue to do it in disguise, at least until I'm older. That's too much attention right now. The girls will be bummed though.”

"That is perfectly acceptable, Cure," Celestia says. "I agree that at your age it would be quite burdensome to have to deal with the attention. When you feel ready you are welcome to come to the castle for assistance."

“I was worried you would insist I move to Canterlot or something. I mean, I’m not completely opposed to it eventually, but…”

“That would be a huge life change,” she nods in understanding. The princess pauses, weighing something on her mind, then comes to a decision. “I have considered asking you to relocate, but I have not done so for a few reasons. First, we began monitoring who comes and goes from Golden Hills after your trees were stolen. Should anypony suspicious arrive unexpectedly they will be under heavy surveillance. Staff Sergeant Bulwark and Captain Stance have been made aware as well.”

“Okay…” Cure slowly drawls, unsure how to take the news. He has little left to hide now either way, so no huge downside comes to mind.

“Second, I believe that since your trees have been delivered, there is little to gain from anypony making an attempt, especially knowing the consequences. Last but not least there’s the issue of removing you from your friends, something I would only do under the most dire of circumstances.”

“Thanks, princess. Just so you know, I have an alias that I suppose your guards in Baltimare should be aware of,” he confesses, projecting an Illusion of his Riddle disguise. He includes the Celtic Tree cutie mark he’d shown his mom when building his suit. “I use the name Riddle in this disguise.”

“An apt name. I somewhat envy that ability, Cure,” Celestia admits. She knows he is aware that she can go out in disguise as well, but she probably wants to keep that under wraps. Cure isn’t sure if it’s willful denial or if the possibility of their ruler wanting to spend time as a normal pony seems completely unbelievable, but he has no intentions of calling her out for it.

"So what's the plan with this officer and tha drug company?” Deed asks. “They didn't send the zebras, did they?"

"We don't think so," Cpt. Shield answers. "We're not sure how the zebras knew about Cure or your travel plans. We're still looking into it, but we need time. The ponies we've questioned aren't happy that they were sent after a foal. The leader, the unicorn you identified," she clarifies, motioning to Cure, "didn't want to be directly involved any more than necessary.

“That's why he hired the minotaurs. There were four train tickets to Manehattan along with brochures from trans-Celestia Sea passenger ships. It looks like the minotaurs were going to be on the next train out and, likely out of the country by this time next week.”

Title asks, "Why'd he take the job at all?"

"Money. His crew was originally from Chicoltgo. They seem to have been struggling finding work after a failed stint working security. A warehouse they were hired to protect got hit. We suspect they were desperate and took an under-the-table job to get by. We think we'll be able to identify who hired them even though the unicorn,” she glances at her report, “Green Slip, has clammed up, insisting he wants a lawyer."

"He has the right to counsel," Celestia sighs. "It may take a little time to sort everything out, unfortunately. We may eventually offer a reduced sentence if we cannot otherwise compel testimony. As the intended victims I wanted to discuss that with you before we would consider that possibility."

Title and Deed look at each other and nod. Deed speaks up saying, "I think we're fine with that, yer highness. We're more interested in catchin the real culprit than the middlepony. I’m guessin he ain't gettin off light either way."

"No he is not," she fiercely insists. "It is only due to his failure that he is not facing banishment or, depending on their ultimate objective, execution. He shall not have his freedom for quite a while, that I promise.

"As for the officer, it’s entirely possible there’s no way to conclusively prove they shared information right now. If we can link the mercenary group to the pharmaceutical company then we can begin questioning their executives. With luck, somepony will have made a mistake somewhere and we can identify the guilty party or parties."

"So… basically nothing is going to happen unless that unicorn tells you who hired him," Cure summarizes.

"Or if they have anything we can use at their base of operations," Lt. Spear adds. "They do still have an office in Chicoltgo that is being searched right now, as are the homes of everypony they employ. We're hoping that the leader got something in writing from whoever hired them, but it's unlikely given the job."

"Yeah, that would be a little too convenient, wouldn't it?" Title comments.

"It would," Cpt. Shield agrees. "We do have one lead, though. In the company safe they had ninety one thousand bit coins all stacked together." She furrows her brows for a second and clarifies, "Ninety coins, each in the thousand bit denomination. We believe that may have been half of their payment for the job, minus the ten they paid the minotaurs. We have the local bank branch and the Chicoltgo one checking for large withdrawals over the last six months to see if any matches come up."

Cure lets out an impressed whistle. "Two hundred grand to nab a foal. Mom's guess was way off. I can kinda see why they were willing to take the job… that's a lot of money for a struggling mercenary group. Still, it feels low given the risk."

"I think your perception is skewed, Cure," Solar says. "That's about what I'll make in seven years. Well, maybe less if I get a raise." He pauses and gives the officers a curious look.

"You do," Lt. Spear confirms.

"Sweet! Err… anyhow, they definitely didn't anticipate running into somepony like you. They probably figured they could send in the minotaurs, have them hit everypony with Sleep spells, grab you, and be out with nopony the wiser until morning."

"I guess," he responds with a shrug. "Those coins stand out, though. How would they ever spend them without getting attention? I know ponies give me weird looks when I use 'em."

Title speaks up to remind him, "You're a foal, though, honey. I mean, they're still pretty uncommon for most transactions, but they're not that unusual for big purchases. Plus they would be spread out over a dozen ponies who travel for work. It's probably not as easily tracked as you're thinking."

"Exactly," the captain agrees. "Spent slowly over time it wouldn't stand out at all."

"What about the minotaurs, ma'am?" Solar inquiries.

"Foalnapping is a first degree offense, the same as murder. Again, only due to their failure to cause harm will they not face a far longer imprisonment. They will likely serve eight to ten years for the attempt, after which they will be expelled permanently from Equestria."

The room goes silent for a few moments while everypony processes everything. Celestia's horn glows for a brief second but only Cure and Solar react, looking questioningly. "Refreshments should be here shortly."

"Coffee?" Cure excitedly asks.

"Blech!" she retches, making a disgusted face. "I suppose I need not comment about it stunting your growth."

"That's exactly why I drink it. I would be four meters tall by now otherwise!"

"That sounds awful," Title says, cringing at the thought.

"Being tall is very difficult at times," Celestia agrees. "I do not envy my tall earth ponies. Unlike myself they do not have the option of reducing their size to comfortably visit many establishments."

Cure asks, "Hey princess I was curious about something, if you don't mind my asking… Were your relatives taller like you are or is it due to you being an alicorn?"

"The latter. As far as my family history is known to me, we had only unicorns as relations. In fact, it wasn't until I was a couple centuries old that I happened upon a traveling group of the taller earth ponies for the first time. We had initially suspected they were a fourth tribe until they showed the same capabilities as other earth ponies."

Cure has to hold back the urge to ask if she was a unicorn before she ascended. It wouldn’t be out of place given the subject, but with the others present he isn’t sure if that’s some kind of taboo topic to bring up. Unfortunately his curiosity likely won’t be sated until he’s gotten to know the princess a little more.

"Fourth?"

"I did not meet a bat pony until far later; they were a southern, nomadic tribe. Membranous wings do not do as good as holding in heat and their coats tend to be thinner. Their innate magic protects them from the worst of the cold but they are more affected than pegasi."

"Huh. Sgt. Song didn't mention that. I coulda thickened her coat over the winter if she'd said something. Thanks for sharing, princess." She smiles and nods in answer.

"She seems fine when we go liftin, sport. I bet she woulda asked if she was strugglin."

"You had better be prepared for serious competition from Staff Sergeant Iron Bulwark's squad, captain," Celestia warns. She waves a wing to the left side of the table and motions to Cure with her head. "You can see the results of months of training with Cure. I have seen BRG3’s numbers… your squads will be in for a real challenge."

"Ah. I hadn't put two and two together there. Fear not, your highness. The CRG squads are up to any challenge." She pauses, looking doubtful at the colt in the alicorn suit. "Well… within reason, I suppose."

A knock at the door causes conversation to stop. Celestia's golden aura engulfs the handle, pulling it open and admitting a dark blue earth pony mare. She smiles and gives a half bow to the princess as she pushes her small service cart in, then freezes on the spot, jaw falling open when her eyes land on Cure.

Before anypony can act, he stands and steps around behind the officers, looking at the treats and tea service she's brought. "Good evening, my little pony," he softly greets.

The noise coming from her isn't so much words as it is disjointed squeaks as she stares wide eyed up at the gorgeous blue slice of divine deliciousness before her. Cure briefly reflects again that he’s currently flat-crotched, but from the front an earth pony would have to stoop down to check which would be incredibly taboo, and there's also the cart between them.

"May I?" he asks, glancing at the cart.

Struck unprepared, she dumbly nods without looking away. Cure levitates the teacups in front of everypony as well as his place, then does the same with the plates of cookies and biscuits. He carefully pours tea for everypony, starting with the princess, then the captain, lieutenant, Solar, his mom, sire, then his own.

While he's doing that he notices the mare slowly reaching up with a hoof to touch his chest. Done serving everypony, he places the teapot back on the cart, takes a half step back, lifts her hoof in his, and plants a kiss on her fetlock. “Thank you for such prompt service, my dear. Truly the princess is blessed to have such dedicated assistants.”

He gives her a genuine smile, releases her hoof, turns, and walks back to his seat. All the while she stays frozen and staring at her hoof, nearly vibrating while glowing bright purple.

"Are you alright, Comfort, dear?" Celestia gently calls. The soft voice and a tap of a wing in her withers snaps the mare awake. She lets out a loud squeak, quickly bows, apologizes, and darts out of the room leaving the cart behind. Celestia giggles, turning to Cure and, in a reproachful tone, scolds the colt. "Cure! That was mean!"

"What?! She looked like she was about to explode in joy! I just made her whole night!"

Cpt. Shield casts a wary eye towards his sire. "Where does an eight year old learn to do that?!” she asks, waving behind herself to the abandoned cart.

Deed holds a hoof to his chest in the most innocent look he can possibly convey. “The colt’s a natural, I tells ya! I ain’t even taught ‘em the family techniques an’ he’s got a whole herd ‘a fillies after ‘em!”

Title, giggling while speaking, agrees with her husband. “You should see him at his job! I don’t think anypony gets hugged at work as often as he does!”

Cure folds his forelegs across his chest and huffs out, “I can’t help that I’m adorable!”

“Actually,” Lt. Spear looks at him appraisingly, “I think you may be very unique in that you can. That,” she waves at all of him, “for example, would cause any mare to stop and stare.”

Quickly changing his colors to the golden macaw theme that wowed his friends, he adds in occasional lines of bioluminescent gold, green, and blue and spreads his wings wide, nearly filling his area of the room. “Better?” he asks, smirking at her dropped jaw.

“Sun and stars…” she mumbles. “Okay, change back. That’s too much,” she insists, struggling to peel her eyes away. Chuckling mischievously, he nods and reverts to his typical blue and green coat.

“You are going to be a downright terror, aren’t you?” Celestia asks with a sigh.

“Bah, I’m not that bad,” he insists, ignoring the deadpan looks from everypony. “All I did was kiss her hoof and compliment her! Y’all are actin like I asked her out on a date.”

She levels an accusing stare at the colt and asks, "What am I supposed to say when the entire castle's staff is asking where the alicorn stallion is, hmm?"

"Tell them he's an eight year old colt who can appear as if he’s an adult due to his special talent and is, even on a normal day, somewhat flirtatious and playful," he casually answers.

She pauses, furrows her brow, and nods slowly in acceptance. "I'm beginning to see how you have successfully avoided lying to anypony, Cure. Your ability to be deceptive with the truth is admirable, in a way, and somewhat concerning in others."

"Were you a lawyer in a past life or something?" Solar asks.

"Hey! That's downright hurtful!” Cure growls in a raised voice. “I don't call you mean things, corporal!"

The scowling colt's offended look gets a few laughs out of the group. Silence settles in the room as everypony takes a few moments to sip at their tea or nibble on a snack.

"So, your trees," Celestia says, breaking the silence.

"Right," he nods, stepping over to the remaining shrubs. He'd used a whole one's mass between the activities on the train and the fruits and presents he made, though he spread the loss out over all of them instead of taking from just one. His current suit took up seven of them, but the viral trees take far less mass than each shrub had to offer.

He shifts mass from two of the plants to the remaining three and, realizing he forgot the oil flowers, starts to grab the empty planter from his depleted shrub before pausing. He makes a dozen seeds of various scents, then glances to the lieutenant and makes two more sets, levitating them before the three mares.

“There’s a dozen different flowers that will, in addition to the normal plant, grow a stalk with perfumed oil bulbs. The pegasi I’ve given them to love them and the leaves are good for when you’re traveling or a quick touch-up. Captain, you don’t need them as much, but the oil is great for coats and smells nice. Feel free to gift them to somepony if you’re not interested,” he finishes with a shrug.

The three thank him as they put the seeds away. The lieutenant and captain both put them in their saddlebags, Celestia teleports hers somewhere.

As they put away their seeds he finishes making his trees, levitating them to sit between the captain and princess and piling the tree seeds on the table.

"One Antiviral tree, one Vaccine tree, and a dozen seeds for each," he says as he moves to stand by the princess. "It sounds silly, but could I get something saying that you've received them? Ya know, to have an official record and whatnot? And mom, I think the care instructions and manuals are in your bag."

"That's not silly at all," she assures him. As Title digs out and passes over the packets Celestia's horn glows for a second, then a paper, ink pot, and quill appear in front of her. She levitates the quill and writes out a few lines, signing it and, with another flash of her horn, places some kind of embossed official stamp on it. “Ensuring proper documentation is a wise decision, Cure.”

"Neat!" He looks over the form and gives her a grateful smile. "I need to learn those spells. And whatever the hay you did to that envelope you sent, ya big showoff."

The princess smiles at the accusation and assures him, "I will have a copy of each delivered to you before you leave Sunday. The envelope trick is slightly more complicated than a simple spell, though."

"Awesome! Thanks, boss."

Giggling she finally asks, "Why do you keep calling me boss? I don't think anypony has ever called me that."

Shrugging his wings he says, "Dunno. I started referring to you as the boss lady when we initially discussed the options I could explore in regards to using my talent. Boss is a single syllable and, while a little silly, is still accurate." He walks around the officers and retakes his seat as the princess slides the receipt to his mom.

Tilting her head curiously, she asks, “I don’t understand. You considered contacting me immediately? I first got word of your talent from your registration form.”

“As the captain and your advisors noted, my talent could easily be abused. We were initially afraid it was illegal to have even though it’s not like I picked it from a list. I think it was Amethyst that suggested we make an appointment to seek your guidance in court. To be fair, all my parents thought I was being paranoid by keeping my capabilities quiet.”

“But… special talents are exempted from typical restrictions,” she notes.

“Earth ponies living in suburbia don’t know the intricacies of laws in regards to magic, boss, and in my defense, it's not like you can un-ring this bell,” he finishes, motioning to himself.

“I see. I suppose many could be unaware,” she concedes, "and I suppose your secretive inclination has served you well enough."

"Yep. None of those jerks had any idea what they were up against. See, Solar? They failed to know their enemy."

"You were right," the unicorn concedes. "That doesn't mean you're any less crazy though."

Unable to dispute the fact, Cure just shrugs in acceptance.

"Should we start calling you boss, ma'am?" the captain teasingly asks.

"Mmm… no, I don't think so. It makes me sound like I'm the head of some kind of nefarious organization or crime syndicate."

"Well we are paying for protection, and if we don't pay up an enforcer will eventually come by." Smiling innocently at the pout he asks something that’s bugged him since her last visit. “Hey princess, when you came by, like the captain pointed out, you said there were concerns voiced about my talent. Do I need to worry about some nutjob showin up thinkin I’m… I dunno,” he admits, rolling his hoof airily, “plotting some kinda crazy scheme or somethin?”

The princess cocks a brow and glances briefly to her equally confused officers. She notes that Solar looks curious as well, but Cure’s parents are both looking at her waiting eagerly for her response. “I believe I may have left you with the wrong impression, Cure. I directly told them you were not to be disturbed until you and your parents determine you are ready to be more publicly known. Or never, should you so choose. If anypony should seek you out without my express approval, notify the local guard immediately. I will not be happy if my command is ignored.”

“Ah. Gotcha. When you said that members of the Archmage’s Assembly were,” he does air quotes, “‘overly insistent’ that something must be done… well,” he finishes, cringing. “I didn’t even know what the Archmage’s Assembly was. You say Archmage to a suburban earth pony, well, we assume,” he pauses in thought for a brief second.

“Fire everywhere,” Title finishes. Solar and Deed nod in agreement; the former slightly more hesitantly than the latter. Celestia and the two officers look on bewildered as she continues. “He literally has not left the house once with wings or a horn visible since you visited without first altering his colors, changing his appearance, and hiding his cutie mark out of concern that somepony would show up to take proactive measures, convinced he is going to do something.”

“I… am so, so sorry!” Celestia breathily apologizes, holding a hoof to her chest with a horrified look. “I certainly did not intend to cause you such distress! Cure, that will not happen, I assure you! You may continue to hide if you so choose, but know that you are not in danger due to your abilities! If anything you are considered, and don’t misconstrue this please, a highly valued asset.”

“The Archmages aren’t battlemages,” Cpt. Shield explains while the princess vigorously nods in agreement. “They’re mostly quill pushers with political clout since so many unicorns are members. They have researchers and some retired military, but… they’re not actually part of the military at all. Hay, I’m a member! I haven’t been there since I was… sixteen? I think? And I only went there looking for employment opportunities before I decided to join the guard!” She sheepishly admits, “I keep paying my dues for the member’s only discount card, mostly.”

“I wasn’t joking or exaggerating,” Solar solemnly admits. “Cure is, hooves down, the most paranoid foal I’ve ever heard of by a huge margin.”

“Most foals aren’t paranoid at all, dude! They’re naive as fudge! Drift’s the only one in our group that wouldn’t instantly trust almost anything an adult says!” Tilting his head he qualifies slightly with, “Eh, maybe Dawn too since she’s been around me and, possibly Coast. She seems a little… frankly, cynical, I suppose. Besides!” he suddenly shouts, “I literally have ponies, and zebras, out to get me! They tried to murder and, or foalnap me just last night!” he hisses.

“Easy, champ… it’s okay,” his sire insists, placatingly waving his hooves. He turns back to the princess once Cure visibly relaxes some and points out, “Putting ‘em on edge may not’a been the worst thing, given somepony actually did come. If he weren’t waitin fer the knife he may not’a seen ‘em comin.”

Huffing, Cure slowly nods. “I guess. I’ll still keep an eye out, though. How much of Zebrica's income am I a threat to?”

Celestia winces slightly and slowly answers, “If your trees only stay in Equestria and do everything we hope for? Offhoof I would estimate twenty to thirty percent of their export income.”

“They’re going to murder my freaking face off,” he solemnly declares. “Or… they’ll try. Again.”

“They would not make an attempt now," Celestia assures him. "To do so would invite the wrath of the entire nation."

"Okay, so I would be dead, but they'll get theirs too," he answers with a shrug. "I can't say that's alleviated all my concerns, highness."

"Cure." The princess simply saying his name pulls his focus directly to the ancient being. "You have no need to be concerned about the zebras. They will not harm you or anypony else."

Staring directly into her eyes, she can't help but notice his near complete lack of movement. His chest expands and deflates to show he's breathing, but otherwise… nothing. No twitches, blinks, ear movement, shifting of the eyes, or motion anywhere else on his body. There is simply nothing to read to indicate what the colt is thinking. It has been many centuries, Celestia reflects, since she has been completely at a loss as to what another pony may do next.

"Okay," he nods once. "I just want to be perfectly clear," the colt slowly says, carefully enunciating every syllable. His voice is flat, lacking any emotion. "If they try to, or even threaten to harm anypony I care about…" he looks to his right, "my family, my friends," he continues, turning back to meet her eyes again, "my customers, coworkers, my mailpony, tax pony, librarian, or even just the nice lady that waves hi to me and my friends on our way to school… I shall be exceedingly displeased with them."

Silence hangs in the air for several long seconds while the princess and the officers wait for him to continue.

"That's it?" the captain finally asks, drawing his gaze. Brows raised, she continues in an almost mocking tone. "You'll be displeased?" Lt. Spear slowly inches away from the table, unwilling to be in the direct line of fire between an enormous slab of alicorn muscle and her captain. The captain barks out a laugh, shaking her head in disbelief of his arrogance.

Cure looks back at Celestia, barely quirking his lips and slightly raising a single brow in question. Thankfully quick on the uptake, she smiles faintly and gives a minute nod. With the princess's blessing he quickly enacts his plan.

The captain hasn't stopped yet, flicking a hoof and dismissively saying, “I somehow doubt they would be more concerned over your ‘displeasure’ than an official-”

She freezes as something quickly loops under her right foreleg at the pit, the side of her barrel, across her withers, and back over to go under her left leg. Slowly turning to her right, she finds Lt. Spear has backed a full body length away and is staring wide-eyed with her wings spread up in alarm. She turns her head to face the colt and finds her vision obscured by a miniature version of his face; mane, horn, ears, and all, on the end of a thick snake's body.

She tries to recoil away, but finds that the lasso around her barrel is holding her very firmly in place. Inching closer as she leans as far back as possible, the diminutive doppelganger rests its head gently on her muzzle before opening its mouth. “Exceedingly displeased, captain. Exxxxx. Ssseed. Ing. Leeeee.” the snake-colt hisses ominously, flicking a forked tongue out at the end.

It dawns on the captain that, perhaps, antagonizing the alicorn colt may not be the best idea ever.

“Cure. That's enough," the princess calls.

“Fine!” comes the whine from the other side of the table as the snake rewinds from the captain’s face, under her leg, back over her withers, and under the table.

“Duuuuddde…” Solar calls, drawling out the word to convey a wide range of emotions.

“What?” the colt innocently asks. “The 'exceedingly' part is kinda important, ya know? I’ll be a whole lot more than just ‘displeased,’” he finishes with air quotes.

“That was awesome!” Title cheers, bouncing in her seat and clapping. “I still think you should do your other trick, though. Maybe like… right in front of their embassy while holding it in your hooves as you give a speech.”

“HA!” Nodding energetically, Cure agrees with his mom’s suggestion. “That would probably do the trick, huh? Just be like, ‘It’s my head this time, next time it’ll be yours!’ I swear if some… somezebra? Whatever, if one of ‘em does the whole ‘Diplomatic Immunity’ thing I’m goin all ‘It’s been rescinded!’ with the angriest scowl I can muster.”

Giggling, Title nods emphatically. “That was a good one! OOH!” she yells, clapping, “I got it! ‘You’re a disease… and I’m the Cure!’”

The laughing alicorn throws his forelegs in the air, almost falling back and groaning, “AWW! Mom! Come oooonnn! I was gonna totally use that one eventually! It doesn’t even make sense there!” Throwing both hooves towards the captain, he continues in a shout, “I just did the snake thing too! Dammit!” he growls, slapping the table. “Oh well,” he sighs, rubbing at his forehead, “I’ll come up with something else, I guess.”

“Please don’t,” Solar insists.

“Dude, I have like a million of ‘em already. Don’t worry, you ain’t seen nothin yet.”

Celestia trades confused looks with her officers. They both shrug helplessly with the same baffled look. The captain still seems more than a little shaken from her experience, though, with sweat lines visible in the pits of her armor and on the sides of her neck.

His softly chuckling sire sees fit to provide context to the bewildered group. “Tha two of ‘em, they like ta make up one-liners.” He nudges his wife with his foreleg and argues, “If’n yer usin it as a warnin then ya can’t beat, ‘I’ll be back,’ colt. Ya don’t even need to give a speech, just do yer thing, drop the line, slap yer head back inta place, turn, and walk away.”

“True… good point, pa. Oh well…” he trails off in wistful sigh.

“Pardon me… your head?” Celestia asks.

“Yeah, remember? No vital organs,” Cure reminds her. “I can take it off," he motions at his head, "like a hat. Of course, the problem would be talking,” he adds, pausing in thought.

“If I removed the head I would have to set up some small lungs and another set of vocal folds ‘cause the ones I’m usin right now are actually back here,” he says, pointing to his throat. “Eh, I’ll come up with something. It’s not like removing my head is that big ‘a deal anyhow.”

“It’s… not?” Lt. Spear hesitantly asks.

“Anypony can remove their own head, lieutenant. It’s putting back on that’s the real trick,” he finishes with a wink.

“I don’t know how to respond to that,” she solemnly replies, looking at everypony else for help.

“Cure… please do not remove any parts, even temporarily, in my presence,” Celestia pleadingly requests. The mischievous smile in response isn't exactly comforting.

“I just want to remind everypony that I’m not related to any of them,” Solar solemnly declares, looking to his left. “You’re all nuts, you do realize that, right?”

“You wound me, bro,” Cure teasingly replies, shooting the young stallion a pouty look which is completely disregarded.

“Noted, corporal,” the princess softly agrees. “And I had better not find any snakes in my castle, young colt, pony faced ones or not,” she adds, waving a warning hoof in his direction. “Or I assure you I shall be the one who is exceedingly displeased.”

“Fiiiiine,” he groans again. “You know there’s probably a couple dozen of ‘em, small ones at least, in yer garden, right?”

“And they had best stay there, out of my sight,” she gravely responds, lifting and fluffing her wings before settling them back on her sides.

“Yeesh. Message received, boss. Ope’nay on the nake’says,” he agrees while giving a sloppy salute. The sentence gets confused looks from everypony in the room, including his parents. “Nope on the snakes,” he quickly clarifies. “I’ll keep my scales to myself from now on, promise. At least, in your castle while I’m your guest,” he qualifies.

“Good enough,” she replies, looking somewhat relieved.

"Wait a second!" Cpt. Shield shouts, looking as if she just realized something, "Where exactly did that… snake come from?!"

The question causes Solar's eyes to almost bulge right out of his head. The three all burst out laughing, Cure and his mom falling on the table in a fit. Celestia's face glows red from a bright blush as she covers her mouth with her right hoof, torn between laughter and mortification.

Lt. Spear, between laughs, is the one to answer the increasingly red-faced captain. "It came out of his left side, his barrel, just under the table. Not… there!" she vaguely waves to the laughing colt's flank area.

"I couldn't tell!" the captain shouts in her own defense. She turns to the princess in a near panic shouting, "It was right on my face!" as she jabs a pointing hoof at her snout. "All I saw was that it disappeared under the table!" she finishes, thrusting both hooves to her right at the colt.

"I shoulda put a tiny hat on it!" Cure shouts as he and his parents break down in laughter again. Despite himself even Solar is shaking with barely contained mirth while covering his eyes with his pastern.

The princess closes her eyes and slowly shakes her head, fighting down her blush from the awkward situation. "Maker help me," she quietly prays.

After a few more seconds of chuckling the colt pushes himself back upright off the table. He lets out a long, laughing groan and reaches over to prod at his mom's shoulder. “Alright, alright…" he calls, "I feel like we may have gotten off topic somehow,” he begins.

“Wonder how that happened,” Solar quietly mumbles, barely getting a glance from the colt.

Done getting an update on everything from the train siege, Cure decides it's time to bring up some issues that he needs to make the princess aware of. He waits for his parents to regain their composure, then sits up straight and mimics the princess’s regal posture.

"Your majesty, if there aren’t any further topics you wished to address,” he says, pausing until she gently shakes her head no, “I have several important topics that I believe require your attention." The sudden change in tone and stance gets curious looks from the group, causing everypony to somewhat come to attention.

“Wait, Cure, you’re forgetting something,” Title interrupts. Everypony turns to look at her as she faces the captain. “We never found out if those three guards were real or not.”

Cure is almost certain they were not. He could tell as soon as he got off the train that the scent marker was going in a different direction from the palace. He figured they could be going to a Regional Health Authority lab of some kind, but the unicorn specifically said they were delivering them to her highness, so he doubts that.

The scent was strong enough that he’s confident it’ll last for several weeks if not the full couple months he intended. Figuring he can track that lead down later, he didn’t even think to bring it up during the meeting.

“No,” Cpt. Shield declares, shaking her head. She still keeps a wary eye on the colt and has noticeably moved a hoof or so away from the table. “We don’t know who they were, but aside from the normal assigned guards on the train, who were up near the engine by the way, there were no other guards present. That means there’s another party involved as well since, obviously, nopony would likely send mercenaries, then try to get you to just hoof the trees over when you’ve arrived.”

“Yeah, we figured that,” Cure acknowledges.

“From your note,” Celestia starts, “I know those were not legitimate antiviral trees. What were they?”

“Nothing too bad. The fruits are just tomatoes, but I filled the trunks with dormant, but ready to hatch, modified wasps that, instead of having venom, have an agent like mosquitos that'll itch like crazy.” He tilts his head consideringly and adds, “I guess that technically makes it venom, still, but it doesn't cause pain.”

Straightening back up, he continues, “Plucking a fruit will release an enzyme bringing them out of their hibernation and set them loose. They are incapable of breeding, nor can they digest anything, so they’ll die within a few hours, unable to reproduce, but in the meantime…” he trails off smiling menacingly.

The lieutenant nods in understanding. “So we should be on the lookout for anypony with mosquito bites?”

“Yup. They'll cause the same allergic reaction. I made sure it’s harmless, but exceedingly annoying, so they may run straight to the nearest clinic for a steroid shot.” Cure catches that Solar is giving him a curious look. He can only assume he’s wondering if Cure will say something about the scent marker he added.

He’s tempted to tell them right now and guide the Guard to their location, but figures that can wait until the morning. He would like to tag along, and given how late it is and how long of a day he’s had he’s more interested in finishing this meeting and going to bed.

A part of him also wants to not say anything at all and deal with the thieves on his own, but his only options are to clue in the princess or use extreme violence, and if this group had nothing to do with the mercenaries the latter feels a little too aggressive. For now.

“We'll alert clinics to be on the lookout for anypony with those symptoms,” Lt. Spear assures them as she reviews her notes. She slides them in front of Cure to look over.

“Umm… this is pretty detailed. Everypony won’t be able to read this, will they?”

“No,” the princess assures, “a much redacted version will be entered into the records. This version will remain confidential."

Cure nods, sliding the form to his parents. After they and Solar look it over he passes it back to the lieutenant who passes it to her left. The captain looks it over, nods, and gives it to the princess for final review.

Celestia casts a spell that duplicates the report, then redacts portions of the copy, sliding it back to Cure to review as she begins talking. His parents both lean over, so he moves the paper where they can all three see.

"Now the details will only remain in the classified version," she explains. "Your capabilities, for example," she waves to him indicating his suit, "as well as details one could potentially use to figure out how you subdued everycreature shall remain confidential, limited to only those I determine need to know."

“Thanks, princess!” Cure exclaims, sliding it back. “Now, in regards to some important topics I needed to make you aware of…” She nods and gives him a “go ahead” motion.

"These are more societal or social issues that are not immediate concerns, but, once revealed, will have massive impacts to the nation over the coming years or decades. Like our earlier conversation, I'm certain you would not appreciate first finding out from a newspaper advertisement.

"I suspect a conversation will need to take place at some point with agencies like Family Planning so everypony can start to think about what an ideal gender ratio would be and how we could implement a solution to get from where we are now to that goal. Of course there's a million factors that have to be considered, and I wouldn't even know where to start.

“Right now the country's population is around three million ponies if the Baltimare RHA stats are right, and the gender imbalance means that for each colt born there’s a little more than five fillies born as well. That means you only have about six hundred thousand colts and stallions in the nation, of which only so many are of child-producing age.

“What's more concerning is that while I've only scanned a few dozen stallions, about one in six has had a condition my talent indicates is a problem, causing them to only produce female sperm. If that trend applies elsewhere, you have well under half a million viable males in this entire country capable of siring colts."

Nodding in understanding, the princess explains, “Low population numbers and birth rates are why we have so many government agencies dedicated specifically to encouraging reproduction. They have been very successful over the last seven hundred years, though in times of war… Well, we had quite the crisis once.”

“Right, I remember hearing about that,” he agrees. “What I’m saying is that I can fix that problem pretty easily.”

The room is silent for a moment while the princess and two officers realize what Cure is saying. "You can alter the ratio?" the princess asks.

"Yes. I already know I could develop a treatment that would increase the likelihood of conceiving a colt. It’s not even that difficult, honestly. The problem is that if we were to just hoof it out to everypony the problem comes fifteen to twenty years later."

"Everypony would be having colts," Cpt. Shield finishes, looking around the table, "at least initially they would. Especially unicorns."

"That could end up being devastating for the country," Lt. Spear nods in understanding.

"Exactly," Cure agrees, "after all, a single stallion can impregnate several mares in a season but if you flip the ratio…" he trails off rolling a hoof.

Celestia cringes at the implied result. "Too few mares could similarly lead to an enormous population decline since a mare can only produce a single foal per year."

"Right. One possible solution is to develop two treatments; one to bring the ratio as close to fifty-fifty as is possible and another one to maximize the odds of a colt. Make the latter, at least, prescription only and maybe only give it to sires that already have a filly or two. The latter is far easier, by the way… going for a one to one ratio is probably more difficult until dosage levels can be fine tuned.

"I couldn’t possibly predict all the effects that would have, but that's exactly why I brought this to you. Aside from the ponies in this room only a dozen or so are aware I can do this. I assumed you'd probably want to get together some kinda planning committee and figure out all the possible results and implementation strategies and whatnot."

"That's an amazing level of foresight from a foal," Lt. Spear notes. "Are we sure the little one isn't the disguise?"

"Yer welcome ta go ask his dam," Deed answers with a grin.

Celestia responds to Cure’s ideas saying, "I believe your suggestions are worth looking into. I'm hesitant to create a commission to look at options until you've actually developed treatments… but given your capabilities I don't doubt you could do it."

She sighs, looking at the other alicorn in thought. "I will discuss it with my advisors. For now, please do not share this, but if you could begin development?” The princess’s ears and head droop into a slight bow and, with a disheartened look, she tells him, “I am sorry, Cure. It feels as if ‘Don’t say anything’ is my answer for everything today."

"Not a problem, boss. I'm dropping a lot on your withers. I would be really worried if you didn't take time to consider all the ramifications. As far as developing something, I could do that right now. Female sperm are different from male so it's not that hard to, basically, hinder their mobility without impeding the males."

The room is quiet for a moment before Lt. Spear, with a scrunched snout, says, "This… is very bizarre. Discussing this with a foal, even one that looks like an adult…"

"It makes you uncomfortable," Cure nods in understanding. "My sire was the first pony other than myself I used my talent on. The first time my talent crammed a detailed anatomical scan into my brain was a shock," he says over Deed's light chuckle. "The hundredth or so," he shrugs helplessly, "Who cares? There's not a single thing you can imagine that would get more than a moment's surprise from me, I assure you."

Lt. Spear hesitates in thought for a moment, sharing an unsure look with the captain and princess. Celestia slowly nods in agreement, but also points out, "He is using his talent, lieutenant. A greater force than us deemed him prepared for a reason."

She nods in understanding and mumbles out a quick apology for interrupting.

"Anyhow, female sperm are susceptible to protein bindings that should slow their swimming speed. It’s not terribly dissimilar to how my antiviral trees work; they target specific cellular structures.

“This isn’t quite as aggressive; it would only slow them instead of kill them. I mean, I could try both approaches and they can be tested, I suppose. The hindrance approach wouldn’t result in a hundred percent guarantee of a male, obviously, but it should tilt the scales considerably. The only question is what is the best delivery method."

"Hypodermic," Title immediately suggests, getting a snorted laugh from the other mares and looks of horror from the males.

"Damn, babe… what'd I ever do to you?"

"Seriously, Mrs. Search?" Solar asks, leaning further away from the giggling demon.

"I was thinking topically," Cure gruffly suggests, scowling at his mom. "Either as an ointment to use prior or applied internally in the vaginal canal prior to intercourse. Or both," he says, turning back to the others. "Obviously the topical solution would have to penetrate the dermis but the other would probably be best as a dissolvable insert."

Everypony stares in silence for a solid ten count. He looks from one pony to another waiting for some kind of response. "What?" he finally asks.

Celestia wrinkles her snout and looks away, unable to meet Cure's confused face. "Okay, it is a little strange," she slowly admits. "I apologize, Cure. Perhaps you could write up a brief and provide sample medications?"

He lets out a sigh and rolls his eyes. "Sure, boss. I'll work on it… Saturday, I guess? I don't think I'll have time tomorrow and I'm still a little tired from everything. That’s not a good project to start on when yer tired."

"Please," she agrees. She slowly looks back up to meet his eyes, frowning. "I am sorry. It is nothing you did wrong, but… Lt. Spear has a point, as you observed."

"It's the talkin 'bout applyin it, champ."

Everypony quickly agrees with the dark stallion, including his mom who explains, "It's really weird hearing that from a foal."

"Eh, no biggie," he says. "I get it, really. Do you have any idea what's going on with the stallions that are only producing female sperm, though? Does that ring a bell?"

"No, it does not. It is entirely likely that many stallions have been diagnosed with such a condition over the years, but that nopony has come to the realization it may be a widespread issue. Many others, I'm sure, have never been diagnosed and simply assumed they were siring only fillies by chance alone. I will be discussing that with the director of the Canterlot RHA and the national director at our next meeting, though. I will be in contact regarding that before the end of May."

"Sounds good. I really don't want to have to go do a nationwide tour adjusting everypony's balls, but I don't think I can fix that problem without direct application of my talent."

Title bursts out laughing and Celestia blushes lightly with widening eyes. Solar gives the colt a deadpan look and Deed mumbles, "phrasing." The two officers are both biting their lips and shaking slightly.

"Err… to be clear, by 'direct application' I don't mean physical contact with their balls specifically. I could just hold a hoof or do it from range," he insists, waving said thus-far-virginal hoof and looking up cross-eyed towards his horn.

"I think we all came to that conclusion," Celestia says, trying not to laugh.

"Yeah, you say that, but I see ya sittin there, barely holding back a chuckle at the poor phrasing.” Tapping the table with a hoof to emphasize his point, he adds, “I ain't touchin nopony's nuts, just so we're all on the same page."

"I am making an official note right here," she says, materializing another piece of paper and writing with her quill in big letters, then holds it up in her magic as she reads aloud. "Cure Wave doesn't touch nopony’s nuts,” she says with a smirk. She vanishes the paper with her horn and explains, “That will go in the official archives for all eternity."

"Good.” He gains a thoughtful look, furrowing his brows. “Wait. That was a double negative, wasn’t it?"

"I'm pretty sure it doesn't matter," she assures him. Title is half laying on the table, covering her face with a foreleg and laughing her plot off. The others aren't doing much better. “Was there another topic you wished to address?” she asks, still holding back a chuckle.

He hesitates a moment, narrowing his eyes before he continues. "The next agenda item I have is aging related. As you can imagine I seek my parents' input on several topics."

"A wise decision. One I wish more foals would make."

"Nopony can see all angles," he agrees. "That said, in regards to development of a way to reverse aging," Cure's timing is spot on, delivering the line just as the captain is taking a sip of her drink.

The spit-take is textbook perfect, blasting a cloud of tea at Solar. Celestia is quick on the draw and erects a shield in front of herself and her papers, shaking in mirth while looking at the drenched corporal to her left. Cure had seen it coming, so he put one in front of his parents as well.

"I am so sorry!" the captain shouts. Turning to point an accusing hoof at Cure she yells, "You did that on purpose!”

Cure gives her a completely innocent look, while his mom and the princess both laugh at Solar's expense. "How could I possibly have done that?!” In a patronizing tone he adds, “I can't read minds, captain."

The young stallion casts Cleaning a couple times, removing the tea and saliva and leaving behind only water. A quick Warming cantrip will evaporate that fast enough, so Cure continues despite the brief interruption, paying no mind to the scowl sent his way.

"Anywho, as you're aware my goal is to develop a method of reversing aging with no negative side effects, but as everypony knows…" he waves around the table.

His sire is the first to speak up. "Ain't no such thing as perfect, son."

Placing a hoof on his chest, the colt agrees. "Your's truly excepted, exactly right, pa."

"Humble indeed," the princess notes.

"The very humblest! Anyhow, my mom made a good point that deaging a pony could result in memories being lost depending on how the brain actually stores and retrieves them. For all I can see with my talent, it’s not like I have the ability to read a pony’s mind. I’m confident I can safely deage a pony, again, with a direct application of my talent, -"

"Without touching anypony's balls," Title adds, earning a scowl from the colt who carries on despite her.

"- but I certainly cannot go around saving everypony that way, so the concern is that I could, in a way, essentially 'murder' even if not physically, a pony. Or somehow the treatment could be overly effective.

"Obviously that would be awful if somepony ended up being twelve instead of twenty five, but if somepony could give me an official ruling on what the legal results would be so I can cover my rear with my attorneys that would be very helpful."

"So the eight year old colt in the adult body is worried about accidentally putting an adult in a foal's body?" Lt. Spear asks, brows raised in amusement.

Shrugging, Cure points out, "We have a word for that for a reason."

“That’s it, isn’t it?” the captain interrupts, staring at Cure curiously. “That’s why you don’t act like a foal, isn’t it?” The room goes quiet at the accusation.

“Pardon?” he asks.

“You deaged yourself, didn’t you? You’re not really a foal at all!”

Deed and Title start laughing while Cure rolls his eyes at the captain. He notes that Celestia and Solar are both watching curiously to see how he responds.

“Got any way to detect lies, princess? Some kinda spell or something?”

Celestia wrinkles her snout in distaste and slowly admits, “No spell I am willing to use. That would require some kind of mental compulsion, which I am quite opposed to. Given your cautious predisposition I suspect you would be as well. No, as convenient as that would be, there is no simple way to separate truths from untruths."

"Figures," he huffs. "I dunno what to tell you, captain. The whole deaging thing was actually started by a retired magic teacher that approached me. She recognized the work of a biomanipulator and asked me to make it so she could enjoy her retirement as much as possible before her time comes."

"You successfully deaged her?" Celestia asks.

"I don't have the magic capacity to do that to a pony. I fixed her up real good and realized it was a service I could offer to others. "I'll tell ya what, captain. Here's the best assurance I can offer."

Cure fully faces the princess. With all the seriousness he can convey he looks directly into Celestia's eyes. “I am Cure Wave, son of Spreading Vines and Clean Deed, born an earth pony on June twentieth of the year nine hundred AB in the town of Golden Hills, just west of Baltimare. I am eight years old; turning nine in a little over a month and a half.

"I have not intentionally taken any action to slow or reverse my own age, nor have I done anything with my talent that would somehow improve or increase my own intelligence. I am mature beyond my years due to events surrounding my gaining of a cutie mark. And I would never lie to you."

He turns to face the captain and stoically asks, “Are we good to move on now?”

“I’m not sure…” she hesitates, thinking. “You’ve shown to be very capable when it comes to bending the truth.”

She looks left up to the princess. Celestia nods to her captain and says, "I believe every word he said. Cure has been thoroughly vetted, as you are aware."

Nodding in acceptance, Cpt. Shield turns back to the colt. “Apologies. Part of the job is being suspicious, after all.”

"I'm not offended, captain," he insists, lightly shrugging. "You're hardly the first to doubt me, and I'm sure you won't be the last." He lets out a deep sigh, stretching his wings back and rolls his neck before looking around the table. "So… back to the topic at hoof?” he asks the room.

"Right, the deaging treatment," Celestia agrees. "I suppose if somepony were undergoing an age reversal treatment, especially during the testing phase, they would be doing so with the understanding that it is experimental." She continues, "If the result is a foal, both physically and mentally, then we would need to develop some process to ensure their well-being.

"Especially since, presumably, parents are not available. At least not for the first generation of testers. Hopefully that wouldn't happen and, if it were to, adult children would be available to assist."

"Huh… hadn't even thought about adult children being an option," Cure mumbles. He glances at his parents and they both give a quick head shake to indicate they hadn't either.

"In the case of the adult in a foal's body, the most logical path would be to continue treating them as an adult until you become available to revert or correct the change. Either way, the earliest volunteers for testing will no doubt sign documents exempting you from liability yourself.

"In all likelihood they are nearing the end of their natural lifespan regardless. Of course, that doesn’t mean we would be less careful, but accidentally becoming twelve instead of the ideal twenty or so, while inconvenient, is far from the worst result.

"Similarly, even if they were to end up completely memory-less, as unfortunate a result as that may be, I cannot imagine you should be held responsible as long as proper testing procedures are being observed, the same as if something were to go wrong with your anti-viral trees.”

Cure releases a sigh, making a show of being relieved. “I appreciate you sharing your view on it, princess. I’m glad to hear that my thoughts on the matter align with yours. I can say that I have theorized on how it can be achieved, but stringent containment procedures are a must. When I have something concrete I’ll be sure to let you know right away.”

“And I look forward to hearing from you,” she assures him with a smile.

“Great!” he declares, “But in the meantime that’s another thing it may be wise to start planning for. It is, after all, quite possibly the biggest thing since you founded the country. I certainly can’t imagine how many aspects of society will be impacted by that alone, never mind everything else.”

“Is your intent to profit off of it?” Celestia asks, immediately holding a hoof up to delay his response. “I apologize if that sounded accusatory, I simply need to know if that is something I should plan for.”

“No. Absolutely not. Aging is a disease, princess. I, as a rule, don’t charge to cure anypony.”

Solar gives him a confused look. “Not to argue, dude, but I thought that’s how you made most of your money.”

“Sort of. I realize that I'm splitting hairs here, but what I’m doing right now is by any measure a cosmetic procedure. I have accepted that once I develop a comprehensive deaging treatment I’ll be making my main income source redundant.

"Hopefully by then I’ll have other income streams developed, but I’ll not hold back a legitimate cure just to make more money. I never planned on spending my whole life, however long that may be, making ponies just look younger or giving mares nice, round, thick rears either way.”

The captain and liuetenant both give him questioning looks, so he explains, “That’s one of the most popular procedures I offer. At least four mares make appointments to get that done each week. And I’m only seeing ten to fifteen ponies… sometimes maybe twenty per week right now.”

“How much is it?” the captain blurts out. When all eyes focus on her she shrinks slightly, defending her request. “I’m just curious!” At the continued stares she adds, “I’m asking for a friend. Really!”

Cure, holding back a snicker, points to the paper in front of the princess and waves to himself. Understanding his request, her horn flashes and a new sheet, along with a quill and inkpot, materialize in front of him. “Thanks. I swear… you’d think you could afford a nice fountain pen,” he grumbles while lifting the quill and writing out a few lines on the paper. He signs it and slides it to the captain.

“There’s a quote and coupon for half off for ‘your friend’ next time you see her,” he says, pantomiming exaggerated air quotes. Cpt. Shield looks between Cure and the coupon a couple times, slightly hesitant. With a roll of his eyes he assures her, “Captain, I would never do anything to a patient without their consent. Don’t forget; I didn’t harm any of the creatures trying to foalnap me beyond what was necessary to subdue them, little as that was.”

With a cough and a quiet “sorry, thanks” the captain folds the sheet and stuffs it in her armor.

“Anyhow,” Cure loudly announces, getting everypony’s attention, “Was there anything else, ma? Pa?”

“Teaching,” his mom reminds him.

“Ah. I think that may be a private conversation topic.” He looks at the two officers and adds, “No offense.” A look of realization flashes across his face. “Duh! I forgot the twins thing!”

Deed and Title both facehoof when they realize he didn’t mention that yet.

“Twins thing?” Celestia asks, looking slightly worried. “I’m assuming you can cause mares to produce more than one foal at a time?”

Cure can only assume she is concerned he is messing with embryos or fertilized eggs; an act that he’s leery of attempting due to a few reasons. Specifically, he is unsure what the metaphysical effect would be, if anything. Also, messing with a developing embryo strikes him as morally questionable at best and he doesn’t want to be making those decisions if he can avoid it.

The ad-hoc creation of sapient life feels like a line he’s not in any particular hurry to cross for some reason, too. Not due to any “compulsion” exactly, just a nagging worry about what impact that would have on society. He’d joked with Dawn once about a field of super soldier ponies being grown like plants and, afterwards, realized he could probably do it pretty easily. The thought is upsetting enough he vowed to never even suggest it jokingly again.

“Nothing bad,” he insists, seeing the concern. “Mares typically only produce a single viable egg during estrus. I can cause their body to release a second, though, so they can end up with fraternal twins. That’ll probably be one of the more challenging issues to address because obviously if the treatment is too effective it can result in too many viable eggs at once.”

Both the captain and lieutenant wince in realization. Lt. Spear hesitantly asks, “How many foals can a mare safely carry anyhow? The most I've ever seen was a set of triplets.”

“Safely under normal circumstances and without complications? I wouldn’t be completely shocked if four or, for an earth pony, five were possible, maybe. I wouldn’t recommend it, though. Three is the max I would suggest and even that can be risky.

“Besides, forcing twins may not be a big issue in the grand scheme of things. Twins would normally only be desirable in certain situations, but if we can control gender ratios and aging isn’t a huge factor then I don’t think that urgent need would normally exist.”

“Your dam?” Celestia asks, perking up in excitement.

“I… don’t generally discuss ponies’ medical info without their permission,” he answers, looking to his parents for guidance. Both Deed and Title nod their approval so he hesitantly relents. The princess already knows Vines is pregnant with twins, so it’s not like verifying he played a part takes any kind of great deduction. The fact he even looked to his parents for permission is telling enough either way, he realizes.

“Yes. Back in September I ensured she had a second egg. She’s carrying a colt and a filly as a result, though the genders are all on him,” he says, waving a hoof at his sire. “I didn’t have anything to do with that.”

“Well,” Title starts with a smirk. She gives Deed an appraising up-down look with a hunger in her eyes. The move makes Solar visibly uncomfortable and causes Deed’s ears to darken again.

“Mom, really?” Cure whines.

“Oh hush, ya big baby. Bigger than normal baby.”

Cure lets out an exasperated sigh but still carries on. “Anyhow, dam’s due next month if it wasn’t painfully obvious from her bump.” Celestia knows that but he isn't sure if the other two have been told.

“I’ll look forward to the good news,” Celestia answers smiling broadly. After a moment of thought she makes a suggestion. "This year's Summer Sun Celebration will be here in Canterlot. It promises to be a very special one, being in the capital and all. I would be delighted if you and your family could attend as my guests.

"Dr. Crystal Dawn would certainly be thrilled to team with you again if you all would like to arrive a few days early," she says to Cure, then turns back to the parents, "and I'll ensure everything is prepared for everypony, especially Mrs. Vines and the foals. Hotels are likely already booked, so you are quite welcome to stay here."

Cure is ecstatic at the prospect of helping here in Canterlot, but that means he won't be in Baltimare until the end of the birthing season there. Canterlot is about a third again as populated, but it's also predominantly unicorns who, typically, have lower birth rates, especially during the summer birthing period.

He also considers that earth ponies have the easiest births on average, so he would likely be more valuable in Canterlot. Also, once the celebration is over and Vines has had the twins there's no reason he couldn't fly to Baltimare to lend a hoof unless she's late and doesn't want to be induced.

After all of those thoughts race through his mind one stops everything else. His dam will, once again, be nearby and about to give birth when the princess is raising the sun. Is that a bad thing? Does it matter at all? He’ll have to talk to his parents, but even if they wanted to decline, it’s such a generous offer he can’t see a way to tactfully do so.

The only thing that comes to mind immediately is if Vines were to say something like she wants to have the twins at home, but that's a weak excuse. Not wanting to travel with a human baby is pretty reasonable; foals, especially with magic available, are far, far easier to travel with, even if there will be two of them. Alternatively, if they want to sidestep the issue he could induce her prior to the princess’s big event.

Despite the mental turmoil he doesn’t let the temptation to say no show on his suit's face.

Both parents are completely blown away at the offer. Being the princess's guests at the Summer Sun Celebration is a huge honor; something they would have never dreamed possible. That she's inviting them to attend in the capital is just icing on the cake.

"That is an extremely generous offer, your highness!" Title can barely get out. "We would have to talk to the others to be sure, but I can't imagine they would be anything but thrilled to accept. Are you sure, though? That's an incredible honor… I would think somepony else would… I dunno… be more deserving?" she says, searching for exactly what she's feeling. Deed nods in agreement, unsure what he can add to his wife's statement.

"Don’t be ridiculous!” she insists with a roll of her eyes. Waving a hoof dismissively she adds, “Royal privilege. I can invite whomever I choose to my event! Just let me know when you and your wives decide."

"We will! We'll talk it over tonight," Title assures her.

"I'm down," Cure agrees, "assuming my parents are okay with it. I had made an offhoof comment about doing just that back in January. I kinda forgot to be honest." He tilts his head in thought and, with a scrunched snout, adds, "I wasn't sure how to ask if I could come crash here for a couple days without sounding tacky, too."

"Family Planning would normally provide lodging to traveling help," Lt. Spear explains. "Given your age, though…” she trails off, unsure exactly what the normal policy would be.

“Foals your age typically do not travel if they are helping at all,” the princess fills in. “That is a program normally offered to adults, but I believe we can get away with bending the rules this once, not that you will be signed up via the normal procedures. Castle staff shall see to your modified enrollment if your parents permit it.

“And Cure, please do not hesitate to speak up if you would like to come visit for any reason. You are quite welcome here, I assure you. This castle has many guest rooms and I am always delighted to have visitors.”

“I reckon that’s alright, highness,” Deed quickly agrees. “As long as we’re nearby ta make sure he ain’t overworkin himself again.”

The princess winces for a second, then meets each parents’ and Cure’s eyes. “I apologize for my role in your exhaustion after my visit. I had not anticipated you would work quite so long of a day. Though reaching out to the other expecting dams in town was a brilliant idea it was not a move I had predicted.” Cure waves the issue away while the parents nod in understanding.

She looks to Deed and assures him, “You will be present. In fact, with Cure’s capabilities I anticipate we will be able to assign slots and induce willing mares in a much more organized fashion than has ever been possible. Another item to discuss with Family Planning, I suppose, if you are coming.”

Everypony pauses to think through the conversation, looking back mentally to see if there’s anything they needed to address that has not yet been or if additional information would be helpful anywhere. Cure casts a Warming cantrip on his and his parents’ cups, then raises a questioning brow to Lt. Spear. When she nods he warms her tea as well, then he takes a sip, reaching for a cookie.

The princess and captain both watch as he eats and drinks, then share a look before the latter turns to regard the colt. “So does that thing have its own stomach?” she asks.

“I must admit,” Celestia begins, “I am curious about your suit as well.”

Cure swallows the rest of the cookie and projects an Illusion showing the suit. He gives a brief summary while everypony snacks, collects their thoughts, and finishes the remaining treats. Several details of the design are left out; specifically the defensive and offensive capabilities and non-pony characteristics like the retractable hoof claws and second set of teeth.

The version he is wearing lacks all of that anyhow since he was pretty confident he wouldn’t need it for the demonstration.

"And you thought somepony may actually be willing to climb in that thing?!" The captain shouts in disbelief. "How are you okay with being crammed in there?"

"Umm… 'Cause I'm safer in here than anywhere on the planet?" Cure condescendingly answers. "You don't panic when you put your armor on, I hope."

Lt. Spear jumps in to argue, "Yeah but our armor isn't fully enclosed and crammed down our throats!"

"The idea discomforts me as well, Cure," Celestia confesses. "I can only assume you having the level of control you do is what prevents a claustrophobic feeling from setting in."

“Probably. And I can see and feel through it just like my own body.”

"I've said it's weird all along," his mom agrees. "You shoulda seen when he was making it the first time. It started as a huge freaking wolf. With wings and a horn."

When everypony looks at him like he's crazy he reminds her, "Yeah and as soon as I saw it I immediately changed it to a pony. There aren't huge, sapient wolves out there, are there?"

"No," the princess answers, "not a race of them that I have ever encountered. Certainly not flying, magic using ones. There are some very intelligent typical wolves, but that is all. The closest are a bipedal race of subterranean canines, but the majority of them are, to be blunt, not very smart."

"I haven't met one yet. I don't suppose they have an embassy here and need my services by any chance?"

"Diamond Dogs? An embassy?" Cpt. Shield scoffs at the notion before explaining, "I don't think they even have a government. There's a pack that roams around to the west of us but they disappear into the ground anytime a pony gets close."

"Are they dangerous?" Solar asks. "I've never seen one either and they were barely mentioned in Basic."

"Not usually," Lt. Spear answers. "They're really strong, but they prefer to run instead of fight. They've been run out of a few towns when they snuck in and stole a few things. They're completely obsessed with shiny stuff. Don't ask me what they do with it though."

"Pardon me," Celestia calls, "but we will have to adjourn shortly. I have my duty to attend to, and it has been a very long day for all of you. Captain, lieutenant… Thank you for your hard work today." She pauses for a moment while everypony else expresses their gratitude as well. "Cure, I also wish to say that I appreciate the way you treated those who came to harm you.

"Given your talent, I can only imagine the wide range of maladies you could have inflicted upon them. That you stayed your hoof shows integrity and character well beyond what I would expect from a foal, or even most adults. That they escaped with only a few receiving a temporary, and accurate, label is a mercy they will likely never appreciate."

Softly, in a shy tone, Cure looks away and admits, "I didn't want to disappoint you."

She only smiles in response. Looking around the table she asks, "Are there any other urgent issues anypony needs addressed immediately?"

"If I could just have a second in private before you go?" Cure requests.

She nods in acceptance and looks at the others. The lieutenant volunteers to escort them back to their rooms once ready. The group files out into the hallway. Lt. Spear pushes the long abandoned service cart out for the staff to take, leaving the two alicorns behind. Once the door shuts Celestia regards Cure with a curious expression.

He steps to the side of the table and sits on his haunches facing her. "It occurred to me that it's probably been a long time since anypony has been capable of doing this, if ever," he explains. He lightens himself, grabbing the floor with his rear and hind legs for leverage and spreads his wings and forelegs wide invitingly.

Celestia stares in shock for only a second, then laughs fondly. "You wanted a hug?" she asks between giggles.

"Close. I wanted to give you a big, warm, enveloping hug. One that everypony should get every so often. Dragons don't strike me as huggers and nopony else is big enough, so…" he trails off, shrugging his wings while still holding his forelegs wide.

The answer brightens her smile. She steps around the table and approaches slightly to his left side. Once she's nearly chest to chest he slowly wraps his forelegs and wings over her withers, careful not to hit a sensitive wing joint with his hooves, and softly squeezes her in a caring embrace.

Celestia can't help but breathe out a comfortable sigh. The colt is right; it has been many, many years since she was on the receiving end of a hug. Aside from when she uses an alias and is shrunken down, she has not, for nearly a millennium, had the opportunity to be hugged like she is now, wings and all. As she lays her chin across the back of his neck, nuzzling into his mane, she can’t help but remark, “You are dangerous, you know that?”

“Dangerously adorable?” he asks.

She nods into his mane. “Quite possibly the most dangerous dangerous of all.”

At her shift he releases her from the hug. “Thanks, boss. I guess I better get outta this now. Should I take my plants with me or…?”

“No need. I am taking the trees with me. I’ll have somepony bring your plants back to the room and water them. Assuming they need it, that is.”

“Sure. They are mostly normal plants, after all. Water, sun, and soil and whatnot. Maybe a soft lullaby before bed or some warm honey milk and a little light rocking if they have a bad dream.”

“What?” she asks, cocking her head to the side confused.

“I’m teasing, princess," he answers with a light smile. "At some point I’d like to talk about the whole teaching offer thing you mentioned. I know you have to go now, but will we have a chance to chat again before we leave?”

“Certainly! I do get weekends too, Cure. Even if you were here during the week I would be seeing you at meals when our schedules align. I had planned on spending much of Saturday with you.”

Cure can't hold back the ear-splitting grin from the news, and doesn't hesitate to let the princess see his true reaction on the suit's face. “Awesome! Goodnight, princess!”

“And a good night to you as well, Cure Wave,” she replies as she turns to leave the room, carrying the trees and seeds in her aura.

Cure doesn’t waste any time. He walks to the plants, detaches his nervous system from the suit as he slides out the stomach, then removes the tracheal and esophageal tubes as he changes the shrubs back, refilling the, now, ten available pots. He regrows his coat and wings, assuming his alicorn appearance and trots out the door to find everypony but the captain waiting.

“Ready, sport?”

“Yup.” The group starts walking with Lt. Spear leading the way. Cure canters to keep up with the adults until he gives up, hops and gives a flap to land on his sire’s withers. “Boss lady said somepony would take the plants up. I wonder what the rest of the gang’s up to."

"They're probably on their way back to the rooms," Solar says. "The princess said she's lowering the sun in a few minutes, so I bet they'll be there waiting for us."

“Yeah, probably. I gotta admit, I’m lookin forward to a full night’s sleep. Hopefully at least nopony in the castle is gonna try to off me.” He gains a thoughtful look, trying to come up with any reason anypony would bother now that his trees have been officially delivered.

“I know that look,” Solar says. “Nopony is going to attack you, Cure. I’m sure her highness has trusted guards that will be keeping an eye on our rooms.”

“She does,” the lieutenant assures them. “A squad of elite royal guards, in fact. Rest assured, colt, there’s not a creature on the planet that could get past the castle’s defenses, and especially not near your rooms. Not without rousing the entire garrison, that is. You’re in the safest place in the world, Cure.”

“Alright…” he hesitantly agrees. “But if somepony does come and shank me in the night I’m gonna haunt you extra hard, got it? And I can be REALLY annoying.”

All three adults nod, voicing their agreement at the same time.

“I’ll… uhh… take that under advisement,” she mumbles over her withers.

Lt. Spear wasn't exaggerating. There really are half a dozen guards lining the walls of the hall everypony is staying in. Two bats, a unicorn, two earth ponies, and a pegasus stand at attention when the lieutenant approaches. Though they're professional about it, Cure notices them stealing glances his way as they give a status report.

Apparently the group before him is only about a quarter of the guard detail specifically assigned to them. His parents and the plants are in interior rooms, but a squad of bats is keeping an eye on the exterior and another two are patrolling. That doesn't even include the dozens of guards assigned to the normal roster for the palace.

Despite their assurance Cure just can't find it in himself to trust any of the guards completely. It was a guard, an officer even, that they suspect played a pivotal role in siccing mercenaries on him. It was three mooks dressed as guards that took his fake trees. It all proves that he was right back when he warned his sire before the seminar he attended; he simply cannot afford to trust somepony simply because they're wearing a uniform.

After hopping down from his sire's back he asks them to knock when his plants arrive, fully intending to rig one up to the door, balcony doors, and the windows. He's a little leery of leaving everypony else to fend for themselves, but realistically anypony that assumes his parents are easy prey will be surprised when his sire rips them in half.

Somepony could maybe go after Solar and Starlight, but he doubts they would be considered adequate hostages. There's a level of separation there that means they're probably safer than anypony. Solar, despite his youth, is also a trained guard with the horn upgrade Cure gave him months prior, so he shouldn't be an easy target anyhow.

After speaking with the guards the lieutenant bids everypony goodnight, thanking Cure for the flower seeds as she departs. As Solar enters the foals' room Cure can hear all of the chatter cut out when everypony hears him call out to the group.

They had moved a couch over closer to the balcony for the adults to watch over the foals. Vines is laid half on her right side watching them with Amethyst spooning her and Lemon on the other side.

Starlight and all of his friends are on the balcony watching pegasi and bat guards have impromptu races and little aerial acrobatic competitions. Cherry is sitting atop Ferric and Heavy, being the dutiful big brother he is, has Lotus on his back. Apparently a number of the guards are keyed up over the Wonderbolts season starting back up and are happy to show off their tricks for the foals.

Cure hops up with his dam, planting a big smooch on her chin before flopping across her forelegs. Everypony still watching the show but he can see each of them have their ears perked and are listening for an update.

"So, how was the garden?" Title asks. Cure levitates the other couch closer so she and his sire can join in. She shoots him a grateful nod and looks over at Starlight. She's apparently content giving Savvy a pony ride. Cure is surprised she's still awake, but assumes they kept her up so Title can feed her before bed. Vines could too, but Savvy does much better with her dam. He’s proven right when Starlight sets her down and the filly beelines for the pink mare.

"Absolutely amazing!" Vines gushes. "Everything is still coming into bloom, but there’s whole trellises with flowers depicting famous moments in history like a painting, beautiful fountains, and statues of historical figures! It was one of the most amazing things I’ve ever seen!” Sighing contently, she lays her head across his back, nosing at his left wing.

Lemon and Amethyst both nod along, the yellow mare adding, “The maze itself was pretty neat. Your friends had a lot of fun searching every nook ‘n cranny in there. The staff were smart enough to hide some of the prizes in the plants and stuff so the pegasi couldn’t just spot ‘em all instantly.”

“Prizes?” he asks.

“Mmhmm,” she hums, nodding. “They hid envelopes all over. Most of them had vouchers for memorabilia they’re selling at the show tomorrow, but some were also for toy stores back in Baltimare. They musta planned ahead to have those here already.”

“The boss lady does strike me as a planner,” he says in agreement. “Did you keep away from…” he trails off.

All three parents subtly nod their heads in answer. “It was in a different part of the garden. None of us went anywhere near it,” Lemon answers.

“How’d it go, babe?” Amethyst asks her husband. “Don’t keep us all waitin.”

Nearly vibrating in excitement, Title gushes out, "She invited us to the Summer Sun Celebration here as her guests!"

Vines sits up straight and gasps so hard Cure feels his wings lift slightly. She’s not the only one struck speechless; Lemon and Amethyst are doing the wide-eyed saucer stare as well.

“You’re not going to be in Golden Hills for the party?” Dawn asks as she leads the herd back in the room.

The parents are chatting animatedly, so Cure hops down, joins the group, and gives her a nuzzle. “Dunno, I’d considered coming to Canterlot to help with the births after last time. Being too young and all I figured it would hafta wait a few years though. You remember what I said about the last time, right?”

Nodding, she looks over her shoulder at the other foals and explains, “Helping other ponies also helps his magic grow.”

“He said something like that when we were teaching him how to fly,” Glacial voices with a nod. “Do you think we’d be allowed to come too?”

“I… can ask, I guess? Would you even wanna be away from your families? I mean, you know I’ll be working during the day and, probably, exhausted at night, so… y’all will be able to do stuff, but I will probably be busy or sleepy,” he warns with a wince.

“That’s kinda a big downside for anypony in a health field,” he begrudgingly admits. “Ponies don’t only get sick from eight to five, Monday through Friday. It’s one of the reasons I’m working on making cures for stuff instead of individually healing…” he drifts off with furrowed brows, pausing in thought.

“What’s wrong?” Rising asks, stepping forwards and nosing at his mane. “Did you just think of something?”

He turns his head, resting his chin on her withers and nods into her. “It hadn’t occurred to me… the whole name thing. I guess I’m living up to mine too.”

“You know that’s not always a thing, right?” Dawn asks. “My sire’s doesn’t have anything to do with being a medic. Your mom, too,” she nods towards Amethyst.

“Yeah, I know. My lawyer’s name was Moon Rose. I should probably go there and make an appointment tomorrow… it may be a good idea to have them on retainer with the craziness I get into.”

“Why?” Drift asks. “You have the princess on your side. Nopony could do anything to you.”

“She doesn’t make all the laws, Crosswind,” Glacial reminds her. “She also could be accused of being biased.” She looks at Cure and asks, “How much does it cost to have them working for you?”

A knock at the door draws Cure’s attention as he answers the filly. Deed opens the door and exchanges a couple words with a guard before retaking his place with his wives.

“Well… the way the retainer works with their offices is you pay the fee, which is only three hundred bits a year, then if something comes up where you need their representation you know you already have them ready to go. Attorneys are kinda like plumbers, ya know? You hope you never need ‘em, but it’s really helpful to know one when something goes wrong.”

The looks on their faces tells him they don’t really get what he means, so he gives an example. “Your sire has to arrest ponies every so often, right?” he asks Drift. When she nods he continues, “If a pony’s sittin in jail they can’t exactly go out and find an attorney they like, but if they already have one on retainer, well…” he waves leadingly.

Rising nods and finishes, “Then somepony they’ve picked is already working for them as soon as they get word and they can get started helping sooner. But I thought attorneys were expensive. Three hundred is a lot of money, but…”

“Oh they charge more as the need arises. The three hundred is just to get them started, and it’s an annual fee. If I needed them for a big long trial or whatever the retainer would probably be used up in the first week or so, depending on what all they had to do. Trust me, they don’t keep working without pay. And Sweet Celestia, do they track everything they use for your case. Every paperclip, stamp, piece of paper… ugh. Bottom line? They get paid, I assure you that.”

“Maybe you should offer your services instead of paying them bits,” Ferric softly suggests. “Master Angle said anything your family needs is on the house. He was… really excited with the tricks you showed me. And the healing.”

“Aww… did you get another hug?” he teases. The blush and glance away is all the answer he needs. “Congrats, Red!” he calls, further darkening the shy filly. Cure feels a yawn coming and, rather than fight it, lets it out. He looks to his sire and asks, “Are my trees here?”

“Yup, just brought ‘em up. They’re next door. Gonna do somethin weird with em?”

“Yeah, I’m going to put one on each entrance as an alarm. I would like to think the lieutenant was right, but I would also like to be able to sleep through the night.”

“There’s like… thirty guards watching just our rooms, Cure,” Solar argues. “And they’re not just some random squad. These are trusted elite guards. We’re perfectly safe.”

“Okay,” he agrees noncommittally. Solar picks up on his tone, but rather than argue just rolls his eyes at the paranoid colt.

“I’m gonna go get a few of them and get ready for bed. Y’all don’t have to go to sleep too, but I’m friggin exhausted.”

“We’re going to bed too,” Solar calls as he and Starlight head for the door. It isn’t difficult to pick up on the extra pep in her step, and Cure can’t help but notice Solar’s gaze tracking her as she leads him out. He must have felt Cure's stare because he looks back over his withers as they approach the door.

Cure gives him a big, beaming smile and mouths "Good luck" to the confused stallion. His only response is another eye roll and a quicker pace, completely unaware of the wild ride he's in for. With the Vagina Mk. II ready for deployment Cure bets the lucky fool is in for a night neither he nor his junk will soon forget.

“We’ll letchya get some sleep, son,” Deed says, scooping Cure up into a hug. Vines, Title, Lemon, and Amethyst all take a turn giving him and the girls goodnight kisses before they make their way out too.

Deed sets the colt down and as the two walk out into the hallway, calls back saying, “Wind, you an’ Ferric are in charge. Make sure they behave!” The rest of the foals squawk in fake outrage as the door closes. “Don’t do anything too crazy, champ. I don’t want ta hafta explain a bunch of incapacitated guards to the princess in the mornin, feel me?”

“Sure thing, pa. Goodnight. Love you,” he says, nuzzling his sire’s chest. Deed leans down and smooches his forehead in front of his horn, then turns to trot in the room with his wives, eager to see how much excitement he can work out of them over the Sun Celebration invite.

Cure gets three of his plants and, on the way back to his room, waves down one of the guards. He very firmly encourages them not to come in the room with the foals without knocking and getting permission to enter first. The bat pony corporal has either been warned about the colt or is wary of pissing off an alicorn, even a young one, so she readily agrees to tell the others not to just burst in unannounced.

Several minutes later the entrances are all secured with paralytic, soporific dart plants on guard duty. Everypony else is exhausted from the day’s excitement too, so little conversation is had as they all get ready and pile into the bed together.

Cure makes sure his sisters brush their teeth and coats clean, then hops up on the bed lifting his wings invitingly. The little fillies are quick to claim his sides with the others filing in and making a pile of soft bodies around and on top of him. With a flash of her horn Dawn turns off the lights and, in only a few moments the dozen foals are fast asleep.

Author's Note

Whew, okay. That's the biggest chapter so far by what... a little under 30%?

62 is done. I just finished 63 literally 15 minutes ago. Just a few updates - most of which are less than optimal news. First, these chapters have been EXTREMELY time-consuming, as I'm sure everyone who has tried to write a long story can understand.

That's due to, of course, trying to make everything logical and reasonable. Again, that "keep it real" approach means it's more difficult. We will not often see, in this story, I hope, a character that behaves in such a stupid freaking way that you have to wonder how they haven't accidentally drowned while looking up at a showerhead. Setting up such foes for the protag to easily thwart can be entertaining, but not only is it an overused approach, it's also not normal IRL. Also, the main point is that it means it takes more time to develop the "who, why, where, when, what, and how" of what is going on.

Combined with news piece number two - which is that I have upcoming summer travel plans - I want to warn everyone well in advance that there's the distinct possibility that there will be weeks where I am unable to get a chapter posted. I was, at one point, staying 3-4 chapters out. I'm barely 2 now and it definitely causes that antsy feeling I don't care for. The easy approach is to simply split chapters up and give them to you in smaller chunks, but I think I said at one point that I don't like cliffhangers and would much rather avoid that whenever possible. That's exactly why, as my last comment said, I try to fit a whole day into a chapter and a whole chapter into one day.

That will not happen with Saturday (Chapters 63 and 64) just because so much is happening. Cure is, after all, far FAR outside of his normal routine right now and that will continue until Sunday, which I probably won't do a chapter for.

Several questions will no doubt come up such as "Why isn't he getting some kind of award" or something. Keep in mind - Almost everything he has set up thus far is still in its testing phase. He has healed a lot of ponies so far, and he did help immensely with the births, but that doesn't really compare to some doctor that's been working at a hospital for a few years and has traveled for two months each year to help thousands of dams give birth all across the nation.

We have to keep things somewhat in perspective.

Also, I am sure many folks will nearly fall out of their chairs at the population number in there. Here's how I came up with three million - I took every single major city I could identify in Equestria which, even after looking at several different maps of the world, came out to somewhere in the low twenties. In the Hearts & Hooves chapter he pointed out that the populations of the cities he's aware of have about 1/10th what the human counterpart does. I also added in a few cities that there's not a human equivalent for (i.e. Cloudsdale) and logic'ed as best I could approximately how large they should be. That came out to somewhere around 1.8 million souls. From there I used the US estimate that 56% of people live in an urban / suburban area (which for the US would be a much larger area because cars & public transit, granted) and so I basically added another 40% on and rounded up.

Is that a good approach? No, it's probably awful and I'm sure someone will lose their mind over the low number. I did some googling and the highest numbers I found people spouting for Equestria 90 years in the future is somewhere around 20 to 25 million. Well... guess what the impacts from Cure's ideas could do to a country over 4 generations? I didn't invest the time needed to come up with solid numbers, but with a mortality rate that is nearly zero, well... I guess it could happen?

I dunno, I spent a TON of time on this chapter, so I'm going to hit the publish button even though I haven't given it the last-minute spelling/grammar check I normally do first. It's long and it would take more time than I have, so enjoy your day-early chapter. There will not be another chapter tomorrow - 62 is slated to hit Monday, 4/17. I'm not sure another will hit 4/24 but I plan to release it right now. Expect, for now, no chapter to come out on either May 15th or 22nd, though.

Hopefully I won't catch COVID this time...

Happy Easter, everyone. And for those not celebrating, Happy Sunday, I guess.

Thanks for reading.

Chapter 62: Pest

Friday, May 1st, 909 AB (The next morning)
Approximately thirty minutes before sunrise.

“Oh princess,” a soft voice calls, rousing Celestia from her slumber. “It’s time to rise and shine, your majesty!”

Without opening her eyes, the eldritch mare checks the time. “Fifteen minutes,” she groggily replies, rolling away from the offending intruder. Odd… her staff know not to wake her until just before it’s time to raise the sun except on special occasions. Cloudsdale is nearby for the season opener, but she doesn’t usually do anything special for that in the morning.

“That’s fine, boss, but once you’re up I think we need to have a talk about security. I hafta say I’m a tad disappointed at the ease with which I got in here.”

Strange, she thinks, that voice sounds very familiar. Wait a second… Boss?

“Cure Wave,” she sighs.

“The one and only!” she… he? Whichever happily chirps. “I know most folks don’t like bein woke up early, so I brought ya breakfast as a bribe and, or peace offering, at least.”

Craning her neck, the princess looks over her withers to find… herself? standing there. At least, sort of. “Good morning, Sunny,” she flatly greets the pegasus. “And there’s another thing I never expected to do… wish myself a good morning.”

“Well, despite what many ponies may tell ya, talkin to yerself is okay, boss. Perfectly healthy, even. It’s when ya start arguing back that ya may need to see somepony,” she rolls her hoof, “professionally, that is.” The colt-in-disguise smiles teasingly at the princess, still perfectly copying the fake voice she uses. “Besides, I told ya last night; assume nothing is impossible. I know you did it at least once, to great success I might add.

“More concerning, though, is that there’s no way with all the magic in the world that I am the only being in existence that could duplicate this appearance.” He waves a hoof at the door, “I literally just walked right past every single guard between here and the kitchen! You really oughta have some kinda passphrase security or something magic or even biometric, at least for the mare who has the full trust and authority of her highness.”

“How did you find your way to the kitchen and then to my room?”

“I asked! I told the ones watchin over us I was gonna put on a disguise and surprise you with breakfast. They thought it was cute till they saw my Reduced ‘Riddle’ disguise come trotting out. That got me some looks, lemme tell ya.

“Everypony I ran into on my way to the kitchens, then on my way here, thought me bringing the boss breakfast in bed was sweet so nopony bothered stoppin me. Once I got close I ducked outta sight and switched to yer Sunny appearance and all I got was some curious looks and a few greeting nods.”

Giving up on any kind of regal appearance because, really, what’s the point, the princess lays her head back down. “Perhaps the Guard has become a little lax. You are correct; there were, at one time, creatures that could mimic ponies’ appearances.” A shudder passes through her at the memory of the horrid things. “I admit, I’m not familiar with the term biometric. As in, measuring biology somehow?”

Cure… or rather, Sunny, walks up closer to the bed and slides the tray off her withers, down a wing, and sets it on the princess’s nightstand. Leaning against the bed with her chest, she folds her forelegs on it behind the princess’s back. “Basically, yes. I could probably make something like a patch you put over a pony’s cutie mark that reads their biology and mark to make sure they match up.”

She pauses and looks down, furrowing her brows and pushing on the mattress before commenting, “Ooh, cushy! Gotta get me one of these puppies.” She snaps out of her reverie and continues, “Err, right… once the pony is registered to the unit it could, that is. I could fake it, of course, but unless somepony can duplicate somepony else’s appearance and biology they wouldn’t fool it. What were they called and how thoroughly could they mimic somepony?”

With a deep sigh she admits, “I do not know exactly. They called themselves changelings, and there’s not been any sign of them for centuries. They invaded a few cities, then after we defeated them they were locked securely away.” Giving up on getting another few minutes of sleep, Celestia rolls over to scowl at the grinning mare-colt. “You know… most ponies that sneak into this room would be in an immense amount of trouble, young colt.”

“Aww, but boss, look at the pretty breakfast!” he whines, pointing a wing at the tray. Celestia looks over, finding a stack of pancakes piled high. To her delight and amusement, pieces of his fruit are cut and arranged to make a smiling face on top with a whipped cream mane. A large carafe of syrup, also with some fruit in it, sits nearby, as does a big, steaming mug of tea.

“I suppose I can find it in my heart to forgive you this one time,” she starts, continuing over his hoof pumping cheer, “but I believe I shall have a conversation with somepony’s parents regarding sneaking into a mare’s chambers uninvited.”

“Jeez, boss, when ya phrase it like that ya make me sound like some kinda weirdo.”

Rolling to her barrel, Celestia floats the tray onto the bed and dumps the syrup over the stack. “Says the colt foal disguised as an adult mare while sneaking into the bedroom of the leader of the nation,” she accuses, raising a single brow in challenge. She cuts and takes a bite, amazed at how well the fruit complements the pancakes.

“Ehh… fair. I guess I’ll hafta bribe you harder next time if I wanna get off scot free. I’ve never given a massage to an alicorn, obviously, but between my friends’ parents and my own I’ve managed to make an adult mare of every other tribe pass out in relaxation. It would be great if I could get the vaunted four-for-four achievement.”

Cure pauses, realizing that he’s intruding on her breakfast and, likely, the only free time she’ll have for the next twelve or so hours. “Eh, think about it. And enjoy your breakfast, highness. Just let me know if yer interested later. I’m gonna go find your L T or Captain Shield and go hunt down my trees. I didn’t mention last night, but I can find the ones from the train whenever,” he casually admits, pushing off the bed and walking away.

In a flash of magic, a far larger Sunny Skies now stands about halfway to the door. “Ah, fudge… I knew I shoulda used the mid-high crystal instead of the mid,” he huffs, looking down at himself. “Oh well, the only ponies up right now are guards anyhow.”

Celestia pauses mid-bite as the colt quickly changes to his muscular “Riddle” appearance he showed her last night and pulls open the door. “Top’a the mornin to ya, ladies!” his deep voice greets with a wave of his wing. He quickly strolls past the guards and down the hall. “Great, now I’m friggin starving,” she hears him grumble as the softening clip-clops of hooves announce his departure.

Celestia releases a sigh and takes another bite, unable to keep from shaking her head at the colt’s antics. A pair of armored heads slowly slide into view around the doorframe and peer into the room. The one on left reaches for the door and, just before latching it, proudly calls out, “Congrats, princess!” before pulling it shut.

“That’s just… great.”

“I swear, colt, I don’t know how ya walk right with balls that big!” Amethyst shouts between laughs. “I’d ‘a paid good money ta see the look on her face when ya walked away!”

As soon as Cure had gotten away from the princess’s room he’d broken into a near sprint to get back to his parents before the other foals started waking up. The guards watching their rooms had placed bets on whether he would pull it off or not, so two of them ended up each forty bits richer thanks to his success. Another universal constant was discovered as well; bored soldiers will gamble on absolutely anything.

Vines shoots a disappointed scowl at her wife, then turns to her son. “You shouldn’t tease the princess, Cure. She’s been very kind to you and doesn’t deserve that.”

“What?” he defensively asks. “Breakfast in bed and the offer of a nice, relaxing massage? That sounds great to me! Would you turn that down? I even tipped her off to a potential security risk!”

Waving a scolding hoof at the smart-mouthed colt, she yells back, “You know darn well that’s not what I mean!”

“Eh, she seems like a good sport,” Title points out, “I bet the thought that he did that on purpose never… well, it may not have crossed her mind. He is awfully young, though. Then again, he’s also way too mature for a foal, and she’s probably aware he’s, well…” she trails off, looking at the colt.

“Adorable?” he hopefully suggests, ears perking up and wings fluffing out.

Making no attempt to sound even slightly genuine, Title nods and agrees, “Yeah. That’s definitely what I was thinking. Adorable.”

Cure preens at her praise despite the blatant sarcasm for a moment before turning back to his dam. “You’re missing the big win here, everypony. We now know, officially, that changelings are a thing. We don’t have to come up with some weird, complicated excuse about how we know about them if we run into one.” Cure shakes his head, dismissing everything else and says, “I need to get back to my room, I’m sure everypony’s waking up. Are y’all comin?”

“We’ll give ya a head start, sport. Go check on yer friends and we’ll meet’cha at breakfast.”

“Alright, pa,” Cure agrees, quickly reaching up to plant a kiss on his dam’s chin before darting out the door and across the hall.

Just as he’s about to open the door he’s engulfed in a familiar deep red aura and rotated to face an exhausted looking stallion. “Cure… what was that?” he hisses, frantically waving his right forehoof back at his open door.

“I haven’t the foggiest, my good friend,” he cheerily replies. “What, exactly, are you referring to?”

“You…” he pauses, flicking his gaze at the watching guards before casting a small Sound Bubble. “You did something to Starlight!”

Holding a hoof to his chest, Cure gives the most sincerely innocent look he can muster. “I assure you, I would never do anything to harm our dear Starlight! Is she okay? Does she need medical attention?”

“I need medical attention!” he shouts, pounding on his chest with his right hoof.

Cure looks at the older colt’s leg. “Knees bothering ya again?”

“No, dammit! You know what’s wrong!”

He leans forward and stares at Solar’s forehead. “Horn acting up?”

“Cure! She almost pulled one of my fuckin nuts out THROUGH my schlong!” Cure barks out a laugh at the distressed unicorn, only upsetting him more. “I think part of my soul got sucked out! It’s not funny! If I didn’t have the earth pony grip on the floor, who knows where I would have ended up!”

“And now yer just bragging, ya lucky bastard.” Solar huffs in annoyance, turning away from the snickering colt. “Are you actually angry? I mean… I’m pretty sure if I offered that upgrade to everypony I would have a few cities named after me before the end of the decade. And there’s only eight months left in it.”

“You coulda warned me,” he accuses.

“Oh, sure,” he vigorously nods. With bright eyes and a cheery expression he chirps out, “Hey, Solar, just an FYI, Starlight’s vagina can squeeze every single milliliter out of a tube of toothpaste. How do I know, you ask? Well, what kinda artist doesn’t recognize his own work, hmm?”

“Dude!”

“Exactly! Now are you actually injured or not?”

“... maybe some strain.”

“Well I ain’t kissin it ta make it better, ya ingrate. She can do that if she wants, but I will do this if you want me to,” he holds out a hoof and raises a questioning brow.

Solar stares at the hoof for a few seconds, then sighs and visibly deflates, lowering the colt to the floor before he reaches out to take the offered appendage. “I’m sorry, Cure. I do appreciate it. I was just caught unprepared.”

“You’re welcome, and if you had been prepared for that then even I would be impressed. Now quit acting like it wasn’t awesome; you’ll upset the poor girl, and from what I can tell she definitely doesn’t deserve that. Give her some fuckin flowers at some point today and stallion up, dude.”

The red colt sags, weakly nodding in acceptance of the criticism. Starlight was amazing even normally; the extra enthusiasm last night was something else.

“There’s no actual injury, by the way; just some muscle strain like ya said. If it would help I can, ya know… upgrade the musculature a smidge. You two can have yerselves a Genital Arms Race or whatever. It’s probably a damn good thing she’s not an earth pony or she mighta yanked the poor feller clean off. Wouldn’t that be a way to go? I can see the coroner looking over the autopsy notes thinkin, ‘So that means she’s single now? Nice!’”

“Stop! Stars, Cure, what the hay?!” The smiling colt innocently shrugs back. “Just… just heal it, please.”

“Sure, but go inside your room and stand on the other side of the door. Running magic through that area tends ta cause a reaction, and you are definitely not my type.”

“Great,” Solar sighs, dispelling the Sound Bubble and returning to his room. It doesn’t register that Cure means he can use his talent through the door. Rather than shutting it, he pulls it mostly shut and sticks a hoof out for the colt to grab. Cure quickly patches the older colt’s strained muscles back and even gives the boys a recovery boost while he’s at it. With a quick “later dude” he peels off, continuing back to the room with the other foals.

While several of them have begun stirring, only the pegasi are up and about. Cure hasn’t been in a pegasus’ bedroom yet, but given how the exteriors light up he figures living in clouds means getting up at the crack of dawn is somewhat of an automatic.

They’re all on the balcony, forehooves up on the ledge and looking excitedly up and to the right. It’s not hard to figure out why; his brain didn’t connect the dots the previous night, but the cloud bank that was near the horizon is much closer, and covers the northwestern sky for kilometers. Cloudsdale has arrived, and it is larger than Cure had expected.

He isn’t sure that there’s a human equivalent to the city like there is for many of the ones in Equestria. There’s the horse breed with a similar name, obviously, that he assumes was a region; likely the one the horses originated from at some point in history, but Ed never cared enough to look into it.

He’d seen the Budweiser Clydesdales one time when he was a teenager. They were impressive, but the main thing he remembers was his mom complaining about the short cut of the horses’ tails.

Ed’s mom placed anyone that harmed animals somewhere on the scale roughly around child predators and financial advisors. It always struck him as odd that Americans seemed, while not exactly okay with people being total shits to each other, the collective fury directed at someone that posted a video or picture of an animal being mistreated could quite possibly reignite a dying star.

He later found out that their tails were amputated at a young age for something related to the reins used to pull carriages. From what he recalls the tails would get in the way and the end result is the horse being hurt or uncomfortable or something.

Regardless, Cloudsdale is the second most populated city in Equestria, housing around a quarter of the entire pegasi population of the country and about a tenth of all the country’s bats. The RHA data he got from Emerald Aura showed that only Chicoltgo’s total population beats out the cloud city (though by a large margin), coming in at just about three hundred thousand souls. Cloudsdale also boasts the largest hippogriff and griffon populations in the country, though each only make up a percent or so of the city’s residents.

That’s still a lot of half or non-ponies compared to most areas. Baltimare has about a thousand other creatures, virtually all of whom are griffons. That’s an unusually high number compared to most cities, and the vast majority of them live near the docks with only a hundred or so up in the cloud district. Of the nearly two hundred thousand creatures that call the Cloudsdale Metropolitan Area their home a couple percent still means there’s almost as many “griff” beings in the city as there are total residents of Cure’s home town.

Joining the three on the balcony to take in the view, Cure’s good mood is reflected in his greeting. He walks right up beside Drift, lightens himself, rears up, and wraps the filly in a hug, leaning heavily on her back and withers, nuzzling into the opposite cheek with his own and wrapping his forelegs around her chest. He’s not sure why being affectionate with the tsundere is so much fun; probably because her “I hate it but I also really like it” reactions reminds him of a pouty but adorable kitten.

“How are my fetching feathered fillies on this lovely spring morning?” To his slight disappointment, rather than reject the attention Drift nuzzles back into him, not taking her eyes off of the city overhead. Squads of armored pegasi are visible all over the place and dozens upon dozens of winged families are making their way into Canterlot.

“I can’t believe we’re staying at the castle and are about to go to the Wonderbolts Season opener!” Drift squeals. “This has been like a dream come true!” The other two aren’t unaffected; both Glacial on his right and Wind on Drift’s left are vibrating in excitement too. He’d seen Mrs. Gale one time fluttering her wings in joy when he gave her the perfume flowers, and the action is even more adorable on his eager friends.

“Well make sure you thank my parents for the tickets, at least. This whole shindig was their idea, after all. I’ll take a tiny bit of credit for our accommodations, but we wouldn’t be here if they hadn’t done that. In fact, if they hadn’t I probably would have ended up coming to Canterlot with just my family and maybe Dawn’s since the boss lady initially only suggested she tag along.”

Glacial leans over and nuzzles into Cure’s right side, then Drift’s unoccupied cheek. “Speaking of the princess, were you able to see her? We saw your note.”

“Yep! I’ll tell ya what, she was surprised to find me carrying a tray of pancakes into her room when she woke up.”

“You’re nuts, colt,” Wind declares with a snort. “I’m amazed the guards didn’t stop you.”

“I’m just a foal, and more importantly, as far as they know, an alicorn colt that’s a guest of the princess. I don’t deserve it and would never take advantage at all, but I bet it wouldn’t be that hard to get at least a few bows from some of the guards, let alone gettin past ‘em with a stack of pancakes on my withers.”

He quickly waves a hoof to stop any objection and adds, “Again, I wouldn’t do that. The thought of anypony bowing to me… ugh, no thanks. All the gratitude I get at work is bad enough as is. Still, you can’t deny that some ponies would see the horn, wings, and my build and immediately jump to conclusions.”

“Well… as long as you’re not getting some kind of big ego,” Glacial concedes, visibly relieved.

“Nah, I tease and joke and whatever, but if I ever start acting like a jerk for real then, by all means, call me out on it. I said something similar to Solar and Dawn once back when I first started healing wings and horns and stuff.”

“Good. We’ll keep ya in line, colt,” Wind remarks with a smirk. She glances back towards the room and adds, “We should get everypony up for breakfast. Then we need to find a box for you.”

He gives Drift one more quick nuzzle and flaps his wings to lift off her withers. “A box?” he asks.

“Uh huh. Remember what we talked about when you came over during estrus?” Cure immediately flashes back to the slightly awkward conversation where Wind was asking for him to make some kind of unspecified change. She sees the confusion on his face, rolls her eyes, and clarifies, “The bunny thing, duh?”

“Bunny thing?” the two younger pegasi ask, sharing a confused look.

“The bunny thing?” he starts before realization sets in. With wide excited eyes he eagerly nods to the older girl. “Good call, Wind! I bet the guards can help out. So far all of ‘em seem to have a decent sense of humor. When should we do it, though?” With a scrunched snout he says, “I don’t wanna like… interfere with her court or something.”

“We’ll just ask when she normally takes a break. C’mon, let’s get everypony moving,” she calls, leading the group back inside.

Breakfast was served to the herd in the same room they had lunch the previous day. It struck Cure as kind of strange; here they were sleeping in the palace and, for the most part, it might as well have been a very high end hotel. Sure it was nicer and had a lot of guards milling about, but they were doing the same thing they would be doing if they had stayed anywhere else.

It occurs to him that a typical day at the palace is probably pretty boring. It’s the home of the leader of the, as far as he knows, most prosperous country on the planet. If crazy shit were happening all the time then something has probably gone horribly wrong. Some ninety nine odd percent of days here are probably just like any other workplace, there just happens to be an obscenely powerful demigod living here too.

Dawn noses at Cure’s cheek and gives the colt a concerned look. “What’s wrong?” she asks. “You’ve just kinda been looking around and not eating.”

Sure enough, half his omelet is still sitting on his plate, and he’s barely eaten any of his cinnamon rolls. “Nothins wrong. It just seems odd,” he admits with a scrunched snout, “I just kinda figured staying in the palace would be… different? I guess?”

“Seems pretty awesome if ya ask me,” Heavy comments, reaching for another roll. “Mom hasn’t made breakfast rolls like these for months. Not since Hearth’s Warming, in fact.” He scrunches his snout in annoyance and adds, “Fall always pigs out on them too, so you gotta eat them before she gets ‘em all.”

“It’s quiet,” Glacial notes, glancing around. “I thought it would be a lot busier.”

“That!” Cure agrees, pointing his hoof at the filly across the table. “It’s like we’re in a museum or something.”

“I have been a little afraid to touch anything,” Ferric admits. “Like those vases,” she points to a set sitting against the wall between the windows with flowers in them. “Are they priceless antiques or… just normal vases you can buy anywhere?” She looks to her left at her sister and asks, “Are normal vases expensive?” Sapphire doesn’t even pause cramming pastries in her mouth to shrug.

“I wouldn’t worry yerself that much, girls,” Amethyst calls from the adult half of the table. “Tha princess knew y’all were comin. If there was somethin she was worried about getting broken I bet my mane they’d ‘a had it put away. Plus y’all can just Mend it back if somethin happens.”

“True. Besides, why would you mess with the vases anyhow?” Drift asks, looking appraisingly over her withers at said ceramics. “They look like regular vases to me.”

Ferric rolls her eyes at the purple filly, softly saying, “It was just an example.”

“Seems like a weird example. The suit of armor seems more like your kinda thing,” she suggests, waving a fork at the full suit on the opposite side of the room behind the dark filly.

All of the foals’ heads turn to examine the heavy plate suit. Cure had seen some armor sets like that at Base Carol when walking to and from the gym with the guards on Fridays. Apparently in times of war the guard puts away the ceremonial shit and busts out the more practical barding. The bigger, stronger earth ponies like Rushing Charge and Sgt. Bulwark, once armored up, weigh in at three hundred and twenty kilograms or more.

Thanks to magic, earth ponies are far stronger, and as a result, faster than they should be from a purely biomechanical standpoint. Add seventy to eighty kilograms of steel on and strap an extendable lance over their shoulder and you have yourself a pointy, three hundred and twenty kilogram battering ram with a seventy kph charging speed and nearly unlimited endurance. Heat is the main problem with those, but the ponies geared up like that will have enchantments to help address that issue.

“That is a beauty,” Ferric nods, “but I’m pretty sure I can touch that without breaking it. In fact, I doubt I could break that unless I had my tools and really tried.”

“True,” Drift concedes. “Do you think you’ll be able to make stuff like that eventually?”

“Mmm… Yeah, after a lot of learning. Cure showed me how that part of my talent works a few weeks ago, but I still need years of training on how exactly the pieces are supposed to fit so they’re protecting the wearer and don’t get in the way. I mainly work on farm tools and stuff right now.”

“We’ll hafta do some experiments with the transmutation too, Red. I bet we could come up with some crazy alloys and, someday, even the boss lady herself would be thrilled ta wear a set of yer armor,” he insists with a firm nod.

“I don’t know if I’ll ever be that good,” she shyly comments, poking at her plate.

Cure noticed her give him an interested look at the alloy suggestion, though. Once again he regrets not having more material science knowledge from earth, but Ed at least knew enough that, combined with the absolute bullshit cheat that Transmutation is, it should be pretty quick and easy to test out a wide variety of metal combinations to find something no creature on the planet has ever seen.

“I bet you will, sissy!” Sapphire insists, nudging her sister with a shoulder. “I can help ya make it look pretty too! Some nice rubies or garnets would really add a nice scary ‘GRR I’m angry!’ red in there, or a purple garnet or sapphire that would match her eyes and mane! Or! Or some bright orange topaz like the sun!”

“I’ll… uhh… think about it.”

“Good! Lemme know when you’ve got it ready!”

“How did he help you with your talent?” Drift asks, glancing between the colt and filly.

“Is that why you went to her work?” Dawn questions too.

“Yeah, you know…” he waves airly at nothing, “I showed her how to cheat, basically. She can charge crystals now too, she just needed somepony to show her how. You all heard the boss lady last night. We’re all magical and whatnot.

“Just ‘cause a bunch of dead idiots centuries ago and their moronic pride got in the way doesn’t mean pegasi and earth ponies can’t use magic. Between that and treating crystals like a hobby I just don’t know what the hay ponies were thinkin.”

Title calls from further down the table, “They probably didn’t have a good, reliable way of enchanting, Cure. At least, not unless somepony out there has a cutie mark specifically in that. You see how few unicorns bother learning any spells at all. Plus, I think you may be underestimating how untrusting a lot of ponies are in magic even to this day.”

“That’s stupid though! It’s a tool just like a fork,” he insists, waving his in the air for all to see. “I don’t even know why we still call it magic. The word magic means supernatural, and for us it is entirely natural. It’s just another form of energy!”

Deflating slightly, he admits, “Well, at least sort of. I guess there is a metaphysical component as far as wherever the energy is coming from that doesn’t have a physical source… strong magic users only biologically produce a portion of their capacity, after all. And, I guess there’s also the weirdly non uniform behavior like how Reduce results in a proportionally correct body instead of a flat percent reduction,” he finishes with a dejected sigh.

The adults are unaffected, but every foal is looking at the colt like he’s speaking another language. The parents have all heard it more than once. Dawn, Solar, and Ferric have gotten partial explanations, but until last night when the princess dropped her infobomb on everypony the rest just assumed magic was on the other side of a curtain they would never be able to pull back.

“They taught us some basic stuff in…well, Basic, obviously,” Solar explains. “They started throwing around terms like thaums and thaumaturgical studies. Maybe while you’re here you should go see what membership at that Assembly is all about. We’ve got Saturday to explore, after all, and her highness did say they aren’t going to give you a hard time at all.”

“Those terms were in some of the books our teacher sent us,” he acknowledges, “but they’re still the jerks that were sayin I needed to be brought in or whatever, too. I’ll do that when I’m older, but for now I don’t want it to look like I’m coming to them.”

“Is she sending more soon?” Dawn asks hopefully. “It’s been a few months and I think I’ve read the ones she sent us a dozen times already.”

“Dunno, I haven’t heard from her since the first batch. I hope she didn’t kick the bucket or something. Maybe I’ll send her a letter when we get back.”

“Can you show me what you showed her?” Drift asks, interrupting Cure’s train of thought.

“Me too,” Wind immediately chimes in.

“Sure, of course. Dawn can give you the basics too,” he points out. “She’s the more experienced of the two of us, don’t forget.” The unicorn beams at his praise, nodding eager to help her friends as well.

Cure is just about to ask some details about Drift’s talent when a door opens and a pegasus guard mare walks in. He quickly tells the sisters “After breakfast” as she makes her way to Vines, passes her an envelope, gives a shallow bow, then turns and leaves.

With all eyes on her, Vines opens the envelope, reads the note, and passes it to her husband. “A few things. First, the princess sent some books to your room for Crosswind,” she says, leaning forward to look towards the purple filly. “They’ll be in there when you get back.

“Next, she has open court this morning. She asks that we bring you,” she meets Cure’s eyes, “by during her morning recess at ten o’clock to meet with her officers. Also, Coast, Ferric, and Sapphire,” she pans her gaze over the three, “there’s a fair in the market district here in Canterlot to celebrate the Wonderbolts season starting.”

“That’s a big recruiting opportunity,” Solar adds. “The Guard puts that on at every show, but today’s will be special since it’s here and the season opener. They’ll have a lot of fun stuff there for foals and adults. Food stands, games, shops… I’m pretty excited about it.” He turns to Vines and adds, “If you want to take it easy and rest here Star and I can take them. We talked it over last night.”

“I think we all want to go, actually,” Lemon says. Amethyst and Title nod in agreement to the cheers of Cherry and Lotus.

“Thank you for the offer, Solar, honey, but I’d like to see it too,” she replies. “That’s related to the last item on the note; transportation and an escort have been arranged for all of us by her highness.”

When Cure opens his mouth to say something she quickly adds, “They’ll be out of uniform and we’ll be in normal carriages. Nopony will know we have a Guard escort.” He closes his mouth and nods in approval. “There will be two teams, one for each of us. We’ll meet them shortly after lunch and split up from there.”

“You never said how your talk with the princess went,” Dawn says. “Is she okay with your,” she waves at his side and head meaningfully.

“Yep. Even though I don’t have pegasus magic they’re officially updating my record. She says that’ll keep anypony else from trying anything since, ya know… male alicorn and whatnot.”

“Yeah, dude… nopony would touch you then,” Heavy agrees. “It would cause a riot.”

“So you can stop using that stupid disguise?” Drift asks.

“Ehh… the lieutenant that was with us made a good point about that. Think of it this way, Drift; you’re a parent with a daughter and there’s an alicorn colt in town that’s around her age. What’s the first thing that comes to mind?”

Everypony takes only a second to connect the dots before cringing. Dawn’s expression is one of pure horror. Solar looks over just in time to catch it and fails to hold in a snort at the stricken look.

“Exactly,” Cure answers with a nod. “She assured me the whole Archmage Assembly thing isn’t a problem, and like I’ve said many, many times before, I can hide my identity. If somepony spots a filly hanging out with an alicorn colt, though? Envy is an ugly beast, ladies.”

“I don’t blame ya, dude,” Heavy says. “I’ve only come to your job a few times and it seems like everypony has a daughter or niece or cousin they want you to meet. I can’t imagine if they thought you were a prince or something.”

Coast’s eyes almost pop out of her head as she asks, “But… that’s not happening, right?!”

“No way,” he instantly answers. “Even if I were the genuine article the thought of all that responsibility sounds awful,” he says. “The first thing I would do if I were in charge is move the country away from a pure monarchy.

“There has to be dozens, even hundreds of ponies with marks in leadership that would be way better at it than me. I’d be far better utilized somewhere that my talent helps.”

“That’s… a good point, actually,” she agrees. “It would make a lot more sense to have somepony with a special talent making decisions. You could probably help a lot more ponies in a hospital or something.”

“Exactly. Put competent ponies in charge and set up a system independent of them to make sure they aren’t taking advantage of their position. It’s really hard to get a lie past me and I would make a great spy, so it wouldn’t be worth trying ta run a scam or something.”

“It may not be your talent, but you should be like… a cutie mark councilor,” Drift suggests, nearly vibrating in excitement at the idea. “The princess said nopony else can do what you did! Can you do it again?”

“Probably?” he cautiously answers. “I mean… I can make guesses, but there’s not really any guarantee until it happens, ya know?”

Half a dozen foals explode in questions and pleads for help the instant he finishes speaking. Dawn, Heavy, Glacial, Coast, Rising, and Sapphire are all still blanks, but he refuses to share any potential ideas, citing the possibility that seeing it coming may prevent it from happening.

The foals all start chatting animatedly amongst themselves about talents and cutie marks, letting him off the hook in case he’s right. Everypony is pretty excited for the day, so breakfast is quickly finished and the group makes their way back to their rooms to get cleaned up and ready.

Despite the extremely unusual wakeup call, the morning had been rather peaceful. Fridays in court are normally pretty busy since ponies are perfectly happy to use “I need to go to court” as an excuse to make it a three day weekend.

With the festive mood in the city, many of the would-be petitioners apparently found something else to occupy their time. Either that or, possibly, the local businesses are so inundated with all of the citizens of Cloudsdale coming down to take care of anything they need done that’s located in the capital.

Celestia has to admit; the prospect of moving the castle to the roaming city is a tempting one. The ability to both travel and still be close to the comforts of home is something that only a small portion of her little ponies get to enjoy. It’s a shame that it’ll never happen… at least, not for a very long time.

The wide array of changes that would be necessary boggles the mind, let alone the impact it would have on her court. On one hoof, ponies from all over wouldn’t have to travel to Canterlot to visit her, but on the other traveling to Canterlot is relatively easy compared to many places, even if it can take a day or so to get here.

Dismissing the errant thoughts as unimportant, she makes her final ruling before her morning tea break. Seconds away from calling for recess, she pauses to look up when Duke Dandy clears his throat. Gavel in hoof, Celestia pauses to look questioningly at her old friend. He flicks his eyes to the viewing area and back, causing her to take note of the foals eagerly watching, eyes glistening with anticipation.

It only takes a fraction of a second to put two and two together; Cure has done something. A prank of some sort, judging by the amusement on their faces. Well two can play at that game, and the foal is a couple millennium too young to get one over on this princess, he’ll soon learn.

“Duke Dandy?” she calls questioningly.

“If it pleases her majesty, a strange creature was found on the castle grounds and, before it could devour her highness’s prized petunias, the grounds crew succeeded in subduing the vermin. Apparently it is of a species with which they are unfamiliar, however, so they thought to seek your esteemed advice as to what to do with it.”

“Do tell…” she flatly replies. The petunias aren’t prized and he knows that, so he must be in on it. “And where might said creature presently be?”

Celestia watches as the duke stands out of the way of the doors and opens them wide. Two armored guards, ones assigned to the guest hall, she notes, are wheeling the roughly pegasus-sized box between them on a dolly. They stop just before the dias, bow, and take a step away, both mares nearly shaking with barely contained mirth.

Casting a suspicious look between the pair, she mentally makes note to discuss the need for more discipline with the captain in the near future. This morning’s incident was understandable; she all but hoofed the keys to the nation over to the colt.

He’s obviously smart enough to realize he could have done almost anything with that disguise. What’s worse is that she would have probably taken a while to determine the culprit. Instead he revealed his capability solely to visit her and bring her a delicious breakfast. And, perhaps, point out a rather substantial lapse in security.

She hadn’t thought of those vile creatures for centuries, but the colt had a very valid concern; with a flash of magic somepony in the know could have severely compromised the city’s defenses. That will have to be agenda item two when Captain Shield and she have time to review Guard readiness.

She might as well look into updates with Sgt. Haze’s proposal while she has the colt on her mind. As unlikely as it is that anypony would be bold enough to attack one of her cities, she would be mortified if the tragedy could have been averted or, at least, mitigated for as little as the couple million bits needed to buy the exceptional tier crystals.

Truthfully, the foal probably needs some sort of counseling, but if it weren’t for his paranoia, who knows what could have happened to him.

“Bailiff?” she calls, looking towards the month’s assigned private. Her first day of her rotation and the poor girl is going to be exposed to whatever the colt has done. Unlucky.

The young unicorn steps before the bench. “Yes, your highness?”

“Could you ensure the…” she can’t help but sigh, “creature is unharmed?”

The young mare looks warily at the box and the two guards standing beside it. They both smile broadly at her, one giving an encouraging nod. After taking another quick glance back up to the princess she ignites her horn and lifts one side of the lid, then slowly inches forward to peek in, leaning as far back as she can at the same time.

Her countenance flips a hundred and eighty degrees all at once. No longer even slightly wary, the guard’s pupils shrink to pinpricks, her mouth falls open, and both forehooves latch onto her cheeks while she lets out a piercing squeal of… joy? Discarding the lid, the private leans over the lip of the box and nearly dives in, reaching for whatever crazy thing Cure has put in there or, more likely, turned himself into.

That wasn’t exactly the reaction Celestia expected. Truthfully, she wasn’t sure what to expect from the foal. For as young as he is he’s obviously exceedingly smart. Not just smart, either, but he also shows wisdom and creativity well beyond the norm, the combination resulting in a colt whose behavior is quite difficult to predict.

That he was born exactly a hundred years before the long awaited date is a clue; him gaining a talent likely to lead to an unaging state may as well be a sign from the maker herself. Strange that she’s had no visions of him ascending at all; only fleeting glances of somepony like his fillyfriend, Dawn, his mother, Title, and a young unicorn filly with a coat like the Crosswind girl.

“Bailiff?” she softly calls to the young mare.

Head shoved into the box, Celestia can only make out portions of the private’s cooing voice. “... and fuzzy and I just wanna eat you all up!!!” Ignoring the openly laughing guards, Duke Dandy approaches the bailiff and gently taps her withers, tilting his head towards the increasingly impatient alicorn awaiting the big reveal.

All annoyance vanishes in an instant when the mare lifts out the single most adorable creature that has ever graced Equus with its floofy presence. The bunny-corn, held tightly against the private’s chest, has an almost ethereal glowing white coat with a round cottony tail and a mane both streaked in blues, greens, and pinks framed by long, floppy ears. Its back is adorned with tiny little flappy wings, and on its forehead rests a nubby, white horn with a golden spiral looping up it.

Celestia’s voice hitches, any command long forgotten and dying an inglorious death before escaping. The only sound in the room is the continued cooing nonsense from the private and the collective gasps and “Aww’s” from the audience.

The bailiff holds the creature high over her head, offering it to its rightful master; its tiny little wings flapping slowly to no effect. Then the sparkling lilac eyes open and focus on the princess in a begging, “love me” look, and, for the first time in the country’s history, the Royal Canterlot Voice is used in a devastating, happy squeal.

Glaring hot fury at the bun-colt, Celestia can’t help but raise her voice. “Two hundred windows!”

“Jeez, boss… quite the impressive set ‘a pipes ya got there. Have you ever considered opera as a side gig? I know ya said you can’t carry a tune, but I bet we could figure somethin out.”

“This isn’t a joking matter, young stallion! Nearly every window in the castle and many in the nearest several blocks need Mended because of your… your… display!”

“Well, technically, your highness, I don’t believe Cure is exactly responsible here,” Cpt. Shield starts, shrinking when the princess’s glare turns her way.

Cure, Vines, Deed, the princess, the two officers, and Duke Dandy Dresser had all made their way to a meeting room after the cleanup of the courtroom. Cure was surprised to find that Celestia does indeed see petitioners in a courtroom, of a sort, and not her throne room. It makes sense; he certainly hadn’t seen anywhere for an audience to sit in the throne room the previous day.

The “bench” is not the same as a human courtroom; it’s far more open, for one. It is raised slightly, but only by a few hooves. There aren’t boxes for witnesses, nor is there a spot for a jury; just an audience sitting area, two boxes for plaintiffs, and a more business version (less gold, though still nice wood and fancy upholstery) of her throne, and the same six guards from the throne room.

It struck him more like a meeting room where a city’s leaders would listen to citizens rather than a courtroom. The design is overall less awe-inspiring and more informal, probably made to be less intimidating for a typical pony to not feel quite so overwhelmed when facing their God Queen. Her bench, while raised, is only a couple hooves above the rest of the room.

“I respectfully agree, your majesty,” Duke Dandy voices his opinion. “As many witnessed, it was not the actions of the disguised foal that shattered everything, after all, but her majesty’s enthusiastic appreciation of his visage, instead.”

“Yeah!” the brat shouts, waving vigorously in the duke’s direction. “I ain’t the one bustin out the Sonic Yell. It was very effective, by the way. Good thing I can heal eardrums. I’m willing to help by loaning a few dozen mid-low Mending crystals so the Guard can get everything straightened out faster, but there’s no way I coulda predicted that!”

The ancient mare wilts under the judgemental stare from everypony in the room. Finally releasing a sigh, she begrudgingly nods in acceptance. “Fine!” she huffs, turning to look at the two officers on her right.

“We have plenty of unicorns out fixing everything, Cure,” Lt. Spear assures him and his parents. “Fortunately the…” she hesitates, briefly glancing to the annoyed alicorn, “umm… the effect didn’t reach far beyond the outer walls. Everything will be fixed within a few hours.”

“Great! So, since that’s taken care of, when are we going to go hunt down my trees? The trail will stay fresh for a while but, unlikely as it may be, I would really like to find out if the jerks that have ‘em are the same ones that sent the mercs.”

“You are not going!” every mare in the room shouts at once.

Deed, Duke Dandy, and Cure can only stare amazed between the four before Cure mumbles, “Wow, not even the boss lady is immune to it. Neat!”

Celestia takes a deep, calming breath and looks at the bunnified colt across from her. “You said you could find your plants. How?”

Proudly beaming, Cure explains, “Scent marker. It’s not detectable by ponies, normally, but I could follow it across half the country.”

“Fantastic thinking, Cure,” Celestia compliments, causing the bun-colt to smile even broader, which looks quite bizarre on a bunnified version of herself, “Lieutenant Spear, I will not order this, but I would ask that you allow Cure to make you sensitive to the scent as well.”

“What?” the colt whines.

“Of course, your highness,” Lt. Spear responds.

“But… I…” Cure futilely looks towards his parents for help, finding stern looks from both his dam and sire.

Celestia cuts him off mid sentence. “Will be joining me for the remainder of the morning court session, which you interrupted! And you will be doing it looking. Just. Like. That!” she finishes pointing a gold-clad hoof in his direction while smiling smugly. “In fact, I believe my bailiff should have had plenty of time to prepare the accommodations I requested,” she adds, looking inordinately pleased with herself.

Cure looks helplessly to his parents who, after sharing a glance, nod to the gloating mare. “Ya made yer bed, son. Now ya gotta sleep in it.”

“These have been the greatest two days of my life,” Drift solemnly declares. “I think even when I’m like seventy or whatever I’ll look back at this trip and still say that.” She leans over, grabs Cure by the chin, and plants a soft, warm kiss on his left cheek.

Deed did not see that coming, and judging from the dark blush on his son’s cheek the colt didn’t either. Heavy and Wind are on the dark stallion’s left, the former barely holding back a laugh and the latter giving her sister an approving smile.

The group are all in an enclosed carriage courtesy of the princess and on their way up to the landing area by the arena. The princess is attending the event as well, but she’s going to be in her own big, fancy transport drawing a ton of attention.

She asked again if Cure and his friends would like to join her in the royal box, but he politely declined. He weighed the cost and benefits and decided he would prefer more discretion at this time. Granted, being publicly seen chilling with the boss lady would have gone a long way towards letting everypony know he is under her aegis, but it would have also broadcast to literally every pony in the country that there’s something special about the colt and his group of friends.

With Cure unable to get away before having to leave for the event, he had to rely on his moms to stop by Ace, Hardwick, and Rose (his attorneys) to drop off his paperwork and pay the retainer. He can’t think of any services he needs from the firm right now, but with the craziness going on in his life, having competent legal help waiting in the wings just seems like a good precaution.

As they approach the event, Cure looks out the carriage window and asks the girls what stops a pegasus from simply setting up camp on a cloud a half kilometer away and enjoying the event that way for free. The Royal Guard is the answer, apparently, as Guard pegasi patrol the surrounding kilometer or so of airspace to prevent just that. Not just to up ticket sales, either, but also as part of the security detail.

The Wonderbolts’ training area, stadium, and every other area associated with the group is considered restricted airspace due to them being a military team. There are designated approach lanes and landing zones for everypony and, winged or not, all spectators are required to walk from there. They do have camps and academies, but passes are given to authorized visitors until they’re past security just like he gets every time he goes with BRG3 to work out.

Interestingly, Cure spots a few unicorn and earth pony guards using the butterfly wing spell. Whenever her highness is in the sky they have a few members from other tribes available as well. That could be Solar’s job some day; Artillery mages are, by necessity, powerhouses when it comes to spellcasting, both in capacity and technical proficiency. That a few of them are assigned to the boss lady’s security detail just seems like common sense, despite the fact it was never shown in the cartoon.

Immortal pseudo-deity or not, Celestia is the head of a government and security, while not stifling, is still a serious issue. The very best of the best of the best are assigned to the boss’s detail, as befitting the mare that all of ponykind and, to a rather large degree, the entire planet, relies on.

Glacial is on Drift’s withers nuzzling into the purple filly’s mane while Rising is happy to use Cure’s right shoulder as a pillow, snuggled under one of the colt’s brown wings. Sparing a glance up to Dawn, Deed finds the fiery filly seems slightly annoyed, but for the most part is reluctantly accepting the fact that another girl is being affectionate with her beau.

“It has been pretty great,” her sister agrees.

“Damn right! Gettin my cutie mark, of course, has to be number one. But meeting with the princess herself, the fancy train, that dinner!” Bursting out in a giggle, she adds, “Today’s just been the icing on the cake! I’ll never, ever forget seeing her highness, Princess Celestia, squeal like a filly! Ohh, sun and stars! That was SO awesome! It did hurt a little, though… it kinda sounded like when you did that shout thing.”

“Can’t believe she put me in a pet bed,” Cure grumbles, choosing not to respond to the RCV observation.

“Ya had no problem puttin yerself in a box first, colt. ‘Least the one the princess gave ya was nice ‘n cushy.”

“It was kinda comfy,” he reluctantly admits.

Poking at his chin with her snout, Drift bursts out laughing as she shouts, “BUNLESTIA! HAHAHA!”

To his initial dismay, the princess had her bailiff send a runner to a pet store to fetch said pet bed. Cure figures he’s currently about the size of a medium dog, so it worked pretty well, all things considered. The fact that she kept him between her forelegs and spent two hours brushing, petting, and feeding him garden veggies while tending to her court duties… Well, that was pretty fucking hilarious, he has to admit.

At first it felt a little demeaning, especially with the other foals seeing it all happen, but he figured he might as well own it. He has pulled a few minor pranks on her so far. The princess seemed positively delighted when he started playing it up. Once he accepted the situation for what it was he began snuggling into her chest, rolling on his back and batting at her peytral with his paws, and fluttering his tiny wings happily whenever she paid attention to him.

More than one petitioner even inquired as to where they could find a similar pet for their foal. Cure had never considered cosmetically altering animals, either as a service or to then sell as pets, but after seeing everypony losing their minds he can’t help but think that would be a fantastic alternative income stream for whenever he does come up with an anti-aging treatment.

The idea struck him as unethical at first, but then again… he isn’t sure why. The pet, while not being capable of giving consent, ends up, in all likelihood, better off. It’s a sad truth with humans, at least, and probably carries over to ponies too; cute or pretty things are better treated. With the near sapience several animals have they may even be eager to enter into such an arrangement.

As best he can figure everyone wins; the animal gets a home and a full work-over courtesy of him, the owner gets a unique and healthy pet, and Cure can make some coin doing something objectively good.

“Ya know,” he starts, talking over the laughing, “I bet any one of you all woulda been thrilled to trade places with me,” he looks to his sire and adds, “even you.”

“In a way, I guess it is pretty cool you got to sit up there with her highness,” Rising admits. “I don’t think anypony is usually allowed to be on the throne like that.”

“True,” Dawn agrees, “Normally you’re not even supposed to get near her throne, even the court one. I think it may be a crime to sit on it.”

“Dunno bout that, Dawn girl. I could see the princess comin up with somethin as a punishment like she did with the troublemaker here,” he says, nodding at his son. “Seems more her style, dontchya think?”

It only takes a second of deliberation before she agrees. “Probably. Like, she would make them be her bailiff for a week or the court note taker or something.”

“Eh, as far as anypony is concerned it was just a big, fluffy princess-colored bunny up there. It didn’t seem like anypony minded at all, and I doubt anypony thought it was a bunny shaped pony. Who knows, maybe I’ll start selling horned, winged, fluffified bunny rabbits as pets.”

Drift’s eyes light up in excitement. “Oh my stars! Can I get one with my colors and cutie mark on its flanks?”

“No!” Glacial yells, gently slapping Drift with her left wing. “You are not getting a pet.”

Wind chimes in immediately. “Yeah, dad would be pissed. We all know Swirl would want one of her own and him and dam work too much to be taking care of one pet, let alone two.”

“Fine! Pet’s probably aren’t a good idea if I’m gonna be traveling eventually anyhow. How long do rabbits even live?”

“Ten,” Cure starts at the same time Heavy says “Thirty years or more.” Ed never had a pet rabbit, but thirty sounds awfully long. Cure gives the gray colt a “go ahead” wave and Heavy explains, “I’ve heard of pets living for a lot longer, but wild ones usually live twenty to thirty years.”

Realizing Cure’s slip, Deed confirms that rabbits on Equus live much longer than he thought. Cure lacks the detailed knowledge of canon to know when Angel first showed up, but he’s pretty confident it was early on in the show. He’s sure the bunny was still alive and kicking when the series ended, too, though the passage of time is very unclear in the cartoon.

Hopefully the boss lady wouldn’t pass on the reins too soon after Twilight ascends. That, in particular, is one future event he plans on trying to influence directly. Then again, all of Ed’s knowledge about the last few seasons was entirely from fanon, so maybe reality would have something else like a year or ten transition period.

As the girls chat about what kind of pets they would like and what “features” they should come with, the carriage shakes slightly indicating it has touched down.

The stadium for the show is of a size and configuration that Cure had not expected. Many times over the last year he has had to adjust his expectations; to scale them down from a world with a population somewhere around a thousand times as large. Wonderbolt Arena is legitimately enormous, though the configuration of the audience area is spread out vertically rather than on a diagonal incline like in human areas.

The alternate design is logical given that the construction material is clouds. It didn’t take millions of bits or an unknowable amount of steel to construct, so material efficiency is not a priority and it can be added onto for free, aside from labor costs, as needed.

Getting to their seats ended up being a little more of an ordeal than he expected. Both Heavy and Rising had nearly panicked when it was time to get out of the carriage. Deed ended up carrying both on his back after hopping out and assuring them they would be okay. By the time they made it to their area the two had calmed down enough to test the waters and sit with the other foals.

In order to help the two relax, the winged members of the party spread out to partner up with the wingless. Wind took the far left next to Rising, then Dawn jumped at the opportunity to sit half beside her while laying on Cure’s withers. Glacial claimed his right side and Heavy ended up sandwiched between her and Drift.

Dawn hasn’t needed Cloud Walk for months now, so she is wholly unconcerned despite knowing how high they truly are.

Deed had scored some pretty nice seats, all things considered. They aren’t at the center of the stadium horizontally, but they aren’t far off either. Also, since they’re in one of the higher rows they can see everything just fine.

From a cursory glance, Cure estimates the attendees are approximately ninety percent pegasi, five percent bats with a smattering of unicorns, barely any earth ponies, very few griffons and hippogriffs, and a single (ascended) alicorn. A few non-pony wingless races are present as well, though in single digit numbers by his count.

The first event is a series of formation maneuvers that Cure would have doubted possible had he not seen it himself. Six Wonderbolts streak out of the sky arranged in a tight circle, flying in sync through a series of high speed rolls, turns, and loops. The entire formation rotates and as each Bolt moves past the 12:00 position they peel off, shooting over the top of the arena and disappearing behind the stands.

Only seconds later the group blasts up through the clouds making up the floor of the arena arranged in a hexagon with each holding the hooves of their two wingponies. With synchronized flaps they launch into the air. They stop flapping, gaining altitude with only their inertia and, at the height of their climb the group seems to stall in the air only for a thunderous, yellow explosion to blast them apart; each one shooting away trailing an electric contrail.

“Woah. Some kinda Starburst move?” he asks.

“That was their signature opener to honor the princess,” Glacial explains, pointing at the mare’s Royal Box. Celestia is smiling broadly and clapping at the display. “It’s her favorite move; the Icaranian Sun Salutation. They do it with lightning somehow.”

“Huh, must be some kinda pegasus magic.”

“You think we can do that?” Wind asks.

“You three could,” he answers with a nod. “Dawn or I would probably have to try to invent some spell or modify an existing one to have a similar effect.”

“We need to show you how to use your magic so you can grow your capacity,” Dawn adds, watching as the performers whip around the arena. “I bet anything that’s a big difference between amazing flyers and your average pegasus. They’ve probably been using magic their whole lives compared to most pegasi who never push themselves.”

“I don’t get why ponies wouldn’t want to know this stuff,” Wind complains, looking back to the show.

“Stubbornness, Wind Shear,” Deed chimes in. “Older ponies don’t wanna learn somethin new. Especially if’n they’ve been told their whole life it don’t matter or, worse, ain’t right ta use. They pass that fear on to their foals, too. Yer young and you’ve seen how useful it is.”

“You all seem pretty okay with him doing crazy stuff,” she points out, motioning to Cure with her head.

“I ain’t old,” Deed grumbles. “The colt does all kinda crazy stuff, true, but he does a good job explainin the why, how, and whatnot.”

“Ignorance is the parent of fear, Wind,” Cure sagely explains. “If I had just suddenly started doin crazy stuff, especially to myself, without talkin to my parents first then my dam woulda flipped her lid. I think she expected me to explode when I first tried using a horn. Even after nine months of using my talent with no problems my dam still worries when I try somethin new.”

“She always will, champ.”

“My dam would freak out if I came home with wings,” Dawn comments. “You saw how my sire reacted on Nightmare Night and those were fake.”

“Yeah but he didn’t realize that at first.”

“They were pretty convincing,” Heavy agrees. Giving Cure the side-eye he adds, “Not quite as convincing as the spider legs, but…”

“Jeez dude, let it go!” Cure whines. “It’s been seven months. It’s not like I chased you down and tied you up in a web or something.”

“You did that to Solar!” Dawn blurts out in a laugh. “Tackled him from behind and hogtied him in our living room.”

“Yeah, and your sire was about ready to blast me while I did it.”

So quietly she can barely be heard over the crowd, Rising notes, “You seem weirdly good at tying ponies up though… Solar, the ones that the guards couldn’t even free… didn’t you do that to a guard in the woods too?”

“No!” he insists. “I just… kinda, ya know… jumped on his back while maybe pretending to be a spider or something.”

“... some kinda weird bug fascination,” he hears Drift mumble. “Wait… could you grow bug wings?”

“Yeah. They’re mostly thin pieces of chitin. That’s the same stuff my spider outfit was made of.”

“Could you fly if you had wings?” Rising asks, turning to face Dawn. “I know you,” she glances Cure’s way, “said it would take months to change enough to do it… have you been?”

Cure uses a crystal to erect a Sound Bubble around their group. “Sound Bubble when we’re talking about stuff like that,” Cure quietly insists. “I don’t want that to be overheard by anypony. You heard what the boss said. Probably shoulda done that from the start,” he says, looking around to see if anypony seems to be paying special attention to them.

Rising winces slightly from her slip as Dawn leans closer so the two can whisper to each other.

“So… you did, huh?” Drift asks, almost accusingly.

With a casual shrug Cure reminds her, “You know I don’t talk about other ponies’ business, Drift. I’m not sayin I did or didn’t, but either way I wouldn’t betray anypony’s trust by saying. If I had, though, would that bother you?”

The purple filly scrunches her snout in thought for a moment. She leans forward to share a look with her sister who shrugs back and answers, apparently for both of them. “I don’t know why, but… it kinda bugs me. It’s like… that’s something we have that others don’t, and just giving it to somepony that already has their own thing feels… wrong?” She ends in a questioning lilt, looking to Glacial and Drift to see if they agree. “Is it just me?”

Drift shrugs and points out, “That’s almost exactly what I said six months ago. Five. Whatever.”

“Not… completely,” Glacial slowly admits. “I think the princess is probably right, though. I bet others would feel that way and get really upset. It’s probably a good thing you asked all of us not to spread that around.”

“Well I’m just relieved you all proved trustworthy. I don’t know what kind of mess we’d be in if somepony talked. Just out of curiosity, what if we change the perspective a bit? What if I gave each one of you a horn and showed you how to cast some basic cantrips like Light, Cleaning, Prestidigitation, Shields, and the Armor I use to fly faster? Should unicorns be upset with you?”

“No!” Drift instantly answers. “We would still have to learn how to cast those. It seems complicated.”

“So is learning to fly,” Cure reminds them. Three accusatory looks turn his way. “Well, for normal ponies that don’t know how to cheat properly. With a horn you don’t really have to learn anything to use levitation, shoot concussion blasts, or project a shield. You can’t do much with wings until you learn how.” He leans over and gives Glacial a soft nuzzle. “Thankfully I had a wonderful teacher.”

“Hey I helped too!” Drift huffs, scowling at the pair.

“Umm… no you didn’t,” he says. “You were messing with different wing shapes the whole time. I mean, it’s fine since I learned so fast, but you didn’t really help at all.”

The filly frowns in thought and turns back to watch the show. A different pair of Wonderbolts had come out to relieve the first six. The two, a mare and a stallion, are having a mock battle with daggers and wing blades. Cure figures the dulled edges are lined with flint or something, as each exchange is a whirlwind of feathers, clanging metal, and a shower of sparks.

“That’s something you would be awesome at,” he notes, looking left to Wind. “Have you looked into any kind of martial art since you got your mark?”

“Uhh… no? Are there places in Baltimare that teach how to fight?”

“Dam could teach you,” Drift suggests.

“Or Corporal Arc or Sergeant Song could refer us to somepony,” Cure adds. “She has a wingblade cutie mark even. I know Static is good with daggers and I bet my great grandsire could tell us who his security ponies train with.”

“Us?” she repeats.

“Sure. I imagine at some point I’ll run into some situation where magic isn’t going to be an automatic win and I’ll just hafta beat the crap outta somepony instead. Despite what every parent says, violence very much is an answer to many problems.”

“Damnit colt, don’t say that!”

In a genuinely curious tone he turns to his sire and asks, “Why?”

“Ya shouldn’t be tellin yet friends that violence is a good solution!”

“I wouldn’t say ‘good’ exactly, but it is a viable solution in many situations.” The colt adopts a lecturing tone and explains, “See, the thing is, violence is the only truly universal language. Every creature understands it and, nearly to the last, every creature speaks it.

“From the most wise and experienced amongst us,” he casts his eyes towards her highness, “all the way down to the most mindless, insignificant bug,” he says, turning his hoof over and watching as an ant walks along his hoof wall.

He blows the ant away and continues, “The trick is to know when and how much to use and who or what to use it on.”

Drift nods approvingly. Wind and Dawn do as well, though their look is more begrudging of the truth. Rising, Glacial, and Heavy seem a lot more unsure.

Unfortunately the colt doesn’t stop there. “Sadly you hafta worry about what everypony else thinks instead of just, ya know,” he reaches out with his forehooves, grabs an imaginary head, and does a quick twist to the side while making a cracking noise in his throat, “otherwise I would’a had this whole tree stealing thing wrapped up by now.”

All six foals give him a wary look as he lets out a wistful sigh. With a contemplative look he glances around the stadium and, suddenly, perks up waving a wing eagerly while dispelling the Sound Bubble. “Sweet!” he shouts as everypony follows his gaze to a snack vendor flying their way. “Anypony else want some popcorn? OH! Do they have Cracker Jacks here?!”

Most of the memorabilia for sale was stuff Cure could make himself. Wonderbolt Approved flight suits, capes, masks, goggles, and so forth didn’t appeal to everypony when they knew he could, and would be happy to, magic up something virtually guaranteed to be of better quality and for no real cost. The pegasi each got a signed poster depicting the current roster and the sisters also picked up an “Official” Wonderbolt aerial maneuvers guide, all courtesy of the vouchers from the maze the night before.

Cure’s initial thought was that they maybe shouldn’t be selling the maneuvers book. He could easily envision excited foals trying stuff in the manual and ending up hurt. Then he remembered the nearly comical way pegasi bounce off objects and the availability of cloud cushioning, so he had to grant that hospital wings full of crippled pegasus foals is probably not a major concern.

Also, he’s aware that foals will do what foals will do either way and, it’s possible, the warnings and guidance of the book may actually cause some to be more cautious than they otherwise would be.

He had asked the three that weren’t going if they wanted anything and they had declined. It’s not at all surprising to him that three earth pony fillies living in a suburb of Baltimare have little interest in the flying squadron. Still, he had found a book about the group that had a few chapters covering weapons and armor for fliers, so he grabbed that for Ferric along with a hooffull of replica badges for everypony and a few Wonderbolt dolls for his sisters.

Heavy got a Wonderbolt coloring book for his sisters, then at Cure’s urging, grabbed a few more so they wouldn’t have to share and he would have one himself and another to give to Coast.

Dawn didn’t spot anything that struck her fancy, but did point out a lovely sky blue topaz and yellow citrine gemmed pendant in the Wonderbolt’s wings and lightning bolt design she thought their aqua coated friend would like. Cure readily agreed; the girl may not wear it often, but it would be a nice reminder of the trip either way.

It was ridiculously inexpensive, too, given the materials. He could only marvel that something with precious metals and fine gemstones is only slightly over a hundred bits when it would probably have cost thousands of dollars on Earth.

He was told before they left that the princess wouldn’t be available to join them for dinner tonight as she had political nonsense to see to. They were promised an update on his tree recovery sometime the next day, at least. Cure was surprised he wasn’t somehow dragged into anything ridiculous given the eye roll inducing clicheness of it.

He laughingly joked with his sire about somepony hurting a wing and him having to go out and save the day, only to end up giving all the Wonderbolts massages to ease their strained muscles, but thankfully no such silliness came about. Nor was there some kind of halftime intermission where, against all odds, he or one of his friends was called out onto the field only to wow the entire crowd. After the whole rodeo episode he did his best to remain as low key as possible.

That’s not to say the entire affair was without incident; Cure and the others noticed that the wingless amongst them, including his sire, got more than a few curious looks and, in a few instances, some disapproving stares.

Of course there’s always at least a few in a crowd, so Cure had to stifle a chuckle when he noticed a couple mares intentionally cross in front of Deed with their tails swishing more than was strictly necessary, only to then turn and chat him up while the foals were shopping.

That’s not terribly surprising. The tickets for the event weren’t cheap, and the carriage that was obviously waiting on them was big and, while not “royal,” still quite nice. With Cure’s brown colors and his and Heavy’s thick builds the assumption that Deed is the sire to one or both colts is pretty reasonable. There’s also the fact that pegasus stallions are two to three hooves shorter than the dark stallion and none are anywhere near as wide or muscular.

Throw in his perfect complexion, well groomed and oiled coat, the legendary earth pony stamina, and the lack of an accompanying mare and there’s bound to be some curious ladies bold enough to approach. Deed’s size, both in stature and other areas, also made him possibly the largest non-alicorn pony present, so nopony gave him or any of the foals he was escorting any lip. Still, the somewhat unsubtle “you do not belong here” vibe was present when the group visited the gift shop.

It was the only time that Cure caught sight of the six guards that had been shadowing the group the whole time. One of them must have picked up on the group’s discomfort and called in backup because a three-mare squad of armored guards made their way in the shop to look around and coincidentally interpose themselves between the group and anypony shooting them a look.

He’d kept in contact with his mom throughout the event via Sending, concerned despite the reassurance of the princess that somepony would try something. It was a relief when he finally got word that they were returning to the palace unaccosted. In all likelihood whoever sent the mercenaries and the zebras would just be getting word today that they had failed, and with the plants delivered and the group under Royal Guard protection, attacking them now would both be pointless and, he assumes, an escalation they can’t afford.

Not only would the official response from an act probably be more than anypony could stomach, but even finding anypony to try would be nearly impossible. Presumably it takes more than a day to find and hire a willing group, and they would certainly need some prep time before making the attempt.

Happy to be left to his thoughts, Cure relaxes on the way back to the palace, quietly enjoying the lively chatter of the group as they excitedly recall and reenact (as much as can be done in a carriage) the show’s events.

Author's Note

Okay, so yeah, definitely going to have to take a few weeks off after the Canterlot Arc. Between travel and my quickly depleting buffer (Curse you, super long chapters!) I'll definitely need a moment to catch back up (technically, get back ahead).

The schedule as I have it planned right now is 63 next Monday, 4/24, then 64 the week after (those both take place on Saturday the 2nd in-story). The problem is that 64 keeps growing... ugh. I don't plan on splitting it, but it'll probably end up over 20k again, especially if I include the small bit on Sunday in that chapter I'm kicking around in my head. I don't want to do another chapter just for them leaving, but I'll probably have to do some small bits that take place soon after their arrival, but those will have to wait.

Anyhow, after Cure & Co. leave Canterlot I plan on taking a break -NOT QUITTING - for probably the rest of the month of May, or at least most of it. Who knows, maybe the inspiration fairy will come slap me around so hard I can't help but come back on the 22nd (very unlikely because of travel) or the 29th (not terribly unlikely), but LFAW won't be ending unless I keel over in the meantime.

So this chapter is one I'm kinda torn on. The ending could be better, but as I've mentioned these Canterlot ones are going on soooo long. The boss lady has stuff she has to take care of, obviously, and is going to be all throughout the next two, so Cure can't completely monopolize her time.

Oh well, enough about all that. Enjoy the chapter, folks, and thanks for reading!

Chapter 63: A Powerful Cream Pie

Saturday, May 2nd, 909 AB (The next morning)
Just after sunrise

The light tugging and nudging on his feathers slowly brings Cure out of his sleep. Face buried in Sapphire’s mane, it takes him a moment to process what’s happening and who he’s laying on. Heavy is laid on his back under his chest, bearing a good bit of his weight with no problem.

His aqua-colored friend is laid on her barrel facing the other direction and is using the gray colt’s left haunch as a pillow while laying across Cure’s forelegs. It looks uncomfortable, visually, but with earth pony toughness and an almost cat-like ability to get comfortable in any position, he knows she’s fine.

A familiar weight is on his own back as well. He’s kind of relieved their positions aren’t reversed because Dawn has all but mounted him. Her head is resting just below his withers between his wings and she has her forelegs wrapped around his barrel under them, or at least where they would be if folded.

Ferric is on her side in front of Cure, back pressed into her sister’s left side while holding Rising in a tight embrace. The yellow filly looks content being snuggled with by the stronger girl and they both seem fine despite Cherry and Lotus laying on top of them. Coast is laid on her right side facing away from the pair, her left side being used as a pillow and her tail crossing over Sapphire’s to drape across Heavy’s face.

Waking up to find almost every friend in a close-knit pile is a wonderful feeling. Almost as wonderful as the preening he’s getting from Drift and Glacial; their combined efforts are welcome, even if unnecessary, and are making it exceedingly difficult to come to full wakefulness.

The colt takes a deep breath, enjoying the pair’s ministrations, the scents of his friends, and the warmth of the surrounding bodies, content to let the girls have their wicked way with his wings. None of his feathers need to be pulled, but several have shifted out of place overnight. He can only assume they’re doing it to show affection; they know he can use his talent to accomplish the same thing in an instant.

In the back of his mind he can’t completely push down the thought; at some point he’s going to have to have a talk with them and any other romantically interested friend and reveal the truth of his mental shift last year. That’s not something he’s looking forward to, but it would be a terrible betrayal to enter into any relationship with them without sharing such an important part of his life.

The talk can’t really wait very long either. Drift and Ferric are both ten and have their marks. They’re a long way from being considered adults, but from about twelve on is when fillies typically start looking for prospective mates. That will be a social dynamic that changes significantly with the possibility of a longer life and more colts, but for his generation and, in all likelihood, the next, heterosexual mares will still have to struggle to find monogamous love.

Pushing thoughts of the future from his mind, Cure relaxes and spreads his wings further, giving the girls easier access to the layered plumage. After a few more minutes he feels Glacial gently nipping at the base of his right wing, prodding him to wake up. It dawns on him that they probably want to get moving for the day, and with his plants on sentry duty are leery of testing the room’s exits.

“Fine,” he quietly sighs, turning to meet the platinum filly in a surprise nuzzle. “Thanks, by the way,” he says, turning the other direction to greet Drift, “that felt nicer than I expected.”

“It’s relaxing,” Glacial agrees, “none of your feathers are loose, of course, but when you pull a loose one it has this feeling…” she drifts off trying to think of how to describe it.

“It feels really good, even though it hurts a little,” Drift finishes, “kinda like there’s this pressure that’s built up that you’re relieving.”

“Ah,” he utters in realization, “so it’s like letting out a big fart, huh?” Both girls squawk in indignation at first, but soon break into giggles, “or when you hold it too long and then finally do the whole ‘two minute pee’ thing,” he sagely explains with a knowing slow nod, drawing gentle wing slaps from the laughing fillies. “Ugh, speaking of which,” he says, looking over his withers at a smiling, content unicorn.

“She totally mounted you,” Drift giggles out.

“Aww, it’s adorable!” Glacial fondly agrees. “Look at that smile.”

“How are you going to get up?”

“Like this,” he says, using his horn and TK field to lift Dawn and Sapphire enough to wiggle free. Once unpinned he spreads his wings and floats straight up out of the pile, moving her forward to take his place. She stirs a little, but quickly settles, turning to her left slightly and snuggling into Heavy’s chest. The colt is happy to have a warm body on him and gently wraps his forelegs around her neck.

After a quick trip to the potty the trio start making their way to the door when he realizes somepony is missing. “Where’s yer sister?”

“Reading one of the books from the princess. They’re a little… umm,” she cringes slightly and looks to her friend for help.

“Dry,” Glacial tactfully supplies, opening the bedroom door and leading them into the living room area. Wind is laying on her back on a couch holding a book upside down over herself while reading. “They’re neat, I guess, but they read like our textbooks.”

“Eh, it’s been quite a bit since the boss lady has been a foal. Keep in mind she’s been around for like… eight or so times as long as everypony combined, including my parents, Solar, and Star, have been alive. She probably doesn’t remember having a short attention -”

Cure abruptly cuts off when the door opens and the princess strolls in. All three pegasi scramble, yelling out warnings, causing the mare to freeze in her tracks. Wide-eyed, she looks around trying to figure out why they’re shouting until she notices Cure’s plant behind her left flank by the door. Two armored heads poke around the frame briefly to see what the ruckus is as the princess casts a curious gaze at the snickering colt.

“’Mornin, boss. I set up a couple plants in case anypony barged in while we were sleeping. Of course,” he smugly looks over the three, “I made sure they wouldn’t do anything to anypony in the group. Or your esteemed self, naturally.”

“I see…” she says, turning to take a closer look at the plant. For the most part it looks just like the rest of them; a tightly coiled mass of dark, red vines with a layer of small, nearly black leaves. She uses a hoof to brush the leaves aside, revealing numerous pods lining the exterior of the vines and arrayed in an arc mostly pointing towards the entrance. “Paralytic?”

Nodding, he answers, “And soporific. Very fast acting.”

“Is it painful?”

“No. It shouldn’t hurt at all. Maybe like a pin jabbing you at worst, but it acts so fast I doubt it would even register.”

“Interesting.” Celestia takes a couple steps away from the door and turns to watch, calling out for her guard with a soft, “Corporal? Could you please come here for a moment?”

Before Cure can voice an objection the mare on the right comes trotting in the door. “Ye-” is as far as she gets before two loud pops ring out and dozens of darts blast the left side of her neck and barrel. Most hit armor, but a few find their way through gaps. The corporal drops like a brick as Celestia recoils from the noise and quick motion.

The small explosion startles the guards in the hall, prompting them to rush into the room to protect their godqueen. The first through the door is her other guard who only gets one leg in before she’s blasted too. Her hoof catches on her partner and, inertia being a thing, carries her somersaulting body into the room, sliding until it hits a couch and stopping on her back.

The princess only has a split second to stare wide-eyed at her downed guardians.

The clanging of an armored body on tile causes a huge commotion, panicking the remaining guards in the hall. As six more bodies rush into the room the plant goes full automatic, firing pod after pod at the uninvited invaders.

In only a few seconds from the initial shots going off, eight guards are laying asleep on the floor in a path of bodies. Like the second one, a few that had gotten up to speed and are piled by the couch a few body lengths into the room. A sweet, woodsy scent fills the air, as do particles of shredded leaves that had been blasted everywhere and are drifting to the floor like confetti.

“Well, that escalated quickly,” Cure flatly observes. He and the fillies approach the downed guards and pan over the group, casting accusatory looks in the gawking princess’s direction. “Jeez, boss… that was kinda mean.” Cure barely finishes the sentence before the parents’ door across the hall is flung open, as is Solar’s and the door to the bedroom he’d just left his sleeping friends in.

With eight disabled guards and eighteen sets of eyes looking on amazed, Celestia grimaces and surveys the chaotic scene. “I… had not anticipated the noise,” she sheepishly admits. “Or the speed and avidity with which it reacted. Are they unharmed?”

Cure can see his sire motioning the moms back, telling them he’ll see what’s happened before heading their way. They still look on warily through their door, able to see the princess, some of the foals, and the line of unconscious guards lying at their hooves. Solar approaches too, probably curious about what Cure’s plants are actually capable of.

“Umm… they can’t give consent. Are you okay with me, ya know?” he asks, waving to the group. He’s aware of the other foals approaching from behind and getting filled in by the pegasi.

“Yes, please,” she immediately answers, letting out a sigh and running a hoof down her face. As Cure gets to work she explains, “I had come to invite everypony to breakfast in the main dining hall, as well as to discuss plans for the day.” She takes a moment to survey the guards and shakes her head. “I will have to apologize to them. I feel just awful… the poor dears.”

“Kudos on the enthusiasm,” Cure grumbles as he starts, “but yer guards need some situational awareness training.”

She looks over the shrub, watching as the expended pods begin closing and, apparently, reloading. “One plant,” she sighs again, watching the victorious shrub rearm itself. “Had I any doubt to your claims previously, that display would have certainly dispelled them.”

“Your plant knocked out eight guards?!” Dawn asks incredulously.

Cure glances up to the orange filly with a smirk. “Is that really so unbeleafable?” he asks. Her expression immediately changes to scowl. Waving to the shrub he adds, “My plants don’t moss around, ya know? They can be very violet, and, of course, know how to fight dirty.” He keeps a straight face for about two seconds before he snorts, trying to hold back a laugh before ultimately failing. At least Sapphire finds him punny, rolling on the floor in a fit of giggles, but all of the rest give him pitying looks.

“Cure Wave…” the princess sighs in a deeply disappointed tone.

“Sorry. I couldn’t kelp myself,” he barely finishes before bursting out in laughter again. Finishing with a chuckle, he explains, “In all seriousness, it probably has enough pods left for another couple dozen shots, too. And it’ll replace the first set in a few minutes.”

From the open door he hears Solar call out. “Dude… really? Thirty-two shots?”

Shrugging, Cure nods while he works. “Eighty. It fires more than once per attacker. I figured by the thirtieth or so the rest would have a hard time getting past all the bodies blockin the door, giving it time to rearm.”

Done looking over the guards, he gives his report. “All fixed, boss. Some bruises, a few sprains, and a fractured rib where that one,” he points at an earth pony stallion that had built up some steam, “landed on top of your second guard there. They’ll start waking up in a minute. Ya may wanna bring ‘em by when they can give their okay so I can fix up teeth, eyes, joints, etcetera.”

“Of course,” he pauses, musing out loud, “now that there’s no guards,” he menacingly adds, slowly turning to face the deadpanning mare staring over two meters down at him, “Get her!” he shouts, pointing a hoof. The other foals refuse to budge, but Cherry and Lotus spring into action, each one wrapping around one of the princess’s fetlocks and looking hopefully to Cure for approval. “Nice job, girls!” he yells, pumping his hoof. “Victory is ours!”

Celestia flicks her eyes up towards her crown and looks back to Cure with a broad smile. “If you really want it…”

With horrified realization, Cure quickly shakes his head no, backing away. “Never mind. No way, hard pass. Sorry, girls, the coup is canceled. Maybe next time,” he noncommittally suggests. The two give the princess’s knees a quick nuzzle, mercifully release her, and hop over the pile, running through Deed’s legs across the hall, eager to tell their moms of their latest successful hunt.

“Gotta say, though, princess… that’s two days in a row I’ve thwarted yer guard and gotten ya by yerself. Maybe you would be safer comin back with us.” Glancing his sire’s direction he smirks and points out, “We did just buy a bigger house, ya know? The current owners have a couple weeks to vacate, but come the thirteenth,” he trails off, waving in a “there you have it” motion.

When the princess casts a considering look to his sire the dark stallion lets out a long suffering sigh and turns tail, fleeing back to his room and shutting the door.

“Aww, don’t worry, boss. I still think yer pretty.”

“That’s very sweet of you to say.”

“I know, I’m pretty great like that,” he easily agrees. “Hey, since you’re already here and all, the trees over there,” he begins, pointing to another set of his creations sitting on the small dinette table. Both look vaguely similar to his Origin Cell Tree. Unlike the dark brown unit, they are a light blue matching his coat. Both are labeled; one with “Hinder” and the other with “Kill.” They also lack the “sample” slot since they are only making medication.

“That’s what we discussed the other day. One output makes a topical cream,” he points towards a spigot on the “Kill” tree, “and the other a water-soluble capsule for… ya know,” he explains, motioning to a sloping ramp coming out the other side. “My dam has the documentation and some seeds in her pouch for ya. We worked on that after dinner last night.”

“Thank you, Cure. I will stop by their room on the way out and have them delivered for testing while we eat. I can give your dam a receipt for those as well if you would like.”

“Sounds like a plan,” he agrees with a nod. As he looks over the slowly awakening guards he asks, “So… meetchya at breakfast in a few?”

“Forty-five minutes, Cure,” she agrees, lifting the Colt Trees in her aura. “Also, if you wouldn’t mind,” she looks back to the defensive shrub, “please don’t forget to turn that off before you come.”

“Alright,” he agrees, turning towards Wind. “That would give me time to make a basic flight suit for you to wear today,” he says, motioning to one of his plants. “It’ll have to tie instead of zip and won’t have the inlaid enchantment lines, but it’ll get you by for the day.”

Breakfast is served in the same formal dining room the group had eaten the night they arrived. It strikes Cure as funny that he’d previously compared the palace to a fancy hotel given the way the food is being served. Rather than taking individual orders the staff have set up a buffet, of a sort, where a selection of breakfast confections, oats, grits, yogurts, pastries, fruits, greens, and a variety of drinks are made available.

They’re all placed on a table with a tall bench to allow the foals to serve themselves easily, even though the staff are on standby to help anypony should the need arise. Rather than sitting right beside the princess, Cure seats himself between the earth pony sisters that were unwilling to brave the cloud city the previous day while the adults are gathered around and chatting with her highness at the end of the table.

Trying to evenly share his attention between six fillies is not an easy task, he reflects. The typical “harem” story he remembers Ed reading rarely delved into the topic, but in the real world with individuals not eager to participate in such an arrangement it strikes him as sad more than anything. Everypony should have a fair shot at finding true love, and starting out with roughly a twenty percent chance of success sucks.

He’s pulled out of his thoughts by the lively narration coming from the energetic filly to his left. Apparently Ferric had some measure of success at a whack-a-mole game they happened upon at the fair.

“... and sissy was hitting them almost before they even popped up! She got the highest score of the day, the stall keeper said!”

“Jeez, Red, remind me never ta piss ya off with a hammer in reach,” Cure playfully teases, looking to his right at the bashful girl. “Was it ‘cause,” he waves towards her side, raising a curious brow in question.

“Mmhmm,” she quietly hums. “It felt just like at work. I could just… see where to swing,” she softly confirms.

“You’re a total hardflank,” Drift boldly declares from her other side. Scrunching her snout, she gives the dark filly an appraising look. “Daddy always says it’s the quiet ones.”

Wind is across from her sister, nodding, “Yep, ya gotta keep an eye out for the pony who isn’t running her mouth. That’s the most dangerous one in any group.”

“She is really strong,” Dawn, sat between the older filly and Glacial, chips in. She looks to Wind, tilting her head in thought. “Do you think her hooves count as hammers?”

Everypony pauses at the suggestion; the entire table of foals all give the increasingly brighter blushing filly curious stares.

“We should test it!” Sapphire eagerly shouts, bouncing on her seat. “I bet sissy doesn’t even need a hammer! She just looks at the metal and goes all,” she points her hoof at a butter knife sitting beside her plate and, in a much deeper voice with a serious frown, she says, “I command thee… BEND!”

“And thus the metal obeys!” Cure solemnly declares.

Heavy and Coast are on the platinum filly’s right, across from Sapphire and Rising. Picking up on Cure’s intent, the gray colt echos, “The metal obeys!”

All the other foals join in and echo in grave tones, “The metal obeys!” and immediately break down in giggles.

Ferric, the poor thing, has sunk down in her seat. Seeing the obvious signs of anxiety, Cure leans over and wraps a foreleg around her withers and pulls himself against her side. “Don’t be sad, Red! Your friends are just trying to joke with ya, okay?”

“I know.”

“Alright, well if it bothers you too much feel free to speak up. Nopony wants to upset ya.”

“When do you want to go?” Glacial asks, leaning behind Dawn to talk to Wind.

“Around ten?” the older filly suggests. “I don’t want to go right after we eat.”

“Ask the princess for an escort,” Cure quickly insists. “Nopony goes anywhere out of the palace without a guard escort, okay?”

“He’s right,” Solar immediately agrees. “While you’re in the capital you need an adult with you anyhow, and since none of us have wings,” he finishes, waving a hoof leadingly.

“Young Corporal Strike is correct,” Celestia calls from the end of the table. “As your host, your safety while you visit is my responsibility. I will ask Staff Sergeant Bramble to assign to you a squad of pegasi for the day.” Any would-be argument about needing an escort dies on the spot as Wind, who had opened her mouth to argue with Solar, sits back down and nods in acceptance.

Smiling, she adds, “I wish you all luck; there promises to be many exceptional young fliers competing in the events today. I look forward to hearing of your success.”

“When are you all heading out?” Drift asks, turning to look at Dawn.

The orange filly shrugs, calling down the table to the adults. “Mrs. Vines? Do you know when the tour starts?”

“Eleven o’clock, Dawn, honey. Her highness was kind enough to arrange everything for us,” she answers, thanking the princess again for all of her help.

“Could I see the Guard smithing area?” Ferric quietly asks.

Alicorn hearing must be pretty good, Cure notes, as the princess smiles and nods back to the shy filly despite the bodies between them and the ambient noise from everypony eating.

“I wouldn’t mind going, too,” Heavy requests. “It sounds a lot more interesting than an opera house, at least.”

“Certainly,” the princess agrees. “Be sure to listen to young Ferric and the staff on duty, though. There are many sharp, heavy, and possibly hot items in the workshop areas.”

“What about you all?” Cure asks, looking between the unicorns and his two newest moms.

“We’re gonna take the girls ‘n hit the shops. I ain’t ever been here and even the shoppin in Baltimare is nothin like Fillydelphia had.”

“OOH! Can I come?” Sapphire shouts.

Amethyst and Lemon share a quick look and come to a decision. “Just don’t go disappearing on us, okay?” Lemon requests. Sapphire bounces in her seat, nodding eagerly in agreement.

“Dad, you going with?”

“HA! And leave you here alone to wreak havoc?”

“The boss lady’ll be with me,” he whines. “What could we possibly do that she couldn’t deal with?”

“Flag,” Title quietly mumbles between bites.

Deed slowly looks back and forth between the two innocently smiling alicorns. “I’m… not completely convinced that’s much better.”

“Worry not, Mister Deed,” she assures him, “I’ll ensure young Cure does not get into too much trouble while you are spending time with your wives.”

With a single cocked brow the stallion gives the princess a slow, evaluating look. “Yeaaaahhh… if you say so, highness.”

“Excellent!” she cheers with a clap of her unclad hooves. “Before we split up I have news regarding the lieutenant’s findings yesterday. When everypony is finished eating I would like to have a moment to update you,” she says, facing the parents. “And if you still feel up to it, Mrs. Vista has prepared a trellis scene for your ritual.”

“Of course, your highness!” Vines excitedly agrees.

“Wonderful! Perhaps if the foals would like to observe we should do the flowers first?” she suggests. “I think they will quite enjoy the arrangement, after all.”

A short while later finds the herd following the princess through the garden; the entire group being closely tailed by a different group of armored guards. Cure keeps a wary eye out for the statue, but never spots the thing.

He’s of two minds on the subject of the chaotic draconequus; first, being frozen but awake has got to be one of the cruelest possible punishments he can think of. Sure, there’s worse, but that frozen state is definitely in the top ten, maybe even three when accounting for duration.

Cure had even tossed around the suggestion of setting the dude up with some music or something to help pass the time, thinking that when Discord does finally break free there’s not any real reason the two couldn’t have at least an amicable relationship, even if they’re not exactly friends.

He’s not as sure about that as he used to be, though. After reading the available history books, Cure can’t deny the possibility that the asshole earned all that and more. He did, after all, singlehandedly fuck up uncountable millions of beings. On a planet with such a small population, even if he never straight up killed anyone, that’s still a reign of terror, relatively speaking, that may exceed anything a human ever achieved.

That’s only accounting for what the history books say, too. All of that could be a drop in the bucket compared to what he did that nobody survived to make a record of, or that happened on the other side of the planet, the results of which ponies are simply unaware of.

Cure doesn’t care to spend much time considering how to properly quantify such awfulness to accurately compare Discord’s atrocities to those of others. The fact is that despite the unmeasurable suffering he caused, given another hundred years or so, the prick will still essentially get a happy ending, and that’s after he fucks over his friends at least a few more times once he’s freed.

I suppose I could still be okay with him if he truly has reformed by then. I’m not sure when I’ll be able to tell her he’s actually awake without setting off alarm bells though, he thinks.

Deep in thought, Cure nearly walks right into the princess’s right hind leg. She didn’t notice, but he still heard a few giggles and at least one comment about a “Cure moment” from behind. It’s always Saph, isn’t it?

Waving a wing to the set up trellis, the princess turns to regard the family. “I suppose I should have asked if there are any special requirements,” she comments.

“No, your highness!” Vines eagerly answers. “We don’t need anything at all. It may need some water or fresh soil afterwards, though… I’m not familiar with this kind of flower.”

“They are a very special variation of sweet peas. Or they were at some point in history. Although that is still the name used they have been changed by magic so much they are hardly the same plant. Once they bloom they still have the same lovely scent as the original and the flowers are the same, but the density is much higher than the original.”

“How exactly does this work?” Cure asks, looking at the vine-covered wooden frame. It’s a lot larger than he had anticipated. He expected something like a meter wide, two meter tall rose bush, but the structure in front of him, while not much over two tall, seems to be at least three meters across. He supposed that with such large “pixels” as a flower would be, it’s necessary to have a larger canvas as well. “Aren’t they all the same flower? Won’t it just be a wall of one color?”

“They are the same kind of flower, but the vines are specially cultivated so that when they bloom the petals should come in with different colors. Extremely skilled artisans can create a scene with great success, but less experienced growers can use magic to correct the colors after they bloom.”

“Ah, so they get as close as possible initially, then refine the image with magic, basically?”

“Exactly. I am sure you would excel at this, given your talent, but I ask that you refrain from using it until we see the result of Mrs. Vista’s team’s efforts. They had far less time to prepare than is normal, but she assured me it will suffice. I am very excited to see how it turns out!” she exclaims.

Shrugging, Cure nods in understanding. He could cheat pretty easily and use smaller flower petals to more accurately depict a scene, but this is one instance where it may really be considered cheating.

Still, if ponies will pay for this crap it’s just another thing he could sell, not that he’s hurting for ideas anyhow. As he considers this everypony gathers to the side several meters away so they can watch without being too close to the ritual.

Vines, being the center of the formation, takes her place a few meters in front of the trellis. Her husband quickly joins her on her right, smushing his side against her and sharing a brief, intimate moment nuzzling cheeks with his beloved.

Title walks in front of the pair, sharing a soft kiss with her wife, then her husband walking to his right and rubbing her side against him, leaning heavily against the larger, stronger stallion. She leans her head over, pressing the top of her snout against his chin in a nuzzle.

Amethyst is next, repeating the steps, giving and receiving love from each of her spouses before she leans against Vines’ left, sandwiching the mare between herself and their husband.

Lemon pronks over, grabs Deed by the chin, then aggressively and loudly makes out with him for several seconds, getting giggles from Vines and Title and most of the audience. After a moment, over the gagging sounds of their daughters, Amethyst yells, “Damnit, Sweets, get yer plot over here ‘fore I shove a hoof up it! We were havin a moment, ya ignoramus!” The yellow mare blows her wife a raspberry and trots into position while giggling.

The family had long ago sat down to hash out which element each one should focus on. Vines, with her sweet demeanor and gentle heart, is an obvious choice for Kindness. Lemon, always happy to share a sweet treat with anypony, is the most appropriate for Generosity. Amethyst, gruff and straightforward, doesn’t hesitate to display her Honesty.

Deed never hesitated a second to commit himself fully to his beloved or his foal, even when he was only fifteen and barely living on his own. His dedication to giving his family the best life he can despite the challenges he faces make him a great candidate for Loyalty. Title, quick with a joke and eager to join in Cure’s antics, overflows with Laughter.

With everypony in place, they all close their eyes, only to pause when Celestia speaks up. “Does Cure not typically participate?” Turning her neck to look at the foals, she continues, “I had assumed this was something you came up with.”

Cure, standing between the girls with Savvy on his withers, shrugs back to the princess. “I never have before. I’ve done something like it with my dam when we were making the virus tree prototypes. I mean… I guess I can join in,” he weakly agrees. He lays down on his barrel and, with a little coaxing from Starlight, Savvy climbs down to watch from between the dark mare’s forelegs.

Cure trots over to his parents who lay on their barrels. Title and Lemon are quick to hop up on Deed and Amethyst’s withers while he climbs between his dam’s forelegs and presses his dock against her chest, reaching up to plant a kiss on her chin and getting a nuzzle in return.

Cure has never participated in the ritual before, mainly out of concern that he’s so different from the rest he may throw them off somehow. With the princess on standby there’s little reason to fear, though, as there isn’t a more accomplished mage alive as far as anypony knows. Although Loyalty is the virtue he values above all, he knows his sire is focused on that. The only Element remaining resonates well enough with him that he is confident in focusing on Magic.

With everypony in place they close their eyes and focus on their element, cycling their magic and offering it freely to the mare at the center of their formation. The ambient magic in the air, far thicker and more potent than in Golden Hills, responds much more energetically than the family is accustomed to. In a blinding blue flash with a loud “whomp” an expanding arc of magic explodes forth from the green mare, blasting over her son and into the trellis, instantly blooming every flower on the display.

“What the fuck was that?” Drift quietly asks from the middle of the group.

“Wow,” Solar mumbles. “I… did not expect that.”

“Indeed,” Celestia nods in agreement. “That was an amazing display, everypony. I have not felt magic like that… in a very, very long time.”

“Ugh… I feel like crap,” Cure whines, sinking down into the grass. “You okay, dam? Everypony alright?”

“I’m fine, sweetie,” she says, nuzzling into his mane between his ears. “A little tired, I suppose, but that’s normal.”

“Let’s maybe not do that again,” Lemon suggests in a whine.

“Ah feel like I tried ta buck a train,” Amethyst groans. “Me ‘n Sweets ain’t caught up to y’all yet.”

Deed just shrugs, “Yup, you two are still a bit behind. It wasn’t too bad fer me. You alright, babe?” he asks Title.

“I’m good. Kinda hungry again already, but yeah. Not too bad.”

“Part cow,” Cure grumbles. “We talking baseline hungry or actually hungry, ma? You’re never not at least a little hungry.”

“Shattap, brat.”

“Hangry,” he responds knowingly. He hears some mischievous laughing from the group of foals and notices that his parents, aside from his dam, have already moved away. She leans down and kisses just behind his horn, mumbles a quick apology, stands up, and trots away giggling. “Huh?” he asks, looking around as he begins to stand. The trellis scene before him catches his attention before he turns around.

“What the hay?” he asks, tilting his head in confusion. The scene depicts a blue pony with a green mane surrounded by white circles or something. A light impact on his rear causes him to whip around, finding himself in the middle of a half circle of his friends and family. All but the princess are holding pie tins with whipped cream, her having thrown the first shot.

“There will be a reckoning,” he playfully warns as everypony but Title throws theirs; the glutton too busy deciding if she would rather eat it instead, even if it is just a tin of whipped cream. Laughter rings out from everypony as the colt is pelted with pie after pie, especially from the princess who looks exceedingly pleased with herself. Choosing to be a good sport about it, he doesn’t dodge or shield or do anything else but close his eyes and let it all happen.

As the last pie smacks into his face and falls to the ground, the princess saunters up, giggling the whole way. “Did you plan this right after the dinner?” the pile of cream asks as he pans his gaze over the uproariously laughing foals.

“Not originally. I asked them to alter the picture after the bunny incident,” she answers. “I owed you for that and for sneaking into my room, young colt. I happen to have some experience with pulling pranks, I’ll have you know.”

“Fair enough. I can’t deny I’ve had it coming.”

Celestia smiles and lays on her barrel beside him. “Aww, thanks for playing along, Cure. I am quite certain that you could have easily avoided it.”

“Eh, yeah. A shield woulda done the trick just fine. Like I said, I earned it. Is there something in this crap, though? It’s feeling kinda hot.”

Celestia reaches out with a hoof and scoops a bit of cream off, gives it a sniff, then tastes it. “No… it’s just whipped cream. What do you mean hot? They just came out of the refridge…” she stops mid sentence, eyes widening as steam begins billowing off the colt. The whipped cream covering him quickly melts and bubbles on his coat as she jumps to her hooves in alarm.

Breathing heavily, Cure can barely pant out, “I… I’m hot… like…” He looks up, meeting the princess’s eyes with a scared look. “Princess? What’s ha-”

The colt explodes in a white flash, blinding everypony but the princess and blasting her forelegs, chest, and face in runny cream. Blinking her eyes clear, she finds a scorched, swirling pattern of grass with nearly twenty thousand scattered bits, a fountain pen, several blank papers, a knife, a lovely pocket watch, and his staff, planted firmly in the center of the pattern standing erect. Two bit pouches slowly float to the ground, landing to the side.

Struck speechless and completely unprepared, Celestia stares wide-eyed for several seconds, only shaking off the surprise when Cure’s sister, Savvy, toddles over. The pink filly looks back and forth between the princess and the blackened patch a few times, then gives her the most adorable angry scowl ever. She walks right up to the princess’s hoof, rears back a foreleg, and kicks her right above the fetlock before huffing, turning her back, and returning to her dam.

Trailing her sight up from the girl, Celestia has to hold back a laugh at her unsure looking guards, clearly torn as to whether or not some action is required. “Be at ease, sergeant. I am unharmed. Physically, that is.” She gives the filly another look. Savvy has pressed her face into her dam’s tummy, back still turned conspicuously in the princess’s direction. “Though I dare say it has been many, many centuries since such a devastating attack was unleashed upon me.”

Deed seems to be the first to figure out what happened. He looks at the belongings and charred swirl of grass and lets out a sigh, wrapping Vines in a hug and whispering soothingly to her. She freezes and seems to collapse on the spot, stunned more than anything, but not desperately wailing like Celestia would normally expect.

Perhaps her inadvertent mention of ascension the other day would end up being a blessing after all. She had initially been concerned that simply knowing about it could cause the colt to fixate on it, thus ruining his chances of ever finding the way.

The foals are far more distraught with several of them already asking what happened, where is he, and so on.

Title is looking back and forth between the charred patch and the half eaten pie in her hooves in consideration. She finally shrugs and continues lapping it up, casually commenting, “Damn, we definitely should try to steal that cook.”

Amethyst barks out a laugh, nudging Lemon with a challenge. “No shit! I bet yer candies can’t do that, Sweets.” The yellow mare plays along, kicking idly at the ground in an exaggerated pout.

His dam and sire seem pretty normal, but the rest of the family is obviously crazy, she concludes.

“Cure Wave is unharmed,” Celestia assures everypony, approaching the group while waving a wing for her guards to back away. She casts a Sound Bubble, careful to surround only Cure’s friends and family as she explains, “He has truly ascended to become a genuine alicorn. I will depart shortly to guide and retrieve him. Worry not; he will be back in a few hours, at most, and will be completely fine. This is a momentous occasion for the entirety of our nation!” she jubilantly shouts.

“He’s okay?” Dawn asks hopefully.

Nodding, she reassures the filly. “Yes, he is okay. I will need to leave you all-” she stops, pausing as she senses a shift in the magic of the world. Looking up towards the mountain, she dispels the Sound Bubble to find thunderous rumbling shaking the heavens, rattling every pane of glass in her city and beyond. “So quickly?” she wonders aloud.

Directly above Canterlot, unobscured by Cloudsdale to the northwest, a building-sized tear in the sky opens and, from the gap in the world, out slithers an enormous, ethereal blue and green serpent, coiling around nothing as it is birthed into existence. As the tail emerges the hole closes and the serpent screeches a loud, roaring hiss as it seems to solidify; the simplified image of a familiar tree appearing from within its coils and branching out above its head.

Cries of panic can be heard in the distance; klaxons sound and bells ring out summoning the cities’ defenders as they are called into readiness. Civilian traffic between the cloud and mountain cities disappears instantly as armored squads of pegasi scramble to form a defensive perimeter, bravely interposing themselves between their charges and the terrifying entity.

“Of course,” Celestia sighs, “Stars forbid I have time to warn everypony.”

Finished with its intimidating display, the serpent dispels the tree, turning its head towards the castle. With speed impossible for mortal creatures, the snake launches itself directly at the group, slamming into the ground just before the princess and exploding in a flash of blue, leaving behind a blinking, stunned alicorn colt.

As Cure’s vision clears he finds himself standing in front of the princess, almost exactly where he was just minutes earlier. Looking up to the ancient mare, he casually waves a wing in greeting. “Sup, boss?”

“Really, Cure?” Title disappointedly calls.

“For my next trick, I’ll need a brave volunteer from the audience,” he yells back, chortling at the end. “So… what’d I miss? Oh! Sweet! My stuff’s okay!” he shouts, trotting over and plucking the staff, along with everything else, from the ground. “Wonder why it dumped my bags,” he mumbles as he reaches into one pouch, then the other. “Hay! My materials and crystals are gone!” he shouts. “Damnit! Where’d all my shit go?!” he growls just as he’s bowled over by a group of relieved foals.

It had taken several long minutes for everypony to calm down. After being nearly crushed under the pile, then squeezed to death by his dam’s embrace, the stumbling colt and his family are escorted to Celestia’s office while the others return to their rooms to prepare to head out for the day. Despite the unexpected event, Cure insists that everypony continue on as normal, at least as much as possible, and enjoy their last day in the capital.

It had taken Celestia only a few minutes to give the “All Clear” order. The pegasi guards providing her escort were able to quickly find and notify the lieutenant and captain, and from there it was simple to dispatch pegasi messengers to the rallying second lieutenants, staff sergeants, and sergeants across the city to tell them to stand down.

Much like the room he’d already met with her in once, the princess’s office has a conference table. It also has all the markings of somepony who works for a living. A large desk is sat close to, but not directly in front of a set of wood and glass doors leading to a balcony. A large Equestrian flag hangs directly behind it.

Two large file cabinets are against the wall behind and to the side of the desk and, on the opposite wall, dozens of rolled maps are tucked into an upright, labeled filing system. The one of Fillydelphia is spread, hanging on pegs from the wall. A single chair for a bipedal sits opposite the desk flanked on either side by couches, the three forming a semicircle facing it.

“I kinda liked the staff,” Cure says in a weak whine. “I hope Ferric isn’t upset. She spent a lot of time on that thing.”

“I think she’ll understand, son.”

Title looks at the new mark on Cure’s flank and asks, “Is that normal?”

“It… is,” Celestia slowly confirms.

“Unicorn?” Cure asks, getting a confirming nod from the princess. “Totally called it,” he says with a proud smile.

Lemon looks to her right, past Amethyst, at the princess. “I figured you were born an alicorn.”

“Most ponies assume such,” she answers with a shrug.

“I was almost sure you couldn’t have been since you said ‘ascension’ the other day. Honestly, though, I had kinda wondered after the first time I opened the door and found ya standin there a few months back.”

“Oh?”

“Yep. Your frame isn’t quite right for a tall earth pony or a pegasus. I haven’t seen a tall mare yet, but it seems to me that you’re a little too narrow at the shoulders,” he says, motioning across his chest, “and I would assume a pegasus that ascends is probably a smidge shorter even after the fact. Plus you said everypony in your family were unicorns.

“If you were born an alicorn then the possibility of ascension wouldn’t be a thing you would even consider. Well, I guess unless she,” he waves at the flag, “did it afterwards. Of course, now that I’ve gotten a look at alicorn cells I’m confident nopony could ever be born one. Well, not of parents from another tribe, at least,” he qualifies.

“I have only had a few ponies make similar observations in many, many years, Cure.”

“Most ponies probably aren’t as intimately familiar with the female…” he pauses, eyes widening. “Oh wow, that isn’t gonna sound right.”

Through giggles, Title encourages him, “No, no. Go ahead. What were you saying?”

Sighing, Cure continues, “Screw it, I don’t even care. Most ponies aren’t as familiar with the female body as I am.”

The statement gets snickers from four of the parents. Vines, still recovering from the traumatic experience of seeing her colt explode, is sat behind him, wrapping her forelegs around him in a protective hug.

Savvy, similarly upset, is sitting between his forelegs, sitting on her haunches hugging under his wings around his barrel fast asleep. Aware of how upset his sister was, Cure is gently petting down her back and mane as she smashes her face in his belly. Lemon and Amethyst took the spots to his right while Title and Deed are on his left.

“What did you mean about it being impossible to be born an alicorn?” Celestia asks.

“From non-alicorn parents,” he clarifies. “There is no way possible for anypony but an alicorn to have an alicorn foal, at least biologically speaking. They would be more likely to have a dragon or a freakin hyena pop out from what I can tell. At least, based on what I’m seeing in myself.”

“Could you check, please?” she asks, looking at him in concern.

“I could scan you right now,” he says, motioning to his horn, “if that’s okay?” At her nod he scans the princess, finding that her cellular structure is nearly identical to his own now; presumably the differences being gender and, possibly, age-related since he is still physically immature.

“Yeah, we’re totally different species. Not just species, even… we’re just… like, not even remotely the same. We might as well be pony shaped aliens. I’m pretty sure I couldn’t even give somepony a transfusion without killing them.”

“You can not,” Celestia says. “It was attempted. Once. With disastrous results.”

“Ah. Sorry to hear, highness,” he softly replies. He gives her a second before continuing. “So yeah, unless some magical weirdness happens, a foal could never be born an alicorn unless, I’m guessing, both parents are. I seriously doubt an alicorn could impregnate a non-alicorn, or vice versa, of course. I mean, the blood type thing alone would cause massive complications.”

“No wonder,” Celestia softly says, visibly deflating at the revelation.

“You won’t be able to have foals?!” Vines all but cries.

Scoffing, he waves the issue away. “Of course I’ll be able to have foals. Don’t worry about that, dam.”

Title looks between the colt and the princess, glancing back and forth a few times. Celestia notices her look and catches her meaningful glance back to the colt. She blushes brilliantly, eliciting a barked laugh from the pink mare.

“We will discuss that when you are older!” the princess shouts, glowing red.

Confused at the outburst, Cure cocks a brow and tilts his head at the mare. “Uhh… what?” He briefly looks to his left, finding Title almost burying herself below the table shaking in laughter.

“I am not prepared to discuss this topic!” she insists. “We may broach it again at some point, but not until you are at least an adult!”

“Well I wasn’t plannin on havin foals until I was twenty or so anyhow… maybe older. Dunno,” he adds with a shrug. “The whole longer life thing makes that kind of a lower priority, sort of.”

Exhaling in relief, the princess nods in acceptance. “I am relieved. I have always wished to have a foal, so I am not prepared to dismiss the idea at some point, but even the discussion, given your age, discomforts me immensely.”

The statement is met by a horrible lingering silence, aside from the snorted giggling under the table, as everypony stares at the increasingly blushing princess.

“I think tha colt meant he can use his talent ta have foals with normal ponies, princess,” Amethyst tactfully explains.

Celestia’s eyes bulge out, staring in shock at the slowly nodding foal. She sags, laying her chest and neck on the table glowing nearly violet in a blush. She closes her eyes and covers her head with both forelegs, leaving them in place until everypony stops snickering and her blush subsides. It is several minutes before she sits back up, still sporting a faint pink dusting on her cheeks.

“I have, in all my centuries of life, only been so mortified on a hooffull of occasions,” she stoically confesses.

“Aww, don’t worry yerself, highness,” Deed assures her, reaching out to pat her right forehoof. “Tha colt tends ta have that kinda stuff just happen ‘round ‘em. It was just a misunderstandin.”

“Yes… Well, as flattered as I may be,” Cure slowly begins, “We’re leavin tomorrow and we got a lot to get done. I need to get stuff for the lieutenant’s suit, maybe hit a bookstore or a library, then I gotta go crystal shopping too. I still can’t believe I lost that mid-high! Five thousand bits, just gone!”

“I suspect that provided much of the energy you required,” Celestia suggests, still struggling to even look in his direction. “Those have half again the capacity of a typical adult unicorn. A civilian one, at least. What else did you have on you?”

“Four mids, sixteen mid-low, and ten low.”

Now fully sitting upright and looking at him in something like horror, she asks, “... Why in the world were you carrying over thirty crystals?!”

“Well the mids each had a teleport to escape, the mid-low were split between shields for physical and energy attacks, and the lows were mostly firebolts with a couple concussive Missiles mixed in.”

“No stuns, babe?” Title asks.

“I figured if they weren’t shielded I could take them out with my talent, and if they were -”

“- then stun wouldn’t work anyhow,” she finishes in an understanding nod.

“Yep.”

Celestia quickly adds everything up. “So all told you were carrying approximately two experienced mages worth of charged crystals?”

“Sounds about right,” he nods.

“And you had them on you while participating in a ritual?”

“Uhh… sort of? I hadn’t planned on it, though! Wait a second… did you know that was going to happen?”

“I did not!” she vehemently insists.

He holds his hooves up in surrender. “Okay, fair, I mean… if anypony would know I would expect it to be you. And you are the one that suggested I join in.”

“To be honest, I was unsure if a stallion, or a colt, even could ascend. I had only assumed you joined your family and inquired as such,” she defends. “Besides, I suspect you may know this; what is one of the first steps in performing a ritual?”

The colt gains a faraway look for a moment, then cringes. “Removing items that could react in unexpected ways?”

“Exactly! You are immensely fortunate, young colt. I care not to think how poorly that could have gone!” After a second’s thought she adds, “I’m rather surprised your compressed bags are intact as well, given that the contents spilled. It’s almost as if something was violently removed from them during your ascension, though they appear undamaged.”

It dawns on Cure that she is exactly right. It is just as if his extra mass, which was, for all intents, part of his body, was violently removed from the bags, bringing their contents out at the same time.

Seeking to avoid that line of questioning, Cure admits, “I kinda didn’t think about the crystals, to be honest. Like I said, I’ve never participated before, and I always keep them on me just in case.” The statement gets a curious look from the princess, so he explains, “I figured throwing in a foal with much lower magic capacity than the other adult members would… I dunno? Throw off the balance or whatever?”

“Ah. Not a completely unfounded presumption. To clarify, what you were doing was not the standard definition of a ritual, exactly. It was more of a… shared casting, I suppose, is the closest comparison.

“In a legitimate ritual the ritual diagram must be properly structured to account for variables such as participant capacity and so forth. To fail to do so can cause significant, possibly permanent harm to somepony by overdrawing from them. When no diagram was drawn or requested I had assumed you were not conducting what I would define as a ritual.”

Celestia’s gaze pans over the parents, all of whom save Title are barely showing signs of comprehension. Cure, at least, is paying rapt attention, but then foals are typically far more eager to learn. It is almost a wonder, she thinks, that he did not get a cutie mark related to magic. Then again, staves used to be signs of powerful mages, and the tree itself now adorns his flanks.

Sighing, Celestia refocuses the conversation. “Regardless, we have much to discuss and, unless all plans for the day are canceled…?” She continues once everypony looks to Cure who is shaking his head no. The parents look back, clearly not disagreeing with the foal. Odd how much they defer to his judgment, but he clearly is a born leader. “Very well, first and foremost we must discuss plans in regards to young Cure’s future.”

“What plans? Nothin’s changed,” he quickly interrupts.

“I beg to differ!” the princess argues in a raised voice. “Very much has changed! You are a genuine alicorn now, Cure. That changes everything!”

With furrowed brows, Cure slowly shakes his head. “No it doesn’t. What were the plans if that,” he waves a hoof towards the balcony, “hadn’t happened?” Celestia barely opens her mouth to respond, but he carries on regardless. “I was going to go home tomorrow and, at some point, probably when I’m ten or so, look at buyin a place in town and all of us movin. Or just havin a second home, whichever,” he says, barely shrugging his trapped wings. “What changed?”

“A blue and green serpent the size of the capital ripped the sky a new hole and showed off yer cutie mark,” Amethyst helpfully supplies in a deadpan. “Every paper in the city, and probably the country, is gonna have it on their front page, I bet, even without an official statement saying the cause.”

“Ah! But Cure Wave’s cutie mark has a snake coiled around a staff, not around a tree!” In only a few seconds his wings are obscured, his horn is retracted, and his original mark is restored, though it takes a couple nudges for his dam to loosen her grip enough for him to turn and show them, still holding his sister to his barrel. With brows hiked into his maneline he repeats, “So I ask again… what’s changed?”

“But… you’re an alicorn!” Celestia nearly whines.

“You had already planned on changing my status beforehoof,” he argues, retaking his seat. “That’s not a change. I already was an alicorn. Sort of.”

“My guards were there, Cure! They witnessed everything, as did any present members of the grounds crew!”

“Yeah, but half the castle staff has already seen an alicorn colt runnin around anyhow. You said your staff here at the castle wouldn’t blab about my identity. In fact, I believe your exact words were,” his voice suddenly shifts to mimic her own, “Those ponies understand discretion.” Finished with the short quote, he raises a single brow in challenge.

“There’s discretion when a group of typical foals spends a few days here; that is to be expected. It is a very different story when an alicorn colt flirts with the staff, is seen leaving my bedchambers before sunrise, turns into a rabbit version of myself, is… partially… responsible for several hundred damaged windows and other glass items, then blankets the entire city in a coiled, hissing serpent before lunging at the castle!”

“Well pardon me for not being all boring like everypony else! Just cause I like ta keep things interesting,” he trails off grumbling.

After a moment’s silence he snuggles back against his dam and leans up for a quick nuzzle into her chin. The genuine smile on the mare warms Celestia’s heart as she watches. Vines turns her head, running her cheek across his mane, between her son’s ears and over his muzzle, wiggling slightly in joy.

Several seconds of silence pass as the group collects their thoughts.

“How’s about this,” Deed starts, drawing everypony’s attention but his wife’s. She continues to nuzzle and groom her son as he continues, “We talked it over an’ would be happy ta come back fer the Summer Sun Celebration next month if that’s still okay,” he pauses to wait for the princess’s eager, beaming-smile nod. “We can see how everythin’s goin from there ‘n if need be, decide on changes then.”

Lemon nods and turns to face the princess. “What exactly were you going to propose anyhow, highness?”

“I honestly hadn’t had time to consider. Clearly I need to teach him about the changes he is going to go through.”

“What changes?” Vines warily asks.

Celestia scrunches her snout in thought and, after a moment’s consideration she hesitantly explains, “I normally would insist that this information be only shared amongst us,” she waves a hoof between Cure and herself, “and I will demand your silence outside of these walls,” she pauses until everypony nods, “but Cure will likely, in the coming years, gain a… perception, of a sort.”

“Like… I’ll be able to sense stuff?”

“That is essentially correct. I, for example, can perceive distant events while my sun is overhead. None who bathe in my sun’s warmth may hide from my perception, should I be looking for them.”

“Huh. So at night or if somepony is inside… ?”

Nodding, she answers, “They are obscured. I must take care, though, as having the full attention of the sun is… well, it is as you may suspect.”

“So… it’s like puttin somepony under a magnifying glass?”

“An apt analogy, yes,” she agrees. “With all that entails. As the sun’s warmth is benign when shared across the world, when focused on a single being,” she trails off.

“Gotchya. So you can peek in on wide areas but gaze too intently at a specific pony and it gets a might bit toasty. I’m guessing your… I don’t want to make assumptions. Friend? Former friend?” he asks, looking at the flag again.

“I…” she pauses again as she regards her sister’s image, looking back a moment later at the focused stares on everypony’s face.

Reaching over, Amethyst places a hoof on the distraught mare’s foreleg. “Ya don’t hafta share if ya don’t wanna, princess. Ain’t nopony here wantin ta upset ya.”

Cure, realizing the trauma is still significant, quickly apologizes. “Sorry, princess. What I was going to say is that she, I would presume, could do something similar with the moon. How do you think that will work with me, then?”

Celestia nods in answer. “You are essentially correct. If I had to guess, I would theorize that perhaps you will gain a similar awareness of life; likely within some proximity to yourself. As to what affects your concentrated attention may bring, I can only theorize it may be beneficial rather than harmful.”

“Huh. Boss lady gets the orbital beam attack and I get a souped up heal ray.”

The princess’s gaze sharpens in an instant and locks directly on to the flippant colt. “I cannot begin to express how strongly I wish I could do what you do, Cure. How many times I would have given anything to have been able to in the past. Words will never suffice to describe the suffering I have witnessed that you shall never need abide.”

“Sorry, boss, I was only joking. I wouldn’t trade it for anything, honest. Trust me, I know how easy it is to cause harm; I don’t need any help in that department.”

His assurance causes the mare’s countenance to soften, giving him an understanding nod.

“So… I’ll be able to perceive something at some point in the next few years and, if I concentrate on somepony too hard something may happen to them, be it good or bad. I mean… noted?” he says with a casual shrug. “I don’t get why that means our plans hafta change at all.”

“I suppose they do not,” she slowly concedes. “I do not have a logical reason to require you to be nearby. Call it protective instincts, if you must. There has not been another alicorn for a very long time. Pragmatically, I have no reason to be concerned for your safety, whether you are here or in Golden Hills.”

“Cool. Anything else I need to be aware of?”

“You’ll eventually begin to feel almost as if you have a second source of magic within you. It is not harmful or innately dangerous when used properly, but I will have to show you how to tap into it. That won’t be significant until after you’ve matured some. Other than that… I suppose nothing urgent. It will be far more important that you remain in control of your emotions, but given what I’ve seen thus far I do not have grave concerns regarding your temperament. I assume you have noticed a difference in regards to your magic?”

“Yeah, I’m probably almost caught up with Dawn now. Dunno, I’ve avoided tryin to do anything so far. I’m guessin my magic growth will speed up some, huh?”

“Certainly. I do not know to what degree, but you should far outpace even a powerful unicorn. I must emphasize that you be extremely cautious with any offensive spellwork, Cure. In fact, I would like to spend the day working with you to ensure you have a good grasp on your capabilities.”

She looks to the parents and, in a more forceful tone, explains, “If Cure struggles with control I will have to insist he remain here until he improves. If it is necessary, I would welcome any or all of you to stay until I can be sure he is not a danger to himself or anypony else, but I cannot simply send him back to Golden Hills without ensuring he can control his magic.”

“That’s reasonable,” Cure instantly agrees. “Dad, Title, and Lemon probably need to get back to their jobs and somepony needs to watch the girls. I may need one of you to reach out to the customers I have scheduled from Tuesday on if I struggle. Mom?” he asks, looking at Amethyst.

“You bet, colt. If yer dam needs ta stick around here I can take care ‘a everythin at home, no problem.”

“I’ll stay with you if need be, sweetie.”

“Excellent. Thank you for being so understanding. I admit, I was concerned you would argue it unnecessary.”

“No way, boss. I’ve avoided usin any magic ‘cause I don’t wanna… I dunno? Accidentally supercharge a light spell and blind somepony? Go ta lift somethin and throw it through the ceiling? What exactly should I expect, anyhow?”

“Those are valid possibilities, though I would expect the light spell to simply destabilize and explode instead. You could channel too much magic through your horn too quickly and fire an accidental, unaimed blast.”

“Please don’t do that,” Title solemnly requests.

“No doubt,” he voices with a frown. “Definitely don’t wanna accidentally blow somepony’s head off. That’s my schtick anyhow.” The comment gets a scowl and an extra hard squeeze from his dam, despite the innocent smile he leans up and gives her.

“Alright,” Deed voices, “Sounds like we got a plan. So, what’s the story with the raid yesterday?”

“Ah, yes,” Celestia pauses, her horn glowing gold for a moment until, in a flash, a stack of folders appears on the table in front of her. “Lieutenant Spear left at eleven o’clock with a full platoon of guards. Upon her arrival at the train station she immediately detected the scent marker you used. Her timing ended up being quite fortuitous, as the trees were being stowed on an outbound train headed for Bitsburgh departing at noon.

“She ordered two squads, lead by Staff Sergeant Still, to remove their armor and surreptitiously board the train and follow the plants while she herself followed their trail from the station.”

“Ah… she probably shoulda gone with ‘em. That trail will stay strong for at least a month.”

“I would ask that you be more forthcoming with such relevant facts in the future, Cure,” she curtly responds. He’s quick to give a conciliatory nod and apologize. “Despite that, the lieutenant followed the trail to a home in the northeast quadrant of the city; a rather wealthy and exclusive part of town.

“Warrant in hoof, Lt. Spear was able to ascertain who had taken temporary possession of the trees, likely to hide them overnight, and arranged transport out of the city. The three with whom you spoke were mere minions, paid a few thousand bits to play a part. Though impersonating a Royal Guard is a crime they will likely only face light prosecution.”

“They didn’t do anything violent, so, yeah… that sounds fair,” he agrees.

“Indeed. Sgt. Still was successful in coordinating with the local guard units in Bitsburgh. He followed your trees to their destination and, since directly witnessing the transit of stolen property, did not have to wait for any kind of warrant to execute a search.

“Your trees have been recovered and the receiving party, a research director, has been apprehended. The company’s other executives are denying any involvement, though their internal memorandums are still being reviewed by the local guard unit to ensure their honesty.”

“Huh. Okay… what company?”

“You do not need to know that information, Cure.”

“What?” he nearly shrieks.

“I will not have you seeking some kind of vengeance upon those responsible. Do not think for an instant that I am not perceptive, young colt. I have known your kind before. There is a time and a place for such acts, but their actions do not warrant, nor do they require, your direct involvement.”

“Fine!” he growls in a huff. “Bear Drug Co. is the only big one headquartered in Bitsburgh anyhow. Musta been them.” The assertion gets an impressed and slightly worried look from the princess. “Know thy enemy, highness.”

Vines explains his knowledge. “He researched anypony he thought may be responsible after his trees were stolen. Pharmaceutical companies, medical equipment manufacturers, and so forth.”

“I see,” she says begrudgingly, somewhat impressed. “I forbid you from taking direct action here, Cure,” she sternly commands. “Do you understand?”

Scowling back at the ancient mare has no effect. She, unlike most ponies, is not even the slightest bit intimidated by an angry look. “Fine. They’re not on my list anyhow. I’ve still got some issues with the jerks that sent mercenaries to foalnap me though.”

“My order stands, Cure. No direct action on your part unless I approve it. Given the circumstances, that is highly unlikely. You will have more autonomy as you grow, but you are just a foal,” she finishes in a raised voice, tapping her hoof on the table with each word.

“Come on! They all but tried to kill me! It’s their fault that idiot subcontracted freaking minotaurs and sent them at my family! I can’t even imagine what you would do if they threatened somepony you cared about.”

The statement gets a deep frown from the mare and, with a genuinely hurt look she says, “I care very much about your wellbeing, Cure. More than you can imagine. For the safety of all of you,” she adds, looking to the parents as well. Turning back to meet his softened look, she continues, “But you are no longer in danger. Whoever sent them had months to prepare and knew better than to make an attempt in your home town.”

“Ugh, emotional manipulation. Totally unfair,” Cure sighs. “You know exactly what I mean, princess.”

She lets out a sigh and gives a small nod. “As for the ponies who were sent after you, we have had little success in gaining any useful information. Green Slip’s attorney met with him for a few hours yesterday and filed a motion for him to be released on his own recognizance.” The suggestion causes alarmed looks from the parents and a curious one from the colt. “It will be denied, of course, simply based on the testimony from the minotaurs, his own employees, and the seriousness of the charges.”

With a shrug she adds, “It’s a standard legal maneuver. Sometimes somepony will get lucky and have a lenient judge grant it, but with crimes against a foal that will not happen. They know I would immediately dismiss them from their position if they were to do so.”

“Have you considered letting him out and following him to see who he meets with? Maybe have some paperwork conveniently get mixed up so it doesn’t blow back on the judge or set a bad precedent. I would assume he would try to contact whoever hired him, at least to try to blackmail them to get him outta the country.”

The question gets a thoughtful frown from the mare. Slowly, she admits, “That is an interesting idea, but I had not. I would be concerned with him getting away were we to do so.”

“I put a scent marker in his mane like my plants.”

The princess fully sets the papers on the table and rubs at her forehead with a hoof. After a moment, she stops and meets the colt’s eyes. “Is there anything else you’re not telling me, Cure? I know you would not lie to me, and I understand everypony has a right to their own privacy, but in regards to this investigation I would appreciate you being more forthright.”

He shrugs in response, explaining, “I only did it ‘cause I was worried he may have somepony workin in the Guard that would help him escape. Honestly I kinda wish I’d done the same with all the others, but I do have their scents either way.” In a sincere voice he explains, “It didn’t seem relevant until now, highness.”

Sighing, she slowly nods her head in acceptance. “I suppose it was not. I will come right out and ask, then… In your repertoire of capabilities, can you think of any other ways you may be able to help this investigation?”

“None you would be okay with.”

The answer gets a concerned look from the mare. “How do you mean?”

“I… don’t want to upset anypony, but my talent could be used to extract information from somepony, I’m guessing, very effectively without doing any physical harm. At least, not permanently.”

“No, I would not condone such a thing.”

“And I would not do such a thing,” he immediately responds. “At least, not under almost any circumstances. Maybe engineered scenarios, and such.”

“Pardon?”

Title jumps in to answer. “We were talking about cutie marks and Cure suggested there’s likely not any that reflect an activity that has no possible ‘good’ to it. He made a valid point that, if you really think about it, there’s a scenario you could come up with, even if it’s basically impossible to occur naturally, where almost any act could result in a positive. An engineered scenario.”

“I am not sure I would agree.”

“It’s not a pleasant conversation topic,” Cure points out, “but we’re getting off topic. The bottom line is that I can’t think of anything specific to help right now that I would be willing to do given the circumstances. I’m making suggestions as ideas come. Really, I’m not trying to be difficult. It’s not like I’ve ever investigated a crime before.

“I will tell you that my senses are all far better than even your own. Except sight; that’s about the same, though I can telescope my eyes like eagles. Smelling and hearing are far better, not to mention other senses ponies don’t typically have like heat sense.”

“Duplicates of creatures in nature?” she asks.

“Yep. Dogs, cats, moths, mosquitos, and so forth. Remember I told you I asked for directions when I brought you breakfast?”

“Yes… I assume you did not need to?”

“Right. I did ask anyway just so nopony would wonder why I was wandering around the halls. And so they knew what I was doing. Unless you took special measures like teleporting long distance or covering your scent I could find you across the city, probably.”

“I see. Interesting.” She takes a moment to consider the option, lets out a small sigh, and slowly nods. “Very well. I’ll discuss the matter with Cpt. Shield and Lt. Spear. With your blessing,” she looks to the parents, all of whom nod in agreement, “and if the captain agrees then I will arrange it next week.

“The zebras are still being obstinate, but with charges of terrorism, attempted foalnapping, attempted destruction of royal property, and possession of banned substances… Well, they won’t be going anywhere for a long, long time. We are working to determine whether they were here at the employ of a specific tribe or at the behest of the legitimate government, but given their ambassador’s unhelpfulness thus far, I have my suspicions.”

“Any word on how that researcher knew about my trees?”

“Ah! Yes! Here,” she pulls out a report to read. “Apparently somepony sold that information to the company. That’s why we’re confident he was not working alone. If we can identify who the recipient of that information was we are confident we can determine the source and, ultimately, who may be distributing your identity. I am prepared to grant clemency in exchange for their cooperation in identifying the seller. Relatively speaking, the theft of a decoy tree is minor in comparison.”

“The only ponies that know much about my capabilities are your guards and the Baltimare RHA. And, I suppose, some of my coworkers at the clinic may have an inkling. They knew I’d be comin for the Wonderbolts opener too, but not about the trees. I doubt any of my cosmetic customers would make the assumption I’m the same pony and they wouldn’t know I was traveling. Is there a way to subpoena financial records to see if anypony that I work with has had a few large, unexplained deposits over the last four months?”

The princess pauses for a moment and casts a critical eye at the colt. “That… is a fantastic idea. Again, your breadth of knowledge amazes me, Cure. Someday you will have to share with me how you are so well informed.”

“I’ve read a lot,” he casually answers, fortunately able to fight back the uncomfortable squirm from her long stare.

“I believe you,” she lightly assures him, tactfully expressing that she does not believe that to be the full story. “I will issue an order for the banks in Baltimare and surrounding areas to cooperate with Captain Stance in her investigation. If anypony at the hospital or clinic has been selling your information then I will be most displeased.”

“Me too.”

“I’m sure. And I reiterate; I do not want you taking direct action, Cure.”

“Fine!” he huffs.

“Ya mentioned an officer as a pony of interest,” Deed remembers. “I’m guessin somepony has looked inta their finances?”

“Not yet. That will be done as part of the larger investigation. If there’s somepony out there selling Cure’s information it is entirely possible the officer is innocent. That they are related to a pharmaceutical executive may simply be coincidence.”

“Or they may be who sent the thief that hit my party.”

“A possibility we’ve considered,” she agrees.

“Is selling information even a crime?” Title asks. “I mean… it sounds sketchy, but what about that is actually illegal?”

“It is not,” Celestia answers, “unless it is being sold specifically with the intent, expected, or likely outcome of endangering somepony. In this case, the obvious result of selling information about a pony that could cost a company or country significant revenue is to endanger that pony.

“The seller, in this instance, can be held responsible for aiding and abetting the resultant crime; specifically, foalnapping, theft, and destruction of property. They may not have considered that when selling the information, but it is the end result nonetheless.”

“Ah,” the pink mare nods in understanding. “That makes sense.” After a second’s thought her eyes widen in realization. “Oh wow! Somepony could be on the hook for some serious sh… stuff and they probably have no idea.”

“I suspect they have some idea,” Celestia gently corrects, “though perhaps not.” Seeing the confusion on everypony else’s face, she explains, “Aiding and abetting a crime carries the same punishment as the crime itself. I would hope that somepony is not so avaricious as to risk their very life or their freedom for whatever paltry amount they were given, but…” she drifts off, waving to the folders in front of her.

“True. I wonder how much they made. And if they sold to the zebras as well. I bet they woulda paid a fortune to know.”

“Hopefully we will soon find out. I will send the command immediately.” Her horn flashes and an official looking scroll appears on the table in front of her. Levitating her quill, she writes out several lines, then uses the spell Cure recognizes from the other night to sign and stamp it.

She rolls it up, materializes an envelope, casts something on the envelope itself, pauses to shoot him a wink when she notices his attention, then crams the scroll into the envelope before casting some spell that incinerates it and launches the resulting smoke through the crack between the balcony doors.

“Showoff,” he quietly mumbles.

She gives him a smug smile, then says, “That is actually a spell I can teach you eventually, Cure. There are some things that alicorns can do that are simply not possible for unicorns. This and other such abilities draw from the second pool you will begin developing.”

“Oh?”

“Mmhmm. It may be some time before you are able to send anything terribly far, though. With you being a foal, not to mention newly ascended, I am sure your abilities are rather limited for now. At the very least I can now send you messages directly.”

Title asks, “How long does it take for an alicorn to grow in that capacity?”

“He will steadily grow in power for many many decades, but I expect his growth during his developmental years to be significant. Though I admit, our experience with such is extremely limited.”

“Right, makes sense,” she acknowledges with a nod. “Is he gonna stay a foal longer?”

The question gets very different responses from Cure and Vines. The colt’s still fur-covered wings nearly pop out in a panic, held still only by his dam’s tightened embrace. Vines, meanwhile, lights up in joy, renewing her squeezing and nuzzling of her son. The other four get a quick laugh out of the flummoxed colt’s alarm.

“I do not believe so,” Celestia answers. “She…” she pauses, weighing her words, “... my sister,” she says, continuing despite the hitch in her voice, “ascended younger than I. She matured at a normal pace despite the change.”

“Damn, yer parents must’a been somethin,” Cure notes. “Not a single pony ascends, like… ever, then they have two daughters pull it off? Them’s some quality genes right there.”

Smiling fondly, Celestia nods in agreement. “They were wonderful ponies. I will never not miss them. It was our dam’s sacrifice that provided the push,” she finishes, gaining a far away look. Everypony remains quiet as a solemn atmosphere descends on the room. Celestia closes her eyes, reliving some event from millenia ago. Several long seconds pass in silence until she takes a deep breath, then lets out a long sigh.

“Would a hug help, princess?” Title softly offers.

With a hopeful look, she nods to the pink mare. It only takes a moment for a pile to surround the princess, hugging her from all sides as she sits on her haunches and wraps her forelegs and wings around three moms and his sire. Still holding his dozing sister, Cure looks on in envy.

It takes a moment, but the group eventually disperses, retaking their seats and leaving behind a slightly smiling princess. She mumbles a soft thanks before clearing her throat. “It will probably be at least five years before your mane and tail start changing, by the way.”

“Oh, fudge! I hadn’t even thought of that! Can you hide it? Well, I mean, obviously you can…”

“You can, yes. You do need an outlet of some kind, though, be it via magic use, pushing yourself in flight, or through your talent. Please take care, though. You must become accustomed to the changes now that you have the ability to use pegasus magic. Despite your aptitude with flight you will still need to learn how to control the weather as well. Perhaps a semester at the local pegasus school would be helpful.”

“Can I only take those classes? I don’t need math and stuff.”

“I am aware. I believe that can be arranged, yes. The school year is almost over, so perhaps starting in the fall?”

“The girls’ll be thrilled, sport.”

“I’m sure they would be,” he agrees, “but I may just hire a tutor instead. I don’t plan on being a weatherpony and, really, princess, how often do you need to go out and push clouds around?”

“Not often,” she concedes. “Though in an emergency I would be remiss if I could not contribute.” Sighing softly, she agrees, “If you do not wish to attend a traditional school then I suppose a tutor will suffice. I am certain Captain Stance has somepony she can recommend if you would like.”

“Maybe I can just check with Sgt. Bulwark? Or, Glacial’s sire is a weatherpony. I bet he knows somepony that could tutor me for a few extra bits or whatever.”

“Very well. Inform me if you have difficulty finding one. I will arrange for it myself if necessary.”

“Cool. Thanks, princess.”

“Certainly,” she says with a nod. “One thing I suspect you’ll be quite relieved about; you should be highly resistant to mental influence now. I know you had expressed concern about that specifically. Only another alicorn could even potentially succeed, so you need not worry about that.”

“Are you sure we’re the only ones?”

Celestia pauses, brows furrowing in consideration. “I suppose it is possible there may be others. I can’t fathom why they would hide. Or how, for that matter. Your own ascension was, after all, quite unsubtle. That was one of my first thoughts upon seeing your horn and wings on Thursday; how was I not informed? Between our introduction and dinner I had sent a missive to Captain Stance inquiring if any such a display occurred and was not reported.”

The statement gets a cringe from the colt. He hadn’t considered that he may be getting somepony in trouble, but at least his widely verified ascension should get anypony in Baltimare off the hook.

“Speaking of your ascension, how is it that you were able to return so quickly? I was moments away from coming to guide you before… that,” she waves to the balcony, “happened.”

“I just wanted to see my family,” he answers with a shrug. “I just kinda… willed it, I guess? I dunno.”

“That is how it works,” she agrees. “And that is how you can return there, as well.”

“So… we could basically meet in there whenever?”

Celestia pauses, brow furrowed in thought. “I hadn’t considered using the astral realm as a means of communication, but yes. It could serve as such.”

“Can you tell when I go there?”

“I should be able to, yes. Again, that is why I was so surprised. I could feel when you were about to return as well. It may be a while before you develop the senses needed to tell when I do the same.”

“Wanna set up a schedule, then? Maybe every Sunday just after sunset? Even if it’s a two minute, ‘All is well, see ya next week’ thing at least you’ll have a way to make sure I’m not causing too much trouble.”

“That sounds wonderful. Be careful where you travel from though. You will normally return to the same spot upon your return. We accidentally discovered that if an object is in the way it is quite violently thrown aside, including other ponies, so I recommend designating a clear spot for that.”

“So don’t do it on the train, babe,” Title teasingly suggests. The idea gets cringes from everypony when they realize the implications.

“Well… that sounds like a heck of an escape route too,” Cure observes.

“There should never be a reason for you to utilize it as such, but I suppose so.” The statement gets a confused look from everypony. She deflates slightly with a sigh and, almost reluctantly, explains, “I had not wanted to broach this subject until later, but… alicorns, as far as we know, cannot perish. At least, not permanently.”

If Cure had been told that, at that moment, every atom in the room had frozen in place, he would sincerely believe it. He nearly has to check to ensure his heart is still beating. He’s only sure his parents are okay due to his dam’s quiet gasp and slightly tightened hold.

“I…” he begins, unsure how to even finish. “Huh. That may be the most terrifying thing I’ve ever heard. Ever.”

The princess blinks a couple times in surprise. “I had anticipated relief, if anything.”

Title, muzzle scrunched in distaste, solemnly admits, “I can think of a few scenarios where being unable to die would be pretty awful.”

“I guess it depends on whether or not there’s a way to keep ya from teleportin away,” Deed half agrees.

“I admit, there is little known about the ability to move between planes,” Celestia explains. “Aside from my sister and present company, fewer than a dozen ponies have been aware of the capability over the course of my entire life. Our teacher emphasized the importance of keeping that secret. I share only with you all because it has such an immense impact on your son. And, I am loath to ask Cure not to share something of that nature with his parents.”

“We appreciate ya trustin us, yer highness. Upon pain ‘a death, I won’t tell a soul.”

“Thank you, Mrs. Blossom. I pray that such a scenario never befalls you, though.” Celestia turns her gaze to the contemplative colt. “Cure, are you okay? I am sorry if that disturbs you somehow, but I would not hide such an important facet of your existence from you.”

“No… I’m fine. I mean, I guess it’s good as long as, like my sire said, you can’t get trapped somewhere.” After letting a shudder pass through his body at the idea it occurs to him that he probably shouldn’t say more. That is, after all, exactly what’s happened to Luna, and he is doing his best to avoid rubbing salt in that particular wound.

Seeking a subject change, the colt continues, “Out of morbid curiosity… How exactly was that whole ‘can’t die’ thing discovered? I mean, I’m guessing somepony didn’t hoof ya a manual at Ascension Emporium or whatever.”

“That would have been very convenient,” she lightly agrees. “No, unfortunately the first time I died was to poison while visiting a neighboring barony to discuss an alliance.”

“I hafta ask,” Amethyst begins, “how hard did they soil themselves when ya came back?”

“Wait, wait! I mean… how’s that work?” Title asks, “Were they like… half way through burying your corpse and you just hop outta the hole and shout, ‘Howdy y’all!’ or something?”

“Oh wow, if there’s ever a time for a one liner, that would be it,” Cure notes.

“I did not leave a corpse behind,” Celestia calmly explains. “I awoke in the astral and, upon returning to this plane, found myself falling through the sky from a rather significant height. Only an hour had passed.”

“I’m guessing you didn’t sign the alliance agreement,” Lemon inquires.

“I did not get the opportunity to. In my exuberance I consumed both mine own and my sister’s drink. Upon my collapse she panicked. After watching as my physical remains dispersed into motes of light, as she later described, she quite abruptly made known her displeasure with our hosts.”

Cure nods knowingly, “Asked to speak to the manager, didn’t she? She got comped for the meal, I hope.”

“She razed the manor to the bedrock.”

“Good.”

“With the conspirators inside.”

“Even better,” Cure states approvingly.

“That,” she points at him, “is exactly why I do not want you directly involved in the investigation,” she explains. “I fully understand the desire for vengeance, Cure. I cannot even claim I would have done differently in my sister’s stead.

“Those were different times, though, and we live in a civilized nation now. Many tens of thousands of beings have struggled and died to ensure that, and I will not allow anypony to sully their sacrifice by going on some sort of rampage hunting down those who have wronged them.”

Deed turns to face the princess fully and, in a sincere tone, says, “I agree with the colt, highness. Some ponies will take the lack of decisive action as weakness. I don’t like the idea ‘a him havin ta hurt somepony, but I really don’t like tha idea they think they can get away with tryin again. Where would we be right now if he hadn’t been waitin for ‘em?”

“I understand, Mr. Deed. Everypony,” she adds, meeting each one’s eyes. “Believe me, it would be much easier if I could just throw somepony in a room and force the answers from them. But I will not allow such things to be done to anycreature simply to expedite justice. That is not how this nation has worked for nearly a thousand years, and I shall not allow it as long as I rule.”

The declaration is met by an uneasy silence. It’s not an ideal scenario, but then no such thing truly exists most of the time. The family certainly isn’t expecting her to go out kicking down doors and dragging ponies out into the street or anything. That’s a slippery slope to tyranny, after all. At the same time the lack of quick, easy answers is frustrating.

The only similar experience Cure has to compare it to is when someone stole Cyndi’s car when she was in a Planet Fitness. She’d left her keys in the locker when she changed and, a quick snip with a bolt cutter later, the guy was on his way across town.

The cameras weren’t good enough and not angled to capture his face due to his hat, and since there wasn’t any violence the police considered it a low priority, never finding the culprit; only the emptied and severely damaged car.

That was far more trivial than what somepony attempted here, but the helpless feeling is similar. It sucks and there’s not a whole lot Cure can do right now, so he basically just has to accept that. What’s worse is that the princess has directly commanded him, in no uncertain terms, that he is not to take action. He could probably get his grandsire involved but that could put the now youthful stallion on the princess’s shit list if something went wrong. Or even right, maybe.

Cure figures the only way he’ll be able to get away with taking action is if somecreature comes after him again. Given that would likely put his friends or family in the crosshairs too, he dares not hope that mistake is made. Also, it’s entirely possible that whatever surveilling force the princess has in place would stop them, or at least become aware of them, before he could wring answers out of them.

As grating as it is, he can’t think of any viable options that will solve everything. Instead, the only thing going through his mind is that if he’d known the princess was like this eight months ago he could have saved himself a lot of unnecessary stress. In a way it’s a relief, but still disappointing. Nopony wants a tyrant, but an iron-hoofed dictator would probably have this all sorted out by lunch.

After a few minutes Vines seeks to dispel the unpleasant atmosphere that has settled in the room. “We’re not upset, your highness. We do understand. Our stallions are just very protective of us, that is all.”

“I know, dear. And that is to be admired. The only thing I ask is that they remain patient and allow the justice system to do what it is designed to do. Were circumstances such that any of you stood accused of a crime you would certainly expect, and rightly so, that proper procedure be followed. That is, after all, the very definition of fairness, which is what any justice system should strive for.”

The statement gets nods, some less enthusiastic than others, from everypony. She’s right, of course, and the fact she’s even bothering to explain it instead of simply saying “because I say so” is a credit to the mare. Cure suspects she wouldn’t normally bother doing so for most, so he’s grateful she is being as accommodating, and patient, as she is.

“It’s nearly ten,” Cure says with a sigh, glancing out the balcony doors. “Were there other huge revelations my parents need to know? You’re not gonna try to do something like… I dunno, say, ‘Oh by the way you’re a prince now, here’s your crown. Congrats!’ or something are ya?”

The princess purses her lips and looks away while squirming. “Maaaaaybe?” she hesitantly admits. The bashful response is met with giggles from three moms and slightly wary looks from his dam and sire. Cure gives the princess the flattest deadpanned look he can muster.

“... What did you do?!” he asks, as if scolding a misbehaving puppy.

“I… may have, maybe, sent a missive or two.”

“What?! When? It’s been like,” he pauses, pulling his watch out of his mane, then struggles with it for a moment looking perplexed. “What the fudge? Did it break?”

“The enchantment,” Title reminds him.

“Ah. That… hurts more than I expected,” he sighs out, ears sagging under the realization.

Vines looks on confused. “Why isn’t it working?”

“Is that a blood bound enchantment?” Celestia asks. “If so, I can fix it for you. I am somewhat of an accomplished mage, if you recall.”

Cure nods and floats it over to her. She spends only a minute analyzing it before her horn begins glowing. A moment later she passes it back and explains, “it will still work for relatives based on your last blood sample. You will need to add a new sample to continue using it.”

“Thanks, boss. There’s your biometric security too,” he points out, waving at the watch. “Assuming those things couldn’t fake blood, at least. Have each guard bind a badge or something that is kept at the garrison, then make them activate it to sign in.”

She slowly nods in thought for a moment before commenting, “I will task Cpt. Shield with looking into it. I’m not sure if they could fool the enchantment but it should stop any mundane form of impression quite effectively. That’s never been a huge concern though.”

“Right,” he accepts. If the current system has worked for centuries he can get why they would be hesitant to change without a good reason. After a moment of nuzzling into his dam he picks up where he left before the distraction. “So when did this missive go out anyhow? It couldn’t have been just now; I don’t think it’s even been half an hour.”

“Umm… Thursday night?”

“You… set something up after I told you I wasn’t a real alicorn?” She nods. “Why?”

Deed and the three moms look back and forth between the pair like they’re watching a tennis match.

“Oh, come now, Cure, the writing was on the wall! I just made some arrangements for if or when it eventually happened. Sun and stars, it’s not as if I knew you would pull it off only two days later!”

“Really? It seems like I would have had to… I dunno… do more?”

“Your trees alone will reshape the entire nation!”

“Yeah but only the virus ones were really complicated. My talent kinda makes the other stuff easy.”

“And my talent made moving the sun as a lone unicorn possible.”

“So we got hoofed a super-talent at birth and everyone else just gets… I dunno, kinda screwed over?”

“I believe that it is likely any pony could ascend. Just like some are born stronger, or faster, or smarter, though, some have a greater chance to achieve it. Life is not fair, after all. Even with a greater chance, one must still do good and live by the tenets of Harmony.”

“Oh.”

“To be honest, I was nearly certain the birth of your siblings would spark your ascension.”

“What? Why?”

“You used your talent to cause the birth of a foal that would not otherwise have existed! That is huge, Cure!”

“There’s also the half-identical twins thing,” Lemon supplies.

“Half identical?” Celestia asks.

When Cure doesn’t answer Vines speaks up. “He duplicated the egg before conception. The foals will be half-identical twins instead of identical or fraternal.”

Celestia is taken aback slightly as she ponders on it. Slowly, she nods in agreement saying, “Yes… I believe that would have done it had the ritual today not. I cannot be sure, but it feels plausible.”

“Is that why you invited us to the Celebration?” Title asks. “I remember that only came up after we talked about this the other night.”

“Partially,” she answers honestly. “I also wanted to give Cure the opportunity to help, and, of course, have the benefit of the greatest healer available for my expecting dams. I also just enjoy having company that isn’t looking to get some kind of benefit from our association.”

“You are welcome to come visit us as well, highness,” Vines insists with a broad smile. “I know you don’t get many opportunities to just disappear but if you want to sometimes, feel free to just drop in.”

“Thank you, Vines dear. I may just take you up on the offer some time.”

“You still didn’t say what you did,” Cure reminds her.

Sighing, Celestia gives the colt a pleading look. “You have to understand, Cure. You are a Prince of Equestria by definition! You’re an alicorn! You can’t not be a prince! Our purpose is to serve our little ponies and ensure their safety. To inspire them. I don’t mind if you wear a disguise and I don’t ask that you do anything beyond what you already are, but…”

“You are planning to crown me at the Summer Sun Celebration.”

Cure’s statement draws gasps from Vines and Lemon. Amethyst and Title bark out a laugh before stifling any more. Deed just chuckles at the colt’s exasperated demeanor.

Celestia smiles broadly and bats her lashes at him, leaning forward and fluffing her big, beautiful wings invitingly with their tantalizingly soft warmth. “Please, Cure? The title does come with benefits, you know.” The suggestive manner it’s said in gets raised brows from the parents, even if they’re pretty sure she didn’t mean it like that. Cure struggles to peel his eyes away from the promised land to scowl at the ageless siren.

Title leans over to her husband and whispers, “He’s toast.”

Celestia smiles broadly and adds, “You would be second in line for the throne once you’re of age.”

“You need to fire whoever drew up my psych profile if they said that would entice me. As far as I’m concerned that’s not a benefit. If you weren’t immortal that would send me running for the border. Any border, in fact. Whichever is closest.”

She continues despite his snark. “You would also have legitimate authority. You could even issue orders to Guard units!” More quietly she adds, “... within reason.”

The colt leans back and lets out a loud, low, drawn out groan, causing his sister to stir before resettling. He closes his eyes and lets out an enormous sigh before sagging down around the filly. After a moment of deliberation he sits up and opens his eyes to meet her hopeful gaze. “What’s the catch?”

“No catch! I may, occasionally, ask that you join me for events. You’re not required to and may leave at any point, but you may find some very interesting. I meet with many different creatures from all over the world, many of whom you may not have the opportunity to meet for a long time otherwise.”

“What about the nobles? They’re going to lose their minds when they’ve found an interloper wedged in, further distancing them from their ambitions.”

“Fie, I say!” she shouts, waving a wing dismissively. “They may play their silly games all they want. At the end of the day they barely have any real power, and I have veto authority over their foalish decisions. They can scarcely agree on anything beyond what’s needed to keep Equestria running.

“What power could they ever truly have over you anyhow? They do not cure the sick or heal the injured. They do not create trees of mending or offer longer lives. They do not offer the solution to hundreds of thousands of lonely mares! If they truly pushed you and I did not intervene, you need only stop your work and there is little they could do.”

Pleadingly, the princess beseeches the colt. “Please, Cure… I will only ask of you what you are willing to give, nothing more, I promise! Let our little ponies share in this joyous occasion and, if you desire, return to Baltimare to do as you wish until you are prepared to do more.”

“Dooooo eeeet,” Title lowly whispers, barely holding back a laugh.

Cure gives her a quick scowl and focuses back on the princess. “What if I want to travel? I don’t just get to be a pony visiting another country anymore. Instead, I’m foreign royalty now, with all that entails.”

“Not every trip has to be a diplomatic mission, Cure. You can just… go somewhere. It’s not as if I could prevent you from doing so in disguise anyhow.”

“You could order me not to.”

“I do not make a habit of issuing orders I am confident will be ignored.”

“I’ll have to report to you, though.”

“In a way, you do anyhow. Everypony does. I am the High Princess, last I checked.”

“And I’m a free citizen that can simply leave the country if I so choose.”

“And again, you could anyhow. It’s a crown, not a set of shackles. I would hope that should an issue drive you to that point you bring it to me first. I am certainly not trying to entrap you.”

“You’re really not going to up and say, ‘You’re in charge of Baltimare’ or whatever at some point?”

“I would be thrilled if, at some point in the future, whether it be fifteen or fifty years, you would be voluntarily looking to lead our ponies in some capacity, but I will not force you to do anything. I’ve been there. It was terrifying! I would not force that upon another, especially without preparation.”

“What about having a troupe of guards following me everywhere?”

“That would only be necessary while attending duties as a royal. They are merely here for the station. I do not think a single soul out there truly believes I need guardians! For any threat that is not a farce their orders are to ensure everypony else’s safety and stay out of my way.”

Silence fills the room for a few moments as the two stare at each other. Cure with wary suspicion and Celestia with naked hopefulness.

The colt blinks first. Growling, he looks away and lets out an annoyed huff. Meeting each ones’ eyes he tells his parents, “This impacts you all just as much as it does me. I want to hear what your thoughts are.”

Deed shrugs, saying, “It sounds like not a lot ‘ll change, son. At least not till yer ready for it ta. Can’t say I’m seein a downside here. I mean… you’ve suggested plenty ‘a ideas ta make things better. What better way can ya see ta get ‘em done?”

“Private industry!” he immediately answers. Looking to the princess he asks, “Will I be limited somehow in regards to any business dealings? My own business or my grandsire, for example… is there anything that would prevent me from seeing patients or working with him?”

“No. Prince Blueblood has numerous business interests; travel, art, and social clubs stand out prominently. I, as you observed, have business dealings in relation to my own image, not to mention my own school, even though that is not run as a for-profit institution. So long as you are doing business as a private individual and not a Prince of Equestria then there is no issue.”

“If you have too much, feel free to sell some fruit to supplement your nonprofits, princess. I’m fine with that. Hadn’t considered that before to be honest.”

“It will depend on their yield, but I appreciate that, Cure.”

“Sure. If anything comes up that could be questionable I would run that by you first anyhow. Not that I see it being an issue anytime soon, but if I were to agreeand they start making toys in my image will that be taken care of by the same ponies you use?”

“Yes, though if you ever wanted to make some kind of separate ‘Cure Wave’ product we may need to discuss the details to make sure we’re keeping the individual and the position separate. For me, myself and my station are too linked for me to separate them at this point.”

“Fair. You may want to have them pump some out before the event. Make the first thousand collectors items with proceeds going to your usual charities or whatever. Maybe something to spread magical knowledge to earth ponies. I could supply a real alicorn primary feather with them easily enough, though maybe only the first twenty or ponies will think yer pluckin me bald. Sell ‘em in an auction format and the top thousand pay their bid price.”

“That… is another amazing idea. I would normally have not considered the feather idea, but it is brilliant. Are you certain your talent is not business related?”

“You would think,” Lemon answers, “His ideas have made my shop a fortune.”

“Same with our business,” Title agrees.

“Yeah they’re doing so well they had to go out and hire a spy, err, an employee I mean. Hey, mom,” he calls to Lemon, “maybe somepony will conveniently show up looking for a job that can run the retail part of the store while you do the kitchen stuff.” The accusation, big fake, toothy smile, wink, and knowing look he gives the princess cause her eyes to slightly widen in surprise.

“I may need to hire somepony,” the candy mare agrees, gaining a contemplative look. “Not a bad idea…”

Cure more conspicuously winks at the princess and makes a motion like he’s writing a note, then gestures to his big smile while nodding. The surprised look changes into a worried one instead.

“Tha colt also got Dawn her first customers,” Deed adds. The family has heard Cure’s assertion plenty of times so they don’t even react to the blatantly unsubtle display.

“I’m pretty sure ruling has little to do with raising the sun,” he points out. A sudden, random thought crosses his mind. “Nopony could like… use a feather to curse me or something, right?”

“No, Cure. Not unless freshly plucked. Metaphysical connections like that only last a few weeks.”

“Huh. Neat.” He looks to Title and asks, “Thoughts, ma?”

“I think it’ll be fun,” Title says, grinning broadly. “You’ve always been most concerned about somepony taking away your freedom. Well?” she waves a hoof towards the princess. “Sounds like that won’t be an issue.”

“Can ya think a’ any reason not ta?” Amethyst asks in genuine curiosity.

“Yes!” he instantly shouts.

The dark mare stares patiently, waiting for some kind of clarification. Finally, she waves a hoof invitingly to coax an explanation.

He deflates slightly when he comes up empty. “Not anything specific. I mean, if I’ll not be beholden to the whims of some noble or something,” Celestia quickly shakes her head no even before he finishes the sentence, “I’m struggling to think of a negative here. You mentioned Prince Blueblood. There’s other princes and princesses, right? They’re just not alicorns, is my understanding.”

“Only him,” she corrects. “He is the descendent of a cousin, so I call him nephew even if he is not. Prince Blueblood the… forty-fifth?” She furrows her brows in thought for a moment, slowly nodding. “I believe that is correct. Frankly the whole name thing became a joke after about the sixth one.

“Regardless, he is a unicorn and has a colt that is almost of age, so that title will likely soon change hooves at which point he’ll somewhat retire. His son is thirteen, nearly fourteen, so over the next few years he’ll probably bestow the title on to him, as has been done every other time in their family’s history, and begin transferring management of his businesses over the next couple decades. It’s not like they have ever actually ruled anything, aside from a country club lounge, perhaps.

“They have always addressed me as their aunt, including their wives, so don’t let that surprise you. Your title will be permanent and of a higher standing.”

Cure is aware that, due to the polygamous nature of ponies, higher titles are not inherited by every single child. If they were there could be literally hundreds of each type, given that a single titled stallion could, with society’s blessing, sire dozens of foals by as many mares. It’s encouraged that they do so, in fact, though unicorn culture is a little weird about it.

He isn’t sure what that will mean for his eventual foals, though, as there is not currently any precedent to make assumptions based off of. More than likely they will be “lord” and “lady” which, while they are titles of nobility, carry no real authority.

“Technically, you will be a Grand Prince, though your actual authority will be limited until you are older and have shown responsibility sufficient to earn it.” With a minute shrug of her wings she adds, “I’m sure they’ll make an attempt to introduce you to a daughter, particularly the younger as she is about your age, but you certainly are under no obligation to humor such advances.”

“I’m sure the girls will love that,” he dryly comments. “Especially Dawn.”

“Anypony you take as a wife would be a princess consort. I’m assuming, based on your interactions with the other foals, that you are not in a relationship with your friend Heavy Lift?”

“No, princess,” he says, barely holding back any kind of negative response. Homosexual relationships, even between males, are not taboo in society, though there is a slight negative outlook on stallions that fail to sire foals given the low population numbers and birthrates. “I am not attracted to colts.”

She shrugs indifferently and nods in acceptance. “Then the prince consort title would not apply.”

Cure looks at Lemon and raises a brow in question. “Any thoughts, mom?”

“Not really. I mean… I was definitely not prepared for all this,” she waves to the room at large and, specifically between the two alicorns, “but hay, it’ll be interesting if nothin else, right? Are you like… literally putting a crown on him?”

“Of course. He need not wear it outside of official functions, but he will have one.”

“That is a terrifying prospect,” he idly comments. He looks up to the one pony who has not yet expressed an opinion one way or the other. “Dam?”

“All I want is for you to be safe and happy, sweetheart. I’ll admit… the thought of you being the center of so much attention frightens me, but I know you can manage it. If her highness thinks it best and you agree then I will too.”

“Ugh… I can’t believe this,” he sighs. “Like, literally. If this is a terrible idea I’m going to remember this moment,” he pauses to fish out his watch. Scowling at the thing, he hoofs it to his dam who, after rolling her eyes, activates the illusion. He waves at the time and continues, “and find a way to travel back in time and give myself a sign to say no right now,” he finishes in a raised voice.

He looks around for a moment and notes that his parents are all holding their breath and glancing about the room as well. The princess is smiling broadly and staring at him, waiting for an answer, steadily bouncing faster as nothing materializes. When no evidence makes itself known he sags and, in a defeated tone, says, “Fiiiine, I guess.”

“Splendid!” Celestia merrily cheers, hooves clapping in glee while her wings idly flutter behind her. “I cannot begin to tell you how excited I am! This will be the greatest Sun Celebration ever!”

She suddenly disappears in a flash of light, only to reappear to Vines and Cure’s right, wrapping them both, and his sister, by proxy, in a tight embrace, wiggling side to side, nearly dancing in glee. “Oh I can’t wait to make the official announcement!”

Sighing despite the warm, happy embrace, Cure can’t help but wonder exactly how badly he just fucked up.

Author's Note

I think I went through about a dozen titles before I finally gave up and rolled with what I had; some were pretty bad.

You're getting this chapter about fourteen hours early because my Monday is doing to be too busy for me to have time to publish tomorrow.

So... yeah, that happened. This'll no doubt leave everyone with several questions, and you won't have all of your answers for another chapter or two at a minimum. Some not even then. Hopefully the ratings won't explode in red, but... eh, these things happen.

Big C definitely dropped some bombs on the group. The two big things are the immortality and the foal issue, obviously. Keep in mind, she said "as far as we know" on the former, so she's basically saying "It may be possible, but I haven't found a way." That has some very dark connotations, possibly, but we won't be delving into that anytime soon.

The foal thing is because I thought it did a good job explaining why there's no record of either having any foals despite it being insanely unlikely they are still virgins. In fact, in the early years of a ruler's reign one of the highest priorities is producing a child. They wouldn't have instantly known they were either unkillable nor unaging, after all. Cure even comments that no one gave her a manual, so logic dictates they probably tried repeatedly, at least early on. Maybe not so much after a hundred years when they still looked 25, though.

I know a lot of people will lose their minds over him agreeing to the coronation. Celestia played him like a fiddle. She's found his weak points and hits every single one, so why would he refuse? He gains everything and, as far as he can tell, isn't giving up anything in return but his time on occasion, and she even sweetened the pot there. Plus, he is an alicorn now. Hiding won't work forever.

Oh well.

64 (the rest of Saturday) and 65 (Sunday in story) are already written and, to absolutely NOBODY'S surprise (at least, amongst those that have been paying attention), 65 got long enough I had to split it off into its own chapter.

So the plan is to release the next two chapters on the first and eighth, then take a few weeks off. Expect 66 towards the end of May at the earliest or, more likely, on June 5th.

Enjoy, folks! As always, thanks for reading.

Edit - Alt ending:

He looks around for a moment and notes that his parents are all holding their breath and glancing about the room as well. The princess is smiling broadly and staring at him, waiting for an answer, steadily bouncing faster as nothing materializes. Suddenly, directly in front of him, a tear in the world once again opens. As quickly as he can register the event a familiar, but larger, blue foreleg flies out of the hole, slamming a cream pie into his face before disappearing into the rift, which closes immediately after.

Vines, who had somehow been shielded from the spray, looks down at her son in confusion. All three moms are rolling on the floor, laughing uproariously as Celestia stares in wide-eyed shock.

Deed shrugs at the colt, idly pointing, "Well... ya asked fer a sign, son. There ya have it."

"That's bullshit!" he yells, fuming at the empty space before him. "I don't even have a way to get even now!"

"I... I'm confused," Celestia slowly admits. "Was that a yes?"

Nodding in defeat, Cure morosely admits, "Yeah. That was a yes." Grumbling under his breath, he can't help but add, "God, I'm such an asshole..."

Chapter 64: Royals

Saturday, May 2nd, 909 AB (Immediately after)

With the meeting concluded, Celestia escorts the family back to their rooms, animatedly chatting with them the whole way. Cure is immensely leery about the change in his status even with the reassurances from the princess that little will actually change. At the same time, just seeing the unfiltered joy radiating from the ancient mare warms his heart in a way he’s only felt a few times.

The parents are obviously basking in the infectious feeling too, as even his sire, who has been reluctant to interact much with her, is eagerly engaging the mare in conversation about the local real estate market. Title is chipping in a fair amount as well, though her daughter is still occasionally giving the princess the stink eye from underneath her dam’s mane. Although the other parents are less interested in the subject, they can’t help but smile fondly at seeing the unusually energetic princess nearly skipping through the halls.

He can certainly understand the princess’s excitement. Ed had read some stories that were hypothetical ventures into what happened immediately before and after Luna’s fall. Grimdark never struck his fancy, so he avoided the really ugly ones, but it wasn’t hard to get the gist from the descriptions. Whether or not any of them are close to what really happened, the end result was one sister having to lock away the other for a millennium; a longer span of time than his mind can even truly comprehend.

Now, suddenly, seemingly out of nowhere, a colt shows up that is hoofing over the world and solving race-spanning problems that were completely unfixable only a year ago. Not only the problems that the pony race faces, but also many of the problems Celestia herself has come to accept as inevitabilities.

Cure is very much aware of the curse of longevity. Ed was fourteen when his great grandmother died, and he vividly remembered only a few people other than immediate family showing up. At his contemplative look his older brother pointed out that great grandma outlived almost everyone she knew. One husband died young, the other in his early seventies. She carried on to ninety-six, spending the last twenty years watching as lifelong friend after friend was buried, silently longing to join them herself.

Celestia has done that for somewhere around two thousand years. She has said goodbye to upwards of a century of generations of friends, lovers, acquaintances, and even enemies.

She has survived watching foals be brought into the world, watched their entire journey, then bore witness to their inevitable death at the cruel hooves of time; apparently powerless to do anything to save them while the cycle repeats with their foals, grandfoals, and dozens of descendants thereafter. All the while being unable to even bear a foal to carry on a beloved’s legacy or at least have one constant, unbroken familial link between herself and her little ponies.

It is a horrifying, cruel fate that Cure cannot fathom having the strength to survive. And to heap cruelty onto cruelty, the option of simply not surviving was seemingly removed. Even the option of sleeping away the centuries is denied her, given her dedication and semi-daily obligation.

More than once he caught her glance down at him atop his dam and beam all the brighter with an excited smile. Cure can’t help but wonder if a part of the whole proposal is some kind of manipulation on her part, even if she believes him better off for it. Really, given the offer, he can’t think of any reason to say no.

He’ll get the protection of the title, the authority that comes with it, and untold opportunities that he would have never dreamed possible back in September. The only downside would be if he had to step up into a leadership role before he is prepared to do so. Given that an alicorn is impossible to kill, as far as they know, that seems like an extraordinarily unlikely event.

Cure suspects that their inviolability is exaggerated, though. Even if they are impossible to kill exactly, he is all but certain it is possible to effectively remove one from the board. He can’t fathom the circumstances that would prompt him to, but the immediate example that comes to mind is to simply put her physical body in a state of permanent sleep. Granted he has not yet slept as an alicorn, but unless there’s some low-level awareness that she did not display during his breakfast delivery intrusion then doing so would have the same results as death.

Even if the unthinkable would happen, he was completely serious about revising the way the country is led. That there isn’t a group of ministers essentially running the show and only getting double-checked to minimize corruption seems like an enormous waste. Maybe, he considers, that’s something he will be able to gradually convince Celestia to look into.

Amethyst would be a fantastic trade advisor with her ability to divine the value of things alone. Title would probably be an exceedingly competent spymaster if her information gathering capabilities are applicable to areas other than real estate, and even if not then she would be a godsent running a public records agency.

Deed, he could envision being responsible for housing development as the country’s population grows, and his dam may have similar impactful results in the food industry. Lemon may not have a wide-reaching talent, but that doesn’t mean she couldn’t find some way to apply it on a larger scale, perhaps by developing and implementing effective nutrition plans to encourage ponies to eat better.

Ten minutes after capitulating to the princess’s pleas probably isn’t the best time to start making unresearched suggestions, though, so Cure resolves to keep his thoughts to himself until an appropriate opportunity presents itself or until he’s been involved with leadership long enough that his suggestions aren’t just coming seemingly out of nowhere.

The “have a kid as an advisor” joke probably isn’t a thing here, after all, and the princess has been in a leadership position for two to three hundred times as long as Cure has drawn breath. Unless he’s really screwed the pooch somehow, the country should continue to thrive for the next ninety years, minimum, so there’s no urgent need to make any more big changes either way.

As the group arrives in the guest wing the parents and his sister head to their room to get ready, stopping briefly with the unicorns to pick up his other two sisters. Celestia stays with Cure, subconsciously bouncing on each step like an excited child. A flurry of feathers meets the colt as soon as he steps inside. Both Glacial and Drift are immediately upon him with Dawn and the others only a step behind.

“Heya everypony. Miss me?”

“What’s to miss?” Wind snorts. “You were only gone like two minutes.”

Dawn looks over her withers to shoot the white filly a scathing scowl before turning back and nuzzling into his right cheek. “What was it like?”

“Exploding? Zero out of ten. Would not recommend. Especially the part where my crystals went kaboom. That was like…” he looks up in thought, then scowls as he adds everything up, “over ten freaking grand in supplies. I’m just glad my bags didn’t get ruined too.”

She rolls her eyes and huffs out a sigh.

“Only you would complain about something like that, dude,” Heavy says, copying Dawn’s exasperated expression. “Can’t freaking believe you’re an alicorn now.” He looks up to the princess and waves a hoof in greeting. “Hi, princess.”

“Hello again, Heavy Lift. Is everypony almost ready to go? I think we’ve waited long enough for all of the businesses to reopen, and,” she looks towards Wind, “events are scheduled to resume at Firefly Memorial Park in half an hour.”

“Can you come with us?” Drift eagerly asks, nosing at Cure’s ear. “They would die if the new alicorn showed up!”

“I don’t think anypony even knows yet,” Cure hesitantly says, tilting his head up to look questioningly at the princess.

She explains while shaking her head no, “No doubt some of the pegasi guards near Cloudsdale caught a glimpse of his return, but there has not been time to make an official announcement yet. I believe it would be wise to wait until Monday to do so; for now we will simply be spreading word of a magic-related incident and remain otherwise vague in our description. I imagine many newspapers across the country will run special editions once we release a news press.”

As she is answering, Cure gives each of the girls on him a gentle nuzzle and meets Rising and Ferric’s eyes with a beckoning head tilt. Relieved they weren’t being left out, the pair steps in to get their fair share as the others give them room to squeeze in. Distracted by the approaching pair, Cure is caught off guard when Sapphire lands fully on his back and lays her neck up his mane, wrapping both forelegs around his chest.

The move gets a slight giggle out of Rising who carries on undaunted. Ferric lets out an exasperated sigh, but still takes Glacial’s vacated spot on Cure’s left side.

“Ah fudge, do you hafta go, boss?”

Grinning at the colt, she again shakes her head explaining, “I have ponies for that, Cure. They will answer questions for today, then come next week make the announcement of your upcoming coronation at the Celebration. With-” Celestia has to pause at the round of gasps and mumbled statements of shock. Once everypony realizes they interrupted her several quiet apologies are given.

“That is okay. I’m sure it will be a surprise for everypony. As I was saying, with your private information being withheld there is little to share. A new alicorn was born and will be crowned at the Celebration,” she says with a wing shrug. “There is nothing else to tell unless you so choose.”

“Duuude!” Heavy drawls, staring at Cure with bulging eyes.

“I know! I was against it, but somepony all but begged me to agree.”

All eyes focus on the innocent face of the princess who immediately looks away and begins whistling.

“I think most ponies would be pretty excited at the idea,” Glacial comments. “I can’t begin to imagine how my parents would react… they would probably have been looking for a new house before I even came back.”

The idea apparently hadn’t occurred to everypony yet, as Dawn whips around and, in a near panic, shouts, “Are you moving?!”

“No. For now, basically nothing is changing.”

“It was the only way he would agree,” Celestia pouts at the colt.

“Darn tootin. I’m eight. Had enough friggin changes over the last nine months ta last me a few years,” he grumbles. “And nopony better start callin me your highness or bowin or I will pin you down and tickle you until yer about ta pee!”

“Don’t threaten your friends, Cure,” Celestia gently chides.

He gives her a flat look and asks, “How long did it take for you to stop cringing every time somepony addresses you by your title?”

She haughtily replies, “I was raised knowing I would lead some day.”

Sapphire leans close to Cure’s ear and whispers, “That wasn’t an answer,” before averting her eyes from the princess’s annoyed look.

“So… a decade?”

Sighing in defeat, she sheepishly admits, “It took a few years when it came to those I considered friends.”

“Exactly. So since I won’t have any royal duties for the foreseeable future, none of that ‘your highness’ stuff,” he insists, slashing across the idea with an unsharpened hoof.

“That’s perfectly okay, Cure. Truthfully I am fine with your decision. I certainly wouldn’t expect you to attend trade negotiations or what-have-you anyway. Now,” she says, straightening up, “Cure’s parents and siblings should be prepared and I have squads ready to take those of you who are headed out to your destinations. Ferric Shine, Heavy Lift?”

Both look up in response. “Master Smith Fuller is awaiting your arrival. Again I remind you,” she says, turning to look specifically at Heavy, “take great care to listen to all instructions from her and Miss Shine. Nopony gets hurt today, young stallion.”

Ducking his head in a half bow nod, the gray colt immediately agrees.

“Good. Wind Shear?” she calls, getting a nod and a “yes ma’am?” from the older girl. “Your escort is waiting on the ground just outside your balcony,” she says, nodding to the doors. “You may depart whenever you are ready.”

“Got money for lunch or whatever?” Cure quickly asks.

“Worry not, an allowance has been provided.”

Celestia cocks a brow at the frown on Cure’s face. He gives her a minute head shake as he schools his features. “Have your Sending crystals?” he asks as he looks back. All three give affirmative responses before heading to the bedroom to get their suits on.

“What are you going to be doing?” Rising asks Cure, then glances up and starts stuttering and adds a quick head bow and “your highness” on.

“Oh, be at ease, Rising, dear,” she says with a giggle. “Cure and I will be determining what impact his change has had on his abilities. It is possible he may have to stay a few days if his magic is difficult to control.”

The explanation gets a confused look from several of the foals, Dawn in particular. The princess clarifies, “His magic increased significantly. It may not be safe for him to use at this moment.”

The yellow filly nods in understanding. “Oh! Okay, thank you for explaining, princess.”

“Of course, dear.”

“How much?” Dawn asks.

“I think I’ve almost caught up with ya. You still have me beat though.”

“You will have a very difficult time staying ahead of him, Dawn Glow,” the princess warns. “Based on my own experience his growth will far outstrip what a unicorn is capable of. Do not fall into the trap of trying to keep up with him. It would be as difficult as it would be for a pegasus to go faster while lacking earth pony strength.”

Dawn, given the source, can only nod in acceptance. She doesn’t seem particularly bothered by it, but that’s something Cure will have to watch for in the future.

Deed knocks on the door frame to announce their arrival. Celestia steps aside as he peeks in. “Everypony ready?”

“So… what’s first?”

“Always start with the basics. Levitate a rock,” she instructs, pointing at a pile of rocks set to the side. Apparently they are used for various levitation control exercises like the ones that Solar struggled with in Basic.

“M’kay.” Willing a bit of magic towards his horn, Cure focuses on the designated target.

After giving the foals another quick round of affection, which included reassuring hugs and nuzzles from Coast, Wind, and Heavy, the group had split up with everypony going their separate ways.

Cure, Celestia, and her honor guard make their way to the Guard firing range. The firing range is much more like an open archery range from Ed’s memories. There’s a dozen lanes total, only a few further down the line being currently occupied. It’s located on the east side of the barracks, wedged in between the tall walls that section off the castle grounds from the rest of the city and the barracks themselves.

There is an enchanted backdrop between the targets and the wall, though Cure is certain that, even at his increased capacity, he could blast away at the wall itself for a good chunk of the year before he might chip some stone off.

Even though his capacity roughly tripled, he’s still slightly less powerful than Dawn who, despite her stellar growth over the last nine months, still barely has a tenth of her brother’s magic pool. It’s not a very fair comparison at the moment though since he is still in the three year window after he got his mark, even if he only has a few more months of easy gains to look forward to.

Located to the south of the hedge maze, the Guard barracks looks far more like an actual castle than the castle itself. Cure isn’t sure how many ponies are in the normal garrison, but the structure looks like it could hold several hundred defenders comfortably, or quite a few more during a siege. He can’t help but wonder where in there the prisoners that came to attack him are being housed. He hopes their food sucks and they’re bored off their asses, though.

Heavy and Ferric are somewhere in there checking out the smithy. Cure is pretty sure that wasn’t all that interesting to his bro, but it certainly sounds a hell of a lot better than shopping or going to the opera. Vines, Title, Coast, Dawn, and Rising are all going on a tour of one of the several music halls right now and Cure can’t help but think he would literally rather stare at clouds or watch paint dry than check that out.

His sire, Lemon, Amethyst, Cherry, Lotus, Starlight, Solar, and Sapphire all went on a shopping trip that sounds… just awful. At least they agreed to pick up some zippers for Lt. Spear’s and Wind Shear’s suits while they were out.

Besides that, the only part that he could even muster the energy to feign excitement over was Sapphire’s mention of looking for some pretty jewelry. The girl had nearly exploded in glee when he had given her the Wonderbolt pendant the previous night. Thankfully he was able to escape from the spine-shattering hug by pointing out that Dawn had been the one to suggest it.

The enthusiastic filly immediately picked Dawn up in a tight embrace, planting half a dozen kisses all up and down each side of her chin. Despite the put-upon look the unicorn sported, Cure could see the faint smile on her lips when she saw how happy it made their friend.

Eager to test the adaptations from the dragon he had scanned, Cure, insisting that Amethyst help, gave Sapphire an assignment. With an allowance of a thousand bits she is to find a variety of lower quality gemstones for him to eat. He figures starting out with quantity before splurging on quality is probably a safe bet.

In lieu of direct payment, and with his mom’s approval, he offered her a challenge. He suggested that she attempt to haggle with the merchants and, upon coming to a price she approved of, check with Amethyst’s talent to compare her performance. If she gets a better deal she keeps half the difference. If she doesn’t, she doesn’t.

His hope is that she’ll come back with at least eight hundred bits worth of gems. He made sure to emphasize to both of them that if she isn’t doing well that it’s not a big deal and he’ll still pay her a commission for the effort.

The pair of alicorns draw some curious stares from not only patrolling guards, but also the unicorns that pause in their casting to give a brief bow to the princess as well as gawk at the colt by her side. With only the restriction on nearby airspace preventing pegasi from looking down on them, Cure opted to go incognito for today’s exercise. Everypony that looks their way will find him in his Riddle disguise rather than his default blue and green.

He focuses back on the task at hoof, dismissing any worry that creeps in anytime his parents are out in the city without him to keep a wary eye out. With the magic coming far faster than he was prepared for, Cure watches in shock as the rock lifts up, then shears into two parts floating in his chocolate colored aura.

“Not… exactly what I was hoping to see,” Celestia comments, “though not outside of expectations either. Fear not, you just need practice, just as the patients with injured horns you have healed.” Turning to face the scowling colt, she continues, “You will no doubt find your magic to be more responsive than you are accustomed to.”

At his agreeing nod she explains, “You’ll have to be conscious of that when casting via runes. I’m sure you have noticed that I do not usually do so.”

“I did. When you first used Reduce I noticed right away.”

“When your capacity and throughput are high it is, ironically, more difficult to cast basic spells via the shortcut runic casting offers. I liken it to pouring water from a container.”

“Hard to pour a teaspoon from a bathtub?” he knowingly asks.

“Precisely. Not without spilling or, in this case, overcharging the specific parts of a spell. You will likely not need to be concerned until you are at least twelve or so. I will eventually teach you an alternative, but it is needlessly inefficient; something that you will not benefit from for quite some time.”

“Dawn and I have been reading ahead a little. Remember I told Cpt. Shield about the teacher that approached me?”

“The one you first deaged?”

“Yup. I asked for lessons after we met and I saw you skipping runes. My customer sent a few textbooks for Dawn and I to study.”

“Ah… so you have already been practicing?”

“Yup.”

“Excellent. When you are sufficiently capable you can quickly shape and infuse your magic in a way that is essentially instant. I know you had mentioned the possibility of relocating sometime in the next year or two. You need not buy a house; as a crowned prince a room will be always be available to you near my own here at the castle.

“You could attend classes at my school and, on the weekends, return to Golden Hills. That would also give me ample opportunity to monitor your progress and supplement your education if you learn fast enough to move beyond the normal curriculum.”

“That’s a lot of time away from my family,” he points out with a frown. “I wouldn’t get to snuggle with my sisters every night or be there when Savvy starts talking… well, maybe she will by then, but still, the twins’ll only be one and a couple months old and I’ll only see ‘em on the weekend.”

Dropping the rock halves, Cure moves on to others as they converse.

“They could live here too, at least until you are an adult. Food is provided by my farm, mostly, and what few expenses they should have while here can easily be justified to the taxpaying public; especially given how much they already have and will continue to benefit due to your work. I’m assuming that’s the cause of your disapproving look earlier?”

“Yeah… I know it sounds dumb, but something about them getting money from somepony else doesn’t sit right.” Shrugging his wings he adds, “I don’t have a good reason, really. It’s like… I earned my money through my efforts. If I wanna give ‘em a few bits to blow, that’s on me. My choice, ya know?”

“Ah, and taxpayers don’t get a say in giving a few fillies spending money,” she suggests in understanding.

“Yeah, which is a dumb, flawed, ridiculous excuse given there’s many, many ponies out there getting way more than a few bits to buy lunch or a snack or whatever.”

“Would you feel better if I told you it came from my own funds?”

His snout wrinkles in thought for a moment before he hesitantly agrees. “It would. I mean, I dunno how it all,” he waves a wing vaguely towards the palace and the city at large, “works exactly but at least you can say, ‘That was my money and I choose how it’s spent’ instead of ‘That was your money and you got no say in it.’

“The main thing keeping it from being a definite yes is the fact that you may have a huge unfair advantage given your long life, but I can’t think of a good way to address that. Then again, so do I, for a different reason, I guess,” he adds. “There’s also the fact that, while the possibility certainly exists some day, you’ve not had the time to get to know them enough to consider them friends.

“It’s not a friend helping a friend as much as… I dunno… somepony fulfilling an unspoken obligation? ‘There’s a foal; they need an adult to take care of them,’ ya know? I don’t think I’m doing the best job of voicing my thoughts on it, I guess. Bottom line? Stuff’s complicated and worrying about a few bits isn’t worth the effort, that’s why I didn’t say anything.”

“That was a much more complicated answer than I anticipated,” she remarks with a smile. With a teasing tone she says, “I had assumed you just wanted to be the one to pay for your fillyfriends.”

“Ehh… no, not really. I do like to share with them, but that’s mostly ‘cause I recognize how insanely unfair my talent is. It’s the same reason I don’t charge anything to heal or for trees and whatnot. I guess in my own little way I’m ‘taxing’ ponies for cosmetic services to pay for my services for non-cosmetic stuff.”

Nodding in understanding, she comments, “An interesting viewpoint. Given the value you ‘donate’ and the voluntary nature of your earnings I approve wholeheartedly. I can’t envision what the world would look like if that approach were applied at large, but I like to think the results would be truly wondrous.”

“Yeah, I think I’ve given you enough material that you’re gonna be too busy with real world stuff to worry about some kinda pseudo utopian what-if. I just hope none of that stuff ends with us in some kinda war.”

“A possibility I’m surprised you would consider.”

“Why?” he asks, turning to face her. “It seems like common sense. A foreign government just got caught conducting clandestine operations in your country targeting a minor civilian healer on his way to visit on your invite. That’s awfully close to a declaration of war right there.”

“Cure…” she sighs, looking around and then casting a Sound Bubble, though her version also blurs sight, he notes, so it may not even be the same spell. She lays on her barrel facing the colt from only a half meter away. He cuts out his magic and turns to regard her in curiosity. “No Equestrian pony alive, save myself, has seen war,” she calmly states. “Even the oldest of my little ponies would struggle to consider the possibility of war. Your great grandsire’s great grandsire may have been a foal when we were last at war.”

“So?”

“So when I hear a foal postulate that something could cause armed conflict when there is not a living soul they would likely have heard suggest it…” she pauses, then in a soft, but matter-of-fact tone, she finishes, “it makes me wonder.”

The silence stretches between the two for several seconds. Sagging in defeat, Cure begrudgingly nods in acceptance.

“I don’t believe you have ever lied to me,” she says leadingly.

He shakes his head no, snapping up to meet her gaze. “I never would,” he insists.

Continuing in the same soft tone she says, “I understand. You do not need to share if you do not want to.” At the confused look on his face, she slowly shakes her head. “You have been found worthy by a greater force than I. I have seen the care you have for others; the love between you and your family, the way you treat your friends. I have even seen the way you treat your enemies. I assume your parents are aware?”

He nods.

“They love and accept you. Between that, your own actions, and your ascension, I have no cause for concern.”

“I wanted to let the girls know first. In case they wanna be with somepony else or something.”

“Were you waiting for them to mature before discussing it?”

“Yeah. At least some. I figured in the next year or so. Before Ferric, Glacial, and Drift turn twelve at least.”

“Good. I would be concerned if you did not.”

“Yeah, that would be a huge betrayal,” he agrees while nodding.

Rolling her eyes, she corrects, “It would be dishonest.”

“Same diff.”

Huffing, she raises her voice saying, “It is not the same!”

“Dunno why we don’t just say ‘Don’t be a prick.’ It’s the same basic idea.”

“Cure!”

“What? ‘Be kind, generous, honest, and loyal while using magic and laughing’ is confusing. Just say ‘Don’t be a prick’ and call it a day. It’s way easier,” he says, pointing to a rock that is, without wavering, levitating in front of him. “See?”

“Well done. For the record, I do not believe casting while laughing is exactly recommended.”

“Yeah, I guess that’s probably a bad idea. You’d probably look a little crazy too. Light next?”

“Perhaps fire a few shots first,” she suggests as she dispells her Bubble.

Nodding, Cure takes aim at the actual targets set up downrange. Blasting away is a whole lot easier than even levitation initially was. Of course it is essentially pushing power and pulling the mental trigger, even if the analogy isn’t precise. Being careful or gentle isn’t necessary at all, though he makes an effort to control his blasts similar to how Solar had when testing his durability.

As with the levitation, he finds his magic responds much more quickly and eagerly, and gets a heady rush of exhilaration at seeing some actual damage being done to the target beyond mere scuff marks. It takes more than a few shots before he succeeds in dialing in the exact power level he is aiming for.

“That’s a pretty noticeable change. Nothing like what my firebolt crystals could do, but,” he trails off with a shrug. “I carried them specifically so I could hit harder than anypony would have expected.” He fires a few more blasts, showing no difficulty at all, then turns to face her.

“Excellent. You may try a basic light spell next,” she instructs. “I still cannot believe you had over thirty crystals on you. Exactly how did you intend to use those?”

“Escape was always Plan A, princess.”

“Wise.”

“If that failed then Plan B was to yell.”

“Ah, yes. I recall the report.” The statement gets a curious look from the colt. “The incident report with Cpl. Flare was part of the packet along with your talent registration. Standard procedure is to include all related documents.”

“Gotcha. We’re cool now; me and him. And Mrs. Dance. I normally wouldn’t say, but since they’re both guards and you’re their Commander in Chief, they’re expecting twin colts now. So are another set of parents. Others specifically asked that I ensure they don’t get pregnant so they could enjoy the season without worry.”

“I see. I suppose such subjects will be unavoidable for you. I am relieved you have the maturity to deal with them.”

Shrugging, Cure points out, “It’s one of the very most basic of biological needs, boss. Species that suck at reproducing don’t last long. Like I keep tellin ya, it’s far from the grossest part of our body.”

“I suppose. Are the other expecting parents pegasi as well?”

He takes a second to think before answering. “Are you ordering me to tell you? They’re not guards, and saying what tribe they belong to will really narrow it down a lot. I’m sure you could find out pretty easily, but…”

The answer gets a smile from the princess as she shakes her head no. “I am not. Though if I’m not mistaken only Heavy Lift, Glacial Breeze, and Sapphire Sprint live with both parents and are not guards. I suppose Dawn Glow’s dam is not one either since you indicated you only mentioned it because they’re both guards.”

“Yep. I’m sure you’ll know soon enough, but without their okay to share I won’t unless you order it, which I would still object to.”

“Good. Ponies show a lot of trust in you. I would be disappointed if you did not honor it.”

“Right, I’m on the same page with ya there. I’m not even super enthusiastic about sharin what I did, but… I mean, they do report to you, ultimately, and you have the right to know your troops’ readiness.”

Pausing for a moment to focus, Cure successfully casts the light spell. “Eh, even with the magic comin faster that wasn’t a problem. I don’t have enough juice to really overpower anything but maybe a cantrip. I bet this is what unicorns have that I was lacking; raw magical power.” He turns and fires a few weak Fire Bolts and Missile spells at the target, seemingly with no difficulty, then is just about to return to the subject of their discussion, halting when he is interrupted by a shout.

A loud “Auntie!” sounds out from the maze’s direction. Both turn north to find a pair of unicorns flanked by three foals; a colt and two fillies. Trailing behind them is a trio of guards similarly bedecked as the princess’s own honor guard. Cure immediately recognizes, if not the pony, the appearance; though the Blueblood from the show is likely this stallion’s great, great grandson, the familiar resemblance is astounding.

Ponies do usually have a coat like one parent or another, though sometimes the board seems to get flipped and out pops a foal that looks nothing like either of them. Crosswind Drift is a notable example, though since his visit during estrus he has wondered on occasion if Tailwind may not actually be her or her younger sister’s sire. Both parents are white, after all, so her being a dark purple and Swirling Leaf having a green coat is a little strange, but again, ponies.

It’s not like he’s not a slight oddity either. His mom’s green and yellow could certainly lead one to accept the possibility of a blue and green colt, but it’s still a tad odd. His little sister’s blue mane leads him to believe that perhaps his sire’s dam is a little more colorful than the browns that make up the rest of his biological relations on that side of the family.

Cure has seen a number of ponies he would call white. The princess has always been the standard bearer for that, something he had always chalked up to her link to the source of all light in the world. Glacial’s dam is probably the next closest, and her crystal pony heritage breaks that up a little. The stallion and his foals are right there with the boss lady on the color palette, to the point where he suspects there’s some artificial coloring at play.

Cure was able to mimic the color for his Bunletstia disguise, but the thought of nearly glowing like that everywhere makes him nearly shudder in revulsion. Standing out in a crowd is something he’s not even remotely interested in doing, a problem that will start showing itself when his mane and tail start acting up in a half decade or so.

Cure can’t help but notice how the, now standing, princess lets out a subtle sigh as the family approaches. They slow their nearly prance-like trot as they carefully walk around any of the currently unoccupied sparring areas between the groups, likely to avoid the torn up patches of dirt and occasional divot from spellfire. The group’s slight widening of the eyes and unsubtle glances in his direction don’t escape his notice as they close the last fifty meters to come within normal talking distance.

Unlike what he recalls from the cartoon, Prince Blueblood XLV, if Celestia’s memory serves, is wearing a crown and a gold ornamental peytral rather than some weird tuxedo half-shirt. He’s also not as broad-chested and thick as the animated depiction. He is still, after all, a unicorn, and from the looks of him he has rarely done anything physical in his entire life.

Cure would hesitate to call him fat, exactly, but he is definitely on the fluffier side, as are most adult unicorns outside of the Guard. What stands out the most, though, is his height. He is exceptionally tall for a unicorn, likely only a couple inches shorter than Deed is now, or about as tall as he started off back in October.

The mare, while also comfortably in the range of what one would describe as white, is the much more common “white but with a hint of color visible” tone that seems far more natural. She is also quite tall for a unicorn mare, similarly matching Cure’s moms, though again she lacks the broader barrel, thicker neck, more muscular legs, and larger hooves that only an earth pony would have. At least she has some color to her; she and her daughters have manes of a royal blue in contrast to the stallion and colt’s bright gold.

Cure can’t deny that all three girls are quite pretty. The long-legged appearance he recalls seeing portrayed by Fluer de Lis is quite the sight on the dam and oldest, and the way they nearly dance as they make their way over naturally draws the eyes to the sway of their hips and tails, as does the slight extra bounce of their manes. He estimates the older of the pair to be around twelve and the younger closer to ten, a realization that forces him to consciously keep control of his ears, wings, and tail so as to not show his disinterest in meeting the group.

The colt is, as Celestia described, a teenager, and just a little shorter than Solar at around ten and a half hooves tall. He might as well be a clone of his sire, as the pair certainly couldn’t be mistaken for anything but son and father as they prance in near lockstop side-by-side.

“Auntie, I cannot begin to tell you how relieved I am that you are well! When I witnessed that terrible beast shoot out of the sky at the castle I nearly fainted in worry that somepony was launching some kind of attack!” As he’s talking he walks right up to Celestia, rears back, and wraps her in a hug. She is quick to wrap a wing around his back and pull their chests together, pressing the side of her neck against his at the same time.

“Worry not, nephew. All is well. It has not been officially announced, but as you can see,” she explains, separating and tilting her head to Cure, “a new alicorn was born. Though he is using an alias temporarily to more gradually adapt to the public life, please say hello to the soon-to-be Prince…” she pauses in thought and gives Cure a long look before smiling, “Serpentus… Yes, that feels right. The display above the city was the result of his transformation.”

The new moniker gets a raised brow from Cure, who can barely hold back a giggle at the suggestion.

”Serpentus, this is my nephew Prince Vladimir Blueblood the forty-fifth; his wife, Lady Noble Due; son, Vladimir the forty-sixth; and daughters, Azure Tiara and Misty Twilight.”

The youngest’s name sends a jolt through Cure’s system, but he doesn’t let it show in his reaction. No doubt hundreds of ponies have similar names, so he chalks it up to coincidence. It’s not as if Ferric and Starlight are related somehow after all, and they have the same second name. Nor was Lemon aware of any relation between her and Solar’s ex-marefriend when Cure asked her about it.

“A new alicorn!” the stallion joyously shouts. He prances up to Cure and, in one quick motion, scoops him up into a tight, sideways hug, sitting on his rear and smooshing the colt’s left side into his chest and peytral while shouting, “Congratulations, young colt! I did not even believe it to be possible!” As he sets Cure down he more quietly comments, “Goodness, he’s a heavy one, isn’t he?” Looking between the princess and Cure, he comments, “I wonder if alicorn colts are always so robust.”

“You’re pretty tall yourself, mister,” Cure notes aloud. Looking between him and his foals he asks, “Was your dam or sire an earth pony maybe?”

Cure distinctly hears a halted snort come from Celestia’s throat, and the unicorn visibly recoils at the suggestion. All four members of his family look genuinely offended as well, though they all remain quiet, merely observing the future royal. “Maker forbid, no! The Blueblood family line can be traced back far beyond the founding of the nation and is comprised only of the finest stock of each generation, naturally.”

“Oh? So your family’s all just really tall unicorns?”

“Why, of course they are. For over fifty generations!”

Cure gives them all a blatant up-down look before commenting, “Weird. I coulda swore you must be part earth pony. You’re almost as tall as my sire.”

A frown crosses the stallion’s face as he looks to his right, shooting the princess an arched brow in question. At her minute nod a look of shock crosses his features and, in a whisper that is way, way too loud to escape Cure’s improved hearing, he asks, “The dam too?”

While the response wasn’t full-on insulting, the tone with which he asks the question does nothing to hide his distaste at the very notion Cure comes from such lowborn stock. It doesn’t paint the prince in a good light but doesn’t quite rise to the level where Cure feels the need to get angry. Instead, he simply answers the question before the princess does, though in the flattest “I’m done with you” tone he can manage. “Yes… ‘the dam’ too, your highness.”

“Quite right,” Celestia confirms with a nod. “Both of Serpentus’ parents are earth ponies, just as he was before. As I am the Alicorn of the Sun, I believe that once he grows into his power more he will be the Alicorn of Life. A fitting mantle for an earth pony, if you ask me.”

“Interesting,” the stallion comments while giving Cure an analyzing appraisal. “Do you suppose young Serpentus is going to be as tall as you are, auntie?”

“Very likely, yes. In fact, from what I’ve seen he’ll likely be at least a hoof taller. It seems reasonable once he’s fully grown, being a stallion and all. He will likely be far more broad given his heritage and physique as well.”

The suggestion catches Cure slightly off guard as well. He’d originally made his alicorn suit the height it is based off of the tall earth pony he’d seen at the rodeo. Celestia isn’t quite a hoof shorter than that stallion was, so it’s entirely possible that if a unicorn mare could grow to her height upon ascension an earth pony stallion could end up significantly larger.

He isn’t completely opposed to being slightly taller than her, especially when he should have sufficient magic capacity to Reduce himself to whatever size he needs, but the thought of, by default, being two or more hooves taller does not appeal to him at all.

“Goodness!” he exclaims, looking between Cure and Celestia, trying to imagine somepony even larger than his auntie.

“Your highness?” Cure softly calls, looking in Blueblood’s direction. The tonal change catches both royals off guard as they give him their undivided attention. “I’m not accusing anypony of anything, by any means, but if I witnessed a possible attack on an area I would likely not then take my entire family there.”

He continues over the unicorn starting to open his mouth, he’s guessing, to refute the suggestion of an ulterior motive. “Now granted this is probably the safest place to be under a legitimate mundane siege, but I suspect that, perhaps, somepony may have let slip that an alicorn colt was staying at the castle. While I greatly value my privacy, I am delighted to have the opportunity to meet you all, so thank you very much for coming despite the potential danger.”

“Oh! Oh, you’re quite welcome, Serpentus. I admit,” Blueblood says in a contrite tone, “I was rather eager to meet you and introduce you to my family. It is very likely that, in the future, the two of you,” he motions between his son and Cure, “will work together to better the country. Of course, though you are also quite young, you will someday need a capable mare to stand by your side as well.”

“True. Beside every great stallion is a greater mare, after all. I do have six fillies that may, someday, help keep my foalishness in check.” He pauses to look at Celestia and calls, “Princess, if I may?” At his beckoning head tilt she leans down so she is close enough only she can hear as he whispers. “Do you mind if I tell them I can’t have foals with other ponies normally? I mean... anything about me reflects on you as well.”

She sits up with an understanding “Ah” before answering loud enough for everypony. “No, that is fine, Serpentus. I suspect that sharing that small piece of information may save you many a headache in a few years. I am unconcerned about anypony knowing that about myself.”

She waves Blueblood closer to explain, though she does not lower her voice much, so Cure is fairly sure the wife and his foals can still hear just fine. “I’m sure many have speculated why I have no foals. With Serpentus’ talent he was able to ascertain that, unfortunately, alicorns are typically incompatible with other tribes. He suspects that, with his talent, he may be capable of siring foals at some point, but as he was an earth pony before...”

“Then my foals would presumably be as if I still was,” he finishes.

“I see,” Blueblood slowly says, considering the information. “I appreciate your honesty, young colt, and thank you for being so forthright, auntie.”

“Of course, nephew.”

“Sure thing. Besides, like I said, I already, sort of, have six fillyfriends. I know unicorn culture is typically monogamous, so I certainly don’t want to befriend anypony under false pretenses.” He pauses to glance towards the fillies, “Though I could always use more friends,” he adds.

“I thought perhaps I misheard you,” Celestia says. “I had assumed seven. Is … the older sister not?”

“Dunno. She does have a coltfriend, last I heard. If the day comes that I find myself capable of knowing what a mare is actually thinking I’ll probably get awarded another horn and a second set ‘a wings.”

The joke gets a faux pout from the princess, but Blueblood’s family gets a chuckle out of it; the stallion himself erupts in a deep laugh while nodding vigorously. “Maker above, young colt, I do believe that would be a truly monumental achievement!”

“As if stallions are any less confusing sometimes,” Celestia complains with a roll of her eyes. Noble Due is quick to second the suggestion.

“Food, an occasional drink, and the company of a pretty lady,” Cure says, waggling his brows while nudging the prince with his shoulder. “Dunno what’s confusin ‘bout that. If ya got those what else do ya need?”

“Wise words!” he shouts, laughing again in a nod. “Clearly you have wisdom well beyond your years, Serpentus. Dear me, though, I believe we may have interrupted your afternoon.” He regards the target, noting the slight damage done and turns to Celestia asking, “I am assuming you were teaching him magic? His progress is stupendous if he’s only just started.”

“He had already studied magic, even before his transformation. We were simply ensuring that he had a proper grasp on his abilities before he returns home tomorrow.”

The wife, Noble Due, speaks up. In a strong, authoritative voice she asks, “Will you not be staying at the castle?”

“He will not for now,” Celestia answers.

“I may buy a weekend house here when I’m older, or maybe we’ll completely relocate. I’m only eight; I don’t want to leave my family yet or force them to relocate. We’re not from Canterlot. There’s also all my friends I would miss.”

“Ah yes, that does present a dilemma,” Blueblood nods in agreement. “Perhaps I could be of assistance finding an appropriate manor when the time comes. I do have several properties around the city; one only needs so many guest homes, I suppose.”

“That would be fantastic!” Noble agrees. “You have the one property in Barnaby Woods that we haven’t used in years.” She turns to Cure and continues, “It’s a lovely estate in the northeast quarter. Quiet, secluded, and perfect for a young stallion with a large family.”

“Yes, quite right,” Blueblood agrees. “And it’s just down the street as well. Will you be in town for the Summer Sun Celebration next month? I would be delighted to host you and your family there if you would like. Who knows? Maybe you’ll simply fall in love with the property.”

“We will be announcing plans in regards to the Celebration in the coming days. As far as Serpentus himself, I believe he will be staying at the castle,” Celestia says. “He plans on assisting with the summer births; his capabilities make him the finest healer ponykind has likely ever had.”

“Ah. How fortunate for the soon-to-be dams, then.”

“Vladimir, honey,” Noble gently calls. When he turns her direction she motions her head towards the target.

“Oh, yes! Certainly. I believe I saw a fire spell of some kind when we rounded the corner. I apologize if we’ve delayed your examination.”

“All is well, nephew. I do not believe we have much left to test. As you noticed, Serpentus seems to have a good grasp on everything. Though I admit, I don’t recall exactly what we were discussing when we heard you call for me.”

“You’d asked about the crystals,” Cure reminds her.

“That’s right… plans A and B, I believe?”

“Right,” he turns to explain the context to the family. “Her Majesty had asked about several enchanted crystals I was carrying for my own defense. Plans A and B were to flee if I could, call for help if not.”

“Yes, my family has drilled for such an occurrence so we are not completely unprepared should such unpleasantness occur.”

“Good call. I just had an incident on my way to town.”

“Ah, yes. I had heard of the disturbance on the train. No injuries, I hope?”

“The assailants severely underestimated Serpentus’ capabilities,” Celestia explains. “The end result was twenty six subdued attackers and no injuries on either side.”

“Really?” the son asks excitedly. “How were you able to achieve such a thing?”

“Sorry, dude. That’s gotta stay confidential for now. Maybe I can show ya something here in a moment though,” Cure answers with a smirk. “So anyhow, Plan C was to blast away, firing shot after shot until I was the only one left standing, basically.

“That’s where the Fire Bolt, Magic Missile, and Shield crystals come into play. An overwhelming alpha strike to break any shields. Not to mention gas attacks since shields only block air at speed. Or even hordes of venomous insects.”

Celestia nods along right up until the last four words. Thoroughly confused, she cocks her head to the side. “What? But without trees…”

“I’m sorry, venomous insects?” Blueblood inquires.

“Alicorn of Life,” Cure answers in a shrug. He turns to face the target and leans his head back. The group watches with a slight bit of alarm as a bulge seems to grow in his throat over the course of a few seconds. Just as Celestia is about to speak up he snaps his head forward, and with a hacking cough-like noise, launches a hoof sized red fleshy projectile that wetly smacks directly into the center of the target, rocking it slightly on its base.

Every jaw in the area falls open at the display. Celestia, at first, is horrified thinking he had vomited forth some internal organ. Barely able to keep her eyes from bulging out, she watches as only a split second after impact it erupts in a cacophony of angry, buzzing bugs swirling around and landing on the target. Despite herself, she feels a shudder pass through her body.

Every other pony on the range stops and stares, though several of them take a few cautious steps back and Cure watches as one stallion high-tails it out of the area. He turns to find Blueblood has moved to stand behind the princess while his family has retreated to the other side of their guards, the three of whom are staring slack-jawed at the target.

In all fairness, even Celestia has her wings raised slightly in alarm as she intently watches to ensure none of the bugs come their way. At least the son looks adequately impressed, even if he does seem a little apprehensive.

“Those,” he explains with a proud tone. “That group doesn’t have any venom, but between the snakes, spiders, scorpions, tarantulas, drugs at work, and countless other nasty things nature’s come up with that I’ve found you can imagine how unpleasant they could be. Of course, with aim like that I could just fill the thing with modified ants or whatever.

“I guess if I have a clear shot I don’t really need wings and flight muscles, which means I could make the stingers and their abdominal muscles bigger to penetrate scales, feathers, or just a thicker hide. I gotta say the thought of a few dozen skittering scorpions crawlin on me would scare the fudge right out of me if it weren’t for my talent. Alternatively, I could just fill the thing with gas, I suppose.”

“I believe I lack the words to properly convey how I feel,” Celestia slowly intones.

“Evidently my excellence exceeds your eloquence,” he haughtily declares in a nasal tone. He chuckles lightly at the tease as the princess rolls her eyes in exasperation. Blueblood is peeking around her flanks like a scared foal as Cure continues in his normal voice, “The best part is how little magic and mass that uses. Bugs can pack in pretty tight and since those would normally be little more than winged bags of venom they weigh almost nothing, so I could do that a whole bunch’a times until I need to eat something.”

“How many bugs are there,” she asks, still staring at the target.

“Only like fifty. That was only about a half kilogram of mass. I could jam a few hundred ants into a projectile that size, or just use a bigger one when I grow up. Or, cast Reduce on the projectile while forming it and have it release upon impact. It could easily be twice as big that way. Hey, mind if I try something?”

She waves a hoof towards the target. Once again, he draws back his head, launching another ball that lands right on top of the other. It erupts in a smaller number of larger insects that immediately spread out over the target’s surface and land, sitting still. “What-” she begins to ask as the entire target is suddenly blown to pieces in a familiar looking conflagration.

“Woah! Badass!” he shouts, dancing on his hooves in glee. He smiles and waves a wing to the unicorns down the line that applaud the display. Celestia suspects they did not see exactly what he did. Or, perhaps, those are ponies she needs to keep a closer eye on.

“By the maker!” he hears Blueblood Sr. quietly exclaim.

“Was that from your latest scan?” Celestia warily asks.

“Sort of. It doesn’t have any magic in it, just biochemistry. The bugs had two chambers in ‘em. They were basically just big ‘ol sacks of oil and acid that ignited when they mixed in their bodies. I guess I don’t really need all those Fire Bolt crystals after all. Then again, I can’t do that much ‘cause it uses a lot of oil up. I probably need to up my fish intake, or maybe get me some pork,” he finishes, smacking his lips at the thought of nommin some greasy bacon.

“I may have incorrectly assumed your domain,” she dryly notes.

He turns to face the princess and, lacking a hat, reaches up and removes his horn, tipping it instead as he gives a shallow bow. “Serpentus Slytherin’s the name, ma’am, but you can just call me the Alicorn of Awesome.” He paused and tilts his head, “Or maybe the Alicorn of Alliteration? Nah, that sounds like it would get tedious after a while.” He glances at the horn still held in his hoof, then tosses it in the air, catching it on his head in his TK field before putting it back in place just like he’d shown Solar and Dawn months prior.

Between the horn removal and the display, Blueblood apparently decides he’s been sufficiently introduced to the new alicorn. As he backs away, he glances over his withers to ensure his family and their guards are ready to depart as well. “It’s been absolutely wonderful meeting you, Serpentus. Please do reach out when next you visit. I apologize for running off so soon, but there’s much to do and plans to make and so forth, farewell! Goodbye, auntie!” he shouts over his withers, rejoining his family and making a hasty retreat.

Cure can’t help but shake as he holds in a snicker at their retreating forms, waving a wing in goodbye as he watches them disappear around the barracks’ corner.

“I am unsure if I have ever seen him move that quickly,” she notes.

“Aww, I thought he liked me,” Cure fake pouts.

Stifling a giggle, Celestia nods in agreement. “I will admit, that was quite impressive. Though vomiting the… egg sacks?” she asks, getting a nod before continuing, “was somewhat disturbing. Not to mention the casual horn removal. If you had not previously shown as much restraint as you have I would be terrified of letting you loose upon the populace. I suspect between that and the reveal about foals he will probably not insist his daughter pursue you. Your control also seems to be well in hoof, so overall, well done, Cure.”

He nods in acceptance of her praise, beaming a big smile. Tilting his head in wonder, he asks, “Where’d Serpentus come from? That’s not going to be my… like… ‘Prince’ alias, is it?”

“It could be if you approve. I had almost said Serpentor but, for some reason that strikes me as slightly off.”

“Yeah, I’m not evil enough.” The comment gets a raised brow from the mare but he continues without elaborating. “Serpentus will work for now. At least, I can’t think of a better one offhoof,” he tentatively agrees, altering his colors to add a golden scale-like outline pattern to his brown coat. The pattern starts at his snout and goes back his head and down his neck to his chest, over his back, angled so the scales all spread up his legs and converge on his belly. He leaves his mane and tail the darker brown color from his Riddle disguise but adds golden streaks in each, duplicating the gold and brown look on his wings as well.

He lengthens his canines into legitimate fangs and slits his pupils, then smiles broadly at the princess. “How do I look? I woulda changed my wings but I wouldn’t wanna offend the bats or tick off dragons, not to mention seem to be overly not-pony-like.”

“I am fine with the color, and the pattern is very nice, but the eyes…”

“Ah. Duh. Sorry, boss,” he says, changing them back. The whole Nightmare Moon thing slipped his mind temporarily. “How ‘bout the fangs?”

“I don’t think that would make you overly popular. Honestly, as nice as it looks, I really think you should keep a solid color. The pattern is interesting, but, again... not very pony-like.”

“Bah. No fun at all,” he whines, changing them back to purely herbivore teeth and reverting his coat back to the typical brown theme, though he does keep the gold streaks in his mane and tail. “I guess I’ll just stick to a normal look for now. Do you want me to change your teeth or anything? I mean… if you’re not eating meat then what’s the point?”

“Thank you, but I am fine. I have adapted to the change, though I admit it was rather strange when it first occurred.”

“Ah… that’s right. You hadn’t even met a bat yet, huh?”

“No, and to suddenly have unfamiliar teeth in my mouth,” she trails off, scrunching her snout. “Although, some did postulate that there may be a yet undiscovered omnivorous tribe that we were meant to share the attribute with.”

“Yup. Good guess on their part. It makes sense though. I mean, if you’d had fins, logic would dictate there’s an aquatic pony race with that too. Kinda weird we don’t have any crystal pony properties.”

“We do,” she says, glowing white and sparkling for a few seconds before returning to normal. “You need only will the change forth.”

“Damn, boss, that was freakin beautiful. I can duplicate their coats with my talent pretty easily,” he explains, altering his coat to add the sparkly shine of a yellow gemstone before reverting back.

At the pause in conversation she gives the remains of the target a long look and tilts her head in curiosity. “I can’t help but wonder if ascending at such an early age may allow you to grow into your abilities more naturally than an adult that similarly goes through the transformation would.”

“Yeah, probably. I mean, it’s a large change relatively speaking, but overall it’s less of a change than Solar has probably gone through since we started hanging out last September.”

“True. This has taken less time than I expected, though. Is there anything you would like to do?”

“I dunno. Do you go out on the town very often just to… do stuff? Like, hit a store or whatever?”

“Of course. Spending time with my little ponies is one of my greatest joys.” She looks back towards the corner of the building and adds, “Normally, that is.”

“In disguise or au naturale?”

“The latter more than the former. I only use a disguise when I am trying not to draw attention, like coming to see how much chaos a certain colt has stirred up. You’ll have to tell me how you knew my alias some day, you do realize?”

“That’s easy, boss. I knew it was you ‘cause you’re so hot, ya know?”

She gives him a completely flat look.

“You remember I said I can sense heat, don’t ya?” She nods, still maintaining the deadpan expression. “So once I established it hadta be the hottest mare on the planet I said to myself, ‘Cure, when you cast your eyes outside in the morning,’” he holds a hoof to his muzzle to signal an aside, “ya know, cause that’s what I was doin when I spotted ya?”

“Naturally,” she stoically replies.

Nodding energetically, he continues, “Of course, so I says to myself, ‘What could I see out there that would bring a smile to my face the same as if the boss lady were standin there?’”

“I pray you do not believe half of what comes out of your own mouth,” she comments in a sigh.

“So it just came ta me! A hot mare, shining like a clear, beautiful day. Sunny Skies, duh?”

“It is a good thing you have wings. You would need them to make a jump large enough to reach that conclusion.”

“Boo! Hiss! Various disappointed audience noises! That was weak, boss.”

She huffs and turns her snout up in indignation. “Says the colt that makes plant puns.”

“I beg your garden?! Puns are the highest form of humor! Why, I laughed so hard I almost pead myself!”

“I will banish you.”

“Just ‘cause lilac control?”

She scowls at him, refusing to respond to any more of his taunts.

“Fiiine, I’ll stop. How would you feel about me being seen in public before you’ve had a chance to make an official announcement? I mean… if he hangs out with other hoity-toity nobles they’re all gonna know pretty soon either way.”

“I worry you could cause a disturbance simply due to everypony’s curiosity. A few ponies knowing is fine, but a new alicorn just trotting down the street? With the addition of ponies from Cloudsdale it could cause a lot of commotion. Why?”

“Eh I was gonna go get some crystals and thought about maybe checking out a griffon restaurant like I said the other day. It is lunchtime after all. I also need to get dust to finish Lt. Spear’s suit, and I wouldn’t mind hitting a bookstore. We could go incognito if ya want. Interested?”

“I do have crystals if you would like to replace your lost ones, Cure. More than you can imagine, in all likelihood. I can have some dust delivered to your room from the smith easily enough as well.”

He gives her a considering look for a moment before nodding in acceptance. “If you’re sure you don’t mind, I would appreciate that, princess.”

“You’re not going to fight me on it?” she asks in a tease, masking her slight surprise.

“Nah, I give my friends stuff all the time. It would be a little hypocritical for me to refuse.” The pair stare at the smoldering target for a moment, watching as it burns out completely. “Ready to head back?”

“I am.” As the two begin walking towards the north side-by-side, she looks down and comments, “I am impressed with how quickly you regained control over your magic. I expected at least one miscast from the changes.”

“Eh, I was already going to the range with Solar and Dawn, so I’ve cast all those hundreds of times. Besides, you know I have ridiculous muscle control due to my talent. I learned basic flight in like three hours. At my capacity spell complexity doesn’t matter other than how long it takes for something to actually cast, assuming I have at least enough magic to pull it off.”

“Ah, is that why you want to hit a bookstore?”

“Yep. I suppose I shoulda asked if you have any spellbooks you’d be okay with me looking through. I’m not sure if I’ve mentioned I can memorize any spell in a few seconds, but… yeah.”

She gives him a surprised look as they round the northeast corner of the barracks and turn towards the castle entrance. “I was not aware. I do not recall any such note from Sgt. Haze’s reports.”

“I think I only showed his wife. It’s due to my talent’s ability to remember scans. Eidetic memory when it comes to biology, ya know?” At her nod he continues, “So mom… Title, that is, she suggested I alter a plant’s surface to draw out a spell diagram and commit it to memory. I’m exploiting an aspect of my talent, same as I’ve started to do with direct shaping formulae. I swear this has to be the most unfair talent ever.”

“I think it depends very much on how exactly you use it. Your decision to create treatments rather than trying to fix everypony one at a time, for example. Such a thing may not occur to many until it is pointed out to them. As for any spellbook I have, I am not opposed to granting you access. I am a little hesitant to give you some of the more dangerous spells, but…”

“Every spell I learn makes me less dangerous, princess.”

“My thoughts exactly. Having more options would only be to your benefit. As well as any potential bystander, should the need arise.”

“Right. Odds are I would never need anything but a good shield breaker anyhow. If somepony is unshielded and in range of my aura, which I can increase at will, I don’t exactly need to drop a Firestorm on them or whatever. For the most part Frost or Scorching ray will suffice, but there’s just something about the idea of launchin a big ‘ol Fireball that gets my blood pumpin.”

“Cure… you are not filling me with confidence here.”

“Oh please. Like you didn’t start chuckin balls of fire everywhere when you first learned how.” Celestia doesn’t respond, merely looking away to hide her expression. “Exactly. At least I can undo any damage I cause.”

The two walk for a moment in silence before she lightly mumbles, “Tag.”

“Tag?” Cure asks.

Sighing, Celestia nods. “We played tag.”

“With… Fireballs?!”

“Weak ones, yes. Or Ice Bolts, or whatever other spell we had just learned. We shielded ourselves, of course, so no harm was done. We… did not always conduct ourselves as princesses should.”

“That’s pretty hardcore, boss. Maybe when I get older we can try that. You can use fire, I’ll use my special attack. The first one I showed you.”

She looks in his direction with a scowl.

“If you ever shoot that… projectile at me I will throw more than a ball of fire at you.”

“Boo! A big bully! That’s what you are! Pickin on adorable little colts. Like you couldn’t just torch any bug that landed on you.”

“I could. And anypony whom I find responsible for them as well,” she answers, still scowling.

“Fiiine!” he whines. She gives him another second’s glance before turning towards the castle as they round the corner of the barracks.

The two walk in silence for a moment until Cure glances past her towards the building.

“Hey, princess?”

“Hmm?”

“What kind of reaction do you think we would get if we walked in there,” he waves his left wing at the building, “and said hi to the ponies and zebras that tried to take me?”

Humming in thought, she looks at the building in consideration. “I suspect the ponies would despair at the notion they were sent after an alicorn. Little would be gained, though, as the only one that seems to know who hired them is Green Slip. He has remained quiet; likely hoping for some offer of clemency in exchange for revealing the contractee, as we discussed.”

“I had thought about the idea of lettin Slip out,” he confesses. “I considered suggesting I alter one of your guard’s appearance instead, but…”

“They would not know where to go or who to expect,” she finishes. “It had occurred to me as well. I also considered we may be placing him in danger, but…”

“All we’re really doing is letting him go. If he is in danger it’s his own fault.”

“Precisely. The zebras… I admit, I am unsure how they would react. I suspect that some would be furious at being given incomplete information, more so than they likely already are. I do not believe it would do us any good.”

“And the ambassador doesn’t care that they tried to nab an alicorn?”

“He suggested it was a fabrication in order to put unwarranted pressure on him.”

Cure nods his head back and forth, “Ehh, he wasn’t completely wrong, so credit where it’s due. How do you plan on explaining the big snake after you already told ‘em I was an alicorn?”

“You were an alicorn,” she states. “You could fly, use unicorn magic, and had the resilience and vitality of an earth pony, did you not?”

“I suppose.”

“The only noteworthy change is that you gained pegasus magic. The display did occur in the sky, after all.”

Taken aback, Cure puts a hoof on his chest. “Why, princess!” In a hushed voice he accuses, “That’s so dishonest of you!”

“Not dishonest. Just not forthcoming,” she defends.

Thrusting a hoof in her direction, he throws his judgment upon her. “Misleading!” When she shoots back an incredulous look he smiles and nods. “I approve. I wouldn’t want to meet the dude, but if it would help I could prove that there really is another alicorn…”

“I do not believe applying logic will help, though I do appreciate the offer. I would not expose you to either the prisoners or a foreign ambassador without your parents blessing anyhow. He can see his proof at your coronation, or at least hear of it. They will conspicuously remain uninvited. Even if he believed you it is unlikely he would suddenly tell us everything we wish to know. Doing so may expose whatever source of information they have.”

“Fair. Are they going to get a lot of grief from other nations?”

“Some suspicion, I’m sure. If they’re conducting operations here then it will cause other nations to wonder as well. Once word gets out, that is. Like we were before, and technically still are, many nations are beholden to them for their healing abilities, so the overall impact will be limited.”

“Huh… there’s a thought; what are you going to do when other nations ask for my trees?”

“Are they even safe for races other than ponies?”

“Yes? I mean, obviously hippogriffs, and given they exist then griffons have to be awfully close to us, so I would expect them to work. Minotaurs and zebras, too, as best I can tell. Do you know Dr. Mending Care?”

“I know the name. She’s the Chief Physician in Baltimare if I’m not mistaken.”

“Right. She made an offhoof comment once about how similar most creatures in the planet are despite differing morphology. If what she said is accurate then I would expect the trees to work for almost anycreature. Especially with the way the sample slots basically clone whatever is inserted.”

“I see. Despite the potential I doubt much of the international community will show an interest. At least not for several years. No doubt word will get back as griffon and minotaur visitors mention your creations to their leaders, but I am hopeful that the Zebrican economy has time to recalibrate before another income source is denied them. It’s not as if we’ll completely stop buying their goods overnight either, but that will taper off over the coming years if all goes well.

“Fortunately for them, their lands are exceedingly rich in natural resources, so even if their medicinal exports decrease they have other sources of income available. I can foresee griffons and, much more so, dragons refusing to accept something if only due to it being from a pony. Then again, a parent watching a suffering chick or cub will likely attempt anything if circumstances are dire.

“Minotaurs… they are generally very strict about the tenets of nature. I suspect they may reject your trees as abominations, but again…”

“Right, again, got a sick foal, or calf I guess?” When she nods he continues, “Then saying ‘no thanks’ will be a lot harder. Feel free to use those as bargaining chips however you see fit when it comes to any negotiations. I’ll defer to your judgment on that stuff,” he says, shrugging his wings. “You are ultimately paying for them, after all.”

“I appreciate your trust, Cure.”

“It’s only fair. And you seem to know what you’re doin. For the most part, at least.”

“Such a glowing review of my performance. I am beyond ecstatic.”

“You should be. Keep up the good work and maybe we can see about gettin ya a raise. Four percent sounds fair. Shame ‘bout rounding, but in about thirteen years maybe we can get ya that second bit.”

“How generous of you,” she idly comments as the pair approach the castle.

“So… if you’re not down for a big ‘ol ham sammich then what’s for lunch?”

To Cure’s mild disappointment they ended up eating at the palace. Not wanting to push too much on a topic she isn’t terribly keen on, he stopped pestering her about meat and instead just enjoyed her company. It was a nice, quiet lunch where they mainly discussed some of the year-end events happening at her school over the coming weeks.

Cure is somewhat shocked at the low attendance numbers, but that is a recurring thing for him. He had expected class sizes of a hundred at a minimum, but this year’s graduating class has only thirty-six students. The vast majority of them are finishing their second year, but a half dozen are earning the Equestrian version of a master’s degree with two slightly older mares preparing presentations to earn their Ph. D.s.

The thought of doing all the work necessary to earn a Ph. D., even with his mental age, sounds daunting to the colt, so the fact that a few girls in their mid to late teens are going for that achievement is damned impressive in his book. The princess seems extremely proud of her students too, and strongly encourages government agencies to recruit new graduates to put them on the path to eventual leadership positions.

That strikes Cure as probably being a little unfair. The school does focus on a lot other than just casting spells, so the graduates do have a well rounded, and relatively speaking, advanced education compared to much of the population. The problem is that it’s almost exclusively a unicorn school. There are a few other tribe members that graduate each year, but he has to wonder if they’re only being let in so the tribalism isn’t completely blatant at a glance. There’s also other universities which, as far as Cure knows, don’t discriminate.

After a quick lunch Celestia dismisses her guards for the day and the pair head to the palace’s library. She picks a book for herself and a spell tome for Cure and they make themselves comfortable in, if Cure has the name right, the princess’s private solar. The name seems correct as it is located on the south side of the palace with large windows and a balcony door letting in plenty of light.

There’s a desk similar to the one in her office and several princess-sized couches spread throughout the room; some closer to the windows and others out of direct sunlight. Several pillows are on each couch so a pony could lay in almost any position and remain comfortable for hours on end.

A shelf is near the door with several crystal-powered reading lights and bookstands. There’s also several end tables spread throughout the room. The princess moves one close to a couch and hops up, setting her stand and book up on it.

She twists slightly so she’s laying on her barrel with her hind legs to the side, so Cure is quick to accept the unspoken invitation. With a book and two stands floating behind him he quickly hops up and props his stand and book up, laying against her side to use her left shoulder as a pillow and her soft tummy as a back warmer.

“What’s the second stand for?”

“I was gonna show you my cheat. Don’t freak out, okay?”

“I would normally dismiss the notion of a foal being able to shock me as ridiculous, but given that display earlier I’m somewhat less confident now.”

“Well I didn’t think to grab one of my plants, so I’ll have to use myself.”

“Your… self?” she inquires, watching as his coat on his left side disappears, leaving smooth, unblemished skin. The layer of skin comes off as a sheet, revealing another underneath, upon which his fur immediately regrows. “Strange, I’ll grant, but given the lack of pained cries, not exactly upsetting.”

“Yeah, that’s definitely a better skin removal method than some. So anyhow, this is my page of notes, essentially.”

“Ah, so you can duplicate anything you read on there?”

“That’s what I did with version one of the idea. And yes, the second stand is for when I just want to make note of something, but for just straight copying, assuming you don’t mind?” he asks, pausing to look up. She quickly shakes her head no, so he continues, “for pure copying I can use an adaptation from spiders that’s probably the same thing chameleons do.”

The sheet turns nearly completely transparent as he flips open the book to a chapter about spatial magic; a complicated field that few mages show interest in aside from the basic Reduce and Enlarge spells. The spell diagram he focuses on is complex, requiring a strong grasp of mathematics and the ability to visualize three dimensional space accurately.

“Bend space? That’s badass,” he quietly murmurs. He lays the sheet on the open book and, within a couple seconds, an exact duplicate of both pages is made. “See, it’s got a photoreactive pigment in it that darkens. I guess I’m, in a way, photo-copying the book.”

“An ingenious idea.”

“Yep. Ma didn’t hesitate to lord it over me too. Whatever, credit where it’s due. I probably would have come up with it eventually, but it’s not even her talent and she saw it right away. The thing here is that even if I have a mental image of the page it is just that. I’m sure you’ve met ponies that can regurgitate facts but lack that spark needed to effectively apply them to real life?”

“Yes. That’s generally accepted to be a difference between intelligence and wisdom.”

“True. Similar concept here. I have these scans in a file drawer, but I have to go ‘read’ them to absorb the knowledge. It’s a lot faster than actual reading and my retention is nearly perfect, but it’s not exactly instant. It’s the same way with any scan, which is a necessity for the talent to be feasible, I think. That much info crammed in somepony’s brain would probably cause a stroke or something.”

“So you can mentally duplicate the material and review it as needed. It begs the question then, if the information is essentially stored in a way you must consciously access, how does that work?”

“I’ve pondered on it more than once, boss. I’m pretty sure we’re not purely corporeal beings. At least, I hope not at this point. I’m not entirely sure how to process that tidbit.”

The answer gets a very surprised look from the mare. “Could you elaborate on that?”

“Well, if we’re purely physical creatures then Cure Wave died today in a rather energetic eruption at about nine thirty and Celestia died to poisoning however long ago. Or, even before that when she ascended, I suppose.”

He had expected a response, but none came for a moment, so he continues the line of thought. “I figure that the metaphysical side of our existence… our souls, I guess, for lack of a better word… that’s the real us, even if the physical bodies we occupy are tethered somehow. Maybe some kind of codependent relationship? I dunno. I didn’t wanna upset my parents, but physically, biologically, I’m not even their son as the watch enchantment so mercilessly proved.”

“I admit,” Celestia begins, “I have had similar thoughts several times over the centuries. I believe the act of, as you say, dying, in a way, forces one to confront such possibilities. Are you… okay? It’s a somewhat scary prospect.”

He lays fully against her, nuzzling into her shoulder with his cheek. Even though he’s had these thoughts several times since the memories came he still enjoys the physical comfort from the warm mare. “Yeah. I kinda suspected something along those lines after I got my talent; basically for the same reason you cited. If there was a physical part of my brain storing the data from my talent then I should see neurons firing when I use it.”

“And you do not?”

“Nope. No more than any other time I’m using magic. No overt heightened activity in my brain, certainly not in the parts that store memories. Given how much info I’m taking in with each scan there definitely should be a lot of activity. The fact that using my talent burns magic instead of a physical energy source like sugars means there’s probably some metaphysical construct attached to my being that’s housing the information until I call on my talent to access it.”

“Fascinating. That’s a very good point.” She shifts so she can reach over with her long neck and gently nuzzles into his mane between his ears, just behind his horn. “If you ever want to simply talk, feel free to either come here in pony or, I suppose, step into the astral. Just know that I may not always be able to immediately come if, for example, I am in a meeting or in court.”

He leans up into her chin, turning his head to the side to return the friendly affection. “Sure. Thanks, princess. I have my parents to talk to also. My dam is a little more emotional than is sometimes helpful, but Title and Amethyst are both very pragmatic about stuff. Lemon’s not bad either, but she’s not always the most insightful. Dad’s kinda the same way, but he’s good for a understanding ear even if he doesn’t have an answer to the problem.

“Between them and, for lighter subjects, my friends, it seems to me I got plenty of ponies to talk to, so right back at ya, highness. If you ever need an honest opinion, even if not fully informed, feel free to send me a letter and I can hop in and tell ya what yer doin wrong.”

“I do have some ponies whom I can entrust to do the same, but you have shown a certain unique perspective and insight that I may occasionally solicit.”

“Darn right. After all, I’m almost as smart as I am adorable,” he teases, fluffing up his untrapped wing and poofing out his chest.

“It is a near thing, isn’t it?”

“You bet! So, tell me… How many times did you use this spell to make somepony’s own attack smack them? And just so you know, I’ll be sorely disappointed if you didn’t yell ‘stop hitting yourself’ while doing so.”

“I can’t say that I did, but I do have a question regarding your use of the second sheet, if you’ll humor me.”

“Sure. Fire away.”

“The paper, if I am not mistaken, is made from trees, is it not?”

Cure freezes in place, staring at the book. Ever so slowly, he lifts his right hoof, moves it towards his face, and presses it against his forehead.

“I believe that answers my question,” she smugly comments, giggling at the colt’s continued facehoof.

He found that he could scan the paper and, for the life of him, couldn’t come up with an excuse as to why he hadn’t thought of it before. It was a massive improvement to the speed with which he could duplicate information, but he still couldn’t necessarily ‘process’ it any faster than he could before.

Cure spent a few hours chilling with the boss lady, copying down spell tomes and some magic theory books she recommended. He’ll eventually get some use out of the latter, he’s sure, but for now he just doesn’t have the raw power to do much more complicated than the simplest of spells.

While there is a lot of flexibility in the direct shaping method, the magic requirements are significantly more than doubled. Not only does the magic still need to be supplied just as if runic casting is being used, but instead of using the vibration of a horn to guide the magic it must be done entirely metaphysically; Cure’s muscle enhancements will not help.

The eventual plus side comes later; when a caster is as powerful as the princess is, the entire diagram can be created mentally and reviewed prior to activation. With enough practice, the entire spell can be willed into existence in an instant and activated instead of “typed out” with runes.

Not only is casting faster, but once the syntax of the spell structures is figured out the versatility is virtually infinite, and any opportunity for a counterspell during casting is negated. While simple works can still be overpowered, one also had the option of attaching wasteful magic sinks to instruction, giving the caster a way to dump excess power into parts of the spell that effectively do nothing.

The classic method of doing so is to have opposing heating and cooling commands counteracting each other. Even altering a moderate section of air is energy intensive, so appending modified Warming and Cooling cantrips counteracting each other is a great way to siphon off excess power.

The end result is that energy is used to do both, but no temperature change actually occurs. Very few mages are powerful enough that this is a major concern for all but the simplest of spells. Unicorns like Solar or his sire can cast cantrips easily as long as they’re paying attention; it’s only heavy hitters like Arcane that need to be extra careful.

Cure isn’t exactly sure how powerful the unicorn is, but if his grandsire’s description of the stallion’s capabilities are correct then it’s very likely the creatures that came to foalnap him are fortunate not to have incurred the battlemage’s scorn.

It was around four o’clock when others started showing back up, starting with Ferric and Heavy being escorted by a castle servant. They had apparently just come from the room because both were freshly showered. They are initially hesitant to hop up and snuggle with the princess, but at Cure’s silent, head tilt invitation they both join him against her tummy.

Celestia seems thrilled to have more foals laying against her. If Cure could think of a tactful way to do so, he would invite her to either crash with them tonight or see if they could all go to her room and pile on top of her to sleep. Ponies are a herd species, and he has no way of knowing when the last time the lady has had a good ‘ol fashioned snuggle pile on her. Too long, he bets.

Ferric uses Cure’s lower back as a pillow with a book to her left, reading over his left wing, and Heavy faces the other direction, tucking his tail to keep from blocking her book while happily snuggling into her left hip.

The pegasi came back shortly after and, though they were initially rowdy and a bit noisy, were quick to pick up on the vibe. Cure hits them each with a cleaning to whisk away their sweat and sets aside his book to hear about their success.

Drift all but dances up to the couch bragging about her sister’s victory. “Sissy totally kicked flank up there! Especially on the obstacle course. First place!” she finishes in a cheering shout, bumping the older filly with a shoulder playfully.

“Sure did, and third in the five K,” Wind proudly says, digging the case containing her gold medal out of her bag. “A few other fillies had marks that made them faster, but on the sharp turns I was able to leave ‘em in my wake. They beat me in the pure speed competitions,” she shrugs in acceptance, “but that’s okay.”

“You’ll get there,” Cure assures her. “Were they older?”

“The two that won were. They’re both turning fifteen next month, so they had a huge advantage.”

“Third place is very impressive, Wind Shear,” Celestia compliments. “And your victory at the obstacle course is fantastic. As I understand it you’ve not even had your mark for a year, so if you return again next year I am certain you’ll do quite well.” The praise brings a big smile to the filly, who ducks her head in thanks.

“How’d you two do, Glacial?”

“We got fifth and sixth place in the races. Not so hot at the obstacle course, unfortunately, but we haven’t practiced sharp turns very much.”

“We were also some of the youngest there, and Glacial beat everypony that didn’t have a mark.”

“Nice. Congrats, ladies. We’ll definitely come back next year. I’m not sure if I’ll be allowed to compete, though.”

“You would have a huge advantage even without your talent’s capabilities,” the princess points out. “Perhaps you can participate, but not as a ranking competitor.”

“Maybe the others will see you as somepony to beat,” Ferric quietly suggests. “Assuming you do well.”

“Eh, with earth pony strength I should. Then again, even in a year I’ll have way less experience than most of the competitors. They’ll have been flyin for eight or so years. Anypony with a special talent will whip me.”

“You just need to practice more!” Drift eagerly suggests. “Wanna go fly around the castle some?” Her eyes flick to the big white pillow they’re all laying against. “Princess? Could you come fly with us?”

“What’ll Heavy and Ferric do? I hate to just leave ‘em. I’ve barely been around Ferric, especially, this whole trip.”

“I don’t mind,” Ferric softly answers.

Rolling his eyes, Cure can’t help but remark, “Red, you’re a gentle soul. I worry you wouldn’t say anything even if you wanted nothing more than to chill out. I’ll tell ya what, I’ll make it up to the both of you tonight. Whenever we go back to our room, I’ll give you each a hand massage.”

Two loud, excited gasps sound out from the pegasi drawing everypony’s attention. Both Drift and Glacial’s wings are up, fluttering in excitement. “Us too?” Glacial asks hopefully.

“Maybe on the train?” he suggests. “We’ll have the whole trip so I can really work everypony over.”

“Hand massages?” Celestia inquires.

“Oh my stars, they’re the best!” Glacial gushes in answer as she hops up to give Cure an enthusiastic nuzzle.

Drift is bobbing her head excitedly too, but it’s Wind that provides context. “Both our dams got massages from him the week before he knocked ‘em up.” Ferric almost recoils off his back and Heavy’s head whips around so fast Cure, for a moment, was worried he snapped a vertebrae. “He changes his forehooves into hands. Dam and sissy have gone on and on about them.”

“Damnit, Wind,” he sighs. “First off, phrasing,” she gives him a shit-eating grin, “second, patient confidentiality!”

“Neither of our dams care,” Glacial insists. She looks to the princess and clarifies, “He gave them each a second egg; we’re both having twin brothers. Daddy and Mr. Flare can’t say enough nice things about Cure.”

Face full of annoyance, Drift nods along. “Ugh, no doubt. And all we’ve heard since then is how excited they are to finally have colts on the way.”

“He doesn’t mean anything by it,” Wind reassures her sister, squeezing her to her side in a wing hug. “He was just as excited when dam was pregnant with Swirl too.”

Drift shrugs and mumbles, conceding the point.

“Glacial, Drift, and Dawn are the only three I’ve done that to. Well, Solar and Star too. I had promised him a massage for a Basic graduation present, and the whole family was there when I delivered, so about an hour and a half later I had five snoring unicorns to deal with. That’ll give us something to do on the way home to pass the time. They’ll be more thorough than what I normally do since I won’t have to rush ‘em.”

“You should totally have him do you too, your highness!” Glacial insists, looking up to the princess.

“I may observe for now. I believe the size difference would make it exceedingly difficult for him to do much.”

“Dam said he used a spell,” Wind comments. “It makes him bigger.”

“Yeah, but even at double the size the boss lady is a lot taller. I have other tricks I can use, but I gotta warn ya, princess,” he says, looking up to meet her eyes. “You’ll be a moaning, drooling mess. I know as the princess ya gotta maintain the whole ‘dignity of the station’ and whatnot, but you’ll hafta accept the inevitable if you’re interested. You shoulda seen Drift the first time.”

“The sleepover?” Heavy asks. Drift grumbles something about him cheating under her breath at the same time. Wind gives her a curious look and asks about the event, prompting Glacial to give a retelling while the colts continue.

“Mmhmm. Remember that makeover?” Cure asks then barks out a laugh.

“Whatever, dude. I definitely remember you tackling me and throwing me to the wolves.”

“Yeah,” he mumbles, smiling fondly. “Good times.”

“My sire freaked out when she screamed at the end,” Ferric reminds them with a barely suppressed giggle.

“I’m not sure if I should be concerned,” Celestia mildly says, giving Cure an evaluating look.

He shrugs innocently back. “It’s a purely medical massage. I did the same thing, a more thorough version even, to Solar right in front of his parents, marefriend, my parents, and Dawn. I’ll admit, giving another dude a horn massage was a tad… uhh… awkward,” he confesses with a cringe.

Celestia straight up snorts trying to hold back a laugh, then quickly turns away to wipe her face with a summoned handkerchief. Wind doesn’t even try to hold it back; both her and Drift almost fall on top of each other laughing uproariously.

“I don’t get it,” Glacial admits. “What’s funny about a unicorn getting a horn massage? Isn’t that normal?”

“Duuuude,” Heavy slowly drawls out.

“It’s… umm… a very intimate part,” Ferric quietly explains while blushing brilliantly.

“Yeah, like our wings or your hooves, so what?”

Cure missed the first part, mainly because the girl was laughing so hard while trying to talk, but the five words out of Wind’s mouth he, and everypony else, manages to catch are, “horn looks like a boner!”

Glacial takes a second to process it, but Cure figures the visual finally renders in her brain. The girl turns straight scarlet as her jaw falls open and her eyes widen comically before she bursts out in a fit of giggles, burying her face under his wing. He has to fight back the urge to squirm from her muzzle vibrating in laughter, tickling against his side.

“I’m not sure I want a massage now, dude. I definitely don’t want that kind.”

“Yeah, yeah, laugh it up. Just wait till y’all get a UTI or something embarrassing like fleas. Then you’ll be thanking the stars I keep stuff professional.”

Before he can say anything else the door to the solar opens to Coast, Rising, and Dawn bouncing in, squealing in joy and all talking at the same time. It takes a moment to parse anything, but when Rising turns sideways the situation is revealed. On her flanks is a depiction of a mare’s head and neck, face turned upwards, a single musical note escaping her lips.

The pegasi all bound over to her and join in the commotion as Title and his dam make their way in and around the group. Ferric hops down to join in as well, but Heavy and Cure are happy to stay back and watch the enthusiasm at a distance, even if they do both scoot to the edge of the couch for a better view. Vines is quick to come over and give her son a loving nuzzle as the fillies all squeal in joy.

Celestia has sat up and is smiling broadly at the excited herd. “Congratulations, Rising, dear! I suspect many such events are happening all throughout both Cloudsdale and Canterlot at this very moment,” she notes. Cure turns up to look in question as she clarifies, “The ascension of an alicorn is a significant magical event; It would not surprise me to find that many, many young colts and fillies have gained their mark today. Perhaps across the entire nation, even. Did you get an opportunity to sing on the stage, Rising Pitch?”

“I did! How’d you know? Err, your highness?”

“Cure had mentioned he asked that you perform for your school. I suspected he was making arrangements for this to happen as well, were you not?”

Cure purses his lips before slowly nodding to the excited group. “Yeah… I thought maybe it would happen then. Assuming it was meant to be, at least. I’m not sure if playing the sax would’a done it, now, though, since singing is specifically depicted.”

“I suspect it could have worked,” Celestia suggests. “Her talent may not be singing alone. The musical note could indicate a much broader application.”

“True,” Cure nods in agreement. “You’ll have to let us know on Monday if you or your dam notice a big improvement with your sax or clarinet. Or maybe you can finally play for us,” he adds with a fake pout. The euphoria from the event has probably clouded her judgment, as she instantly nods, seemingly thrilled at the idea. Either that or she finally has the confidence; unsurprising given the world itself more or less said “You’re good to go in this department.”

Celestia nods in agreement and turns back to the excited filly. “I would absolutely love to hear you sometime as well, Rising. Perhaps next time you are able to come here you would consider gracing the court with a performance?”

Her eyes grow big as saucers as she turns into a stuttering mess. Excited at the prospect of playing for the princess, Rising can only nod while beaming a million watt smile at the ancient mare.

Cure leans up against the princess’s chest and whispers, “Maybe she can give ya singin lessons, boss.”

Scoffing, Celestia laments, “It would be a marvelous achievement if she had any success at all. Regardless, I believe two cutie marks in two days is cause for celebration, wouldn’t you agree?” she asks, smiling at the parents.

Title smiles wide at the suggestion. “No doubt, highness. I don’t suppose you have any ice cream, do you?”

“Always food,” Cure mumbles, shaking his head in disappointment.

“I think it’s a stupendous idea! I shall have somepony run and fetch some for after dinner again, and perhaps the kitchen may be able to whip up some cake to accompany it!”

“We could always go make it ourselves,” Cure suggests. “Dunno if your kitchen staff would mind, but it’s something we can all do together. Not mom, though. We won’t have any batter to bake if she ‘helps,’” he finishes with mocking air quotes.

Title just shrugs and nods in acceptance. There wouldn’t be any use in denying it; cake mix is some good shit and she’ll happily eat the whole bowl before it makes it into a pan. She’s just lucky salmonella doesn’t seem to be a concern in ponyland.

Celestia gives the colt an impressed look. “You know how to cook too?”

“Yeah? I mean… of all the crazy stuff I can do cooking surprises you? Baking is just following directions, mostly.”

“You’re right. I suppose Mrs. Sweet has shown you around the kitchen some?”

Vines smiles at the memory from a few months back. “He started helping in the kitchen back in September, right after he learned how to use a horn.” She nuzzles into his side, rolling him over and nosing at the sensitive area under his wing.

Anypony else would have a fight on their hooves for that, but she has clearly invoked Dam’s Privilege; he has to simply lay there and take it. “You should have seen him the first time! He was floating around the ingredients and humming like he was conducting a little orchestra while making us pancakes! It was just too cute!”

The girls all giggle at the helpless colt, watching as he huffs in annoyance at being rolled around and poked at. Celestia is delighted, again, to see how foalish he is when interacting with his dam. Heavy’s just relieved his parents aren’t around to do something like that to him.

“I think the kitchen staff will forgive me so long as we clean up after ourselves. We should be able to make a couple before they need to start on dinner as well. I will instruct the gate guards to inform the rest of your friends and family upon their return.”

“Awesome!” Cure wraps his forelegs around his dam’s muzzle and plants a big kiss on her cheek before rolling to his barrel. He looks at the books he’s piled up on the table and mumbles an “uhh” before the princess waves a dismissive hoof.

“The staff will reshelve those and put everything away.” She looks over the group of foals and tilts her head towards the door. “Shall we?”

Princess Celestia does not need an oven to cook, Cure reflects. He feels like that should be some part of a witty one-liner that starts off with something about how hot she is, but she legitimately can bake cakes, and other things, just by plopping them in a bubble of magic and turning on the heat. It wasn’t meant to be intimidating; the mare was simply showing off to the foals, but Cure had to fight back a cringe at the thought that the ability could easily be used for far more sinister applications than making treats.

Any unicorn that’s a decent caster could do the same thing, really; it would just wear most ponies out after a few minutes. From the ease with which she maintained the bubble, Cure can only assume that her regeneration is high enough that she does not have that problem. Of course, given her connection with the sun, it may be as easy for her to pull off as it is for him to heal a cut.

It makes him question his incessant need to learn new spells, though. From the looks of things, once somepony gets powerful enough they can virtually impose their will on the world and, barring another similarly powerful magician, everypony else is more or less at their mercy.

The remainder of the group didn’t show up until just about dinner time. Cure’s soul nearly wept in sympathy for the two exhausted stallions. They didn’t exactly shop the whole time, but even with the breaks for lunch, a short one at a hoof filing and polishing stand, and a snack break a couple hours later, the pair got dragged from store to store for the better part of five hours. Thankfully they found the supplies Cure needs to finish Lt. Spear’s suit.

Sapphire was moderately successful with her gem hunt; she initially accepted prices slightly higher than necessary, but learned pretty quickly to haggle them down more aggressively. Cure suspects the early mistakes can be chalked up to her not factoring in higher supply and more competitive prices, given there’s far more vendors here than in the no-stoplight town they all live in.

In fact, Cure is pretty sure Midnight Gem doesn’t have any competition at all in their little suburb, given there’s probably not enough residents to support two jewelry stores. Regardless, Cure now has a surprisingly stuffed normal bit pouch full of small and, likely, medium quality gemstones (which is fine for his purposes) to experiment with and determine whether dragons’ magic resistance is a physical property and Sapphire has about fifty bits to blow on whatever she wants to when she gets home.

With the entire family regrouped, dinner consumed, and dessert annihilated, everypony gathers in a lounge room just down the hall from the guest rooms; a location chosen at Cure’s suggestion for his last demonstration for the princess before they depart. Most of the adults are reading or staring out the windows at the busy cities in the distance, but the princess, with the foals all laying on and around her, are sitting on a nearby couch waiting for the show to begin.

“Alright, which of you two wants to be it?”

Ferric and Heavy each point a hoof at the other and say “She / He does” at the same time.

“I’ll go,” Wind instantly volunteers, thrilled at the opportunity to finally get her turn with the colt.

Drift shoves her sister with a shoulder, almost tripping the taller girl as she hops off the couch. “Hey! No fair!”

“It seems fair to me,” Glacial argues. “You’ve gotten massages several times after we go flying.” Drift grumbles but doesn’t counter the point at all.

“I still haven’t had one either,” Rising pouts. “I don’t mind waiting until we’re on the train though.” Sapphire chimes in, echoing the sentiment.

“Alright, I guess you’ll be my victim for the night, Wind,” he says with a shrug. The white filly doesn’t hesitate to trot over and hop on the couch that’s been designated as his massage table. She turns so her left side is to the princess and the foals, then flops on her belly with her legs and wings stretched, mindful enough to at least keep her tail down to cover her goods. In the meantime, he’s making the transition from hooves to hands, showing them to the princess once complete.

Ready to get started, he uses Enlarge to give himself more leverage and better reach. Wind very unsubtly gives him an evaluating look before straightening herself back out and looking forward again.

Cure has to admit, the view of an attractive pegasus spread eagle, even on her barrel, is a sight to see. Doing stuff like this during puberty would be a nightmare if he didn’t have his talent, as he is certain he would be popping wood the entire time, especially if they’re as vocal as Drift and her mom have been every time.

Dawn, at least, is pretty quiet when he’s giving her one; typically because she’s almost passed out for most of it. Glacial… she was every bit as bad as Drift was. The experience was probably worse, actually, because despite the fact that both girls are physically attractive there’s just something about that sparkle in her coat that makes him want to pounce on her. There’s also the fact that she has a much more gentle disposition than Drift. The darker filly has certainly toned down the unwarranted aggression over the last few months, but she’ll always be the more thorny between the two.

“So we talked about this earlier, and though the conversation definitely took a turn for the worse,” he says, directing a light scolding look at the sprawling pegasus, “hands are far better than hooves for precision work, even with our telekinesis. Have you ever had a massage from a minotaur?”

Celestia actually laughs at the suggestion, shaking her head no. “I do not think the opportunity has ever presented itself. Perhaps next time I meet with an ambassador I will request they include a masseuse with their entourage in the future.”

“Better not. I’ve joked a few times that they could take over the whole friggin country if they started offering massages. That’s a thought… maybe I should expand BodyWorks Enterprises into a series of massage parlors and hire minotaurs to work there.”

“Jeez dude,” Solar calls from the windows, “I swear you’re obsessed with money or something.”

“Money is freedom in a capitalistic society, my friend,” he easily responds. Focusing back on the task at hand, he begins his explanation. “So step one would normally be to check with my patient and make sure they’re onboard with everything. Most ponies would probably freak out if they had a set of hands on ‘em instead of hooves like they’re expecting, and of course some ponies will have things they just don’t want touched. Wind?”

“Nah, go ta town. I want the full experience.”

Drift sniggers at her sister, but doesn’t give her any warning. Cure rolls his eyes but clarifies his concern for the girl. “You remember what I told the boss lady earlier, right? The whole moaning, drooling mess bit? Are you good to go?”

“Do not be embarrassed, Wind Shear,” the princess instructs. “I have visited many a spa here in the capital. Alicorns share the same sensitive regions as all three tribes, so I am not ashamed to admit how pleasant a vigorous hoof, horn, or wing massage can be.”

“Go ahead, colt. I’m ready,” Wind insists.

“Really? Damn, I may need to turn off my talent and get a real massage then,” Cure comments as he’s getting started. “I didn’t really get much from the one at that place on the bay for Hearts and Hooves.”

“I thought it was nice,” Dawn disagrees. Smugly smiling, she turns to look at Glacial. “You enjoyed it too, didn’t you?”

The platinum filly turns a deep red as Drift bursts out laughing. At least Ferric has the decency to not be a butt, though she blushes slightly at the reminder. Cure just gives Dawn a disappointed look and carries on, though he notes the princess looking between the four with some confusion.

“Alright, so go ahead and fold your wings in for now, Wind. I’ll save those for last.” He moves into position by her right side so he’s not blocking the view and continues his explanation as she does so. “Step one is to use our grabby aura to warm my hands and just lightly knead the withers and lower neck. We have a lot of muscles in our neck area, so it takes more force than you’d think to really get it all to relax. Of course, you have to avoid the throat area with anything but the most gentle of touches. Nopony likes to feel like they’re being strangled, after all.”

The cushy couch is a bit of a pain to work around, he realizes. Fortunately he’s able to latch onto the frame by making himself slightly heavier, similar to how he’d done when he gave Drift the massage the first time months ago. This is probably why masseuse tables are typically harder padding, he figures.

He goes all out on the older girl, using his thumbs and his earth pony strength, along with his talent, to really loosen up the powerful neck muscles underneath and, mostly, to the sides of her mane as he works his way up her neck. She stays blissfully quiet throughout the experience, only breathing heavier than normal and letting a few grunts slip out.

After several minutes working up her neck he hops down and moves to the front of the couch so he can work on her ears and face. She lets out a happy hum at the sensation of him massaging her forehead and the base of the ears, and can’t seem to hold back a quiet “ooh” when he targets the muscles that rotate the ears.

“Ears seem to be the universal weak spot,” he explains cupping his fingertips around the base and gently massaging the area. “I believe these were labeled the auricular muscles in the anatomy book I got from the library. They’re responsible for rotating and perking the ears and, as you can see,” he nods towards her slowly wagging tail, “feel friggin amazing when massaged.”

Several of the foals are holding back giggles at the half-lidded look Wind is giving him. “Of course the ocular muscles,” he continues, running his thumbs around the brow and side of her head, “and nasal muscles feel pretty good when you’re gentle with them,” he explains as he moves on, cupping her chin with his fingers and using his thumbs to rub her muzzle and get her cheeks lightly for a moment. He notices she has a little drool at the corner of her lips, but uses his talent to cause her to slurp that back in before anypony can see it.

He moves around to hop back up and face towards her tail as he continues his explanation. “And with the neck forward complete, I typically start on the back and hips next. With a pegasus ya gotta kinda work under the wings, but that’s not a problem because the muscles that really feel great are the ones further back at the hips.”

Under the princess’s watchful gaze he kneads her sides under her wings, working his way slowly in circular, downwards motions towards her hips. Focusing first on the left so everypony can see, he works a little harder on the larger, stronger muscles in her hind legs.

“So you wanna start from the top and work your way down, is my understanding. I’ve not had formal training, but I’ve also not had anypony complain at all. The gluteus, sartorius, and forward parts of the fascia muscles are about as far as I go on a minor,” he indicates as he works on the upper and forward part of her hips, “though the biceps and further down the leg seem safe enough, especially with ten witnesses to her insisting I go to town.”

Celestia nods in approval, watching in interest as the colt extends Wind’s left leg back, cupping and massing down the back of her leg while being mindful not to stimulate any areas that would be inappropriate. The fact he’s including medical terminology helps distract from the intimacy of the area; something he was likely conscious of from the start based on his naming of the muscle groups of the face before moving to the filly’s rear area.

The girl is becoming more vocal now that he’s targeting larger muscle groups. The occasional sharp intake, slow exhale, quiet moan, or pleased grunt are barely audible, but do not escape the princess’s notice.

Cure finishes giving a thorough massage to the left leg, then repeats the process on the right, never letting his focus move from the muscles he is working on and ignoring the growing volume of happy noises coming from the barely-conscious pegasus. After finishing the girl’s legs he moves to sit beside her barrel, facing her front again.

“So when I gave Solar and his parents a massage I had them roll over to get their chest muscles. That’s not something I had done for Drift and Glacial when they came over. If you want me to do the same…” he trails off as Wind quickly flips herself over, though she does maintain her modesty with her hind legs held together and covers her lower regions with her tail.

“Pegasi pectoral muscles are primarily responsible for the downward motion of wings,” he explains as he begins rubbing from the center outward on her chest. “I think it works best to do a general massage of the area, then focus on one side, then the other with both hands. The vast majority of the strength is in the thumbs, after all, though with earth pony musculature and magic empowerment the grip from the other four fingers is significant as well.

“That’s something my talent lets me cheat at; without it, injuring somepony would be pretty easy, but with it I can tell exactly how much pressure to apply to unknot any drawn muscles and really loosen the whole area up.”

“This is quite a bit more clinical than I expected,” Celestia admits. “It is good to see you treat this so seriously, Cure. I admit that I assumed you would rely more on your talent, though.”

“Eh, we’re a very touchy species, boss. I don’t know how minotaurs or griffons are, and I’m pretty sure dragons are not, but using direct manipulation instead of smoothing it out only with magic gives a far more pleasant sensation. I mean, I could strictly use my talent, I suppose. Hay, I could directly stimulate tactile nerves… want me to demonstrate on your ears?” he asks, crossing his eyes and looking up at his horn to indicate he means with his talent.

“Just one, please.”

“Sure. Brace yourself, boss.”

He doesn’t appear to do anything for a few seconds, then the sensation that floods into Celestia’s system almost makes her recoil before she attempts to school her features. A gasp escapes her before she can, though, and when he stops only seconds later a full-body shudder passes through her.

It was unlike anything she has ever experienced in her life and she is left unsure how to accurately describe it. It was as if a warm compress enveloped her ear from tip to base, stimulating every pleasurable nerve from her cranium up. She had previously called him dangerous; that description completely failed to accurately encapsulate the threat this colt posed to anypony, or anything, he is allowed to use his talent on.

She doesn’t even realize that a full ten seconds has passed before she opens her mouth to respond. “That… was far more intense than I had anticipated.”

“Yup. That’s why I stick to the physical act of massage. I think I could cause somepony to almost have a heart attack if I did that all over. And that’s a pleasant feeling. I shudder to think what doing the same thing with pain receptors would do to somepony.”

“You must never do that, Cure. I am certain the results would be catastrophic.”

Cure nods in agreement as he prods the filly to roll back onto her barrel. “I know. I know a few ponies who are still wary of letting me use my talent on ‘em at all. That’s fine, though. It takes a heck of a lot of trust. Now…” he dramatically pauses, moving to stand overtop of the girl, “for the main event.”

He places his large hands on the filly’s side, just before her hips and slowly slides them up under her wings until he reaches the base where they connect just below the withers. Celestia can see his fingertips poke out from under the front of Wind’s slowly spreading wings as he uses his thumbs to massage the center of her back where the sensitive muscles are all connected.

The response is as immediate as it is vocal; Wind cannot help but moan out in euphoria as the colt slowly, firmly massages the wings, starting at the trapezius muscles and gradually working his way out, spreading and stimulating the wings as he moves. Wind’s hind legs are extended fully back, kicking lightly at the stimulation as her forelegs press into the couch’s surface, seeking to grasp onto anything to give her leverage to push up into his hands more.

In a shout that Celestia would certainly have mistaken for orgasmic, the filly’s entire body locks up and spasms before she collapses fully on the couch, all but unconscious from overstimulation. The colt doesn’t stop there, though, still working over the wings, both at once initially, then focusing his attention on one, then the other. With a proud nod he dismounts the girl, leavin her laying in a heap with legs, wings, and tail sprawled in all directions and a puddle of drool escaping the corners of her lips.

“And there ya have it. One Cure Wave massage.”

“Did I look like that?” Solar quietly asks his marefriend, getting an affirmative nod in response. “Damn.”

“That… was impressive, Cure,” Celestia can’t help but admit. “I must confess that I am relieved you warned me in advance. I don’t mind looking a little silly, but…” she trails off, cringing slightly at the thought of her guests all seeing her moaning like that.

“Yeah, it’s a pretty intimate affair,” he concedes as he releases the Enlarge spell. “Eh, think about it. I don’t have to do the whole shebang, but you heard her tell me to go wild, so,” he finishes in a shrug.

“True. And your timing is good as well. I am afraid I must depart soon. I have neglected nearly all of my duties today and must tend to a few issues before lowering the sun.” She pauses and, in a raised voice, calls for everypony’s attention. “Before you leave tomorrow morning, I would ask that all of you join me in the throne room. I would like to commemorate your visit with a photograph, copies of which I will have sent to you all once they are developed.”

The offer gets a round of excited agreements from the foals and adults. As far as Cure knows not a single one of them has ever had their photograph taken. Perhaps Solar has for his enlistment in the Guard, but otherwise he can’t think of any occasion when he has even seen a camera.

“Wonderful! I believe your train departs at eleven o’clock, so I will have castle staff come to escort you all around nine thirty, just a while after breakfast. Now, before I leave, I demand a hug from every single one of you,” she insists while climbing off the couch. She glances over to Wind and adds, “I suppose I can make one exception.”

One by one, each foal hops up on the couch and is wrapped in a hug by the princess, each one being pressed against her chest with a nuzzle as they separate. When the princess gives the adults a pouty look they all smile broadly and rush over to get in line too. Within a few minutes everypony has a Princess Celestia brand hug to mark the occasion, save one snoring, drooling puddle of a pegasus on a nearby couch.

Author's Note

Ok, I hope you all are aware that the whole 'super long chapter' thing is imminently coming to an end. 65 - and I hope everyone is sitting down for this, because I'm sure it will be a HUGE shock... 65 ended up being way longer than I intended.

I'll give you all a moment to recover from that TOTALLY SURPRISING news.

... That being said, the following chapters will be more along the lines of a typical 4-7k length, probably. I dunno, there's a scene in 67 I need to add in that I expect will cause it to grow a bit, but... we'll see.

JUST A REMINDER - 65 will come out next week and then I will be taking, more than likely, three weeks off. I have travel plans and I also did some traveling last week. I need to build my buffer back up, so expect 65 on 5/8 then 66 probably not until 6/5. I feel like I should delay it a day, though... (get it... 66 on 6/6? I'M BRILLIANT!). 66 through 68 are in what I would generously call draft format right now, so I'll poke at those and get them finished soon. I hope.

Okay, later folks! Thanks for reading.

Chapter 65: Departure

Sunday, May 3rd, 909 AB (The next morning)
Thirty minutes before sunrise

Sleeping peacefully, Cure becomes conscious of a warm snout gently prodding at his side. Rolling over, he grabs the offending muzzle and pulls it into a hug, giving it a quick kiss on the chin before nuzzling against it with his cheek. “Mmm love you dam.” The light giggle in response, larger size, and different scent cause both mind and body to freeze. “Boss?”

Whispering softly so as to not disturb the other foals, Celestia nods against his chest. “Good morning, Cure Wave. Or perhaps I should say, ‘Time to rise and shine, your majesty.’”

“Blurg…”

“A sentiment I shared the other day.”

He gives her one last nuzzle before releasing her. Opening his eyes, he finds the princess smiling radiantly down at him and his friends. Apparently he’d just rolled off of Rising, so she is lightly pawing around for a warm cover to replace him. He nudges her onto her right side whereupon she latches onto Coast, spooning the cyan filly and snuggling into her pink mane.

Cure casts a sound bubble over the bed and blearily climbs down, leaning against the princess’s foreleg, resting his cheek against the warmth of her lower thigh. “I’m pretty sure the title doesn’t apply just yet, princess,” he says while failing to fight back a yawn.

Displaying the maturity that can only be achieved after centuries of life, Celestia sticks her tongue out before declaring, “I am the boss! It applies when I say it does!”

“Ugh… too cheerful for this early. Did you at least bring me pancakes?”

The mare huffs out in annoyance at her forgetfulness. “I apologize, Cure. I suppose I should have at least returned the courtesy.”

“I’m just teasing you, princess. You did copy my line after all, but isn’t ‘your majesty’ only for mares?”

Sighing, she nods in affirmation. “Ruin all my fun. Yes; for a prince ‘Your Highness’ is the most appropriate address. Regardless, I came to ask that you join me for something that I would like to share with you. Something I have shared with precious few others over my long life.”

Cure nods against her leg, running his cheek up and down the outside of her lower left thigh. Given the time and the occasion, he can make a fairly good guess as to what she wants to show him. “Sounds neat, boss. Lead the way.”

Turning, she walks back out the door, making her way towards the balcony doors. He lets the Sound Bubble dispel as they pull the bedroom door shut behind them. She looks out the window explaining, “I could teleport us, but the view is magnificent just before dawn.” Glancing over her withers she inquires, “Assuming you are awake enough to fly, that is…?”

“Sure thing, lemme just leave a note. I don’t want the girls gettin worried if they wake up and I’m gone, ya know.”

“Certainly. Go ahead,” she says, motioning towards the small dining room table.

He writes out a quick “With boss lady, be back after sunrise - CW” and leaves it on the table before joining the princess on the balcony. At his “Ready” she hops off, spreading her enormous wings, and takes to the air. Cure is quick to follow; Despite the sun being down the palace and surrounding area is fairly well lit, presumably for security purposes.

Cure takes in the sights as the princess leads him on a slow, circuitous route around the palace. Groups of patrolling earth ponies, unicorns, and pegasi can be seen milling about on the castle walls and grounds as squadrons of bats do the same, both on the ground and in the air. There’s enough light that even pegasi should be pretty safe flying, so long as they stay within the castle walls at least.

The city of Canterlot truly is a wonder to behold. Cure had originally compared it to the city depicted in Shrek and, while it isn’t inaccurate, the beauty of the stone buildings as they’re bathed in the moonlight and soft glow of lanterns could only exist in a fantasy world. There are no slums or ghettos visible; only clean, well lit, beautifully sculpted buildings stretching across the flat plateau of the Canterhorn.

Cloudsdale is still hovering to the northwest, reflecting the ethereal glow of the setting moon on the horizon. With his improved eyes, squadrons of patrolling guards are visible in the distance, as are some early rising civilians making their way to the mountain city.

Celestia finishes the loop around the castle and makes her way to a tower with two south-facing adjoined balconies; one decorated in golden cladding and a sun motif, the other plain stone. She lands on her balcony and sits on her haunches, tilting her head to the side to indicate a spot for Cure to touch down. Setting down gently beside her, he looks up to the princess in curiosity, even though he’s all but certain why he is here.

“As I’m sure you’ve surmised, this is where I conduct the ritual to move the celestial bodies. At least, when I am feeling nostalgic, I do.”

“Right… I’m assuming the other balcony is for your sister… Or will be, when she returns.”

“It is,” she says in a soft sigh. “Just how much do you know?”

“Ehh, lots in some areas, very little in others. I’m missing a lot of details but I know the general gist of things,” he admits. “Two alicorn sisters maintained the cycle of night and day. Ponies, being a superstitious lot; As in, morons unfortunately, came to favor one over the other.

“I don’t know how bad it really was, or how long the anger simmered, but eventually the resentment became unbearable and Nightmare Moon was born. You fought. The Elements of Harmony banished her nine hundred and nine years ago, and she will return in another ninety-one. I’m pretty sure she doesn’t eat foals, though.”

Celestia takes it all in for a moment before responding. “You have seen the future?”

“Close, but not exactly. The best way to describe what I saw is a version of this world as if you would describe it to a foal. One where I did not exist. At least, I think. I was never visible or mentioned, at least, nor were there any signs of my existence.” He raises a wing and studies it for a moment. “I think an alicorn stallion would have stood out.”

She nods in understanding. “That would explain why you know many things you should not, and why you are are far more comfortable around me than most. I had initially assumed something along the lines of what Captain Shield suggested.”

“No. I’ve never lied to you. And I never would. Or, at least, I can’t imagine a set of circumstances that would prompt me to.” Finishing with a shrug he admits, “I suppose anything is possible. I really am only eight, but…”

“Right,” she nods in understanding. “Eight is only your physical age, whereas mentally you have experienced a great deal more. I think I understand.” She pauses in thought, eyes widening for a moment. “You knew ponies could ascend, didn’t you?”

“I did,” he confirms. “I thought it may happen eventually, but I definitely didn’t expect that. Nothing I’ve ever done was in pursuit of that specifically. I’m just trying to make ponies’ lives better, honest.”

“And that’s very likely why you were able to achieve it. I had worried after my slip, concerned I may have inadvertently prevented the possibility by revealing it.”

“Well, at least now ya know that simply knowing doesn’t prevent it. I suspect specifically chasing it may, though. Ponies that have a strong desire for power are not usually the ones you wanna give it to.”

“A very true statement,” she agrees. “In regards to what you know, I would advise caution. Many times acting to cause a specific event seems to create the circumstances that end up preventing it. Prophecy is a dangerous and unpredictable thing.”

“Oh no doubt. There are also a lot of differences, aside from my existence, that I’ve already found in my vision. Even if things were otherwise identical I could never possibly make things end up the same. Prediction paradox is the term I’ve heard; are you familiar with it?”

“Very much so. Despite that, I hope you would tell me if there is something urgent that I should prepare for. I may not act as you would expect, but…”

“At least you’ll have an idea, right. No, the next ninety years are almost a complete blank to me. There’s a couple events that are supposed to happen, but I don’t know exactly when. Is it safe to discuss the future? I don’t really know what forces, entities, or whatever are out there.”

Celestia pauses a moment in thought before beginning to channel magic into her horn. A sphere of darkness erupts from her, expanding to contain the two. Her horn glows in gold, illuminating the pair and the ground under their hooves. “If any being can pierce this to eavesdrop without me knowing then they are powerful enough they would likely not care enough of mortal affairs to interfere regardless.”

Nodding in acceptance, Cure begins, “I suppose the most immediate concern I have is the changelings. They have a queen who, when gorged on love, can… well, I don’t think she could actually defeat you, but she attacks in a crowded venue.”

She tilts her head up in thought. “And I am unable to bring my full might to bear,” she guesses.

“Right. I don’t know if she’s unaging, but she is probably about your age if their origin story is what I understand it to be, so long lived. Assuming she is the progenitor of their species. There was something about an evil, corrupted plant or seed or something involving Starswirl. I don’t have the details, but changelings are the result, which makes no sense because they’re more bug-like than plant-like as far as I know. Haven’t scanned one,” he confesses with a shrug.

“If they are preying upon my ponies I cannot ignore the threat. Is this an event that is to happen soon?”

“No. It doesn’t happen…” he pauses, giving her an evaluating look. “Brace yourself, okay?” She raises an eyebrow in question. “I’m about to tell you something and I know it’s a sore subject, so I want you to mentally prepare. Okay?”

She takes a deep breath and steels herself, nodding in confirmation that she is ready.

“The vast majority of what I saw starts with the return of Nightmare Moon in ninety-one years.”

Celestia lays on her barrel, only a half meter away, facing the colt. She nearly freezes in place, listening intently to every word.

“A unicorn you dispatch to a town called Ponyville is tasked with preparing the town for your arrival at the Sun Celebration. You don’t show up. She does. She taunts and mocks the townsponies before leaving. The unicorn gathers five other young mares and ventures out to find the key to stopping her.”

“The Elements…”

He nods. “They use them to cleanse her of the Nightmare. Your sister is freed, and you are reunited, ruling together as diarchs again.” Cure doesn’t even have a chance to blink before she snatches him off his hooves, hugging him tight to her chest between her forelegs, smashed under her head and neck as she lets out a wailing cry.

Normally he would be thrilled to get a snug hug from the mare, but with his right side pinned to her chest, her forelegs wrapped tightly around his body, and her heavy neck draped across his withers, the colt is a tad uncomfortable.

Unable to do anything but wiggle one pastern, he pats her right thigh consolingly. “There there,” he chokes out as she shakes in a sob, nearly crushing him while drenching his back and left side. “Didn’t think I’d get to test the whole dying thing so soon.”

The jest causes her to loosen her hold, barely, and within a couple minutes she has regained her control. With a quiet apology she releases him to summon a handkerchief again, wiping her face and filling the poor thing with a hearty blow. He tactfully hits himself with a Cleaning, polite enough not to make an issue of being her snuggle plushie snot rag for a moment there.

He continues, moving on from the emotional subject to explain, “So that’s kinda where everything I saw started from. The changelings attack a while later, after Luna has had time to regain her strength. I imagine that’ll take a year or two; at first she’ll be about as big as I am now, I think.”

The idea brightens the mare up considerably. Giggling mischievously she comments, “Oh, now that will be truly delightful! And I have so much time to plan!”

“Right, but the thing is the changelings may be out there right now. They’re literally starving to death. I suspect you saw some rough times. I don’t like to make assumptions, princess. Have you ever truly gone hungry? Tried to fall asleep with your stomach twisting and knotted, hoping to find food the next day?”

Celestia frowns deeply, considering everything she’s heard from the colt in their conversations. “I have. As far as I know, you have not. I hope this is not some portent of things to come.”

“No. And if it were, I would never allow it.”

The declaration is made with such absolute confidence that the princess has no doubt the colt would find a way to make it so. “I’m relieved to hear that. The changelings… do they always experience hunger?”

“I don’t know exactly. My understanding is that they do, but I don’t know how intense it is. It may be a minor annoyance or it may be a constant nagging presence.” He offers a shrug and admits, “It could be anywhere in-between.

“There’s a silver lining, though. They’re all under a curse that, when broken, could free them from their need to eat love. They could be, essentially, a fifth tribe, I suspect. Or sixth if you count crystal ponies as a separate tribe,” he adds with a shrug.

“And you know how to break this curse?”

“In theory.” He pauses to sigh. “Okay, so… it’s stupid,” he warns. “You have a creature that eats love. It’s their very sustenance. And they’re hungry all the time. What’s the one thing they’ll never, ever, ever do?”

She furrows her brow in thought for a moment before asking, “Fall in love?”

“Good answer, and I see how I led you to that, but the answer is to give love instead. In my vision, which again may be completely or partially incorrect, a single one of them seeks out friendship from ponies.

“He confronts their queen who, by then, has been starving for so long she’s literally insane, and gives her love. It transforms all of them but a few into… I dunno, something else. Still changelings, but they can eat normal food. They don’t need to eat love anymore. Just keep in mind, she may be nuts now. She will definitely be a megalomaniac nutbar later.”

“That would be fantastic, Cure! If it is only due to their parasitic nature that they cannot join society then this represents a huge opportunity for both ponies and changelings!”

“Right, but then I’ll be messing with an important part of the future. It’s just like… what if I’ve screwed everything up? What if the unicorn that leads those mares isn’t born? What if that unicorn’s parents end up with two sons instead of a colt and a filly?

“What if they decide to wait a decade to have foals since, ya know, I’ve cured aging by then? Or their parents, grandparents, etcetera. I think I may have bumped into her great, great grandma when I came to town to see my lawyers. She’s my age, roughly, assuming it’s her.”

“Well…” she pauses in thought, staring off into the void for a moment. She closes her eyes, takes a deep breath, slowly raises a hoof, and, just as slowly, lowers it back down, pressing into the ground while groaning in frustration. “Well…” she repeats , looking around as if searching for something to say.

She takes a deep breath as she stops looking around. Slowly exhaling through her teeth, she hisses as if letting off steam before finally blurting out, “SHIT!”

Cure’s eyes almost pop out of his sockets at the princess’s profane exclamation. “Woooowww… I made Princess Celestia cuss! Oh my stars, my friends would be so jealous! I swear if you lean over and crack one off right now I might just keel over right here on the spot!”

“Damnit, Cure! What am I supposed to do with this?!”

“Welcome to my life, boss,” he says with an irreverent shrug. “You’re damned if ya do and damned if ya don’t. What sucks is I only know the names of the mares and some of their parents. Even if I wanted to try to set it all up I wouldn’t know where to start.

“I mean, just cause that girl had a plum coat and was a unicorn doesn’t mean she’s even related. I think two are from Cloudsdale, one is from here, one is an Apple from Ponyville, the other is from a rock farm, and the other unicorn… no idea where her family is from. Manehattan maybe?”

“So two from each tribe?”

“Initially…” he says, ruffling his wings.

The move draws her eyes for a second before realization sets in. “The unicorn?”

He nods.

“I see. Ponyville is an unincorporated rural area. My farm is on a small subdivision of land near it. I own most of the area myself.”

“Have you gotten a request to incorporate it from a resident mare?”

“I have not. I’m guessing I will?”

“Maybe,” he shrugs. “She’s probably a filly right now, if she’s even alive.”

Celestia inhales and blows out a quick sigh, pausing to eye the colt for a moment before she asks, “You realize this is not how prophecy works, right?”

“I don’t see a crystal ball on your flanks,” he responds in a scowl.

“Or yours,” she argues. “Cure, be honest with me, please.”

“I… am? I always have been,” he answers, unsure what she means exactly.

“No, not that. I want to ask you something, and I ask that you answer me truthfully.”

“Oh… kay?”

“Are you some sort of… godling? A spirit of some sort?”

He’s frozen for a moment in shock, staring wide-eyed at the question. “What?!” he yelps in a shout.

“You… aren’t?” she asks in seemingly genuine surprise.

He sits, then closes his eyes and rubs at his temples with both hooves, taking a deep breath and blowing it out before looking back to her. “No. I’m a pony. Nothing more. I don’t have any powers or divinity or whatever may have led you to asking that,” he says, waving at her.

“Okay,” she accepts with a shrug. “It just seems like you know way, way more than any vision I’ve ever heard of would provide. Between that, your frankly absurdly versatile talent, and your ascension, one has to wonder.”

“I can’t even believe it. Princess Celestia, Deus Sol Invictus, asked, unironically, if I was some kind of god. You, who commands the very heavens?!” he asks, waving at the still obscured sky. Chuckling, he says, “Normally if somepony asks if you’re a god you’re supposed to tell them yes.”

“I cannot say I recommend that. There are tales and fables in which beings of great power take mortal form. Often, in the stories, they conveniently end up rich, powerful, and the object of everypony’s affection. Fate seems to bend to their will and the scales of chance somehow always tilt in their favor.”

He stares at the princess with wide eyes. “But… I… what?!” Taking a half step away, he shouts, “No! You’re messing with me, right?!”

She lightly shrugs in response, still staring with an evaluating look.

He jabs a hoof in her direction, shouting, “That’s an unfair accusation! I have no way of proving it false!” Throwing his forelegs wide he asks, “How could I, even?!”

“I suppose the only way would be if something were to actually happen that you did not somehow, mysteriously, inexplicably prepare for in advance.”

“That’s crap! I prepare for everything! Do you know how much stuff I prepare for that never even happens?”

“No, but you seem to be well prepared for everything I’ve witnessed thus far.”

Wings spread wide, he shouts, “Like exploding?!”

“Which only served to increase your power, both magical and otherwise.”

“And losing ten grand worth of supplies?”

“An overall inconsequential expense, all of which have all been replaced. Before even a dozen hours passed.”

“But I would’a just sat them aside if I’d known!”

“And then you probably wouldn’t have had the push to ascend. At least not yet.”

Cure lets out a frustrated growl that turns into a groan, throwing his head back before finally sighing. He meets the princess’s eyes and flatly responds, “I am not any kind of godling or whatever. At least, not beyond whatever an alicorn is, now. Nor have I ever been before. I got memories which include a possible future of this world just before I got my cutie mark. It wasn’t the same, though. In that vision hippogriffs had their own nation and turned into some kinda merpony to live under the sea and dragons were sometimes bipedal and an alicorn in the future has a foal with a unicorn!”

“Okay. I had to ask. Just out of curiosity, how many of us will there be?”

“Not counting me there would have been you, your sister, and two others until the one gets knocked up by the other’s brother.”

“Not a fifth?”

“I… don’t think so? At least, I don’t think she actually became an alicorn. She supposedly had the potential, but she was one of those ‘chasing power’ types. I think she eventually got all pissy about being denied it and hopped through Starswirl’s mirror.”

“The trap?!” she asks in alarm.

“The one that shows ponies what they wanna see?”

“Yes… it’s basically a prison. I am unsure what lies on the other side of it.”

“That’s the one,” he confirms. “It’s like another version of this world, but populated by a species of intelligent, bipedal creatures. Going through the mirror transforms you into one of them. There’s no magic there until an Element is stolen and carried over; Magic, specifically. I don’t know the details on that, but it causes problems, is my understanding.”

“I shall have to address that somehow,” she comments.

“Yeah, there’s a whole mess of things that we could address, but the problem is if we do it all then the eventual Bearers will still need trials if they are to grow. They’re not terribly involved in the changeling thing, but they do face a number of threats that pop up, starting with Nightmare Moon. A few of those actually concern me. There’s her, of course, Sombra’s return, Tirek’s escape, the changelings, and then a pegasus… I dunno, either a filly or an adult that’s unusually short. I think she gets a hold of some power-stealing bell. And, of course, there’s the big, chaotic, nuisance.”

“You don’t mean…”

“He isn’t completely frozen. Supposedly.”

“That… is unsettling. And it means that any changes made could have devastating results.”

“Presumably, if the need arises, champions will as well, but I don’t really wanna test that theory.”

“No. I noticed the concepts of the Elements were used in your ritual. I am unsure if the connection is strong enough, and I would very much prefer not to find out through those means.”

“No doubt. Is there such a thing as Order magic?”

“Of course. It’s what we all use. Formulae, runes, ritual diagrams, etcetera are how we affect the world. They are predictable and repeatable; the very definition of order. The alternatives have their advantages and disadvantages, but generally more of the latter than the former. Chaos yields unpredictable results and… well, there is another.”

“Dark magic? Yeah that seems like it would be useful to study just to know how to effectively counter it.”

“It is too dangerous.”

“If it’s that dangerous then we’re screwed if someone comes along that’s good at it. Sombra was a unicorn and gave the two of you trouble, right?”

“Not really,” she answers with a shrug. “We thoroughly overpowered him, but we were unaware he had put contingencies in place should he fail. The loss of the Crystal Empire is one of my greatest failures.”

“Oh. Sorry, boss. I will admit, I’m relieved he isn’t a bigger threat at least. Still, the whole stoning thing is a concern. I know that’s a card he likes to play.”

“That is useful intel. There are ways to shield against such an attack if one knows in advance.”

“I would assume there’s ways to shield against most things if you know in advance. Knowing is half the battle, after all.”

“Wise words,” she readily agrees.

“Oh right, mind control too. He’s all about that. Him and that changeling queen. Total pricks.”

“From what I have seen, by the time he returns he will be but an insect to you. The others concern me more, though.”

“Gotchya. Well, we got about ninety one, maybe two years to sort that out, hopefully.”

“Indeed. In the meantime, I believe I shall be reinforcing some wards, just in case.”

“Good call, boss. If I knew how to help I would be right there with you. Hay, if I wasn’t worried you woulda thought me some kind of… I dunno, agent? I woulda sent a note months ago. I didn’t wanna do exactly what we talked about; cause somethin by tryin to cause the opposite.”

“As in, me doing something resulting in his early release while trying to ensure longer captivity?” He nods in answer. “A valid concern. And again, the question is what to do.” She takes a deep breath and lets out an equally deep sigh, pondering on the situation for a moment. Finally, she looks to the colt and says, “You have given me much to consider, Cure.”

Scoffing, he chuckles lightly while shaking his head. “I can’t believe you thought I was some kinda spirit or something.”

“Unconquerable Sun God?” she asks with a raised brow, smirking at the title.

Shrugging, he lightly nods. “If the shoe fits, boss.”

In a teasing tone with a slight smile she says, “I didn’t know you thought so highly of me, Cure. I’m flattered.”

Cure turns to face her fully, and with the utmost honesty tells her, “I think the world of you, Celestia. You’re amazing. Nopony else could have created all this, or kept it going for so long.”

Momentarily taken back by the genuine praise, she blinks in surprise before smiling softly. “Aww… you always know just what to say to a mare, don’t you?”

He rolls his eyes at the ancient being before letting out an exasperated sigh. “I ain’t playin yer mind games, lady. It has to be about time. Are we doin this thing or not?”

She has the temerity to pout at his refusal to play along. At his continued stare she says, “We will talk more of this in the future, if you are willing. I do not know if the astral is a safe place to have such discussions, though.” He nods in response as she dispels the privacy bubble and looks over the night sky, casting a longing gaze towards her sister’s moon. “Come.” She moves to sit in the middle of the ritual circle and motions for him to sit between her forelegs.

Cure quickly expels his bit pouches full of crystals she had given him yesterday and, smirking at her eye-roll, trots over to take his place and lean up against her belly. “Anything I need to do, boss?”

“Nothing specific. I am going to hold you if that is okay.”

“I’m a pony,” he reiterates, as if it could possibly not be okay to get hugged.

She gives him a small smile and scoops him up under his forelegs and holds his back to her chest, the other foreleg wrapped under his tail and rear. “You recall I mentioned a second pool of magic?”

“Yep. Gonna feel it?”

“Yes. It will not harm you, but you will feel it flowing through me. Relax, and allow it to pass over and through you as well. Be calm, and know that someday soon a similar power will be yours.” He nods against her chest as she spreads her wings wide and tilts her head back, pointing her horn straight up at the sky overhead.

Cure closes his eyes, opening his magical senses to the world. He feels the flow of magic coursing through the princess increase as her horn, and her whole body, ignites in a golden glow. The sensation is… euphoric; divine. Far more potent and powerful than the meager stream of magic he possesses. For just a moment, Cure feels like he has touched something greater; his senses expand through the heavens, giving him a view of the world like the princess had described the previous day.

A gentle pushing draws his attention to the west as he casts his mind’s eye towards the setting moon. He feels a coolness there; a lingering bitterness mingled with hate and regret. As the moon lowers below the horizon the sadness and anger fade away. His senses turn east as the first beams of sunlight stream through the sky, climb down the mountain’s summit, and paint the world in joyous orange and yellow.

The flow of power decreases, finally coming to a halt. He takes a breath, holds it for a second, and slowly exhales through his nose. “Wow.”

Celestia raises him up in her forelegs and nuzzles against his right cheek. “When you begin to feel that sensation in yourself you must let me know. That is the power of an alicorn, and without proper control it could be immensely dangerous. You no doubt felt the raw potential in it.”

Cure leans into the nuzzle and returns the affection. “You bet boss. Are we still on for Sundays after sunset? I’m not a hundred percent sure I’ll be home in time tonight.”

“When you get a moment to step into the astral I will join you. I would appreciate knowing your return journey went unimpeded.”

“Alright. Sounds good.” He gives her one last nuzzle. “Thanks for sharing this with me, princess. It was… amazing.”

Shaking her head, she gives him another gentle squeeze. “Thank you, Cure. Sharing this is nothing to the hope you have shared with me.”

The mood at breakfast is slightly somber. Knowing that their stay at the palace is coming to an end, the foals are a little down, but the thought of getting back to their families keeps their spirits up. A few days of being away isn’t much, but it is still more than most of them have gone without their parents nearby.

With the princess spending almost all of Saturday with Cure she wouldn’t have much time for them this morning. Conversation is light as everypony eats their breakfast until a guard enters the room pushing a cart covered in newspapers before excusing herself. Dawn and Cure are quick to float over a set for the foals while Solar and Starlight each grab copies for the adults to look over.

“I guess nopony had a camera ready,” Cure notes. The front page has a few poor quality, hastily taken photographs, but the main image taking up the majority of the page is a drawing of the tree and serpent in the sky, though it looks sensationalized compared to his mark. The accompanying story gives little detail, thankfully, and is mostly speculation about what the princess was doing that caused the event.

“Did it really look like that?”

“Pretty much, dude,” Heavy confirms.

“Yeah, it let out a hiss that shook the windows,” Glacial adds.

Drift nods, agreeing with the filly. “Yep. It wasn’t as bad as the princess’s squeal, but I think everypony in Cloudsdale and Canterlot heard it.”

“Way ta go, champ. That’s three cities you’ve made a ruckus in.”

“Always tryin ta make ya proud, pa. Three down and a few dozen to go.”

“You didn’t… like, have control of it or anything?” Solar asks.

“Nope. Not consciously at least. If I had any control over that then I wasn’t aware of it.”

“Look at these interviews!” Rising calls in a giggle. “You’re apparently some kind of new, powerful weapon that the Guard was testing, Cure.”

He buffs a hoof on his chest and inspects it. “Well, I don’t like to brag…”

“And that’s a good thing, squirt,” Wind interrupts.

“Kicked yer rear,” he argues, sticking his tongue out at the girl.

“Got lucky,” she mutters, holding the paper up to block his smug face.

“Looks like somepony blabbed,” Coast notes, reading aloud. “The rumor among the nobility is that we may have a new prince or princess now. The Royal Press Corps have declined comment at this time, explaining that an official announcement will be made Monday. Castle Guards have been tight-lipped, declining comment per direct orders from Her Majesty.”

“Eh, there’s nothing too surprising there. Prince Blueblood ended up coming to the castle while the princess and I were at the range testing my magic. He saw me in my disguise. The princess didn’t tell him to keep quiet; at least, not to my knowledge.”

She looks up from the paper and asks, “He’s not an alicorn, is he?”

“Unicorn. Tall as frick for one though. Like, average earth pony height. He had his whole family with ‘em including his two daughters. I’m marrying the older one next summer. She was hot; I can’t wait.”

Complete silence fills the room and only his parents and sisters, who are holding back giggles, are not staring in shock as he continues eating like nothing is happening.

Starlight is the one to finally break the silence. “Do… you need help planning the reception?”

“Nah, the princess has somepony lined up. I’ll make sure you’re all invited.” He turns to Heavy and asks, “Do you wanna be my Best Stallion or would you prefer I ask Solar? I have very high expectations for my bachelor’s party, just to warn you.”

“He’s full of it,” Solar casually accuses, going back to eating without a second thought.

Heavy punches him in the shoulder, scowling at the snickering colt. “Dude, not cool!”

“Really?” he asks the table, looking around at everypony. “Y’all thought I’d agree to marry some filly I’ve met once? And that I’d just mention it offhoof like it’s nothing?”

“Jerk,” Dawn growls, huffing and going back to her food.

“Well if it makes you feel better I did something that absolutely horrified everypony just to make sure they won’t bug me.” Proudly beaming at the group he adds, “Even the boss lady was disturbed. She threatened to throw a Fireball at me!”

“That would be such an honor!” Sapphire says, voice full of awe. “How many ponies can say they’ve been threatened with violence by her highness herself?!”

“What exactly did you do?” Dawn asks.

“Spit a flesh sack full of wasps at a target, then did another one with a chemical explosive inside.”

A beat of silence passes.

“Do what now?” she asks as her brain reboots.

“We were talking about my crystals. She asked why I had so many. I gave her my escape, evade, eviscerate plan in summary, then mentioned ‘hordes of venomous insects.’ A demonstration was provided. Wanna see?”

A round of “NO!”s is shouted by almost everypony. Dawn at least seems curious but he’s pretty sure Sapphire is only nodding to annoy everypony else.

“Buncha chickens,” he mumbles. “Well either way, they got a demonstration so I don’t think I’ll hafta worry about being betrothed to anypony or whatever. He wasn’t super keen with the fact I was an earth pony anyhow. They all fled the area like I’d lit their tails on fire. Besides, even if they pressed the issue, stallions can always just say no.”

Dawn looks relieved, nodding her head in approval. “Good.”

Sapphire draws his attention while holding the paper in one hoof and pointing at the article. “This one says you’re an extraequustrial being, come to take over the world! I didn’t know you’re an alien!”

Cure freezes for a split second while the statement processes, then looks at the paper to find what she’s talking about. “Huh, I’ll be damned. Somepony figured it out! I’m not really a pony at all, just some kinda creature from another planet! Gotta admit, though, the whole taking over thing? No thanks.”

“There’s one nutjob in any group,” Wind laments. He can’t help but notice she casts an exasperated look towards the aqua filly at the same time.

“You never said what happened,” Dawn reminds him. “What was it really like? And don’t just say ‘Exploding sucked’ or whatever.”

“I didn’t actually feel that part,” he explains. “The little ritual thing happened and I started feelin warm. The pies all hitting me helped a little, but then it got really hot really fast. At first I was wonderin if there was something in ‘em, but I saw ma lappin hers up like a friggin dog.”

“Shattap, brat. I ain’t wastin good whipped cream!”

Rolling his eyes, he continues, “So then, BAM! Everything goes white, then the sky fades to night with stars and whatnot with a kind of fog floating about. Next thing I know I’m watching… I dunno, like… moving pictures of all the stuff I’ve done. I saw some of the ponies whose horns and wings I healed. All the bats who I’d given membranes; I got flashes of ‘em going out in the day with their fellow ponies.

“I saw them testing my virus trees in a lab, me laying on my back and singin with Lotus while we worked on her speech. Me, pa, ‘n Solar dealin with the morons on the train. Us all in our garden,” he says, looking towards his parents.

“There was also lots of ‘em with you all. The Running of the Leaves, the sleepover, us all at the spa, you teaching me to fly, goin to the range with Solar and Dawn, all the Hearth’s Warming deliveries.

“I even saw RP practicing with her sax in her room,” he adds, nodding towards the blushing filly, “Ferric hunched over her bench, working on my staff, and you enchanting crystals to help the hospital and Guard. I saw Solar ‘n Star dancing at the Lady Baltimare on New Year’s, Heavy takin his sisters for sundaes, and all of us playin in the snow.

“I looked around for a few minutes and was like, ‘eh this is neat and all, but everypony’s probably freakin out,’ so I just… pictured myself comin back. I felt kind of a tug and, for lack of a better word, stepped in that direction, sort of. It wasn’t completely unlike the sensation of teleporting. Next thing I know I’m standin there in front of the princess and all my damn crystals are gone.”

Heavy rubs at his forehead muttering, “Again with the crystals, jeez…”

“Dude! That was ten grand! The boss lady hooked me back up, which was nice of ‘er, but still… that sucks!”

Rising asks, “Do you feel different at all? I mean… you’re a real alicorn now.”

“I’ve felt more or less the same since I got my talent. I imagine if I had any injuries or whatnot I’d probably be all fixed up, but I haven’t felt pain since last August,” he looks at Heavy, “when I took that tumble, remember?” The colt nods at the reminder, so Cure continues, “The princess said it’ll be a while before anything ‘alicorn-y’ will start happening. Probably not until I’m almost an adult.”

“Alicorny?” Drift echoes with snort. A few of the girls giggle at the silly phrase, but Cure just shrugs in response.

“Seems approps. I dunno how it works, but I felt some of it when she raised the sun. It’s like… another well of magic. Just thicker. Heavier. I don’t know how to describe it. If normal magic is water then this was like honey or maybe oil?” He idly scratches at his chin in thought. “I just don’t know how to put it into words. She says it’ll probably be at least five years before my mane and tail start doin whatever the hay hers does.”

“What about when you have foals?” Heavy asks. “Are they going to be alicorns too?”

“No. They’ll be just normal foals like anypony else has. They’ll probably be the same tribe as their dam like normal. There may be some metaphysical effects I can’t imagine, but biologically they won’t be unusual, I don’t think.”

“Really?” he asks, surprise coloring his face. “I figured bein an alicorn and all… wait, what if you and the prin-”

Cure latches his hooves over Heavy’s muzzle, cutting the colt off mid-sentence. It’s far too late, though, as every other foal is staring at him wide-eyed. Dawn is doubled over, choking on a piece of toast she was taking a bite of. “Dude! Seriously?!”

He releases his friend and looks at the now silent table as almost everypony is staring at him. All of his parents except for his dam are obviously laughing, barely pretending to be trying to hold it back. Vines is smiling broadly, wiggling in her seat at the suggestion of her son and the princess having a foal together.

“I am absolutely not going to sit here and talk about having foals with the princess!” he hisses, looking around the room to ensure no guards or serving staff are listening in.

“I was just askin,” Heavy dejectedly mumbles, poking at his plate.

“Yeah, dude, I know, but don’t you think maybe that’s a little…” he trails off, rolling his hoof leadingly.

“He’s way, way too young to even bring that up,” Coast quietly tells the gray colt. “It would probably make her really uncomfortable hearing that anypony’s discussing it. Besides, she’s the princess. That’s… so weird to even think about.”

“Has she ever been married before?” Glacial asks.

“Probably,” he answers. “I’m not going to ask her private questions like that. If she brings it up that’s fine, but I’m not gonna make her talk about ponies she’s loved that she’s had to watch get old and die. I doubt that’ll ever not hurt.”

“Oh… I hadn’t thought about that,” she softly admits. “That sounds very lonely.”

“It… does,” he admits with a cringe. “Nopony thinks about the downsides of being unaging. They exist.”

“What about prince stuff,” Ferric asks, blatantly attempting to change the subject. “Will we be able to come for that? When you get crowned?”

“Of course. If you want to. I mean, it’s not like it’s going to be fun or whatever. I’ll be in disguise, which is something she’s going to straight up tell everypony. She’s not even gonna use my real name, of course. I dunno if I’m gonna roll with her suggestion, but it sounds pretty neat.”

“Serpentus?” Wind asks, snorting out a laugh. “Seems a tad… I dunno, like a big hardflank, not,” she waves in his direction, getting a scowl in return, “you.”

“Says the filly that’ll grow another hoof at most,” he grumbles back. “Chances are I’ll eventually be about as tall as the boss lady, if not taller.”

“How’s that work?” Glacial asks. “Will you just… keep growing?”

“I guess? I dunno. I plan on just letting whatever happens happen in that department regardless. Unless I end up taller than even her and am still growing. That would friggin suck. Apparently that’s what happened ta her; she just kept growing. I dunno, I didn’t get into specifics with her.

“I don’t know if I’ll be able to safely use my talent to shrink myself… I’ll hafta do it with magic instead, which is what she does when she’s going in somewhere that’s too small. She did that when she visited us in January.”

“That sounds like a pain,” Glacial comments. “Are you going to have to do that like… all the time?”

“I dunno. We’re talking like five years from now at a minimum. I hope. It’s not a complicated spell; by the time it’s an issue I’ll probably be able to just cast it on myself for a whole day at a time.”

Dawn’s eyes widen in shock at the statement. “That would take a lot of magic! I can only do it about half an hour at a time.”

“Solar could probably do it for most of the day right now. I’m sure I can do something as far as an enchantment, eventually. Also, the princess said my magic capacity will grow a lot, remember? I’m going to have to go to the range or, maybe, the ocean just to burn enough off to ‘exercise’ that.”

“You’re still going to keep doing that?” Drift asks. “Why? It doesn’t sound like you’ll need to.”

“If you were the fastest pegasus on the planet but felt like you could go even faster would you shrug and say, ‘Good enough’ and quit or would you keep pushing yourself?”

Drift frowns in thought for a moment before slowly nodding. Wind and Glacial do as well, the former far quicker to agree than the latter.

“Honestly I’m not sure if I’ll still hide at that point. I do what I do to keep hidden now so I can live a normal life. The first few years after I come out of hiding might be a little crazy, but once ponies realize I’m just like anypony else I figure that’ll get better.”

“You’re doing a bang up job at the whole normal life thing, Cure,” Solar comments, waving a hoof at the room. “Victory is yours, bro.”

“Yeah but come Tuesday I’ll go to school, see my clients afterwards, go home, and do whatever I want. Nopony but you all and the town guard will know anything is different at all.”

Solar can’t help but concede the point, though a thought does occur to him. “Are you going to tell my dam?”

“Oh… oh that’s perfect. Should I wait until after I get a crown and just like… walk in your place wearing it like nothing’s changed?”

“Daddy will have to know,” Dawn reminds him. “I don’t think you should mess with my dam anymore. Remember what I said last time? She doesn’t think that stuff is funny.”

“True,” he concedes. “I’ll probably just tell her with whoever else needs to know. I don’t need to get her all ticked off at me.”

“What about our parents?” Drift asks. “They’ll know too, won’t they?”

“Huh… I guess. Honestly, I’m not going to ask you all to hide this from your parents. It may be best not to tell your younger siblings. You know how easy it is for them to let stuff slip. Especially your sister,” he says, nudging Heavy who immediately nods in agreement. “Just ask them to not spread it around.

“They wouldn’t want you all getting accosted by ponies; I don’t want that either. Just point out that being the friend of an alicorn prince would mean ponies may be approaching you to get you to ask for me to do stuff. I’m hiding to keep you all from having to deal with this as much as I’m hiding for my own good, after all.

“I’ll probably have to keep ‘Prince Serpentus’ almost like a separate identity… you know, like how I do when I’m working?”

“The ‘no joking’ thing?” Dawn asks.

“Basically, yes. If I’m out and about as a prince and I run into one of you or something I’ll probably treat you like a stranger. Don’t let that freak you out; it’s the only way any of us will be able to have a normal life for the next few years.”

“Cure?” Vines calls from down the table. “And everypony else, of course. We need to hurry and finish our breakfast so we can get cleaned up and ready for the photograph. I don’t want any silly faces or misbehaving; the princess is going to be very busy today and we have a train to catch.”

An hour later finds the whole group dolled up to their absolute best. The group had rushed to shower and dry off as quickly as possible so that Cure could spend a few minutes on each one prior to being escorted to the throne room. It very much looked like a procession of super models, aside from the one pregnant mare that, despite the bump, is still physically more powerful than anypony not in their group, save maybe the princess herself.

Cure isn’t sure if Vines may be able to physically overpower even the boss lady if she weren’t seven and a half months pregnant. If Celestia never tried cycling magic actively through her muscles to increase her strength then the only advantage she would have is a couple hundred kilograms more mass and the increased leverage that size grants.

Vines, meanwhile, has muscle fibers that nature could only dream of, a skeletal system that might as well be made of steel, and the ability to nearly triple her output with magic use as needed. Maybe Cure will come up with a convoluted plan to get the pair into a wrestling match someday, but he can’t imagine his dam, even in play, doing anything that could be perceived as aggressive involving the princess.

Chalking up the random thoughts to being sleepy from waking a little early, Cure focuses back on the task at hoof; getting one infant, twelve foals, seven adults, and one eternal in position for the photograph without arguing over who stands where while finding some way to keep anypony from blinking.

Fortunately, there’s a professional on hoof who is also a member of the castle’s Public Relations department. The mare’s name is a tad long for a pony, but apparently that’s why Surprise Development goes by SD instead. The group is introduced to her and her lights pony shortly after they’re escorted in.

The first picture is basically what Cure expected. The princess calls everypony up into the raised platform before her throne. A couple raised platforms are brought in for the photographer and the light pony so the pair aren’t a full body length below the photograph subjects.

She stands behind the group with Vines in front of her and slightly to her right. Amethyst and Lemon take up positions on Vines’ right. Deed and Title are to her left with Solar and Starlight standing to their left to finish out the row.

Wind takes the side opposite the unicorns in front of Amethyst with her sister and Glacial filling in on her left. Ferric stands beside the shorter platinum filly with her sister, then Cure, Dawn, Rising, Coast, and Heavy down the line.

Cherry and Lotus hug Savvy between them right in front of Cure, who spreads his wings wide and adds a little volume on to surround the four fillies and three sisters arranged around him.

He was a little leery of doing the picture in his natural colors, but with everypony else in it anyway it’s not like identifying him would be difficult. Color photography is very, very new and produces pictures that are nowhere near as vivid as what he’s used to.

A call out of “cheese!” And a bright flash leaves everypony blinking for a moment after which Celestia speaks up. “This may be somewhat unorthodox, but I would like to have a picture with just Cure and myself, please.”

“That would be wonderful, princess!” Vines immediately agrees.

“Cure? I worked on something for this occasion, if you would be willing to humor an old mare.”

He rolls his eyes at her blatant manipulation and follows the princess to the side of her throne. She levitates a rich, dark wooden box out from some hidden cubby and sits on her haunches to take it in her hooves. With a seriousness that he hasn’t seen much on this visit, she turns, laying on her barrel to face him with the box between her forelegs.

“First, let me say that this is not official. You are not a prince until after the ceremony. The crown is not the same one you will receive next month, but I had a basic one expedited in the hopes you would wear this for a photograph with me today.”

She opens the lid, revealing a crown sitting in the middle of an ornamental peytral. Four shoes are arranged, two on each side. Everything appears to be solid gold, with a lustrous shine that nearly glows in the light of the room.

The shoes and peytral are a duplicate of her own, though the gem in the middle is a deep emerald that will match his blue coat or, in disguise, the brown he normally dons. The crown is quite a bit different, thankfully. Instead of the big, spiky, jewel-covered design she wears, it is a simple, more masculine band even more plain than the one Prince Blueblood was wearing.

“How in the hay did you have these made just overnight?!”

“Only the crown was and the design is simple, as you can see. Your actual crown will have a matching jewel and a more elaborate design that I would like to surprise you with. I thought you may like something a little less ostentatious than my own.” She gives him a broad, hopeful smile, waiting for his response.

“They look really nice, princess. Sure, I’d be happy to get a picture with ya.” He pauses a moment before hesitantly asking, “Am I supposed to take those with me?”

“Eager, are we?” she teases with a light giggle.

He rolls his eyes explaining, “I was thinking it would be fun to show up at some of the girls’ homes and, when the parents open the door, be like, ‘Can Dawn come out and play?’”

“HAH!” she barks out a laugh before covering her face with a hoof, stifling any more, though still shaking in mirth at the image. “I would normally say no, but I suppose as long as you are not doing anything official.”

“So don’t go out healing with it until afterwards? I was thinkin about moving my internship and, ya know… healing under my ‘Prince’ name.”

“You can make arrangements, but please hold off on going out in public with it until later. You are, again, a prince by right, but you are not a crowned one, officially, until after your coronation. Aside from that, I think it is a stupendous idea, Cure. You do not have to wait if you would like to go before you’re crowned, just no wearing everything publicly until after.”

“Good deal. I’ll talk to the ponies at the Baltimare RHA. As for the gear, I’ll probably only bust ‘em out a couple times, and only in private settings.”

“Very well. I’m just thrilled you’re willing to take them at all. These are enchanted in a way similar to how your bags are. Enchantment isn’t exactly correct as there is no crystal that must be charged.”

“I gotta learn that, boss. I’ve wondered how they work since I got them.”

“I’m sending you with instructions for the envelope spell. In reality, it is more appropriate to call what’s being done a form of ritual. The envelope is temporary and small enough that no circle is needed for me to perform the spell, and you will need to sacrifice a cantrip tier crystal until you can access your alicorn abilities. I enchanted these myself, though.”

“Really? That’s awesome! What’s it do?”

“These are simple, for the most part. Aside from the jewels they will grow with you, and will not be easily removed without your permission. We will replace the emerald with larger gems as you grow.”

“Ah, that’s how your crown and shoes stay on when flying…”

“Exactly. The jewel in the peytral has a powerful locator spell imbued in it. Know that wherever it goes, I will be able to find it.”

“Can I put it inside a spatial bag?”

“Yes. That will not stop the tracking ability.”

“Can anypony else track it?”

“Not easily. I wouldn’t say it is impossible, but somepony would have to analyze the item to determine the imprint before being able to follow it, and they would not have nearly the detection range I do. There are a few dozen mages alive that I believe could potentially do so, nearly all of whom are in my employ in one form or another.”

“Cool. I may keep it on me even if I’m not wearing it. I can’t think of a reason I wouldn’t want you to be able to find me if needed.”

“I appreciate that you trust me so much, Cure. I know that trust is not an easy thing for you normally.”

“I dunno if I would say that, exactly. Trust, to me, is like a big water tank. Once it’s full it takes a lot to empty it, but punch a couple holes in it and it’ll happen a whole lot faster. It ain’t easy to refill once the water’s gone, and those holes ‘ll never completely go away.”

Beaming at the affirmation, she removes the peytral, placing it over his head and on his chest, then places the crown on his head. She pulls him into a brief hug as she assures him, “I shall endeavor to never disappoint you.”

As they separate he sticks his snout way up in the air and adopts a pompous tone. “See that you do not, madame!”

“Do you need assistance with the sh… never mind,” she cuts off as he easily slides the shoes on with his TK field. Just like the crown and peytral “clicked” on his brow and chest, the shoes snap into place on his hoof wall, not actually covering the bottom of his hoof at all. There more leggings than shoes, really. Or perhaps shinguards would be more accurate.

“Well paint me pink and call me piggy, I feel plum regal and whutnawt already, prin-cess,” Cure says in a thick, southern drawl.

“I’m having second thoughts suddenly,” she remarks, not bothering to hide her disapproval. “Come along, Cure, and speak normally, please.”

“You bet, boss.”

“... maybe need some etiquette classes,” she grumbles, climbing on her throne. She lays on her barrel, slightly curving her body so her cutie mark on her left flank is visible from the front, holding her wings fully upright, high in the air. She crosses her forelegs, left over right, and puffs her chest out, neck straight and head held high.

She tilts her head invitingly to her left, so Cure hops up and mimics her pose. He lays so his shoulder is slightly behind hers, so his forelegs only reach a little down her thighs. His wings only just come up above her barrel and her cutie mark is above and behind his rear.

The photographer and her lights pony set everything up, positioning themselves so that the throne, wings, horn, cutie marks, and Celestia’s tail all fit in the frame, then take a moment to move a hoof or have them angle their wings slightly until both are perfect.

“Smile or serious?” Cure asks.

“Thoughts, SD?” she asks.

“Smiles, yes? Ees ‘appy oh-cazun, yes?”

“Indeed it is. A demure, but happy smile, please, Cure. We’ll do two; one for a keepsake and a second in your Serpentus appearance for public release. No crown for the latter, unfortunately. We will do those pictures next time.”

“No problem, princess.”

With the friends, family, guards, and everypony else watching, Princess Celestia and soon-to-be Prince Cure Wave smile for the camera, and the first ever photograph of two alicorns is snapped in a blinding flash of light.

The train ride home is, blissfully, uneventful. Cure made good on his promise, first giving each of his friends a vigorous hand massage. Solar and Starlight weren’t about to decline his offer, so he sent them both to the sandpony next. His parents opted to wait until the next day, though by the time dinner arrived everypony had gotten a good nap in. Given that they wouldn’t be getting to Golden Hills until almost ten it was almost a necessity, at least for the foals.

Uncle Lucky and Arcane had asked about the huge serpent as soon as they’d met up at the station. Deed had told them the princess had not yet released a public statement and, though they would be let in on the secret soon, the family couldn’t share anything just yet. They had enough experience with Grandpa Brick to understand confidentiality, so both accepted the explanation easily enough.

Celestia was apparently not in the mood to put up with any shenanigans in regards to the herd’s security; she dispatched Lt. Spear, a troop transport railcar, and an entire platoon to provide escort and, while the LT is in Baltimare, brief Cpt. Stance of the situation before returning on Tuesday. The local guard units had all been made aware of the attack, but Celestia did not inform them about Cure’s ascension when she sent the orders to begin pulling financial records and investigating his coworkers.

Cure had finished the lieutenant’s flight suit and upgraded Wind’s at the same time, so the trip home ended up being a boring, but productive one.

An entire platoon of Royal Guards, minus one squad sent to secure lodging, stepping off the train in Golden Hills gathers a lot of attention. They don’t conspicuously stick by the colt specifically, but there is not really a great way for thirty fully kitted Guards to blend in, and there are few other commuters so late on a Sunday. He has his wings formed, but has hidden them under a layer of fur that makes spotting them nearly impossible without good light and an actual inspection.

Just as Cure and his family are stepping off the train he spots Sergeants Bulwark, Song, and Haze making their way to Lt. Spear to greet her. The train back to Baltimare wouldn’t normally depart until the next morning, but with a royal order in hoof there’s very little that can’t get done.

The other parents are already waiting; they had each been made aware that somepony tried to foalnap Cure, but only the members of the Guard knew how many attackers were present. The single mothers are quick to run over and snatch up their fillies, and all the rest are just behind them.

Lt. Spear dispatches a squad to escort Cure’s family, plants, Delta Coast and her dam, Ferric and hers, and Heavy’s family to their homes. Once the other foals and parents are dropped off the entire squad will secure Cure’s home and ensure nopony is waiting at the residence. Lt. Spear herself will escort Cure and Deed there after a quick meeting with the town’s sergeants.

Cure had to pull the lieutenant aside to warn her that his house has a far more aggressive version of the plant that subdued eight royal guards. With her approval he attaches a small patch of fur with a “friendly” scent marker to each guard’s armor that will let them bypass the security for the night.

Another squad accompanies Rising, her dam, Midnight Gem, and Onyx Mark while Thunder, Tailwind, Rain, and three Guard pegasi escort the girls home; Snowstorm apparently stayed behind to watch Swirling Leaf and Frigid Glaze at the Flare/Dance house.

Emerald is quick to tackle hug her daughter, showering the filly in kisses. After Dawn relents and accepts the love she grabs Solar and even Starlight in tight hugs. Cure assumes Haze let it slip how many creatures came after the group, and when the colt pans his gaze from the blue mare’s enthusiastic greeting to the sergeant, he notes an uncomfortable shifting of posture and a poorly concealed guilty look.

While giving the stallion a disapproving stare, Cure’s lack of focus lets the mare get the jump on him, wrapping him in a tight surprise hug and thanking him for keeping her foals safe again. He can only imagine the amount of stress she’s felt since Haze blabbed, so he plays along and comforts the mare, giving her a nuzzle in return.

Once she releases him he calls out to the ponies in charge. “Lieutenant, Staff Sergeant. Would you be okay with Mrs. Aura, Dawn, Corporal Strike, and Miss Shine accompanying us?” Solar’s updated rank gets a double-take from his parents. Emerald whispers with her son, getting confirmation of the promotion that came from Princess Celestia herself. Cure expected his sire to be informed, but apparently the princess thought he may appreciate hearing the good news directly from the young stallion himself.

Whoops.

The lieutenant looks between the group of unicorns and nods, then glances at the confused looking staff sergeant who shrugs and gives his okay. With the box of his royal adornments on his back, Cure trots along, side by side with Dawn and his sire, followed by Emerald, Solar, and Starlight and surrounded by a lieutenant, a staff sergeant, two sergeants, and a squad of privates and corporals.

They arrive at the station only a few minutes later and, after a round of bathroom breaks, the troops relax in the break room while the sergeants, Cure, Deed, Solar, Starlight, Dawn, Emerald, and Lt. Spear use the bigger bullpen room since their normal conference room isn’t large enough for all the occupants.

As soon as the door shuts, Cure trots up to the front of the room. “Alright, so I’m tired and I’m sure everypony wants to get wherever, be it bed, a hotel, or back to their shift, so I’ll make this quick. As much as I’d love to come up with something immensely amusing, I’m just not feeling it right now. Long story short, I’m not an earth pony. I’m an alicorn and Princess Celestia or her press corps will be announcing my coronation tomorrow, probably. It’ll happen at the Sun Celebration in just under seven weeks.”

He reveals his wings and horn, levitates the box off his back, opens it, and slips the peytral and crown over and on top of his head in one quick motion. “Questions?” he asks, looking between the shocked ponies that were not already aware.

“Damn, colt. Way ta ease them inta it.”

Cure rolls his eyes at his sire. “Like I said, it’s late. We’re all tired, I’m sure, and I bet everypony wants nothing more to go home, take a nice, hot shower, and climb in bed.”

Bulwark gives Spear a look seeking confirmation. Once she nods he turns back to the colt and asks, “Have you always been an alicorn?”

“No. Technically I’ve been an alicorn for about four months, but apparently if you do enough crazy crap you explode and, instead of dying, you come back and get the entire alicorn package. I had wings and could fly, but didn’t have pegasus weather magic before. I do now, and I’ll be hiring a tutor to learn how that works, sooner or later.”

“Explode?” Emerald asks, eyes bulging in surprise.

“Yep, he blew up after we hit him with pies,” Dawn explains.

Solar steps in to clarify. “He and his parents demonstrated some plant magic ritual they do in their garden. That’s why their food is so fantastic; Mrs. Vines’ talent is related to growing crops. Well, Cure joined in for the first time ever. Her majesty had arranged a prank and had pies for us to hit him with afterwards.”

“I had pulled a couple pranks on her the previous day. She was getting even.”

Starlight explains his prank to the group, “He used his talent to look like a bunny version of her highness and interrupted her court. Sort of,” she clarifies, “she was just about to call for a recess. It was ridiculously adorable, by the way.”

Cure preens under the praise from the pretty mare.

“She squealed like a little filly when she saw him!” Dawn cackles, clapping her hooves in glee.

“You remember when I yelled and y’all heard it all over?” Everypony nods at the memory. “She did the same thing in a high pitched squeal. Blew out a few hundred windows. Literally. In my defense, her lungs are a lot bigger. One day, maybe…” he wistfully sighs.

“It took a few hours for our unicorns to Mend everything,” Lt. Spear adds, shooting Cure a light glare.

“And she wants you to come back?” Song asks incredulously.

Scoffing, Cure fluffs his feathers, “She can’t get enough of me. I’m irresistible, obviously.”

“Riiight,” she patronizingly agrees. “Wait, should we be addressing you as ‘Your Highness’ now?”

Realization sets in on the others and Emerald gasps in surprise. “Nah, I’m keeping my identity a secret until I’m an adult at least. That’s why this stuff was in a closed box and I hid my extra limbs. When acting as a royal I’ll go by Prince Serpentus and look like this,” he explains, quickly changing his appearance, voice, and revealing his true mark. “My mark changed, by the way, so the snake and tree are the real thing.”

“That… happens?” Haze asks.

“Alicorn stuff, sarge,” he says with a shrug. “My mane and tail will start being all whispy in a few years and I’ll probably end up eighteen hooves tall by the time I’m fully grown. I dunno, it’s not like there’s a lot of examples to work from.”

“You’re immortal now!” Emerald shouts.

“I basically already was. I just don’t share all of my capabilities for a few reasons. One, in case somepony tries what they did on the train. Another is because I can’t save everypony. I can already do a lot though. Want to be twenty two again? Want more foals? Another colt? My talent is biology. Before yesterday I just didn’t have much magic to throw around. I’m almost caught up with Dawn now. Just wait until I’m fifteen.”

“We… had assumed you could do most of that stuff all along,” Bulwark confesses. Haze and Song both nod, so Cure can only assume they’re referring to some kind of threat assessment they’ve discussed. Emerald and Starlight look stunned by the news of the age reversal, but neither seem to be able to find their voice.

Haze looks between him and Dawn and asks, “Are you going to move to Canterlot?”

“Maybe in a year or so. The princess wants me to go to her school and learn how to properly ‘alicorn’ from her on the side. I planned on getting Dawn in too; call it favoritism if ya want, but I’ll flat out pay for her if need be and she’s interested.” Unsurprisingly, her whole family is nodding eagerly.

“For now, though, very little will change. I’ll go get crowned next month, come back, and maybe occasionally get asked to attend a function here or there. When I turn ten some things will probably change. I’ll apparently have a room by hers in the castle that I can use whenever. I may buy us,” he waves to his sire, “a nice house and we may move. I can fly here from the capital in an hour or two whenever I want, mostly, so you won’t be rid of me too soon, sorry for ya.

“By the way, sarge,” he says to Bulwark, “the princess talked y’all up to Captain Stalwart Shield, so I hope you’re gonna bring your A-game come the fall. I can’t have my home team beaten by a buncha Canterlot snobs, no offense,” he quickly adds, glancing to the lieutenant then back, “now can I?”

Bulwark gives him a smirking grin while nodding in agreement. “Damn right, son. Maybe you can come watch us stomp them flat since you’ll be a prince, officially, by then.”

“I’ll hafta ask. I bet she’d be thrilled if I showed any interest in ‘prince’ stuff at all. Does she attend?”

“She usually does for some of it,” Lt. Spear answers. “It goes for a couple days, so she shows up for the awards ceremony at the very least.”

“Cool, though I may not be able to cheer for you out loud. Hidden identity and all. Of course, one super-muscular squad from a random suburb is gonna stand out pretty badly anyhow.”

Lt. Spear takes a look at the three sergeants in the room and slowly nods. Bulwark, in particular, looks like he’s chiseled from stone, but Haze and Song both have obvious, solid muscle definition. The bat pony, especially. She has pectorals that even an earth pony would be proud of. “Yeah, that may be an issue,” she quietly confirms. “But on the other hoof, everypony there will be guards and their families.”

“You can give ponies twins, can’t you?” Emerald finally asks, seemingly out of nowhere. The errant question gets surprised looks from everypony not in the know.

He nods in confirmation. “I can cause a mare to have two eggs instead of one. Or three. I’m not sure if more would be safe without frequent checkups.”

“Hmm. I believe one of my corporals has been telling everypony she has twin colts on the way.” Cure whistles innocently and turns away. Bulwark sighs and confesses, “I figured as much. She gushed about the massage then danced around excited about twins barely a week later, way too soon after estrus hit to even know.”

“Dunno what you’re talking about, sarge. Patient confidentiality, ya know. Not that I’m confirming she is a patient, of course.”

“Uh huh.” His eyes flick up to the crown. “Should I inform my soldiers?”

“I’ll leave that to you. So long as they can keep quiet, I don’t care. Lt. Spear?”

“Need to know for now, sergeant. There’s no reason to tell everypony. They can find out after the investigation is wrapped up and he’s all official.”

“Understood.”

“Cool. Anything else before we all go our separate ways?” he asks the room.

“Are you still angry with me?” Emerald timidly asks.

Haze’s shoulders slump at the reminder of that event and Solar at least has the decency to look ashamed at worrying his dam. Cure just rolls his eyes. “Mrs. Aura, I think we all moved on. I wasn’t angry ten minutes after and I’m not angry now.”

He pans across the room waiting for anypony else to speak up. When nopony does he nods in acknowledgement and claps his hooves. “Alright, good deal. I don’t have anything else urgent, but I’ll probably need to talk to you when we go lifting on Friday, sarge. Let’s go get some sleep, everypony. Goodnight, Sgt. Song, Sgt. Bulwark.”

He takes off the gear and stows it away as Dawn approaches. She nuzzles into his cheek with hers and gives him a peck on his jaw. “Goodnight, Cure.”

He wraps her in a wing hug, nuzzling down her cheek and neck and pulling her tight against his chest. “Goodnight, Sunrise. Go get a good night’s sleep. I’ll see you at school in the morning.”

Stepping into the astral is as strange of a sensation as it is easy to do. Cure was not being deceptive when he had described it earlier. The closest analog he can come up with is that he mentally parts the curtain between planes, then slides through the gap. Concerned that a sister could somehow find their way to the spot he departed from, he lightened himself and hovered near his ceiling before making the transition.

Princess Celestia arrives seconds after him, materializing a few meters away as if walking out of a cloud. “Evenin’ highness.”

As she approaches she returns the greeting, laying on her barrel once she is within a meter of him. “Good evening, Cure. I assume you did not encounter any difficulties along the way?”

“Nope.” He takes his spot between her forelegs, pressing his dock against her chest and using her right leg as a pillow. “We, Lt. Spear and I, that is, met with Bulwark, Song, and Haze. Emerald Aura was at the station to meet Dawn and Solar, so I asked her to tag along when I gave them the update on the whole alicorn thing.”

She lightly chuckles, shaking her head at the flippancy of the statement. “’The alicorn thing,’ he says. They took it well?”

“Yep. I’m thinking Bulwark musta had a better idea of what I could really do than most. They all just kinda took it in stride. If you’re okay with it I may attend the squad competition come fall. Kinda cheer on my home team and all, ya know? As much as I can while maintaining my anonymity.”

“An excellent idea. I’ll find out when the event is scheduled by our next meeting.”

“Cool. Anything I need to know about happen today?”

“No. Little happens officially on Sundays. I expect this coming week to be busy. I have several meetings with members of the council regarding the zebras, coronation plans, Guard readiness discussions, and, thanks to your departing gift, a meeting with the Department of Agriculture. Thank you for putting them all in labeled bags, by the way. The cleaning staff were very surprised at the quality of the material.”

“Only the finest for Her Majesty!” he insists, nuzzling into her leg.

“Why didn’t you say anything to me? I had assumed you were holding out for the tax rebate.”

“Dunno. Wanted to surprise ya,” he answers, shrugging his wings. “Really, with the trees alone I am ‘donating’ tens of thousands of bits each week. I’m pretty sure that once those are approved and start getting used it won’t matter, and I have no interest in farming or the normal food industry. I felt like I was being kind of a prick by not sharing food. I told you I’d never let ponies go hungry anyhow. Actions speak louder.”

She reaches down and nuzzles into his mane. “That was very kind of you. There’s enough variety that I’m sure it will take many years for them to test everything and begin phasing out the standard crops, assuming all goes well.”

“Yeah, they’ll wanna ease into that. You don’t want warehouses just chalked full of wheat or whatever sitting around doing nothing, after all. That creates problems too.”

“Indeed. I have little desire to deal with a booming vermin population, and nopony wants to see food rot.”

“Yep. Maybe Equestria can eventually start exporting food to starving regions of the world to foster goodwill or something. Just watch out for the local food economy; you don’t wanna bankrupt their farmers by hoofing over tens of thousands kilos of free stuff right before their harvest. It may be best to sell at market rates, or slightly lower, once local supply is exhausted. The money can go towards developing their infrastructure or charities here instead.”

“Excellent points. I’ll make note to mention such during the ensuing conversations.”

Conversation stills for a moment. Cure is happy to lay on her leg and take in her warmth. He considers it odd that even on another plane the physical still seems… physical, for lack of a better term. Then again, he figures that maybe this is just the only frame of reference his mind has to process the environment. He makes note to experiment at some point to see if there’s more to this place than what he’s seeing. Perfect opportunity for a “more than meets the eye” joke and nopony would even get it, he silently laments.

“I probably need to get some sleep. I’m sure her highness could use some rest to prepare for a long week ahead of her as well.”

“Indeed. Little colts do need their rest.” Nosing at his ear she teases, “We don’t want you getting cranky, do we?”

He rolls to his back between her legs and flails, playfully kicking at her chest while writhing his limbs and crying, “I don’t wanna go to school! It’s dumb and boring and everypony there is stooopid!”

Giggling at the silliness she chides the colt, “Now, now. Be a good colt for your teacher. If you behave yourself then maybe I’ll get you a prize when next you visit.”

He stops his wiggles, freezing in place to look up at the mare. “A fancy crown?!” he asks hopefully, eyes widening comically in excitement.

“Only smart colts get crowns, so pay attention and we shall see.”

“Fiiine!” he huffs, visibility calming. “Goodnight, princess.”

“Goodnight, prince,” she replies, sticking her tongue out.

He blows out another huff and gives her a weak glare. Relenting with an eye roll he says, “Fine! Goodnight, Sunny. Don’t let the bed bugs bite!” The colt blows a raspberry before disappearing in a flash of light.

“Bed… bugs?” she repeats, struggling to imagine why there may be bugs in her bed. Her mind flashes to her white pegasus disguise testing her mattress, then discussions of hidden egg sacks erupting in mosquito wasps before her eyes widen in alarm. “He wouldn’t dare!”

A fiery flash fills the astral, vaporizing the whispy clouds nearby as a certain alicorn makes haste to her chambers, intent on thoroughly checking over her bedding.

Cure falls only a hoof before twisting around and catching himself in the air. Nopony is under him anyhow, but he makes a mental note that if he leaves the astral on his back then that’s also how he’ll appear on the material plane as well.

Amethyst is on his bed, brows hiked to her mane at his impromptu gymnastics display. “Way ta stick the landin, colt.” He notes the girls fast asleep against her tummy; the dark mare curled around her daughters like a protective momma cat with a sheet half covering them.

“I do try to impress,” he says in response before tilting his head towards the door. “Coming?”

“Sure, lemme…” she mumbles, attempting to untangle herself without disturbing the sleeping fillies. Cure isn’t sure why she’s worried; the pair would sleep through armageddon as long as they have a warm body to snuggle with. She eventually gets free and climbs down, muttering a “shattap, brat” in passing at his amused look.

The pair make their way to the master bedroom and find the other four talking about plans for work around the Celebration. Deed and Title need to plan in advance and Lemon is considering his idea of expanding, tossing around the possibility of hiring somepony for the kitchen but lamenting the small space available.

“If you don’t have enough room for two bodies in the kitchen, consider looking for a place nearby to move the entire kitchen area to, then you can double or triple the storefront space. I could make you a ‘living’ cart with the pegasus aura and you could move hundreds of kilograms of finished product in one trip. Dam, I’ll see about doing the same thing for your wagon after we move. It never occurred to me before.”

“Damn, Cure… that’s a great idea,” the yellow mare compliments. Amethyst hops up on the bed and lays across her wife’s back. Cure snuggles between his dam’s forelegs as usual.

He continues, “You could have multiple locations and one kitchen that way. It may work better in Baltimare; more customers, more location options without them competing with each other. I’m sure there’ll be stalls at the Celebration too, but they’re probably all rented out by now.”

Title suggests an alternative. “Maybe we can see if there’s any available in Canterlot for Nightmare Night; it would be a great way to introduce your brand to the city in case we end up moving. Or if you just want to expand to another city.”

Lemon frowns in thought, nodding while mulling the suggestions over.

Cure takes a deep breath and says, “So…” and slowly exhales.

“Are you alright, sweetie?”

“I guess. I was… not surprised, just… I dunno,” he sighs, laying his chin on her leg. “I’m not really sure what to think, to be honest. I didn’t learn anything new in regards to my memories.”

“I’m guessing you didn’t see anything from before?” Title asks. Cure hadn’t had an opportunity to talk to his parents alone without suspicion of listening ears the entire time they were at the palace, or on the train ride home.

He didn’t trust a Sound Bubble once the princess showed she could pierce his invisibility so easily, and he never knew if some kind of magical listening device could have been in their rooms. It’s unlikely, but at least in their own house he should detect the scent of an intruder and his guard plant didn’t have anypony imprisoned.

“No. To be fair, though, I didn’t see anything until just before I got my mark either. I dunno, I’m freaking done worrying about it, just like I’ve said all along. That doesn’t change the fact that the girls still need to know before any kind of committed relationship starts. The princess and I talked for a while about future events. I got her to cuss, which was hilarious.”

The statement gets curious looks from the group, so he elaborates. “There were twin balconies for the celestial ritual. I commented about the other being for her sister when she returns. She asked how much I know. I expressed concern about discussing the future, so she did some privacy spell and we chatted for a bit. When I pointed out that my existence may fudge up everything she expressed some mild annoyance.”

“Well, how annoyin ya are aside,” Deed teases, continuing despite the glare, “it may set her mind at ease. She don’t gotta wonder why ya know so much stuff ya shouldn’t.”

Vines nods against his back. “She obviously still trusts you, so that’s a good sign.”

“He ain’t given ‘er a reason not ta,” Amethyst points out. “Shit, them seeds alone were millions ‘a bits worth ‘a food in a couple years.”

“Plus he’s got the most valuable seed of all still,” Title comments in a snort.

Vines turns to glare at the pink mare while the other three struggle not to laugh. “There is no need to be crass, Title Search.”

“Ooh, full name!” Lemon blurts out. “Yer in it now, babe!”

“I mean… she’s not wrong,” Cure mumbles. He wrinkles his snout in thought. “Ugh, even the thought is so weird. I know she doesn’t look it, but she’s so old. Like, sooo old. Seriously, can you picture Princess Celestia talking dirty? She still does some of that ‘ye olde talk’ and she puts out that grandma vibe.”

Even Vines has to stifle a laugh at the image; the other four are doing a poor job not laughing. In the princess’s voice he says, “Oh Cure, take me! Come, snuff the inferno of mine solar loins with thine lifegiving essence! Mind the hips!”

Giggling despite herself, Vines jabs his side, prodding him to stop while the others roll in the bed laughing their heads off.

“Anyhow,” he says, rolling his eyes, “I lost all my progress on the griffon mitochondria. I also lost damn near every other physical upgrade that alicorns don’t already have. No subdermal mesh, no venom glands, normal bones again, etcetera. Apparently whatever process I went through set me back to, basically, baseline pony. The only change between what y’all have and what I do is that I can flip a switch and crystalize my coat.”

“I thought you said crystal ponies didn’t have anything special,” Title says.

“Their coats have different pigmentation, but this is apparently an active thing, see?” He flips the mental switch, causing his coat to gain a blue ethereal sparkling shimmer to it.

“Oh, that’s pretty, honey!”

“It looks kinda like her mane,” Deed points out.

He pulls his tail to the side and looks at it more closely. “Huh. It does, doesn’t it? I wonder if she’s doing that consciously. Luna’s mane will have a similar starry thing, ya know, assuming…”

“That aside,” Vines interrupts, “are you okay? You went through a lot of unexpected changes this weekend. I know the whole immortality revelation was a shock for you. I felt you tense.”

“It was. It still is. No matter what I do I’ll still outlast everypony. God, how did she survive being alone for so long?” He inhales to sigh, involuntarily yawning instead. “I’ll be fine, I guess, for a while. Y’all aren’t going anywhere for a long damn time either way. I’m not gonna let something upset me now when it won’t be an issue at all for, possibly, hundreds of years. Especially since you all may, at some point, join the club.”

“Yeesh, no thanks,” Lemon replies in a wretch.

Cure is quick to remind her, “You may not get to say no. I didn’t see that coming.”

“Do ya think she did?” Deed asks. “She said she didn’t, but,” he trails off with a shrug.

“Ehhh… I doubt it. She seemed genuinely offended when I asked. Besides, she even confessed she expected it to happen when the twins show up.”

“The princess wouldn’t lie like that,” Vines insists, scowling at her husband.

“Maybe not that,” Amethyst agrees, “but don’t go thinkin she ain’t ever lied ta nopony. Ya don’t live that long without gettin some dirt in yer frog.”

His dam softens her look and nods in understanding.

“I didn’t mention one thing of note before. When we moved the moon and sun there wasn’t more than a couple seconds of delay between when she started pushing and a reaction was visible.”

Title realizes the significance right away. “You told me it took something like eight minutes for light to travel from Earth’s sun to the planet…”

“Exactly. I don’t know what that means, but the way this solar system works must be fundamentally different from what I know. Whatever the setup is, it works, so… I’ll let future Cure worry about that, I guess.” The sentence is punctuated with another yawn, prompting the colt to lay his head against his dam’s foreleg.

She leans over her son and smushes his cheek in a loud kiss. “You should go to bed and finally get some restful sleep. It’s late and you’ve had several very busy days in a row. I love you, sweetie.”

“Love you, dam,” he replies, sitting up and turning to wrap her neck in a hug. One by one he wishes everypony goodnight and gives them some love.

He makes his way to Savvy’s crib before heading out, hopping up and hovering down to her. He gives her a nuzzle and pets through her mane, cooing at the filly. “Goodnight, sweet pea,” he softly calls. She wiggles slightly before stilling, so he lets the girl sleep and leaves, closing the door behind him.

Hopping back on his bed, he plugs into his plant, revoking the “friendly” designation for the scent marker he gave the guards and arming all defensive systems. Done with the last bit of “business” he snuggles against his sisters, laying his left wing over them, unplugs from his plant, and settles in for a restful night of sleep.

Author's Note

So yeah... this whole chapter was just going to be a few paragraphs at the tail end of 64, originally. I'm not sure if anyone has noticed yet, but on rare occasions I tend to make chapters longer than intended, thus the day gets its own chapter.

A few things. First & foremost, as I've said in the last few A/N's, I'll be taking a few weeks off. A good chunk of that is due to travel, but some of it is so that I have time to build up a buffer again. I have Chapters 66 and 67 basically done and 68 about half way. You can expect 66 on June 5th.

I am sharing all of this because, as a reader of many a fiction, I know how devastating it is when a work just... stops. There was one I liked that started in about 2015 and, with no warning whatsoever, the author just seemingly disappeared a few years later and like 70 chapters in. They occasionally did 1 line responses to comments for a while after, but never bothered saying, "Oh hey, I ran out of ideas, sorry, this would have ended like X" or whatever; just ghosted everyone, more or less.

I get it, really. If I didn't have fun writing then, inevitably, I would find more enjoyable ways to spend my time too. Until that happens, I'll just keep chuggin along as I have been and, if that day does ever come, I'll at least have the decency to come in here and say "hey folks, here's what's up."

I want to reiterate that I have no plans to do so. I have ideas and things I want to happen clear into Cure's adulthood. Getting from here to there will require some skippage, but that's inevitable in any story. That's why basically none of them give dates; the movement of time is vague and arbitrary. That's not really my style, obviously.

Anyhow, far shorter chapters are coming up. 66 should be around 5k, then 8k for 67, and I'm about 5k into 68, estimating it to end up somewhere around 6-7, maybe. Perhaps slightly longer. I plan on continuing the one chapter per week schedule, releasing new ones each Monday so that, hopefully, the day can suck slightly less for everyone.

Thanks for reading and commenting, folks. Enjoy!

Chapter 66: Intern

Saturday, May 9th, 909 AB (6 days later)

“Gotta say, ma, I’m surprised you’re wantin ta come too.”

“You serious? I ain’t missin out on their reactions. ‘Sides, somepony has to make sure this one,” she bumps her shoulder against Deed, “doesn’t make ya sign your life away or something.”

Deed rolls his eyes at the accusation, choosing not to fall for the bait.

The three had just set out from the house on their way to the clinic. Given Cure’s propensity to drop absurd presents on them, Dr. Care was eager to meet with them before his shift starts.

“Yeah, I think that ship has sailed, ma.” With a deep sigh, Cure laments aloud in a groan, “God, what was I thinking?!”

“Oh quit your whining, Cure. I don’t think you could have asked for a better deal. Have you thought at all about what would have happened if you completely refused?”

“It… probably would have been kinda devastating if I had,” he admits. “Having another alicorn show up after nine hundred years of being the only one, then have him turn his rear on ya? I don’t think I could do that to her, even if the thought did briefly cross my mind.”

Stifling a chuckle, his sire asks, “Before or after she fluffed them big feather dusters atchya?”

“Had to be before. I’m not so sure he was doing much thinkin after. Not with the brain upstairs, at least.”

“C’mon! It’s not like I let that get to me!” Both parents give the colt a disbelieving look. “Much. It didn’t get to me much. Ya hafta admit, there’s some soft, warm, high quality snuggles under them wings.”

“The hug was pretty nice,” Title admits. “I could see it getting a smidge sweaty if it lasted too long though.”

Deed nods in agreement. “She was pretty toasty, can’t deny that.”

“Oh?” Cure asks, smiling mischievously. “Finally warming up to her, pa?”

Deed rolls his eyes. “Ain’t happening, colt. Stop teasin the poor mare.”

“Super serious here, dad. She is, as mom noted, an objectively pretty mare. Is it her size? Is that the issue?”

“Well, that’s part of it, sure,” his sire nods. “Ya can’t deny it’s a bit intimidatin.”

“Private medical info aside, pa, she’s physically not much larger than any other mare. I mean, she’s taller, sure, but like I said after my… incident…”

“You mean when ya blew up?” Title helpfully supplies.

“... Yes, that. So like I said, frame-wise she’s closer to a taller, slightly stockier unicorn than a legitimate earth pony. Again, these are all observations I made prior to our trip. I’m not saying anything at all based on my scan of her. Not even to you guys.”

“That ain’t the only reason, champ,” the stallion argues. “She’s the princess, ya feel me?”

“So… it’s an awe thing?”

“You gotta keep in mind, honey,” Title explains, “for all of our lives, not to mention the lives of everypony else that’s alive, she’s been this untouchable icon. We get that she’s a mare, too, but it’s still just too weird. I mean, I’d do it for bragging rights alone but I would probably feel like I did something I shouldn’t have afterwards.”

“Well said, babe. Tha thought of doin that with her just… it feels wrong, son. Besides, seems fate has somepony else lined up for her anyways.” Cure cringes at the reminder, a move that gets a satisfied chuckle out of the dark stallion. “Yup, now I get ta tease you ‘bout it instead. How do ya like them apples, colt?”

“Ugh. Guess I kinda walked right into that one.”

“You’re forgetting the weirdest part,” Title says. “How messed up would it be if your sire serviced her needs now then you gotta later? Even if it’s years down the road that’s still ground he’s sewn his oats on. In. Whichever.”

“Probably both nowadays,” Deed helpfully adds.

Cure freezes mid-step, the parents stopping a step later to look over their withers at the stunned colt. The suggestion gets an open-mouthed, wide-eyed, horrified frown from the colt that causes his mom to blast out a snort upon seeing. “Oh that is just wrong!” he shouts. A full-bodied shudder passes through the colt, starting at his head and going all the way down his spine out through his tail. Even his hidden wings involuntarily spasm, but a quick glance around shows nopony paying any attention, thankfully. “So gross!”

With the scent of blood in the water, she leans closer to taunt, “Just think about it, Cure, if she has taken only one lover every five years then that’s as many as three, four hundred stallions that she’s been with. What’s one more, hmm?”

“Eww…”

“I mean, I’ve never thought to get a measuring cup, but with that many lovers she’s had literally hundreds of liters of -”

“Babe…” Deed interrupts, cringing at the unpleasant image.

“Fine,” she relents. “Thank goodness for alicorn immune systems, huh, Cure?” she teases with a broad smile. “You know at least one of ‘em hadta have something. It’s just a numbers game at that point. She was around way before anypony knew what germs were, after all. Guess you two are different enough it didn’t stick, hmm?”

He furrows his brow in thought, reluctantly agreeing as he starts walking again, “You’re actually not wrong. We can’t catch most of what other creatures can. Viral cells look for specific cell markers to indicate viable host cells capable of being hijacked to produce more viruses. If they can’t find any, the white blood cells, which seem a lot more aggressive in us, will eventually peg them as an invader and eat ‘em.

“If they never reproduce, they get wiped out early and we wouldn’t show any symptoms. Especially her since her operating body temperature is a couple degrees hotter. I bet most viruses would literally cook to death in her blood. She’s effectively walking around with a high fever at all times, after all.

“I kinda wonder if her sister is the opposite, even though that flies in the face of my understanding of astrophysics. Everypony automatically assumes the moon is cold since, in some ways, conceptually, it’s the opposite of the sun, but in reality it would be way hotter on the one side since it doesn’t have an atmosphere to shield it from solar radiation.

“At least, in a nonmagical solar system. I can’t even fathom how this,” he waves at the sky, “whole mess works, especially if the moon is indeed on the direct opposite side of the planet from the sun at all times. It would have to be an actual light source in and of itself instead of just reflecting light like what I’m used to. Given it doesn’t go through phases, that basically has to be the case anyhow, I suppose.”

Both parents stare at the colt, then trade a look. Title finally comments, “You are such a nerd. Only you could go off on a clinical rant like that in response to an STI quip.”

“Well, it’s true,” he says, shrugging in response.

“Regardless, at some point she’s almost definitely going to ask you to stud for her, so after giving your sire a hard time, you’re going to ultimately be the one fulfilling the obligation.”

“Guess so,” he begrudgingly agrees. “Man, talk about fucking up the timeline. So much of my future knowledge is worthless now. At least, any that relies on things that happen in Equestria. Which is basically everything in the show since it was all pony-centric. I still have my genre savviness to rely on and knowledge about who to watch out for. I wonder what impact it will have when she starts having foals.”

“She?” By the tone of the question he can tell his mom expected “we” instead.

He shrugs in response. “I have no idea what her expectations of my involvement would be. She may want to do most of the work and just have me pop in on occasion. You know, something like how Onyx and Diamond do it with Ferric. Did it. Whatever. She may want me to knock her up and go the hell away.”

“And you would be okay with that?” she asks. “The latter is more common but you strike me as the type to want to be more involved.”

“Yes, absolutely. If she wants the full ‘dam experience’ then I wouldn’t get in the way of that. She’s earned that right a thousand times over. Besides, weird as it is to imagine actually poundin out the boss lady, picturing raising a foal with her is so far out there I can’t even do it.”

“I’d think she’d hafta have a few nannies, colt. Dam or not, she’d still be awfully busy. Nation won’t run itself while she’s playin with a foal, sadly.”

“Or,” he smirks, glancing between the two, “maybe the foal’s grandpa and grandmas can come lend a hoof. How friggin weird would it be for you all, in your mid-thirties, to be the grandparents of a foal born of a mare sixty times your age?”

“Yer dam may literally explode in joy at the opportunity, colt.”

“That sounds terrifying,” Title notes. “Not the whole thing about her age, that's just odd, but I remember what you said about the alicorn filly from your memories. I prefer not to hang around foals that may accidentally vaporize my head, thankyouverymuch.”

“That's a good policy in general. Truthfully, though, I bet she'd want to be super involved anyhow. Maybe one or both Blueblood will step into some kinda leadership role,” Cure suggests. “By then forty-six will have several years of leadership experience and, hopefully, has been raised since birth to do something other than loaf around and get sloshed.”

Title asks, “Did he strike you as the type?”

Cure shrugs, reminding her, “I heard him speak one sentence the whole time. Not exactly enough to get a bead on him.”

She furrows her brows in thought. “I… think I got the context, but I’ve never heard the expression before.”

“Ah. It’s probably related to a weapon you all don’t have, and hopefully never will. Specifically, acquiring a target in your aiming mechanism.”

“So humans used an idiom for murdering somepony to say they understand them?” she asks.

“More or less, yeah.”

“And ya still insist they’re no more violent than ponies?”

“Don’t forget, babe,” Deed interrupts, “somepony just tried ta foalnap tha colt. Or worse,” he adds in a growl. “It ain’t like ponies are perfect.”

The pink mare grimaces as she turns to look forwards again, nodding in acceptance.

Cure speaks up after a few seconds of walking in silence. “Anyhow, I don’t know if Blueblood, either one of ‘em, knows leadership, but one would hope he can at least effectively wield some kind of influence. Senior might have come off a little rude, but he wasn’t the whiny, stupid, egotistical ass that their whatever-great grandson was portrayed in the show. Maybe the whole earth pony thing just legitimately surprised him enough to throw him off his game.”

“Maybe,” she half-heartedly agrees.

“He prolly ain’t hung around with many earth ponies, babe. Who knows what kinda stuff them other nobles have told ‘em.”

“Right,” Cure agrees. “He may just be like Emerald was. Lack of exposure and all that. Most of the actual doctors she’s seen over the years were probably unicorns, so she just associated ‘unicorn’ with ‘better.’ Exposure is the only way to get around that.

“Besides, he was just one possible idea. I’ve said it a dozen times; there’s gotta be ponies with talents specifically in leadership who could do a better job than, possibly, even her. It just depends on how much Harmony whispers in their ear and how well they listen, I guess. And, whether the instruction is any good.”

“True, true…” she concedes. “What about other mares? I bet a bunch of nobles would leap at the opportunity to have an alicorn’s foal, even if technically it’ll be an earth pony’s.”

“I’m not sure, ma. I think I would only be concerned about having a foal with somepony that is either trying to have one with me as a way to have an ‘in’ or if they were not in a stable situation that a foal needs to have. I’d be devastated to find out in twenty years that my child was raised in a shitty environment that I should have known about before the act.

“Nobles may be looking for an in, granted, but at least the foal should be well cared for. In theory. It’s not like having a title makes you exempt from being a shitty parent, I suppose. Overall I’d be more concerned over mares I have no way of checking into. At least with a noble you know who they are; they’re not gonna just up and disappear.”

“Just get your license once you’re fifteen,” she suggests. “Family Planning screens applicants, so you really only need to watch out if you don’t go through them. Lots of stallions do that even if they’re not actually charging anything just so they have the peace of mind.”

“That rings a bell. I think you,” he looks to his sire, “mentioned that once. It’s going to cause an absolute riot if everypony knows an alicorn has signed up. I’ll probably have to talk to Family Planning to see where and how they want me to do that.”

“You wouldn’t just stay local?”

“Half’a the town’ll be family in five years, babe. He’d be best off goin to a big city.”

“Yeah, preferably one nowhere near here. Or Canterlot, whichever locale we decide to settle in. I think it would be too weird, at least initially, ta pound out a bunch of mares then bump into ‘em when I’m out and about.”

“Everypony, for the most part, keeps it separate, honey. Nopony wants to make stallions uncomfortable and less inclined to participate. That wouldn’t help anypony in the long run.”

“True. Still, it would be a good excuse to do some traveling. Chilcoltgo, Cloudsdale, Manehattan… I guess I could just work my way down the list by population sizes. Do they just like… give prospective dams a menu and have ‘em order a stud? How’s that work?”

“Ya oughta ask Lemon ‘n Amy, champ. If ya wanna know how the mare’s side of it works they can tell ya.”

“Eh… I guess it doesn’t matter much for me. Idle curiosity, I suppose. As long as somepony is monitoring the agency to ensure they’re being fair and impartial and they’re actually doing their jobs I would be fine with whatever. The whole system probably only has a few decades left before it’ll be obsolete anyhow. Hopefully.”

“True,” his mom concedes. Glancing towards the clinic, she spots Ivory Gale standing outside. “There’s Gale.”

Cure takes a couple quick steps to see around his parents as he turns the Sound Bubble crystal off. Sure enough, the light gray pegasus is smiling broadly, waving a wing in greeting. The trio approach the mare, trading greetings like every other time, and are led back past the desk to the usual conference room to find Dr. Care idly flipping through some paperwork.

She closes the folders and slides them back into her bag before greeting everypony, then levitates a white cardboard donut box over which is promptly snagged by Title with a happy thanks. Cure ends up between the parents, Deed on his left and Title on his right wantonly slamming a glazed donut in her face hole while doing the fat girl happy wiggle.

“So how was the show, Cure?” Gale asks. “My daughters and I have tickets for when they come near Baltimare towards the end of August and I can’t tell you how excited I am to see them again! I haven’t been to one of their shows since I was a teenager!”

“Ah, so you just saw them a couple years ago, then,” he says knowingly.

The light flirt gets a fluttery giggle and an “oh, you!” wave of her wing from the pegasus.

“It was seriously impressive. Best Hearth’s Warming present ever,” he insists, nuzzling against his parents’ sides. “Maybe I’ll go again in a few years. How bout you, Dr. Care? You ever been to one?”

“I have,” she answers. “About four years ago, in fact. I get tickets each time the city gets close; a perk of the position. Usually I give them away as prizes for an employee incentive program or a charity auction, but I went when they came by in nine-oh-five just to see what they were really like. I admit, it was impressive, but I can’t say I like being that far off the ground.”

“Yeah, a couple of my friends were scared at first but they calmed down by the time the show started. Three of my friends are pegasi so we kinda did a buddy system.”

Dr. Care and Ms. Gale both smile and nod in understanding. As a lull in the conversation sets in Cure looks at his sire and tilts his head towards the mares. Deed rolls his eyes but dutifully plays along. “Tha colt has some papers he needs ta show ya,” he explains, taking a couple steps around the table to the left and reaching in his bag. He leans over to slide a copy of Cure’s confidential “alicorn” identification paperwork to them, drawing their eyes away from the colt.

As soon as they’re not looking at him, his mom reaches in her bag and sticks the crown on his head while he unhides his wings, extends his horn, modifies his vocal folds, and alters his colors to the brown and gold design he’d shown the princess, then lifts his wings high off his back to maximize their visibility. To further drive the point home, he flips the mental switch, activating the ethereal glimmer from crystal ponies and giving himself a golden shine.

Cure and Title resume their otherwise nonchalant posture and wait until the pair is done reading while Deed moves back by his side. Cure struggles to hold back a giggle when he notices his mom’s shoulders shaking beside him. Deed gives the two an eye roll when he glances over but can’t completely hold back his smirk.

Dr. Care finishes first, looking up while saying, “Is this some kind of -” cutting off mid sentence as she recoils so hard away from the table she loses her balance and flops onto her right side.

The move gets a startled yelp from Gale and, as she looks back across the table, she freezes stock still, her only movement the comical widening of her eyes and her wings rising off her sides. Dr. Care, still on her barrel, peeks over the edge of the table; only her horn, pinned ears, and eyes visible to Cure.

Deed chuckles lightly to himself while his wife is half laying on the table, laughing her rear off, doing a poor job muffling it with one foreleg covering her face.

“Nope! No joke,” Cure answers. “Come sometime next month, Cure Wave will officially end his internship with the Baltimare RHA and starting sometime after the summer births are over with I,” he pauses to give an exaggerated wink, “will start volunteering in his stead.” He pauses a beat and adds, “Assuming that’s okay with everypony.”

“Whuh?” Gale intelligently asks.

He folds his wings back down and changes his vocal folds back, continuing in his normal voice. “Long story short, I’m an alicorn now. It’s apparently something that can happen,” he offers with a shrug.

Dr. Care finally gets her wits about her, returning to her spot at the table. “How?!”

“In all honesty I can’t tell you exactly how it works. Do a whole bunch of good, live by the tenets of Harmony, have a magical accident that kills you, and maybe you’ll get lucky and, after you die, you’ll come back. Can’t say I fully recommend trying.”

“You died?!” Gale nearly shrieks.

“Guess it depends on whatcha mean by dyin. The colt blew up,” Deed clarifies. “Big flash’a white, loud boom, and scorch mark on the ground. ‘Least he did it right in front’a the princess, so she explained what happened right away.”

“She’s seen it happen before?” Dr. Care asks, now intensely curious. “Herself or somepony else?”

“Mending! He said he DIED!” Gale shouts, jabbing the doctor’s shoulder with her right hoof. At this point Cure isn’t even sure if it’s possible for the sweet pegasus to not be adorable. She fully leans on the table, her expression and body language showing she’s barely holding herself back from hopping the table to hug the colt. Only his indifference to the whole thing is keeping her back. “Are you okay, Cure?”

“I’m fine, Ms. Gale,” he answers honestly. “I don’t really know if I died, technically,” Cure shrugs, then clarifies, “I mean, there was no real loss of consciousness. I guess in the same vein that we ‘die,’” he says with air quotes, “every night when we go to sleep is what I meant.

“Physically, I might as well have died and, without trying to sound like a nut here, been re… born? Remade?” He tilts his head in thought for a moment and shrugs again. “I can’t say for sure. I’m definitely not the same as I was, biologically, before. Is somepony still a pony if somehow they are magically transformed into a griffon?”

The mare frowns deeply in thought and settles back down against her seat, her wings folding back into the normal relaxed posture. “I don’t know. I guess as long as you’re okay, that’s all I’m worried about.”

“We talked it over afterwards,” Deed assures them, putting a hoof over Cure’s withers and pulling him against his side. “The colt’s the same annoying, smart-mouthed brat he ever was, so he ain’t changed too much.” Title nods vigorously at the assertion.

“Love you too, pa, ma,” he flatly replies. He turns to the doctor and tells her, “Anything that the princess shared with me would have to go through her. She didn’t explicitly say what was and was not confidential or private, but I don’t want to say something I shouldn’t. A few months ago I pointed out to a couple of my friends that our flag has two alicorns on it. Make of that what you will.”

Knowing Cure won’t give any more details without the princess’s blessing, Dr. Care decides to move on. “Huh. That’s reasonable. Would you mind coming in for an examination? We know almost nothing about alicorns and I don’t think anypony has ever asked her highness for a blood sample.”

“I don’t mind. I have a scheduled meeting with her tomorrow night. Umm, not like… physical. Alicorns can do a few things that nopony else can, apparently. I’ll ask if she’s okay with it. I mean, normally, I’d be fine, but with only two of us,” he trails off.

“Right,” she nods in understanding. “With only the two of you there is no such thing as anonymous data. Just Send me a message after you meet with her, if you could.”

“Doctor?” Gale softly calls. “I think we may have gotten distracted. Did you catch what he said about his internship?”

“Huh?” she mutters, glancing to Gale. “Oh! Right! Umm… I’ll need to probably bring this up at the board meeting tomorrow. I don’t anticipate that being a problem at all. In fact, having an alicorn prince as a volunteer healer?” she scoffs at the very idea of them declining. “We’ll be the envy of every hospital in the nation. Can I keep this copy?” she asks, holding up the page Deed had given her.

“Yep. Go ahead and share that with the board, just tell them that by royal decree that is to remain confidential until further notice.”

“Oh my…” Gale mumbles, holding a fetlock to her face, “Royal decree! Congratulations, your highness! I guess it hadn’t clicked right away!”

Dr. Care jolts like she’s been shocked, gasping in realization. “You’re a prince!”

Cure glances upwards towards the crown and shrugs, “Eh, technically, not yet. Is there even a term specifically for somepony that is going to be ennobled before the ceremony?” All four adults look to each other in consideration. After a few seconds where no answer comes forth the colt continues, “Guess not. I suppose it hasn’t happened many times when it comes to somepony that has no title at all.”

“Right, when somepony is going to be… promoted, I guess?” Dr. Care shares an unsure glance with Gale who shrugs back, “Close enough, I suppose. Regardless, you would normally call them by their title until it is changed; though it’s a tad different with the reigning monarch. If, maker forbid, something were to happen to her highness after your coronation you would, immediately after, be the High Prince. That is, assuming your title supersedes all others. Given there’s no other alicorns, I assume it will?”

“She said my title will be Grand Prince, so, yes. She specifically told me that once I come of age I’ll be second in line, but she’s unaging and so overwhelmingly powerful that I’m not too worried about that.”

“And thank goodness for that,” Dr. Care nods, “I shudder to think what would happen to the country, let alone the world, if she were not around to maintain the cycle.”

“No doubt. Anyhow, by official royal decree from her highness this is to be shared with only those members of the Baltimare RHA that need to know in order to facilitate the updates to my Creature Resources profile. I technically can’t issue decrees like that until after the ceremony.”

“Oh. I suppose that makes sense,” Dr. Care nods in understanding.

“A terrifying prospect,” his mom teases, nudging him with her foreleg.

Cure just rolls his eyes and carries on. “I would like to begin working under the name Prince Serpentus effective whenever I make it back from Canterlot, so probably early July. With everypony’s blessing, I would prefer to transfer my internship to Baltimare Hospital.

“The plan is to work with you all until next summer, at which point I’ll probably be either moving to Canterlot or, more likely, spending most of my time there attending CSGU while learning alicorn-related stuff directly from her highness.”

Seeking clarification, Dr. Care asks, “Alicorn related stuff?”

“Yeah, apparently we have some abilities other tribes don’t,” he explains, waving at his glittering coat. He turns off the effect and gives a weak shrug, telling them, “Don’t ask me the details, I can’t do much more than I could before, aside from the sparkly thing and communicating with her even when I’m far away.”

Even those meager abilities are pretty impressive to Gale, apparently. “You can talk to the princess whenever you want?”

“Sort of. The method is confidential, so for now I would prefer not to say anything other than we have a way of communicating over long distances.”

“Huh. Interesting,” Dr. Care mumbles, idly scratching at her chin. “Her majesty has never really shared much about what she can truly do. I would assume even a unicorn mage of her years to be unfathomably powerful. This is all very fascinating.”

Gale reaches over and pokes Dr. Care’s side with a wingtip, scowling at the constant interruptions. The dark green mare sheepishly apologizes and waves for Cure to continue.

“Right, so I plan on taking it easy until I need to leave for the births in Canterlot sometime in June, but starting when I transfer I would like to up my hours since I won’t be going to school and will have a lot more free time. There’s also the whole mobility thing,” he points out, waving a wing. “I can just fly out there in a few minutes if there’s an emergency.

“How would you feel about Monday, Wednesday, and Friday from eight to eleven, give or take? Ideally I’d come in, take care of anypony in the ICU and ER, then, as needed, come in when somepony is in critical condition, especially if they’re here in Golden Hills and the Origin Cell Trees won’t suffice.

“I was thinking that maybe a couple days a week if there’s critical or chronic cases from other cities they could, maybe, send ponies here? I dunno,” he adds. “I can’t really travel far ‘till I’m older, and I’ll never be able to be everywhere.”

Dr. Care considers the suggestion, nodding slowly. “That’s… a pretty significant increase, Cure. Are you sure you’re okay with all that?”

“Sure. It’s only a few hours in the morning three times a week. If anything it will work out better; I’ll be off on weekends and, if I can miraculously clear everypony out, I could just leave early. I mean… there’s not much sense in me just sitting around. I do wanna point out that the princess has asked that I find a pegasus to tutor me in weather control, so I can’t guarantee my availability, but I don't see why that couldn't be done either before or after.”

“What about flying?” Gale asks, looking over his wings.

“I’m good with flying. Far better than I should be. The whole ‘near perfect muscle control’ thing my talent gave me makes me a fantastic kinaesthetic learner.”

“How’s your magic coming along?”

“Great. It nearly tripled when all this happened. I’m almost caught up to Dawn. Runic casting isn’t a problem at all and I’ve started studying some theory and whatnot on direct shaping.”

“Impressive… damned impressive, Cure. Question, though,” she points at a line on the form, “Serpentus? Where’d that come from?”

“So apparently cutie marks can change when this happens,” he explains, turning to show them his new mark. “I dunno if the princess had some kind of feeling or if she just picked it outta thin air, but she suggested the name as an alias. I’m not sure if I’ll keep using it once I go public, eventually, or if I’ll just use my actual name.”

“It’s neat,” Dr. Care nods approvingly. “In several old myths, serpents were associated with medicine. I was once told the association between the two happened when snakes were credited with killing off disease-spreading vermin in keeps. I’m not sure I buy it, though… cats would have been far more effective, I would think.” She shrugs and adds, “Maybe they meant in fields instead.”

Cure scrunches his snout in thought, nodding in agreement. “Fields would make more sense. I would think keeps would be too cold, at least in food storage areas.” He looks to his parents and asks, “Have you ever heard that?”

“Nope. Never heard that one before,” his mom confesses. “I figured it had something to do with milking them for antivenom.”

“Can’t say I did, colt. Didn’t ya say snakes were tha sign of some ancient healer or somethin?”

“Yeah but I don’t know why. I figured somepony just used ‘em to be all mysterious and dramatic and stuff. Or they found one with a hallucinogenic venom and thought they were cured ‘cause they were so blitzed outta their minds they couldn’t feel pain.”

“A few cults have used them in rituals,” Dr. Care explains. “I don’t know if there was any real reason. They probably were doing it as much for the spectacle as anything.”

“Buncha tryhards,” Cure comments, nodding in understanding.

“Try… hards?” she slowly says, testing the word.

“Yeah, tryin too hard to be cool or edgy. They just end up bein pathetic.”

“Ah, I see.”

A knock at the door has Cure quickly changing his appearance back while his mom snatches the crown off his head.

“Ya got donut glaze on it, ya heifer,” the colt grumbles, earning a quick jab in the side from the mare.

Ivory Gale and Dr. Care watch in wonder as his wings seem to merge into his sides as his normal blue and green colors fade back in. The unicorn blinks a few times in shock when his horn seems to be yanked back at the base and disappears into his mane.

Once the colt finishes reverting to his normal look Gale calls out, “Come in!”

Nurse Gentle slowly opens the door and peeks in. As soon as it’s cracked open the wailing cries of a foal can be heard from behind her. “Sorry to interrupt! A young colt took a bad tumble and broke a bone in his leg. I was hoping Cure could come lend a hoof real quick.”

“Oof. Poor thing,” Gale sympathizes. “I think we’re done anyhow. Do you mind, Cure?”

“Nope, duty calls. Later ma, pa,” he calls, giving each a quick nuzzle. As he trots out the door past Nurse Gentle, Dr. Care hops up to come see him in action. Gale follows behind her out to the hall and down towards the exam room that the wailing is coming from.

The two stop at the door and watch as Cure finishes introducing himself over the younger colt’s crying. He doesn’t look like he could be over five and, despite the dam trying to calm him, is crying so hard he’s oblivious to everything going on around him.

The scan of the leg is pinned to the wall; it looks like a full break of the left foreleg radius just a little above the knee. Dr. Care knows that it would normally take six to eight weeks in a cast before the poor foal will be ready to resume normal activities. At least the break looks clean; there aren’t any visible shards and either they already set it or it just happened to realign itself after the injury.

With the dam’s blessing he walks up to the foal, raises up his right hoof and, in a comically slow motion, reaches forward and pokes him right on the snout with a loud, “Booooooop!” drawing the word out for several seconds and popping the ‘p’ at the end.

The move surprises the foal enough to get him to stop screaming and look at Cure in confusion.

“Your snoot has been booped.” He points at the colt’s seemingly healed leg and adds, “You’re completely better now, see?” Waving both forelegs in the air dramatically, he declares, “Behold the power of mine boopening!”

“What?” the colt asks as he tests the previously injured leg. “Dam! It’s not hurting!” he shouts, looking up to the relieved mare.

“Duh? I did boop you, ya know? Magical boops are my special talent, after all.” In a lecturing tone he slowly thrusts his hoof forwards, twisting it clockwise as he explains, “It’s all in the fetlock, ya gotta get the spin juuuust right.”

Dr. Care has to hold back a giggle as the colt scowls at Cure, then tries to boop him in return.

“My leg’s fine, though!” Cure whines, making little effort to dodge. By the time the foal lands a return boop he’s happily laughing, having already forgotten the terrible injury he had just minutes before.

Nurse Gentle lets the two play for only a moment before insisting the dam and colt follow her to get an updated scan, leaving Cure and the two mares behind.

“I couldn’t help but notice how quickly you were able to repair that, Cure.”

Gale nods in agreement. “It didn’t even take you ten seconds.”

The colt points at the scan and explains, “Well the bone was already all lined up and everything, so that made it pretty easy to patch it back together.” Demonstrating with his forehooves, Cure explains, “All I really had to do was encourage the body to fill in the gap to merge it back together, then fix up a little bruising.

“I’m guessing he fell and landed bad on a rock from the looks of it. There’s also the fact that I have way more throughput than I used to, even disguised. I numbed the pain and started fixing it as soon as his dam said to go ahead, the colt just didn’t realize it wasn’t hurting anymore till I gave ‘em a snoot boop,” he explains, once again demonstrating the maneuver.

“Huh. It makes me wonder what you’ll be able to do when you’re an adult. Raising the sun exhausted five strong unicorns…”

“She showed me.”

Gale tilts her head in confusion. “She… showed you how to move the sun? Already?”

“No, no, not that. She held me while she did it. It was wild. She didn’t outright say it, but I suspect it may not be safe for other ponies. The magic she used; it wasn’t unicorn magic. It was… something else.” He shakes his head, lost in thought over what he felt. “I dunno if it’ll be that way for me when it’s my own magic, but I could see getting lost in the feeling, honestly.”

“I’m a little jealous,” Gale admits.

“I’m a lot jealous,” Dr. Care agrees.

Cure shrugs in response. “Hopefully I’ll be able to let you both feel it someday. Remind me to ask her once my alicorn abilities start developing. It’ll be a while, apparently.”

“Hm. Well, we’d better take our leave,” Dr. Care says, looking towards the front of the building. “Let me know if the princess is okay with an examination and I’ll be in touch if we need to work out any details about your internship. Gale, you got anything?”

“No, I think I’m all set.” She takes a step closer to Cure and wraps him in a hug. “I’m super sad to lose you, Cure, but I think you’ll do a lot more good at the hospital.” As she separates she gives him a quick nuzzle. “I’ll be in touch when we get the paperwork together, okay?”

Author's Note

Woot! We're back with a shorter one today. I did manage to get some writing done this last week, but I can't really say I pulled ahead like I wanted to. I have through Ch. 70 done and 71 just barely started, though, so that's not too bad.

Enjoy, folks! And, as always, thanks for reading!

Chapter 67: Logistics

Sunday, May 10th, 909 AB (the next morning)

“Sir?”

Brick lowers his paper to look over the top at the servant, giving the stallion his undivided attention. The serving staff know he doesn’t like to be disturbed before he finishes his breakfast, so whatever prompted the interruption must be important. Either that or somepony hasn’t been paying attention.

“What is it, Corner?”

“Somepony to see you, sir. I… uhh, I’m sorry to interrupt but -”

“It’s Sunday morning!” Sabre scolds. “What’s so damned important this early on a weekend? Tell them to come back tomorrow.”

Measured Corner cringes, looking to Brick for help. No surprise there; Brick’s earned his reputation as a hardflank, but any married stallion knows it’s the mares you have to really watch out for. Of the three, Sabre has always been the more aggressive one by far.

“Honeybuns,” he gently calls, “it must be important or he wouldn’t have bothered us, right Corner?”

The chastised stallion nods vigorously, avoiding eye contact with the silver mare.

“Go ahead, sweetie,” Caramel gently encourages him. “Who is it?”

“Yes ma’am. I’m pretty sure it’s…. Uhh, well, him, sir,” he answers, motioning to the newspaper, “ma’am’s,” he quickly adds, ducking his head.

Furrowing his brow, Brick turns the paper around to the front page. Another article about the new princeling with the same picture again. Because more speculation and hearsay is super useful. At least the princess seems to be having quite the field day leading these reporters around by their snouts. He shows the picture to the wives, all of whom erupt in a round of gasps, then guesses as to the purpose of the visit.

“Shift’s at the gate this mornin, sir. Says the colt wasn’t there, then just… was,” Corner continues with a shrug. “Everypony on the street’s just walkin past ‘em like he ain’t, though. He insisted it’s an informal visit, sir. He was quite clear there’s no need for anything special. He… uhh… he asked if he could come in and have a glass of juice or maybe a donut, actually.”

Unable to hide the disbelief from his voice, Brick asks in a deadpan, “The alicorn that’s going to be crowned at the Summer Sun Celebration is outside asking if he can come in and have … breakfast?”

“Yes sir.”

He meets each of his wives’ eyes, all of whom have similar looks of disbelief. “Juice and a donut?” Vino repeats back.

“But… we only have some croissants,” Caramel laments, looking over the selection of rolls and jellies on the table. “Maybe I should scramble another egg?”

Corner shrugs, “Can’t say I know, ma’am. I ain’t seen nothin what says the kinda breakfast he likes, ma’am.”

“That’s a good point, Corner. You know how some ponies are with eggs,” Brick reminds them. “At the very least, I suppose we can spare a glass of juice and a croissant for his highness on this fine Sunday morning. Escort him and… is he alone?”

“He is, sir,” Corner confirms.

“Very well, please escort him in.”

“Yes sir. Right away, sir.” Corner turns on the spot, rushing out through the foyer towards the front door, leaving the husband and three wives sitting in stunned silence for a moment.

“Should we… move to the sitting room?” Caramel asks.

Sabre instantly dismisses the idea. “He wants breakfast, let him eat at the table. If he wanted a formal meeting he could have sent word ahead.”

Motioning towards the fridge, Brick asks Vino, “You have any fresh grape juice in there, love?”

“Of course not!” she snaps. “It’s way too early in the season for grape juice!”

He holds his hooves up in surrender and ducks his head in a conciliatory bow. “Just thought I’d ask…”

“I think we have orange and apple,” Caramel says, hopping up to dig in the refrigerator. She soon emerges with a carton of orange juice in hoof, opening it to give it a quick sniff test. “It’s still good!” she triumphantly calls.

“Bring the bottle of bubbly back too, Sweets,” Vino calls. “It’s feeling like that kind of day.”

Caramel grabs the sparkling wine, orange juice, and a glass. Carrying everything under her right foreleg, she trots back to the table. Vino doesn’t hesitate to make herself a day starter.

Just a moment after Vino finishes making her drink, Corner returns, leading an absurdly muscular light brown alicorn into the room. All eyes widen in shock at the colt, not only because he’s actually right there in their kitchen, but also because of the unique gold and brown coloration of his mane, tail, and wings.

Gold guards adorn his pasterns and a matching, emerald jeweled peytral hangs around his neck. His coat glistens with a golden sparkle that wasn’t visible in the pictures. The more angular wings and longer horn for his stature banish any lingering doubt from the family that a genuine alicorn is here to visit.

Corner stops just inside the kitchen to Brick’s left and, upon glancing back to the colt and getting a small nod of encouragement, snaps back forward and stands at attention. “Announcing his soon-to-be royal highness, Prince Serpentus!” He furrows his brow in thought and looks back to ask, “Is that right? I thought, you know, before you’re crowned, maybe another title is better?”

“How the hay would I know? I didn’t go to prince school. Princess Celestia didn’t give me any informational brochures or whatever. Besides, it’s not like I picked this stuff up at the flea market; she hoofed it all over herself, so close enough, ya know?”

“Oh. Yeah, that makes sense,” he admits in a slow nod.

“You’re kinda ruining the whole thing, dude. Wanna maybe hit it from the top, minus the whole, ‘Is this right?’ part?”

“Oh yeah. Sorry, sir!” Corner turns back towards the table and takes a deep breath, once again taking a formal, rigid stance. Brick and the three mares share another round of incredulous looks before turning back to face the entrance. “Announcing his-”

“Ya know what?” the colt interrupts, waving a hoof from side to side, “I think they got the gist of it by now, buddy.”

Corner looks back over this withers. “You sure? I can do the thing if ya want.”

“Nah. It’s all good. Thanks, but at this point it’s just getting kinda weird.”

“Oh. Sorry.”

“No, no! It’s not your fault, dude,” he insists in a conciliatory tone. He scrunches his snout in thought and admits, “I’m probably not even supposed ta be all gussied up like this anyhow, at least not till after the ‘ol S S C. Don’t need ta go ‘round confusin ponies and whatnot, amirite?”

“Yeah, I guess.”

“I’ll tell ya what, next time I come to visit I’ll actually have my crown and we’ll do the whole setup again all official-like. Maybe we can get ya a little trumpet or something and a big fancy hat. Can’t be presentin highnesses without a fancy hat, after all, right?”

“I don’t play the trumpet,” Corner admits, hanging his head in shame he adds, “or anything else.”

That causes the colt to pause in thought for a beat. “Well… there’s always time to learn! Ladies love a stallion that knows a musical instrument.”

“Yeah?”

Brick looks at his wives again and waves a hoof, mouthing “what the fuck?” and getting three shrugs in response.

“You bet, champ. The trumpet’s a good one too. Great for the lungs and I bet some of them lip exercises ya hafta work on are good for other applications too, if ya know what I mean,” he says, waggling his brows.

Corner doesn’t seem to connect the dots; he just stares in confusion at the short colt.

“Don’t worry, it’ll come to ya. Probably at three in the morning.” The eye roll is audible from the tone alone.

“Oh I hate when that happens!”

“Right? It’s like, ‘Thanks, brain, I didn’t need another four hours of sleep. That idea finally clicking is totally worth being tired all day!’”

Corner nods, enthusiastically agreeing with the colt. “Yeah, why can’t that happen at three in the afternoon?!”

“One of life’s mysteries, my stallion.”

The two share a commiserating sigh before Corner turns back to the room and finds four sets of eyes staring at him in annoyance. “I should go. Nice meeting you, sir!” he calls, rushing back out towards the front.

“Later dude!” the colt shouts, watching as the stallion disappears out the front of the house. He turns back to the curious faces and motions to his horn. “Do you mind if I cast a privacy spell?”

“Not at all, your highness,” Caramel responds. The colt all but sighs at the title. Brick can sympathize; even being addressed as ‘sir’ took some getting used to. He can’t fathom going from no title at all to, essentially, the highest in the land.

The room outside their little bubble blurs and the sound of birdsong abruptly cuts off. The mares look around slightly bewildered, but Brick recognizes the spell from his days in the Guard.

“Ugh, finally,” the colt mumbles. He clears his throat and smiles broadly. He waves a wing in greeting and, in a much more familiar voice, calls out, “’Mornin grandpa, grandma’s! You’ll never guess what I did!”

A beat of silence passes. The sharp intakes of air and one slightly less surprised look are the initial response; Brick being the one to break the silence. “I had wondered…” he confesses. The statement causes the grandmothers to whip their heads in his direction, giving the stallion a combination of annoyed and curious stares.

“Yeah, I figured Uncle Lucky said something to ya. Given the timing of the incident and whatnot I’m pretty sure they put two ‘n two together as soon as they saw the papers.” He glances back out into the hall and points a wing at the closet. “Mind if I grab a booster?” he asks. At the “be my guest” motion Cure slides open the hall closet, floats out the booster, shuts the door, and sets it on Caramel’s right between her and Brick.

“Are your parents not with you?” Caramel asks as the four watch on in shock at the ease with which he’s using his new abilities. He no more than hops up on the seat before Caramel has a glass of orange juice poured, a plate with a croissant set in front of him, and a foreleg wrapped around him, snuggling the colt against her side. He laps up the physical attention, careful to give his great granddam a loving nuzzle without poking her with his horn.

“Nah, I told ‘em where I was going and I can keep in communication with them by using the Sending spell.”

“But… somepony just tried to foalnap you!” she cries.

“Yeah, and I took all twenty six of ‘em out by myself. Easily. Don’t worry, granddam,” he says, nuzzling her again, “I’m way more prepared for trouble than you could ever imagine.”

“If you say so…” she slowly concedes, unwilling to further push the issue.

“How?” Brick asks.

“Airborne and intravenous sedatives. I can directly transmute living material inside another creature.”

Brick’s eyes widen before it dawns on him, “Ah… you would have to in order to be able to heal, I’m guessing.”

“Exactly. Healing is just how I use my talent anyhow. I’m a full blown biomanipulator, grandpa, and I don’t even know what all impact this,” he waves his right wing, “will have on my talent. The princess said it’ll be a while before I start developing my abilities as an alicorn.”

Sabre, finally out of patience, waves a hoof at the colt nearly shouting, “What the hay did you do to yourself, Cure?!”

“Oh it wasn’t intentional, grandma. It turns out that if you do enough crazy shit -” Caramel shoots him a weak glare while giving him a firm squeeze, “err, sorry granddam. If you do enough crazy stuff with your talent to help ponies or, I dunno, basically ‘take it to the next level’ while doing objectively good things, apparently Harmony itself is all like, ‘Not bad, colt, have some extra body parts on the house,’ or something,” he explains, finishing with an unsure shrug.

“Not that it was completely free, mind you. I had ten grand worth’a crystals on me that went kaboom when I exploded. They didn’t even leave the dust behind!” He tilts his head in thought and adds, “To be fair, it’s not like Cure salsa painted the area either, thank the stars. A good trade, overall, I guess. Nopony wants ta spend all morning cleaning up colt chunks blasted all over the place. I’d just had breakfast too, so it woulda been a real mess there.”

As he’s talking he uses his horn to spread some strawberry jelly on his croissant, then, once done with his blunt statement, hums in delight while taking a big bite. He levitates the orange juice over, grabs it in his hoof, and takes a long draw before setting it down and licking his lips, wiggling back and forth in his seat happily as the grandparents all look on a little queasy.

He points a hoof at Vino’s glass and asks, “Mimosa?” All four glance at the drink in question before giving him looks of confusion. “OJ and bubbly, right? That’s what I thought those were called.”

“Mimosa,” Vino repeats, tasting the word. “I like it! It sounds exotic.”

“You should try it with some rum, cherry, and pineapple juice mixed in, grandma. That right there’s the breakfast ‘a champions if ya ask me,” he suggests, smacking his lips at the idea.

“That does sound good,” she agrees. Turning to her left she asks her wife, “Do we already have a shopping list started somewhere?”

Sabre shrugs, looking somewhat at a loss at the strange direction the conversation went in.

Vino huffs, rolling her eyes at the silver mare. “Never mind. I’ll send somepony out to fetch some later.”

“Forget the damn drink!” Sabre shouts, turning back to the colt. “What do you mean you exploded?” She pauses and gives him another up-down look and adds, “You seem fine to me.”

“Twas but a flesh wound,” he answers in a high pitched, nasally voice, snickering at some private joke. “I don’t think I really exploded, but that’s what it looked like to my parents and all my friends. A big, white flash and something like a thunder crack.

“Close enough, I guess. The boss lady had just pulled a prank on me, settin me up to get cr… err, get hit by a bunch of pie tins filled with whipped cream. Apparently I blasted a bunch back at her in the process,” he finishes, chuckling in amusement.

“And she wasn’t upset?” she asks.

Eyebrows hiked, he asks, “Have ya ever met her?”

“No,” she confesses. “She was at a few Officers’ Balls we attended, but I didn’t speak to her myself.”

“Supposedly,” Brick interjects, “she enjoys a good prank as much as anypony. My interactions with her were always strictly professional,” he explains.

“She’s not like you’d expect from some noble. She’s, for all intents and purposes, just like anypony else. Just older and more powerful. And taller. Believe me, if anything she was ecstatic that there’s another alicorn now. You’ll get ta meet her if ya want; that’s actually one of the reasons I came here today. You got plans for the Celebration? I wanted to invite everypony if y’all are interested.”

“Not that I’m aware of,” Brick answers, looking at his wives for confirmation.

Vino leans to her left towards Sabre, resting a hoof on her shoulder. “Weren’t the Clovers throwing a party at their estate this year?”

“Supposedly,” she answers with a shrug. “I heard their youngest granddaughter is finally pregnant and they wanted to celebrate.”

Caramel gives Cure another soft squeeze and overrules any previous plans the family might have had. “We would be absolutely thrilled if we could attend your coronation, Cure.” Scowling at her wives she curtly adds, “The Clovers can make do without us,” before softening her tone and looking down at him, “if you’ll have us.”

“Sweet! I’ll get in touch with the rail company and see if we can get a few cars this time. One was pretty crowded with me, my folks, and all the other foals. I’ll be traveling to the capital a week or so ahead of time to help with the births but there’s no reason for everypony else to go early.”

Brick waves off the concern, shaking his head at the suggestion. “Don’t you worry about a thing, son. I’ll make arrangements for all of us. Or I’ll check with Countess Evergreen. She’ll certainly be attending; presumably her office would coordinate logistics with the princess’ ponies, so your transportation, as well as anypony you invite, should be taken care of.”

Cure looks completely baffled at the suggestion. “The princess didn’t tell me all that. Should I reach out to the mayor of Golden Hills instead? I guess I figured I would have to arrange my own transport and stuff.” He pauses in thought, looking up at nothing, “Ya know, sayin it out loud… that sounds kinda dumb.”

“No, Cure,” Sabre cuts in. “Royal matters are not tended to by barons. Baroness Wheatfield would be reaching beyond her station, even if you do live in her city. Besides, the rail line to the capital originates here.”

“Exactly,” Brick agrees. “I would expect somepony from either Countess Evergreen’s office or, maybe even Marquis Merryland to be in contact to organize everything.”

“I’ve heard the name, but I don’t know anything else about the marquis,” he says with a shrug.

“He’s responsible for overseeing Baltimare, Fillydelphia, and Hollow Shades,” Sabre explains.

“Bitsburg and Sire’s Hollow too,” Brick adds. “Fillydelphia is where he lives, though. Do you know if the princess has told anypony who you are?”

“Only Captain Stance, as far as I know. My identity is being kept under wraps until I’m older.”

“A wise choice. Are you okay with the mayor knowing we’re related?”

“Sure, as long as she’s made aware that, per the princess, that information is not to be shared beyond ponies that need to know. I think the pony runnin the city probably counts. Ugh… I’m probably going to need somepony that knows who I really am just to take messages for ‘Prince Serpentus’ or whatever.”

“I have ponies I can trust to be that filter, Cure. I’ll coordinate everything if you’re okay with that. Just let me know. As for arranging the travel, I’m betting the princess has already dispatched instruction to… well, one of them. Sometimes it just takes a moment for the cogs to start turning.”

Brick pauses in thought and shakes his head, taking a deep breath and blowing out a sigh. “My great grandson… an alicorn prince. I should have seen this coming when you started deaging ponies.”

“We’re all very proud of you, Cure,” his granddam insists, snuggling the colt into her side again. The other three are quick to agree, making him internally cringe. It’s nice to hear, but at the same time the constant praise and thanks makes him uncomfortable.

“Thanks everypony. This is just the start, though. There’s lots more to do.”

“Well said, Cure. We’ll need to see if lodging is available. Even if transportation is being addressed I’m sure everything in the city is booked up.”

“I could reach out to Prince Blueblood, maybe?” Cure suggests drawing curious looks from the group.

“Never met him,” Brick responds. “I’ve heard the stories, though. Supposedly his guard detail is where you end up when you p…” Caramel scowls at the stallion, “tick off Captain Shield enough.”

“He didn’t make the best impression, at least initially,” Cure admits. “He heard the rumors of an alicorn colt running around the castle, so he showed up with his son, wife, and two daughters while the princess was working with me on magic stuff.”

“A coronation and a wedding?” Vino teases, earning a hard look from Caramel.

“Afraid not, grandma. He became decidedly less interested when I pointed out I was an earth pony. It’s not like my foals will be alicorns; they’ll be whatever tribe their dam is. Regardless, when he showed up I mentioned maybe buying a second house in the city next year. His wife mentioned they have several spare houses in the city, many of which they never use.”

“Guest homes?” Brick asks.

“Yep. He offered to house me and my family while we’re in town. I’ll probably be stayin at the palace while I’m there helpin with the births, but I bet you could hang out there. I’m not sure if that would count as owing him a favor or whatever, but I can deal with that.”

“That sounds wonderful, honey!” Caramel cheers, hugging the colt to her side again. “Just let us know if that won’t work out. We could always stay the night in Detrot; it’s not a long train ride to Canterlot from there and I’m sure they’ll have extra trains going with all the ponies attending.”

“Okay. I’ll check with the princess when I meet with her tonight. She may just let y’all have a room at the castle. She’s got dozens of ‘em.” The mention of meeting her tonight gets surprised looks from everypony until he clarifies. “It’s an alicorn thing. She won’t actually be here. The plan is for me to talk to her every weekend. She probably has some updates on the whole foalnapping thing anyhow.”

“Hrn,” Brick grunts in obvious agitation. “You let me know anything you hear, son. I’d like a run down on that whole situation before you leave if you have time.”

“Sure thing, grandpa. I wanted to talk to you about something slightly related to that, actually.”

“What is it, son? Got a suspect?” Cure can’t help but catch the hint of malice that flashes across the stallion’s face. The furrowed brow, involuntary flexing of the pectorals, and setting of the jaw on both he and Grandma Sabre promise violence as thoroughly as a loudly racked shotgun. Even Grandma Vino pauses mid-sip to listen intently and his granddam hugs him all the tighter.

“No, unfortunately. None that aren’t in her majesty’s custody, at least.” The tension, brief as it was, ebbs back as Cure continues, “With my talent I’m probably about as dangerous as a pony can be, but inevitability at some point, somehow, I’ll come across something that magic won’t work on.”

“I see. That’s possible; a sharp spear is a lot more effective on a dragon than most spells.”

“Exactly. One of the Wonderbolt performances was an aerial melee demonstration. I was wondering if your security teams have a trainer for that or if you could recommend one for me and the pegasi fillies I hang out with.”

“Oh goodness,” Caramel mumbles, “a unicorn and now pegasi? How many little fillies are chasing you, Cure?”

“Somewhere between five and seven. Two are maybes, honestly. One is more likely than the other, so probably six.”

All three grandmothers gush excitedly over the news while Brick quietly prays, “Maker help him,” under his breath. Focusing back on the question, he explains, “Our trainer teaches primarily defensive group tactics and de-escalation. Security work involved less fighting than most ponies assume. I can get some names for competent pegasi defense instructors, though. If it’s something you enjoy, maybe I can reach out to an old friend of mine.”

“Couldn’t you just ask the princess to have a Guard trainer?” Sabre asks. “They certainly have plenty down at Fort Meadow.”

“A good point,” Brick agrees. “Colonel Muster would likely leap at the opportunity to have one of her captains train the new prince. In the meantime maybe see if there’s any classes locally. I’m pretty sure they do one for pegasi at least.”

“Huh… I didn’t even think about that. Maybe I’ll check into that and see if I can take a few classes in Canterlot eventually. Wind Shear, the less likely maybe, wanted to take something too. I think her younger sister will want in on it also, so it would be nice to find something to do with them until next year when I go to CSGU.”

“You’re moving to Canterlot?” Vino asks.

“The tentative plan, for now, is for me to take classes, supplement that with lessons from the princess, and fly home on the weekends. I can fly higher, faster, and without stopping compared to any pegasus, so it’s a much quicker trip than you’d think.”

“I hadn’t considered that,” Brick mumbles. “You may need a specialized trainer to get the most out of it. Pegasi will train for you to fight like a pegasus,” he says, reaching over to prod Cure’s wing. “Your flight mechanics are different, not to mention how strong you will be compared to them. The princess herself may be about the only pony that knows how to fight in the air like an alicorn, or take full advantage of those when you’re on the ground.”

“True, but she strikes me as much more of a caster than a brawler.”

“Me too,” the stallion agrees. “It may be up to you to find a style that takes advantage of both.”

“Another thing to ask the boss about,” he sighs. “Oh well. So, do you all have about an hour or so free? The whole coronation thing isn’t the only reason I came. I was thinking maybe you all would want to get the new and improved deaging treatment.”

“New and improved treatment?” Sabre asks. “Did you figure out the real thing?”

“Yep. It turns out alicorns are a tad more magically powerful than an earth pony. Who’da thunk it, right?”

“Howdy, boss,” Cure greets as the princess seemingly emerges from a cloudbank.

“Good evening, Cure.” She makes her way closer and lays on her barrel, him copying the position a moment later. “Before anything else, please do not tease me about bugs in my bed ever again.”

“Bugs in your bed?” he asks, cocking his head to the side. “What the hay are you talking about?”

“You said not to let the bed bugs bite when last we parted. I was concerned that perhaps you were pulling some kind of prank.”

“Oh! No, that’s just a saying. It means sleep well. I think,” he offers with a shrug.

“One I have not heard before,” she explains. “Needless to say, my bed was thoroughly examined.”

A barked “HA!” escapes his lips before he manages to catch himself. Smiling at the scowling mare he quickly apologizes. “My bad, princess. I may pull a prank here and there, but I don’t see me ever doin somethin like that. There is a parasitic bug called a bed bug, but I didn’t see any in Canterlot.”

“Good,” she nods approvingly. “I have fantastic news.”

“Oh? Did Green Slip… slip up?”

Celestia pinches her eyes shut and lets out a disappointed sigh. Cure waits eagerly with a growing smile, lightly snickering at her expression far more than the joke itself. “Horrible puns aside, yes.

“He had his attorney reach out to an associate when he learned he would be released. The friend brought him enough money to flee the city despite the conditions of his release stipulating he was not allowed to. He wasted no time making his way to the train station, unaware he was being followed.”

“Really? Awesome! He went straight to ‘em then?”

“Not exactly. My fears of him eluding pursuers were well founded. If your scent marker was not so effective he very well may have. Fortunately, despite his best efforts, he was followed by Lt. Spear to the company headquarters in Detrot. Upon his arrival he began arguing with the receptionist, then was nearly thrown out by security.

“At first the lieutenant thought perhaps he detected her and led her on a false trail, but the mare in charge of their security showed up and escorted him to a conference room. Moments later he was joined by several of the company executives. As he had violated the terms of his release and was observed entering the building, no warrant was needed to conduct a raid. They were still in the conference room when Guard units arrived.”

“Wow. I hadn’t even considered that. Did you plan that out?”

“I would like to say yes, but I did not. Fortune smiled upon us when he left the city. We would be remiss if we failed to capitalize on such convenient circumstances. I would take credit for the foresight to issue Lt. Spear a royal commission, but that’s just something you do when you are sending somepony across typical jurisdictional lines. That granted her authority over any guard units she may have needed to commandeer to conduct a successful operation.”

“Still, good call, boss. You keep this up and I’m totally pushing for a six percent raise instead of just four.”

“Well I’m afraid the news isn’t all good, so perhaps hold off until we’re done before you commit too much.”

“Oh… kay.” Cure takes a good look at the princess. With such good news he had expected her to be more enthusiastic, but it was delivered more like a doctor giving a prognosis.

She continues, “One of the executives arrived while guards were removing copies of the company’s financial records. She allegedly was opposed to doing anything about you from the start. According to her, she stated such when the information of your existence was first brought up during a meeting in December. As a result she was excluded from future discussions, including the one where hiring Green Slip’s crew was proposed.

“She suspected the others were moving forward without keeping her informed so she kept copies of any evidence she had up to that point. When nothing happened for several months she assumed they let the matter drop.

“She was quite eager to share everything she had saved, little as it may have been, in order to exonerate herself. One item she saved is a copy of the letter where somepony reached out to them and, apparently, several other potential buyers regarding a pony that would, ‘put them out of business.’”

“So this pony… she? He?” at her nod he continues, “he sent letters to companies to… what? Try to arrange a meeting?”

“Yes. He hoofwrote them himself. He even took them to the post office in pony. His behavior, overall, was quite amateurish. It is a wonder not a single one of the recipients hoofed the letters over to their local Guard commander. Or, given their actions after, simply foalnapped him to extract the information. I can only assume most dismissed the proposition as ridiculous. The contents of the correspondence would not have moved many to action, but those few who responded…”

“Came after me.”

“At least a couple did, yes. We still do not know who stole your trees, but it was likely the other company that responded to his letter. He insists he had no contact with the zebras and only a few sales, so we’re still not sure who reached out to them, if anypony did. It is possible they determined you to be a threat purely based off of the healing occurring in Baltimare and from witnessing your capabilities at your own business.”

“So he sold to the ones that hired Green Slip and the other that sent the thief?”

“Presumably. We have no way of knowing. He did not keep records of who bought the information. He told them about your trees, told them of your work with the local guard unit, and gave your name in exchange for a paltry sum.”

“Like… five, ten grand?”

“Far less than that, total. Which is likely why they chose to simply pay what he requested.”

“Seriously?! How much?”

“Between the two sales, thirteen hundred bits.”

Cure throws his forehooves in the air and yells, “Come on! Thirteen hundred bits?! That’s less than we paid for our new furniture! I probably would have paid him several times that amount as a reward for warning me!”

“Funny you should mention furniture. He used the money to remodel his den and buy a billiards table,” she offers with a shrug.

“What a prick! I don't know why, but I think I would feel better if he got like… I dunno, a few grand from it, at least.”

“I believe Corporal Strike was correct; your definition of a lot of money is quite a bit different than most. Regardless, he clearly put less value on your family’s safety than you do,” she dryly remarks.

“I guess. So this dude’s in it up to his ears, I’m guessing?”

“Oh yes, absolutely. He will face the same punishment as Green Slip and the others. Whatever form that takes will be for the judge to decide. Again, they are all lucky that no harm came to anypony. If you had been forced to defend yourself more violently then they would have been held responsible for any casualties, even ones you inflicted upon them.”

“Yeah, they’re really lucky I didn’t call Arcane down on them. I’m not sure the train would have survived, though.”

“Indeed. Artillery battlemages are great on a battlefield. They need different training to be effective in close quarters, otherwise collateral damage is a significant concern.”

“Will I need to testify? I’m worried they may ask how I did what I did.”

“No. The statement you gave to myself and my officers is more than adequate. The redacted version can serve as your testimony. Corporal Strike can act as a witness and as the arresting guard as well, though he will be able to decline answering anything considered confidential. The judge can request access but I will only grant it should there be a good argument why he or she needs to know something not in the redacted version, which I do not anticipate.”

“Eh, fair. I’m guessing judges should know how to treat confidential material.”

“Absolutely.”

“Good. Besides, if the judge finds out their target is the new alicorn then, if anything, I would assume that would probably make things worse for them.”

“I’m not so sure. Judges are, after all, supposed to remain as impartial as possible. It’s possible, but ideally any victim, regardless of tribe or even if they are not a pony, should expect the same treatment under the law. There are some ponies such as nobles and royals who, if targeted, will result in additional charges, but the presiding judge is still expected to conduct themselves professionally.”

“That's fair, I guess. If that’s really how it all works then you should be proud of the system you’ve set up.”

“I am.” The mare frowns as she says, “And here is the part where I must apologize to you, Cure.”

Tilting his head in confusion, Cure regards the princess. “For what?”

“For my part, little as it may be, in the entire affair.”

A look of realization crosses his face. “It was that officer, wasn’t it? No wonder you weren’t happier about delivering such good news.”

“Inadvertently and indirectly, yes,” she answers with a nod. Scowling, she adds, “One of my own is ultimately responsible, and in the most disappointing and foolish way possible.”

“How?”

“The officer became slightly inebriated while meeting with the relative I had previously mentioned. In public. At a restaurant.”

“And let it slip that a colt out there is going to hurt their business.”

“Yes. Their conversation was decidedly less private than they likely expected. Your antiviral tree, along with the weekly training sessions with Sgt. Bulwark’s squad were mentioned. The stallion that sent the letters overheard her, then later observed you headed to Base Carol. After seeing you he was able to determine your identity. Apparently it was not difficult, given you operate your business under your real name.”

“So your officer got drunk, blabbed about me and my trees, and this jerk just happened to be there, overheard their conversation, tracked me down, and got the bright idea to sell my info to any pharmaceutical company that would listen?”

Celestia takes a deep breath and sighs while nodding. “A single inappropriate conversation nearly cost you everything. Your life, your family, your ascension… all the lives that will be better because of your continued well-being. All jeopardized by a fool meeting with her sister getting inebriated on cheap wine. I truthfully do not know how much was consumed, nor does it ultimately matter. I cannot begin to adequately apologize for the conduct of my officer, Cure.”

Scoffing, he waves the issue away. “Did you give them the wine?”

“In a way. At least some of it was purchased with money that came from my coffers.”

“Change your procedures then. Remove identifying information from reports for anypony that doesn’t need to know.”

A beat passes. Celestia slightly wilts.

“The officer needed to know for some reason.”

She gives a small nod.

“It’s somepony in Baltimare.”

She answers the statement with another nod.

“Then they made the very poor choice to drink and disclose confidential… it was confidential, right?”

“Not exactly confidential, no. Restricted, but that’s not the same. At the time of the disclosure your information was available to anypony at or above the rank of sergeant in the Baltimare region. Initially there was no reason to limit its distribution. Now only Captain Stance herself has the authority to approve anypony viewing your file, and every individual that does so is recorded.”

“Her lieutenant doesn’t?”

Celestia’s wings sag more at the question.

“It was her lieutenant, wasn’t it?”

“It… was.”

“Wow. The freaking second in command of the entire city is responsible for almost getting an alicorn colt foalnapped and, likely, murdered. That’s quite the accomplishment to have on your resume. And yet, the only thing she’s guilty of… she, right?”

“Yes. And your line of thought is correct; the most serious offense that can be charged, given the circumstances at the time, is conduct unbecoming an officer.”

“What’s the penalty for that?”

“If found guilty? Dismissal and potentially six months imprisonment, at most.”

Cure waits for her to continue. She just stares at him.

“That’s it?”

“Yes. That is the maximum penalty, given the circumstances. As nopony actually suffered any harm the options for prosecution are severely limited.”

“That’s cow manure! Her idiocy could have gotten me killed!”

“And what would you have me do to the mare? It’s only due to the broad scope of the charge that she faces more than a formal reprimand. In all likelihood that is what the disciplinary board will recommend anyhow. She has served for fifteen years without incident until now.”

“She disclosed my information to somepony that stood to gain from my death. You said it yourself; aiding and abetting.”

“And yet there is no indication that the sister’s employer was even informed of the conversation. The mare nearly fainted in worry when they showed up at her door to question her. Recall, if you will, to be charged with a crime one must expect or should have expected the result of their actions to result in a crime. The seller’s actions meet that criteria. Hers do not.

“Another hurdle to prosecution would be the fact that you, yourself, told every family member of all your friends the same thing she shared. Granted you did so months later, but you also disclosed far more in the way of details.”

“That was a private party! And it was my information to disclose!”

“It may have been, but it took place in a public restaurant. With no security and in a location where anypony could have overheard everything you said.”

“But…” he trails off, trying to think of an argument and coming up empty.

Celestia continues despite his interruption. “If anypony had been seriously harmed as a result of her actions then she could have faced involuntary mareslaughter charges. I certainly prefer this outcome, but given that no actual harm was done…” she trails off in a shrug. “I know it is little comfort, but as a result of the charge, even if it goes nowhere, the lieutenant’s career is, essentially, over. This will be in her file no matter what and she will have to bear the shame of her mistake for the rest of her life.”

“My heart weeps for her, princess, truly. I could have died, but she’s, basically, being told ‘naughty, naughty!’ Fair trade.”

“I understand your frustration, Cure. Truly, I do. I know I am asking a lot from you, but please try not to fixate on this. Instead, look at the positives here. The zebras are no longer a threat to you, we have determined who hired the mercenaries, we have the information broker in custody, and we know how your identity was leaked in the first place.

“Aside from your missing trees, everything has been resolved. If any further action is taken against you, not only would they face typical charges, but also potentially high treason.”

Cure releases a sigh, begrudgingly nodding in agreement. “I… will move on from this. I would ask that the lieutenant be kept as far away from me as possible. I won’t seek vengeance, but I can’t promise I wouldn’t do something regrettable if she were right in front of me. At least for now.”

“That is fair. As I said, she is being reassigned. As little comfort as it may be, she expressed immense regret for her part in this.”

“I… I don’t want to sound like I’m angry with you, but… I don’t want to hear any more about her. She can just go away. Forever, hopefully.”

“I understand. I know you are upset. I have had to deliver unpleasant news many, many times. You are taking this far better than I suspect many would.”

“Well what am I supposed to do? Demand her blood? Scream and start throwing things?” He waves around at the empty space of the astral plane. “There ain’t much ta toss around in here, boss.”

“It has been my experience that many take their anger out on the messenger,” she calmly explains.

“Yeah,” he argues back, “and exactly how many ponies have cussed you out and tossed ya outta their houses?”

“You would be amazed. Hundreds, possibly thousands. I try not to think back to those days often. There were some battles early on where less survived than did not. Always making it through with, as far as they could see, few or no injuries… many a widowed spouse threw far more than insults when I delivered bad news.”

The response instantly dumps water over any simmering anger the colt has. “Damn. Well… you sure know how to take the wind outta my sails, lady.”

“I’m sorry, Cure. Did you… want to be angry with me?”

Sighing, Cure shakes his head no. He stands, walks over to the princess, nuzzles into her chest, rears up, and wraps his forelegs around her neck in a hug, pressing his neck against the left side of hers.

“Help,” she calmly calls to nopony in a flat tone, “He’s trying to strangle me.”

“It’s going to be a really slow death, boss. Feel free to beg for mercy.” He pauses a beat. “Ya know, whenever.”

“Certainly,” she agrees, wrapping her left wing behind his back to pull him tighter. “Here, let me help speed things along.”

“I’ve heard about ponies that are inta that kinda stuff, ya weirdo. That ain’t my kink, FYI.”

“Cure,” she sighs. “I do not want or need to hear about any kinks you may or may not have. You are ruining a perfectly good hug.”

“I bet that would get me more than six months in the slammer,” he lightly grumbles.

“As well it should. Ruining hugs is a severe crime, young colt. Between your attempted regicide and misdeeds at the zoo I am beginning to detect a budding criminal’s pattern.” Celestia notes the colt minutely tenses at the mention of the zoo. “Unusual magic was detected and a blue colt, green and pink mares, and a dark stallion were seen leaving just as guard units arrived. It did not take a master sleuth to piece that one together.”

“You can’t prove nothin!” he quietly exclaims.

“A magical imprint was detected in the spiders at the scene. I had the analysis removed from the file, but I wonder who that signature would belong to.”

“Ah. Well.” He pauses for a moment. “Shit.”

“Mmhmm. Community service would be the normal punishment. Perhaps a fine. Given that you started volunteering shortly thereafter,” she trails off with a shrug. “Are there any other… mischievous hijinks I need to be aware of?”

“Nothin there’s a report for,” he immediately replies. Withering under her patient stare, he answers, “No. I think that’s the only time I had yer guards called on me, but there’s a silver pegasus filly I need to apologize to in regards to that. Dark blue mane, wing cutie mark. I don’t suppose her name is in the report?”

“It is. I would give you her information, but disclosing the contents of Guard documents is a serious offense. I need this job, Cure. I can’t afford to get tossed in prison for six months and it’s been a long time since I’ve tried my hoof at farming.” Cure leans away and meets her teasing gaze with a scowl. “Too soon?” she asks, looking slightly abashed.

“Maybe a little,” he answers with a slow nod.

“Evening Whisp. Sgt. Bulwark can provide you with her address. Just note, that’s W-H-I-S-P, not the typical spelling.”

“Alright. Thanks, boss. I’ll be sure to make it right before the ceremony.”

“Please do.”

Cure releases her from the hug, sliding down her chest until he’s curled between her forelegs as she folds her wing back. “It may be best to not cover that up, princess. Maybe instead of hiding my magic signature just put a note in that the culprit is a foal and that they performed community service after approaching the crown.”

She hums in thought before nodding. “That is not a bad idea. I will get it taken care of.”

“Good deal. So, moving on from all that fun stuff,” he says, getting a scoff from the princess, “I need to know if there’s already plans in motion regarding logistics for my coronation. I’m lookin at forty, fifty ponies if my friends, their families, and my family are all coming.

“I’ll have to check with them to find out, but that’s a lot of ponies to move, potentially. Grandpa Brick said you probably have already sent something to the mayor of Baltimare, but nopony has reached out to me yet.”

“Notice was sent to both Marquis Merryland and to Countess Evergreen. If you do not hear from either before the end of the week then let me know.”

“Sure. Just an FYI, Grandpa Brick has offered to serve as a point of contact for Prince Serpentus. He knows I’m trying to lay low for now. I do need some kind of public ‘send mail here’ address, I suppose.”

“I was going to have everything sent here to the castle to be filtered first, then delivered to Countess Evergreen’s offices in Baltimare. It was one of the things I wanted to bring up with you tonight.”

“I’ll let grandpa know. He’ll probably have somepony go pick it up from her office. Am I already getting fan mail?”

“We have received several inquiries as to whether you are currently searching for a prospective mate.”

“Geez, already?”

“Indeed. Over a dozen just from within the capital before the end of the week.”

“Damn. Can’t say I blame them, though. If they’re under the impression my foals will be alicorns I could see why. Having a bunch of unaging grandfoals is a heck of a way to secure your legacy.”

“Exactly. Regardless, we are filtering those out, but the rest can be sent on for you and your grandsire to review.”

“Sounds good. Thanks, princess. I’m honestly surprised you haven’t gotten any studding contract offers.” The statement causes the mare to freeze for the tiniest fraction of a second. Cure’s head whips up to meet her gaze with a slowly widening smile. “How much?”

“No.”

“Duh. I’m just curious.”

“Cure Wave!”

“You have to tell me. I checked. Interfering with studding contract delivery is a crime.”

“Not when it’s for a foal!”

“Actually, I don’t think there was an age requirement for that part. Granted the contract can’t be…” he smirks, waggling his brows and deepening his voice before breathily saying, “fulfilled,” he has to stop mid-sentence to laugh at the disturbed cringe she gives.

Celestia lifts her right foreleg and drops it on him, smushing from his withers, up his neck, and down his face, curling her fetlock around his horn. She leaves it there for several seconds, closing her eyes and letting out a deep sigh while the colt cackles in glee underneath her. “I may have preferred remaining ignorant of your true nature,” she flatly comments.

“So how much? Seriously, I’m just curious.”

“Fine!” she huffs. In a dismissive tone she answers, “The offer was only for two hundred anyhow.”

“No it waaaaaassn’t,” he immediately counters in a sing-song.

She slowly looks down at the colt, moving her leg out of the way to meet his eyes. “Are you calling your princess a liar, Cure?” she nearly accuses.

“Nope!” he exclaims, popping the p. Smiling broadly he leans to his right and pokes at her chin with his left wing primaries. “You’re doing what I would do. What I always do. Telling the truth in a way that’s obscuring the real truth. It was for two hundred grand, wasn’t it?”

“Damnit,” she grumbles, turning to look away.

“Jeez, that’s more than I make in a whole quarter. Who the hay has that much cash to throw around?”

“Many wealthy families. Unfortunately for you, the contract requires the conceived foal to be an alicorn.”

“Ah. Well that ain’t happenin. At least, not a real alicorn.” Not unless you’re the one issuing it, he thinks but wisely does not say. “Besides, that kinda changes the situation; two hundred grand for an alicorn foal seems like a bargain instead.”

“I suspect the goal is to have a foal by you regardless of its tribe. It is not a terribly subtle attempt. That, as far as we know, your foals will be the same tribe as their dam has already been theorized aloud. It is, after all, how it normally works.”

“Yeah, and unless some metaphysical weirdness happens that’s what I would expect as well. I almost kind of wonder if an alicorn foal, assuming it could be conceived, would harm its dam.”

“By… placing too much strain on her body?”

“Not her physical body. I could ensure she would live through that. I mean whatever metaphysical drain would happen. I don’t know if research has been done on that, but one would assume whatever spark either comes from the dam or maybe, from the initial… uhh… joining,” he finishes, pantomiming the act by pressing his forehooves together.

“It is the latter,” she answers. “Significant research was done, as a matter of fact.” More softly she explains, “I funded much of it myself.”

The statement stabs Cure right in the feels, as it takes a conscious act to force his ears not to wilt in empathy for the struggles the mare has gone through. Cognizant of his emotions, she carries on. “It is believed that this is why foals of married, devoted parents tend to have better health and, initially, magical strength.

“If your ‘Colt Trees’ are successful, initial results of which seem very promising, then the overall health and wellness of future generations should be better than we’ve ever seen. Reducing the need for hired studs and increasing the number of happily married parents will make a huge difference.”

“I bet. They’re testing those already?”

“Absolutely, Cure. The Origin, Blood, and Antiviral trees you’ve created will all each have a significant impact, but none of them hold a candle to those. I know you have not had the opportunity to meet her, but Director Storm reassigned her top analysts and research doctors to that project the very day after you departed. I would not be surprised if she now has your picture hanging on her office wall.

“It is way too early to say conclusively, but initial estimates put the likelihood of conceiving a colt somewhere between seventy and ninety-eight percent depending on which combination of treatments are used. By the way, all of your previously anonymous contributions are being credited to your Prince Serpentus identity, now that an alternative to ‘Anonymous’ or your real name is available.”

“Heh. Anonymous,” he says snickering. “That sounds good, boss. I’m sure that’ll head off whatever detractors pop up. I know you’ve probably already gotten at least a few ponies asking why you’re ennobling some nopony from nowhere.”

She reluctantly nods, reassuring him at the same time. “Naturally. There will always be somepony that disagrees with something in any crowd, of course, no matter what, it seems.”

“Right. I bet you could fly down out of the clouds hoofing ponies a check for a million bits and, eventually, you’d find somepony that would refuse it outright. Well, regardless, I’m glad to hear that’s working. Did she say anything about the whole ‘female only sperm’ thing?”

“She was completely unaware that it may be a widespread problem. Several archivists have been assigned to identify sires that have produced only fillies, and a Memorandum is being dispatched to RHA’s nationwide.

“Within a few weeks every doctor in the nation will be made aware that an unverified concern has been brought to our attention. Hopefully before the next season is upon us we can confirm the issue and identify at least some of the potentially impacted individuals.”

“Huh. Damn, you move fast, boss.”

“It is a rather significant public health issue, as you pointed out. The biggest challenge will be determining what to do once the impacted individuals are found. As you may imagine, no treatment is available, other than the direct application of your special talent. Given your age, I would not ask that of you.”

“Ahh fudge. You do realize that at least somepony out there is gonna start calling ‘Prince Serpentus’ Doctor Dick or something like that, right?”

Celestia struggles to hold back a snort, mostly succeeding. The colt still shoots her an unimpressed look, despite the effort. “I apologize, Cure. I know that you did not want to, if I recall, go on a ‘nationwide tour adjusting everypony’s…’ well, balls,” she has to pause as the colt starts giggling.

“First I made her cuss, now I got her to say ‘balls.’ Oh wow, I’m going to have to see if there’s a bingo card out there somewhere I should be filling out.”

Celestia rolls her eyes and huffs at the colt, nudging his side with a knee to get him to refocus. “As I was saying,” she continues, “I know you specifically did not want to do that, so I will not ask that of you.”

“I know healthcare is free. Are travel expenses included in that?”

“Under some circumstances, especially involving a specialist, yes. Unfortunately, I do not believe there is sufficient budgeting to arrange transportation for a sixth to a tenth of all stallions in the nation. And, potentially, colts as well.”

“No… I wasn’t going to ask you to ship a few hundred thousand stallions my way. And even if I went to each metro for a weekend we’re talking six months or more of travel. I’m just thinking out loud, really. What about having a few thousand come every month while I’m staying in the capital going to your school? I bet by then I’ll have enough magic that fixing such a small part of the body-”

This time it’s Celestia’s turn to interrupt, as she can’t help but snort at the comment.

“- for some unfortunate ponies, not all of us, thankfully. Anyhow, it literally takes less than a minute to blast somepony with my magic to fix that issue. Heck, since I don’t physically need to touch them I could probably do a few dozen stallions every five minutes or so. They’ll just need to be… ya know… in like a private, divided up area. I guess.”

She frowns in thought, tilting her head as she asks, “Why? To maintain their anonymity?”

“Umm… remember when I used my talent on your ear?”

“Yes?” He spots the moment it clicks; the princess’s eyes go wide and a hoof shoots up to cover her muzzle. “Oh my,” she quietly mumbles, then begins giggling despite herself.

“Yeah, laugh it up. I ain’t interested in being in a room full of stallions sportin boners, boss. That ain’t my kinda party. How about we trade talents for a year; I’ll take care of the big, glowing ball, you take care of the small, furry ones.”

The princess can’t help herself; no matter how hard she tries not to, laughter escapes her lips. Giving up any attempt to maintain her regal bearing, she squeezes the colt between her forelegs, shaking his whole body in laughter.

“To hear such things from a foal,” she manages to get out between giggles. “I would normally be horrified, but it is just so bizarre.”

“Horrifyingly bizarre is just Sunday to me, boss.”

“Indeed. I suppose this is one instance where I would not be in such a hurry to be able to do what you do, Cure. Still, ponies have gotten by for many centuries despite this challenge. We will identify potential patients and, if you decide you can treat them, then perhaps once we have a better idea of the numbers we can come up with a plan.

“Given the scale I am not certain it will be possible for ponies that are in need of treatment to remain anonymous, but such is the nature of things during a public health crisis. I’m sure that is a sacrifice many would be willing to make if it means being able to sire a colt versus not.”

“True. I guess this is something I’ll be better capable of dealing with when I’m older too. Just let me know if it ends up being a lot worse than anticipated. If it’s bad enough then I’ll figure something out. And don’t exclude females that have ovarian issues. I don’t want anypony to accuse me of being sexist or whatever.”

“Very well,” she softly agrees. “That will increase the number of ponies that need treatment, but I will not exclude mares with fertility issues from whatever plans we examine. Hopefully we can identify the cause of this, assuming there is one, and prevent the problem from continuing.” The two sit in silence for a moment regaining their bearings.

“Took me a minute to remember what we were discussing,” Cure admits.

“I believe we were talking about your grandsire serving as your… well, assistant, essentially. Just so you are aware, the photos have been developed, framed, and shipped to Staff Sergeant Bulwark already.”

“Neat! I can’t wait to see them. Thanks, princess!”

“You are quite welcome, Cure. I’ll be sure to direct future shipments, should there be any, to your grandsire instead.”

“Great! As far as setting up travel, grandpa said he’ll check with either Countess Evergreen to see if she or Marquis Merryland have gotten word from you yet.”

“Either of them can arrange for private transport for you, your family, and any of your friends you invite. Or their parents, given their age. Notices were sent to both that a young colt in their region is to be crowned, but I withheld your true identity for the time being. If you are fine with them being made aware then I will dispatch notices to them. They would have to know eventually to arrange transportation either way, and the date is fast approaching.”

“Yep. Sounds good to me. Besides, couldn’t a marquis order a captain to tell them something like that anyhow?”

“Not if it countermands my own order, no. Or yours. I have not made it known that your authority is limited. I am trusting you immensely, but I have little concern you would issue any official orders that I would not approve of.”

“Wow. Thanks, boss. I mean… other than ‘Don’t tell anypony my real name’ I doubt I’d ever issue one. Maybe if I saw some kind of glaring injustice, but even then, I’d probably just kind of get everypony to chill out and then let you know what happened that night.”

“That would probably be best. I do not want to be caught unawares should somepony feel you have overstepped.”

“Yeah, we don’t need anypony comin to run to tell mommy, do we?”

Celestia scoffs while nodding. “Entirely too likely an outcome, depending on the pony.”

“That sucks. So that should take care of transportation. Next I may need some help arranging room and board for everypony. It’s such short notice and everything was already booked up for the Summer Sun Celebration that I’m not so sure they all will be able to find places to stay. I had considered seeing if Prince Blueblood’s offer is still on the table, but…”

“You are concerned he may, at some point, ask for something in return?”

“Eh, sorta. I mean, there’s not a lot he would ask for, I think, that I wouldn’t be able to fulfill pretty easily. Especially once my magic capacity grows. If he asked for anything too ridiculous I could just point it out, but I have little enough experience dealing with nobles that I’m not sure exactly what the expectation could be.”

She shakes her head, dispelling the concern. “There is no need either way. You are, or will be, a prince of Equestria, Cure. You can have as many rooms at the castle as you require. Feel free to invite your whole family if you so choose; I will have your room ready near my own before then. Of course, you are welcome to stay there whenever you like. I can certainly spare two, three, or even a dozen more rooms in the guest wing for anypony else for the coronation, or whenever an event is coming up. Within reason.”

“Great. Thanks, princess. I don’t plan on abusing that.” Cure pauses in thought for a moment, considering whether there’s any specifics of the coronation he needs to address. “Do I need to like… prepare a speech? Will I speak at all?”

“You do not have to, given your age. As there has been no prince or princess crowned since the founding of the nation there is little precedent from which to work. If you were an adult you would be required to do more, but aside from a vow to ‘help ponykind as you have already been doing’ I will not ask more of you. Would you like to give a speech?”

“Oof. I dunno.” With a cringe, he admits, “I feel bad since, ya know… from the sounds of it, hundreds of thousands of ponies are coming just to get a glimpse at me. I’m going to be in disguise, I’m not using my real name, and the thought of not even saying anything when they’re taking the time and spending the money to come?”

“I’m sure they would appreciate hearing from their new prince,” she offers with a shrug he can feel through his back. “You do not need to say much and, if you would like, I could have somepony write something up for you.”

“No. I’ll come up with something. Maybe next time we meet or the time after I can run it by you.”

“I’ll look forward to hearing it then.”

“Yeah, well… don’t get your hopes up. Aside from that there’s only one other thing. I met with Dr. Care and Ms. Gale, my supervisor at the clinic, about starting to heal as Prince Serpentus beginning in July.

“The plan I proposed is to go there Monday, Wednesday, and Friday mornings for a few hours and clear out their ICU and ER patients, then work on any chronic patients thereafter. They may start shipping in ponies with disabilities or chronic conditions from other areas afterwards.”

“That is phenomenal, Cure. Just take care not to overburden yourself. You must take time for yourself as well.”

“We’re talkin nine hours or less a week. Way less than I’m spending in school right now. I’ll be fine. Anyhow, when I told Dr. Care about becoming an alicorn I didn’t really give any details. I just said ‘I exploded and when I came back I was an alicorn,’ basically. She wanted to know if I’d be willing to do a physical exam since nopony knows anything about our physiology.”

“It would not be a bad idea,” Celestia agrees. “I would have insisted on an examination, but who could I possibly ask to ensure your good health that would be more capable than yourself?”

“Makes sense. I’m sure the doc will be thrilled. The last thing I wanted to run by you is combat training. I plan on doing some self defense classes, maybe some aerial fighting training. Do you have a hoof-to-hoof trainer capable of teaching me when I’m going to school there?”

“None that would know how to fight like an alicorn. Pegasus fight training should be similar enough to use as a basis, though. I am certain we will be able to find somepony once you get settled in.”

“Cool. I think that’s the last thing I needed to bring up with you tonight, princess.”

“Oh? That’s all?” she coyly remarks.

“It has been a busy week,” he responds.

“True,” she agrees, “I do not have anything else urgent to share with you. I will have more as the big day approaches. I am meeting with Family Planning to discuss arrangements for the upcoming birthing season. If you could, by next Sunday, let me know what dates you are available.

“Also, Cloudsdale will be in the area, so if you would like to stay and assist them, discuss it with your parents and tell me next week. I do not want you to overdo it, but even having you nearby for an emergency situation would be phenomenal.”

“Huh. I’d planned on coming back to Baltimare, but Cloudsdale has a much larger population. Pegasi also seem to have a harder time giving birth.”

“They do,” she agrees. “Earth ponies have a significant advantage there, which is the one of the two reasons I wanted to bring it up. The other is due to, as you noted, the larger number of births. Estimates for the summer birthing season in Baltimare are just over five hundred. Cloudsdale, however, is planning for around two thousand.”

“I’ll talk to my parents. Logically speaking, it would make more sense to stay and help Cloudsdale out than it would Baltimare. With the twins, though…”

“I understand. I do not want you to feel pressured. It was merely a suggestion. Talk it over with your parents and let me know.”

“Alright. I’ll see what they think and let you know next weekend.”

“Excellent. Thank you, Cure,” she says, reaching down to nuzzle the top of his head.

Cure rolls over, wrapping his forelegs around her muzzle and pulling her into a hug. “No problem, boss. Get some rest, alright? And, ya know… watch out for them bed bugs.” He shoots her a smirk, gives her one last nuzzle on her chin, then disappears under her scowling visage.

“I can feel it,” she sighs. “I’m going to have to throw a Fireball at him one day,” she confesses to the void.

Author's Note

Next week's will be shorter but the two afterwards will be about like this one.

Chapter 68: Moving

Wednesday, May 13th, 909 AB (3 days later)
Schoolhouse

“I don’t even know why you bother coming at this point!”

“I mean… if you don’t want me to,” he suggests, rolling his hoof leadingly.

“Cure…” the mare groans, then looks up, sighing loudly. “Your attendance this year has been awful!”

“Not my fault,” he grunts, looking away.

“How is it not?! You’ve only been here half a day every Friday, you’ve left early a dozen times for taxes, work, or whatever, and you flat out missed a dozen more for every reason under the sun!”

“Those have all been legitimate, parent approved reasons! I’ve given ya notes for all of ‘em!”

“I know they have, but that doesn’t excuse taking four days off just to go watch some flying show!”

“It was the Wonderbolt’s season opener! My sire bought those tickets for me! I wasn’t standin by the pond watchin ducks flap about in the friggin water!”

“Don’t you take that tone with me, young colt!” she sternly warns, waving a hoof scoldingly. “I’ve put up with your snark and back-talk enough times throughout the year because you’re normally very helpful. I feel like I’ve been very fair, but in this classroom I expect you to behave like a well mannered young colt should!”

Cure grumbles under his breath. “See if I play wingpony again…”

“What was that?!” she asks, ears snapping in his direction.

“I said I have a pony coming by to get her wings done again today,” he quickly blurts out. “She’s scheduled before we start movin stuff, so I’ll hafta go soon.”

Sighing, she gives the colt a long stare. “Cure… I know you’re smart, and I’m sure you’ll make a lot of bits given your talent, but if you ever really want to make something of yourself you need to stop coming up with excuses to skip out on your responsibilities. I only hope you show more dedication to your work than you do here.”

“I do, Miss Apple! I see customers six days a week, usually! That’s not even counting how much I volunteer at the clinic!”

“And that is admirable, especially given your age. You have great potential, Cure. I would hate to find someday that you didn’t live up to it. You should consider going to a university; maybe think about becoming a real doctor instead of just coasting on your talent.

“I’m sure you’ve heard about the new alicorn prince. Let him be an example of how hard work and dedication can pay off!” She sighs wistfully and shakes her head in disbelief. “Only a colt about your age and he’s already done something I didn’t even know was possible!”

Refocusing back on her student, she reverts right back to her lecturing tone. “If you really applied yourself, who knows? Maybe you could… I don’t know,” she grimaces, trying to come up with some way to finish the sentence, “umm… be some kind of advisor for him someday! Maybe even an apprentice!”

Cure presses a hoof against his forehead, slowly running it down his face in annoyance. The temptation to pull his peytral out of his mane is present, but nowhere near strong enough to make him do it.

“Don’t let it frustrate you, Cure. Nopony is expecting that from anypony,” she reassures him. “He’s still a good example to try to live up to, though. And just think; rumors are saying he’s from just over in Baltimare! I bet that’s who’s been healing all those ponies over there!”

“Well, the princess said he’s the one that made their new equipment, so probably,” he agrees. “Maybe I’ll get to meet him if my parents let me work the births again in the summer.”

“Maybe, if they even need your help. Who knows with an alicorn healer nearby!”

“Right. Welp, I really do need to get goin if that’s okay. I mean… you have the note from my parents. Should I maybe get one from the princess next time instead?”

“Har har, Cure. I’ll tell you what, you get me a note from any alicorn and I’ll never bother you again.”

“Really?”

Scoffing at the suggestion, she shrugs. “Sure, why not? There’s only two weeks left anyhow.”

“I’ll think about it.”

“I’m hooo-ooome! How are all my little pony parents doing?” They seem to be doing nothing, he observes. Only Amethyst and Title are here, snuggled together reading and, as best Cure can tell, they waited for him to get home before starting. That’s fine with him; he had told them he could probably move almost everything with virtually no effort whatsoever.

“Ugh, I need you to adjust all that happy,” Title huffs in annoyance. “I don’t even wanna get started. Moving sucks.”

“Try doin it twice in six months, sugarplum.”

“You didn’t really move anything, though. You just kinda… came over.”

“Eh, fair ‘nuf.”

“Y’all got it easy compared to humans. Clothes, electronics, no magic -”

Title rolls her eyes, cutting the colt off mid sentence. “Ugh… tell us again, Cure. How bad did the poor widdle hoo-mans have it when their fancy gadgets and infinite entertainment.”

“Aught’a show ya how humans make glue,” he quietly huffs.

“What?”

“Nothin.”

“Thought so…”

“So seriously, what do we even need to take? We barely have any clothes, we’re getting all new furniture… frankly, we just don’t have much.” Actually admitting it out loud really drives home how little the family has. The living room has little more than a few cushions the family has used for couches. There’s the A-frame spice rack and some art supplies on a bookcase that Deed keeps organized.

There’s the toybox full of things Cure has made along with the ones they’ve bought for the girls, another bin with the puzzles and games he’s made for Savvy, then a shelf with some books on it. With no cameras there are not any family portraits or anything; just some pictures his sire has drawn since he started doodling.

No electricity means no technology, though magic replaces that for some things like kitchen appliances. The stove, refrigerator, and his coffee maker are the only ‘modern’ appliances they have, and all of those are free standing, the stove latched down to prevent tipping. Crystals with Cleaning and the more powerful Sanitize make a dishwasher, washing machine, and vacuum all unnecessary.

“Other than the girls’ toys, dad’s art stuff, and miscellaneous stuff like linens, books, or whatever, I don’t think we have hardly anything to move.”

“There’s the file cabinets and the stuff we have in our room, but other than that…” Title pauses, looking around. “Huh. We’re getting all new kitchenware, too, right?”

“Sure are,” Amethyst confirms. “Sweets is orderin quality pans, utensils, and whatnot all through a catalog she has at tha store. We’ll only be usin this stuff a couple more weeks.”

“So basically we just need to take the beds and crap ‘till all the new stuff gets delivered?”

“Yup.”

“Well, that’ll make this pretty easy then.” He looks around, giving a couple sniffs and pointing his ears about. “Where’s dam?”

“She’s at the park with the fillies. She ain’t liftin nothin.”

“No, no… I was just askin ‘cause I didn’t hear her movin around or see the girls. I mean… I could literally have all of this crap packed and the house empty in an hour. Have you already eaten?”

“I can get lunch started while ya get it all loaded up,” Amethyst volunteers.

“Sounds good. Thanks, momma. Mom, could you move all the keepsakes and the stuff you guys have hidden in your room down here? I’m gonna go get my plant ready.”

“Sure thing, honey,” she easily agrees. The two head up the stairs together; Cure peeling off to go to his room and Title heading off into theirs.

He hops on his bed and looks around his room, shocked again at how little he actually owns. The really bizarre part of the whole thing is that it occurs to him that there’s really very little a pony actually needs. Earth ponies, in particular, are hardy enough that virtually all of the things a human would literally die without are, essentially, luxuries.

Clothing is entirely unnecessary unless temperatures are well below freezing; their thickened winter coat alone is amazingly effective. With the pegasus cold mitigation, and now with access to their magic, Cure isn’t sure what his minimum operating temperature is, but it’s cold enough to deal with anything he’ll encounter outside of the Frozen North; a place he has absolutely zero interest in visiting until the Crystal Empire returns.

Their beds, while raised off the ground on a platform, are little more than a mattress wrapped in a fitted sheet with a few pillows, a sheet on top, and, during the winter months, a blanket. There are no box springs and the entire unit is solid; a necessity given it’s holding up somewhere north of a thousand kilograms worth of pony.

They have all the usual towels, extra linens, and a variety of grooming and cleaning products for their coats, manes, and tails, but there’s very little Cure’s talent hasn’t made unnecessary. They haven’t touched a hoof file since last September and he can fix any skin or hair issue in a few seconds. They still brush their teeth just because the notion of not doing so feels strange, but it’s not like they have fancy toothbrushes that can’t just be replaced.

They are taking their kitchen appliances with them. His parents had a good point; whoever ends up buying their house will probably be an earth pony and, unless they show them how to charge crystals, they’ll need to replace the fancy magic stove he bought with another wood-burning unit, then re-hook it to the exterior vent that they blocked off when installing the magic-powered units he bought for Hearth’s Warming.

That’s fine though; wood burning stoves are a fair amount cheaper. There’s no point in leaving the refrigerator behind either, so whoever gets the house will have to buy a new set of pot-in-pot coolers like the family used to have. Of course, that’s just another area where ponies are simply easier than humans. Since virtually all the nutrients a pony needs can be gained from leafy greens, grains, and fruit, they don’t have freezers full of meat that need power all the time.

The table and chairs are staying behind. They’re a matching unit, and the table is secured to the ground so ponies can lean their chest or barrel against it while eating. Cure’s sure he could make a better one with soft cushioning that’s fused right into the ground, but his parents insist it’s unnecessary.

Plugging into his plant, he checks to ensure nopony is in their backyard or nearby overhead, then begins shifting the mass. From the outside of the house the view would probably end up with somepony yelling for the Guard. Flowing down one of the large vines in the back, the mass of vines slowly takes the shape of a large, wooden, flatbed wagon.

The wheels don’t need to be overly large and the bed is low to the ground to help with easy loading and unloading, not that anypony will be lifting anything on or off of it. He adds a hoof thick layer of springy, spongelike cellulose between the frame and the flatbed, hoping that it’ll reduce the jostling. With the ability to molecularly bond two surfaces there’s no need for braces or attachments between the layers.

Cure takes a closer look at the axle and comes to the very quick conclusion that he has no clue what he’s doing. He doesn’t know how much weight an axle can support, nor does he have any idea what an axle should actually look like. Fortunately, he can cheat.

Opting to over engineer the part, he makes each axle a little over fifteen centimeters in diameter; completely unnecessary given the weight reduction that’ll be in effect. The wheels are solid rather than spoked, and they are fused directly to the axles themselves. The outside is textured to give them more grip.

The “sleeve,” since he doesn’t know the correct term, that the axles run through spans the entire width of the undercarriage. A slightly larger ball in the center will prevent slippage from side to side, and a waxy, oily mixture between the surfaces should minimize friction.

It occurs to Cure that when he’s ready to make his dam a new wagon he should probably consult Ferric.

<< Hey Red, do you all put wagons together or is that somepony else? >>

<< Huh-uh. Blacksmiths just make the metal parts. Remember the big building just a little east of my job? >>

<< The huge barn lookin thing? >>

<< Mmhmm. That’s the town cartwright. You’ll want to talk to them. >>

<< Cool. Thanks, babe! >>

Making a mental note to consult the cartwright when he’s ready to build the real thing, Cure finishes the wagon, adding a raised bench for himself and the girls, a tall, bowed frame arched up and over the bed, and a thin cotton cloth to cover it.

Cure figures that as their possessions are loaded he can alter the shape to fit each item or add shelves as necessary. All told, only about half of the mass of the plant is required, most of which is due to the heavy axles, their supports, and the frame on the undercarriage.

With the wagon in place he remains attached to benefit from the extra magic generation while forming a large horn in the attic. He catches Amethyst looking at the new wagon outside the back door for a moment before going back to stir the pot of cubed potatoes she’s boiling to soften.

Hitting each larger piece of furniture with a Reduce, Cure starts floating items one-by-one out of their rooms, down the upstairs hall, down the stairs, past the living room, through the kitchen, and out the back door. He has to pace himself even with the extra magic generation from his plant, but there’s no hurry. Amethyst and Title both watch in awe at the parade of possessions as they float by, set down on the flatbed, then get strapped down.

Smirking mischeviously, he casts Reduce on Title as well, barely holding back a laugh as the pink mare floats up in the air, scowling at nothing as she’s floated down the stairs towards the kitchen.

“Jus’ toss that in the compost heap, Cure!” he hears Amethyst shout from downstairs. She runs a hoof through her mane as she yells, “Yer parents found a better, prettier model anyhow. Eats less, too.”

“You shattap,” Title calls out as she’s floated out the door and strapped down. “Damnit, Cure! Untie me!” Sufficiently entertained, he helps the mare back out, floating her up and out of the wagon so she doesn’t break anything flailing to get loose as he dispells the Reduce. With a light telekinetic force, he gives her a gentle pat on the head between the ears while chuckling at the angry scowl she’s aimed up towards his approximate location.

“Sorry, momma! I wasn’t payin attention. Just saw a heavy piece of furniture, ya know? I forgot we don’t have any big pink couches, and sight through the aura ain’t exactly the same.”

“Damn brat,” she huffs as she makes her way back in the kitchen. “Show you heavy when I stomp yer damn rear…” she grumbles, taking her seat at the kitchen table and crossing her forelegs to sit in mock offense.

Cure hops off his bed and takes care of his own room next, floating down his Spell Scanner tree, furniture, and then his homework desk his parents got him when he started school almost two years ago. With everything that they weren’t imminently using loaded and ready to go, he starts casting Mending on section after section of the house, anywhere he sees the slightest bit of damage.

The behavior of the spell is odd to Cure. He can’t quite wrap his head around how, conceptually ‘damage’ is repaired, but wear and tear is not. The table on the train he’d sliced in half, the paper he’d torn when he initially refused to sign them, and the lock that the minotaurs broke could be fixed by the spell, but for whatever reason casting it on an aged support beam didn’t suddenly make it new again.

The theory books he’d read with Celestia helped explain why and how the limitation existed, to a degree. Apparently the spell analyzes an object’s conceptual ideal state at a given moment. A piece of wood that has rotted over years is, unless otherwise damaged, in the state that would be “ideal” for a piece of wood that has been exposed to the elements of nature and allowed to rot.

Inflicting artificial or intentional damage such as scratches, nicks, or full-on breaks causes the item to deviate from that ideal state and, therefore, the Mending spell is capable of restoring the item. A rusted tool will remain rusted, for example. Any cracks or scratches would be Mended back to new, though.

The spell has no effect on anything living; the definition of ideal for anything still alive is not quantifiable, apparently. Either that or the sequence that determines what is ideal isn’t robust enough to make that determination.

It may also be being blocked somehow by the metaphysical presence a living creature has. The spell failed to work on a piece of enamel he’d extruded and snapped in half until the metaphysical three week timer expired. Any breaks that occurred prior to the connection severing remained; new ones could be mended, though.

Cure had expected to find some kind of time component in the spell formula, but there isn’t anything he could find that has any chronomancy sequences, aside from a part of the analysis procedure that, again, conceptually looks at the “life” of the item to determine where exactly it should be.

The only real modifications he can make to the Mending cantrip is to increase the area of impact. Doing so requires much more magic since the runic version is limited to only about half of a meter per side at a maximum or a few centimeters per side at its lowest setting. Mana consumption is low either way, which is why it is considered a cantrip, but repeated casts at maximum size would still burn a lot of magic and, again, with it only fixing breaks and tears, little would be gained.

Cure goes through the house, centimeter by centimeter, and Mends everything that needs it. He’s not going to take the time to replace all of the wood since his plant has nowhere near enough mass, but that can be an ongoing nightly project in the new house. He figures by the end of summer he’ll have, effectively, re-built the house one part at a time.

Once everything is loaded up and everything has been Mended he joins his moms at the kitchen table, ready to enjoy the soup and salad lunch Amethyst is whipping up for them.

<< Food’s about ready, dam. You four headed home soon? >>

<< We’ll be there in about fifteen minutes, honey. Go ahead and start without us. >>

He reaches over and sets his hoof on Title’s and consolingly says, “I know you wanted to wait for everypony, but dam says ta go ahead and eat without ‘em. They’ll be back in about fifteen minutes. Mom and I will get started, but feel free to hold off until the rest get here.”

Amethyst snickers quietly at the stove, careful not to turn where Title can see. The dark mare’s light shaking isn’t missed even if Title is busy scowling at the colt.

“You’re all kinda funny today aren’t ya, brat? Something good happen at school?”

“Not really, just glad not to have to go back. Miss Apple gave me shit for leaving early again. You’d just about think she forgot that, technically, I don’t have to go at all. At least she offered me a deal, of a sort.”

“A deal?”

“Yup. I made a quip about parents’ notes not being good enough and asked if she’d like one from the boss lady next time. She gave me this spiel about applying myself and going to university in the hopes I may do something amazing like our new prince.”

“HA!” Amethyst barks out a laugh from the stove. “Ya didn’t tell ‘er didjya?”

“Nah, it woulda been funny but isn’t worth it. She said get her a note from either alicorn and she’ll stop bugging me when I leave early.” Both moms look at the colt questioningly. “No, I’m not going to do it.

“I might as well tell the whole world it’s me if I link myself to that identity like that. Besides, she’s been a pain all year despite notes from you all and even a copy of my contract with Sgt. Bulwark. At this point I’m really tempted to stop goin, but I told the girls I’d stick around till the end of the school year, so,” he finishes with a shrug.

“Food’s ready,” Amethyst tells them, shooting the colt a grateful smile when he floats it all onto the table, then dishes it up for the three as she takes Deed’s normal spot. All three dig in, enjoying the quiet meal.

Once Vines and the fillies all get home, make the necessary pit stops, and get fed, the family finishes loading up the few miscellaneous items; keepsakes, recipe books, official documents, wedding bands, and the like. Cure calls for Cherry and Lotus to hop up beside him while holding Savvy between his forelegs. He’s perfectly fine with walking, but being connected to the wagon gives him the ability to lighten it, as well as the contents, significantly.

Title straps herself into the yoke, complimenting the plush cushioning and softness of the silk straps that ensure the wagon is securely fastened and will stop when she does. With the far lighter weight and her absurd strength she has no difficulty pulling everything as they make their way north through the park and around the western edge of town, skirting around the downtown area’s more crowded paths.

It’s only about twenty minutes later when they arrive at their new house, eager to start unpacking and putting things away.

“Hey babe,” Amethyst shouts back to Title, “ya sure ya got tha right keys? These ain’t workin.” The dark mare fiddles with the lock for another moment as Vines, Title, Cure, and all the daughters watch with growing confusion.

“Those are definitely the ones he sent us. The letter said he tried to drop them off at the office, but since we were in Canterlot…” she lets out a sigh. “Unhook me, honey,” she calls back to Cure. Once she’s freed up she joins Amethyst, the two each trying the key a few times before failing.

“Hold on,” Cure calls as he hops down and sets his sister by his dam. “Here, you’re doing it wrong,” he explains, beckoning for the keys as he trots up to join them. “Stupid question; today is the day we officially take ownership, right? You’re one hundred percent sure?”

Title sits on her rear and digs into her saddlebag, pulling out the folder with the closing documents and showing Cure the date. “Well, we owned it once we all signed the title. But yes, today is the day they said they would be gone and we can occupy it. May 13th, 909 AB at noon,” she reads aloud. “You got home from school around noon, didn’t you?”

“Yeah, thereabouts,” he confirms. A quick check of his watch shows it’s now just shy of 1:30 in the afternoon. “Alright, I’m going to show you a little trick, so make sure you’re both paying attention, okay? It’s very complex and I don’t want to have to demonstrate it again.”

A couple eye rolls is his only answer, though Title does pass him the keys at the same time. He takes the keys, tucks them into his mane pouch, then reaches up, grabs the doorknob, and rips it straight out of the door, shattering the doorframe at the same time.

Devoid of anything keeping it closed, the door swings open into the house. “Ta daa!” he exclaims as he extends his horn, levitates the knob back in place, and Mends the door and the frame as his moms look on dumbfounded.

“Silly ponies don’t even know how to open doors,” he scoffs, walking in the house. “Why is all their shit still here?” he asks, looking to his left at the formal living room. “That… doesn’t look like the same stuff as when we looked at the place last month.” He perks an ear when an unexpected noise catches his attention upstairs. “Did they leave a shower running?”

“What?” Title asks as she and Amethyst follow him inside. She looks to the right, angling her ears up the stairs and nods in agreement. “It sure sounds like it. That’s weird.”

“Is that singing?” Amethyst asks. All three stand motionless, listening for a moment as a mare’s voice reaches them, singing and humming away, presumably while showering. The water and the singing both stop as the three share a look.

With a shrug, Title turns back and approaches the stairs, calling out a “Hello?” To whoever is in their house. The rushed, frantic clops of hooves on the floor signal that the shout was heard and, a moment later, a door is thrown open down the hall. With all three looking on in confusion the ears, brow, and eyes of a dull yellow mare slowly creep over the staircase landing looking down at them.

“Why are you in my house?” she warily asks.

“Ain’t yer house, lady,” Amethyst answers. “We bought it a few weeks ago. Today’s the day yer supposed ta vacate. Bout an hour ‘n half ago, ta be precise.”

The timid look evaporates in an instant and her ears go rigid, pinning back as she scowls at the dark mare. “I just moved in! Leased it two weeks ago! Get OUT!” she shouts, throwing a balled up towel roughly in their direction, then darting away back down the hall.

The towel comes unrolled midair and wetly smacks into the floor in front of Title’s hooves, inflicting minimal injuries upon the mare. She looks over her withers at the other two, cocking a single brow in confusion.

“I’m not sure if that was some kind of attack or if she was trying to surrender,” Cure comments. Both mares give him questioning looks, so he waves at it and explains, “Well she literally threw in the towel.” In a cheeky tone he asks, “Does that mean we win?”

Vines pokes her head in the door as the two groan at the awful joke. “There’s a mare leaning out a window on the back of the house screaming for the guards. I think a few ponies went running to get them.”

“Does this kinda thing happen a lot?” Cure asks Title.

Shaking her head no, the mare pauses and perks her ears towards the stairs again. “Is… is that a foal crying?”

Amethyst lets out a long suffering sigh, hanging her head in frustration. “This is going to be a fuckin pain. I can tell already.”

It only took five minutes before three guards could be seen trotting down the street. Amethyst had taken the girls into town for ice cream while Vines, Title, and Cure stayed behind to mind the wagon and speak to whoever showed up. A few ponies passed by, looking between the three, their wagon, and the house in confusion. Not surprising, given they’d witnessed one family move out and, apparently, another move in already just in the last few weeks.

Cure recognizes the corporal leading the small squad; it’s one of the earth ponies that used to go to Base Carol with as part of Sgt. Haze’s group on opposite Fridays from Bulwark and his squad; one that only has a few months left before his enlistment is set to end.

Corporal Sabot is not in the know as far as Cure’s recent change in status, but that’s probably for the best given that he isn’t looking for any special treatment, nor does he particularly want anypony letting something slip out in a public setting.

Of course, that doesn’t mean the colt is particularly happy with the way things are going. In fact, after the second retelling of the events, he’s basically lost all patience. Hoof pressed into his face, he can’t help but let out a sigh as the corporal looks up from his notepad and asks, “And you entered the house, how, again?”

“I ripped the doorknob off, Sabot. I know you freaking wrote that down already, so how’s about we skip to the part where you tell us what the plan is here, huh?”

“Cure! Be nice!” Vines shouts from the wagon.

“I am being nice! I didn’t cuss once,” he insists, glaring at the bronze earth pony, “yet.”

“Let Title take care of it,” she insists, hoping to spare the corporal the colt’s temper.

Sighing, the corporal looks down at the colt, explaining, “Cure, I understand your frustration, but despite the fact you help the Guard a lot, I expect you to be respectful when interacting with us in a situation like this.” He waves back and forth between them and adds, “This needs to be kept professional, got it?”

“And how is my expectation that you can read something I know you already wrote being disrespectful? The keys weren’t working, so I yanked the doorknob off. Since it’s our house,” he shouts, pointing a hoof at the file Title is holding, “I immediately fixed it with Mending. I have crystals with lots of spells in a bit pouch. What’s the issue here?”

“The issue,” he starts with a huff, “is that you broke into an occupied dwelling. That is typically considered a crime, I assume you realize.”

“A dwelling we own and are supposed to take possession of today,” Title heatedly argues. “She isn’t supposed to be here! You can’t charge somepony for breaking into their own house, especially when it should be empty!”

The still damp mare sees fit to interject from the upstairs window. “It’s my house! I paid for it!”

Title doesn’t even acknowledge her, focusing solely on the sighing corporal in front of her.

“I am aware, which is why we’re discussing this here instead of at the station.”

“It’s a scam!” Title shouts, waving the house’s title in front of the him. “The owner was able to get out earlier while we were in the capital. You know, visiting your boss,” she says with a hoof jabbed in his direction, “and some flankhole saw an opportunity to make some bits. Her lease is invalid!”

“I am aware of that as well, but she is currently occupying the residence,” he calmly explains.

“EE-LEE-GALL-LEE,” Title slowly enunciates, sounding out every syllable in a shout, punctuated with stomps. “She’s illegally occupying the residence! She’s a squatter!”

“YOU’RE ILLEGAL!” comes the shout from the second story window. Title glances up and growls at the mare, causing her to duck back away from the opening with a yelp.

“And tell me, Mrs. Search,” the corporal replies, “what has to happen when somepony has taken up residence in a house when they are not supposed to be there?”

“You throw their stupid rear out on the street?” Cure asks hopefully.

Title hangs her head and lets out a sigh. “They have to be evicted by the court…”

“Exactly,” the stallion nods. “And when there’s a foal involved?”

“Celestia damn it… they get two notices instead of just one.”

“Correct.”

“Wait a second,” Cure calls. “We have to get the court involved to move into our own house that we bought legally,” he growls, “because some prick out there wanted to make a few hundred bits?”

“Yes,” both his mom and the corporal reply at the same time.

“That’s fucking bullshit,” he immediately replies, earning a scowl from the stallion and the two privates.

His dam shouts from the wagon, “Cure! Language!”

He turns and waves at the house, nearly whining, “Well it is! We have three foals, soon to be five. How is this fair?”

“You have a house to stay in. Two, if I’m not mistaken,” Sabot argues. “Does she have a spare?”

“No!” is shouted from the window.

“Ffff…” Cure hisses, staring up at the window before biting back the curse and calming down. “Fine. What’s the process here?”

“We give her an eviction notice,” Title explains. “She has thirty days. We give her a second notice. She has another two weeks to respond,” she says, glaring at the window where the mare pops back up to smugly smile back.

“So we’re looking at the end of June, start of July,” Cure mumbles, waving for her to continue.

“Then we have to file a court motion. She can fight it. It can go to trial and, at some point,” she waves to the distance, “she will, inevitably, eventually, lose. And then,” she growls, thrusting the hoof holding the file at the mare, “I’ll be sure to file suit for damages, collecting, or issuing a lien for fair market rent for every second between now and then.” That causes the mare to wince, at least, before she disappears back in the house.

Sabot shrugs and slowly nods. “That’s more than likely about the sum of it,” he agrees.

“How long does the trial part take?”

“Well,” he pauses, leaning back to think, “the courts in Baltimare aren’t too backed up. A month or so to schedule it, maybe? The trial itself should be pretty quick. Less than an hour, I’d bet. This seems relatively open-and-shut.”

“So we won’t even get into our own house until August?!” he shrieks.

“Oh, no… the court won’t hear your case until around then. If a decision comes down right away she’ll still have thirty days to vacate afterwards. Again, she’s got a foal. It’ll probably be September or so at a minimum. That is,” he glances at the house, “unless you all can work something else out.”

“How much did she pay whoever pulled this?”

“She says she paid two hundred for the deposit, another two hundred for the first month’s rent,” he explains. “She doesn’t have a receipt, but it is in the lease. Not that it’s valid or anything.”

“That seems low for a house this size.” Cure looks at his mom and asks, “How much would you charge somepony to rent one of our houses?”

She tilts her head side to side in thought, “Ehhh… for ours, with all the upgrades and fixes you’ve done, the new stove that we were getting and whatnot… two fifty is probably about right. Whoever let her have this for that was obviously just tryin to get somepony to sign on without asking too many questions.”

“I figured. I’m gonna do the same fixes and upgrades with Amy and Lemon’s place before I move the rest of my plant. Do we have any buyers lined up for either property?”

“Not yet, no… think she’d be okay moving?”

“It’s just her and her foal. She doesn’t exactly need four bedrooms,” he points out, waving at the house. He notices the mare peeking over the windowsill, listening in on their conversation. “We could move all her stuff and she could stay at either of our old places rent-free for a while. Six months?”

“A year!” she shouts out the window.

“It’s… not a bad idea,” Title tentatively agrees. She looks at the window and yells back, “We’ll help you move, you get the place rent free through December, and we don’t have to drag your rear through the courts. It has a fully stocked, very well taken care of garden, a new stove once it’s delivered, a new roof, and was cleaned from top to bottom. You’re not going to get a better deal.”

“I was going to move the garden,” Cure comments.

“How would you move a garden?” Sabot asks in genuine curiosity.

“My talent is completely unfair, that’s how,” Cure offers.

The corporal shrugs but nods in agreement despite the seemingly ridiculousness of the statement. He’s seen enough of what the colt can do that there’s not a whole lot of things he would legitimately doubt is possible.

“We can come collect seeds and we’ll take a few things to get us started,” Title suggests. “There’s enough there that it’ll spoil if it’s just the two of you.”

“I can get our new garden up and running in no time, mom. I’ll just commit some of my plant to it. We’ll have it good as new in a couple weeks.”

“I know you can, honey,” she assures him, leaning down to kiss the top of his head. “We’ll all do it together.” She looks at the window and yells, “Well, how bout it? With the corporal as witness…” she turns from the nodding mare to Sabot and asks, “You’re okay with that, right?”

“Sure. If it solves the problem we can witness the agreement. It won’t be legally binding, exactly, but if this ends up in front of a judge because somepony didn’t fulfill their end of the agreement… well, it won’t look good.”

“No,” Cure immediately dismisses, getting a scowl from the mare. “Have your attorney draw up something ironclad; a real lease agreement. I want it notarized and fully official. We’re not going to go through this again come December just to save whatever the lawyer charges. Especially since the corporal will have left the Guard by then. For now, let’s get the ball rolling on the eviction. What do you need to do?”

Title looks at Sabot and asks, “Is there a standard form? I’ve never looked into being a landlord.”

“There is. The receptionist at the station has forms like that you just fill in. I would have brought one if I’d known the situation. You can also get them at Town Hall and I bet your attorney would have them on hoof. Drop it off at the station and we’ll serve it the next business day. In the meantime,” he finishes, looking between the house and their wagon.

“Such crap,” Cure huffs, turning to retake his spot on the bench. He pauses and turns back, looking up at the corporal. “I’m sorry for being a jerk, Corporal Sabot. I know none of this is your fault. You didn’t deserve that.”

The earth pony gives him a half shrug and a wry grin. “No big deal, colt. I know it’s frustrating. We learn pretty early on not to take it to heart.”

Cure looks up at the empty window. “I hope you’re real happy with yourself. I know you’re a victim here too, but instead of tryin to come up with a solution you sat up there and acted like a heckling jerk. I’m sure you’ll set a really great example for your foal some day, lady.” Piece said, the colt turns his rear on the house, nuzzles his dam’s chest, and hops back up on the wagon.

Title watches as he walks away. The rebuke by such a young foal apparently struck a chord; the mare peers out the window looking none too pleased with the situation. Cure intentionally positions himself to keep his rear turned towards the mare who, after a moment, shuts the window and slinks away.

Sabot watches on, wincing at the verbal haymaker the colt delivers. With business concluded for now, he calls over the two privates, and the three begin their trek back into town.

With little else to do, Title rejoins her wife and son, stepping back into the yoke and calling for Cure to hook her back up. As they get underway he tells them, “I’ve already sent messages to dad, Amy, and Lemon giving them a short summary. I told them to just come home when they’re done working for the day like normal. I’m going to take the wagon to their house to fix it up like I did ours after I unloaded everything.”

“Alright. Thanks, babe. I’ve only seen this kinda thing happen one other time. I shoulda known something was up when they told us the water was already turned on.”

“Lesson learned,” Cure agrees. “Next time we’ll have somepony keep an eye out if we’re gonna be out of town. At least I can finally tell the boss something happened that I didn’t plan for.”

“That’s hilarious!” Drift cackles as she takes aim. “She has no idea who she’s messing with! What’re you gonna do?” She kicks the ball to Heavy and asks, “Fill the place with bees or something?”

“Crosswind Drift!” Dawn scolds, “There’s an innocent foal in there!”

Drift grimaces, awkwardly nodding in acceptance. “I guess, but still…”

“Still nothing,” Cure answers as he traps the pass from other colt. “The Guard will know if anything weird happens it’s probably from me. That’s not exactly the kinda stuff the boss lady would be happy about.” He glances Glacial’s direction and shouts, “Go high!” Kipping the ball up, he rotates and gives it a one-hoof buck as it comes down.

Glacial shoots up to intercept the high kick, flipping over mid-air and spiking it back down to Coast. The cyan filly isn’t quite ready for that much speed, dodging out of the way as it goes flying past. She shoots a scowl at the apologetic pegasus, barely turning to fetch it before Sapphire shoots past her.

“June isn’t that far away,” Ferric comments. She’s sitting next to Rising as the yellow filly idly plays some music on her clarinet. She was leery of bringing the sax outside even though Dawn assured her they could Mend it if anything happens.

“It’s still unfair,” Dawn grumbles. “She’s in your house and you can’t even do anything about it.”

“Yeah, well… I dunno what to say,” Cure offers with a shrug. “Crap like this just happens sometimes.” The sudden instinct to duck is the only thing that saves Cure from getting bapped on his side as the ball sails just over his withers.

He turns to his left and finds Sapphire smiling broadly. The filly gives him a challenging look and bobs her head side to side. “Whatchya gonna do, snakey-poo? Hmm?” Cure gives a start, fake lunging at the girl who laughs hysterically and runs to dive behind her sister and Rising, peeking out from the pair’s sides and sticking her tongue out.

“Nutjob,” he mumbles, watching as Dawn bounces the ball in her TK for a moment before kicking it back to Heavy.

“I guess if you think you’ll have it in a few weeks that’s probably not too bad, dude. Sucks you didn’t find out ‘till you got there, though.”

Cure takes a moment to really look around. Nopony is near their little group, so speaking candidly is fine. “Yeah… Well, at least I was able to use my plant, so packing everything up was a cinch.”

Heavy quirks a brow at that. “The ones from the train?”

“Yep. They’re all really just one big plant I split up to make more portable. When they’re merged back together, though, I can use ‘em all over the house.”

“He showed me,” Dawn boasts. “It’s in his attic. He can move it around like it’s part of him. His whole roof is part of it.”

The group all pauses to process the statement. Drift, as usual, is the first one to speak up. “Your talent is absolutely ridiculous. I mean, I know we’ve said it before, but… seriously?”

“It is, but I’m also using it smart. I’ve been tellin ya all along, you gotta cheat properly. Mine may be stupidly exploitable, but at least I can explain how it works. Sort of. Yours is just pure divination cow manure, and yer sister’s just laughs in the face of physics.”

“What the fuck does my talent have to do with math?!”

Glacial face-wings so hard Cure feels the draft from several meters away. “Divination, you doofus!” she groans.

At Drift’s uncomprehending look Dawn steps in to explain. “Divination is a school of magic that has to do with reading futures or, in your case, knowing something you shouldn’t be able to know.”

“Oh. Is that how I can find somepony?”

“Crosswind Drift, everypony,” Cure sighs, “Hide and go seek champion, 909 AB. At least, the seeking part.”

The filly preens, thrusting her chest out and standing tall. “I am pretty awesome.”

Snickering aloud, Sapphire argues, “‘Cept at math and vocabulary, it seems.” Rising pauses her playing to giggle at the burn, then reaches over and gives Sapphire a hoofbump.

“I wanna see it next time we’re over,” Glacial requests.

“We could always go now,” Cure suggests. “I could use it to make some Buckball supplies. I haven’t suggested it before now ‘cause, ya know, it takes at least two unicorns to play, but I could always give it a whirl in disguise.” He looks over at Dawn and adds, “It’d be good for our practice too. You said Solar struggled with fine TK control in Basic, so…” he trails off at everypony’s confused look. “What?”

“Buckball?” Ferric asks.

“Yeah… you know, two teams, a member of each tribe on a team. Get goals through a ring or into a basket?”

Sapphire gives him an impressed look. “It sounds fun! Did you just make this up?”

“No? It’s not popular -”

“Apparently,” Drift interrupts.

“... but it looked fun when I saw it. It’s at least more fun than just passing,” he insists, waving amongst the group. “The only problem is we have an odd number of earth ponies.” Shrugging he adds, “I mean, I guess it won’t really matter. We’re not playing for money or anything.”

“I’ve never heard of it,” Glacial starts, “but it does sound pretty fun. How’s it work?”

“Split a playing field in half. The earth ponies and pegasus are on one side with the other team’s unicorn. The unicorn has to stand behind a line in the back and move a ring or basket around to get the ball to go through, or catch it, I guess. The other team has to stay ahead of the line. Each team is trying to score in the ring on the opposite side of the field.

“Pegasi usually play defense ‘cause y’all are fast and can fly. Earth ponies can kick harder, so we are the ones trying to buck the ball through the ring. Bucks only, no foreleg kicks. I don’t know the field size or anything, but I could change the grass white or yellow in lines for different markers and we could experiment to find what works. Same with the size of the rings… too big or too small may make it too easy or hard.”

“I could just referee,” Rising suggests. “It sounds like you’ll need one.”

“That would work… y’all wanna give it a try? We could play in my backyard and go for a swim at the pond afterwards.” With eager nods all around, Cure and co make their way to his home; the colt unaware he introduced a new sport decades prior to when it would otherwise be invented.

Author's Note

A little shorter SoL chapter for y'all. As always, thanks for reading!

Chapter 69: Rock'em Sock'em Healbot

Friday, May 22nd, 909 AB (9 days later)

“... and that’s why this upcoming Summer Sun Celebration is such a big deal! I only wish I could go,” Polished Apple laments with a wistful sigh. “Show of hooves,” she calls, “whose family is going to the capital this year?”

Cure, of course, raises his hoof in the air, as do his friends and only a few others.

“I’m sick‘a hearin ‘bout the new prince,” Bounce, one of the older colts, grumbles. “‘s all my parent’s been talkin ‘bout for the last two weeks. Prince this, prince that, who’s Serpentus, where’d he come from, how come I never seen ‘em round Baltimare before. Ain’t nopony askin the real question. If he wasn’t an alicorn before, how’d he turn intuh one?”

“The princess has answered that question several times,” Miss Apple patiently explains. “Be a good pony, help others, live by the tenets of Harmony, work really hard, and someday maybe one of you could be the next prince or princess.”

“That ain’t an answer,” the colt responds, rolling his eyes.

Cure notices Sapphire’s hoof shoot up in the air, her whole foreleg shaking violently back and forth to get the teacher’s attention. The small sigh from Miss Apple does not escape his notice. “Yes, Sapphire?”

“I know how to become an alicorn!” she eagerly declares. Cure is far less worried than he would be if anypony else was saying that. Instead he just turns in his desk to look at the filly.

About half the class is asking questions all at once, insisting she tell them what she knows. Nearly dancing with glee under the attention of everypony, Sapphire holds a hoof up in a lecturing tone, slowly nodding as if agreeing with herself. “You see, we were all in the capital for the Wonderbolts show when it happened.” Ferric rolls her eyes at her sister, but Dawn, Coast, and Rising each look like they’re about to leap out of their desks to tackle her.

Heavy reaches over and pokes Cure, then gives him a wide eyed stare while subtly waving at the girl. Cure just casually shrugs, indifference on full display and turns back to watch. “We all saw the big snake in the sky and it was super loud. But the really important part was before all that.

“Ya see, in order to become an alicorn, a really REAL alicorn,” she pauses only a second and continues in a conspiratorial stage whisper, “the super duper secret ingredient for alicornimogrificatioooon is…” she slowly drawls out, teasing out the answer to pull everypony in. It works on most of them; several of the other foals are listening intently with perked ears and stretched necks.

A gentle breeze would cause a domino effect with how far some are leaning to get closer. “... A BIG CREAM PIE!” she proudly shouts. Miss Apple’s jaw nearly hits the floor and she quickly draws breath to scold the filly who carries on undaunted. “Ya gotta trick the princess into throwin a pie at ya! That’s what does it!” she insists with a hoof chop. Groans fill the room as everypony sits back in their seats. Most of the foals are more disappointed at themselves for humoring the crazy filly as much as they are annoyed with her.

The girl continues despite the jeers and gripes the class is giving her. “Anypony the princess nails with a cream pie becomes a princess, or prince, themselves! The pie goes woooo,” she pantomimes both hooves flying through the air, “then SPLAT!” she shouts, punctuated with a facehoof, then she throws her hooves wide, “them you’re all like, ‘Blerg! I’ll have my vengeance!’ but then you’ll go all BOOM! Instant alicornificationhood.” Done with her explanation she folds her forelegs across her chest and gives a firm nod.

Cure looks at Heavy, raises a single brow, and waves a hoof at the girl. “Secret’s out, Heavy,” he whispers. “The princess just has to hit you with a pie. Wanna ask her next month? Maybe we can do a two-for-one coronation, bro.”

The gray colt scoffs and turns back to the front of the class where Miss Apple is trying to get everypony to refocus. “No way dude. If I need anything royal done I’ll just let you know.”

“Chicken,” Cure accuses.

“Smart,” Heavy counters. “Aren’t you supposed to be leaving soon?”

“Yep. Today’s the last day too. It was supposed to be a six month contract but with the Fridays I wasn’t available…”

“Ya gave them an extra month?”

“Depending on how you look at it, I guess. Last week was the twenty-sixth session, but I agreed to one more per group in exchange for a small favor.”

“They wanted a favor?” That seems surprising to Heavy. As far as he could tell his bro was, compared to what he normally charges, almost giving his services away.

“No,” Cure corrects. “I guess I didn’t word that the best. I asked them to do me a favor and going with ‘em today is more of a happy bonus. They’re basically gettin an extra two days with me for it.” He perks an ear and aims it at the door. “I think that’s my favor right now, in fact,” he quietly says, then raises his hoof and more loudly calls, “Miss Apple, I need to go!”

“Oh do you now?” she smugly asks. Tapping at her chin she continues, “Strange, I don’t recall you bringing me a note today, Cure.” She gives him a triumphant, smug look and shrugs helplessly. “No note, no early dismissal.”

“Really, Miss Apple?” he tiredly asks, “There’s literally three days of school left anyhow, what’s the big deal?”

“The big deal is that your arrangement ended last week. Unless you have a note or some-” a knock at the door causes her to stop mid sentence. Scowling at the disruption, Polished opens the door to Sgt. Song, out of armor, who quickly apologizes for interrupting before passing her a letter.

Cure can’t help but smirk victoriously as Miss Apple’s eyes widen while reading down the page. Opting to twist the knife a little, he calls out, “What’s it say, Miss Apple? Gonna share with the class?”

She stops her reading long enough to shoot him a glare and motions to the door. “Go on, Cure,” she growls through clenched teeth. Nearly the entire class is snickering quietly at the display.

As he packs up his bag, Heavy leans over asking, “Dude, what’d you do?”

He slings his saddlebags over his back, explaining, “Not much. Sgt. Bulwark just wrote an official order preventing anypony from interfering with my participation in Guard operations. Including training, which this very much is.” Grumbling, he adds, “Shoulda done that in November.”

Brows hiked clear into his mane, Heavy comments, “Seems a tad extreme, dude.”

Shrugging, Cure quietly points out, “I’ve been doin this almost every Friday for over seven months now. She’s been harassing me for a note every friggin time despite that. I’ll see ya later, dude,” he calls, reaching out and getting a hoofbump before giving the girls a goodbye wave and heading for the door.

He calls back to the teacher wishing her a good weekend before following Song out the door.

“Thanks for doin that, sarge. Seems a tad silly at this point but it probably saved me at least a few minutes of arguing with her.”

“No problem, Cure. By the way, a bunch of packages came for you.”

“Packages?”

She nods while humming, “Mmhmm. From her majesty. Were you expecting something?”

“Ah… the pictures! Awesome! Probably a good idea she had ‘em delivered to you guys.”

“Yeah, probably,” she easily agrees. “At the very least the mail pony would be curious why somepony was getting a dozen boxes from the royal castle.”

“They’re addressed to me?”

The worried tone prompts her to quickly reassure him, “They were packed inside another box addressed to Staff Sergeant Bulwark! It’s not uncommon to get packages from the castle, especially with all the,” she waves vaguely at him and then the train station with a hoof, “stuff going on.”

Cure blows out a sigh of relief as she continues, “The sergeant didn’t even realize the package was for you until he opened it. He was really confused when a small bush was delivered with it.”

“A… bush? For me? She didn’t say anything about a bush.”

“Mmhmm. Has some kinda dark berry on it. Nopony was dumb enough to taste it, given who it is addressed to, but they looked kinda like darker grapes.”

“... darker grapes?” he asks aloud in thought. “Oh! Blackcurrant!” The mare gives him a look of confusion at the seemingly random item. “She said they mess with other plants. I said I would see if I could figure out why. Glad she remembered ‘cause I totally forgot.”

“Ah. That makes sense.”

“I’ll hafta thank the sarge. It makes me feel kinda crappy; y’all didn’t sign on to serve as my friggin mail ponies, after all. At least everything else should go to my grandsire from now on.”

“Some things will have to come to us instead. I know he’s retired Guard, but he can’t receive anything considered ‘sensitive’ since he’s a civilian now. I can’t really imagine what you would be getting that would qualify, though. I doubt her majesty will be sending you weapons, for example.”

“Maybe a spell book. That is, if it has anything restricted in it.”

Song gains a faraway look as it registers, “You have access to restricted spells now.”

“I do. And I memorized quite a few of them with her in her sunroom. As far as runic spells are concerned I may be in the top few percent of ponykind. I need to learn how to fight hoof to hoof though. And maybe, at some point, I can find a lovely instructor that would be willing to teach me how to fight with wingblades. Alas, a colt can dream,” he sighs wistfully.

Song gives the colt the doubtful side eye. “Lovely, hmm?”

Cure looks to the pretty bat with confusion clearly evident on his face.

She gives him an indifferent shrug, explaining, “I’m just teasing you, Cure. You’ve got fillies from every other tribe chasing you, but I never see you spending time with any young bat fillies.”

“Well yeah,” he defends, “like I said when we started doing this whole thing, you were the first bat pony I’d ever met. All the girls I hang out with are friends that lived near me, went to school with me, or friends of friends, originally.”

She softens her look and nods in understanding. “I know, Cure. I really was just teasing you. I guess I shouldn’t, given how much pressure will be on you someday.” She leans over and gives him a quick nuzzle as they continue trotting to the station.

Cure can’t help but concede that, even if she wasn’t serious at all, she does have a point. As an alicorn prince when he eventually does go public it will certainly raise questions why one tribe is being excluded. Especially given that Glacial is a crystal pony; likely one of only a few dozen not banished away in the frozen north.

“You’re welcome to come to our junior guard training sessions. We do hoof to hoof and some basic weapon training. You would need a harness for the wooden practice blades, though. We have ones in your size for training young colts and fillies, but they’re designed for our wings. I don’t think the sticking enchantment we have works on feathers. I could see about borrowing one for your wings,” she mumbles as she drifts off in thought.

“I could change my wings or I could grow my own blades right out of them as they are now. I already know how to make a good bone-like substance that should work just fine.”

“Bone-like?”

“Yeah. I developed a bone analog that’s much tougher. It looks and feels like bone, but it’s almost as hard as diamond.”

“That’s… kinda awesome sounding.”

“Thanks! My parents didn’t think my whole Skeleton Lord armor set was a good idea, but if I used metal instead I wouldn’t be able to constantly heal it when it chips or breaks. At least, not easily.”

“Skeleton… Lord?”

Shrugging he explains, “Gotta name it something. Can’t be walking ‘round in custom made armor and not give it at least some kinda name.”

Song gives the colt a slightly wary look and suggests, “Maybe stick to just the blades for now, okay?”

“Oh, sure. The whole set’s only for really special occasions anyhow.” The comment causes her to inwardly pray she never gets to see it. Unaware of her silent divine plea, the colt questions, “Are the moves mostly the same with either wing type?”

The suggestion gets a thoughtful frown from the mare as she mulls it over. “Yeah, maybe there’s some difference in execution, but they’re the same moves. We just happen to be a little more maneuverable in the air,” she explains.

“The trade off being we don’t glide as well. All of the ground moves will be exactly the same, though. We do youth training classes every Saturday at four at the cloud gymnasium northwest of Baltimare. It’s attached to the community center there.”

“Yeesh. Four in the morning, I’m guessing?”

The question gets a chuckle from the mare as she nods. “Morning for you, maybe.”

“Just to be clear, you mean Saturday morning, not actually the day after… like, Sunday morning.”

“Yep,” she clarifies, “so after lifting today I’ll go home, eat a small meal, get cleaned up, take a long nap, then wake up, have breakfast, go on patrol, and then head over to the community center just north of the town hall building. The class wraps up just before dawn.”

“Jeez, sarge… that makes for an exhausting day, even with a nap in the mix.”

Shrugging, she points out, “That’s just kind of part of being nocturnal and living in a diurnal society. I get Saturday evenings off for volunteering.”

“Huh. How much are classes?”

“Free. The Guard sponsors them for recruitment purposes. All the trainers are guards or volunteers.”

“Cool. How’s the equipment?”

“Not bad. Again, it’s a Guard program so it gets crown funding. As I understand it, some rich colt out there was responsible for a pretty significant influx of bits into the town’s coffers this last quarter.” The hard stare the colt shoots her makes her snort out a laugh. She pokes him with her left wing and gives him a big teasing smile.

“Haze blabbed about that, huh?”

“He said it was a sore subject,” she says with a laugh. “Your sire also likes to tell the stories when he’s working out with Sgt. Bulwark and Pvt. Charge. Sounds like somepony kind of went a little crazy the first time, hmm?”

He shoots her an incredulous look and asks, “Did he tell you how much my first tax bill was?”

She instantly shakes her head no. “He just said it was a lot more than you expected.”

“My first bill was due at the end of March. It was for thirty-six grand,” he pauses as the mare’s head whips his direction, causing her right forehoof to clip her left and her to stumble slightly. Her wings shoot out and give a quick flap to catch her as Cure just watches in amusement. Once she recovers he continues on, “The one due at the end of June is nearly one and a half times as much.”

Looking like she just bit into the sourest lemon ever, Song curses under her breath at a pitch too high for normal hearing. “I heaaard that,” he teases, singing the phrase out with a big, shit-eating grin while wiggling his ears. Song’s eyes widen comically at being called out before he reminds her, “Not just a regular earth pony, sarge. Such naughty language!”

“Your quarterly taxes are as much as my annual salary!” she hisses.

“That’s about what Haze said when I first complained,” Cure agrees. “My second quarter earnings are a lot lower so far,” he notes. “I’ve been taking more time off for this, that, and the other over the last month and a half. And, of course, I’ll be unavailable most of June.”

“Poor thing,” she sarcastically replies with a scoff.

“Says the mare that gets my services for free. Ya know, if you and your family want more foals, or even just a whole group of colts, you just gotta say the word. With how few colts there are in general I would assume it hits the bat community extra hard… your population bein kinda lower than the other tribes and all.”

“It’s a significant problem,” she readily agrees. “But I thought that stuff was all supposed to be confidential.”

“I meant more just for you and your family than for everypony. For now, at least. I made a tree that produces medicine to massively increase the odds of a colt. Right now it’s in the testing phases. The princess said it’s looking very promising, though.”

“Really? Any word on when it’ll be available?”

“No. If they want to see how healthy a colt is that’s conceived using it then it could be a year or more. I guess that’s not really too far out, given the nature of the thing. For any guards or their spouses I’ll give ‘em the direct application at the start of estrus if they’re interested.”

“Like you did Wa… err… Cpl. Flare?”

“I will neither confirm nor deny that Cpl. Flare or his wife are patients of mine.”

She gives him a flat look and reminds him, “Cure… don’t you remember what Bulwark said? She already all but told everypony.”

“And she can,” he quickly agrees. “I won’t though. My reputation can either be impeccable or it can not be. Given how much a pony has to trust somepony with a talent like mine it needs to be basically flawless.”

“I… guess I can see that,” she concedes. “Is that the real reason you didn’t hurt any of those creatures?”

“Mmnnnot really,” he answers. “I mean, it certainly stopped me from, oh…” he pauses to think for a moment, tilting his head back and forth, “I dunno, turning off their taste buds completely. Or, making everything taste like whatever horrible thing you can think of. Even if it was something good, imagine having one flavor the rest of your life.”

Song cringes at the suggestion, but Cure continues despite her reaction. “That doesn’t even cover inflicting legitimate health problems. I could, basically, give somepony severe osteoporosis. Or cripple their immune system, blind them, amp up their pain sensitivity, or do some truly awful stuff to their brain.” He pauses to glance to his right and finds the mare staring at him in abject horror.

“And that’s exactly the look I would expect. Now, how would you feel about somepony that did something like that laying a hoof on your foals, even just to heal them?”

Song winces, but begrudgingly nods in understanding. “I suppose I would be a little worried unless I already knew the pony otherwise.”

“Exactly.”

“Maybe you could suggest they involve Hollow Shades in the testing. Or at least, for initial release if it’s being staggered,” she suggests. “We are the smallest tribe by a wide margin, the city isn’t far if they need you to fix something, and it has one of the biggest communities of bat ponies in the country. At least, relatively speaking.”

“I’m all for it,” he easily agrees. “I can tell the princess about the suggestion at least. I dunno how hooves-on she is with that project, but at the very least I could ask.”

The pair continue on until the station comes into sight just a moment later. As they’re about to enter, Cure pauses and asks, “If I came to your place around three thirty would you be okay with me tagging along to that training? I think my parents would be okay with it as long as I had an adult flying with me. I won’t slow ya down, promise.”

Song’s smile brightens at the suggestion and she eagerly nods. “Of course, Cure. In fact, if you’d like, you can come over this evening before it gets dark. I could introduce you to everypony, then wake you up before it’s time to go.”

“I think I met everypony back when I was doing the membrane thing, but that sounds fantastic. You sure you don’t mind?”

“Not at all.”

“Wait!” he calls, causing her to freeze on the spot. “They all know I’m an earth pony,” he reminds her.

Song facehooves and lets out a groan. “Duh! Okay, I can come get you instead. I mean, you could go in one of your disguises but…” she trails off with a shrug.

“Then they’d be asking why some random pony is coming over. Right.” He sighs and shakes his head, “Secret identities are a pain in the rear. Is your whole family going to be there?”

“Ebony will be going there after school lets out. Why?”

“Two reasons; I wasn’t sure if you needed to fly there with them, and, again, the whole disguise thing. Ebony is your youngest, right? I only met her once.”

“Mmhmm. She’s a little younger than Thunder’s daughter. She goes there with a few other fillies right after class is done. As for the disguise… Why don’t you go as Serpentus? We can head over together, you duck out of sight and change your appearance, then you can go in. I’ll show up a few minutes later. Since it’ll still be dark out it should be easy to pull it off. It’ll be almost dawn by the time we’re done, so flying home shouldn’t be a problem at all.”

Slowly nodding, Cure tentatively agrees. “It sounds… like a great idea, actually. I can’t think of any reason not to, at least. Assuming my parents are okay with it, that is.” Cure makes a mental note to send Drift and Wind a message later. He’s pretty sure neither will be interested in getting up at three thirty in the morning, so it shouldn’t be a problem. It would also be more than a little suspicious if two new pegasus fillies showed up the same day that the new alicorn suddenly popped in.

Tentative plan in place, the two head into the station and make their way to the usual meeting spot.

Saturday, May 23rd, 909 AB (three fifteen in the morning)

It had taken more than a little convincing for Vines to allow Cure to join the session. His sire’s reassurance that the colt will be fine under the care of Shadow Song was the only reason she even entertained the idea, and that didn’t stop her from insisting he Send her messages after he gets to the park, when Song shows up, when they arrive, and when he’s leaving.

It’s excessively overprotective given his capabilities, not to mention alleged immortality, but given his youth and the recent incident he can’t fault her for worrying. He’s just thankful that Sending gives him an easy way to assure his dam of his safety.

Cure has used teleport a fair amount, but the half kilometer he can squeeze out of the mid-high crystal is farther than he’s ever gone in one jump. The park is, unfortunately, slightly more than a half kilometer away. He’d spent a few minutes finding a suitable “landing” spot, but had no success locating anywhere that is within range and is somewhat secluded.

The other large problem is the flash that occurs when the longer range teleport spell goes off. In the middle of the day it wouldn’t be terribly noticeable. At three thirty in the morning every set of eyes in the sky for dozens of kilometers will notice right away.

No, teleporting isn’t going to be the solution here. Instead, this situation calls for stealth.

Done with her shift and finally out of her armor, Shadow Song swoops down for a landing in the park. There’s enough light from the moon that the area is well lit and, to her eyes, it might as well be the middle of the day. She glances around the night sky and is unsurprised to find nopony flying around this early, so there’s no way Cure will be spotted when he pops in.

Really, the whole secret identity thing probably isn’t going to last a month. In the Baltimare metropolitan area, suburbs included, there’s a little under eighty thousand ponies. Remove mares from that and the number falls to somewhere around fifteen thousand colts and stallions. Exclude the other tribes and about nine thousand earth pony males are left.

The big, distinguishing slices happen next, though. Of those nine thousand only maybe three or four hundred are Serpentus’ approximate age. Next, how many of those four hundred have their cutie marks already? Fifty, at the absolute most given the young age, Song figures. Finally, how many of those fifty how many have known talents that have nothing to do with healing at all? She would bet the colt’s tax bill that leaves only one and, lo and behold, the one exception has a cutie mark that’s almost identical to the disguised prince.

A month is probably exceedingly generous, even. The real question is, what will happen once ponies start camping outside his house and harassing his family? Is BRG3 going to be an unofficial private guard unit specifically for his highness? Guarding a royal’s family is a highly prestigious position, but it requires a dedicated team with specialized training. Training, not to mention extra bodies, that they simply lack.

The idle thoughts slip from her mind when a tiny “mew” sounds out and a fluffy black kitty hops out of a tree, slinks up to Song, and head bonks into her left foreleg, purring up a storm. “Well, you’re a friendly one, aren’t you?” she mildly observes. She runs a hoof down the kitten’s back, chuckling as it arches up and leans harder into the scritches.

After only a few pets she pauses and looks around, letting out a high-pitched chirp and listening for any response. When none comes she looks down at the cat who perked an ear and turned to face her. “Perfect timing,” she mumbles, “I didn’t get a chance to grab a bite after my shift.” She licks her chops and stares into the cat’s eyes, continuing, “And you have plenty of meat on you, don’t you, mister kitty cat?”

“Whut?” the baffled cat asks, eyes widening as Song’s smile turns toothier.

The disguised colt backs away as she spreads her wings and lowers herself to pounce, booty wiggling in the air and all. “C’mere, kitty cat. Song has a lullaby for you! And it’s best heard from within my belly!”

Song pounces at the baffled colt-kitten tackling him to the ground. It takes far, far more effort to do so than it would if she were dealing with a normal cat, which confirms her suspicion that the critter is who she expected him to be. She quickly rolls him to his back and gives his less fluffy belly a raspberry, leaving him a thrashing, giggly mess between her hooves.

“AHH HAHA! STAWP! I GIVE!” he cries, finally getting his rear paws on her chin enough to push her off.

She hops away and laughs at the grouchy foal. “Thunder Dance told me about the bunny thing,” she smugly explains as he rolls back over and gives her a weak glare.

“Bah! The traitor!” he complains halfheartedly.

“She said it was about the most disturbingly adorable thing she’s ever seen,” she goes on. “She didn’t say anything about shrinking yourself, though. Nice touch. Now hurry and change; you’re going to make us late.”

“Fine!” he grumbles, releasing the Reduce spell and starting the process of changing back.

Song watches as he gradually transforms from a very convincing cat, albeit a larger one without the spell, to a pegasus pony. The process is quick and the colt has clearly done this enough times with an audience that he can do it without causing revulsion like one would expect from watching somepony literally grow new limbs out of their back.

The strangest part is when his fur meshes together to form a dark colored flight suit. It looks rather plain to Song, but she supposes that’s the point for now.

Cure finishes changing then stills for a few seconds, looking off in the distance. It’s a look she’s become familiar with since the briefing on the Sending crystals Dawn has been steadily providing to the sergeants across the Baltimare metropolitan area. The colt shoots her a sheepish grin and gives her a nod. “Ready to go, sarge.”

“Alright, c’mon. Just maybe try not to be too informal when we get there. Somepony will realize something’s up otherwise.”

“Sure thing, Sgt. Song,” he readily agrees.

“Follow close. I don’t know how much you’ve flown at night, but I’m guessing very little,” she commands. At his nod she turns to face the east, Cure following close on her left, spreads her wings, gives a quick two-step hop, and takes to the air in her wake. Song rapidly gains altitude; much faster than he normally does. She only levels off once they’re a couple hundred meters off the ground.

Tilting her head slightly towards her left to talk, she explains, “Unless there’s a good reason not to, it’s typically safer to get up to a decent altitude ASAP. It’s not a big deal around here, but it’s especially important if you’re not familiar with the area. I’m guessing you can hear the clicks?”

“I can, but I’ve not practiced echolocating much.”

Nodding, she suggests, “Practice it. Don’t get in the habit of only trusting your eyes at night. If it’s cloudy out you may end up grounded. Echolocation works much better in conditions like fog, too.”

“Sure. Sounds neat anyhow. Any tips?”

“Not really. Practice, practice, practice. Don’t only practice in one environment either; surfaces respond differently depending on what they’re made of. The return from a leaf is very different from the one from a building. Different temperatures, humidity, wind speeds, and other factors all have an impact.”

“Cool. I’ll hafta give it a whirl.”

Giving the colt a small nod, Song turns back and leads the pair east by northeast towards Baltimare’s cloud district. They slowly climb, mostly following the train tracks far below. Cure can’t help but smile as he looks down on the world. Luna’s moon illuminates his hometown, casting long, eerie shadows on most of the buildings. Only the downtown area, mostly centered around the train station and Town Hall, are illuminated by dim crystal lamps.

The Golden Hills cloud district looms to the north a few hundred meters higher; the southern and western sides glow in hues of silver and blue. As they approach the eastern edge of the city a pair of bats in guard armor change course to intercept. Once within a few dozen meters they recognize their CO, give a friendly wave, and veer off, circling south towards the woods and pond.

Cure notices the sergeant starting to gain a lead on him. A quick glance, a small smirk, and a wink over her shoulder tells him it’s on. Pumping his wings harder, he begins picking up speed. He casts an Armor spell to reduce drag and amps up his magic to his flight muscles, increasing thrust power on each beat.

The question of how to hold his legs is always on his mind when he flies. The optimal strategy would be to fold them up close to his body to minimize drag. Most ponies, however, tend to fly in either the Superman, hooves-forward position with their hind legs back or they just let them kind of dangle.

Flying in the ponyloaf position, while seemingly the most efficient, just looks weird. There’s also the fact that, while not terribly useful, at least in the Superman position his hooves are in front of his face, if only by a little. Shooting across the dark sky at a hundred mph is bad enough; doing so face-first just feels like asking for Murphy to stop by and say hello.

At least the flight suit mitigates one of the biggest problems he had with flying this way; it keeps his junk from flopping about, dangling underneath him like a fleshy weather vane. Cure has reacclimated to pony culture since Edward’s memories landed on him, but he’s not sure there will ever come a time when a pegasus hovering in front of him, goods right at eye level, doesn’t cause at least a small misfire somewhere in his brain.

Casting thoughts of flying testicles from his mind, Cure smiles as Song’s lead begins to rapidly diminish. The mare must be able to hear his wingbeats; the closer he gets, the harder she pumps away. Bat wings are great for acceleration; they scoop huge amounts of air in each downswing. Unfortunately that means on the upswing, even though it is lessened, they still tend to grab more air than a pegasus’s wings, which can allow the air to pass through them in a way that a solid membrane cannot.

Cure suspects there’s more to it, though. From his limited experience testing different wing configurations with the girls he’s come to the conclusion that creatures with membranous wings can fly as fast, or faster, than pegasi. Wind resistance is the ultimate deciding factor in everything.

Despite his numerous times suggesting it would be his earth pony strength being the biggest advantage, he has come to the conclusion that, despite the increased strength helping immensely, it’s his control over the air pressure in his immediate vicinity that’s his biggest advantage.

Another huge advantage Cure has is the ability to alter his feather orientation and placement as he chooses. This allows him to more effectively slice through the air on the upswing, then grab huge wingfuls of air on the downswing. The combination of his strength, aura cheats, armor spell, proportionally larger wings, and perfect muscle control make it so that, in a straight line, only the princess or somepony with a mark would be able to compete with him in raw speed.

Doing her best to give Cure a run for his money, Song furiously pumps her wings. She reaches forward on each beat, swiftly grabbing wingfuls of air and flexing as hard as she can to throw it behind her, all the while keeping an ear tilted back to monitor the colt’s progress. Slightly stinging her pride, it quickly becomes apparent that, no matter how hard she tries, she won’t be able to outspeed the foal.

She risks a glance over her shoulder and finds him almost lazily flapping, easily keeping pace with her. Slowing slightly, she takes a second to meet his smugly smiling face with a scowl. “I’m cheating,” he says in answer to the unspoken question. At her raised brow he elaborates, explaining his TK aura, armor, unending stamina, and all the other small things he’s doing to propel himself forward so effortlessly.

“You stink,” she complains, huffing and facing forwards again.

“I smell like cookies,” he teasingly argues. Rolling her eyes, Song doesn’t deign to respond, instead focusing on the Baltimare cloud district still a few kilometers away. “Want me to give you a refresh?”

Sighing to herself, she mutters a quick “Sure” and relaxes into a more sedate pace. A thought occurs to her and she turns her head back, eyes widening at what she sees. “You… how’d you do that without a horn?!”

He rolls his forelegs over in a small shrug and explains, “Earth ponies, and I bet pegasi, don’t actually have to be touching to use magic. The range is very short, though. Less than two meters. If we had to be touching something to help it grow then how could we ever affect seeds in the soil?”

“Huh. Hadn’t considered that,” she mumbles, facing forwards again.

“I bet pegasi can do something like that too,” he continues. “It’s probably just not as useful since, ya know… yer not buryin clouds before you do your thing. Lemme ask ya; do you sleep on a cloud mattress?”

“Yeah… I think everypony with wings does.”

“Straight on the cloud or on top of a sheet or somethin?”

“You can do either, but I prefer laying on a blanket.”

“So you’re not actually touching the cloud?”

Realization dawns on the mare and she lets out another thoughtful utterance. “Guess I never thought about it,” she admits.

The pair fly for another minute in silence, gaining altitude so they’re well above the height of the nearing neighborhood. Another pair of bat pegasus guards approach in a wide arc, alighting on Song’s right. “BRG3. Sergeant Song. Headed to junior guard exercises,” she tells them. The pair give the colt a quick glance, shoot her a salute, wish them a good evening, and brake right to continue their patrol.

“Seems weird we’ve gotten approached by two patrols now. Is something up?” he asks. He glances towards Baltimare; while there’s not a lot of activity, even from a distance he can spot several civilian bat ponies going about their morning.

“It’s because you have feathers,” she answers. “A lone mare flying with a colt that doesn’t appear to be her foal would draw my attention too. That it’s three thirty in the morning doesn’t help. They may have been curious when they saw us racing, too.”

“Ah. Are all these guards gonna remember you were escorting a muscular pegasus the same night the new prince shows up?” Cringing, she can’t help but agree that it is a concern. “I think maybe I should just go with my normal pegasus disguise, sarge. If I walk in there with a horn on it’s gonna be real easy to figure out where I live.”

“How are you going to make wing blades then?” she asks.

“Ahh… fudge,” he groans out. The pair fly in silence for a moment until Cure finally speaks up. “I guess I’ll just have to roll the dice,” he finally decides. “This is going to be a pain in the rear every damn time, isn’t it?”

“I honestly can’t imagine you’ll make it to the end of the year,” she confesses. “I give it, probably, a couple months at best. After the whole… thing… with the lieutenant every guard in the city got an extremely serious ‘talk’ about maintaining your identity, so they may not be a concern. But…”

He sighs, nodding in acceptance as they finally start approaching the cloud district proper. It’s the first time Cure has flown over one under his own power aside from the couple blocks that make up the one in Golden Hills.

It’s still overwhelmingly a residential area, but there are several shops, some of which are even open and lit with a few dim Light crystals. A grocery, a small diner, and a general store stand out prominently, if only due to the movement of bat ponies and a few pegasi visiting them. Surprisingly, many of the buildings are actual buildings, not cloud construction.

He can only hypothesize that businesses, particularly any that require more security, are made of solid materials to make it more difficult for any would-be intruder, but it makes more sense to him to build those on the ground instead. A kilometer round trip, even if half of it would be upwards, is a very short endeavor, after all, so the inconvenience of having to fly down to the city proper doesn’t seem enough to justify the more logistically challenging location, not to mention the significantly reduced number of potential customers.

After a brief visual scan of the area, Cure follows Song’s eyes to a building that must be the community center. Though made of clouds, the building configuration reminds him of a smaller YMCA with a normal looking front door, lobby area that has smaller rooms lining the front to the left of the lobby.

To the right is a taller structure, likely the gymnasium where the class will be held. The entrance is well lit with Light crystals embedded directly into the surface and a few on cloud-made light posts nearby. A couple dozen ponies are already gathering by the front door; families dropping off their foals as best he can tell.

Finding a spot to duck between buildings and change is not a problem. There’s more light than Cure had anticipated due to the moonlight bouncing off clouds and the occasional crystal lighting a doorstep. He calls to Song and points to a closed store, getting a quick nod in return before banking in that direction.

There’s not much in the way of plant life in the clouds; no trees or even large bushes would likely have enough room to take root, but he’s able to break line of sight with anypony else easily enough by rounding the corner of the apparel shop and casting Invisible on himself. “Go ahead, I’ll teleport to the entrance in a minute,” he tells her.

Initially a little reluctant to leave him, she hesitates for a moment after he disappears. She turns and takes off to traverse the remaining short distance to the center. Song lands and approaches the other families that are bringing their foals, as well as several that are coming on their own from school; her own daughter included.

Cure had only met Ebony Foil once, back when he was giving nictitating membranes to several of the bat families from Golden Hills. He’d encouraged everypony to spread the word; any bat can either make an appointment or show up at his job and he’ll take care of them for free.

Song’s youngest filly shares her mother’s navy coat, but her mane, wings, and tail are silver instead of her dam’s dark wine color. The filly is apparently quite shy; even though she has two and a half years on Cure she barely mumbled out a quiet “thanks” before the family departed.

Upon seeing her dam land, Ebony trots over and greets her with a nuzzle, turning to lean against her side as the pair start moving towards the entrance. They only move a few steps before a bright flash illuminates the east side of the building, opposite any houses to minimize the chance of disturbing anypony’s sleep.

All heads immediately whip to their right as Cure comes trotting around the corner, slowing as he approaches due to the twenty-odd sets of eyes gawking at the alicorn colt. He comes to a stop about ten meters away from the group and looks over everpony. He’d altered the colors of his suit from the darker brown to a striking gold, matching the highlights in his mane, tail, and wings. His new cutie mark is emblazoned on his flanks in solid black, just over top of his actual marks.

Awkwardly, he waves his right wing in greeting and calls out, “Uhh… hi, everypony. Good… morning? I guess? Technically?” The silence drags on for a few seconds, causing Cure to uncomfortably shift on his hooves. “I was under the impression there’s a youth’s defense training session,” he says with a questioning lilt.

One of the only stallions present, a charcoal colored bat pegasus, nods and speaks up. “There is. We’re just about to head in, your… highness?” he finishes in question, briefly glancing at a mare standing nearby. She shrugs and the pair look back to the colt. Once the quiet is dispelled several of the other ponies start conversing in hushed whispers, obviously unsure how to react to his presence.

“Not yet,” Cure assures him, making his way closer to the group. “Just Serpentus until next month.”

“Second Lieutenant Silver Streak,” the stallion replies, introducing himself.

“A pleasure. Do I need to do anything to participate? I was hoping to learn, ya know… just in case.”

He gives the colt an understanding look, then turns his head right, meeting Song’s eyes as he flicks his left wing towards the building. “I think Drop has everything set up. Could you ask her to see if we have a pegasus harness?”

“No need,” Cure interjects. “I just need to see one and I can reproduce a facsimile or something to fit myself.”

Silver furrows his brow in thought, then shrugs in acceptance. “Alright… well, there’s forms for parents normally,” the stallion pauses, letting a small sigh escape him as he changes gears. “Everypony, let’s head in!” he commands over his shoulder. “Come on, Serpentus. I’ll get you set up,” he adds, turning to follow everypony in. Cure follows along, trotting alongside Silver on his right as they enter the building.

They make their way past the lobby, through a set of double doors (made of solid clouds, he notes), and into the gymnasium. Another twenty students and several other parents are already there waiting, as are two ponies on the floor standing near equipment racks full of padding, helmets, wooden practice weapons, and wing-shaped harnesses of various sizes.

They all repeat everypony else’s “freeze and gawk” performance from earlier. Accepting that this will just be how ponies initially react, Cure doesn’t pay them much mind. He sticks by Silver as he approaches the other instructors to explain the colt’s presence, Song joining the pair on the stallion’s left.

While they chat Cure meanders in a circle around the adults, taking in the room. The interior is surprisingly well lit with rows of lights in diffusing fixtures down the length of the building. A bulletin board near the entrance has duplicates of several notices he’d seen, but didn’t have time to read, displayed in the lobby. Two that immediately catch his eye give the times and dates for the class he’s here for, along with one for day pegasi at three in the afternoon each Saturday.

That Song hadn’t mentioned the class is a little disappointing. She’s not absentminded enough to have not thought about it, so he can only assume she intentionally neglected to do so for some reason. The tease about not having a bat fillyfriend and the mention of her daughter being present leads him to only one conclusion. Only a conscious choice keeps his ears from folding back when the realization sets in.

Sighing internally, he continues looking about. There isn’t any wooden or metal furniture at all, though along the walls are random free floating clouds that several parents immediately take wing to perch on, joining the others already present in more hushed conversations.

Cure can tell he’s the only topic they’re discussing; the dozen parents are hardly subtle with how frequently they look in his direction, quickly turning back like a caught misbehaving child when he meets their eyes.

The foals aren’t much better, though it’s easier to accept that they wouldn’t know better than to stare so brazenly. They begin suiting up, only putting on the harnesses and weapons for now, talking amongst themselves while stealing glances in his direction or, in some cases, flat out staring at him like he’s some kind of zoo exhibit.

In a way, he’s not really sure what the big deal is. Sure, he’s one of only two alicorns in existence, as far as they know. On the other hoof, he isn’t some towering behemoth like Celestia is, relative to most ponies. He doesn’t have her room-dominating presence or her eye-catching ethereal glow. Visually, he’s just a wider, more muscular, unusually colorful pegasus colt, just with an extra accessory on his forehead.

He’s not even doing anything; just walking around, looking about the gym like anypony else would. He certainly understands everypony being curious, but watching him longer won’t encourage him to reveal his secrets, do a trick, or even start dancing. The five minutes of unblinking staring that some ponies are doing is just bizarre.

Mentally rolling his eyes, he observes the foals as they prepare for the class. An immediate oddity stands out. The gender ratio is far more heavily skewed than expected; of the twenty eight students only two other colts are present. Both look to be nearly adults, though due to their tribe are only a few hooves taller than he is. He knows that bat pony colts are born at the same rate as the other tribes, so he can only assume there’s some other reason for the proportional lack of male attendance.

Moving on from the foals, his focus is drawn back to the instructors. A couple mothers had flown down to join their quiet conversation when he wasn’t paying attention. Turning up his hearing slightly, he catches their increasingly enthusiastic argument, which is gradually slipping from mostly tones outside of normal pony hearing into typical auditory ranges as it heats up.

A throat clear stops the argument as six heads swivel his direction. “I… uhh, could hear all of that,” he explains, waving a hoof vaguely in their direction. He wiggles his ears as he continues, “Alicorn, remember? Not a typical pegasus. I’m not here to be matched up with somepony’s daughter,” he insists, facing the suddenly abashed looking parents. With a look of utter disappointment, he continues, “I’m here to learn how to protect myself if my magic is disabled, not… that.”

The mares cringe and dip their heads, apologizing before slinking away to rejoin the other parents. He catches a mocking “told ya so” from one of the ones that didn’t come down and another light argument starts from there. He also notes a slight widening of Song’s eyes at his rebuke, which he interprets as confirmation of his suspicion.

Silver nudges Cure’s shoulder with a wingtip and tilts his head towards the safety equipment. “I’ll work with you myself for today. We normally do one-on-one with new participants anyhow. You won’t need padding or a helmet today, but let’s see about setting you up with some practice stuff and getting started, okay?”

Cure readily agrees, following the stallion to the equipment racks while everypony else lines up in four spread out rows in front of Song and the other two instructors. The group begins a set of drills; katas, essentially, some of which are performed in the air. It’s fascinating to watch how effortlessly even the foals lift off, perform a move or set of moves, then land almost right back where they started.

Though they’re foals, they do so with a surprising amount of synchronization that he is certain he would initially botch in a horribly embarrassing manner. Silver, unaware of his rumination, looks back and forth between the colt and the remaining harnesses trying to determine how to proceed. A light cough draws Cure’s attention back to the stallion. “Sorry. Was distracted. It’s quite the impressive display,” he admits.

“It is,” Silver agrees as he points at the rack. “We need to get you geared up, though. You said you can do… well, something, to make a set of your own?”

“Right,” he agrees, “I also don’t need padding other than a helmet. Healing is part of my talent and I’m way tougher than a pegasus could possibly be. As far as the whole blade thing,” he trails off, extending his wing up.

On both wings he absorbs the leading edge of feathers and skin while he thickens the bone underneath. He extends the bone all the way down past his first set of primaries and continues it up each wing, past the joint, and towards the center of his back. To counter the necromancer vibe of bone armor, he alters the outside layer slightly to add a golden pigmentation, leaving the edge rounded, then inserts crystal dust particles, spreading a Hardening enchantment down the length originating from a crystal between his shoulder blades.

The powder gains a light blue glow when the enchantment activates, giving the entire piece an intimidating look that isn’t much alleviated by the color or rounded edge. A few test flaps and a rotation of the joint reveals some points that limit mobility, but adding some cartilage in those spots for flexibility and reducing the thickness of the bone solves that issue. It only takes a moment for him to have a full-length, though blunt, wingblade, ready to go.

Cure looks up for his work to find not only Silver staring, but everypony else as well. “Uhh… ta da?” he says with absolutely zero enthusiasm. Ignoring the stares, he focuses on the dark stallion and asks, “Will these work?” while waving his wing in front of him to pull him out of his trance.

Snapping back to awareness, Silver gives him a slow nod. “Yeah… that should be fine. Normally only the last quarter of the wing is covered so the wing can flex without risking a break, but I’m guessing yours can take a harder hit.” He finishes and gives the other instructors a look, motioning for them to get the group refocused back on their drills.

“Earth pony resilience,” Cure agrees, “I could probably dent steel with these.”

Silver grimaces at the thought of trying to parry or block a blow with that much force behind it. “If you come enough to start sparring you’ll have to be careful with the others.” Satisfied that the colt is appropriately clad, Silver motions for him to follow a little ways away from everypony else. “Okay, so what experience do you have with melee combat?”

“Almost none. I’ve wrestled with my sire a few times and got in a little scuffle once with a bully when I was an earth pony, but that’s it.” Edward had several memories from his younger years, but the experiences as a plantigrade, bipedal creature will probably not translate quite right.

“Okay. A blank slate, then,” Silver mumbles approvingly. “The first thing we need to practice is how to move and keep your balance primarily on your hind legs. If you’re on the ground facing somepony that’ll maximize your options, even if it does present more of your chest and barrel. More importantly, it puts some distance between your opponent and your face.”

Silver takes a half step away, half-squatting and lifting his wings up nearly forty five degrees from parallel with the ground, half folded, while continuing. His left hind leg is slightly more forward and his forelegs are close to his chest, ready to kick forward or deflect an incoming blow. “This is the basic starting stance. Are you a righty or a lefty?”

The stance looks a little awkward from the perspective of somepony with memories of a bipedal being, but aside from the fact the stallion looks like he’s preparing to drop a deuce he seems otherwise prepared to move in any direction, including up.

“Fully ambidextrous. I used to be a righty before I got my talent. My muscle control is off the charts, though,” he answers, rearing back and matching the stance perfectly. “Unicorns have an aura that lets them ‘see’ an area around them. If you’re okay with it, I can also use my talent on you while you go through stances and moves. I’ll be able to duplicate them perfectly.”

“Really? That’s insane.” He comes back to all fours and walks around Cure analyzing his form.

Cure nods in agreement. “It is. I learned basic flight in a few hours one morning. One of my fillyfriends let me scan her while walking me through everything and giving demonstrations.”

“That’s fantastic. I’m going to test your balance. Try to stay still upright and mostly still,” he warns before gently nudging Cure one direction or another. Cure has an iron grip on the floor and has shifted enough weight to his rear that he doesn’t move at all. “Huh. Very good. I’m fine with you using your talent.

“You’ll still need practice actually sparring, but if you can master the basics that’ll save you months of work. I’m a little concerned you may end up hurting somepony due to the strength difference, though.”

“Maybe if I only spar with instructors or older foals?” Cure suggests. “Also, if an accident happens I’m a healer, so no problem there.”

“Ah. Okay. The height difference may be an issue, but otherwise that would work.” Cure casts Enlarge, increasing his height by half again as much and nearly perfectly matching the dark stallion. Taken aback momentarily, Silver pauses in thought before slowly nodding in approval. “Well… problem solved. I kind of forgot about magic,” he confesses.

“Understandable,” Cure concedes, noting how several of the others are watching him again. The parents have, for the most part, never stopped, so he does his best to continue ignoring them and rears back up onto his hind legs. “So, Sensei Silver,” he smirks as the stallion mouths the unfamiliar term, “how bout you show me some cool moves?”

Silver can’t help but shake his head as he watches the colt. An hour. A little over a single hour and he’s gone from no experience whatsoever to somepony that looks like he’s been doing this for years. It’s unnecessary to have him practicing the moves, Silver reflects, but at the same time he’s not really sure what else to do with him and class is almost over anyhow.

Serpentus should be fine to spar with others if he comes to future classes. He had shown he could moderate his strength just fine, even in a brief practice grappling spar the two had. The problem is he’s strong enough that, even when he lacks the experience to know how to respond to a move, he can simply barrel through it with raw power.

Few things could possibly damage this pride more than having an inexperienced colt not even ten years old pick him up, flip him over, slam him down, and pin him in place. The “whoof” noise he made when the air was blasted out of his lungs didn’t help, nor did the cheers and impressed whistles from literally every pony in the building who had paused to watch. Which was, of course, every single pony present.

The worst part? Somepony evidently spread the word that the new prince was there. An extra few dozen bats and pegasi showed up just to watch, and more than one bright flash from a camera went off when the colt laid him out. He can only hope his eyes weren’t bulging out too much; he would bet a paycheck that those pictures are going to be on the front page of every paper in the nation soon.

With the other instructors wrapping up, Serpentus stops his repetitions, flares his large, angular wings, and begins changing them to their typical state while releasing his Enlarge spell. A few more flashes go off, causing the colt’s ears to pin, tail to droop, and wings to sag for a split second; a reaction that doesn’t escape Silver’s notice. In a way, he pities the colt. Sure, becoming an alicorn prince or princess is a storytime fantasy for many foals; dealing with the consequences of it happening is looking more like a punishment.

Silver is just about to go have a word with the responsible ponies when the colt apparently has the same idea, turning towards and approaching the group that seems to be reporters. Unwilling to risk the new prince losing his patience or slipping up, he’s just about to rush over to lend a hoof as best he can, though as he catches the colt’s answer he realizes that his concern appears to be unnecessary.

“... appreciate the time the volunteers commit to working with the young ponies that will someday ensure all of us can rest easy every night. As a former earth pony, I’ve had virtually no opportunity to interact much with ponies that are more comfortable at night, which is why I came to the morning session; a chance to become better acquainted with them and learn a valuable skill at the same time.

“And, candidly speaking, to avoid this,” he waves at the cameras, “kind of scenario. I understand that everypony is curious about me, but I imagine the parents of these and other interested foals would prefer the focus be on learning rather than… Well, this. I know reporters need to earn a living as well, but I think it’s fair to ask that consideration is also given to the impacted ponies that would surely prefer to go about their days, or nights, as normal.

“I appreciate you all coming out just to see me, and I acknowledge that this is a public venue in which all are welcome, but at this point I would ask that any further questions be directed through the proper channels and my privacy as an individual be respected, as her majesty has requested. Thank you.”

His piece said, the young princeling turns and makes his way back to Silver and the other staring instructors, leaving the stupefied reporters looking on in shock. “Colt,” Drop begins, “where in the world did you learn to talk like that?!”

“What?” he responds, low enough not to be overheard, “You mean kiss flank, lightly criticize them, and give them almost nothing useful all at the same time?” The mare takes a second to process the question and slowly nods. “You pick things up when you hang out with her majesty for a little,” he misleadingly answers. “So before I leave, if anypony has anything wrong with them, be it a cavity, a sports injury, or something far more serious, I can probably fix it real quick, assuming the parents are okay with that.”

“I’m hooooome! Finally!” Cure calls with a huff while trotting in the door. The family still hasn’t moved to their new house, though it had only taken a day to get the legally binding paperwork together and the eviction notice was served at the same time.

The mare that had been, sort of, conned into “renting” their house will move into Amethyst and Lemon’s house at the end of the month. Starting June first, his family will finally take possession of their new home. Cure had gone through and made all the same repairs and upgrades as their own home, so the mare had no objection as long as she can still access the garden for food.

Their attorney wasn’t nearly as sympathetic to the alleged victim. She had several good points; the lease may have been wholesale fake, the mare may refuse to leave or pay rent at the end of November, or she could do who-knows-what to the house in the meantime.

They’re all valid worries that a typical landlord should be very concerned about. None of them bother Cure or his parents much at all though, mainly due to the family’s current financial situation and his capabilities. They don’t have a buyer or a renter lined up for the house, so collecting no income from it for six or more months doesn’t hurt them. If she damages the property, short of burning it to the ground, Cure can Mend or use his plant to fix it up in an hour or two.

The ultimate goal of getting her out of their new house quickly is the only thing they’re worried about, so if she crops up as a problem come December first they can deal with her easily enough then. Besides, in the meantime the family can get a small credit for the would-be rent since they are providing free housing to a single mare with a young foal, so they’ll recover a small portion of the lost income anyway.

Title looks up from her mat and says, “’bout time, what’d ya bring me?” The pink mare has her daughter snuggled between her forehooves, a letter book open on a stand in front of her.

Shoulders sagging, Cure takes the paper bag off his withers and passes it to the mare before flopping on her right by her shoulder.

“Aww, honey,” she sympathetically says, “I was just teasing. Thanks for getting us donuts, though. That was very sweet of you.”

Despite her words, she doesn’t hesitate to open the bag and start cramming an eclair in her face, happily humming and wiggling her booty as she savors the cream filled pastry. Savvy gets in on the action, too. Her dam tears off a tiny piece, scoops a little cream on it, and passes it to the excited filly.

“Daaaam! Come get a donut before mom and Savvy eat ‘em all!”

“We’ll be right down, honey,” he hears from the stairs.

Nuzzling the top of his head against his mom’s shoulder, he asks, “Where’s Amy and the girls?”

“She took ‘em over to play with Fall and Summer. They’re going to the pond to swim. Lemon just left a few minutes ago to open up.” She turns her neck back to nose at his right side, giving him a quick nuzzle. “Your dam said you had some kinda big kerfuffle over there. Everything alright?”

“Ugh. First off, let me say that secret identities are a massive nuisance.”

Heavy clops coming down the stairs draw his attention to his sire, followed by his dam right on his tail. “Heya sport, it all turn out okay?” he asks. He leans down to plant a smooch on his daughter’s head, then snatches the donuts up and hops away from Title as she squawks in protest.

“I’ll put a cup of coffee on for you, honey. Are you sure you’re going to be okay working today?”

“Thanks, dam. I’ll be fine. I’ll just take a nap later. All is well, pa.” Cure takes a deep breath and begins his tale, speaking up a little so Vines can hear from the kitchen. “So the class thing went really well.

“They apparently work individually with newcomers, so I spent most of the class working one-on-one with a stallion. Silver Streak. He’s a second lieutenant over in Baltimare. He was fine with me cheating, so I can do the moves; I just need actual experience to know when and how to use ‘em.”

“Gonna keep goin?” Deed asks, chewing his way through a chocolate donut with sprinkles. A few of the sprinkles fall off, and the stallion doesn’t bat an eye, licking them right off the floor. It’s a move that makes Cure want to cringe, but is actually completely acceptable in pony society. Earth ponies, in particular, are far hardier than a human, and somepony using their mouth to move something just isn’t uncommon at all.

“Yep. It was fun. I may go to the afternoon one on occasion too.”

“There’s an afternoon one?” Vines asks as she walks back in from the kitchen. Cure’s coffee mug is floating just by her shoulder, held firmly in her TK field. She sets the coffee in front of him and lays on her side turned his direction. She still has a month left, but with two foals in her she looks ready to pop. Deed passes her the donuts and she hums in delight when she spots a raspberry jelly filled one Cure got just for her.

“Yeah… there is. Three o’clock,” he huffs. “I think Song maybe had an ulterior motive for neglecting to mention it before.”

It only takes a second for his mom to catch on. “Her daughter?”

He wobbles a hoof left and right in an unsure gesture. “Ehh… or just any young bat filly. There were twenty-six of ‘em there. She played it off as a tease, but she did mention that I have at least one of every other tribe in my circle. Anyhow, it’s not really a big deal either way; the morning class was probably better overall, even if it makes for a long day.

“So I ended up changing behind a closed store, then teleported the last few hundred meters to the side of the community center. Apparently somepony saw the flash and caught sight of me. By the time class was half over several dozen spectators and a few newsponies had shown up.”

“Didn’t embarrass yerself too bad, didjya?”

“Heh… no. In fact I may have kinda embarrassed Silver accidentally. We were doing a little grappling after he showed me several of the moves. Ya know, kind of a ‘Here’s how you use it’ thing. I enlarged myself so it wasn’t too awkward.”

“Oh my,” Vines hums, having a pretty good idea how that ended.

“Yeah. Most things from my memories aren’t applicable to a quadrupedal stance, but we were wrestling on our hind legs, and I’m a lot stronger than even an adult bat.”

“Poor fellah,” Title sympathizes with a chuckle. “Had no idea what he was in for, huh?”

“Nope. I got my forelegs around his barrel, lifted him up, and slammed him down on his back, maaaaaybe a smidge harder than I meant to. I think I knocked the wind outta him. From both ends, even.”

Deed gives an impressed whistle, “Beatin up the instructor on the first day. Way ta go, son.”

“The newsponies,” Vines notes, holding a hoof in front of her full mouth as she giggles.

“Yup. They got a nice picture outta that, I’m sure. Hopefully the dude doesn’t get too much crap from his subordinates. You know that pic’s gonna be in every paper in the country by Friday.”

Title extends her horn and lifts the treats back over, looking for another to share with Savvy. Cure rolls to his barrel and takes a sip of his coffee before continuing. “So the reason I’m like three hours late is ‘cause I offered to give the foals all a checkup and a quick fix before I left. Well, one of ‘em had a heart problem.”

“Wow,” Title mumbles. “She’s lucky you happened to be there.”

“It’s a hereditary condition,” he adds.

“Her dam?” Vines asks, immediately catching on.

“Mmhmm. And her sister,” he answers. “A ventricular septal defect. It’s basically a hole in the heart, which actually sounds worse than it is. I mean, it’ll eventually kill ya, but the most common symptom is lack of energy ‘cause instead of sending oxygenated blood to the body like it should, some of it gets sent back to the lungs instead. Your body isn’t getting the air it needs and the heart has to work harder to compensate.

“Granddam apparently kicked the bucket in her early fifties from heart failure, probably suffering from it her whole life. They never got checked themselves, but… yeah. The mare has a couple siblings she’s gonna reach out to. They need to get checked too.”

“Damn, son… that’s ten or more ponies’ lives ya may have saved. Was it really hard ta fix or somethin?”

“Nope. It took about two minutes per to fix ‘em up. I’m way late ‘cause I ain’t tinkerin with somepony’s ticker unless a doctor gives the go-ahead first, though.”

“Ah,” his sire intones, “hadta go to the hospital.”

“Yep. Shock and dismay, there’s not a cardiologist on site most Saturday mornings at six thirty. It took an hour and a half for one to show up, another thirty minutes for her to confirm my diagnosis, and the direct intervention of Dr. Care to approve me doing the treatment. Over two hours wasted for five minutes of work,” he laments, taking a long draw of his brew.

“On the plus side,” he says, perking up, “the whole thing will probably be an enormous PR win for me. The mare had an absolute meltdown when,” he pauses when all three parents cock a brow at the term. “Right. Meltdown. Uhh, it’s when something overheats to the point it literally melts down. It later became a euphemism for an explosive loss of control. Like, a mental breakdown, sort of, at least in this context.

“Anyhow, when I scanned the filly and saw the heart issue I pulled her dam off to the side. I mean… I explicitly told her it’s a minor, non-urgent, easily addressed issue. The only words that registered were ‘heart defect’ and ‘foals’ to her, apparently. Probably some trauma from losin her mom,” he offers with a shrug. “She completely lost her sh… stuff. But,”

His sire finishes the line of thought, “All’a them newsponies got ta see ya comfortin a distraught mare?”

“Not really. She was inconsolable until her husband and wives showed up. I had to ask Silver to call them on my Sending crystal. But the newsponies heard her, then waited for us to leave the hospital for a photo op. They got a picture of a whole herd of bats squashin me in a group hug right there on the front steps of the hospital.”

“Oh, that’s fantastic, honey!” his dam gushes, smiling broadly. “Princess Celestia will be so excited when she sees it!” She rolls over her belly, continuing to her left side and rests her head on his back, rubbing her left cheek and muzzle against him. “I’m so proud of you, sweetie!”

“Good job, sport. Not ta rain on yer parade, but I do have a tiny concern.”

“That doing stuff like that will encourage ponies to seek me out?”

“Got it in one.”

Cure finishes his drink, lets out a long sigh, and scoots his mug away to lay his neck and head down between his forelegs. “Dunno what I coulda done different, pa. Not offered to check over the foals, I guess, but it was a good opportunity and I didn’t expect all that.

“I think I need to focus back on creating treatments. I’ve repeatedly said that’s the biggest bang for the bit. The whole healing thing is just a stopgap and a PR move anyhow, just like we originally discussed. There’s some things I’m just not sure how to address safely though. Maybe I should talk to Dr. Care about it next time I see her.”

Cure pauses, glancing over to Savvy as she completely ignores her dam’s attempt to focus her on the book. Deed follows his eyes and smirks at the display, chuckling as he says, “May be a tad early for that, babe.”

“You shut it!” she snaps back. Tightening her forelegs’ hold and nosing at the little tuft of a mane she continues, “Our little Savvy is the smartest filly in the world! She’ll probably start talking any day now,” she firmly insists.

Everypony looks at the girl in question as she tilts her head up to meet her dam’s eyes. In a cute, high pitch she makes a vaguely “ah” noise. Title’s eyes grow big as saucers as she starts repeating “dam” to the girl, trying to get her to speak up. After a moment with no success, Savvy finally freezes in place for a second, looks right up at her dam, and lets out a crystal clear “oink!”

Deed’s jaw falls open, Vines gasps and rolls off of Cure, and Title slowly turns her head right, finding Cure shaking with barely contained laughter, his horn extended and made to glow visibly. “You little shit!” she growls.

“Like dam, like daughter, eh ma?” he asks, cutting off the Illusion spell to reveal the happily burbling filly doing nothing in particular.

His sire has more sense than he, shouting, “Run, colt!” as he pulls his daughter out of the way. It’s enough of a warning that Cure manages to dive away from the pounce. He launches himself behind his sire, shoots towards the stairs, and literally runs up the wall to escape, giggling madly the whole way and leaving the shouting, cursing mare behind.

“Gottagetreadyforwork!” he yells, darting into the bathroom. “Love you, momma!” he shouts, slamming the door shut.

The fuming mare had stopped at the base of the stairs. She glares up the short flight and grumbles, shifting on her hooves as she mutters under her breath about whoopin’ a blue hiney. Her focus is drawn to her mates, both of whom are quietly laughing, trembling with mirth while using her daughter as a pony shield.

“He’s a brat ‘cause of you!” she accuses, pointing a hoof at the innocently smiling stallion.

“‘Cause ‘a me, nothin. This one’s the trouble maker,” he insists, flicking his tail at his first wife.

Vines gives him an affronted look. “I have no idea what you’re talking about,” she declares, sniffing dismissively and turning away. The other two share a knowing look, but wisely choose not to respond.

Author's Note

It's pretty far out, but just a warning right now - I have travel plans that'll make it impossible for me to write for a few weeks at the end of August and beginning of September. I always like to give plenty of warning so that no one thinks the story's been abandoned, though (disappointingly) it seems like a lot of people don't read the A/N section for some reason and ask anyhow. So yeah... heads up on that. I know it sucks going for a week or three without an update, but RL comes first.

I've also been getting lots of questions about time skips and some about when this story will eventually reach canon MLP's time. The former will come when it comes - There's a few major things to come in the remainder of 909, of course, but since this is a slice of life story there will be just random pure SoL chapters for a few days in there too. There's no reason to rush to 999 AB and there's a lot of things that'll happen over the next 90 years.

I mean... I'd be bummed AF, as a reader, if I opened a story like this and it eighty or more years of timeline was just skipped over.

What's the rush, anyhow? It's about the journey, not the destination, right?

If / when we get to MLP canon it won't be for a long, long time, I expect. I mean... story-wise only like 9 months have passed.

Oh well. Thanks for reading, as always. Enjoy!

Chapter 70: Updates

Sunday, May 24th, 909AB (the next day)
Afternoon

“I get it,” Cure begrudgingly acknowledges, “it just kinda sucks they won’t be able to come.”

“Such is life in the guard, son,” Haze sympathetically agrees. “He’s certainly not the only one in the Baltimare region that would like to attend, but considering he was a newly minted private it was somewhat of a miracle he could accompany you the last time.”

“Miracle in many ways,” Deed agrees. “Havin a certified guard there ended up helpin all around. Both us and him, as a matter ‘a fact.”

“I can’t believe he’s a corporal already!” Dawn cheers. “The best part was watching him try to explain how it happened to all of his friends. He finally gave up and told everypony it’s confidential per her majesty.”

“Well… he’s not wrong,” Cure offers with a shrug.

Thanks to the convenience of the Sending crystals it is easy enough to find out when somepony is home. The four are on their way to visit Rising; or, more specifically, to speak with her dam. According to their friend, her dam is a little hesitant to let the girl go back to the capital after last time, so Cure suggested it may help alleviate some of her concerns if the local guard XO could spare some time to reassure her.

Haze, while technically being on the clock, is not in uniform at the moment. He explained that while the armor may add some more weight to the conversation, the filly’s dam is already quite aware of his position due to their friendship and previous meetings. He also doesn’t want to come off as intimidating to the mare, something Cure could understand given the fact two extremely fit stallions are accompanying him.

Cure hadn’t expected Dawn to tag along, but he didn’t have a good reason to say no when she asked. As with the sergeant’s armor, he figures having a filly and a known friend of her daughter with them may put the mare more at ease. The two have been friends since before he really got to know any of them, after all. In fact, Cure has only seen Rising’s dam a half dozen times that he can recall.

The first was when he was making rounds to drop off Hearth’s Warming presents. Though he was just being a good friend and, perhaps, a little bit of a shit, he left her with the impression that he was romantically pursuing, or at least interested in, her daughter. At the time the pair were no more than friends and, even to this day, he would hesitate to describe their relationship as anything else, even if it is closer.

Still, with so few colts the very prospect of seeing any of them alone with nopony to just be there for them… it’s a fate that entirely too many mares find themselves dealing with. It’s one of the reasons Cure isn’t even slightly upset with Sgt. Song after the previous day’s deception. Though slightly underhooved, he just can’t find it in himself to begrudge a dam trying to introduce a good colt to their daughter. That’s just part and parcel of being a parent in pony society, at least as it is now.

The second time he met the mare she didn’t give him the opportunity to get away without scooping him up in a hug. It was when he and his sire walked all the fillies home after dark, and was done in thanks for buying Rising her saxophone. He can understand; he is completely irresistible and totally adorable, not to mention handsome and, of course, humble. Mares that don’t have an overpowering urge to hug him more than likely have something wrong with them that even he can’t fix.

One other time was incidental when the friends were all hanging out, then there was the tree reveal party, then their departure to and return from the capital. The two didn’t have any time or reason to chat on those occasions.

“Indeed. Or at least, that’s partially true. While I certainly appreciate her majesty’s actions, I do worry. The brightest candles, and all that.” The stallion glances down at Cure and shrugs, “I suppose that rule doesn’t always apply.”

“Not sayin yer wrong, sarge, but I’m pretty sure that rule does apply to me too. There’s only one pony I’m not so sure about, and I don’t think a flame burnin out would be a big concern for her.”

Haze chuckles while nodding in agreement. “Perhaps so, son. His dam certainly had some mixed feelings about the promotion, though. She is thrilled for him, of course, but the Academy starts classes in September, so it’ll only be a few months before he’s shipped off again.”

“She’s already getting mopey,” Dawn says in agreement.

“Oof… and Maelstrom is a lot further away,” Cure adds in understanding. A small, worried frown crosses Dawn’s face, so he trots a bit closer, brushing sides with the filly.

“Ain’t it up near Chicoltgo?”

“Indeed,” Haze confirms. “Just northwest abutting up to the northern stretch of the Galloping Gorge. Some centuries ago they used the sheer cliff wall as a target backdrop. That is, until enough accumulated damage caused a rockslide. Environmental preservation groups stepped in, as you would expect.”

“Huh. Neat. I wonder if we’ll get to go there someday.”

“I can’t fathom why you couldn’t, Cure. Though I’m not sure that there’s much to see from a tourism standpoint. It’s tall, granted, but,” he stops and raises a brow at Cure shaking his head.

“Nah, I mean, like… go to the academy. Like, I’m confident we would qualify to get in, I’m just not sure…” this time Cure trails off at Haze’s dumbfounded expression.

“You are still considering joining the military?”

The colt nods.

“Why?”

“Why… would I join you mean?”

“Yes. You’ll certainly not lack for opportunities to serve, if that’s your motivation. There’s little for you to learn that you could not from another source if that’s why. I know she’s busy, but certainly her majesty would be a better teacher than almost anypony else possibly could be. Money certainly isn’t a driving force for you, nor do you need the career opportunities service would provide.”

“I dunno. There’s a few reasons, I guess. First off, if I ever do plan on doing anything official, leadership wise, having that experience will probably be helpful. There’s also the… I guess trust or respect? Faith?” He pauses, tilting his head up in thought before nodding. “Yeah, trust, I guess, is closest. Anyhow, with military experience ponies that may otherwise doubt something I say would probably be more inclined to consider it.”

“I don’t reckon yer gonna have a problem gettin ponies ta do what ya say, champ.”

“Indeed not,” Haze immediately agrees. “The title you’ll have aside, most ponies would likely obey a command automatically. If you, in your disguise, if that’s even the right term for it, walked into Base Carol and ordered full readiness the captain’s first order would be to put the base at yellow alert.” With a shrug he adds, “Her second may be to send a dragonfire letter to Canterlot, but nonetheless, she would obey until told otherwise.”

“Huh. That… “ he pauses, considering his words. “I dunno what to make of that. It makes sense, I guess, but that’s also a little scary. Still, with proper military training if a situation were to come up someday I’ll at least have an idea as to what’s going on and what needs to happen. Without it I’d have to rely entirely on the ponies around me knowing what to do and I would hafta assume they’re right.”

“True,” Haze concedes. “I suppose, ultimately, you have time.”

“We all have time, sarge. You two put any thought into havin a few more since my revelation?” The question gets a scowl from the filly, but Cure just gives her a curious look. “What? Don’t wanna be a big sister?”

“I’m fine with being a big sister!” she huffs. “That doesn’t mean I want to think about it.”

“As a matter of fact, we did discuss it. Only in passing, though. Perhaps at some point in the future we’ll consider it, but I believe we both wish for a few years for ourselves once our little glowbug is all grown up,” he fondly offers, leaning left to nuzzle the filly’s neck with his snout.

“Gonna wait a bit before startin all over, are ya?” Deed asks.

“Exactly. Who knows, honey. Perhaps in ten or fifteen years when you’re ready to be a dam we’ll be ready again too. It would certainly make foalcare easier, having foals at the same time. It’s certainly not a concern now, nor will it be for a long time.”

Brows furrowed in thought, Dawn considers the implications. “But… if I had a foal then you and dam did mine would be older than its aunt or uncle!”

“It happens sometimes,” Deed comments. “More with earth ponies than y’all, but it does happen. Especially when, like us, somepony has one young.”

“Yeah, babe. My great grandparents are, biologically, twenty five now. If they decided to have another foal I’d be older than my grandmother or grandfather at that point. Of course, just making a mare young again doesn’t mean she’s going to be able to have more foals.”

“What?” Dawn asks, “Why not?”

“She’ll probably have run out of eggs,” he casually answers.

“I... was not aware that mares simply ran out of eggs,” Haze confesses. “I was under the impression the body produced them until, eventually, it stopped.”

“Huh-uh. Females of most species have a set number of eggs when they’re born. For us it’s like... a few million. Each season the one the body deems the healthiest, or sometimes more with fraternal twins, is released in the body and the mare experiences estrus. Once the number of eggs goes below a certain threshold the mare doesn’t have that happen anymore and they can’t have any more foals.”

“Fascinating. In my defense, my medical experience is, obviously, not focused on reproductive issues.”

“Yeah, I would hope that’s not something somepony’s callin the guard for help with. I mean, maybe in some of those books,” he says with a laugh as the filly beside him looks like she wants to wretch.

Haze just groans, complaining, “You would not believe how many times I’ve been told, ‘I’ve always loved a stallion in armor,’” he says in a nasally impression of a mare’s voice.

“Yes I would,” Cure assures him. “I get it secondhoof, but if I put a bit in a jar every time somepony’s suggested introducing me to a filly I could pay my taxes with it each quarter.”

“So wait,” Dawn interrupts, “if just making somepony young again won’t give them eggs, how could you possibly make it so they can have foals again? I mean, if you didn’t use your talent on them while they still had eggs...”

“Offhoof, I would imagine I could just give mares something similar to... well,” he frowns in thought, looking past the filly to her sire.

“Testicles?” Haze casually offers, legitimately curious. The suggestion nearly causes Dawn to trip when she whips her head around, staring at the stallion in horror while Deed guffaws and looks away.

“Not exactly, but sort of?” Cure answers. “I mean, obviously the product would be quite a bit different, but the underlying function would be similar. I’m not gonna walk up to some mare and be like, ‘Sure, I can give ya foals again, lemme just cram a ballsack up in there and you’ll be all set!’”

“CURE WAVE!” the filly screeches in admonishment. Haze snorts out a laugh while Deed lets out a deep, loud laugh.

“Maybe that would help ‘em with all the craziness,” Cure whispers to his sire, setting off another round of laughter. He has to course correct when the scowling filly bashes into his right side.

“Perhaps,” Haze begins while still lightly chuckling, “you should work on your bedside manner. And for Celestia’s sake don’t let her dam hear you say that. She may have a stroke. Or kill you. Perhaps both.”

“Yeah. Well between that and a few other things in nature, I’m sure I can come up with something. Some animals, though not many mammals, actually produce eggs throughout their life. I’m just not sure if whatever I come up with will be in the form a treatment I can distribute or if it requires my direct use of my talent.”

An air of silence falls on the group as they ponder, walking the remainder of the short distance to their friend’s house.

Cure trots ahead a few steps and gives the door a rap, calling out, “Knock, knock! Yo, RP! It’s us!” The enthusiastic call out gets a chuckle from the unicorn stallion as his daughter sighs and rolls her eyes again. The small smile doesn’t escape his notice.

The sound of hooffalls on the other side precedes the door swinging open only a moment later. Rising, her dam just behind her, smiles at her two friends and quickly hops out to give both a nuzzle. The mare looks young given Rising’s age. Cure wouldn’t put her past thirty, but it is a little harder to tell with earth ponies sometimes. She has a light cream colored coat and darker, deep red mane.

“Hello,” the mare greets as they make their way in. “We’ve met a few times, but I don’t think we’ve ever been properly introduced.”

“Sergeant Gleaming Haze, ma’am. Dawn’s my little girl.”

“Clean Deed,” his sire greets with a nod. “I think one ‘a my wives was talkin yer ear off at the colt’s tree party. Well, she weren’t my wife yet at the time, I suppose.” At her thoughtful look he clarifies, “Lemon Sweet? Yellow coat ‘n light blue mane.”

“Oh! Of course! She owns that wonderful candy store by the train station! Congratulations! I’m Crisp Script. A pleasure,” she greets, then looks up at the dark stallion. “Three wives?” she asks, smiling broadly.

“Thanks! Four, actually. Lemon and Amethyst Blossom were married already. We’re all one big, happy family now.”

“Four? Oh my!” She puts a hoof to her chest and very blatantly looks the stallion up and down. “Goodness, me, that is impressive. I can certainly see it, though.” Rising sags a little with a sigh while Dawn looks over Cure’s withers at Deed, trying to find whatever it is that sparked that reaction. Haze looks like he wants to go find an adult, but Cure has to struggle to hold in a howl of laughter. “Come right in, please make yourself comfortable,” she says, stepping aside and waving everypony in.

Cure follows Dawn into the house, trailing behind Rising. As he enters the living room for the first time his attention is immediately drawn to the bookshelves that line the wall opposite the large bay window. With his acute vision he spots some familiar looking, new looking books on some of the higher shelves; they’re the same “Scarlet Heart” series his dam had chastised Title for leaving out some months ago.

Like Dawn’s home, the family has actual couches instead of cushioned mats, though there’s only two, both perpendicular from the far wall with the fireplace. The two stallions take the closest while Rising motions the other foals to the one her dam has returned to.

“You lay here!” she commands, pointing right next to her dam. Cure glances at his sire, unsurprised to find both stallions smiling in amusement. He hops up just a few hooves away from her dam on her left side. Before he can sit the yellow filly starts pushing on his right haunch, nudging him to the left. “No, Cure, turn so we can both fit!” she demands.

“Yes, ma’am,” he obediently turns, facing the broadly smiling mare. Dawn watches in confusion as her coltfriend is marehandled. “Like this, ma’am?” he teasingly asks, laying with his barrel twisted so his right haunch and chest are flat on the couch and hind hooves are nearly dangling off the side.

Nodding in approval, the filly looks at Dawn and waves her to her, apparently, reserved seating on his withers. Once she’s situated, Rising happily flops over his lower back, crossing her forehooves primly by his hind legs. “You good?” he asks, looking up at her from under Dawn’s chin.

“Mmhmm!”

“Sure you don’t want a pillow or anything?”

“No thanks!”

“Some fresh fruit, perhaps?” he offers.

All the adults are shaking in laughter at the scowl she sends him. “I could go for some cherries,” she snarks back.

“You bet!” he easily agrees, reaching into his mane and pulling out a cherry-laden vine before passing it to the perplexed filly. “Extra sweet and no pit as milady prefers,” he drolly offers.

Somewhat hesitantly, the filly accepts the vine, analyzing it with furrowed brows. “I thought cherries grew on trees, not vines,” she quietly mumbles.

“My dam is a mare of many talents,” he assures her in non-answer before turning back. He finds her dam looking more closely at his mane mouthing “Where the?” in confusion. “Sorry, but we’re all out of cherries, ma’am. Just sold the last batch. Hopefully we’ll get some more in on our next shipment.”

A sharp poke to his side and a quick “Behave!” causes him to frown at the surly unicorn on his back. “See if you get any treats,” he grouses under his breath.

“Maker help us,” Haze quietly bemoans, wrapping up a protracted facehoof. “Miss Script, Cure had asked that I join him to discuss our upcoming expedition… to…” the stallion pauses, distracted by the two fillies having a foodgasm over the cherries. He shakes himself to refocus, continuing, “to the capital for the Summer Sun Celebration and Cure’s coronation.”

“It’s really true?” she asks, turning to analyze the colt, shocked to find a horn sticking straight out of his head. The colt closes his eyes in concentration for a moment and, in a flash of light, a four by five hoof, elegantly framed photograph is floating in the air before her. Taking it in her hooves, she immediately spots Cure, horn and wings on full display along with all the other foals, the younger adults, his parents and siblings, and of course, the princess.

“Well done, Cure,” Haze compliments. “Much easier than teleporting yourself, hmm?”

“That was awesome!” Rising cheers. “You teleported that all the way from your home?!”

“Our house,” Dawn answers. “He left yours and Saph’s there. He just wanted to show off.”

“I’m goin over there so we can practice our skit after this. It also seemed like a good way to dispel any remaining doubts,” he offers. “And the sarge is right. A half kilogram frame is a lot easier to teleport than all this hunk’a pony,” he says, motioning to himself with his right forehoof.

Nodding, the stallion explains, “Most adult unicorn stallions aren’t much more than about a hundred and thirty kilograms. I’m a little on the heavier side thanks to all of the exercise. How much do you weigh now?”

“Not much more than a few months ago; like eighty-five, maybe.” Plus about another forty or so crammed in my bags. “Range is definitely based on true mass, though. I can’t go farther just ‘cause I’m using the pegasus aura.”

Haze nods in understanding. “A shame. You could teleport to Fillydelphia in only a couple hops otherwise. Assuming you had identified good landing points, that is.”

“I can fly high enough to see Fillydelphia from here, sarge. Griffons ain’t got squat on me.”

Script looks appraisingly at the colt. There’s no denying he’s very muscular, but he’s only a few centimeters taller, though a fair amount broader, than her daughter. “Are you heavier because you’re an alicorn?”

“Sort of. We’re definitely made a lot different from the other tribes, but I don’t know how much of that actually contributes to weight. I wasn’t really any lighter before all this happened. My muscles are way heavier, but that’s mostly ‘cause they’re larger and, more importantly, denser than what you'll typically find in nature aside from a few specialized spots. A lot of our physical strength is the result of metaphysical cow manure I can’t follow, but it seems to be multiplicative instead of additive.

“Our bone structure is pretty different on a microscopic level; I’m pretty sure the compact layer is made of some kind of cobalt compound instead of calcium, which makes no freakin sense ‘cause I don’t think the boss lady eats rocks. At least I can explain how the dragons are replacing theirs, but don’t ask me what greens she’s eatin to keep her from gettin some kinda osteoporosis. It’s probably either recycled or maybe there's some kinda automatic transmutation goin on internally. I can't detect minerals like that with just a snapshot scan, so who knows?

“Either way, that was just the mark one alicorn bone structure. Mine are a fair amount stronger because of the way individual bone cells in the compact layer interlock on a molecular level when stressed. The softer tissue still adheres, but gets squeezed out of the way so the much harder pieces fit together like a three dimensional puzzle. That spreads the pressure out instead of letting it focus on one spot and, even if one cracks it doesn't move since it's trapped by all the ones around it. To a point, I suppose.

“I’m prototyping a few different titanium, aluminum, and steel hybrid bone structures that I’ve come up with using transmutation. Heavy metal poisoning is a concern for others, but the titanium seems really promising since it’s safe and nonreactive. The best compound I’ve found so far was a complete accident.

“Kudos to Sapphire; she bought some cubic zirconias when we were in Canterlot and since they’re knockoff diamonds and not considered ‘precious,’ transmuting stuff into it is perfectly legal. It only took me a couple days to get enough powder to line the important spots and lemme tell you, my cranium is tough and absoluuutely fabulooous!” he finishes, waving his forehooves in the air and chuckling.

The fillies share a confused look while Script slowly turns her head from the colt back to the two stallions, then raises a single brow in question. Both shrug helplessly, Haze offering the only answer he can come up with. “Alicorn of Life. I only followed some of that.”

“I… see,” she slowly drawls. “The picture shows wings,” she inquires, looking meaningfully at his left side.

Cure lifts the hidden wing along with Dawn's forehooves, extending his primary and secondary feathers. “I keep ‘em hidden, same as the ‘ol magic wand,” he says as he waves at his head.

“Huh. That’s useful,” she comments to his vigorous agreement.

“I believe we may have gotten somewhat off topic,” Haze observes.

Cure nods in agreement. “I do have that effect.”

“Indeed.” He turns to face the mare and explains, “My understanding is that you had some concerns regarding our safety during the journey. Given what happened last time, I can certainly understand where you are coming from.”

“Well, of course, after all…” Script begins, then pauses and looks uneasily between the foals and sergeant for a moment before saying, “Rising, honey, how about you three go up to your room for a moment.”

Cure, unused to being left out of adult conversations, looks to his sire and Sgt. Haze. The fillies accept the request without argument and, upon receiving a nod from the stallions, Cure hops down to join them.

The three head up the stairs as Haze begins outlining some of the semi-publicly shareable precautions that have been discussed. Though the house isn’t as large as Sapphire’s parents’ house, the upstairs hallway has four doors; two on each side. The farthest, he assumes, leads to the master bedroom and the first one on the left is a small bathroom. The farthest on the right is their apparent destination, but just like Onyx had in his home, the first one on the right appears to be a home office.

Cure only glances in as they pass, but does a full-on stop and back up move when he sees something that, if he’s identifying it correctly, he didn’t even know existed in this world. “Hey RP, what’s that?” he asks, jerking his head towards the desk. The two fillies rejoin him and peek into the room. “Is that a typewriter?”

“Mmhmm. Dam’s written a few books. She just bought it last year and says it’s much easier on her fetlock.”

“Can I look at it? I won’t touch, I’m just curious how it works.”

The filly worries her lip for a moment and looks down the hall towards the stairs. She looks back and gives a small nod, but repeats back his promise. “No touching. She says they’re super expensive.”

“Sure,” he easily agrees, walking up to the desk it’s sitting on. The desk surface is low enough that he can rear up and look. There isn’t a booster in the room and, given that he really doesn’t intend to use it, he doesn’t need one. Dawn joins him a moment later, looking over the solid metal contraption that’s drawn the colt’s curiosity.

Cure had always been curious how ponies could use a typewriter. Sure, their TK field would be capable of substituting in for fingers with some training, but despite the strength and flexibility it offers it lacks in speed and precision compared to fingers. Whatever pony invented this, and he’s fairly certain it must have been a pony, they went a very different route, probably to make it more viable for unicorns and pegasi as well.

While it still has the visually unique carriage that human typewriters have it lacks anything resembling keys. Instead, there are two spots for forehooves to rest in the center of a pair of disks where the keys would normally be. Along the outside of the right disk is the alphabet, spread out into groups of eight color-coded labels.

The grouping at the nine o’clock spot has A through H. The A is white on a black background, the B is the opposite, and C through H are color coded with red, orange, yellow, green, blue, and purple. Groups of letters, then numbers, and finally symbols are arranged at the cardinal and ordinal points.

“Ah… so you move the left disk in the direction of the color, then the right one to pick the corresponding letter. Huh.”

“Yep, and there’s a pinwheel thing that spins around and goes ‘whap’ to make the letters.”

“I don’t see space, upper case, or carriage return.”

“You press the color wheel for upper case. The hoof pedals do space and go to a new line,” she says, motioning to the floor.

Cure goes back to all fours and lights his horn, finding two pedals where a rear hoof would rest on the right side of the lean chair. He spots a wire or cable running up to the back of the typewriter from the unit. Given that there’s nothing magical or electric he can detect, he can only assume that there’s some kind of tension wire that hitting one or the other will trip.

“You’re such a geek sometimes,” Dawn observes.

“Yeah, I know. You gotta admit it’s kinda neat though. Can she type really fast with it?”

“She does most of her writing when we’re at school, but I know she’s a little faster with it than she can write,” the filly answers. “I think hoofwriting is better, but when she really gets going she can fill up a page in only a few minutes.”

“Cool. Thanks for lettin me check it out. What kinda stories does yer dam write, anyhow?”

“She says she writes history books. I’ve never read them ‘cause they sound boring. C’mon, I wanna practice my song for tomorrow!”

“Okay. Don’t think I’ve ever been in a filly’s room before, even if I did see it after the whole pie thing,” he agrees, following the pair.

“Evenin, boss!” Cure calls as the princess emerges from a bank of clouds. As soon as she lays down he nuzzles into her chest and collapses between her forelegs.

“Good evening, Cure Wave. You seem to be in a good mood today.”

“You bet! Sgt. Haze was able ta talk RP’s dam inta comin to that little shindig ‘a yers, so that’s almost all’a my friends and most of the parents that’ll be there. Solar hasta work and Star’s stayin back with ‘em, though. Afterwards me ‘n Saph worked on our talent show skit, then when I flew a list of everypony over to my great grandsire’s I just happened to show up right when granddam finished pullin a whole sheet’a sweets out of the oven!”

“That’s wonderful news, not to mention fortuitous timing. I don’t suppose you brought me one?” she asks with a hopeful, nearly pouty expression.

Cure furrows his brows and tilts his head in confusion. “We can do that? I haven’t taken anything outta my bags ‘cause I was afraid they’d disappear or somethin.”

Giggling behind her hoof, Celestia shakes her head no. “We appear as we see ourselves, but physical items don’t come here with us. Not really, at least.”

“But…” he points a hoof at her peytral and tiara.

She closes her eyes for a moment and they fade into nothingness as she explains, “They appear on me here, but will still be where I left them when I return should I remove them here. Otherwise that would be a very convenient way for us to transport items, would it not?”

“It would,” he easily agrees. “Well, once I can do that alicorn dragonfire mail thingy I’ll shoot ya off a couple whenever granddam whips some up. The mare’s named Caramel and she damn well knows how to make ‘em. My… his mom used to try to make ‘em, before. Said she could never find a good enough candy thermometer for those and fudge. They seemed fine, but she always said only gra… her mom could get ‘em perfect every time.”

Celestia wraps her forelegs around the colt, squeezing him gently against her chest. The pair sit in silence for a few minutes. He blows out a deep sigh and reaches up, nuzzling the side of his muzzle against her neck. “Thanks, princess.”

She nods in acknowledgement and releases him from the hug, giving him room to twist so he’s laying mostly on his side against her right foreleg. Looking up to the mare, he continues, “Yeah, so RP’s dam just happens to be an author. Did you know that?”

She nods and says, “Employment history is part of the dossier for all of the parents of your friends and classmates.” At his raised brow she explains, “Investigating associates of important ponies is standard procedure. It’s not terribly invasive; just a little more than what you’d likely ask from a prospective employee.”

“Ah. So… you read any of her books? Apparently she writes some kinda history books or something. RP couldn’t tell me any of the titles and Miss Script insisted they wouldn’t interest ‘a young, energetic colt.’”

“I’ve likely read almost every book in existence, Cure,” she answers in a flat tone.

“That’s a yes, then?”

She looks down, meeting his eyes in challenge.

“Have a favorite? I greatly value your opinion, after all. The girls and I enjoyed the ones you loaned to Drift. If you can suggest a good one maybe me and all the others can sit down and read it together.”

“Cure,” she calls in a tired tone.

He turns away, idly commenting, “I’m really curious what kind of fascinating things we could all learn. You know what they say, after all. Those who don’t learn from history and all that. I like to think of myself as somewhat of a subject matter expert in that particular area, as a matter of fact.”

She raised a single brow, waiting patiently for him to continue. Never one to disappoint, he does so right away. “After all, a sharp mind adept at quickly storing and retrieving facts helps immensely, and my unique capabilities mean that I’m able to not only get the big picture, but also catch the smallest detail. It’s the little parts that frequently get overlooked, and if you’re really paying attention, sometimes those little nubs of information can make a huge diff-”

Celestia lifts and drops her foreleg right on top of the colt again, looking away and sighing in exasperation as he cackles underneath her. “Of all the foals…”

Not missing a beat, he continues, “She asked my sire to pound her out.”

“What?!” she shouts, moving her hoof to the side to meet his eyes.

“She didn’t ask right there in front of us, but I overheard.” He waves his ears and explains, “Better hearing than a bat, remember? Just as we were leavin she wrote a little note and stuck it in an envelope for my moms, then asked if he would consider ‘being available come fall,” and changes his voice to huskily add, “and possibly before.’”

Rather than be mortified or embarrassed, she gives a firm approving nod in response. “Good. Your sire is a fine stallion. I do hope he considers making himself available to as many mares as he can. Harmony knows the need exists.”

“Yeah we’ve talked about that a few times. I’m planning on lending a hoof when I’m older, but I’m not sure how Dawn, assuming we’re together, would take that.”

“Both you and she will need to have a serious conversation at some point in the coming years. More than one, I suppose. As much as I treasure ponies’ right to choose, the simple fact is that there is a need and, upon reaching adulthood, you will be expected by many to do your part as well.”

“Yeah. Not looking forward to that. Well, the conversation part, or the ‘expectations’ part.”

“You care for her and don’t want to hurt her. While her desire to have you to herself is understandable, it simply is not feasible for now. If you were a typical pony then, by all means, but as the Alicorn of Life…”

“Right. I know. I think she’s seeing that too. Unicorn culture, ya know?”

“I do. I’ll not bring up the many sacrifices I have had to make, nor would I expect so much from any of my little ponies, but we must all sacrifice some things for the greater good.”

“Yeah, I don’t think anypony wants to play the ‘who’s given more’ game with you.” Cure rolls on his rear, retracting his horn and nuzzling into her chest and neck. “Everything’s gonna get better now, boss. We’re all here for ya.”

A smile splits the princess’s muzzle at the declaration and, unbidden, her right wing wraps around the colt to pull him in tight. “I can’t begin to tell you how much I appreciate that, Cure, despite your… oddities.”

“You bet, princess.” With one last nuzzle she releases him, letting him lay back down between her forelegs. He rests a cheek on her right pastern and looks up at her. “So, whatchya got for me this week, boss? I don’t suppose there’s been any updates on the prick that rented out our house?”

“There has. Even with his cutie mark hidden by a suit it was not difficult to find him. Only so many dark red pegasus stallions live near Baltimare, after all. He was showing a house to a young couple up in Parkdale when a squad happened upon him.”

“Really? Seems a little quick,” he comments, looking up suspiciously at the mare.

Her wings shift slightly as she turns away. “I… may have, on occasion, glanced in that general direction. Pegasi and other flying creatures tend to be somewhat more noticeable when in the sky. That’s all.”

“Uh huh. Well, my parents, especially my moms, will be happy to hear you found ‘em so fast, so thanks for that.”

She flicks a wing dismissively, saying, “Oh, I didn’t do much. Just peeked over there and, maybe, sent a letter or two. No big deal.”

“Whatever you say, boss. Speaking of goins on over here, I’m bettin you’ll be super excited about this,” he says, projecting an Illusion of the day’s front page of the Baltimare Examiner in front of himself.

Celestia leans forward to take in the picture of the colt, in his Serpentus guise, hugged on all sides by a family of bat ponies. Only his hooves, face, and one wing are visible through the tangled weave of membranous wings and forelegs squeezing him tight. The headline reads “Prince Serpentus Saves Family” and the lead indicates he detected a fatal, hereditary heart disease while doing health checks after Junior Guard Training the previous morning.

“Fantastic work, Cure!” she cheers, squeezing him tight again. “Oh, I’ll have to have copies sent to the castle! To think such an opportunity would present itself on your very first public outing!”

“Oh yeah, I guess it was, wasn’t it?”

“As far as I know, yes. Well done!”

“Thanks, boss. Much better picture than this one,” he says as he changes the Illusion to one of him slamming Lt. Silver into the mat. Celestia giggles and makes a sympathetic “Aww” upon seeing the lieutenant’s bulging eyes. “I’ll hafta make it up ta him. Hopefully his squad won’t give him a bunch of crap over gettin beat up by a colt.”

“Perhaps. Guards do like to razz each other. I’m sure he will be fine. I wager any but an earth pony would find themselves at a similar disadvantage, and they should know that.”

“Most earth ponies too, I bet. Nonstandard musculature, princess. Those minotaur are lucky I only gassed ‘em. Speakin of which, how’s that whole mess going?”

“The minotaurs have been sentenced already. Their leader will serve eight years and his subordinates seven and a half. The zebras have a competent attorney, but their trials, as well as the ponies’, should wrap up by next week. They will all be sentenced and sent to Salt Lick Penitentiary a few days before you arrive in the capital.”

“Good. Good riddance to ‘em. How’s the whole Pure Dew Pharma investigation coming?”

“You saw that in the paper, I’m guessing?”

“Royal Guards storming a pharmaceutical company and arrestin almost all the executives tends to garner a headline or two,” he points out in answer.

“You have been good so far. Just keep in mind, my order still stands,” she gently reminds him.

“I know,” he huffs. “I’m behaving.”

“Good. Those trials will likely take longer. Unlike the fool that was selling your information, they can afford the finest attorneys; something they have taken advantage of. Ultimately they are wasting time and money.

“The evidence against them is substantial and with my direct order giving Lt. Spear the authority needed to conduct the raid they have no valid argument to have collected evidence dismissed. The one who had… has, for now, a noble title will face additional corruption charges due to her position.”

“One of them is a noble?”

“Not of high standing; merely a Lady. Regardless, It infuriates me to know that she, who would accept the honor, would then take part in the planning of the abduction and, in all likelihood, murder of a foal!” She doesn’t shout, nor does she growl. Her voice becomes a physical force mid-sentence, gaining a resonant echo as her mane and tail whip up with flecks of golden flame. Cure feels the heat and pressure swell; a warping, gravitic effect permeating the area as he sits stock still while trying not to gain the attention of the eldritch entity glowing above him.

The fuming mare sucks in a deep breath and slowly blows it out, releasing the tension held in her astral body and the surrounding area. “She shall find my mercy quite lacking when she comes before me.”

He waits a beat for her to take another breath before asking, “You sentence nobles? I figured a judge…” he trails off when she shakes her head no.

“They are nobles. For disciplinary matters regarding their appointment they report to me, and no others.” She looks down at him, “For now. Maybe you, as well, someday. In this case I shall make my displeasure known, so that others would not forget should they ever consider doing something so dishonorable in the future.”

Cure shrugs and nods in response. “Sounds good to me, princess. The lady made her bed. She can sleep in it now. Maybe I oughta give her heart a check before you see her. We wouldn’t want ‘em gettin off too easy and if you get all fiery like that with most ponies they could keel over on the spot. Or mess themselves.” He raises up and makes a show of looking under himself. “I’m kinda surprised I didn’t. Coulda swore somethin slipped.”

Laughing uproariously at the colt’s silliness, Celestia nods in agreement. “Perhaps so. I shall have to temper myself beforehoof. My apologies, Cure. As we’ve discussed before, I try to maintain my control. In times past, the astral was a place I could come to, as they say, take off the tiara. Then again,” she glances upwards, “I suppose that still holds true.”

“Sure thing. And when I get a little older and taller maybe I can drag ya to a sparring ring. You can show me how to fight like an alicorn and, as long as ya don’t go too far, work some ‘a that stress out.”

“Goodness! I can only imagine the guards watching as two alicorns spar. That would be quite the sight!”

“Bet they’d be watchin through a telescope if they got any brains. I just wonder how many times I’ll hafta whoop ya ‘fore ya start whining ‘bout how unfair it is.”

Scoffing, Celestia pushes the colt over on his side. “Please. I find myself somewhat less than intimidated.”

“Yeah, you just keep pushin me around while I’m little, old lady. You’ll see someday.”

Celestia raises a single brow at the colt as he cockily bobs his head side to side. She wraps her hooves around him, getting a squawked “Ack!” then lays her head and neck across his back, smushing him from dock to snout under her. She giggles in amusement at his futile attempts to push her off, then pauses to tilt her head when she feels him still unexpectedly. Her eyes go wide in alarm when something, in a lightning fast strike, coils around her neck, over her back, and down her sides, binding her wings securely in place.

Recoiling away on instinct, she finds the colt lassoed to her by bands of pink flesh sprouted from his sides. His neck elongates disturbingly and rotates a full one hundred and eighty degrees, putting the two snout to snout. “Thought ya had me, didn’t cha? Other way around, boss!” he teases, smirking.

“I feel I must congratulate you, Cure. I do believe that was the single most upsetting thing I’ve ever seen a foal do. Ever.”

“Awww,” he gushes, eyelashes elongating as he flutters them, “you say the nicest things. I figured this,” he tilts his head back to indicate his long neck, “out a few weeks back and have been dyin for a reason to try it.

“Normally Drift woulda said somethin funky by now but she’s been behaving herself for once. And ta think, all it took was thousands of bits in presents, helpin her parents conceive twin colts, an all expense trip to a show, and custom, one of a kind wings,” he complains with an exaggerated eye roll.

“Would you mind… ?” she asks, shifting a wing against the bindings.

“Hmm? Oh! Right, sorry!” With an apologetic expression, the colt retracts his neck and withdraws his tentacles, dropping to the floor. Celestia lays down on her barrel again, though she keeps a wary eye on the colt. “Why ya lookin at me like I’m gonna bite ya, princess?”

“Really, Cure?” she asks, mildly scowling at the colt.

“What? I’d never do anything mean, especially to you. Weird is fine to a degree, but not mean. Yer lucky ya didn’t get a tongue up yer schnoz or something. I’d totally do that to somepony else.”

“A tongue up my -” she freezes, staring wide eyed at the colt as his tongue, stretched thin and narrow, snakes out of his mouth, up around his snout, and into his right nostril. He goes cross eyed for a moment and, to her dismay, the tip of the tongue pokes back out the left nostril before snaking back into his mouth. She opens her mouth to point out the obvious but freezes when the original portion of his tongue comes out like a serpent’s tail, only to follow the remainder up, into his nose, back out, and into his mouth.

“Ta Daaaa!” he shouts, throwing his hooves wide. “It’s a shame you can’t come see the show tomorrow. Plenty more where that came from.”

“You cannot be serious.”

“Nah, not really. I’d probably cause a stampede from all the panicking parents. It’s a magic show, so lots of sleight of hoof and goofy aura tricks nopony ever thinks of. It should be fun.”

“Hmm. Very well. I had best not hear of anypony being traumatized, though.” The princess pulls the colt back between her forelegs, though she still keeps her head up and away from him.

It hurts a little to see her react like that. He doesn’t think what he did was really that big of a deal, but he figures perhaps she’s had some event happen where she may have been similarly bound or trapped. It occurs to him that it’s also the first time he’s done any kind of shapeshifting in her presence without warning, and that it was a form of attack that may be twigging some kind of subconscious prey instinct she hasn’t felt in a long, long time.

He gives her a reassuring nuzzle on her leg and moves on, resolved to avoid doing anything like that again, or at least until the trust level between the two is sufficient that she knows he’d never do anything harmful to her. “You bet, boss. Speaking of traumatizing ponies, I’m meeting that zoo filly this Friday. I’ll let ya know how it goes next week.”

“Excellent. I’ll look forward to hearing about it. I do have a few updates for you as well. Testing continues with your trees. Several lab mice have been impregnated using a variety of different treatments. The first batch of… pups, if I’m not mistaken -”

“That’s right,” Cure confirms, nodding into her right cannon.

She smiles in thanks and continues, “they should be born in a couple weeks. If they are healthy and produce healthy pups then perhaps by next spring we will be ready for limited testing with volunteers.”

“Damn, glad I don’t have that job. Who do you have to piss off to be the dude applyin tree goop ta rodent crotches?”

“I…” Celestia pauses, her face going through a myriad of expressions. First thoughtful, followed by disgusted, and finally settling on mild amusement. “It’s not the most glorious of tasks, I will concede, but an important one nonetheless.”

“Right, absolutely. I just imagine somepony sitting in a lab with the whole coat and goggles on using a cotton swab to slather blue gel on a mouse’s wiener thinking, ‘Thank the stars I went for that master’s degree! Best job ever!’”

Celestia chuckles lightly, slowly shaking her head. “Regardless, your Origin Cell tree’s testing may be complete as soon as next month. The data from Baltimare Hospital helped speed that along. Your Antigen tree may be ready in time for the fall flu season, but the Vaccination tree may need adjustment.

“The team responsible for testing it has recommended that instead of a unit that’s designed for public use that it be repurposed for use in a sterile environment. Rather than provide vaccination for thousands of strains, they would prefer being able to expose it to one or only a few strains and have it target only those.”

“That’s doable,” he agrees. “It’s a narrower scope and, technically, easier, in fact. I’ll produce some seeds like that when I come in a couple weeks. Or I can have my parents bring some of my plants and transmute them wholesale when they arrive.”

“I’m sure either will suffice.”

“I’ll do both. They’ll have a working tree and a few spare seeds that way. Back to the Colt tree, Sgt. Song had a good point about testing. If it’s viable, she suggested Hollow Shades. It’s close enough I can fly over for monthly checkups and has a large bat community. Their smaller numbers exacerbate the whole gender ratio problem.”

Celestia considers it for a moment before shaking her head no. “I would not want to test a medicine on them if possible, even with you nearby. While they would benefit more than many from the treatment, they would also be more susceptible should any problem arise long-term.

“Then again… If it’s a problem you can easily correct, I suppose that would mitigate the risk.” She purses her lips and hums in thought before finally nodding. “I will mention the possibility, at least.” She looks at the colt consideringly and points out, “I suspect before long you will be the far more popular alicorn amongst the bat ponies. Training with them, saving their families from heart problems, resolving their low population numbers. They always favored my sister for obvious reasons.”

Cure shrugs in indifference. “Can’t say I’m interested in a popularity contest, boss. Ponies always like whoever gives ‘em stuff or fixes things for ‘em. They tend ta forget the stuff not right in front of them. They may not actively think of you when they can enjoy their day to day lives with peace and stability, but they’ll sing your name in praise if, stars forbid, somethin comes by and reminds ‘em.”

“Well… let me know if you begin to notice anything,” she requests.

The colt gives her an unsure look. “Notice anything? Like what?”

“You are using your talent constantly, and sharing it freely with others. It has always made me wonder… was I the more magically powerful one because ponies cherished the day? Was it because of the passing of time that we grew, or was it because we followed our destinies? With no other examples from whom to draw conclusions I have no way to be sure.”

“That’s… a lot to chew on, boss.”

“It’s more of a curiosity than anything, really. I suspect that it will matter little in the long term. Just tell me if anything changes, okay?”

“Would’ve either way,” he assures her. She smiles and nods in acceptance, letting the silence linger for a moment. With no other topics to discuss, Cure slowly rolls to his hooves, turns, and wraps his forelegs and wings around her neck and chest. “Goodnight, princess,” he says, nuzzling his brow into her neck just behind her jaw.

To his relief, she wraps a wing around him again and pulls him tight. “Goodnight, Cure. I will see you next week.”

Author's Note

Okay, I think there were some parts that I did better on my first pass through editing, but then my browser crashed and I lost all that. And no, it wasn't because I wasn't saving. I made a bunch of changes, saving after each one, then the browser crashed. It brought back up the first version of the chapter and I didn't notice that all the changes I made weren't present until after I made one more and hit save, thus overwriting all the ones I did in the meantime.

That happened when I tried to use autocorrect to change "Juinor" with "Junior" and, if you do a Find & Replace, you'll note that the word only appears once at about 70% of the way through the chapter. A chapter that, when I started, had under 8000 words.

Good times.

Oh well, I hope everyone enjoys. For all the other Americans out there, Happy 4th tomorrow. Don't do anything too stupid. Fingers are only useful when they're attached.

Thanks for reading, folks!

Chapter 71: Talent Show

Author's Note

What's this? A wild chapter appears!

Take this as more of a canon omake than anything, really. It's just a goofy chapter that I threw together for the hell of it. I wasn't going to do a chapter for the talent show, but I figured, "Eh, why not?"

Three things:

A chapter will be coming out as normal on Monday
No, I am not going to resume the Monday/Thursday schedule; this is almost certainly a one-off.
I spent far less time on this chapter than normal and I'm not going to dump a lot of time into going through it repeatedly with a fine-tooth comb like I usually do. That said, I don't see any blatant typos, but I'm sure at least a couple snuck in there.

That said, enjoy!

Chapter 71: Talent Show

Monday, May 25th, 909 AB (the next day)
Afternoon

“You look better with wings.”

Wide-eyed, Dawn shouts in a scolding tone. “Sapphire Sprint!”

“What?” she innocently asks. “He does.”

The orange filly looks meaningfully around the small herd and aims her glare back at their friend. The group is sat to the side with all of the other students, but as usual they have situated themselves in a small pile separate from everypony else. Coast watches on from her spot on Heavy’s withers, as Sapphire does on her sister’s and Dawn does on top of Cure. Rising, too busy fretting over her instrument, is sitting off to the side by the props they brought for their acts.

The parents, as well as a few curious members of the public, are all out in front of the slightly elevated platform they’re all using; one of a few fold-out temporary stages that all of the schools take turns using when the need arises. The talent show is taking place outside of the schoolhouse on the side of the east side of the south facing building.

“Nopony’s close enough to hear anyhow,” the aqua filly dismisses. With an exaggerated eye roll she asks, “Or is it ‘cause I didn’t say I like his horn better?”

Cure has to hold in a snort at that statement. It’s difficult, many times, being surrounded by mostly innocent foals with the memories of a very perverted middle-aged man. When such a blatant setup is tossed out there for anypony he has a very hard time not just replying on autopilot.

“Saph, quit it,” Ferric gently chides.

“What? Have you ever seen a horn and thought, ‘That right there,” she points a hoof at an imaginary horned pony, “That is a pretty horn.’” She raises a single brow in challenge, though most of the effect is obscured by the star-spangled and very unique hat she is wearing. Cure had suggested an ensemble from his memories and the excitable filly was delighted with the idea. “No? My point stands,” she finishes haughtily.

“Mmm… I would say that the horn, as a feature of the pony, can be pretty,” Cure argues. “Maybe not the horn itself, though.” He glances back at the frowny unicorn and explains, “Substitute ‘snout’ for horn, babe. Both are just parts. Neither, by itself, is singularity ‘pretty’ but, just like a painting, all the parts come together to form something beautiful.”

The unicorn beams, leaning down to nuzzle his cheek.

Heavy meets the colt’s eyes and gives a small, approving nod while mouthing “Nice save.”

He happily leans into the nuzzle and adds, “I will say that the friggin things are damned inconvenient sometimes. At least, havin it jutting out of your melon is.”

“Inconvenient?” Dawn asks as she sits back upright.

“I almost never sleep with mine out anymore,” he clarifies. “Kept getting it caught in my pillowcase or on sheets. It’s also in the way during snuggle time. I keep mine dull enough not to do much other than poke somepony, but it’s still annoying. I can’t imagine how much it would suck if mine was as sensitive as a normal unicorn’s all the time. You probably don’t notice since you’ve never not had one.”

“I thought that was only when you’re casting?” Coast inquires while looking at Dawn.

“It’s still sensitive, even when not,” she answers.

“It’s full of nerves. And muscles, of course,” Cure explains, “but nerves are the main culprit, obviously. Even if the outside is coated in tough keratin like a hoof, just like how you can tell when you’ve stepped on a single rock,” he says, rolling his hoof leadingly.

“Oh. Then why is it so much worse when you’re using magic?”

“The hit causes incorrect vibrations and destabilizes the spell. The feedback from the miscast zaps the nerves on top of whatever pain there is from the physical blow,” he answers. “It’s like…” he glances around, looking for an example. Zeroing in on Rising he continues, “imagine RP was playin her sax and all’a the sudden it somehow got clogged or whatever. Dunno how exactly that would happen -”

“It shouldn’t,” Rising interrupts. “Not unless you’re using it a lot and not taking care of it at all, but even then…”

“Okay, fair enough. Well, pretend something in the mouthpiece blocks it off unexpectedly while she’s playing it. That’s not a problem with lungs, but horns are, again, full of nerves and a hit transmits right through the keratin. Her playing gets interrupted, which isn’t usually a big problem with music, but the horn hits the wrong note, sometimes catastrophically, and there ya have it. It’s like a lightning bolt right to a big cluster of nerves on the noggin.”

“Huh. That’s kinda interesting,” Coast mumbles in thought.

“He fixed ours. Mine and Solar’s. Better muscles, less sensitive pain receptors, tougher exterior. I haven’t had a hornache in almost a year and we can much more easily power through to finish a spell. Also, we cast way faster, so there's less chance of a hit landing right then.” The filly wraps her forelegs around his neck and squeezes him tight. “I can’t begin to tell you how awful a miscast can be!”

“Ours are even better than mine was right after you know what,” he agrees, nodding absently while watching the filly on the stage finish up her song. “Way less pain and nigh uninterruptible casting.”

Ferric looks at Dawn and mumbles, “We’re up next,” in an anxious tone.

The aqua filly learns down and nuzzles into her sister’s mane. “You’ll do great, sissy! Don’t worry!”

“Yeah, Red, you’ll nail it, I’m sure,” Cure encourages, snickering at the horrible pun. A round of disappointed sighs escapes the group, save Sapphire who giggles from atop her sister’s withers.

“I swear, dude, your jokes are worse than my sire’s.”

“Nothin’s wrong with third place, bro.”

“Third… place?”

“Yeah, ya know… since he is Silver after all,” he says with a big grin, then reaches over and gives Sapphire a high hoof.

“Thank the maker he’s not doing a comedy skit,” Coast absently mumbles.

“Our act will be hilarious!” Sapphire defends, scowling at the cerulean grump. “Way better than yours,” she huffs, turning away.

Coast levels a flat stare at the filly and growls, “Only ‘cause I didn’t sign up!”

Sapphire crosses her forehooves and gives an exaggerated nod, declaring, “Exactly!”

Conversation stops as Miss Apple takes the stage, thanks the filly up there and gives her some words of encouragement. “Alright, everypony! Up next with a demonstration of her skills with a hammer, Ferric Shine and her assistant, Dawn Glow!”

The girl nudges her sister off of her withers, picks up her two mallets, and makes her way up to the stairs on their side of the stage. Dawn hops off of Cure, lifts the props they came up with, and follows her up while the other foals and parents cheer her on. The dark filly approaches their teacher and passes her the mallets, showing her they’re wood instead of metal. Dawn trots to the far side of the stage and sets the bucket down.

“Just be careful, dear. Don’t let one slip out of your grip, okay?”

“I know, Miss Apple. They won’t.”

Dawn levitates out a round piece of cork Cure had made for the show and presents it to Miss Apple. The white mare looks at it for a moment then nods in approval, vacating the stage to get out of the way.

“Ready?” Dawn calls.

The shy filly faces her and gives a single nod.

Dawn promptly tosses the cork at the girl in a lazy arc right at her. Ferric stays still until just before the cork gets in range, then strikes out with speed and precision, batting it away with ease. Stomps and cheers ring out from the audience as Dawn picks up two pieces, launching them one right after the other, both of which are swatted away almost lazily.

The unicorn filly begins firing more and more balls at Ferric, launching two, three, or four at a time, only a rare ball succeeding at getting past her or managing to hit her. Finally, Dawn reaches in the bucket and grabs a few with her hoof, continuously launching them with her horn while making them arc and zigzag in midair and throwing them at the same time.

To the wild cheers of everypony, Ferric begins masterfully twirling the hammers around in her hooves, smacking corks left and right. The front few rows of the audience catch a few ricochets, ignoring them as they watch in awe. Some of the younger foals start running around collecting them, throwing them back up at the young padawan while shouting in glee.

“I have to go after that?!” Rising wails in a panic, a look of horror on her face.

“It’s a completely different act, though,” Cure says, reassuring the girl. “I’m pretty confident nopony will be throwin stuff at ya, RP.”

“It would probably be even more interesting if we did, though!” Sapphire suggests. The scowl sent her way is aptly interpreted as a no.

“Round two, Ferric!” Dawn shouts, having gone through most of the bucket.

She starts shooting them slower again, watching as the muscular earth pony, instead of slapping the corks away, begins knocking them back instead, landing a few back in the bucket only to be fired right back.

The crowd waits, watching with rapt attention as, finally out of pieces of cork, Dawn kicks the bucket right at her friend. Her right hoof swings down, smacking the bucket, opening down, directly into the stage. The left hoof follows, both mallets stacked on their heads as the filly throws her hooves in the air and takes a bow, bathing in the cheers and stomps from the crowd.

“Saph, your sister is freakin scary,” Heavy quietly observes. The other foals can only nod in mute agreement at the amazing display.

“Mmhmm! She’s the best! She’s been practicing since we got back.”

“That’s like… only three weeks ago,” Coast notes.

“Yup!”

Cure cringes at the implications. “I think I’ve said it before, but Sergeant Song has wingblades on her cutie mark. Under no circumstances is anypony to piss her off.” Another round of nods goes around the group as Ferric and Dawn make their way off the stage.

“One last round for Ferric Shine and Dawn Glow, everypony!” Miss Apple calls. Cure distinctly hears cheering shouts from Solar and a loud whistle from Starlight somewhere out in the crowd.

Rising sits on her haunches, her saxophone on a strap against her belly. Cure can tell she’s panicking, so he sits up and wraps her in a hug from the side. “Hey, don’t worry, RP. You’ll do great, just like yesterday. Just remember what I showed you; focus on the magic, feel it, and just… let it out. Out your lips into the saxophone, that is. Not… ya know… somewhere else,” he vaguely adds. “While that particular wind instrument might get a few laughs I don’t think that’s what you’re going for.”

She turns to look at him, scowling at his crass humor. He smiles broadly at the girl and gives her a gentle push towards the stage. “See? Not nervous anymore, are ya? Go on,” he says, shooing her away, “you’ll do great.”

The filly gives a firm nod, takes a deep breath, rotates the sax onto her back, and makes her way up to the stage. She gives Ferric and Dawn each a hoofbump on the way and compliments their performance.

“Woo! Go Sissy! Good job!” Sapphire eagerly cheers, leaping up to hug the bigger filly as the pair return. Ferric blushes at the attention and adulation from the group, but accepts it with a smile.

Up on the stage Miss Apple waves the yellow filly up and over to where she’s standing. Seeing her obvious discomfort, she pulls her against her haunch as she tells the crowd, “Rising Pitch, everypony! She started playing the saxophone back in… January?” she asks as she leans down to be closer to the filly.

“Mmhmm. Just after my ninth birthday,” Rising quietly answers.

Miss Apple sits back up straight and repeats, “Just after she turned nine in January! This will be her first public performance, everypony, so give her a big, encouraging round of applause!” As the crowd stomps and claps their hooves, her teacher leans down and quietly reassures her, giving her one last sideways squeeze hug before stepping back out of the way.

Rising takes a deep breath, sits on her rear, rotates the sax around her torso, brings the instrument to her lips, and plays. The music fills the air and, on reflex, Cure feels himself rocking slowly side to side, humming along with the melody. Midway through, he finds that he simply can’t help himself; he begins singing aloud, though quietly, with the tune.

“The colors of the rainbow,
so pretty in the sky.
Are also on the faces
of the ponies going by -”

“Dude?” Heavy calls, shaking him lightly from the side.

“Huh? What?” Cure asks, snapping out of it and looking around in confusion. Dawn is right in front of him, a worried look on her face. He exhales a sigh of relief, glad to see he wasn’t loud enough to draw anypony else’s attention.

“Are you okay?” Coast asks, as much in confusion as in concern.

“What the hay happened?!” he asks through clenched teeth.

“You just… started singing,” Dawn explains. “Have you heard this before?”

He leans his head back and lets out a deep sigh, calming before he answers, “Yeah, she heard me humming it on our trip. Said she wanted to play it for the show. You’ve never heard it before?”

“Only when she was practicing it,” Coast answers. “I didn’t know it was a song too. I figured it was something she got… well, I guess she did get it on our trip, but I meant when she got her mark at the opera house.”

Sapphire excitedly cheers, “You were really good though! You should’a gone up there with her!”

Cure cringes at the idea, already none too thrilled with the fact he apparently got absorbed into the magic of the music. “Eh, maybe some other time,” he halfheartedly suggests.

“I think she’s almost done,” Heavy points out, refocusing the group on her short performance. Sure enough, only a few seconds later the music comes to an end and, to nopony’s surprise, cheers and stomps ring out from the crowd as Miss Apple skips over to sit beside the filly and pulls her against her side in another hug. The comely teacher nudges the girl a little and whispers something to her, prompting Rising to rotate the sax onto her back and take a bow before nearly skipping off the stage.

Heavy and Cure watch in amusement as the fillies all pile over her upon her triumphant return. With a nudge and a jerk of his head, the latter gets up and joins in the hug, the gray colt following suit only a moment later.

With only Cure and Sapphire yet to perform from their group, they all sit down and watch the next act while Rising puts her sax back in the case. Dawn goes over to help, casting Cleaning on the unit a few times to remove any spit buildup while Rising removes a few of the parts and wipes them down with a clean cloth. Cure assumes she’s getting the moisture out of the unit, but without any experience or memories of ever playing an instrument, he can only guess.

The filly on the stage is doing some kind of speed painting act and, from the looks of it, isn’t half bad. The image of the schoolhouse from the outside is quickly taking shape, even if it is a little on the abstract side of the scale.

He finds his attention going back to his friend, quietly thinking to himself about learning an instrument at some point. Edward always wanted to learn the piano, but never had the drive needed to take the time. Cure doesn’t think he’s much better in that department, but with his massive advantages the time required to gain proficiency is far, far less. It makes him wonder how a pony could even play one; presumably it would take a level of skill with the TK field that few practice enough to achieve.

Done cleaning her instrument, Rising thanks Dawn for the help, then leans over and gives the girl a grateful nuzzle. She puts everything back in the case and clasps it shut, then turns and sees Cure watching the pair with a placid smile on his face. Realizing he’s caught, instead of quickly glancing away like many young colts would, he instead smiles even more broadly at them and beckons them over with a tilt of his head.

Rising feels her cheeks burn as she rushes over to sit behind and to his left, resting her forelegs over his croup. She gives Dawn a look and tilts her head at the colt’s withers. The unicorn rolls her eyes, but, just like the day before, she takes her reserved spot on his withers. Cure leans his head back, resting his brow under her chin, smirking when, out of the corner of his eye, he catches her tail lazily swishing back and forth in contentment.

They sit and watch a few more acts until, finally, it’s their turn. As soon as Miss Apple calls them up, Sapphire whips her cape around her withers to land in her back and latches it on the front. She pronks up the stairs, onto the stage, dashes for the center in front of the teacher, and shouts, “Make way, make way for the Great and Powerful HOOFDINI!” as she throws her hooves in the air.

A loud throat clear behind her has her barely turn her head to look back at the straight-faced colt. “And her humble assistant, Mortimer,” she adds with exactly zero excitement.

“Charmed,” he greets in a flat tone.

“Prepare yourselves, one and all, for the most amazing display of magic you’ve ever seen! I know what you’re all thinking,” she lifts her hat, showing the crowd a very poorly made paper horn taped to her head before yanking it off and tossing it carelessly behind herself. “‘How can an earth pony do magic?’ The truth is that earth ponies are just as magical as unicorns,” she holds her hoof up to her muzzle and stage whispers, “They just don’t want you to know, so shh!

“Some of these tricks are very complex, though, I assure you! So ladies and gentlestallions, do not attempt any of these at home! The skills you are about to witness are the result of decades of experience and countless replacement assistants. Casting these spells when unprepared may cause you to accidentally, FLOAT AWAY!” she shouts, pointing both forehooves at the colt.

“Must we really, madam?” he asks with a put upon sigh as he begins slowly lifting off. Just like he’d explained to the princess, he’s holding a layer of lighter air all around himself while reducing his own weight. Without wings it’s nearly impossible to control flight direction, but it’s not a problem for simple up and down in an area with little wind.

As Cure floats up, Sapphire pulls a small length of rope out of her cloak and ties it around his hoof. “I am not a foal’s toy, madam,” he stiffly complains.

“Quiet, Morton! You’re ruining my fun!”

The crowd cheers and stomps as she drags him around the stage like a balloon. After a quick back and forth he complains, “I believe my lunch is floating up, madam… might I be let back down?”

Sighing dramatically, she releases the rope, points her hooves, and shouts “DOWN, BOY!” at the colt. His eyes go wide for a moment before he releases the air that’s holding him afloat and loudly crashes to the stage. At his groan she gently kicks him in the side. “Back on your hooves, Mort-Mort! We’re just getting started!” A few parents in the audience are slightly concerned, but she quickly assures them, “Don’t worry, he’s fine!”

“Yes, madam,” he weakly calls, staggering as he stands back up. He smiles and winks at the audience to reassure them that he’s okay, then tosses the length of rope off the stage.

“This next trick is in honor of her majesty!” Sapphire shouts. “I’m sure everypony’s wondered, ‘How did she get to be so tall?’ You may think it's just 'cause she's an alicorn, but that's not it! The Great and Powerful Hoofdini has discovered her secret! Foreleg!” she demands, poking him in the side.

Snout wrinkled in distaste, he huffs and slowly lifts his leg for her. She whips off her cape, wrapping it around his leg so his hoof is visible, then grabs the appendage with both forehooves and begins pretending to pull with all her might. Nothing happens for a moment until, slowly, the leg begins extending out. Murmurs of wonder can be heard from the crowd with some of the parents looking a little queasy. “This feels quite odd, madam,” Cure faux complains.

“Quiet, Morgan! We’re almost there!” She pulls his leg out nearly a meter before finally stopping, wiping a nonexistent bead of sweat off her brow, and nodding in approval. “There we go, everypony! The princess’s secret revealed!” she shouts, pulling off her cape. Gasps and shouts erupt from the crowd at the stretch of pure white foreleg that’s exposed, contrasting harshly against his otherwise blue coat.

Wide-eyed, the colt stares at the leg for a second, moving it up and down and bending it at the elbow. “I suspect you used the wrong setting, madam,” he urgently suggests.

“Nah,” she replies, waving dismissively. “It’s only got one setting. You should see what happens when we use it on your -”

“MADAM!” Cure scolds, taking a half step away. The distinct sound of a facehoof is heard behind him where Miss Apple is standing.

“- mane… what?” she finishes.

“Oh,” he mumbles, visibly calming. Regaining his stoic visage, he ducks his head in a shallow bow. “Apologies, madam.”

“Think nothing of it, Morty-poo,” she graciously allows. “So… do the others or…?” she asks leadingly.

“I humbly request you undo it, madam.”

“Fiiine!” she calls, wrapping her cape back around his leg. Rather than push the hoof in she grabs his ear and starts working it up and down like a lever, swiftly cranking the appendage overtop his protests. “Just a second, Mortilicious! We’re almost there!”

She stops when he whispers “Now” and unwraps his shorter, still white leg. “Eh… It’ll go back to normal in a day or two,” she dismisses. Rolling her eyes at his scowl, she re-wraps it, claps her hooves, and pulls the cape away from his now blue leg. “Happy now?” she snidely asks.

“A thousand thanks, madam.”

“You bet, Mortypie!” she shouts, gently patting his cheek. “Now my next trick’s a classic!” she calls, taking off her hat and showing the inside to the crowd. “Go ahead, Mori, reach on in there and pull Mr. Fluffybuns out!”

Cure looks warily at the hat, then meets her eyes, then glances back and forth a few more times. His ears sag as he sits on his haunches and reaches into the hat, digging around for several seconds. “Are you sure you have the correct hat, madam?” he asks with furrowed brows.

She shrugs and responds, “I dunno, probably,” just before he stills. Cure slowly pulls his hoof back out of the hat, bringing along a snarling, thrashing opossum. “Whoops! Guess not!” she shouts as he crams the opossum back into the hat, then snatches it out of her hooves and slams it, opening down, onto the stage, trapping the critter inside. He makes a few small holes and holds the hat down long enough for him to reabsorb the biomatter into his forelegs, then slowly lifts it up to reveal nothing underneath.

Sapphire takes the hat, showing the empty interior to the crowd. A round of stomps and cheers ring out as she tosses the hat back on her head and pats him on his withers. “Good thinkin, Mort! I knew I hired ya for a reason!”

“Your praise sustains me, madam,” he stoically responds.

“You have time for one more trick,” Miss Apple gently calls from behind them.

Cure doesn’t react, but Sapphire looks over and gives the mare a nod. “For my final trick of the day, I present to you, The Box of Mysteries!” she calls, then stares at Cure. When nopony moves he glances her direction, raises a brow, and points a hoof at his chest. “Yes, dummy! Go!” she shouts, waving him off the stage.

He runs over to the side and quickly returns carrying a body-sized box on his back along with two plain wooden slats. Question marks and glittery stars decorate the unit; another product of Cure’s plants and his Transmutation abilities.

The box itself is just thin wood, as are the traditionally metal pieces like the hinges and clasps on the two halves. For the glitter he simply used the same zirconia powder he added to his skeletal system and embedded it directly into the wood to create a flat, smooth, but sparkly surface.

Six holes are cut in it. The base of the box has four for his legs. A larger hole is on one end and a smaller, U-shaped hole is cut at the top of the back end for his tail. The box is short and narrow enough that it barely contains his barrel.

He sets the slats and box on the stage and stands it on its end, then undoes the latches holding the lid shut and flips it open. Just to show that other than the holes the unit is solid, he waves their teacher over and reaches inside, showing there’s no hidden compartments or anything. Miss Apple inspects it, gives the crowd a nod, and takes a few steps back to watch while Cure climbs in.

He pokes his head out the front and slides his legs through their holes, then stands while keeping the bottom held against his belly. At his whispered instructions the teacher latches the lid shut, trapping his barrel inside before stepping back again.

While Cure and Miss Apple make a show of him getting ready, Sapphire stands to the side to address the audience. “While my assistant gets himself situated, let me quickly reassure everypony that this is perfectly safe! However, I must emphasize again, DO NOT TRY THIS AT HOME!” She pauses a moment to look around the audience and calls out, “Everypony understand?”

At the murmured agreements, she turns and walks around the box to stand behind Cure, opposite the audience and just ahead and to the left of their teacher. She once again unclasps her cloak and spreads it over the box, covering the side facing the audience and the top.

“MANNULUS DIFFINDO!” she shouts as she slides two panels into the middle from the back. She whips her cape back around her neck and clasps it back in place. “Turn for the crowd Morticia!”

Gasps and somewhat hesitant applause can be heard from the crowd as Cure’s two halves both rotate separately, balancing independently on his fore and hind legs with his tail and face both towards the crowd. The tail swishes once, slapping him in his incredibly unamused face.

“Do you mind?” he drolly asks.

The pair had practiced this the day before; so long as his bottom half stays within a couple meters, he can still simulate nerve signals directly with his talent. The secondary cardiopulmonary system with the insect adaptations are enough to keep everything healthy for hours as long as he isn’t doing anything too wild.

The hardest part is moving organs around internally enough for there to be roughly a single spot in the middle where Cure could split himself. A significant portion of the length of a pony’s barrel is taken up by the lungs and the digestive tract, so moving parts forwards and backwards in a way that worked was quite challenging.

Secondary to that, balancing each half independently is somewhat of a challenge. The difficulty of doing so without a hardline connection is why hind leg movement will be minimized during this trick.

Deviating from the script, Sapphire reaches over and pushes his back half. Unable to compensate, it tips over and lands on its side, kicking futily in the air. “Madam is so abusive,” he says in a plaintive tone. The crowd watches in mute wonder and horror as his hind legs struggle to kick hard enough to roll the box back over to stand. “Do you require assistance?” he asks. “One stomp for yes, two for no.”

Laid on its side, the hind half taps a single hoof on the stage once. “Very well,” he sighs, walking over only on his forelegs. He leans down, bracing his brow against the top of the box, opposite his hooves. “Kindly push with your right hoof,” he commands. A single tap sounds again, then the hoof pushes against the stage as he provides a brace, lifting with his neck at the same time.

“Don’t worry, everypony. He’ll get there sooner or later,” Sapphire announces in a bored tone.

It only takes a moment for his hind legs to get high enough to stand back upright. “Don’t move, please,” he requests. Once again a single stomp answers him. Nodding in acceptance, he turns and positions himself so the boxes are aligned. “If it pleases madam?” he stoically intones.

“I suppose,” she grumbles as she approaches the joined halves. “Celestia knows I ain’t helping ya potty.”

“Madam is too kind.”

“Indeed,” she immediately agrees. Once again wrapping her cape around the box while he’s still standing, she calls out “MANNULUS REPARO!” and pulls the slats back out. With her cape back around her neck she flips the latches open. The weight of the box causes the lid to fly open and fall to the stage, leaving behind the whole and undamaged colt behind.

Hat in her right hoof, Sapphire throws both forelegs in the air with a loud, “TA DAAA!” Though most of the ponies give thunderous stomps of approval and shouted cheers, Cure notices that his friends’ parents are far more subdued. Emerald looks decidedly more green than her usual blue while Haze sits wide-eyed, mouth agape simply staring. At least Solar enjoyed the act; he’s cracking up and clapping loudly even if his marefriend is a little more reserved.

He’s beginning to suspect that the ponies that are more familiar with the details surrounding his capabilities are, for whatever reason, less excited about the performance. At least his family seems to have enjoyed it. Lemon couldn’t close the shop, but his sire, Amethyst, Title, Cherry, and Lotus are all clapping loudly. His dam is too, but her smile seems a tad more forced than he expected.

Oh well, I guess magic shows aren’t for everypony, he admits to himself.

Chapter 72: Wergild

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Chapter 73: Expedient Expedition

Saturday, June 6th, 909 AB (8 days later)
Morning

Cure lifts his head slightly, nuzzles his chin up and around the filly’s horn, and rubs his right cheek against the little spoon’s left, sighing in contentment. Ferric stirs behind him, yawning and wiggling closer, then stretches her left hind leg, shaking the muscles loose before dropping it over top of his. The purple wing on the other side of Dawn tells him where Drift ended up, but he’s not sure where Heavy or the rest of the girls are.

Everypony had been able to come over for a sleepover last night, both as a way to celebrate the family’s first Friday in their new home and as a farewell sendoff for the colt. It will be the first time Cure will be away from his parents more than overnight, as well as the first time he’s not had any of his friends nearby. They’ll be arriving the morning of the eighteenth, which will give them a day to recover before the festivities begin.

Cure will be busy working for much of their visit, something he’s repeatedly warned them all about. Everypony seems to understand this will be more of a business trip than a pleasure one, at least for him. They’ll be free to join in the festivities, but he’ll be busy either at the hospital, rehearsal for the coronation, or trying to get in some much-needed rest.

Content to stay laying in bed as long as possible, Cure sighs and rests his head on the older filly’s foreleg. Ferric’s growth has started to become evident; the girl that was only an inch or so taller than him has grown nearly two inches just since their return from the capital.

She’s not the only one either. Since getting her mark, Drift has started noticeably growing as well. Her tribe means it’s not quite as pronounced, but she’s caught back up to Cure who had started gaining on the older girl, likely owing to getting his mark and being at peak health. Between her cut physique, routinely perfect complexion, unique wings, and absolutely stunning pattern, Cure would bet good money that more than a few colts at her school have shown an interest.

He makes note to talk to them and the rest of his friends to find out if any of them would prefer ending up slightly taller than average. The long legged look on mares is extremely sought after in pony society.

It’s not just mares, either. Taller stallions are desired more due to the perception that they’re healthier and, as a result, are more likely to sire stronger foals. There’s also the ergonomic advantage taller stallions have in the most common position; things just tend to line up better when the stallion has a hoof or two over the mare.

Rising hasn’t really started growing yet, but she won’t turn ten until next January. Cure just hopes Dawn gets her mark sometime soon. It’s going to be really awkward for both of them if he shoots up like a weed and she only grows a couple hooves. He can only imagine the stares the pair will get if he’s ten or more hooves tall and she’s still only seven or less.

Any further thoughts are interrupted when his bedroom door is opened. He turns his head to the left, extending his horn so he can “see” with his aura, but the move becomes unnecessary a second later when, with a flap of her wings, Glacial hops on the bed. She circles around behind Ferric and lays across her shoulder, giving the dark filly a nuzzle before poking at Cure’s cheek with her snout.

She nibbles at his ear, earning herself a light whack when he flicks it in agitation. With one last bite and a conciliatory lick she straightens his mussed fur up and leans in to whisper. “We made breakfast for everypony.”

“Hmm?”

“Umm… sort of. Me, Rising, and Coast helped your dam and mom.” She scrunches her snout adorably and complains, “Heavy said it’s best for him to stay out of the way, so he didn’t help and Saph…” she sighs, “she was kind of all over the place.”

“Yeah, that sounds about right. At least Heavy knows his limits, I guess. Title or Amethyst?”

“Mmhmm. Mrs. Blossom,” she confirms with a nod.

“Good, there’s probably still some left then.”

Drift leans to her left and lifts her head off the bed, looking over upside down at the pair. “What’d ya make?”

“Me and Mrs. Vines made batter for something she calls French Toast.” She nuzzles her chin against his cheek and says, “She said it’s one of your favorites.”

“Score!”

She looks back to the other pegasus and continues, “Coast and Rising cut up some apples and Mrs. Blossom said she’s going to pan fry them for a side. She also scrambled a bunch of eggs, but said she didn’t need much help with those. Your dam said she’ll have everything ready in a few minutes. You awake, Dawn?”

“Am now,” the filly grouses as she stretches her legs forwards and back.

“I’m up,” Ferric says, otherwise not moving at all.

“C’mon, I’m hungry,” Drift demands as she rolls to her hooves. She doesn’t hesitate to hop down and head out the door, though it sounds like she’s making a pit stop to wash up on the way.

Glacial hops off to follow, calling back for everypony to hurry up as she makes her way out.

“As much as I would love to stay like this all day,” Cure sighs an aborted yawn, “we do need to get moving. The pegasi will be waiting for me at ten, and it’s gotta be at least seven thirty already.” He gives Dawn one last squeeze and another nuzzle into her mane, then lets her roll out of his embrace before following, himself.

Ferric also lets out a big sigh but nods as she rolls to her hooves. Not wanting her to feel left out, Cure gives her a nuzzle too, brushing against the left side of the filly’s cheek before wrapping his neck around hers and resting his chin on her withers. “Thanks for the cuddles, Red. I don’t normally get to be the little spoon.”

The sudden uptick in heat makes it hard to stifle a chuckle, but the blushing filly would just be more embarrassed, which would not help him in his goal of improving her confidence. With one last squeeze he lets out another deep sigh and he separates to make his way to breakfast. He splits off to the upstairs restroom and the girls head down to the main level one before regrouping in the dining room that’s as large as the living room in their old house.

Cure could easily afford to buy a sizable mansion at this point. Sure it would give the family more room, but they won’t need it anytime soon. Title, despite her desire for a colt, is going to hold off for a little while until Savvy is a bit older.

With the promise of an indefinite lifespan, perfect health, and unassailable financial security there’s just no huge rush anymore. It’s not a matter of “if” but “when” thanks to the colt’s talent. Lemon and Amethyst have talked about having a couple, but are holding off until next year.

The family had spent some time shopping for furniture for the new house. Cure had suggested he just make everything, but his parents had a good point; he had previously been making an absolute fortune; far more in a week than a typical family can expect to earn in a month.

Now he was making twice as much due to the increased number of appointments and the new wing modification options he began offering. Since he doesn’t have many expenses there’s just not a good reason not to put some of that money back into the economy.

Of course, the expectation wasn’t that Cure was going to pay for all of the furniture anyhow. He’d downright demanded they let him chip in on the house, but aside from the appliances he had already bought and furnishing his own room, they paid for everything else.

The table, while longer than the one they’d had, isn’t quite big enough for five adults, eleven foals, and a high chair, which is fine this time as his family had all gotten up and eaten before they did. Like the ones in restaurants, fold out benches are set into the side of the unit so that foals and pegasi can climb up and still reach everything.

Cure brushes against Dawn’s back while he walks behind her to hop up to the only vacant seat that has evidently been left for him. Ferric is to his left, still blushing faintly from the affection upstairs. Her sister is smiling broadly while poking at her left side and asking why she seems so unusually happy.

Heavy is across from the aqua menace, sitting close enough to Coast that their haunches are touching. The pegasi fill in the rest of the other side of the table with Glacial across from Cure and Drift to her left. With none of the parents joining the group, Rising ends up at the end to Cure’s right, seated between Dawn and Drift.

“‘Mornin, Ladies,” he calls, looking around the room, “and gentlestallion, I suppose. Thanks for helpin with breakfast and, or staying out of the way of said help.”

“Anytime, bro,” Heavy quickly responds, earning a light scowl from the three that helped. “Me ‘n Saph worked really hard on it. Thank goodness your dam was there to lend a hoof, though. Barely anything got burned at all.”

“Nice. Well done,” Cure compliments, nodding in approval.

“He didn’t do squat,” Coast insists while bumping the colt. “Me, Glacial, and Rising did all… well, some of the work while they played with your sisters and pretended to supervise.”

“Pretend supervision is an important job skill,” Cure refutes. “My understanding is that most workplaces, especially in government, have pretend supervisors running the majority of projects. Especially if they put the words ‘Special’ or ‘Priority’ in the name. Pretend supervisors are a key part of those teams’ leadership in particular.”

“Yeah!” the colt readily agrees. “Maybe I’ll get a cutie mark in supervision, then I can tell ponies what to do and get paid for it!”

“That’s not what being a supervisor is like at all,” Dawn argues. “Just ask my sire, he’ll tell you how awful it can be.”

“What’s so hard?” he asks. “Just tell ponies what to do and, ya know… they do it. Right?”

Ferric snorts at the suggestion. “We tell ponies to check their tools every year in January. They bring ‘em all in dull, worn, and needing fixed up around March in a panic ‘cause they didn’t.”

“I’ve not had to supervise anypony,” Cure admits, “but in my experience, ponies in supervision spend most’a their time dealin with adults actin like they oughta still be in school. Would you want Miss Apple’s job, just with grownups instead of foals?”

An unsure look crosses Heavy’s face as he considers the suggestion, but Cure does have an alternative idea. “Of course, if you were to get some kinda supervision cutie mark it may help you figure out how to get around that stuff. If that happened I’d hire you in an instant just to run all or some of my businesses for me.”

“Business es?” Glacial questions.

“Somepony’s been doin some scheming!” Sapphire calls in a sing-song. She leans forward to look past her sister and, with a broad, eager smile asks, “Are ya hiring?”

“Dunno, Saph. Maybe more like partnering or, kinda, delegating.” He turns back to Glacial and starts to explain, “BodyWorks is just the start, babe.” Cure pauses as his dam and Amethyst walk in carrying plates, drinks, and carafes of syrup.

Vines gives her son a kiss on his cheek when she puts his plate in front of him, a bit of affection he has absolutely no problem returning despite his friends watching. Pony society is, after all, far more accepting of physical affection, so the thought of teasing him probably doesn’t even cross most of their minds.

After a round of thanks is given everypony starts digging into their breakfast with gusto, enjoying the sweet confection they’ve never had before. Savoring the dish for as long as possible, Cure continues talking between bites. “So anyhow, I’ve talked to my parents about starting a property acquisition and remodeling business.

“With my mom’s special talent,” he gestures with a wing towards the kitchen that Amethyst and Vines retreated to, “she would be awesome for identifying undervalued homes. I can use my plants to go in, remodel a house, fix it all up, and then resell it for, hopefully, anywhere from a twenty to fifty percent increase in price.

“Then there’s the whole flight suit market I’m thinkin of tapping into when I live in Canterlot next year. I’d like to fly up to Cloudsdale and get a look at the stores up there and see what kinda competition I’m looking at, but I bet I could sell suits like yours,” he nods to the pegasi, “for maybe a grand apiece.

“They would probably be considered a luxury product at that price point, so I dunno how many I could sell, but I could probably find a store willin to carry them, then every month send ‘em a dozen or so in various sizes.”

“I’m not sure most ponies will pay a thousand bits for a flight suit,” Glacial slowly voices. With a grimace she adds, “That’s… a lot of bits, Cure. Probably worth it, but still, that’s more than most ponies can afford.”

“They seem really nice, though, and they’re really durable,” Rising points out. “How long should one normally last?”

“A really long time,” Cure answers. “They’re extremely high quality. How much does a normal flight suit cost?”

“For an adult?” Glacial asks in clarification. At his nod she explains, “A hundred, maybe a hundred and twenty five bits for a plain cotton one, which are awful in bad weather. Wool are about twice as much because the sheep charge a lot. Custom tailoring also costs more, but I don’t know. Another hundred or so?” she asks, turning the question over to Drift. The darker filly just shrugs and hums in agreement, not stopping her eating.

Cure is aware that clothing is far, far more expensive, relatively speaking, compared to human economies. There isn’t really mass production and the demand is a very small fraction for common ponies. Foals generally don’t bother with flight suits and they’re not really even necessary for mares.

Stallions, on the other hoof, typically don one before heading out so their gear isn't flapping in the wind or in everypony else’s faces. They’re not strictly necessary, but as far as clothing is concerned it’s by far the most widespread ‘day to day’ use in Equestrian society.

“Eh… maybe that isn’t worth it then. Or maybe it would be a custom order thing. I’ll be busy enough. I don’t think I’ll wanna spend a bunch of time making suits for only a hundred or so bits profit on each one.”

“How much time would it take to make a suit?” Drift asks.

Cure has to pause, looking up in thought, “If I had a scan of the pony? Seconds. If I had to go by the measurements alone? Probably still less than a minute. Hay, maybe the two of you could go in business together,” he suggests, pointing between the two pegasi. “Glacial can be the salespony taking orders, getting the measurements, and giving that to me, then Drift can do the deliveries. It’s somethin to do to make a few bits ‘till you get your mark, at least.”

“That… sounds awesome!” Drift excitedly cheers. She turns fully to the platinum filly with a hopeful look.

“Sure, we could try it. Just out of curiosity, what’ll the pay be?”

“I’ll barely be doing anything. How about twenty percent for me and you two split the other eighty?” Cure suggests. “I only have a couple kilograms of dust here, so I would need more if lotsa ponies want ‘em enchanted.”

“I doubt many will,” Drift argues. “That’s definitely not something you see on most suits.”

“Cool. I’ll let you two sort out all the details like the business name and stuff. Just keep in mind that come next fall I’ll be moving, so this is probably a very temporary thing. Or we can look at shipping things, but that will drive up the cost.”

Both girls nod with Drift voicing their understanding. “That’s fine! Like you said, it’s just a way to make some bits until we’re old enough to find a real job.”

Dawn takes the opportunity to chime in, “I can supply the crystals if anypony wants the enchanted ones.”

“Is there any chance you could make toys for us to sell?” Coast asks. “The ones you made for Summer, Fall, and your sisters are way nicer than what they have at the store.”

“Sure. I have a plant-based foam I can make. We may need to play with the springiness to get them just right. The only issue is that plushies like that are cheap, so I’m not sure it’s worth the hassle. A nice stuffed animal toy is… what, twenty bits?”

“My sisters wear normal dolls out in a few months,” Heavy starts. “Mom is always stitching ‘em back together. They’re like twenty-five bits. The cloth you used is way tougher, so maybe we could sell ‘em for forty?”

“I can ask dam to sell them at her store!” Sapphire suggests. “Maybe just a couple shelves by the door.”

“Like them,” he waves to the pegasi, “I’ll leave that all entirely up to you all to sort out. I’m gonna be busy enough. Maybe after breakfast I can make y’all a few dozen different toys so you can test the market. I could make some suits in the typical adult sizes while I’m at it. Other than bunnies what sounds like it would sell?”

The smaller, foal sized plush toys and pegasus flight suits weigh almost nothing. So little, in fact, that five kilograms of material was enough to make twenty suits and forty toys. With several dozen adult pegasus scans at a resolution of well above five million DPI3, Cure has a pretty good grasp on what size suit is needed to fit the average mare within acceptable tolerances.

He only has a dozen stallion scans, but pony sizes don’t seem to vary too much within the same tribe. A couple inches, or five centimeters, variance in one direction or the other means that eighty percent at just about the average and ten percent a half hoof in either direction should do the trick, at least for an initial roll-out.

For stallions he’d even included some additional support and a buttoned fly just like human underwear would have. It occurred to him that this could very well be the first time in Equestrian history that proper ball-supporting clothing options have been made specifically to increase stallion comfort. Clearly this will go down as his single greatest achievement in his life and he can’t wait to tell the princess about it.

As for other clothing options, Heavy had come up with a good suggestion; sets of onesies for foals. The summer foals can have the first few sizes be thinner for the warmer weather, then a few thicker, wool-stuffed sets whereas the winter foals would be the other way around. It’s a good idea, but Cure would need supplies that are foal-safe; the last thing he wants is to find out one somehow pried off a button and choked on it.

He considers trying to figure out velcro, but isn’t sure how it works, exactly. He knows it’s a set of loops that somehow mesh together, but hasn’t spent much time experimenting to figure out how. That’s just another item that gets added to his list of projects for now. He figures with his rapid ability to prototype variations he should be able to figure it out quickly enough, but not before he has to depart.

As for the animals selected for plush toys, Cure made a wide range of “cuteified” critters including bears, pigs, dogs, cats, and, of course, bunnies. He used his original cutie mark as a maker’s mark, placing it on the inside of the suits near the seam and on a hind paw of each of the toys, and added a second one on the inside of toys to thwart any would-be copycats that will inevitably crop up.

Knowing that he wouldn’t be back in town for just shy of three weeks, Cure also enchanted a few crystals with Prestidigitation and showed his friends how to use them. Dawn was happy to offer her help as well, so recoloring anything to a customer’s specifications won’t be a problem.

Most of the remaining time before he had to leave was spent being aggressively babied by his dam. His sire and the other mares got some love and affection from the colt, but they could tell the idea of her son going on ahead worried her.

Cure is certain that if it weren’t for the princess herself assuring his safety then he would be forced to ride the train with a parent instead. It was only four months prior that she wouldn’t even let him book the spa visit without a parental escort, but with Princess Celestia saying he’ll be perfectly safe she’s willing to let him go a third of the way across the country.

The fact that a half dozen elite guards from Fort Meadow will provide escort helped alleviate much of the concern. Her son’s own capabilities, including his demonstrated ability to subdue literally dozens of attackers without even fighting, helped quite a bit more. That he is allegedly unkillable offers almost no comfort whatsoever, and he wisely did not comment about it. Every plan he has is geared to never finding out if that’s true or not, so there’s no point in bringing it up.

With thoroughly packed bit pouches and a promise that he’ll Send one last goodbye as he passes over, Cure gives everypony one last round of love before trotting out the door towards the pond. Once there he slips away into the woods, adopts his Riddle disguise, unfurls his wings, grows out his suit, and takes to the air towards Baltimare.

He paces himself flying into the city so as to not stand out too much. A lone pegasus colt flying around isn’t exactly unusual even at his age. His slightly larger frame makes him seem a little older than he is, so nopony really pays him any mind. He makes his way to the park near the zoo and ducks into some bushes before casting Invisibility and finishing his Serpentus alterations, then heads south to pick up a couple dozen doughnuts.

Cure hadn’t gathered much notice flying through the air. The golden color of his suit certainly stood out against the morning sky, but most ponies don’t look up and, interesting as it is to see an alicorn flying about, that’s all he was really doing; going from point A to point Beakery. There were certainly a few eyes following him, doing what he now calls the “alicorn gawk,” but some “your highness!” shouts and lots of smiling nods in greeting are the worst of it.

His sire had a good point; he can’t expect ponies to ever get used to seeing him until he goes out enough that they start seeing him as just another pony. It’s possible, he supposes, that at some point his presence may not gather much more attention than anypony else’s does, which will make it a lot easier to transition to a fully public persona eventually.

He can’t, after all, expect the girls to be completely unable to spend time with him in alicorn mode, especially if they enter into a long term, formal relationship. Or if he ends up as tall as Celestia. Shrink is a valid option, but he’s pretty sure that running that all the time everywhere would get tedious, not to mention the inevitable eventuality that the spell will fail or be removed at just the wrong time.

He does have a plan to deal with any potential size issue, and early testing has been extremely promising. Theorists suggest the brain is located where it is for a number of reasons. The one Ed had always heard was so that the majority of sensory inputs are nearby, allowing faster response times to external stimuli.

With the addition of faster copper wiring in his system and the confirmation that dragonscale insulation mitigates shock risk, there’s no reason why his brain needs to be where everypony else keeps theirs. With a brainbox located in his barrel it would be far easier to swap bodies, thus allowing him to immerse himself in his plant, then step out in whatever size or shape is needed for any occasion.

It’s a foolproof plan that he’s certain will be well received by everypony.

It seems like the streets are fairly busy for a Saturday morning, but given that it’s a nice sunny day and the summer heat hasn’t really set in, current conditions are about as ideal as they can be for families to get out of the house.

There’s a decent flow of ponies coming and going from the Beakery, but despite the traffic there’s plenty of room for him to swoop in for a landing. He sets down without fanfare and follows behind a pegasus stallion with his little filly on his withers and enters the shop.

<< Stoppin ta grab some doughnuts for the guards, dam. I’ll message ya when I get to Carol. >>

<< Okay, sweetie. >>

The chestnut stallion seems completely unaware of Cure’s presence, which he finds absolutely hilarious because the dude clearly notices everypony stealing glances in his general direction. Cure can only assume he thinks his daughter is just that cute which, to be fair, isn’t wrong.

The little yellow filly climbs down her sire’s back from his withers, staring over his tail at the colt. The move causes the stallion to glance back, but he doesn’t follow the girl’s gaze down and refocuses back forwards on the selection of pastries and confections available to figure out what he wants.

Everypony watches on as the filly smiles and waves a hoof at Cure, who happily responds in kind with a little wave of his own. With such an adorable audience, he can’t help but have a little fun, so he tilts his head to the right, crosses his eyes, and sticks his tongue out the left side of his muzzle, getting giggles from the cute thing.

Laying on her barrel, she holds her forehooves up beside her head like bunny ears and blows him a raspberry. Cure playfully recoils away, reaching in his mane to pull out a quickly created handkerchief. He causes some sweat to form as he wipes his face, holding the saturated handkerchief out and inspecting it as he looks between it and the cackling filly in confusion.

Shrugging his wings, he wads it into a ball and tosses it in his mouth, causing the filly to freeze and stare wide-eyed as he looks up in thought while slowly chewing. He does an exaggerated hard swallow and smacks his lips, acting like he’s trying to pick out the flavors on a complex meal. Unsatisfied with the taste, he makes a disgusted face, holding his hoof over his muzzle and puffing up his cheeks.

The squeaky giggles and shaking of the filly, along with the quiet chuckles and muffled laughter of everypony watching finally get the stallion’s attention. He cranes his neck right to look back and see what she’s laughing at and meets Cure’s eyes. He gives the colt a smile and a quick bob of his head, then turns back to the counter.

It isn’t hard to spot the instant realization sets in. The slight subconscious movements of the stallion’s ears, tail, and the shuffling of his hooves as he waits all come to an immediate and complete stop. Joints lock, breathing halts, wings raise slightly off his sides, and, ever so slowly, the stallion turns to look back again as if waiting for some great beast to pounce.

Ignoring the snickering of the watching crowd, Cure smiles and returns the greeting to the internally panicking pegasus and offers a casual “Howdy” before leaning to the side to peek around him and humming in consideration.

“Your highness?” the stallion squeaks out in question.

“Hmm?” he innocently asks.

“Would you like to,” he trails off, waving a hoof ahead of him.

Cure flicks a wing dismissively while shaking his head no. “Nah, thanks though. Just gettin a snack for the road, ya know? Go ahead, mister,” he finishes, motioning forward with his snout.

Slowly nodding in acceptance, though clearly incredibly uncomfortable, the stallion steps up to the counter and places his order. Cure can smell the anxious perspiration from the dude, but that’s just something he’ll have to deal with until everypony gets used to him.

There’s absolutely no reason the colt can come up with to explain that scared reaction, but he recognizes he doesn’t have much room to talk. He almost dropped a brick when he opened the door to find the princess standing there back in January, but at the same time, Princess Celestia standing on one’s doorstep is quite a bit different from some nearly no-name newly minted alicorn doing normal everyday things in public. He knows she draws attention when she’s out, but she’s half again the height of an earth pony stallion and has the sheer presence that fills any room she enters.

Without Cure providing any more entertainment, the filly gives him one last wave and turns around to climb back up to her sire’s withers and focus on the treats she can see to either side of his neck. The stallion finishes ordering and takes the paper bag in his teeth before hastily stepping to the side. He gives a half bow and retreats out the door, at which point Cure notices the ponies all behind him standing an extra few steps back as well.

Mentally shrugging, he steps up to the counter and rears up, giving his wings a half flap for balance. “‘Mornin, Early. Can I get a dozen glazed and another dozen mixed ta go, please?”

The griffon fixates on the horn, leans to the side to double check that he did, indeed, see wings, then shrugs and says, “Sure thing, colt. Twenty bits,” he says, stooping down to gather the requested order.

Once the exchange is made Cure calls out a quick thanks, then with a “pardon me,” makes his way past the staring crowd and out the door.

“Name and purpose of your visit?” the mare asks.

Cure stares at the earth pony guard for a second, not exactly sure how to answer. Every time he’d come with BRG3 he simply walked right past the gate, only getting a cursory glance since he was accompanied by six or seven guards, depending on if Solar was joining instead of his sire. The guard that is questioning him is certainly doing her job, it just strikes Cure as strange given the bizarre awe-filled looks he’s been getting otherwise.

“Serpentus. I’m… umm… to report to Captain Stance to meet with my aerial escort. I guess? I dunno, the princess didn’t give me specifics.”

“Do you have your paperwork?” she asks.

“I don’t think there is any paperwork?” Cure answers with a questioning lilt. Celestia didn’t send him anything, she just said to meet up with the captain Saturday morning around ten o’clock.

The unicorn watching from the guardhouse behind the gate sighs and facehooves, mumbling something under her breath. She walks out grumbling the whole time and leans her muzzle next to the earth pony’s ear. “Moron, that’s the new prince! Let him through!”

“He doesn’t have papers, though,” the guard whispers back.

“Does he have wings?” she hisses.

The earth pony looks back. Cure raises a wing, then a single brow.

“Yeah, he seems to.” Cure fluffs his feathers up slightly. “They look real,” she notes.

“Does he have a horn?!”

Cure floats a bag of doughnuts off his back, intentionally making his horn glow visibly at the same time. The mare’s eyes follow the bag, then glances between it and his horn a couple times.

“He does,” she confirms with a nod in surety. “I’m pretty sure it’s real too.”

“Then he doesn’t fucking need papers, you id…” she pauses, eyes widening as it dawns on her that Cure has evidently heard the whole conversation. She clears her throat and stands at attention. “Go right ahead your… sirness?” She pauses to consider the appropriate title, then shrugs. “The captain is awaiting your arrival at the command building.”

“Thank you corporal. Would either of you like a doughnut? I grabbed some from Early’s Beakery on the way.”

The private lights up with a bright smile, nodding eagerly. “Got any powdered jelly ones? I like grape the best!”

The unicorn sighs, shoulders sagging in disappointment at her fellow guard’s behavior. “Just a glazed if you have any, sir. Thank you, sir.”

Cure floats the bag off his back and peers in, lifting a glazed to the unicorn and a grape jelly filled powdered one to the earth pony. The latter unabashedly wags her tail as she digs in, moaning in contentment as she thanks him. The unicorn gives him a more subdued thanks again and moves back to the guardhouse, grumbling under her breath the whole way.

Cure canters past the pair towards the one that he’s pretty sure is the command building. Several patrolling squads pass by, some saluting, others offering a nod in greeting. The base is pretty small, overall, and there’s only a few buildings that have permanent guards standing in front of them. He knows one is the armory, so he heads towards the other that looks more like a typical, if more fortified, office building.

His guess is proven correct when he’s greeted and escorted to a briefing room on the first floor, just to the left of the entrance on the interior of the building. A single guard walks him there, opening the door for him, then pulling it shut behind him.

Captain Stance is there, uncovered in her golden armor, as is a pegasus stallion with a single silver bar on his pauldrons. The pair are to his left, having a discussion as he enters. To his right are several desks, much like the bullpen room he always meets BRG3 in. Cure knows the lieutenant that nearly got him killed was a mare and is long gone, so this is evidently her replacement.

The lieutenant looks younger than it feels like somepony at that rank should be, likely somewhere in his mid-twenties with no evident signs of aging. His coat is a darker blue and he has a black mane just like Cure’s sire.

“Captain, lieutenant,” he greets, floating the bag of doughnuts onto a desk. “I made a pit stop on the way to grab some doughnuts. Feel free to help yourself. I figure the squad will need to carb up for the energy since we have a lot of ground, or sky, I suppose, to cover.”

Stance gives a curt nod and a quiet thanks in acceptance and goes back to studying the map of eastern Equestria hanging on the wall.

“I’m sure they’ll appreciate that,” the pegasus says. “First Lieutenant Flowing Quill, sir,” he introduces with an offered hoofbump, “pleasure to meet you.”

“The pleasure’s mine, lieutenant.” Cure gives the hoof a bump, then looks at the taller desks and frowns. The lieutenant catches the expression and jerks his head to the wall where some raised benches are sat aside. The colt floats one over and hops up, diggin out a glazed doughnut with caramel icing he had set his eyes on while the lieutenant rejoins the captain to resume whatever they were working on.

As he takes his first bite he checks his pocket watch and sees that it’s only a few minutes before ten o’clock. He barely puts it back in his mane when there’s a knock just before the door opens, revealing two uniformed pegasi stallions. As they enter he notes one has a single gold bar and the other wears three chevrons.

Both step inside the room and, as the captain and lieutenant turn to regard them, stand at attention and salute the two officers. “Ma’am, Lieutenant Fury Dive and Sergeant Sidewinder Shift reporting.”

The captain nods and responds, “At ease,” at which point they look to the left to find Cure wiggling happily in his seat, waving a doughnut-clad hoof in greeting. “Sup?”

After getting a briefing of the intended route, along with introductions to the ponies providing escort, Cure gives the group a vague description of his capabilities; specifically, he explains that they will, essentially, not get tired so long as they stay within his horn’s range. He considers offering to modify their wings or even improve their lungs to be more avian like his own.

Ultimately he keeps the sharing of details to a minimum, though. The former, he feels, is a little too close to the new service he is offering in his civilian identity and the latter seems excessive for a single trip.

Still, the thought of beginning, at some point, to offer legitimate functional upgrades to other ponies seems far less worrisome than it was before his ascension. The concern now isn’t so much about some high ranking military officer forcing him to, but as a prince of Equestria, it may draw attention from neighbors as a form of military buildup. The dragons probably wouldn’t care since their egos make them think they’re invincible, but squadrons of flying, super strong pseudo-alicorns sounds like something that other governments of the world may take note of.

The only saving grace would be that Equestria has never sought to forcibly expand its borders into any land occupied by another sapient creature. Colonies of deer, bison, and diamond dogs exist in various regions of the country, but aside from the rare trading and occasional cultural misunderstanding, everycreature had been left mostly to their own devices.

There’s also the fact that Equestria, as it is right now, has more than enough land that there’s little reason for it to look outside. Huge swatches of land sit undeveloped all over the country, and the total population is so low that there’s simply no need to look elsewhere.

With the decision to not offer modifications to the squad, Cure has to accept that the journey will take longer than he had hoped. That being said, the route chosen couldn’t be much simpler; the squad would depart from Base Carol at ten thirty and head directly west, following the train tracks that pass the southern tip of Hollow Shades.

The first pit stop will be at the guard outpost in the city, which is only about fifty kilometers west of Baltimare proper. The only reason they’re stopping so soon is because the next city is a significant distance away.

Hollow Shades is a much smaller city than Baltimare. The population is somewhere around twenty thousand ponies, nearly eighty percent of whom are bats; an unusually high number given the population. It’s one of the largest bat population centers in the northern half of the country, though Cure isn’t sure what prompted the bats to end up there rather than somewhere farther south where it’s warmer.

As they continue west the Foal Mountains will be to their south for the first several hundred kilometers, eventually curving south just east of Foaledo. They’ll stop there for a late lunch and one last break before banking southwest around Detrot, which they will completely bypass. The last leg of the trip will loop them south around the east side of Mt. Canterhorn, then north to land directly on the castle grounds.

The anticipated travel time? Five hours. Per the princess’s instruction, if the group encounters any difficulty that will delay them beyond six, they are to give Cure privacy so that he can “notify” her immediately. She had agreed to send a dragonfire message to Captain Stance when the group arrived, who will relay the message to Bulwark and, ultimately, Cure’s parents.

Plan explained, escort stuffed full of sugar, and with an impatient colt ready to get underway, the six pegasi and single alicorn finally take off just after ten thirty. As they fly over Golden Hills he looks down, happy to see all his friends and family amongst the group of ponies waving up to him. He Sends a few last “see ya later” messages and, with the last bit of juice in the crystal, tells his family he loves them as they pass by.

Large tracts of farmland demark the edge of Golden Hills. Cure has to consciously peel his eyes away from the fields full of creatures working to grow corn, wheat, oats, and beans. He expected to exclusively see earth ponies working, but more than a few cows and an occasional bull are out in the fields too.

As beautiful as the landscape of the wilderness is, there’s simply not much to see other than trees with a single cleared swatch of land for the railroad tracks. Due to a lack of fast transportation options there’s virtually no civilization outside of a few kilometers from a city’s borders.

Twenty minutes into flying he spots Hollow Shades off in the distance slightly to the group’s right. It doesn’t take too much longer before the lieutenant points towards a building more like the station in Golden Hills than a proper Base like Baltimare has. As the group lines up to comes in for a landing two squads of guards form up in the yard with three ponies standing ahead of them.

A call of “Form up” is shouted by the lead; a solid black bat mare whose coat contrasts quite beautifully with the golden armor she’s wearing. The fifteen ponies all snap to attention and salute as the group lands.

Cure isn’t quite sure what he should do right at the moment, but since the squads are obviously assembled to greet him rather than his escort, he steps forward past Lt. Fury and nods to the lieutenant and sergeants ahead of the group. “A pleasure to meet you, lieutenant,” he calls as he approaches. “Sorry, I haven’t gotten the run down on all the proper protocols yet. At ease?” he tentatively calls.

The dark mare gives a shallow nod and, along with everypony else, relaxes her stance. “First Lieutenant Nightshade, sir. We have refreshments prepared for you inside if you would like.”

“That sounds great. We’ll be out of your manes pretty quickly, though I appreciate the formal greeting,” he calls slightly louder for everypony else to hear. “Lead the way,” he finishes, motioning to the building.

The pit stop is brief; with the issue of fatigue completely mitigated the group only stops to rehydrate, hit the facilities, and get another small snack before departing.

As the group cuts through the sky towards their next stop, Cure banks to fly closer to Lt. Fury. The stallion spares him a quick glance and raises a single brow in question. “Yo, L T. How far away is Foaledo from here?”

He looks to his right so that he and Sgt. Shift can share a look. “About a hundred and fifty kilometers sound about right?”

“Close enough,” Shift confirms, looking past the lieutenant to call back. “Are you getting tired? Do we need to turn back and hop on a train instead?”

Quickly shaking his head no, Cure explains, “Just the opposite. How fast can y’all move if you pour it on at max speed?”

“Ehh… we could be there in forty five if we could go all out. Can your magic hold out that long?”

Cure gives the pair an almost manic smile, nodding excitedly. “Damn right it can. Wanna see if we can be in Canterlot inside’a two hours?”

The two pause while considering it, share another look, and turn back to the colt with broad smiles, giving him all the answer he needs.

A knock at the door draws Celestia’s attention away from the stack of papers. “Enter,” she gently calls as she sets down the report.

A dark brown earth pony steps in the office and snaps a salute. “Lord Serpentus has nearly arrived, ma’am. He and his escort team are landing… well, probably any second now.”

“Already?” she asks, surprise evident on her face. “Did they leave earlier than planned?”

“I don’t think so, ma’am. Judging from the speed our perimeter scouts spotted them moving at, we believe they could have made it in under an hour and a half. I had to rush up here to let you know before they landed.”

“Ah, I see. I suspect Lt. Fury and his squad will need a good meal and a long night’s sleep. He probably forgot they do not have earth pony stamina. The poor dears,” she softly laments. Her horn flashes gold for an instant. It’s a sign Sgt. Bramble is familiar enough with indicating she has summoned a castle servant. Every so often she forgets to make it visible to non-unicorns, but she remembers most of the time.

The door opens to a light green unicorn servant with a broad smile. “Yes, your highness?”

“Please inform the kitchens that our expected guests have arrived early. I am quite certain that the six pegasi that accompanied young Serpentus will need a hearty meal once they are done cleaning up.”

“Certainly, your majesty. Should we prepare something special for Lord Serpentus as well or will he be joining you for lunch?”

“Hmm… I think the latter. Please prepare a place for him in the dining room. Thank you.” The unicorn bobs her head in a shallow bow and leaves the room at the dismissal. Celestia writes out and sends a brief note to inform Captain Stance of the colt’s arrival, then looks out the balcony doors. “You know, what, sergeant?”

“Ma’am?”

“It is quite lovely out today,” she says as she rises from her desk. “I believe I shall go greet them myself.”

“I’m sure they would very much appreciate that, ma’am,” he says as he opens the door. The pair move at a brisk pace, eager to greet the future prince as soon as he lands. Celestia’s guards fall in place behind her, following them through the castle and out into the courtyard.

She instantly spots the bright gold outfit Cure is wearing, but is somewhat surprised to find that, rather than looking exhausted, the six pegasi all look fresh and raring to go as they, and the colt, chat animatedly with a few of the distracted patrols that were nearby when he arrived.

She slows her trot to watch when the colt suddenly casts Enlarge on himself, assumes a martial stance, and squares off with a private. Both the mock combatants and the surrounding ponies are laughing as he rears back and throws a few silly, telegraphed jabs and dances around in front of his opponent on his hind legs. After a few teasing jeers from the crowd, the private, an armored pegasus from one of the patrolling groups, gives in and rears up on his hind legs opposite him.

With an encouraging cheer from the crowd the private takes a hesitant step forwards. The colt slaps at the private’s left forehoof with his own, catching him by surprise when, instead of being knocked away, his hoof is locked in an iron grip. With a maniacal glint and to roaring cheers, he yanks the private nearly off his hooves, stepping forwards and right and turning with a nearly dance-like move.

The private flaps his wings to regain his balance, but it’s too late. In a blink, Cure’s right foreleg wraps around the private’s barrel, the pair continue to spin with his momentum, Cure lifts him bodily in the air, and mock slams him down, holding the private just a fraction of a hoof above the ground before gently setting him down. The few nearby squads all erupt in shouts and cheers as the colt helps pull the private back up, casting a Cleaning on his armor to get the dust off.

The two share a laugh and a hoofbump as Celestia finally approaches. She can’t help but smile joyfully at the excited atmosphere. She catches the last part of the conversation between them as the surrounding guards rush to stand at attention.

“... so yeah, the picture looks kinda bad but it wasn’t fair and all ‘cause’a earth pony strength and grip. Besides, what the paper didn’t show is the dozens of other times Lt. Silver laid me out at the next session.” Finally seeing fit to acknowledge her presence, Cure glances her way before looking back to the private. He taps the guard on his chest piece and says, “Ah, I see how it is. I beat one of ya then y’all sic the reigning champ on me, huh?”

The colt shakes his legs and wings to loosen the muscles then reaches up and puts his right hoof on his chin. In a gut churning display he pulls his head to the right, popping and snapping seemingly every vertebrae up his neck to the distraught look of the guards, then repeats the performance going the other direction. “Alright princess, hope yer ready ta rumble. The bookies ain’t givin me the best odds, but everypony always underestimates the little fella.” He pauses his shadow boxing to flex and adds, “... until it’s too late!”

“Hmm,” she loudly hums while tilting her head back in thought. “And what, exactly, would you do if I were to accept such a challenge, young colt?”

“Probably eat more dirt than a growing colt oughta,” he happily admits. He drops back down to all fours and smiles up to the princess before dropping into a bow, wings spread wide. “It is a pleasure to be in your presence again, your majesty.”

“Oh come now, no need for that. It’s wonderful to see you, as well as all of the rest of my little ponies,” Celestia says, smiling radiantly down at the colt and his escort. She turns to Lt. Fury and greets him as well. “Lieutenant Fury, thank you for ensuring Serpentus’ safety on his journey. I hope he did not push you too hard.”

The pegasus bobs his head again before speaking up, “Not at all, ma’am! It was the most amazing flight I’ve ever been on!” He glances to the side to look at his troops out of the corner of his eye. They’re all eagerly nodding as well. He continues, “Being able to shoot through the sky at full speed, the wind in our faces, trees shooting by underneath us. It was… it was… just awesome! I’ve never felt so… so… powerful and free!” He coughs to clear his throat before quickly adding, “Your majesty.”

She gives him another beaming smile, nodding in acknowledgement. “I am relieved to hear. The kitchen staff are preparing a special meal for you. Please,” she motions towards the barracks, “feel free to freshen up and we will ensure it is delivered once ready.”

“Thank you, ma’am!”

“Certainly. Sergeant Bramble?”

“Yes ma’am?”

“Could you please show them their prepared quarters?”

“Yes ma’am. Right away, ma’am,” he says. He jerks his head towards the barracks and calls to the pegasi to follow. Lt. Fury nudges Cure and gives him a hoof bump as the two part ways.

Celestia pans her gaze over the still bowing patrol groups who are looking increasingly uncomfortable. “You may all resume your duties.” A round “yes ma’am!”s and very hasty departures leave only Cure, the princess, and her security detail behind. “Come along, Serpentus. Our lunch should be ready shortly.”

As the princess turns to head back to the castle the colt scampers to her side excitedly relaying the highlights of their trip in a barrage of words and animated hops, wing motions, and mock demonstrations. “... and then he was all, ‘Form up, we can’t be entering Canterlot airspace upside down!’ so we hadta stop playing around and fly in formation again. Oh well, we were on the ground just a few minutes later. You do anything fun today, boss?”

“I can’t say that anything particularly fun has happened, unfortunately. I spent much of the morning taking care of paperwork for the upcoming week.” At his curious look she explains, “I often visit the hospital for at least a few hours every day during the season, so I’ve been working ahead, where possible, to free up my schedule. With your parents not arriving for nearly two weeks I had planned to spend a little more time there to keep an eye on you.”

“Has there been a threat?”

“Goodness no! It’s just a good opportunity to spend time with my little ponies. Not only that, but I promised your sire last time that I would ensure you are not overworked. Finally, I am aware that my presence brings my little ponies comfort, so I have several reasons to accompany you.”

“Ah. Yeah, I was kinda wondering about that effect. You do have an aura about you.”

Celestia sighs while nodding in acknowledgement. “It’s my connection to my sun. It influences my magic presence, especially during the summer months. It takes significant effort to contain when I am not trying to draw attention.”

“Huh. Is that something I’ll have to deal with eventually?”

She shrugs her wings and nods. “I would expect so. Your likely domain is quite different, so I cannot anticipate how it may manifest itself.”

“Hmm. This could be bad, boss,” he says in a worried tone.

“How so? Such abilities are not harmful, in my experience. Only somewhat distracting until one becomes accustomed to it.”

“Well, the problem is that I’m already completely irresistible.”

“... Indeed,” she unconvincingly agrees.

“Right? And that’s with just my charming demeanor.”

She nods along. “That must be it.”

“No doubt,” he rapidly nods in agreement. “And it’s only gonna get worse when I’m officially royalty, ya know?”

“A valid concern.”

“Add in how naturally handsome I’ll be.”

Celestia coughs lightly to the side. Cure continues despite the slight mockery.

“Then, on top of all that, toss in some metaphysical manipulation and you got yourself quite the potential for a disaster.”

“We will have to plan accordingly,” she agrees.

“Yep. I only see one option. A shame, given I really didn’t want to do it.”

Celestia continues walking without responding. After several steps he lifts off, hovering to her right with his whole body turned sideways, forelegs crossed in annoyance while staring at her.

“Yer supposed ta ask what it is,” he flatly explains, scowling at the ancient mare. He reaches over and pokes her a few times on her right shoulder. “The whole bit kinda falls apart of ya don’t play along, boss.”

“Oh! Apologies, Serpentus!” She clears her throat and turns his way with a curious expression. “One option? What ever could it be? The anticipation is killing me!”

He narrows his eyes for a moment before giving an approving nod. “Four out of ten.” She pouts. “Anyhow, the only option is to clone myself. That way there can be a ‘Cure’ for every poor mare out there that is ensnared in my web. ‘Can’t get through the day without thinking of my hunky bod? Not a problem, ma’am. I’ve got the Cure for that right here!’”

He doesn’t deign to respond to her incredulous look, carrying on despite it. “I hafta admit the whole ‘evil twin’ trope is kind of a concern, but they shouldn’t be any more evil than I am unless there’s some kinda magical funkiness going on. Whatta ya think, boss? Enough Serpentuses runnin around oughta solve the problem, right?”

“Hmm. Wouldn’t more of you just further exacerbate the issue? After all, if the problem is caused by your presence…” she trails off.

“Ah fudge! I hadn’t considered that.”

“The solution, then, must be to sequester yourself away from everypony.” She lets out a defeated sigh and continues, “I’ll begin making arrangements soon. I hear Yakyakistan is beautiful at dawn and sunset. There are many unsettled regions within their borders.”

“But how will I heal everypony then?”

“A conundrum… I suppose you may be allowed near pony civilization to lend a hoof a couple times per year.”

“I suppose that’ll work,” he sighs. “At least I can visit in April and September.”

Cure hears the guards trailing them snort laughs when Celestia’s head whips to her right to scowl. The colt coughs awkwardly and amends, “I mean… to visit everypony else and stuff. Ya know… the folks and whatnot. Not that I wouldn’t drop in to say howdy or nothin.” He lands and continues walking forward, intentionally diverting his gaze away from the still staring princess. “So… what’s for lunch?”

“Hoof, apparently,” he hears mumbled from one of the guards.

He looks back and gives the smirking unicorn a weak glare. “Hopefully it’s seasoned better than the last one,” he grumbles. Despite the very uncomfortable slip, he can’t help but notice the princess’s shoulders shaking slightly in quiet laughter.

“... so the girls are workin on sellin those right now.”

“Hmm. I suppose as long as you are not running ponies out of business.”

“Nah. I’m definitely not interested in that. I’m just helpin ‘em each earn a few bits. We’ve talked about that kinda stuff a whole bunch of times with my cosmetic business. They all know I wouldn’t be okay with that, and since I control the supply,” he finishes with a shrug. The pair had finished lunch and, towards the end, Celestia had casually mentioned Cure’s room is ready for him, so the two are headed there for the big reveal.

It wasn’t difficult for him to tell the princess was nearly giddy with eager anticipation. Cure was pretty excited too and he didn’t bother trying to hide it. He wasn’t sure what to expect; the guest rooms they’d stayed in before were perfectly adequate; far nicer than what he’s always had. It’s just not appropriate, apparently, for him to not have a room of his own. Blueblood, despite being simply a “prince” rather than a “grand prince,” has his own room that he rarely uses.

“It is kind of you to give your friends that opportunity, Cure. I know you don’t mind spending money on them, but I’m sure you’re aware of the difference between somepony else giving you something versus feeling as if you earned it. Even partially.”

“Yup. That was kind of a thing I had to deal with before I started working. My parents had so little… I mean, I know they’re my parents, but I hated the thought of them not having something they wanted. You saw our old house. It was fine, I guess, but…”

“Understandable. You wanted some independence and, of course, to be able to give back. You’re a filial son, Cure. It’s admirable. Just be sure to let them spoil you some too.”

“I do. It’s just… ya know. You’ve seen my taxes, I’m assuming?” She nods. “It’s a little difficult to spoil a colt that makes five times what you do.”

“It is,” she agrees. “Speaking of taxes, the National RHA has agreed to sign onto the agreement forwarded by Baltimare’s. I do not foresee you actually paying taxes beyond, perhaps, the bill that comes at the end of this month. Even that will be reduced somewhat until they can distribute the Origin Cell trees nationwide.”

“Awesome! Not that I’m not happy to hear, but the tax thing wasn’t rushed due to, ya know,” he waves a wing.

“No, if anything it was expedited because of the ‘Colt Tree’ you made during your visit. I believe I mentioned the NHA Director? Waning Storm?”

“I think you made a comment about her being my number one fan.”

“Indeed. I admit, the rate at which your popularity is growing is impressive.” She hangs her head and, with an exaggerated pout, adds, “Soon everypony will forget about little old me. It always happens when something or somepony newer comes along, I suppose,” she laments.

“Maybe you just need to go on a PR binge, boss. See if we can get you some cool shades, maybe head out to the coast and do some surfing or something or get ya a cool catch phrase.”

“Surfing?” she mumbles, confused at the random suggestion.

“Yeah, you know, riding some sick waves. Hanging ten, whatever the hay that means. Dunno, I never did it myself.”

“I have no idea what you are talking about.”

“What? Surfing?” She nods. “You know, get a surfboard… basically like a kayak, but squashed flat… wait, why do I always forget about Illusions?” Still trotting by her side, Cure projects an Illusion of a surfboard, then projects an Illusion showing a cartoonish scene with a pegasus riding one on a wave.

“Cure?”

“Hmm?”

“I am unaware of anypony, anywhere doing such an activity for leisure.” The two share a look for a second before she adds, “Ever.”

“Oh.”

“Is this perhaps related to the conversation we had when you last visited?”

“Tangentially, I suppose.”

“I see.”

“Well, look at it this way, boss. You could invent a whole new sport. I bet they have the waves for it on the west coast somewhere. Maybe San Franciscolt?”

“There are some stretches of land that experience significant waves to the south of the city. I think I’ll hold off for now, though. As I was saying, Director Storm has reviewed the results from tests conducted on your trees and the compound they produce. They have been approved for widespread use, but she requested that you change the seeding method before distribution.

“You will need to adjust the ones in Baltimare upon your return there. An order has already been sent to the hospital to secure their trees until you can make the changes.”

“That’s… probably a good idea. Somecreature could steal a single seed and, with very little work, grow as many of them as they want. Any word on what she’s suggesting instead?”

“Yes. She requested that existing plants have that function removed completely and, instead, a single plant be made exclusively to produce seeds. That can be kept in a protected location and additional seeds can be produced as needed.” The pair stop their walk as they reach the door to his new room.

“Ah. That’s definitely more secure. I can make a seed plant pretty easily before I head home. Are the existing plants at the hospital?”

“They are not. They have been undergoing testing at the Canterlot University Medical Center’s laboratory facilities, but that is not far away. I’m sure the opportunity to stop in will present itself at some point.”

Conversation pauses as the two stare at the door. Celestia can’t keep the grin off her face as she glances between it and him. “Are you ready?” she excitedly asks.

Nodding in eager anticipation, he waves a hoof at the door. “You bet! Let’s see it, boss!”

Author's Note

A little late today because I wanted to make some last minute changes. More than normal, that is. I had written up to the coronation, but I've made a lot of changes to the next two chapters that require even more in the few afterwards. 74 and 75 will take place on the same day in-story (They will not be posted on the same day! Those are the next two weeks' chapters!) and I'm debating skipping ahead a bit afterwards just so we don't spend three months on a week and a half in the capital. I dunno, I'll figure it out, I suppose.

Just a reminder - I mentioned a couple weeks ago I have upcoming travel plans for a few weeks from about August 25th through September 13th, give or take, so nobody panic when I'm on a short hiatus there. I think that will be the last big break I take for the year, but who knows? RL doesn't cooperate nearly as much as we would all like.

All that aside, thanks for reading and I hope you all enjoy.

Chapter 74: Delivery in Five Minutes or it's Free

Sunday, June 7th, 909 AB (the next morning)

“Good morning, your majesty,” a familiar, and more importantly given her guest, expected voice gently calls. “It’s nearly time to raise the sun. Also, you absolutely have to come to Lord Serpentus’ suite before you do!”

Celestia takes a deep breath, blowing it slowly out her snout in a half-sigh-yawn before her servant’s words register. Wary of what madness Cure could have unleashed, she quickly, if reluctantly, climbs out of bed. An alicorn-sized steaming cup of black tea floats just below her nose; the bold, earthy fragrance and promise of a quick pick-me-up coax her to sufficient wakefulness to take it in her magic.

“Mmm… bless your beautiful heart, Primrose,” she breathily sighs. “Loath as I am to ask, I know I must.” Steeling herself for the answer, she worriedly inquires, “What’s he done?”

The yellow unicorn giggles at her mistress, holding a hoof up to forestall Celestia’s worry. “Oh, no! He’s not done anything at all, your majesty! Aside from getting a good night’s sleep, that is. Sandy went to wake him and simply couldn’t force herself to because… well, I’ll not spoil it, but you really must see for yourself!”

Celestia lets out a relieved breath and gives the mare a nod, motioning for her to lead the way as she takes a large, undignified gulp. Primrose nearly dances on her hooves to the door, giggling to herself all the way out into the hallway. Celestia is surprised to find only one guard stationed outside. At her questioning look the stallion gives a salute, then rolls his eyes and jerks his head to his right towards Cure’s door just as Primrose disappears inside.

Curiosity well piqued, Celestia follows the yellow mare into the room, past his living room area, and towards the small herd of mares gathering at his open bedroom door. She notes the presence of not only her missing guard, but the two mares assigned to Cure’s room as well.

As she approaches, she detects a spell in effect around the group; a Sound Bubble, she realizes, after a quick analysis. Its purpose becomes evident as she passes through; cooing, fawning, and gushing exhalations fill the small space, the Bubble preventing Cure from hearing their commotion.

Drawing breath to scold them, she pauses as she catches sight of the colt in his bed. He is laying with his wings draped around the barrel of a large plush toy modeled after his dam. Snuggling Vines is on her back, forelegs looped over the colt possessively; her right over his left shoulder and trailing down his right wing, the left below his right wing and drooped over his rear.

A completely involuntary “Awwww!” escapes her lips before she has any hope of stopping it. Primrose nods rapidly in agreement with the sentiment. “That’s why Sandy put up the Bubble! It’s just too cute!” she all but squeals while dancing in place. “He’s just so adorable, your majesty! What should we do? I know he needs his shower before breakfast, but…” she trails off, waving a hoof at the heartwarming display.

Celestia sighs as she inhales another gulp from her tea, taking a moment to ponder the situation. Fortunately, an idea comes to her almost immediately. “Primrose, dear… do you happen to know where SD’s office is?” The beaming smile is all the answer she needs.

Grumbling halfheartedly, Cure takes another big bite of his breakfast and shoots a weak glare to the smug princess. He’s not really angry with her; if he’s being honest with himself he can’t wait for his dam to get a copy. He knows from experience that a parent will always be thrilled to see undeniable proof their child adores them, even if they’ll happily wield said proof to embarrass them years later.

“Oh shush, I can tell you don’t actually mind,” Celestia chides, rolling her eyes at his foalishness. “You were awake after the first flash anyhow, you big pretender.”

“It’s the principle of the thing! How would you like it if I snuck inta yer room and took pictures of you sleepin?”

“Need I remind you that you did sneak into my room?”

“At least I brought you breakfast,” he points out. She raises a single brow and looks meaningfully at the mostly eaten stack of pancakes in front of him. “It’s not the same,” he pouts as he takes another bite.

“Now I know you’re just trying to be difficult.”

“Yeah, mostly. Besides,” he starts as he reaches into his mane and withdraws a rolled up paper, then slides it over to the princess, “only chumps need a camera.”

Somewhat warily, Celestia takes the paper in her magic and unrolls it. The image is of her, unadorned, sleeping in bed, likely from when he brought her breakfast. The perspective of the image is from a couple meters directly above the bed.

It’s not at all what she expected, truth be told. Cure obviously took some artistic license, as her mane and coat are nowhere near that pristine, nor are her feathers that orderly when first waking.

She is laid on her back, turned slightly to her right; her left wing draped somewhat tantalizingly across her belly and right wing spread wide, flat on the bed. Her forelegs are folded tightly to her chest and hind legs are drawn up, also twisted to her right to maintain her modesty from the perspective of the viewer.

Her head is turned right, laid on a golden pillow which gives room for her horn to point to the top right corner of the picture. A serene smile adorns her face. In the top left is a copy of her cutie mark with the words “Light Before Dawn,” a word on each line, in elegant cursive.

Cure watches as the princess drinks the picture in. He had come so, so close to recreating Luna’s slightly different picture instead, but thought the more flattering image he’d created would be more impactful. From the quiet gasp, the way she holds a single hoof to her cheek, and the mouthed “oh my goodness,” he’s pretty sure he made the right choice.

Celestia slowly turns back to the still eating colt, not releasing the picture from her magic. “Cure… this is absolutely lovely.”

“Yeah, I figured you’d like that better than this one,” he says, hoofing over another page.

This one is nearly an exact duplicate, though from a slightly further away point of view. Instead of a serene smile, Celestia’s tongue is colored blue and hanging out the side of her mouth, partially laying on her pillow. A plate, smeared with the remnants of some lapped-up blue icing, sits discarded by her head. Her left wing, instead of covering her belly, is barely able to wrap around the massive bulge and, instead of her cutie mark, a gaping shark’s maw is open with a small cake about to be swallowed on her visible left flank.

Celestia slowly looks up from the second picture to find Cure shaking in his seat, barely holding back laughing at her expression. She calmly sets both aside and takes a single, dainty bite of her oatmeal before remarking, “I think I preferred the first one.”

“Me too,” he earnestly agrees. “So, when are we going to the hospital? My appointments for today are at the Canterlot one, right?”

“They are,” she confirms. “If you are prepared, we can head out as soon as we’re done eating. I assured them we would be there by seven thirty, so we have about fifteen minutes before we must leave. For most of the day I’ll be in the reception area with the arriving dams while you’re making rounds in the rooms. If I have to leave for any reason I’ll have Lt. Spear notify your guards.”

“My… guards? I’m going to have a set of guards following me?”

“Of course you are, Cure. Though you are not yet a prince, your position warrants their presence. Do not worry; they will not get in the way at all. You’ll likely not even notice them at all unless there’s a specific reason to. They’ll stay in the hall when you’re assisting somepony.”

“Okay. They do have similar instructions, right? If something happens, clear out the bystanders, stay out of the way, all that stuff?”

“They do. They have been made aware that, despite your youth, you are capable of taking care of yourself. Again, that will not be necessary. I will take great umbrage with anycreature that causes a disturbance worthy of our attention today.”

“Okay. Good enough for me, boss. Hey, I got a question for ya.”

“Hmm?”

“Is it safe to use Sending here? I’ve avoided trying to Send messages to you in case there was some kind of active protection enchantment in the castle or something.”

“There isn’t anything to be concerned about. When you last visited I had you added to the ward’s list of approved signatures. If anypony not on record were to Send me a message it would be blocked by the castle’s protections.”

“Neat. Do you get… like, bombarded when you leave the grounds?”

“I think you may be underestimating the complexity of that spell. I’m frankly amazed Dawn Glow does not have a cutie mark in spellcasting, or even specifically transmutation spells. There are perhaps fifty unicorns in the city that have that spell committed to memory. The breadth of her abilities is incredibly impressive.”

“Ah. I forget sometimes how easy I have it,” he admits. “Just so you are aware, I would very much like to get her enrolled at your school next year too.”

“So long as her academics are adequate I’m certain…” Celestia trails off when she notices the servant stopped to her right. A light green pegasus mare had approached her side to refresh her tea and, inadvertently, caught sight of the cake picture. Cure full-on snorts, ducking under the table laughing his tail off. The mare freezes and, ever so slowly, turns her head up to meet the princess’s gaze. “Good morning, Cool Mint,” she flatly greets.

The mare looks at the princess with what can only be described as awe. “I am so jealous, your majesty! I had no idea alicorns could just eat whatever and keep looking so amazing!” She turns and starts heading to the door as she calls back over here withers, “I know you’re leaving soon. We have some of the chocolate cake left over from dinner last night! I’ll be right back!”

“Wait, Mint!” Celestia calls just as she reaches the door. The pegasus pauses and looks back in question. Celestia ponders only for a moment. “Perhaps just a small slice to start the day?” With an eager nod the mare vanishes through the door.

Celestia turns back to the smug look on the colt. “Ya know, boss, I seem to recall a conversation about accidentally causing things to happen. This,” he waves to the unflattering picture, “isn’t supposed to be a picture of things to come, but ya know…” he trails off, looking down her sides.

“Quiet, you,” she huffs, defiantly turning away from the brat. “I said a small slice anyhow.”

“If I wasn’t meant ta fly then Harmony wouldn’t’a given me wings, princess.”

“Oh quit your bellyaching. It didn’t take that long.”

Cure keeps trotting on three legs as he reaches back into his mane and whips out his pocket watch, then activates the illusionary time projection for everypony to see. He gives an unimpressed look at the princess as the three stroll down the corridor, their six guards trailing behind a few body lengths.

“She got to fly here,” he pouts, pointing a wing at the purple pegasus in armor. Lt. Spear wisely doesn’t comment, though she does have to turn away from the colt to hide her smirk.

The pair had, despite his foalish whining, taken a carriage from the palace to the main campus of Canterlot Hospital. He knew full well there was no way they would just fly there. Only two of the six guards are even pegasi, and Celestia just gave him a flat look when he pointed out the others could use the Butterfly Wings spell. Mostly he just wanted to complain for the fun of it. He figures not many ponies give the princess a hard time, so the only logical thing to do is to make up for all of them.

The births aren’t just happening at one location. With Cloudsdale’s arrival the two cities are able to pool their resources. A section of cloud with a large hospital, one of the four the city has, had been floated down from the main city and was moored northwest of the palace.

Cure and Celestia had watched the process from one of the towers last night prior to going to bed. Dozens of pegasi moved the cloud carrying the building at a snail’s pace down from the slightly higher city, lining it up with a docking area, then extending a street or, really, a bridge so that ground-based ponies can enter without having to worry about falling through the clouds.

The bats and pegasi maneuvering the cloud bringing the building down were like a combination of tug boats and bees, buzzing around the larger vessel while slowly nudging, rotating, and guiding it into the designated spot. The precision was impressive, and the way they eased the facility perfectly into position made the complex operation seem completely routine.

The arrival of the alicorns at the front of the hospital is a blatant PR move. No attempt was made to disguise or downplay the event and, along with several families making their way in, dozens of reporters were calling out questions and taking pictures. Celestia gave them all a very basic statement explaining that the soon-to-be-crowned Prince Serpentus will be assisting expecting dams while Celestia, as she typically does, will provide aid and comfort as best she can while they wait until everypony is ready.

Fortunately their carriage stopped far enough away to not interfere with families on their way to welcome a new member. The pair had come early enough that only a few dams were going into labor, relatively speaking. Nearly everypony arriving right now is here according to schedule rather than urgent need, and the big glut won’t hit for another day or two.

Canterlot’s population totals approximately seventy-five thousand, a little over a fifth more than Baltimare proper, but slightly lower than the entire metropolitan area. The city’s unique geography makes it impossible to have suburbs as near as many larger cities. One would typically expect the nation’s capital to be a larger city, but several factors (mainly being half way up a mountain) prevent that.

Housing is expensive due to very limited land, obviously, but construction expenses are prohibitively high for most ponies due to the requirements imposed by the city’s government. Aesthetic requirements are rigidly enforced, much like a city-wide HOA, but with explicit government backing. Quartzite is a common construction material in commercial areas, and that can only be found in the Unicorn Range of mountains northwest of Chicoltgo or, more commonly, far to the south in the Appaloosan mountains.

The wooded area at the foot of the Foal Mountains to the southeast provides abundant lumber, but for the better woods like maple or oak one has to look further, either to the northwest near Vanhoover for the former or west for the latter. Unlike passenger trains, the transportation of building materials isn’t subsidized, so a train car full of building materials costs a fair amount more to move than it would to buy every ticket that could fit on a similarly sized passenger car.

While Canterlot doesn’t have official suburbs, Forest Heights is located to the southeast of the mountain and Brightwood is slightly north of that. Neither is exactly convenient even if they’re close enough for commuting. Each is about thirty minutes away by commuter train. They’re still good options for ponies that work in the city yet can’t afford to or don’t want to live on the plateau.

Ponyville, while nearby, is located to the city’s southwest on the opposite side of the mountain from the other suburbs. The developing township is actually physically closer to Canterlot than the other two, but as Detrot, Foaledo, and other larger metros are to the east, so are the rails that trek up the mountainside.

Anypony going to Canterlot from the future hotspot has to loop around a circuitous route a short distance from the southern base of the Canterhorn before making their way up. The commute is a ten minute flight for a pegasus, even circling around the castle’s “no fly” zone, and takes nearly an hour and a half for ground bound ponies.

As they were ushered into the building, Celestia sidled up next to an expecting unicorn couple. The golden button stuck on the stallion’s saddlebag indicates his wife is one of the ones that has an appointment with Cure, so the princess was absolutely confident assuring the first time dam that she couldn’t ask for an easier foalbirth experience. The couple were escorted off to a check-in area while Celestia, Cure, and co. are shown to an employee area towards the back of the hospital wing.

As the group is escorted into the building Cure gets a good look at the layout of the hospital’s maternity ward. It reminds him of some of the nicer emergency rooms from Ed’s memories. The entire building is a two story rectangle. The birthing rooms line the outside of the hallway with the occasional maintenance or miscellaneous room interspersed.

The hallway itself is large; tall enough that pegasi have room to race overhead and wide enough that eight earth ponies could run down it side-by-side without touching. The far wall is lined with rooms for specialists where dams with an emergency can be taken for a caedares procedure (old Ponish for a cesarean) or other unexpected needs such as bipedal visitors.

Miscellaneous areas like staff break rooms, nursing stations, supply areas, and restrooms make up the interior, though there are several narrower, but still fairly wide connecting hallways between the two. Two large stairwells are on the northeast and southwest corners of the building leading up to the other floor that follows the same design.

In the dead center of the building is a larger crossing hallway with an open space between the floors for pegasi messengers or EMTs. The area has a pair of two meter wide cylinders (one for each direction) that act as express lanes for fliers. They are short, only protruding up and down a half meter on either side of the floor or ceiling.

In order to assist anypony with too wide of a wingspan, hoof-sized kick plates are affixed to the interior of the up column. It wouldn’t be necessary for bats or pegasi with their shorter, songbird-shaped wings, but griffons or hippogriffs can use the plates to bounce up if they find themselves stalling out or are concerned about clipping the walls with their wings.

Though she would have to tuck her legs and be mindful of her horn, the princess could even fit through with little effort. Alternatively a very short duration Reduce or a two-meter Blink would likely make her trip easier all around.

The entrances are green and exits are red and, along with signage and arrows, make it difficult for anypony to accidently go in the wrong way. There’s also a safety barrier on the top floor to keep anypony from accidentally taking an unexpected plunge.

To the north and south east of the columns are a pair of large elevators for wingless staff and patients. Cure hasn’t seen many buildings with those installed. He knows they’re not electric, but hasn’t had the opportunity to inspect one to see how they work. Like some of the ones Ed had seen in old TV shows, the elevators have operators that run the controls. He suspects some kind of enchantment is affecting a counterweight, altering the effective mass to raise or lower the lift.

“The lieutenant was providing escort. You know that,” Celestia points out with a sigh.

Scoffing, Cure reaches over and pokes the ancient mare with his wingtip. “A convenient excuse! It took twenty minutes! I know when yer like a billion years old,” he hears a muffled snert from a guard as her brow furrows, “it’s not a big deal, but ya gotta remember, boss… ain’t all of us older than the mountain we’re standin on.”

Normally Cure wouldn’t harass her in public, but with only her and her trusted guards within earshot he knows she won’t be upset. They are amongst the few that get to see the mare below the crown, so to speak, so they’re aware of the princess’s sense of humor.

“Do you know what I did to the last pony that made a joke about my age?”

“Needing reminders is a sign of dementia,” he flatly observes.

“I put them in charge of a city,” she threatens.

Cure recoils so hard he almost falls into the lieutenant, quickly surrendering to the mare. “You win, boss.” He wipes a nonexistent bead of sweat off his brow, griping, “Jeez… lil teasin and she’s bustin out the siege weapons over here.”

A call of “Your highness!” is eagerly shouted by an older light gray pegasus emerging from a room further down the hall. Like the ponies from the Baltimare RHA board he’s met over the months, she’s wearing clothes; a rather nice looking business suit that, through the lense of Edward’s memories, seems more masculine than feminine.

That’s another area where he’s had to adjust his perspective, though. Clothing, aside from purely functional safety or protective garments, is so uncommon in Golden Hills that it draws attention when worn. Dawn loves her pajamas, but that’s more of a tactile pleasure than anything. Medical professionals occasionally wear coats, but that’s for the pockets as much as it is for “the look.”

Dresses, or dress-like apparel, is not for females only. Certainly the designs of such make the target demographic easy to discern, but mechanically there is little difference for a pony between a cold weather cloak and a legitimate dress.

Ed never thought to look up why kilts and togas went out of fashion for guys. He’d happily go through a Saturday never bothering to put on anything but boxers and a robe if he could manage it. Whatever caused the shift on Earth didn’t make its away to Equus, evidently.

With less rigid societal rules regarding clothing gender assignments, professional mares dress more or less the same as stallions. Cure can’t deny that the charcoal suit jacket and white undershirt convey a more professional look than simply going au naturel, and, frankly, an attractive woman in a crisp, clean, professional suit was, for some reason, something that Ed always found attractive too.

“Err… Highnesses?” the mare ponders, looking up and idly scratching at her chin with a hoof. “Yes, I suppose that works. Wow, that’s going to take some getting used to!” she exuberantly declares.

“Good morning, Director Storm,” Celestia greets as the pair approach. Cure approaches the excited mare. “I would like you to meet Serpentus. Serpentus, Director Waning Storm.”

“You beautiful colt you!” she exclaims, stepping forward to wrap Cure in a tight foreleg and wing hug. “This is an unparalleled age of healthcare innovation thanks to you, young stallion! If you didn’t already have a set of wings I’d offer to give you mine! The tens of thousands that will be saved over the coming years just from the Antiviral, Immunization, and Origin Cell trees… I can’t… I can’t even imagine!

“And just when somepony got me everything I could ever want for Hearth’s Warming what does her highness tell me?” she asks, squeezing him tighter. In a poor impression of the mare she continues, “‘These trees may increase the odds of a colt. Here’s the paperwork. Let me know how it goes!’” and finishes with a scoff. She sets the colt down and, with a hoof on each shoulder, stares into his eyes and asks, “How big?”

Cure’s dirty mind immediately goes in the wrong direction as he glances between the mare, Lt. Spear, and the princess with a quizzical look, wisely keeping the immediate and inappropriate answer that comes to mind to himself. “Huh?”

“The statue I’m putting in our lobby! How big do you want it? Should we wait a few years until you’re an adult or just go ahead and do one of you as a foal?” Her ears and wings shoot straight up as she exclaims, “OOH! We’ll do one each year! I don’t care if it’s not in the budget! We’ll have a whole room of Serpentus statues!”

Celestia quietly laughs at the horrified look on the struck speechless colt’s face. “I believe one will be more than enough, Director. At least, for now it will. I’m sure that before too long statues of young Serpentus will grace many medical institutions.”

“Ugh…”

“Come now, have you any idea how many statues have been made in my likeness over the centuries?”

“Hundreds, I’m sure,” he reluctantly concedes.

“Many, many hundreds,” she agrees with a nod.

“Yep,” Director Storm agrees, consolingly patting him on the withers, “you’ll get used to it, sooner or later, I’m sure. Come along,” she says, turning and waving to a staff meeting room door, “let me walk you through the process we’ve set up for you and introduce you to your teams.”

Cure and Celestia follow the director into the large meeting room as several ponies are still making their way in from the other entrance. The room is arranged like many assembly rooms from his memories; small tables on either side with a walkway in the middle and a larger table at the front. A blackboard sits behind and to the left of the presenters’ table with what appears to be a staff schedule written out.

Cure is somewhat surprised at the diversity of the staff, meager as it may be. A dozen creatures; four teams of three each occupy a table. The first three are the expected combination of ponies; two unicorns per team with two pegasi and an earth pony filling the third slots. The fourth, however, consists of a bat mare, a hippogriff stallion, and a griffon chick.

That the lead to a “walked into a bar” joke is sitting there isn’t even remotely the most surprising part, though. What causes Cure’s brain to nearly bluescreen is the horn on the hippogriff’s forehead. The only possible explanation that comes to mind is that the stallion is the product of a male griffon and a female unicorn, but he remembers Cpt. Shield specifically said she’d never even heard of a hippogriff with a horn.

The colt forces himself not to stare, but he’s pretty sure the extra second of focus on the stallion was noticed. He figures he’ll get a pass, though, as both the princess and the lieutenant did a double take when they noticed him as well.

With the slightly muted twinge of embarrassment creeping down his spine, Cure follows Director Storm to the front and seats himself on a booster to her left between her and the princess. A light green earth pony mare is already seated to the director’s right.

“Alright everypony,” she calls to quiet the few murmurs, “I’d like to introduce you all to our soon-to-be prince, Serpentus.” Cure smiles and gives a wave with his hoof. “We already have our first few patients arriving, so we’ll make this quick. We’ll do a quick round of introductions then, Serpentus, could I ask that you please give everycreature a brief explanation of what to expect while working with you?”

Very quickly, each one stands, gives their name, position, and rattles off how many seasons they’ve worked. All but a few have a dozen or more seasons of experience.

“... and the young lady beside me is Nursing Assistant Serene Glade. She’ll be acting as your coordinator today, keeping track of what’s going on with your patients and pointing out where you’re needed next.”

“Sounds good,” he comments and shoots her an appreciative smile. With team introductions done, Cure stands on his hind legs with his forehooves on the table to be more easily visible. He circulates his magic into his lungs, throat, and vocal folds and speaks in a soft, conversational tone, “Good morning everyone.” The soft, but suffusing effect gets more than a few raised brows.

“I have assisted with the birth of over a hundred and fifty foals, and only pony foals due to the demographics in the area I worked. That’s not an insignificant number, but I’m sure it pales to those of you with years and years of experience.

“The plan is for you to tell me what needs done for a patient and I’ll either make it happen or tell you if I can’t. I don’t see the latter happening often. I can fix any in utero health conditions, induce labor, encourage cervical dilation, disable pain receptors, stimulate the dam’s birthing muscles, and more.

“Bottom line? Point me at a mare that’s at term and you can have a delivered, healthy foal and patched up dam in five to ten minutes, quicker if she’s already started herself. Last time I was told to only heal the dam enough to stabilize her so I didn’t run out of magic. That’ll be a concern until I’m a little older, but if something needs done then speak up. I’ll let you know if I’m dipping under fifty percent.” Speech done, Cure turns to the director and gives her a smile and a shallow nod.

“Excellent!” the mare exclaims with a flutter of her wings and a clap. “Today will be a good day for you all to familiarize yourselves with each other while assisting our most at-risk patients. Patient info and status will be filtered to Nurse Glade. She’ll monitor everycreature’s progress and show Serpentus where he’s needed most. Ideally, he’ll step in and get the foals in motion, then, unless further assistance is required, he will move to another room to conserve his magic.

“Dr. Thunder,” she nods to the bat pony, “and her team will be primarily assisting with pegasi, bats, and other creatures while the rest of you will be mostly helping our unicorn populace today. We have mostly pegasi scheduled tomorrow and Tuesday, at which point we will have taken care of most of our higher risk patients. We’ll be monitoring progress and adjusting the schedule for Wednesday and ongoing, so we’ll reevaluate where we stand tomorrow at lunch, okay?”

With a round of agreements sounding out the director claps her hooves and calls for everycreature to suit up.

Unlike last time, Cure doesn’t have a gown assigned to him. He does still have a vest over his withers with his name and cutie mark, but with the assurance that he’s entirely sterile they didn’t bother ordering him the usual attire. He stands out as the only pony working in the birthing areas that’s naked, but standing out has gotten a little more routine given his appearance, so it doesn’t bother him much.

The four teams are moved to rooms near the front lobby while Lt. Spear and Celestia head towards the front to join the expecting families. In addition to comforting the soon-to-be parents, the princess will also be assisting with foalcare for the families that already have some. The ancient mare’s excitement at the prospect of spending time with the little colts and fillies is downright adorable; her bright smile and fluttery wings really do light up a room.

The first set of patients are brought back while Nurse Glade reviews their notes with the midwives and arranges a treatment order. With most of the roster not even being in labor yet there isn’t a sense of urgency like last time. The first patient is selected and the colt is sent in with a quick rundown.

“Good mornin, folks,” he greets as he trots into the room. The husband is sitting to the side out of the way as the pegasus assistant gets the patient ready. The CNM is beside the mare using a diagnostic spell, but the nurse is standing by, having little to do at the moment.

“Twins, right?” he asks as he taps the cleaning crystal. He’s not going to physically touch anything, but knows it’s just standard procedure.

The clearly anxious husband immediately nods. “Yep! Our first time trying and we hit the double jackpot!”

“Excited?” Cure asks.

“You betcha!” he excitedly replies. The stallion leans forward more nervously and waves Cure closer with a hoof. “Hey, uhm… can I ask you something?”

The odd behavior draws looks from everypony, but the colt mentally shrugs and approaches him anyhow. “What’s up, dude?” he quietly asks.

“Not to question you or anything, but… you seem awfully young. Do you really know what you’re doing?”

Four heads swivel in the husband’s direction as the wife open-mouthed gawks at her husband. “Searing Glaze!” she shouts, startling the stallion so bad he jumps to his hooves. “I am so sorry, your highness! He hasn’t slept much, what with his nerves and the doctors and -”

“It’s alright, really,” Cure interrupts, waving a hoof placatingly. “I am young, but I know what I'm doing, which is, for the most part, listening to the experienced professionals that have been doing this for years. Just out of curiosity, you did sign up to get an appointment with me, right?”

“We did,” she answers as the husband eagerly nods. “We had a consultation with Dr. Dawn at CUMC and she highly recommended we sign up as soon as we could. We were lucky enough,” she says while glaring at the shrinking stallion, “to be one of the first ones.”

“Ah. I’ve heard good things about her. I actually need to stop by the university for a project of mine while I’m in town. Maybe I’ll get to meet her while I’m there. Well if you’re all set we can get you taken care of right away,” he says. “I just need to know how numb you want to be for the process. You’ll feel something no matter what, but no pain unless you want me to use a light touch.”

With a pleading look, the mare immediately responds, “No pain please!”

“You got it,” he cheerfully calls as his horn ignites in a chocolatey glow. The scan shows a pair of identical fillies sharing a single placenta; a situation that can result in one receiving less nourishment. Cure had already been cleared to treat issues as they came up, so he doesn’t hesitate to steal a little fat from dam and hit the underweight filly with a round of healing. “Ready, Nurse Swaddle?”

The CNM gives him a quick nod and gets in position while the nurse wheels over a cart with two blanketed trays for the newborns and some towels. “All set, colt,” she calls once she’s situated. She freezes and goes wide-eyed at her casual address of the future royal, but Cure doesn’t care in the slightest.

“Alright nurse, starting in three. Rupturing the first sac,” he calls.

The first several appointments go off without a hitch, even if Cure couldn’t pop the foals out as quickly as he had been able to during the last season. With him having to kickstart the process he’d had to ramp up his sugar intake and magic production earlier than he’d hoped. Thanks to having triple the reserves he had before he still maintains a sustainable level, but he’s kicking himself for not borrowing one of his parents’ larger bags to fill with magic-producing biomass.

Finished with his first hour, the colt slips out of the room as soon as the foal comes out, delighted to find Nurse Glade waiting for him with a snack cart and a tall pitcher of ice water. Cure looks at the cart longingly and sighs out, “I love you. Please marry me.”

Glade’s clipboard falls right off her hoof as every passing pony freezes in place and looks at the colt. “Your highness! I’m a married mare!” she screeches, backing away from the foal barely half her size.

A few quiet chuckles sound out down the hall, but the young alicorn doesn’t even turn his head. “You’re a peach, nurse, but I was talking to the snack tray,” he explains, rearing up and wrapping his wings and forelegs around one side of it. “Shh, you’re the only one for me,” he mumbles as he floats a biscuit into his waiting maw and moans in bliss. “Never leave me!” he soulfully cries.

Scattered laughs and wolf whistles sound out down the hall as everypony gets back to work. “Don’t mind them, they’re only jealous,” he softly explains as he runs a hoof down one of the cart’s legs. Even one of the guards assigned to him lets a laugh slip out at that, poorly covering it with a throat clear.

The green mare scowls at him while snatching her clipboard back off the ground. “The next patient is in room four,” she gruffly says. “Another set of twins, whenever you’re done getting weird with the food.”

“Oh trust me, my dear, this isn’t even a two on my weird scale,” he says between bites. He grabs the pitcher, tilts his head back, and pours its contents right down his throat, not even breathing as it disappears.

Glade watches in bewilderment as the colt dumps the entire pitcher into his gullet. “Are you okay?!” she worriedly asks while trying to figure out where all of the water could possibly fit.

Cure gives his wings a few flaps, careful not to lighten himself at the same time. The rush of wind feels great on his coat and, more importantly, helps cool him off a degree or two. “Yup, but more ice would be super next time. I’m good to go. Four, you said?”

She gives a single hesitant nod and points a hoof to the door a few down on her right.

Cure gives her a cheeky grin and a half bow before making his way to the door. He pulls it open with his magic and trots inside, somewhat surprised to find a male and female griffon off to the side and a hippogriff mare being helped onto the table. “Howdy, folks,” he calls in greeting as he kicks the door shut behind him. “Rumor has it somecreature is having a two for one today.”

“Yo!” the hippogriff mare hollers from the table.

“Cool, then I’m in the right place. You all been given a rundown on how this works?” he asks as he pans across the three parents.

Dr. Thunder looks up from the chart and gives a nod. “They’ve started explaining everything in the waiting room. They did talk to you all, right?” the bat mare asks as she looks at the griffons.

With a nod the husband gives a quick summary, repeating back the now-familiar process.

“Awesome. I just need to know how numb you want to be and whether we’re all ready to go.”

“As numb as I can be,” the mare immediately replies. “Last time it was just one and it almost split me in half.”

“Well that won’t happen today,” he assures her. “I can’t promise zero pain, but I’m fifteen for fifteen so far today. Ready, doc?”

“Good to go.”

With a nod, Cure activates his talent and immediately pauses in confusion.

<< Hey doc? >> he silently Messages. The mare leans slightly to her right and raises a single brow. << There’s a griffon chick and a hippogriff colt in her. Do I need to worry about this dude losing his marbles? >>

Dr. Thunder furrows her brow and, rather than directly answer, simply shakes her head no and motions for him to proceed.

“Alright, breaking the first sac. The colt’s an eager one, so he’s coming first,” he announces.

“So… how are you feeling?” Celestia slowly asks.

“Kinda appreciating the carriage this time, boss,” Cure readily confesses, laid out on his back on the opposite bench. “I got a feeling I’m gonna put away more at dinner than you are tonight.”

“Are you implying something, young colt?” she teases.

“Perish the thought, milady. You’re the very image of fitness, grace, and beauty,” he answers in a posh Trottingham accent. An approving nod is his only answer. “How was your day? Did you get to see all the foals… and chicks, cubs, whatever’s?”

“I did!” she nods with a beaming smile. “They were so adorable! I can’t begin to tell you how tempting…” she trails off. Cure feels his gut twist when he catches the sight quiver of her lip as she turns towards the window.

A moment pass in silence before she slowly takes a deep breath and lets it out. “You did absolutely wonderfully today, Cure. I’m sure your parents will be very proud when they hear about it tonight.”

“Oh, didn’t know you were messaging them nightly.”

“They didn’t ask me to, but given your age I feel it’s appropriate to do so.”

“Fair. How much do those candles cost anyhow?” he asks, rolling on his side to face her.

She hums in thought for a moment before answering. “It’s difficult to say, exactly. The contract with the dragon lord covers the entire network. They don’t typically use bits, so we pay in gold and gems.”

“Ah. So pegging a single candle’s cost is kinda hard?”

“Correct. I’m sure Chancellor Sheets could tell me, but off the top of my head I would guess at least ten thousand bits.”

“Per year?”

Celestia shakes her head no. “They will burn for several years if used sparingly. The magic can be extinguished more quickly, but it would take a significant volume of correspondence to do so.”

“Ah. A few grand per year doesn’t seem so bad. I’m surprised businesses don’t use them for important correspondence.”

She shrugs in response, saying, “They would have to be ignited by a different dragon than the ones ours are maintained by. I do not know how many dragons are capable of using their breath as such, but my understanding is that the ability is exceedingly rare. Perhaps a large enough company could employ a dragon to maintain such a network, but it would be costly and be of little benefit to most businesses.”

While Cure doesn’t necessarily agree, he suspects it likely that nopony has considered trying to hire a dragon for that specifically. It’s something he can keep in mind at some point in the future if he ever does run some kind of large, nationwide business, but isn’t terribly useful at the moment.

“So… I learned something new today. A few things.” She gives him her full attention. “I was under the mistaken impression that hippogriffs could only have a pony or a griffon, depending on their mate.”

“Ah. That is a common misconception.” The princess adopts a lecturing pose and explains, “Hippogriff mares can have ponies, griffons, or another hippogriff. It will depend on her mate. She cannot birth a pony if the sire is a griffon, for example, and the opposite is true as well.

“What a hippogriff is able to sire, however, depends on their heritage; specifically, what were the sexes and species of their parents or potentially grand or great grandparents. If his sire was a griffon then he will pass that male griffon heritage on to any male offspring. If his dam was a griffon then, again, the only griffon heritage he can pass on would be the female side.”

“So it depends on the X or Y chromosomes,” he guesses. “And if two hippogriffs have children the stallion can only have male ponies and female griffons if his sire was a pony, right?”

“Normally, yes. There is some merging of the griffon and pony halves over time. Hippogriffs with earth pony heritage tend to be bigger and stronger. Foals from pegasi tend to have larger wings, but shorter stature. Unicorns seem to almost be an average of the other two. That typically only holds true for a few generations.

“After a few generations of intraspecies mating it is possible for hippogriffs to begin producing hippogriff foals exclusively. Like with zebra blended families, it usually takes three generations before there’s enough mingling of our races for it to occur. As a result, some hippogriff families are extremely selective about who their foals, particularly their colts, are allowed to marry.”

“I don’t think I’ve ever seen a half zebra, half pony foal. Or really, a half pony anything, for that matter.”

“You very rarely will. Most species, including our own, rarely have the opportunity to meet with other species, even in border cities. Then, of course, there's the issue of attraction," she offers with a shrug. "The zebra population is also small and quite insular. You almost never will, but if you ever see a pony with stripes there’s a good chance that is why. I, at one point, was briefly in a relationship with a pegasus stallion who’s sire was a zebra,” she fondly reminisces.

“Apex had one of the most gorgeous coats you can imagine. The striped pattern that decorated his wings was so unique,” she sighs. “Every morning I would pin him down and,” Cure’s brows shoot up, “preen his beautiful wings while he pretended to object.” Typical brow altitude resumes. “He thought I was incinerating his discarded feathers, but I still have a couple of the primaries he lost while we were together.”

Celestia sighs deeply as she continues, “Sadly, politics made it difficult. His sire was not an Equestrian citizen and, eventually, insisted his family return to his home. I understand Apex was quite well received in Zebrica, being one of the very few creatures that could fly. It took a few generations, but eventually his descendants stopped being born with wings,” she softly finishes.

“That sucks,” Cure bluntly comments. “I’m not tryin to sound like a jerk here, so don’t take this the wrong way, but you’d think his sire would’a been more interested in havin his son be in a relationship with the friggin High Princess of Equestria. I’m guessin there’s more to the story… Nobles? International pressure?”

Celestia pauses for a moment in consideration, inadvertently giving Cure’s brain the time it needs to catch up to his mouth. He holds up a hoof and quickly apologizes, “Sorry, princess, I didn’t mean ta toss my snout inta yer private business like that. I mean, if you wanna talk then I’m all ears, but I don’t want to seem rude or whatever. Anything you tell me stays between us, I promise.”

“It is okay, Cure. I am the one that brought it up, after all. For now, I will simply say that there were other issues, including concerns raised by the nobility. It is ironic; for most, securing alliances with blood is the norm, yet I cannot.”

Thankfully Cure’s brain does work fast enough this time before he can ask why. It’s clearly an immensely sore subject for the princess and, while he would be fascinated to just listen to her talk about her life for literal hours, there’s no urgent need for her to spill everything right this moment.

“Well I brought up the whole hippogriff baby thing ‘cause I thought I was gonna witness a fight earlier. I’m sure you saw the hippogriff colt and griffon chick twins this morning?”

She eagerly nods, gushing about the two. “Their soft little nubby talons are so adorable when they’re born! The colt stuck one right into his dam’s nare when she went to nuzzle him. He rolled right onto his back and just latched onto her beak!” she finishes with a fond laugh.

“Heh. Cute. Well when I first saw that colt in his dam I thought the sire was gonna go bonkers. I figured she musta cheated with another hippogriff or something weird was going on. I had asked my sire about that some months ago. He mentioned the last war.”

A look of disgust crosses her features. “Ah. His mistake is understandable then. For several decades afterwards there was a great deal of animosity between our nations, and even our species. As a result, every one of the hippogriff foals born from that… incident distanced themselves from their griffon heritage. Understandable, given the circumstances.

“Since they were all the product of griffon sires, and because of the lower likelihood of birthing a colt, nearly every one ended up having pony fillies instead of hippogriff colts. There were a few, of course, but history tends to forget. It’s possible that a few of those family lines still continue amongst the hippogriffs of Cloudsdale, but I do not know.”

“Okay… that makes sense. And hippogriffs can’t get cutie marks, right? I noticed Nurse Sonic didn’t have one.”

“They cannot. Nurse Sonic is the half unicorn stallion?”

“I assumed his dam was a unicorn,” he answers with a nod.

“I believe so. I would also guess his sire is a hippogriff. I have only seen maybe a half dozen hippogriffs with horns, ever. Even with a unicorn dam they do not typically have one. I am fairly certain it is not functional.”

“So it’s like a pegacorn’s would be?”

“I can only guess, but more than likely yes. It begs the question; did he volunteer specifically in the hopes of meeting you, or is it merely coincidence. I would assume he could simply make the trip to Baltimare to seek treatment if it’s the former.”

“Maybe not. I haven’t been doing that every weekend, so I think there’s a wait list; one I’ll be clearing out ASAP starting next month. He didn’t say anything to me today, but it was pretty busy anyhow.”

“True. I believe if you offered to help him he may be elated. You’ll want to be careful how you broach the subject, though.”

“No doubt. I’ll try to find a chance to talk to him tomorrow. And don’t worry, I’ll be as tactful as I can about it. If he wants me to… I don’t wanna say fix ‘cause that implies somethin’s broken, but it would be best to do that before the season really gets goin.”

“It would,” she agrees.

“We don’t want him getting distracted, after all.”

“I suppose if he’s not accustomed to his aura,” she suggests. “It would depend to what extent his horn is disabled right now.”

“Well I just know how us stallions are. Give us something new and we just gotta play with it.”

“Many mares are little better,” she agrees with a small nod.

“Yeah, I suppose you’re right. Suddenly having a horn that works when it hasn’t for years could confuse anypony. I’m glad I’ll never have to worry about that.”

“Indeed, I’ve never experienced any problem with mine in all my centuries. I wouldn’t anticipate yours to be any different. I will warn you, the size does cause some complications.”

“I bet.” He looks up and comments, “When it gets that big it probably gets in the way all of the time.”

“Like you wouldn’t believe!” she says with a laugh. “I couldn’t tell you how many doorframes I hit when I was still growing.”

“I bet that didn’t feel good.”

“It wasn’t as painful as it would have been before my ascension, but it certainly was embarrassing. Thank the stars for the Mending spell.”

“I haven’t bashed mine on too many things, thankfully. I won’t be tall enough for it to be a constant issue for a while, if ever, I suppose. I’ll admit, I have grown mine enormous a couple of times, but only when I was alone in my bedroom.”

“You have?”

He nods.

“Why?”

He shrugs indifferently and explains, “Eh, had to get a job done and a bigger, more powerful horn was more convenient.”

“I see. So you were able to accomplish your task?”

“Oh, absolutely. I found I had to be a lot more careful and I did get some grief from the mare that got caught up in the moment, but she still appreciated how little work was required on her part thanks to the larger unit.”

Celestia takes a second to ponder that statement before hesitantly saying, “I hope she was not harmed…”

“Nope. Once I untied her and dispelled the Reduce she was perfectly fine. I helped her back on her hooves with levitate, then afterwards we had lunch together. It was nice.”

Celestia eyes the colt for a long minute in consideration. Cure gives her an innocent smile and waits patiently.

“Cure?” she calls with a light glare.

“Princess?”

“I know you’re atypical for an eight year old foal…”

Nodding along he points out, “I’m atypical by a lot of standards, boss.”

“... but sometimes I feel like you like to occasionally push past what is considered appropriate, even with your… circumstances.”

“Haven’t a clue what yer referring to, boss.”

“Really?” she forcefully inquires.

He tilts his head in faux confusion. “What are you talking about, exactly?”

“What are you talking about, exactly?” she immediately returns.

He spreads his forelegs wide and, as if it could be the only possible answer, tells her, “Moving, of course!”

“Moving?”

“Yeah. I grew a big horn for the larger aura so I could reach the whole house. First I Reduced all of our furniture, then floated it all outside into a wagon and secured it with straps. Title and I give each other a hard time so I hit her too. She was raisin a fuss after I strapped her down so I floated her back out before she broke something flailin around. Amy finished makin lunch while I was working, so we ate afterwards. Why? What were you expecting?”

“... Nothing.”

He smirks victoriously.

She huffs in annoyance.

The carriage rolls on in silence for a moment.

She gives the colt a long look before hesitantly starting, “Cure… I was wondering if you would be willing to discuss some things that were brought up during your previous visit. If you would prefer your parents’ presence or you’re overly tired there is no urgency, but…” she trails off at his nod.

“Sure thing. There’s a lot of stuff to cover and, while most of it can wait, not all of it needs to. Besides, the whole vague prophecy trope I’ve seen used in a lot of stories is lame as fudge, so yeah. It’s like… what’s the freaking point of telling somepony something if you’re going to be all confusing and misleading? Either be specific and concise or shut the fudge up and write that crap down.”

“I do not think most recipients of such things typically get to be picky about the circumstances of their delivery.”

“Yeah, I guess you are pretty lucky to have me.”

“I could not agree more,” she wholeheartedly agrees.

He groans and rolls his eyes in an exaggerated motion, getting his head, neck, and entire front half in on the act. “Damnit, princess. I told ya yesterday, that’s not how this,” he waves between them, “is supposed to work. It’s banter, ya know? Yer not supposed to bust out all that genuine sappiness.”

“Oh yes! Sorry, Cure, it slipped my mind.” She furrows her brow in thought. “You have your moments. Is that better?”

He mutters under his breath in disappointment and rubs at his temples. “Forget it,” he says, lazily flailing his hooves, “the moment’s over.”

She sighs and nods in acceptance. “I’ll do better next time.”

“Good. So… our discussion. Do you have a secure room somewhere?”

“I have one ready,” she confirms. “It was installed quite a while ago specifically for confidential discussions like this.”

“Sounds like a plan, boss. After dinner?”

“After dinner,” she agrees.

Author's Note

So, a few things. I had built out an okay buffer, but then thought, "Oh I need to add some things here," then got absolutely stuck in a way I don't think I have yet while writing this story. There have been other contributors to the problem, but long story short I have next week's chapter done and bits and pieces of the next few, but they all need a lot of work. That next week's chapter sits at over 18k didn't help.

Bottom line - I'll try to maintain the rate until my planned hiatus but I may also have to put a hold on the story earlier than I'd like to build up my buffer again. At the very least I'll come in and comment if plans need to change, so that "he's gonna disappear!" fear can be dismissed. If I really get stuck then we may just skip ahead a little to the day before/of and go from there. I do have most of that written, after all, it just needs another pass or two to be ready.

So - About this chapter. The whole Hippogriff thing was semi-planned. More will be discussed in the next chapter, obviously, though it's just one of the several topics in the winding, meandering discussion coming up.

Thanks for reading, all. Enjoy!

Chapter 75: Laying it All Out

Sunday, June 7th, 909 AB (after dinner)

“This is it?” he asks, taking in the room from the doorway.

“It is. Were you expecting something different?” she curiously asks as she climbs up on a couch.

“I mean… yeah? It’s nice, but I figured less ‘fancy den’ and more ‘fortified ritual room,’ ya know? Maybe like… candles, old, musty bookshelves, stone walls, chalk drawings on the floor. Ya know, the works. Not like… all bright and well lit with fancy couches, nice maple shelves, and plush carpeting. I’m not complaining, just surprised.”

Celestia furrows her brow and looks around the room. The colt’s description is accurate; the pair are in one of the many dens of the castle. This particular room, unlike her preferred reading rooms, is interior and, also unlike the others, has plates etched with runic diagrams laid into the walls, floor, and ceiling. “The protections are present, I assure you; they are just hidden behind the paneling and under the carpet. The room is designed for informal discussions of a confidential nature such as this.”

“Oh. Alright,” he accepts with an indifferent shrug. He follows her path into the room and alights himself on a couch opposite the ancient alicorn. “So,” he starts, only to immediately pause when her horn ignites. The door shuts and golden lines of power briefly illuminate, easily visible despite any obstruction between the plates and the colt.

Only a few seconds later her horn dims, though remains faintly glowing, and she gives him a nod.

“Neat. So… I probably should have written down an outline beforehoof. Where would you like to start?”

“If you’re willing, I would like to start with you.”

“Okay, fair enough. You already know I have memories that sorta aren’t my own.”

“Indeed. I was surprised a couple weeks back when you mentioned family ‘from before.’ I had assumed the memories consisted mainly of future events.”

Cure cringes as he slowly nods. “Yeah, sorry for droppin that on you all unexpectedly.”

“There is no need to apologize, Cure. We all need to rely on others at times.”

“Thanks, princess.” He takes a deep breath to center himself. “I’m sure there’s others, but two of the possibilities I’ve come up with are that either reincarnation is real and I’ve remembered a past life or that somehow an entirely different creature’s memories from another world got crammed into my brain, either deliberately or by some cosmic fluke.”

Celestia takes the statement in, pondering for a moment while the colt waits patiently. “Not that I doubt you, but ponies, as well as other creatures, have claimed to have memories of past lives before,” she explains. “None were verifiable. They were typically fleeting, lacking details much like a dream is upon waking.”

“These aren’t. They’re quite vivid. I may not be able to actually prove it exactly, but even aside from my ‘vision of the future,’ I recall plenty enough to dispel almost any doubt anypony could have. There’s simply no other way for me to know the things I know.”

“I do believe you, though I am curious. What memories do you possess that would substantiate your claim?”

“Lots, boss. Scientific knowledge this planet doesn’t possess is probably the lowest hanging fruit. The society that the memories come from is somewhere between one and three hundred years more advanced depending on the specific sector. Telecommunications, industry, chemistry, physics, math, medicine… you name it. Magic either didn’t exist or was rare and kept secret, so technology had to develop to accomplish similar tasks.

“I’m a great example of that,” he remarks as he motions up to his horn. “Magic lets me do things that, if done with only technology, wouldn’t be possible maybe for a millennium or more. Flight,” he says, fluffing up his wings, “is another example. We didn’t have to develop the technology here, so we didn’t. They don’t have wings, so they did.

“As a result, the extent of our flight technology is, more or less, ‘flap wings, take off’ or brute force it with magic, whereas they developed aeronautical technologies that eventually let them fly right off the planet. We haven’t even started that journey.

“Here, look, a hundred and twenty-ish years of progress in just a few images,” he says as he projects a series of pictures showing humanity’s progress in flight and gives a brief description of each image. He starts with the Wright Flyer, moves on to a WWI Biplane, skips ahead to the iconic P51, then displays progressively more advanced jets, and finally, the Endeavour. Though they lack the one hundred percent lifelike quality his scans have, they’re plenty clear enough that nopony could mistake them for the imaginary musings of a foal.

Very slowly, the princess nods in acknowledgement. “Those images, not to mention your detailed explanations, are certainly quite convincing. I can’t help but note that many of those have a somewhat… aggressive aesthetic to them.”

“The world didn’t have the advantage of an immortal, all-powerful, benevolent dictator, princess. Peace had to be won through war, and for every advancement in armor there was a corresponding advancement in weaponry. Technology eventually progressed to the point where even you, with all your power, could at best force a stalemate against some nations, given their capabilities. I don’t want to paint a grim picture of humanity here -”

Her ears fix on him and brows shoot nearly into her mane as she interrupts, “Humanity? Humans?”

“Yep, humans.”

“Bipedal? Furless?” she asks as Cure nods along. “Are you familiar with the tales of Dream Valley?”

“I’ve read ‘em,” he confirms.

Celestia smiles fondly. “We used to read those when we were fillies. We would pretend to be the ponies in those ancient stories, scarcely able to imagine a time before the Age of Chaos. Luna used to get so angry with me when I insisted on being Gusty the Great,” she explains with a giggle. “I would argue her coat and fascination with the night meant she had to be Ribbon the Dreamer.”

A serene smile plays across the princess’s face as she closes her eyes and remembers a simpler time. After a moment’s reflection she sighs and continues. “I’m sure you’re aware, a young female creature helped the ponies of that era. She was revered as a hero and, supposedly, a human.”

“Yeah, unfortunately there weren’t any drawings but the description matches. They varied a little, but she was apparently blonde and about the same height as a pony. It sounds like she usually wore jeans and, from the description, boots and a vest. I wonder if she ever told the ponies what those boots, and probably the vest, were made out of,” he adds with a chuckle.

“From your amusement I am guessing it is something they would not have approved of.”

“Probably a cow,” he answers with a nod. The stricken look on the princess’s face gets a laugh from the colt. “They’re not sapient where she came from. They’re not even as smart as birds are here.”

“Regardless, I find the notion upsetting.”

“Eh, different world, different ways, princess,” he points out with an indifferent shrug. “It’s not like we don’t eat fish, after all.”

Reluctantly, she nods in acceptance. “I suppose. Still, it is rather amazing to think that over three thousand years later another human has come, in a way. I can only assume this is not a coincidence.”

“It could be,” he counters. “There’s no evidence this girl came from the same world my memories did. If time moves the same between worlds she couldn’t have; that style of clothing didn’t get invented until maybe a hundred and fifty years ago. The world on the other side of Star Swirl’s mirror is a human one too, even if the humans are kinda… I guess, maybe, reflections of ponies here?” he ends in a very unsure tone.

Celestia’s curious expression prompts him to clarify, “Like, the best way to describe it based on what I’ve seen is that there is a Celestia there, too, but she’s not the princess of some kingdom. She has a younger sister named Luna, though.

“It’s weird and I have serious doubts that my notion of what’s on the other side of that mirror is one hundred percent accurate. For one thing, humans don’t live longer than ponies. Unless your counterparts are whatever the human equivalent of an alicorn is then I don’t see how that could be possible. If they are, then that world must not be as magically barren as I would expect, which would raise other issues.”

“Interesting. I recall you said intelligent bipeds are on the other side. I would have never guessed they could be humans. Perhaps it would be wise to investigate it, once we can assure that nopony would end up stranded there.”

“That sounds like a good idea,” he easily agrees. “Has anypony ever tried to figure out exactly how the mirror was made? I mean… I’m not tryin to skip on outta here, but if we can figure out how it works maybe we could start trading with or learnin from other worlds.”

“We were sternly warned not to do exactly that. Not only because of the safeguards to prevent tampering, but also due to the risk of somepony recreating the work. ‘For every opportunity there is an equivalent danger, young ones,’” she fondly quotes.

Cure doesn’t bother hiding the disbelief that creeps into his voice. “And you just… accepted that? You never got curious for however many hundreds of years?”

“Our mentor was one of, if not the most brilliant ponies I have ever met,” she counters somewhat defensively.

“And he was never wrong?”

“I wouldn’t say that,” she hesitantly admits, “but his advice was right far more often than it was not.”

“Well… I’m not sayin there’s no risk, but I’d suggest the opposite of the saying is true also. For every danger there’s an equivalent opportunity. Usually,” he begrudgingly adds.

“Your point has merit,” she agrees. “When I have time I will determine what I can about the mirror’s protections. If it can be done safely, I may consider allowing research into how it was developed. Either way I will let you know what I decide. You said the world on the other side is devoid of magic?”

“Supposedly,” he repeats with a nod. “I don’t think it would be a good prison for the sirens and whatever else went through if they could eventually pop back over. They are unaging, right?”

“They are only unaging so long as their phylactery remains intact. Once that is destroyed they are severely weakened and age normally. They can make another, but the ritual to do so requires several reagents that could not be easily obtained, and would not exist in a nonmagical world.”

“Phylactery?” Cure asks with no small amount of alarm.

Celestia nods, explaining, “An amulet. It is the focus through which they absorb negative emotions and cast spells. Without it they are almost powerless. They have some compulsion abilities, but they are ineffective on all but the weakest minds.”

“Oh. Do you have any idea what happens to one of us if we travel somewhere with no ambient magic?”

“I surmise little, though you would notice it. The air would feel different. Our power is our own, so it is not as if we would be somehow weakened. Grand workings and enchantments that rely on external power may fail. Compressed bags, the resizing and tracking enchantments on your regalia, for example. Not immediately, but after a few months they would run out of power unless directly supplied by somecreature.”

“That’s not too bad,” he notes, relieved. “Just a heads-up, if the mirror works like I think it does then a pony will be changed into whatever the appropriate race for them would be on the other side. Magic, the bearer, when she goes to retrieve her Element, is turned into a human.”

“Interesting. Such magic is very complex. It requires great familiarity with both the original and the altered forms to achieve without giving the target a feeling of disassociation. That the mirror is enchanted with not only teleportation magic, but also transmutation and, presumably, divination is truly fascinating. Perhaps we should have been studying it all along simply to further the science of enchanting.”

“I would definitely recommend it as long as you can trust the ponies and they have adequate oversight. We don’t want somepony opening portals to other planes all willy-nilly.”

“We do not,” she easily agrees. “I believe we got off topic. We were discussing you before I interrupted.”

“Right. You had asked about the planes which, of the ones I showed you, were mostly machines of war. Necessity is the mother of invention and several evil individuals rose to power, thus pushing the need to develop weapons to combat them. Humanity as a whole is probably not much, if any, more violent than ponies.”

Celestia nods in acceptance. She considers the colt opposite her for a moment before asking, “Do you see yourself as human? Based on what you’ve told me, even if they are not your memories, you have far more life experience from a human perspective than you do from a pony one.”

Cure scrunches his snout, waving a hoof side to side in a “sort of” gesture. “As much as I try to only be a pony, I don’t think I will ever be able to deny that my mindset is more human-like. I temper my behavior, as you’ve seen,” she nods in acknowledgement, “but I can’t even try to claim that I act exactly like a normal foal. I’m not totally different from how I used to be.

“I owe a lot of that to the formative years I had before the memories hit. I can’t fathom how screwed up I would have been under different circumstances. I’m far more assertive than I was. That just comes with knowledge and experience, though.”

“That was one of the first things I noticed,” she comments, “especially during your visit here. No foal would confront a group of minotaurs like that. You did not even hesitate to assert dominance over my own captain.”

Cure immediately thrusts an accusing hoof in her direction. “You gave me the go-ahead on that! I checked first!”

“You did. I’m not upset,” she calmly agrees, “and the way you chose to respond was telling. Nonviolent, but no less terrifying for it; the same method you attempted with your initial disguise on the train. It may not always be the correct approach, but I have little doubt the captain has warned her guards against dismissing you as they may a typical foal.”

“I… hadn’t considered that.” He only takes a moment to consider that before bobbing his head in approval. “Good. I’d be pretty pissed if I gave an order and it was ignored. The only time I would is if it was pretty freaking urgent anyhow, so havin somepony ignore it would suck.”

“Just be careful with your talent,” she cautions, “you don’t want to end up scaring everypony.”

“Yeah. Sorry ‘bout that.”

Celestia rolls her eyes at the colt’s repeated apologies. “You said sorry then and you apologized again last Sunday. It’s okay, Cure. You just caught me unprepared, that’s all.”

“Alright, alright. So anyhow, I’m more confident and outspoken, but that’s just ‘cause I know from experience how to get things done. With things I don’t know how to accomplish I find somepony that can get the ball rolling, ya know?”

“A very adult mentality,” she agrees. “I do not wish to upset you, but I recall a conversation we had last time you were here. We were discussing how information is supplied to you by your talent.”

“I remember,” he says with a nod. “And I think I know where you’re going with this. Just like my scans, the memories aren’t all stored in my brain, exactly. Instead, it’s almost like a memory of a memory when I recall things I’ve thought about before. Things that don’t belong here, that is.

“Some of those airplanes, for example. I’ve shown my mom, Title, a lot of that before, but the Shooting Star was one I just thought of. It wasn’t as iconic as the others, even if it was a revolutionary airplane. At first, no neurons fired, but once I pictured it in my head before I activated the Illusion I could basically see it being stored away in my hippocampus.

“Regardless of how I got those memories, Edward got to live his life. It…” he scrunches his snout and takes a deep breath as he continues, “I don’t need to tell you, of all ponies, how much looking back can hurt. Clinging to that past… it’s not just me that would suffer.

“Intentionally or not, my parents have all but had their foal stolen away from them. They’re too good to let it show, but it especially hurt my dam at first. Thinking of myself as him reborn helps nopony.”

“I understand,” she softly replies. “It does still beg the question as to whether others have gone through something similar. Perhaps whatever circumstances led you to remembering simply did not occur with them.”

“Dunno. The only thing special about me is that I was born seconds after you raised the sun a city over. I’m sure that over the centuries that’s happened hundreds of times, though, so who knows?”

“Indeed. Perhaps Harmony or some other force played a part, or simply used the flood of ambient magic at the time to reach out. I fear we may never know.”

“I mean, we could go ask the tree.” The suggestion gets a raised brow from the mare. “We’ll have to go help it out sooner or later anyhow. The asshole,” he points vaguely in the direction of the garden with his wing, “set some scheme up before ya stoned him, so eventually the little lady,” he motions with his head to the mark on his flank, “will need a helping hoof. I just don’t know how to go about it given there’s plunderseeds and they’re kind of an unknown.”

“That kind of intel will be very helpful. What exactly are plunderseeds and what can you tell me about them?”

“They’re some kinda plant. I don’t know much else. They sprout vines that, I think, either absorb or are immune to magic. By the way, is it safe to say his name or should I just keep calling him ‘the asshole?’”

Celestia shakes in a quiet chuckle. “Saying his name here will not draw his attention. If he were able to perceive this conversation I would at least be able to tell, even if he were not petrified at the moment. If he is somehow slightly aware then it should be even easier to detect.”

Easily accepting her explanation, Cure continues, “Okay. So Discord set up some kind of scheme before you two got him. These plunderseeds are supposedly sapping the tree of its power gradually over time. I don’t know the details, but I’m guessing that once the bearers start using the elements the combination of their usage and the vines’ draining eventually becomes too much. The plunderseeds sprout vines that grab you and Luna and trap you somehow, then start lashing out at communities near the Everfree.

“The bearers, with Discord’s help, make their way to the tree and return the physical manifestation of the elements, giving it enough power to… do something, I guess. Again, I lack the details. Bottom line? If the vines or the seeds are a biological creation then I may be able to kill them, but if they absorb pony magic then an attempt gone wrong could end up with me trapped, potentially for a really long time.”

The princess tilts her head in contemplation for a moment. Cure waits silently for her to offer her thoughts. “Perhaps we should consider aerial reconnaissance for now, then an expedition upon your maturity. With a guard contingent for support I believe we could at least ascertain the status of the tree, if not determine what level of threat these vines truly represent.”

“That would have been my suggestion as well. If I could just get a single seed then, even if I can’t directly affect one, I can at least try to develop a counteragent.”

“Yes, an indirect approach may work best,” she agrees. “You speak of Harmony as a sapient entity, not an ambiguous force.”

“I’m not sure which is more accurate. My knowledge of the world is not completely reliable, as we discussed last time. You are aware of alternate worlds or dimensions, right?”

“I am. Star Swirl’s trap, as you described it, is one.”

“Yeah, well, there’s also probably alternate versions of this world. I think we touched on this before; the version of Equus I saw didn’t have any male alicorns. The analogy I gave my parents is, imagine you’re reading a story. A character takes an action you think is foolish, so you imagine how the story would have played out had he or she done something differently.

“Instead of simply thinking of it, you take the time to rewrite the story with the alternative timeline, then send the manuscript to the original author. They like it so much, maybe they even publish the book as a ‘what if’ kind of thing. Now you have the original story and an alternative, right?”

“Yes…” she slowly agrees, unsure where the colt is headed.

“Now imagine that tens of thousands of other ponies did something similar. They rewrote the story so that the main character is a stallion instead of a mare. The protagonist and antagonist trade places. The story takes place a hundred years before or after the original.

“You get where I’m going with this. That’s a very basic version of the problem I have with this world’s future. I have a passing familiarity with the ‘Original Story,’” he says with air quotes, “but that’s just one iteration of the thousands of alternate timelines Edward read about.”

The princess’s wings sag slightly as the situation becomes apparent to her. “That means that any potential intel you could provide is highly suspect, Cure. It’s still far better than most prophecies, and much has aligned so far, but…”

“I know,” he replies when she trails off. “That’s my whole point. There’s a whole bunch of versions of you, especially. I had no idea what you would actually be like until you showed up at my doorstep. I nearly pissed myself the instant I saw you because I had no idea if you were there to vaporize me before I could become a threat or something.”

“I would never -” she begins to shout, pausing when he holds up a hoof.

“I know that now. Some of those stories involve Daybreaker, though.”

That causes an even stronger reaction. The princess recoils away, rising to her forehooves on the couch with her wings spread wide. “I have never spoken that name aloud,” she nearly shouts.

Cure shrugs in indifference. “I mean, whatever. I’m not accusin ya of anything, boss. I know that’s not you, just like Nightmare Moon isn’t Luna. Everypony has the capacity for evil, Celestia. Maybe most don’t go through a physical transformation when they think about kicking an annoying yapping puppy, but hay, it’s still there. I couldn’t know ‘till I met ya, though, now could I?”

She blows out a deep breath and resettles on the couch. It takes a moment and more than one flick of her large wings before she is reseated and completely calmed down. “I apologize, Cure. I know you are simply telling me what you know, but that such a private detail was exposed is discomforting.”

“Nopony is perfect, boss. I do worry about you though. Quite a bit, in fact.”

“I recall you voicing concerns regarding my work schedule before. Don’t worry about me. I am quite alright.”

“Are you?” he sincerely questions. Not giving her time to answer, he continues, “Humans live, on average, seventy five years. Rarely over a hundred. The widely accepted ages for employment are typically from about sixteen until maybe their early to mid fifties if they planned well, or into their mid sixties or later if needed. Ponies seem to be content working until they drop assuming they’re able to stick to their special talent, but over a literal millennium of work, boss… that sounds unhealthy.”

“I am following my destiny, Cure. I get great satisfaction from my job.”

“Okay. You know better than I. Can I ask a rather private question as a medical professional?”

“I suppose,” she hesitantly allows.

“Thanks. And don’t feel like I expect you to tell me, but when’s the last time you went out, had a few drinks, found a nice stallion or mare, and had a fun roll in the hay?”

“Oh my stars, seriously?” she incredulously asks. “I admit, I am fine with us speaking more candidly than I would be with most of my little ponies, but really, Cure?”

“Sex is a healthy part of life, princess. You’re a healthy, biologically twenty-ish mare. From a medical standpoint having absolutely no sex drive at all is generally considered a concern, not to mention a symptom of a number of problems. Since I can easily rule out physical reasons that really only leaves psychological reasons if that is, indeed, something you experience.”

She doesn’t seem angry, but the mare is definitely responding defensively. “In what way are you qualified to diagnose such things, hmm?”

“I may not be,” he agrees. “I have super senses, though. I also routinely give mares extremely invasive medical exams. I can tell if a mare has had sex recently. Usually I can tell who their partner is and, in some cases, what position they did it in. The bottom line is that I have a pretty good idea how and how often ponies have sex. If you don’t want to talk to me that’s perfectly fine, but how would you feel about hiring a professional that is qualified instead?”

“That is completely unnecessary, I assure you.”

“Okay. Lemme ask you this; Do you have a physician on staff that’s your primary care doctor?”

“I do, the same one responsible for many of the staff here.”

“Do you occasionally get a physical done? Checks to ensure your heart is healthy, stuff like that?”

“Not a physical, exactly. Just a routine check on my heart, pulse, and so forth. Dr. Bran takes every opportunity to harass me to exercise more.”

Cure frowns in thought and reflexively looks at the princess’s figure analytically. A scowl begins to form on her face in response. “Why? You’re in nearly perfect shape for an adult mare.”

The mare blows out a sigh in relief. “I don’t know. I suspect she finds little else to address. I admit, I am more sedentary than is ideal, but I do not believe that matters for us as much.”

“It doesn’t. That kinda proves my point, though. You have a doctor and you get occasional check-ups despite the fact that all evidence indicates you have no need for them,” he finishes rolling his hoof and giving her an expectant look.

Picking up where he’s going with his line of inquiry, Celestia hesitates to respond. Her snout scrunches in distaste at the line of questioning, which he interprets correctly as reluctance to address the subject.

“Hmm,” he hums in thought. “If you catch a really bad cold, unlikely as it may be, what would happen if you just… I dunno, snapped your own neck?”

Celestia once again finds herself dumbfounded at the question.

“Presumably you’d come back an hour or so later, right? Would you still be sick?”

“I… don’t know. I’ve never been sick when…”

“What about injuries? You have absolutely no scars whatsoever, something I find amazing for somepony that has been on the battlefield. When you die and come back are all your injuries healed?”

“They are.”

“How many times have you killed yourself?” he matter-of-factly asks. Her eyes almost bulge out of her head and wings raise at the question. He maintains a stoic look and continues, “I’m not judging you, Celestia. If you know you’re going to come back fully healed it’s a valid tactic. Having a broken leg and taking weeks to heal is kind of inefficient if you can just off yourself and be fine in an hour. I would ask that from now on you call me instead, but whatever,” he finishes with another shrug.

“I believe I would like to get back to the subject of our discussion,” she insists.

“Okay. That’s fine. I hope you’ll consider it, but I certainly have no way to compel you to speak to somepony. Just know that you have a few million ponies out there that care; find one you can trust that knows what the hay they’re talking about, please.” Piece said, he moves on before potentially upsetting her. “So a few other things I know that are likely to happen eventually…” he ponders aloud.

He perks up as a memory hits. “The Alicorn Amulet pops up. That’s not a huge problem; Magic deals with that pretty easily, but hay, if we can find that and lock it away then all the better.”

“A dangerous artifact, indeed,” she agrees, settling back into calmer demeanor after the derailment. “I am familiar with it, though I have not heard mention of it since Sombra’s banishment.”

“Oh so it is his?”

“He created it,” she confirms. “It is a focus for dark magic. He was planning to use it as a catalyst to corrupt the Crystal Heart, then, I suspect, use its power to try to ascend. Given the potency of the dark magic within it, it should not be difficult to detect unless it is shielded somehow. Or, perhaps, if it is too far away. Such an artifact should be detectable for hundreds of kilometers.”

“Cool. I have no idea who has it. Is the spell to detect it something that others can do as well?”

“Yes.”

“Would you be capable of messing with the enchantment if we find it? Either undoing it or, better yet, weakening the user instead of empowering them? Or just making a fake one that would pass as the original?”

“I cannot say offhoof. Given sufficient time, I would surmise the answer is yes, either or both options should be feasible. I would prefer to destroy the actual amulet, if possible.”

“Me too, but having a trap ready would be nice also. What about that detection spell? Can it also detect cultists? Sgt. Haze mentioned some causing trouble in Whinnyapolis a few years back.”

“It can if you happen to cast the spell while they are actively using such magics, or if they have imbued something with dark magic and failed to shield its container. It’s a modified version of Detect Magic, so others could learn it without much difficulty. The detection range would depend on the amount of power they are using and, again, protections they have established.”

“Have you considered putting it into a set of crystals and having every metro run a scan every so often?”

“I… had not considered that, no. The threat is not significant, typically, so it has never been a major concern.”

“I think you said the same thing about ensuring your guards are who they appear to be. Ya know, most catastrophes aren’t usually a ‘once and done’ thing. They’re a series of small, often seemingly unrelated failures that end up with a disaster.”

“I am very well acquainted with how catastrophes occur, Cure. I appreciate the suggestion, but just because something could happen does not mean that it is necessary to overreact while trying to prevent it.”

“Fair enough. I just know that it’s difficult to quantify the cost of a failure until it’s already happened. Just how dangerous can one of those cults be?”

“Far less than a trained, competent guard, typically. If you’re using Sombra as a measuring stick for dark magic users then know that he is an extreme outlier. Despite that, if it weren’t for his contingency then, in all likelihood, you would not even know his name. He would just be another of the hundreds of forgotten fools that thought they found a shortcut to power.”

Cure almost blurts out a quip about the two of them finding a shortcut to power, but recalls that Celestia had mentioned their dam’s sacrifice. The memory thankfully stops his comment before he opens his mouth. Unaware of his near slip, Celestia continues, “I have specialist squads equipped specifically to combat such threats. They are quite effective.”

“Cool. I would like to have a chance to learn what they know when I’m older. Ya never know when that could be needed, and if I’m going to be around a long time I’m sure I’ll encounter it eventually.”

“You will have the opportunity,” she assures him.

“Great. So there’s that, there’s Discord. I already told you about Chrysalis and the changelings. OH! There’s a sorcerer that’s trying to steal love that crops up probably in fifty, sixty years or so. I don’t have any other details but I’m guessing it’ll happen somewhere to the north. A pegasus that I think has ties to the Crystal Empire stops him with the power of Love somehow and dons that mantle as a result,” he says while motioning upwards to his horn and ruffling his feathers.

The gesture does not escape the mare’s notice. “Should such a report come to me I will keep an eye on it. By then you will be capable of interfering, but you must not unless something goes horribly awry. That sounds like a situation I would normally dispatch one of those squads to.”

“Maybe you get a vision of her ascension, which is why neither of us steps in.”

“I suspect I already have. What color is her coat?”

“Pink. She’s a pegasus version of my mom, almost. My tax pony has the same colors too.”

“Not an uncommon color, but yes… I believe I have seen her in a vision.”

“Neat. Most of the rest of the stuff I’ve seen won’t be an issue until ninety years from now. For example, Cerberus gets distracted at some point and lets Tirek escape. You’ll have a vision there too and, as part of his reformation, you’ll ask Discord to locate him.”

“I… ask Discord to help?” The disbelieving look on her face makes Cure wonder how future Celestia could have ever done something so dumb.

“I know. It sounds stupid just saying it out loud. As you may surmise, Discord, being what he is,” he offers a hoof to her.

“A fool,” she offers.

“That works too. Asshole was the number one answer. Anyhow, he joins forces with Tirek. Shock and dismay,” Cure rolls his eyes, “It’s a good thing you’re already sitting down for this next part… Tirek eventually betrays him too.” Cure pauses to throw his hooves in the air and make the most surprised face he can muster. “Who could have possibly seen that one coming?!” he asks in a raised voice.

Celestia snorts a laugh, nodding in agreement. “Oh yes. Certainly. I would never have predicted such a thing.”

“Right? Eventually Magic gives him a right proper beating and the other bearers chip in to sap his stolen energy. Instead of ripping his head off you send him back to Tartarus again, I think.

“I’m going out of order here, so my bad. Before Tirek, Sombra and the Crystal Empire, which sounds like some kinda teeny-bop band name, do show up. Love is set to assume the throne there but the Elements go up and almost kill him. That’s while Magic is still a unicorn, so it may be years prior.

“I’ll tell you right now, I plan on finishing that job. Him and Tirek both are threats I don’t intend to leave alive. In fact, I’d recommend going into Tartarus and offing the centaur tomorrow if you got room in your schedule. He’s an existential threat to the planet and doesn’t deserve half measures.”

“I cannot do that. I do not have the authority to simply enter Tartarus and execute whomever I choose.”

“Okay. If he escapes he’s dead meat, though. I’m not going to risk the entire planet on the off chance he’s redeemable. Everything I’ve seen indicates he’s not.”

“If he remains a threat, by all means,” she agrees.

“Glad we’re on the same page. I’ve covered the plundervines as much as I can. I guess the next big one would be some asshole that calls himself the Storm King. Is there a community of hippogriffs to the south somewhere separate from Equestria?”

“There is, but they cut off formal relations with other nations over six hundred years ago.”

“We may want to reach out to them at some point. That Storm King dude will nearly wipe ‘em out, then come for us next. He has some staff that he wants to use to steal the power of the alicorns with.”

The suggestion gets a worried look from the princess. “Can you describe it?”

“No, I have no idea what it looks like. Its name starts with ‘S a’ though. Sagittarius? Sanctus? San-something-is maybe-”

“Sacanas?”

Cure pauses and slowly nods. “That’s probably right. It sounds right, at least. You’ve heard of it?”

“You… could say that,” she demures. The tone gets a raised brow from the colt who waits patiently as the mare makes a noble attempt at maintaining her nonchalance. She bites the side of her cheek and looks away. Guilt practically radiates off the princess as she’s clearly uncomfortable with the topic.

“What did you do?” he finally asks in his best dad voice.

Pawing at the couch, she looks down with drooping ears and sagging wings. “I may have, possibly, at one point… gone a tad bit… overboard? Perhaps?”

“You… made it, didn’t you?” he asks in a scolding tone.

“No!” she shouts. Openly cringing, she quietly adds, “Not by myself, at least.”

He points a hoof at her and narrows his eyes. “I will come over there and bite those ears if you don’t tell me what you did! Don’t think I won’t do it, lady!”

She pins her ears back and pouts at the colt. It is not very effective.

“It was developed as a means to contain the Nightmare. It was my hope that I could find a way to release my sister early and entrap the malevolent entity possessing her. I tasked the greatest minds of several generations to develop a way to free her from its influence and the staff is the result.

“The project began just after her imprisonment and, I confess, I was not completely in the right state of mind. While it should work, in theory, ultimately I could not find a way to safely undo the Elements’ banishment. There’s no reason to be concerned, though. The staff is securely locked away in one of my vaults right here in Canterlot.”

He points a hoof at her and says, “You just guaranteed it isn’t right there. A thousand bits says it’s missing.”

“There is no way anypony has successfully bypassed the locks and taken it without my knowledge,” she defiantly argues.

“You’re just doubling down. Ten thousand bits says it’s gone now.” The princess scowls at the colt, offended he doubts her assurances. He argues, “This Storm King dude gets his hands on it somehow, otherwise how would I know it exists at all? Just like the others, he’s stopped by Magic, but he still causes a ton… err, a lot of damage during the invasion. I would be delighted if that mess never got off the ground in the first place.”

“I will check immediately after our discussion,” she assures him.

“Can you check now? Is it something you can do in just a second?”

“I suppose, if it will bring you peace of mind. I will have to deactivate the privacy spell,” she motions to the walls. “Give me a moment.”

“Sure,” he happily agrees.

Celestia’s horn glows brighter for a moment before the walls flash again. When the effect fades she vanishes in a flash of yellow light. Cure gets up and walks over to the door to open it and poke his head outside.

“Hey Sarge?” he calls to his unicorn guard.

“Sir?”

“I know the princess does her fancy spell to call for refreshments, but I don’t know what it is,” he says as he pushes the door open so the six guards can see inside. “She teleported out to check on something real fast. I know y’all ain’t servants or nothin, but is there any chance somepony knows how to call for some drinks or whatever?”

“Specialist Redshift,” he calls as he turns to the pegasus on the princess’s detail.

“Sir!”

“Please flag down a servant and request some… water?” he asks, looking back to Cure.

“Sure, maybe some tea for the boss lady?”

The sergeant gives a firm nod and continues, “Water and tea for their highnesses. Also, have them bring some biscuits with it.” He smirks at the colt and adds, “Her majesty won’t be upset if there’s some sweets on the cart, will she?”

A round of chuckles escape the group and Cure can’t help but nod in agreement. “I’m confident she will not, sergeant. If you really wanna get on her good side, though, cake is where it’s at.”

“We’ve noticed,” her unicorn quietly mumbles.

“And if they bring two carts and one accidentally gets left out here,” Cure casually suggests with a shrug, “Oops.”

“That would be a real tragedy,” the sergeant agrees. “Get to it, specialist,” he orders.

The pegasus gives a curt nod and takes off down the hall. “Great! Thanks, fellas,” he says as he ducks back in the door.

He hops back on the couch and settles in, making a guess as to why the princess isn’t back yet. “Does not bode well,” he comments aloud to the empty room. He takes a deep breath and lays down, resting his neck and chin on the soft cushion. A few minutes pass until there’s a knock at the door. Cure hops up and opens it wide to find a pair of servants pushing a couple carts. The first has a few pitchers of water and a large, steaming pot of tea. The second has several plates with biscuits, cookies, and a couple slices of white cake on it.

Cure thanks the servants and asks that they come by later to pick up the carts. Once they’re gone he rearranges the carts’ loads so the tea, a pitcher of water, the cake, and a plate of biscuits are on the first, leaving the rest on the second. He pulls the first cart in the room and looks to the other. “Pardon me, gentlestallions. The room just seems too crowded with both carts in here. I sure hope all this doesn’t go to waste out in the hallway. Wink Wink.”

As he pushes the door shut he hears one of them ask, “Did he just say wink wink?” while the others immediately tell the stallion to shut his dumb mouth.

The door no more than latches shut before a flash illuminates the far side of the room. The princess, visibly frazzled, blinks to clear her vision before she locks onto the plate hovering in front of her snout. She goes crosseyed focusing on the cake Cure is holding for her before she takes it in her magic with a thanks.

“So did you get done checking the, I’m guessing, empty vault or did you just sense that cake had entered the room and didn’t want to miss out?”

Despite the scowl she sends him she doesn’t waste a second tearing off a quarter of the slice with her magic and tossing it in her maw. “The vault was not empty, thank the maker. That said, the staff is missing. It looks as if it has been for quite a while.”

“Oh, lovely,” he comments as he hops back up on his couch. He rolls the cart between them and slightly to the side and pours her a cup of tea and himself some water. “Our guards were kind enough to send for refreshments. Is the spell you use to call somepony something you can show me?”

“It’s just Sending. You just need to know who is on the schedule for the day. I’ll have a daily schedule delivered to your room starting tomorrow.”

“Sounds good. So, the staff?”

She lets out a weary sigh, idly looking around the room. Her horn flashes and the wards reactivate as the last few bites of her cake disappear. Cure looks at his slice, then meets the princess’s eyes before he conspicuously turns around to admire a random bookshelf. The gentle click of porcelain being set down on a cart a few seconds later signals it’s time for him to turn back and be perplexed by his missing dessert.

“Odd, I didn’t hear any mice,” he mumbles.

“They are very sneaky,” she insists as she takes a small sip of her tea. “I will speak to Captain Shield and put an alert out in regards to the staff. I would rather not spread word to the masses that such a relic has disappeared. Unlike the amulet, the staff itself does not emit an easily trackable form of magic.”

“Detect Magic wouldn’t work?”

“Not unless a substantial amount of energy has already been absorbed into the crystal.”

“Wonderful. I don’t suppose your whole ‘eye in the sky’ trick works on things like it does on creatures, does it?”

“It does not.”

“Even better. Can you show me what it looks like?”

“Certainly. It was not my finest work,” she comments as she projects an image.

“Yeesh. Did you go through a goth phase or something?”

“I have no idea what that means.”

“Black clothes, pale colors, whiny entitled attitude, shitty music about how unfair the world is. Basically what everypony else thinks is neat is lame but caring enough to do something about it takes effort so instead they just smoke and brag to each other how much they dislike crap.”

“Umm… okay.”

“Never mind,” he says with a dismissive wave. “I don’t suppose you put a failsafe in it? Some kind of self-destruct you can cast remotely?”

The thoughtful frown is enough of an answer. That may be something nopony has ever considered with weapons before, he guesses.

He follows up asking, “How about any weakness it has? Fire magic, smashing the crystal, anything like that?”

“It will absorb most forms of energy, fire included. The crystal is an extremely high quality one capable of holding unfathomable amounts of power. I would not recommend shattering it while nearby. The staff, while sturdy, is the best place to strike it. A strong enough blow will break it and disable the entire unit without the risk of an explosion.”

“Got it. Me find rock. Smash good.”

“So eloquent.”

Cure grunts in the affirmative. The two pause for a moment to refresh their drinks and grab a treat. He finally breaks the silence moving on to the next subject. “Star Swirl the Bearded.”

“What about him?”

“He’s alive, trapped in limbo with the other pillars.”

“What?! Cure, how could you not tell me this last time?! Do you know what I would give to see him again? For over fifteen hundred years I’ve wondered what happened to him and you could have told me months ago?”

“Do you know how to open a portal to limbo?”

She wrinkles her snout in a grimace before reluctantly answering, “... No. Do you?”

“I do not. I just know that he and the other Pillars are banished with the Pony of Shadows, who was originally his assistant or something. Magic happens upon something and somehow tracks down the location, I think. Does the word Ponehenge mean anything to you or was that just something someone made up?”

“Ponehenge is deep in the woods just south of the Foal Mountains, not far from Baltimare.”

“Oh. Oops. Well either way I haven’t the slightest idea how to free them. All I know is that they locked themselves away with the Shadow. I would bet good money one can’t be released without the other and, given the name, we’re probably talking about something like the Nightmare.”

“That’s likely correct,” she agrees. “Without the Elements I am unsure how to go about defeating such a creature, and I obviously care not to build a second Staff in the hopes that it may work.”

“I would have serious objections to that as well,” Cure comments. “MacGuffins like that usually end up backfiring. The Elements are only so reliable, I bet, because they have a will guiding their actions.”

“MacGuffins?”

Cure adopts a lecturing tone and explains, “A plot device that’s usually unquantifiable. Think ultimate weapons or secret moves in literature. When the protagonist uses X, whatever X may be, it means the bad pony is about to lose, almost no matter what. Not always, though; X will fail nearly one hundred percent of the time if the antagonist is only just released or if X was built specifically for that exact scenario.

“That’s doubly true if you brag about how X will definitely work, and it just keeps getting worse the more you downplay the threat specifically because you have X on your side. The counter there is if the villain mocks X saying it could never work. The more they mock X or the protagonist the harder they’re going down.

“Also, X will always work if the protagonist has to spend time after their initial defeat to improve it, or if the life of their love interest depends on X working. It’s even more powerful when an innocent is threatened like a foal or whatever.” The colt gives a firm nod at the end of his rant.

Celestia stares for a few seconds completely bewildered, then breaks down in a fit of laughter. She laughs boisterously for nearly thirty seconds while he stares on in confusion. Her laughter comes to a sudden stop when she realizes that, despite the absurdity of the claim, Cure appears to have not been joking at all.

Taking in his stoic visage, Celestia slowly asks, “You… you cannot truly believe that, right?”

“Absolutely. You don’t?” he asks, equally baffled.

“Cure… that is not true to real life at all.”

He scoffs and shakes his head. “I promise you, it really is. This is a world in which narrative causality is a real force. Have you not ever seen the pattern?”

“There is no pattern to be seen,” she argues.

He looks at the ancient mare with a renewed sense of wonder. “Oh my stars… you’re blind to it! When you said nopony could predict cutie marks I thought maybe you were just saying that! No wonder that’s obscured to you when it’s so freaking obvious to me. I’m an outside context problem!”

A look of alarm crosses her features for a moment until she seemingly dismisses the idea. “I propose that the phenomenon may not be anything to be concerned about. While being able to notice that which others do not may be due to your unique situation, it does not necessarily indicate there’s any reason to worry.”

“I don’t…” he pauses in thought for a moment before restarting. “I would somewhat agree that it’s not a big deal, but there are probably some instances where a pony has a name that sounds innocuous to you all, I’ll recognize the potential issue right away. The best example I can think of involves a pair of scam artists whose names, when combined, are another name for a scammer.”

“Do they cause significant problems or are they mere nuisances?”

“The latter, I think. What’s weird is that they also seemed to be brilliant inventors that could’a made way more doing that than scammin ponies. It’s like they had a compulsion and didn’t use common sense at all.”

“That is perhaps more of a concern,” she agrees. “I would suggest you make note of such ponies, but attempt to remain unbiased. If you were to come across one that causes you grave concern then, by all means, inform me. I promise I will at least listen to your concerns. I would, however, encourage you to take care when taking action.”

“I know. I’m already careful with that stuff. Why do you think I set up Drift and Rising like I did instead of just telling them?”

“Good,” she says with a single nod of approval. “That still leaves me with what to do about my mentor.”

“I’d suggest waiting until you have a plan to deal with something at least as powerful as Nightmare Moon; a plan that doesn’t just rely on one lynchpin to succeed. You know how I dealt with the train assholes. Plan like that. Overwhelming force with little or nothing left to chance. Prepared backup to cover my flanks and redundancies to account for nearly every variable.”

“Except a stun spell,” she argues.

“You think?” he smirks. He spreads his wings wide. “Fire away, boss.”

She raises a curious brow and, at his encouraging nod, fires a basic stun bolt at the colt. The shot impacts square on his chest and discharges over him to no effect. “How?”

“Dragon scale insulated, enchanted subdermal armor. Give me ten seconds of prep time and I’m almost magic-proof below my skin.”

“Fascinating. I may ask for assistance developing wearable armor like that in the future if you’d be amenable to it. Cold iron works well, but is not easy to work or shape.”

“I’m not completely opposed. That may help with the Shadow, but we would still need offensive options.”

“Indeed. I will still have an expeditionary force dispatched from Fort Meadow to survey the site.”

“Perimeter only!” he insists in a raised voice. “They should have strict orders not to enter the… monument? Formation?” She nods. “Yeah, tell them you believe it to be a trap of some kind, which is true, and they should secure the perimeter without stepping hoof near the monument itself.”

“That is reasonable,” she agrees. “I will directly order that none are to enter the immediate area, nor are they to interact with it in any way. I will need to organize a group of researchers to survey it… that is okay, right?”

“As long as none of them is a conceited idiot, sure. It’s always the dude that says, ‘There’s nothing here!’ or ‘These are just rocks and you’re wasting my time!’ They’re the one that’ll accidentally set it off in the worst possible way. Or they’ll be a secret cultist thinking they can steal the Shadow’s power or subjugate it somehow. Gotta watch for that too.”

She stares for a moment, then rubs at her temples. “You truly are the most paranoid colt on the planet, aren’t you?”

“Probably,” he easily agrees.

“Are there any other possibly made up locations I need to dispatch guards to?”

The colt scoffs, insisting, “Don’t blame me for that! I figured Ponehenge was just another stupid pony pun.”

“Pony pun?”

“Really?” he asks, a single brow hiked.

“Really, Cure. I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

“Eh, I guess you wouldn’t. Lemme just put it this way, this whole world is just full of stupid pony puns. City names, ponies’ names, locations… puns everywhere. It’s maddening at times,” he solemnly admits. “Name a city.”

“Okay. Canterlot,” she offers with a shrug.

“Camelot was a fictional city from old stories that, as far as I recall, was about as close to utopia as humankind could envision at the time. See? Pony pun.”

“Okay, Baltimare.”

“Baltimore. It’s a major city in the state of Maryland. A state is a province, essentially. Part of the country that Edward lived in. Its full name is The United States of America, which is a funny coincidence, but it was named after some dude, not a pony. A lot of their cities’ names are really similar, just ours have a pony word substituted in somewhere. Like Manehattan instead of Manhattan. Fillydelphia instead of Philadelphia. Chicoltgo, Chicago, Foaledo, Toledo. The list goes on.”

“Cloudsdale doesn’t have any pony words in its name.”

“It does not,” he agrees. “Cloudsdale is a little different. There isn’t an equivalent city I can think of, but there is a breed of horses -”

“Horses exist on… I don’t believe you told me the world’s name. I assume it differs?”

“Yep. Earth, and yes, they have horses. I’m fairly confident that the vast majority of animals that exist on Earth exist here too. The opposite isn’t always true though. Anything with magic like a cockatrice you can safely assume are either nonexistent or only exist in old legends. Dragons, griffons, kirin… those are all mythical creatures on Earth.

“Don’t misunderstand me, though. The only sapient creature on the entire planet is humans, though there’s an argument to be made that some animals have some of the signs of sapience. Dolphins and elephants are generally thought of as more intelligent, but they’re not even close to how smart animals can get here.

“So while they have ponies, yaks, deer, and a number of other creatures that are or can be sapient here they are literally just dumb animals on earth. I’m pretty sure that a pony is, by their definition, a different kind of horse, just not as tall. I mean, there’s different breeds, like I was saying about clydesdales. Those, in particular, are pretty large horses. They used to be, and still are in some areas, beasts of burden.”

“This,” she waves a hoof at the colt, “is very much an example of where I feel you differ significantly from a typical pony. I think most would be exceedingly upset at the prospect of a creature that is similar to themselves but is being treated like an animal.”

“Eh… probably at first, but there’s a number of physical differences that would make it less weird. Basically everything from the shoulders forward is very different, they have longer, taller barrels. I mean, there’s no denying that the overall look is close, but from what I understand of deer, they’re far closer to their non-sapient cousins here than we are to ponies of earth.”

“I suppose that is a valid point,” she concedes.

“It’s kinda funny, but you, with your wings and taller stature, bear more than a passing resemblance to a very famous mythical creature on Earth. A divine winged horse named Pegasus. As in, proper name, not a type of horse or pony. This’ll freak ya out right proper, I bet. Have a look,” he says with a smirk as he projects the famous TriStar logo, though the quality isn’t the best due to his imperfect memories.

Celestia looks at the image and slowly pans her gaze back to the snickering colt. “You have got to be joking,” she deadpans.

“Nope. It’s weird as fudge, isn’t it?”

“If you had started this conversation with that I would have thrown you out of the castle,” she admits. “Dispel that… image,” she commands, face full of disgust.

“I wouldn’t be too offended. Pegasus is considered an exceedingly beautiful creature. He was a full-blown god, I think. That image was used as a company’s logo. A large, successful one. Of course, even with its worldwide fame, in the ‘girls aged six to twelve’ demographic Pegasus couldn’t hold a candle to your popularity.”

“I am popular with foals in another world?”

“Oh yeah. Like you wouldn’t believe. Maybe not anywhere near as popular as your sister, but still…”

Completely unperturbed by the suggestion, Celestia curiously asks, “Humans like Luna more?”

“It’s not even close. Luna was way, way more popular than anypony else in the show. She was more popular than the friggin main characters, even!”

“Show?”

“Right, duh, I didn’t even really cover that part. The version of this world I saw was distributed to humans in a form of entertainment we don’t have an equivalent to. It was called television and, as the name implies, it allows viewers to watch something that is occurring in a location other than where the viewer is.”

Cure projects a basic Illusion of a television from Edward’s childhood. “This is a television. One from early on in Edward’s life. Just like airplanes, technology advanced rapidly over the years. The one he bought a few years before he passed,” he changes the Illusion, “was thinner, lighter, had a far superior picture, better sound, and some capabilities that would lead into far more tangents that will keep us here all night.”

Celestia hums in thought. “So these televisions… this is the source of your knowledge of the future?”

“Yes. Or, at least, the ‘Original Story’ that I described. A television show came out around ten years before he died. It was incredibly popular, not just with the target demographic-”

“The foals aged six to twelve?”

“Right. Like goats, humans call their young kids, so if you hear me say that, there ya go. Anyhow, the show was called,” he pauses a moment for dramatic effect, then alters the illusory television’s display as he announces, “My Little Pony: Friendship is Magic.”

Celestia once again pans from the illusion to the smirking colt. “Great! Now I will think of this every single time I say that.” Cure just snickers in response, nodding along. “I have been using that line for over a thousand years. Do you have any idea how annoying that’s going to be? Having that,” she waves at the TV, “pop up in my head every time?”

“Wow, I may have unleashed the world’s first memetic hazard!” he proudly beams. Her raised brow prompts him to explain. “A memetic hazard is where a word or phrase gets associated with something else to the point where it is annoying and you can’t get it outta yer head. Back on topic, the first episode of the show was what I described on the balcony last time. You send a unicorn to Ponyville, your sister returns, the Elements free her, etcetera.

“Humans, for whatever reason, associate more closely with imperfect beings. Luna, having fallen from grace and been redeemed, became a hit with viewers. Her struggles to be accepted by ponies also struck a chord with the audience. I assume the authors of the show had her doing funny, quirky things just to get a laugh. It all added up and, as a result, Luna was insanely popular even though I don’t think she was in a whole bunch of episodes.”

“And my portrayal was more idyllic?”

“Kind of. It’s a show for little kids and the protagonist, Magic, has to have burdens to overcome, so your portrayal had you making some really questionable decisions. Most episodes are unrealistic; the premise is to provide entertainment to kids while teaching them lessons, particularly about friendship as you may have gathered. The whole series leads up to her eventually assuming the throne when you and Luna retire.”

Her brows shoot right up to her maneline with that suggestion. “I retire? From ruling Equestria?”

“Yup. The passage of time is kind of unclear, but the series ends somewhere between seven and ten years after it starts. Magic has only been an alicorn for five or six years at that point, so if you try that here I will literally glue you to that throne. She needs a solid ten years of governing experience before I’d even put her in charge of a city, let alone the whole shebang.”

“It wouldn’t matter,” she casually remarks. “With your coronation you would be next in line for the throne either way. Love would be after you and you would both have seniority even over my sister, in fact. The nation was technically reestablished with a new capital after her banishment, so she will legally not be a princess immediately upon her return. She will need to be crowned before she could assume any royal duties.”

Cure gawks, open mouthed, at the statement. He pours another glass of water and, in one move, chugs the entire thing. A full-body shudder escapes him while the princess watches on, smiling in genuine satisfaction.

She has to hold back a laugh when he stands and begins pacing back and forth on the couch, muttering and cursing under his breath. Credit where it’s due; humans, she ponders, appear to be quite accomplished profaners. The stream of expletives that spill from the colt goes beyond inappropriate clear into begrudgingly impressive.

“Feel better now?” she asks when he finally stills and flops on his rear.

“Not particularly,” he admits with a huff. “Well… whatever,” he growls ruffling his wings in agitation. “I’ve already laid out my plans if I’m put in charge. Find able leaders, show them how to use their talents properly, set up an overwatch committee, and make a brutal example of anypony that betrays the public trust. It would suck for the first few years, but otherwise… meh.”

“And if that day were to ever come that would be your choice. I do not think that is for me, though.”

“I mean, whatever. I’ve already voiced my concerns there. Have you considered having at least a few ponies that can cover for you so you can take time off?”

“Well that’s what I have you for!” she exclaims with another round of laughter.

“The fffrick you do!” he grows back. The way he lowers himself into a pounce strikes the princess as inordinately adorable and she can’t help but laugh aloud. He responds with a cute pout and hangs his head, pawing at the couch with a forehoof. “Big ‘ol mean bully. Pickin on innocent lil colts,” he whines with a fake sniffle.

“Yes, yes. You’re horribly mistreated,” she patronizes with an exaggerated nod.

“Made me work for free all day then mentally abuses me before bed. I’m filing a complaint with my union rep.”

“Inexplicably,” she begins, “I believe we have gotten off topic again.”

“True. Hey, you wanna see a short snippet with you and Luna from the show?”

“Certainly. I am truly interested now.”

The colt gives her a nod and focuses on the mental image. “This is only like a thirty second clip of the show. I’m projecting myself in place of the actual pony that was there, but… here ya go.” Cure projects the scene between the two, doing the best he can to faithfully reproduce it despite the fact he barely remembers the actual lines.

The aesthetic is all wrong, even if he did try to “cartoon-ize” it as much as he can recall. Rather than the animated Celestia, her larger barrel and more realistic face bleed into the projection. Luna, he suspects, is more like the animated memory, but with her being such a popular character outside of the series he isn’t sure if he used the correct depiction for that point in the show.

Celestia watches completely enthralled by the scene, short as it is. A choked sob escapes her when her sister first speaks and, once again, a poor, innocent handkerchief meets an untimely, sopping end.

“As you may have gathered just from that short bit, the premise of the episode is that each of you thinks the other has an easier job. The pony that I substituted myself in for has a ridiculously powerful talent; she can remove ponies’ cutie marks and, though I don’t know if she could normally do so, in that episode she swaps yours and your sister’s along with your talents.”

“I see. So the lesson was…?” she inquires.

“Eh, probably that we should appreciate what other ponies do. Maybe a little of the whole ‘the grass is greener’ thing too. I dunno, I just remember Alanna demanded pancakes for dinner after that episode aired. She turned her nose up at strawberries her whole friggin life up to that point, but when Princess Celestia decorated her pancakes with ‘em, all the sudden the seeds didn’t look like tiny bugs anymore.” He scoffs and shakes his head in disbelief. “Kids.”

“Foals often place greater value on the opinion of others even before their parents,” she comments.

“Grandparents too, apparently,” he agrees. “Edward never had children himself but his wife had a couple before they met; a son, Josh, and daughter, McKynzie. Josh… made poor choices. He died in an accident a little before he would have turned twenty-two. Alanna was McKynzie’s daughter. I just wish I knew if she made it,” he confesses in a pained voice.

Celestia, he can tell, is curious, but clearly feels like she shouldn’t ask. “About eight months before Ed’s death a strain of flu started spreading all over the world. An upper respiratory infection. Cough, fever, aches. The works. It was bad enough it could even cause permanent lung damage.

“It spread like wildfire,” he continues. “On a planet with about seven billion humans,” the number causes a jolt in the princess, her brow once again shooting up in surprise, “it had claimed hundreds of thousands of lives, maybe a million, just in that short span of time.

“Alanna had a fever one day.” He continues despite her soft gasp, “so her daycare wouldn’t let her go there. We watched her so Kynzie could go to work. Within a few days we were both sick too. It took Cyndi first… Ed didn’t make it another day without her.” Celestia quietly climbs off her couch, leans against Cure’s, and pulls him against her chest. Cure takes a deep breath and leans his head over her left shoulder.

The two stay like that for a moment until Celestia finally breaks the silence. “Never doubt that you can talk to me, Cure, but if you do not want to share I will not force it. I know all too well the pain of losing those you care about.” He gives her a small nod as she sets him back down. Rather than return to her couch, she curls up behind him on his, laying half on her left side with his rear under her right foreleg pit.

“Thanks, princess,” he quietly mumbles as he nuzzles into her chest. The pair take a moment to reheat or chill their drinks and polish off the rest of the snacks. Cure legitimately wonders how the princess isn’t humongous; he can just dump excess fat straight into his pouches, but he hasn’t seen her do any physical activity. Perhaps running at a higher temperature means she’s always burning off a bit more, he guesses.

“Alright, so I think there’s only one more potential issue, but I think if Tirek never becomes a problem then this one won’t either. Remember I mentioned the filly or short pegasus?”

“I do. And I have already taken steps to ensure that nopony could possibly get their hooves on the bell.”

“Good. Just a heads-up, I think Discord may have had a hand… claw… whatever in that, so if you haven’t already specifically warded for his brand of trouble then you may wanna.”

“Again, after we spoke I took precautions. That threat should be neutralized.”

“Okay. Just know that in about a hundred years if a diminutive pegasus with a pink coat starts buddying up to somepony important that she may be trouble. I don’t know what her cutie mark will be, but I remember she really plays up the whole naive, innocent act. I think she says golly a lot, but I’m not sure. Even without the bell she’s still somepony to watch out for.”

“As long as she cannot start stealing everypony’s magic then she should not be too much of a threat.”

“Good deal, boss. I think that should be about all of the big ones for Equestria. The Griffon Kingdom will, at some point, collapse when some cyclops… err, one-eyed, huge goat, ram thing steals some idol of theirs. He kinda succeeds but falls into a trench afterwards and dies like a moron.”

“That could only be the Idol of Boreas, but what you described sounds like one of the Arimaspi.”

“Oh. I thought that was his name. So there’s a whole race of them?”

“There is. They are extreme isolationists and live far to the southwest of the Appaloosan Mountains.” She frowns in thought and cocks her head to the side, wondering aloud, “How could one possibly get to Griffonstone? To my knowledge they are somewhat… wild. I struggle to believe one would simply sail across the ocean.”

Cure glances up at the princess unable to offer any suggestion. The Griffon Kingdom is on the opposite side of an ocean, so it does seem a little strange. “Dunno boss, but we could probably get a big ‘ol heap of goodwill if we tipped ‘em off and prevented that catastrophe. That could be happening anytime now; there wasn’t a timeframe given in the show, just that it happened ‘long ago.’ I’m guessing it hasn’t already happened, right?”

“No. We routinely trade with the griffons for a number of metals, particularly iron. Saddle Arabian goods pass through their ports as well. King Guto is… perhaps not a friend, exactly, but not an enemy. I will make arrangements for a missive to be sent to the embassy here in the capital. I don’t know how much trust they will place in such a prophecy, especially with an undefined timeframe, but a warning costs little either way.”

“Okay. Just an FYI, if it does happen I’m pretty confident I could retrieve the thing. I mean… it’s shown to be at the bottom of some windy chasm. It’s not like climbin down there would be hard for me.”

“No, I suppose it would not. If the need arises I will keep that in mind. I may discuss our readiness to render aid with Chancellor Fair Start. Even having options considered before such a tragedy arises could save countless lives.”

“Great idea, princess. That’s the last future event I can think of. Now that I’ve thoroughly dismantled the future timeline, how about we talk tech?”

“How do you mean?”

“Last time I came here I dumped a whole lot on your plate as far as things I could do for pony society with my talent. I supposed this time won’t really be all that different. Edward wasn’t a scientist, but he was an avid reader.”

“Ah, so all the times you said ‘I’ve read about it’ before?”

“Yep. Human technology reached a point where information no longer had to physically travel to be accessible. Like how magic can Send messages, technology could store, retrieve, and display info almost instantly on devices somewhat like that TV.

“It was all shared in a globally interconnected network called the internet. I won’t get into the specifics because it’s not relevant now. Long story short, while I couldn’t build that spaceship that I showed you, I know enough about airplanes to put smart ponies on the path that could eventually lead to it.

“Instead of a hundred and twenty years I could give them enough hints and suggestions that they could figure it out in maybe half that, for example. Magic gives such an absolutely enormous advantage because it lets us skip some of the ‘build the tools to build the tools to build the item’ steps that humanity had to trudge through.”

“You’re proposing that we use your knowledge from humanity to uplift our own society,” she infers.

“Maybe. Slowly. I definitely wouldn’t recommend rushing a whole bunch of societal changes, especially given how stagnated pony society is. There’s also the issue of the far, far lower population numbers, so even with magic involved my estimates may be way off. Education levels were much higher on Earth too.

“I guess I’m suggesting that you consider specific areas of society that could improve and I can give you, usually, a rough idea of how humans achieved it. Maybe not always, but still. I plan on improving the health, telecommunications, and travel sectors of the economy at least. My talent’s so unfair that I can do the first one almost by myself.”

“As Director Storm noted, you already have made a truly astounding difference. In not even a year you’ve casually addressed illness, injury, and fertility issues quite effectively.”

“I can deage ponies, by the way. For real, not just cosmetically. I have enough magic to do it since my ascension.”

Celestia sighs and hangs her head. “Of course.”

“If you have any highly valuable ponies getting on in their years you may want to start planning for that. I can do one every hour or so. More if I only shave a few years off or if they’re younger. My great grandparents are all in their early twenties now.

“I’ve still been doing the cosmetic procedure ‘cause I don’t know how to deal with that so far, but I’ve made sure that all of my customers are healthy, if not actually younger, so there’s no rush there. Age alone does not kill, after all.”

“Last time you were here you said you have ideas on how you may accomplish true age reversal without your direct involvement. Have you made any progress?”

“Kinda, but I’m a little worried about the delivery mechanism. I’d like to get a look at changeling pods and see if I can use a modified version of those. Not just for age reversal, but also for healing.”

“Pods? I don’t know anything about any pods they have.”

“In the show they capture ponies and put them in pods. It makes the pony sleep, basically, but keeps them alive and healthy otherwise. Or, at least, that’s what seems to be happening. If I could get a sample of the solution they’re using I could modify it for whatever application.”

“Interesting.”

“Did you lock them all in a volcano?”

“No? Where did you get that from?”

“One of those alternate timeline things. The story didn’t give details, but supposedly you or your allies caught them trying to take over some cities and ended up imprisoning them all in a volcano.”

“The description is inaccurate, but not wholly incorrect. After the siege of Trot we pursued them to the south. The jungles of Amarezonia slowed us immensely, giving them time to entrench themselves on a small island just a short flight off the coast in the Crystal Sea.

“Though no longer active, several of those islands were formed from underwater volcanoes. With our supply lines stretched to the extreme and the prospect of another extended siege, I, along with every available mage, sealed the island away, not unlike what Sombra did to the Crystal Empire.”

“Shouldn’t they be gone for like… a really long time, then?”

“They should,” she nods. “And I have confirmed that they are still banished.”

“You flew out and checked?”

“No. The dome is visible through my sun.”

“Are you sure you got ‘em all?”

“I can’t be certain, but there have been no signs of any for centuries. It was actually around that same time that diplomatic channels with the hippogriffs dissolved.” A questioning glance from the colt prompts Celestia to explain, “There was a… dispute involving a liaison and the son of their royal family. It escalated rather quickly.”

“What? Did he knock your liaison up or something?”

She cringes before slowly admitting, “It was somewhat more of a scandal than that. The liaison was also a stallion. They did not approve of such relationships, and reacted poorly when the pair were discovered. Unreasonable demands were made and, when I refused them, Queen Skystride expelled all Equestrian ponies from their island.”

“That sounds reasonable,” he snarks. “I propose that, again, once I’ve grown up a bit, we look at checking on whether there’s any changelings that may have escaped the effect. If I can get a look at how their pods work I can hopefully replicate them and adjust them to do more than just put ponies to sleep. What’s the plan for when that island pops back into existence? I’m thinkin they’re gonna be pretty pissed off.”

“Honestly, until you mentioned them at our last meeting I hadn’t even thought of them in… centuries, I suppose. Until there is evidence of their return the plan, as it were, is to continue checking on the island every so often. It is simply too far away from our borders to have Guard units posted, and if the island were to return their only recourse would be to immediately flee.”

“Alright, but I would at least consider having some kind of screening process ready to go for any new arrivals in towns near the border. That way there’s at least a procedure in place for when you notice that island has reappeared.”

Celestia nods in agreement. “That is a reasonable proposal. With them being several hundred years out of touch I’m sure any attempt at infiltration will be quite difficult. I will have a screening process drafted and task researchers at the Assembly with developing a myriad of illusion penetrating spells.”

“You may want to have them plan around the illusion as much as trying to penetrate it. If they’re actually doing some kind of shapeshifting then an illusion breaker may not work. I would ask this not be shared, but the way I suspect I could detect them is by scent. Their breath, their body odor, the absence of pony smells, maybe even the lack of iron in their blood. I doubt they would account for all of that.

“We could also subject them to a medical scan, ask for urine samples, pluck some fur or a piece of their mane, check their weight to ensure it’s in line with whatever tribe somepony presents as, even draw a blood sample if possible. I can’t imagine that their illusion or shifting is perfect. Chances are there’s a difference in skeletal structure or bone density or something.”

“Those are fairly invasive tests, Cure. I think most ponies would object to them on principle.”

“Tough shit. If they’re trying to enter the country and don’t have citizenship paperwork then, if nothing else, it’s appropriate to ensure they’re not carrying some kinda unknown infection or whatever. Even if they do have citizenship paperwork they still have to get through a customs check, I assume. Do we get a lot of ponies showing up unexpectedly at border towns?”

“No. My…” she pauses and lets out a sigh, “My little ponies rarely travel outside of the country. Those that do are required to declare what they are bringing with them so that contraband is stopped at the border. I suppose if there is a valid health concern it is only appropriate to ensure it cannot spread to others. I will discuss this as well, but I am not optimistic given the difficulty of implementing it.”

“Even as a twenty year project it’s still a good idea. I know the port in Baltimare is monitored. If it can be done there it can be done at other borders too.”

“True. I can only assume the governments of Earth had similar procedures?”

“Entire countries were quarantining themselves when Ed died. The pandemic completely destroyed the travel industry. Even before that most countries went to great lengths to know exactly who is coming or going.”

“Interesting. You had mentioned waiting until you are older to begin looking for changelings. Is this a project you would like to be put in charge of?”

“Maybe not put in charge. I’m sure you have smart ponies with experience. I see myself as a… I dunno what the right term is. ‘Asset’ comes to mind, but isn’t exactly right. Either way, I’m a good counter to changelings.

“I’m confident I could detect one even without scanning them, I’m probably physically stronger than one even now, mind control and venoms won’t work on me, and by the time I’m an adult I doubt any but a queen will be more magically powerful. I’m like… their worst nightmare, basically.”

Celestia nods as she considers the argument. Truthfully, the colt will be an absolute terror to anypony he determines is an enemy. Waiting until he’s older and more powerful will also give her time to teach him how to counter Mind Control as well as develop means to deal with attacks like petrification, which are some of the very few weaknesses she can identify.

That the colt is willing and, seemingly, eager to take a more active role in the welfare of the nation is a wonderful sign as well. When he first ascended it certainly seemed like he would be reluctant to help outside of healthcare; something she would have been willing to accept as more than sufficient. This new interest, along with his offer to help uplift ponykind, are worth encouraging.

“I know what you mean, but I would argue that you will be, if anything, their savior. If their curse can be lifted and they can be integrated into society they will, by a wide margin, benefit from your efforts more than anypony. As a prince, a more appropriate role may be as an advisor rather than some kind of combatant.”

“I suppose. You’ve dealt with predatory species enough I’ll trust your judgment. Just in case any are on the loose, have you notified guards to report disappearances and stuff?”

“Immediately after your visit,” she confirms. “Any such reports are to be flagged and sent not only here but also to nearby Forts for regional distribution. We have had a couple come in already, but in most instances it was a misunderstanding and the pony was simply traveling. Guard units have been ordered to more thoroughly investigate unusual behavior that may have previously been dismissed as well.”

“Damn, I’m glad you’re on top of things.”

“I take threats to my lit… damnit!”

Cure can’t help but chuckle at the growl she lets out. “I read ya loud and clear, boss.”

“Good,” she huffs.

“Well… brace yerself boss, ‘cause we ain’t done yet.”

She lets out another sigh. “I suppose I did ask for this.”

“Have you ever met an earth pony that’s much stronger than they should be?”

“Of course,” she responds. Earth ponies are always much stronger than they should be from a purely physical standpoint, as he well knows.

“There’s a good chance that they’re circulating magic through their muscles. Earth ponies can actively use all the same abilities they’re known to express passively. Pegasi already do it with weather manipulation, but earth ponies aren’t any different.”

“This… is from the show?”

“Active magic use was, sort of. It was only shown once that Ed could recall, but he raised an absolute fuss over it when he saw it. Honesty’s bearer used chloromancy to grow a plant right out of the ground. It was a little thing, but Ed remembered that clearly. I showed my parents how to do it, but at the time they had way more magic than me. Remember when I asked you about growin yer magic?”

“I do. I assume both you and your parents are doing so?”

“Uh huh. And all my friends. I gave ‘em all Sending crystals and told them to just Send a message every so often to burn off magic so they’ll grow up with a larger pool to draw from. A few, like Ferric, have shown others how to charge crystals and stuff too. Her boss at her job was payin a unicorn company to come out and charge their Sound Bubble crystals so they don’t get noise complaints. They can’t completely do it themselves yet, but eventually they will.”

“That’s fantastic, Cure!” she gushes, squeezing him tight against her side. “That reminds me, the auctions for your Prince Serpentus toys have been doing very well! You’ll be thrilled to know that the bids for the ones with a genuine feather are up over six hundred bits apiece. I suspect that number will climb sharply with your increased presence in town, not to mention the newspaper articles about how many families you are helping.”

“Sweet! Got any plans for how to use the money to teach earth ponies magic? I have one or two, but I don’t know if they’re possible.”

“I do, but I’m curious about your idea.”

“Lemme ask you this, princess…” he glances up at her and, sensing the seriousness of the question, she turns her head to look down. “Do you know of a way to, when you put Illusion in a crystal, that you can not only put in the spell itself, but also whatever you want it to project?”

The princess furrows her brows and tilts her head up in thought for a moment before realization dawns on her. “Your televisions? Were they used for education as well?”

“Oh yeah, absolutely. Illusion is way, way better than television too. Towards the end of his life humans had found a few ways to display things so that they appeared to be three dimensional, but Illusion can just… do it. It’s crazy that nopony’s done it before.”

“I believe it may be possible, but I would have to think about how it may work.”

“Cool. I have some other ideas I want to look into also. If it’s allowed, some day maybe I’ll offer a large bounty to the students at your school. Ya know, give ‘em an idea like the Illusion one and pay for the formula or something.”

“I…” she pauses in consideration before nodding. “That is a novel approach. There’s no reason it cannot be done as a type of scholarship, I suppose.”

“Awesome. I’ll need to figure out ideas and, once I’m ready, stop at my attorney’s offices and get the paperwork situated with them and the bank. I got a whole bunch of things I would like to see, but I would need to be in the right position to really leverage them.”

“Ideas such as?”

“A way to use Sending to a targeted crystal instead of a specific pony. Then a way to set up another crystal to act as a repeater in case the destination is out of range. A way for a crystal to activate other than directly by a creature, maybe, or a way to interconnect crystals to each other.

“I dunno, I got a million of ‘em, boss, and if there’s a pony out there that can figure stuff like that out I’ll happily hoof ‘em a fat ‘ol sack ‘a bits for the spell diagrams.”

“I am not opposed to it. I would recommend speaking to Principal Brightstar when you’re prepared. You’ll want to set some parameters to prevent formulas that, while functional, are completely unfeasible to use. A ten second Illusion requiring a high tier crystal, for example, would not be very useful.”

“Huh. Good point. I may want to try some things on my own, too. I wonder if I could make a tree that can activate a crystal, for example.”

“How could it possibly do so?”

“Can animals use crystals?”

“Some can,” she confirms, “but only the most highly intelligent ones. If a creature is mentally capable of speech then it should be capable of using a crystal.”

“Really?”

Images of flocks of barely intelligent birds swarming a battlefield, firing bolts of fire, ice, and concussive force flit through the colt’s mind. A hard bite on his left ear pulls him out of his revelry. “What the hay, boss?!” he shouts, looking up to meet her scowling gaze.

“I do not approve of that kind of maniacal laughter out of young colts, Cure. I can’t fathom what you were imagining, but I have no doubt I would not approve.”

He opens his mouth to argue, pauses and tilts his head in consideration, then begrudgingly nods in agreement. “Probably not. Anyhow, if an intelligent animal can use a crystal I may be able to make a plant with only enough brain power to project a stored memory.”

“That… sounds like something I’m not certain you should do.”

“I wouldn’t make something truly intelligent, but maybe there’s a way to have it be close enough to activate a crystal and play a pre-recorded message. I suppose, by the same token, I could just make a biological memory storage device that could convey memories without the Illusion, though. I mean, I’ve already got the template for something similar, I suppose.”

At her worried look he clarifies, “The virus trees. They have a brain-like structure that stores info to produce their medicines. It’s not intelligent at all, but it still can retain memories, of a sort.”

“I see. I suppose such creations would be allowed. Just be careful. The creation of invasive species and concerns regarding their propagation are amongst the many reasons biomanipulation is a restricted field of magic. Never create anything that can reproduce on its own,” she warns.

“I’m well aware of the risks, boss. Humans had stories about such things and the destruction they can cause. That’s why I went with vinegar as a trigger for the Origin Cell Trees; it’s not something they would normally encounter accidentally, so they won’t suddenly start spreading wild. The closest I came were the crops you had them take out of our garden, and those wouldn’t just suddenly spread like weeds or anything.”

“I can’t help but notice that you seem slightly perturbed at that.”

“I was a bit miffed at the time. I still don’t get why nopony just came to the house and talked to us.”

“The standard procedure is to err on the side of caution when dealing with ponies capable of restricted fields of magic; particularly ones whose special talent is the very school of magic. We were confident there was no issue, but we had to be certain before anypony could approach you.

“Before tests could even begin you had already started working with Sgt. Bulwark’s squads and, rather than causing a rift between you and your local guard unit, I assumed the responsibility of informing you myself.”

Cure processes the answer for a moment. It makes sense, but still seems like a dumb way to deal with the situation. “I get you accepting responsibility yourself, but I was already somewhat friends with most of the guards.

“A ‘Hey, just an FYI, we need to check that your plants aren’t going to spread like wildfire’ from Bulwark or Haze would have, if anything, prompted me to solicit official approval even earlier. What ticked me off more than anything is that they were taken and I didn’t even get any input on what was done with them.”

While he did a fairly good job of keeping his tone level, Celestia can easily tell there’s some underlying discontent regarding the event. “I had not anticipated this upsetting you so much,” she confesses. “Ensuring food security is a vital job of the government. The situation was addressed in the same way it normally would be, aside from me taking direct action.”

“Well… a main tenet of the government from my memories is the freedom of the individual. Government stepping in and taking unilateral action without offering any warning is not something most Americans would take kindly to.

“Look,” he says, dismissively waving a hoof while blowing out a sigh, “I’m not upset that it happened given the circumstances. The very principle that somepony could just walk onto our property and take something that wasn’t theirs just didn’t sit right. That I was then told what would happen to that stolen property without asking for input just added fuel to the fire.

“It didn’t take me more than a few minutes to accept that the whole tax rebate was a fair deal, so I obviously didn’t hold a grudge or nothin. I certainly am not angry with you or the guards, especially now. I can tell you that if I’d been payin attention to the garden and noticed the missing seeds, then found out on my own who’d taken ‘em… Well, it may have been the end of my cooperation with the Equestrian government as a whole if there wasn’t a darn good reason.”

Cure feels the princess’s muscles tense at the suggestion. To lose so much over something so trivial clearly was not a potential outcome she had anticipated. “Truly? A few seeds would have been enough to sour any potential relationship?”

“It would have depended on when and how I found out. If it’d happened immediately after being threatened by one of your guards? Maybe. I knew the value of what I could… what I can do. If it looked like your government was going to treat me like that, then take whatever they wanted away from me?” He blows out a sigh while shrugging. “I dunno. I knew I could go anywhere on the planet, more or less, and end up rich. If somepony was just going to take my stuff here then why would I stick around?”

“Safety? Security? Your family’s well-being? Your friends?”

He looks up to meet her eyes. In a genuinely curious tone he asks, “Do you really think I couldn’t keep my family safe? There were only four creatures on the planet that I considered potential threats at the time. One’s a lawn ornament, another is banished in the frozen north, and number three, assuming she’s even out there, could probably be made an ally or otherwise neutralized pretty easily as long as she didn’t catch me completely unprepared.

“As for my family’s well-being, I figured if I left and ingratiated myself with whatever country’s leadership I ended up in that we would be set and you wouldn’t risk war just to bring me home. Knowing what I can do, how thrilled would the griffons or the Saddle Arabians have been for me to show up asking to immigrate?”

“Exceedingly,” she concedes.

“And I knew that.” He halfheartedly shrugs and continues, “I’m a lot closer to most of my friends now than I was back in November, too. Leaving would have hurt, but I could have made new friends wherever I ended up.

“Ultimately it doesn’t matter. It all worked out for the best either way. If, maker forbid, another human ever shows up on the planet just let me deal with ‘em. They can be a prickly bunch and I certainly inherited that from Ed.”

Sensing her continued unease, Cure leans over to nuzzle into her chest again. “Really, boss, I’m glad it worked out like it did. You didn’t really have any way of knowing you weren’t dealing with a typical foal. There would be no reason to assume one of your little ponies would have such a strong opinion on property rights and an aversion to, what I viewed at the time, an overreach of government. It’s water under the bridge, I promise.”

“I’m relieved to hear. Still… to think that such a small thing could have led to such a potentially disastrous outcome. Perhaps it would be wise to spend more time considering options before acting should the situation come up again.”

“It couldn’t hurt.”

Celestia takes a deep breath, blowing it out slowly. The two take a moment to think; Cure considers what topic to bring up next while Celestia quells her worry with the knowledge that everything did indeed work out well. The colt had told her at dinner on his last visit that he considered loyalty far and away the most important tenet of Harmony. Not only that, but he also intrinsically links loyalty and honesty as almost a single value.

It’s little wonder, then, that the feeling of betrayal could have driven a wedge between the two of them before any friendship had the opportunity to develop. The thought of a foreign government having access to all the things he can do sends a shiver down her spine, especially in light of all the memories and capabilities he has that none could have ever possibly predicted. That Equestria may have lost out on so much over so little is a frightening prospect.

“Cutie marks can be used as magical foci for the activation of special talents, which appear to be powerful spells or repositories of knowledge accessed by directing magic through them like a unicorn does their horn.”

It takes a good five seconds for everything the colt had spouted out to register. “What?!”

He looks up to her and begins, “Cutie marks. They’re a physical manifestation of a pony’s special talent, right?”

“They are.”

“So they’re essentially linked to our metaphysical side.”

“I… suppose.”

“If you direct magic through them you can actively use special talents. At least, that’s what we’ve figured out so far. My sire gets a gut feeling helping him find the perfect house for ponies. My dam can grow food crops way better than others. Lemon knows exactly how to make stuff in her kitchen literally perfectly every time, Amethyst can divine the value of an object, and Title, I suspect, can find whatever information she’s looking for if she has a good enough starting point.

“The list goes on, boss. You know I can mess with biology. Ferric is either a god of war or of the forge with a hammer in her hooves. I bet you can much more easily control the sun. You do it with a spell right now, right?”

“Of course, that’s how my sister and I were taught to move the celestial bodies.”

“Yeah well, supercharge them flanks and I bet you can at least move the sun without nearly as much effort. You may need the spell for the moon, but I guess you’ll figure that out tonight.”

Rather than react strongly to the shattering of her worldview, Celestia simply sighs again. “This has been far more exhausting than I had anticipated.”

“Yeah, I’m kinda pooped too.”

“What’s one more huge reveal?” she tiredly asks.

“Dunno, boss. I think that’s about the last big one I can toss out there. I’m sure I’ll think of other smaller things eventually. How ya holdin up?”

Rather than respond verbally, Celestia rolls to her left to flop on her side. Cure lets himself be dragged along, content to snuggle against her chest between her forelegs. Her peytral is in the way a little, so he scoots up until it’s just below his withers.

He takes a moment to simply enjoy being held. His snout brushes gently against her neck, taking in the refreshing scent of her fur. “It’s gettin to be about that time, huh?”

She gives a shallow nod against him and confirms, “In about half an hour.”

“I think you can power down the wards. Unless you have something to share, that is.”

“I think I’m shared out at the moment,” she replies. Cure can feel a change in the air as she stops her spell. A faint tingle he could feel recedes, leaving behind nothing but stillness.

“I’ve dropped a lot on your withers again,” he begins, pausing only a second at her scoff, “but keep in mind that even without the foreknowledge, without whatever advances I can help with, and without any other change I make,” he twists to nuzzle his cheek against her neck, “you still win, princess.”

“Thank you, Cure. I have always believed things would work out. To not have to rely on faith alone… I can’t begin to tell you what a relief it is.”

“Sure thing. I mean, I live here too, so, ya know… can’t be lettin douchebags trounce around wreckin stuff.”

She carries on despite his modest deflection. “You’re doing a great service for both myself as well as the nation. If there is ever anything you would like, you know you can ask, right?”

“You’re giving me a crown, boss. I think I’m being fairly compensated.”

“Oh please, you made your lack of interest in the title quite apparent. Besides, you earned the crown with your ascension. I have given you nothing you are not owed. Technically, I haven’t given you anything at all, yet.”

“Crystals. You replaced the ones I blew up.” He feels her roll her eyes even without seeing them. “Fine, if I think of something I’ll let ya know. I’ll probably have to hang on to any favors for when I’m forced to hurt yer nobles anyhow. Merryland already all but suggested you faked my ascension for some reason.”

“He is not the only one,” she responds. “Word is that I’m weakening the nobility by inserting a pretender in a position above them. One with a powerful talent, yet young and starstruck, thus malleable to my whims.”

“Why? Not powerful enough by yourself? What’s the point?”

“They see elevating somepony else as lowering them. Worry not, there is nothing they can do.”

“Well just a heads up; if they do something funky to my family or treat them like dirt I’m going to be absolutely pissed.”

“As will I. That doesn’t really count as a favor, though.”

“Hmm. Okay. I’ll tell ya what,” he says as he rolls to his hooves. He scoots up to sit in the crook of her long neck and looks into her right eye. “At some point I,” he says, cocking a hoof at himself, “will cook a delicious dinner for you,” emphasized with a gentle cheek poke.

“It will have a variety of meat-flavored plants along with some things I know you’ll like. I only ask that you taste a few things, give me honest feedback, and afterwards I’ll tell you what the flavor is derived from. How’s that sound?”

“I… don’t know if I like this idea.”

“Why not? Nocreature gets hurt and I get to test a variety of plants I may end up selling to griffons or dragons some day. None of them will be pony or something, I mean… come on,” he rolls his eyes, “Gettin a buncha predatory species hooked on ‘me’ flavor sounds like a dumb idea all around.”

She tilts her head up to face him and asks, “You intend to sell meat-producing plants to other nations?”

“Again, why not? Humans guilted the fudge out of each other and we had tons of non-sapient choices to pick from. I can’t imagine how much it sucks to be an omnivore on this planet. Having stable, healthy, ethically-sourced food options that meet their carnivorous halves’ needs should help immensely. Not to mention be wildly profitable.”

“I… suppose there’s no harm in it,” she admits “Very well,” she sighs as she lays back down.

“Oh come on now, don’t be like that. If there’s anything you don’t like, even the smell of, I won’t insist you try it. You may find you really like something. Besides, I hear a certain somepony has a bit of a phobia regarding a variety of fowl that I happen to have hundreds of recipes for.”

Celestia doesn’t even need to look back to know the colt is smirking. “I don’t know what you could possibly be referring to,” she lies horribly.

“No way! It’s true?!”

“Of course not,” is her less than convincing response.

Chuckling evilly, he pokes her jaw with his snout and asks, “Celestia Sol, one of the most powerful creatures on the planet… is afraid of chickens?!” He catches movement behind him; his thermal sense tells him the mare subconsciously tucking her legs closer to her barrel.

Her right wing lifts slightly off her side as she attempts to deny the accusation. “No! Of course not!” she says in a tone that wouldn’t convince anypony. Her face contorts in an ugly rictus, heatedly exclaiming, “They’re just… disgusting little creatures! Ugh, the smell from their coops alone!”

“They shouldn’t smell that bad unless they’re not getting cleaned enough.”

“You’ve been around chickens?”

“No… memories, again. I guess with pony senses it could be worse. Humans’ sense of smell is pretty weak. Still, it’s bizarre that that is true.”

She lifts her head to regard the colt and asks, “What other secrets of mine do you know, Cure?”

“I dunno. Like I said, alternate timelines and such. The chicken thing was more of a joke. If I think of anything else I’ll ask, but I can’t think of anything else offhoof that wasn’t in your book.”

“Wonderful,” she flatly comments as she flops down. “I can’t wait.”

A few moments of silence stretch between the pair. Celestia feels him fidget while he turns to look around the room as if he’s searching for the next topic of discussion. Finally, he noses at her again and in a softer voice than she’s become accustomed to asks, “Would you be okay if I come with you when you raise the moon? I… don’t usually spend a lot of time alone and, well…” he trails off.

It occurs to her that, despite his typically confident demeanor, he is still physically a young colt; one who has no shortage of painful memories. It is no wonder his talent, not to mention his likely domain, are anathema to the very concept of death. “Of course you can,” she assures him. “I would be thrilled for you to join me, Cure.” She rolls to her barrel and nuzzles just behind his horn. “How about we send your parents a message, take a relaxing walk in the garden, test your cutie mark theory, raise my sister’s moon, and get you cleaned up for bed?”

A bright smile and eager nod are all the answers she needs.

Author's Note

So I did the best I could to proofread this on a mobile device. I do not currently have access to my PC and won't until tomorrow or later, so apologies if this has a few more errors than my chapters usually do.

Editing an 18k word chapter on a mobile device is not fun.

Oh well, enjoy everyone. Thanks for reading!

Chapter 77: Day on the Town

Friday, June 12th, 909 AB (4 days later)
Mid-morning

Celestia takes a dainty sip of her tea and regards the pegasus on her right. “Are you sure you don’t mind, lieutenant?”

Opposite the purple mare, the colt grumbles as he spears a slice of pear with his fork. “Yer makin it sound like foalsittin me’s a downright chore.” He taps a hoof on his chest insisting, “I’m delightful ta be around!”

Neither mare deigns even look in his direction, further frustrating him.

“Of course not, your majesty. It’ll be a nice break compared to the last few days.” She gives the princess an adorable pout and whines, “Unlike somepony, I didn’t get to snuggle with all the little ones.”

“Dunno why you’d want to. Babies are gross. You know where those things were just before,” he mumbles, wrinkling his snout in disgust.

“Royal privilege!” is her immediate reply overtop his crass remark as she thrusts her hoof in the air. “If you’d like, we could always trade duties for today. I’m sure you would greatly enjoy the council meeting, after all, and I wouldn’t mind keeping an eye on him. Too much, that is.”

The mare fails to suppress a shudder at the offer. “Hrm. Tempting, but I guess I’ll take him.”

“Still sittin right here, ya know?”

Both mares glance at the colt, share a look, and go back to their conversation. He huffs in annoyance, floats an apple over, nearly dislocates his jaw, and eats it in two bites, core and all.

“Very well, Lieutenant Spear. I wish you good luck today. I suspect you’ll need it more than I.” She turns to the openly scowling colt and continues while poking his side with a wingtip, “And you, young colt. Do try to behave yourself for the lieutenant.”

Cure lets out an indignant squawk and holds his forelegs out wide as he looks between the two. “What the hay?! I always behave!”

“Thank you, your highness. I’ll be sure to let you know if he’s good or not.”

“Y’all are a riot. Whatever,” he grouses, changing his coat and mane to the light purple, golden-maned appearance of the mare. “When do ya wanna head out, mom?”

“That’s weird,” she comments. “I don’t see many colts with a purple coat.”

“Yeah I’ve noticed that too,” he agrees. “That and pink are really common for mares but I don’t think I have ever seen a single pink stallion either. Not a single colt I’ve delivered was either color, though one had a dark purple mane.”

“It is uncommon, but not unheard of,” Celestia explains. “I believe the magic of the world, or perhaps Harmony, plays a part. I know of a few stallions that were born with coats you would typically associate with mares. Most had their colors magically altered, much like the service you offer.”

“Huh.” He inspects his foreleg and shrugs. “I dunno, it is a pretty color. I don’t exactly see anypony giving me crap over it, but that’s more ‘cause ‘a my bulk than anything.”

Lt. Spear nods in agreement, looking over the muscular colt. “Without the horn anypony would assume your sire is an earth pony. You’re way too wide for a normal pegasus.”

“Yeah, trimming down some is something I’m gonna work on as I grow. Imagine me with this frame a hoof taller than the princess,” he says, tilting his head at the mare in question.

“You showed us with the suit,” she points out. “It was honestly a little intimidating. Especially with talons.”

Celestia, for her part, doesn’t comment; merely staring ahead with an indifferent look on her face. It doesn’t escape Cure’s notice that the temperature of her cheeks went up a tiny amount for a moment, but that may be because she’d taken a sip of her nearly boiling tea.

“You ready to head out?” he asks.

“Sure. Do you want to fly? I can have the sergeant send a carriage to the shopping district in about an hour.”

“Awesome!” He hops down off his booster, trots over to the princess, rears up, and wraps her left side in a foreleg and wing hug. “Good luck, princess,” he says, nuzzling into her chest.

“Thank you, Cure,” she quietly replies, squeezing him with her foreleg. “Go have fun today. You’ve certainly earned a break. And try not to give the lieutenant too hard of a time.”

“No promises!” he says, squeezing her again before the two separate. Lt. Spear and the princess exchange farewells as the pair make their way out.

For however long he may live, Cure is certain there will never be a point where shooting through the sky will ever be anything but awesome. The power and endurance of an earth pony make him feel like some kind of war god; the magic of a unicorn, while limited at his age, is flexible and varied.

The pure, unadulterated freedom of the wind, the feeling of his broad wings slicing through the air, and the escape from the gravity of the world; pegasi have no idea how good they have it. The colt struggles not to giggle whenever he takes to the air.

After grabbing some bags and suiting up, the pair take off from the southwest side of the castle and execute a dive to gain speed, shooting down the mountain towards Ponyville. After a couple hundred meters the lieutenant pulls up, keeping an eye on the colt until she sees him matching her maneuver. They shoot up just a little north of the moored Cloudsdale hospital, then circle east towards the northwest shopping district, keeping slightly under Cloudsdale’s floor.

The pair of purple pegasi come in for a landing just beside the fountain in the northwest shopping district and start making their way to his first stop of the day; Tinkerer’s Treasure, a hobby shop that the princess suggested when he mentioned wanting to buy some crystals.

The shop, like many in the mountain city, has its door held open to allow the cool Canterlot air to circulate into the store. Excitement getting the better of him, he prances eagerly through the door, hopeful to find at least a few good deals. Dutiful as always, Gliding Spear follows behind him smiling broadly at his foalish glee.

With a sniff of the air Cure picks out the scent of ink and parchment, making a beeline towards the enchanting section of the store. He glances back at his minder when he hears her let out a small giggle and shoots the mare a curious look.

“It’s nothing,” she initially demures.

“What?” he asks with a hint of insistence, barely slowing his trot as he continues on his path.

Huffing out a sigh, she explains, “It was cute. You’re normally super serious compared to most foals.” She shrugs her wings. “Tartarus, even compared to a lot of adults. Your smile when you were flying; I’ve only seen you look genuinely excited a few times. It was nice.”

“Flying is amazing,” he happily chirps. “I always dreamed of being able to fly. Not just for practical reasons, though that’s a huge plus. The sights, the speed, that adrenaline high you get… I just can’t get enough of it.

“Again, though, the ability to get from home to literally anywhere in Baltimare inside of fifteen minutes is super convenient. An hour by hoof and rail or fifteen minutes by wing. I mean, come on!”

Spear scrunches her snout as she nods. “That’s really unusual for an earth pony. Most I know get a little anxious once they’re more than a couple meters above solid ground. They really don’t like the sky carriages. That aside, I genuinely don’t know how others get by. I would lose my mind going everywhere by hoof.”

“Slowly,” he answers as he approaches his desired section, “but I have some ideas to address that.” As he expected, the more expensive stuff is locked up, so after looking over the offered supplies and not finding anything particularly interesting he makes his way to the counter. On display inside of a glass case are the crystals of tiers mid-low and higher along with several enchanted products.

Quills of Transcription are ten thousand bits each and, try as he might, Cure can’t think of anypony that would benefit enough from one. The description of the item thoroughly impresses the colt, and if they were half the price he would be getting one as much for the novelty as the convenience.

Each quill comes in a hoofcarved, elegant box that includes instructions for setup, a smaller travel carry case, and the golden earclip that makes the whole thing function. Something that never occurred to him when he pictured such a device is how exactly a transcribing pen would work. He’d always imagined speaking aloud and, somehow, the writing instrument would just magically know what to do.

The reality is that there are a hundred variables that are done automatically when somepony writes. Where to write, what style, print size, where the ink supply is, how low the ink level is, and how much ink to gather are just a few of the things that immediately come to mind, mostly thanks only to Ed’s experience trying to get his phone to do a decent job transcribing text messages.

Somehow, nearly all of those functions are transmitted from the earclip to the quill by the user’s will. It doesn’t require that the user even speak aloud, which would probably be really annoying in most environments.

As tempted as he is to get one for his parents, none of them do an excessive amount of writing. His mind refuses to consider just how Drift would probably show her appreciation for such a thing, but ten grand is too much to spend on the girls at this point. He considers that it would, in a way, be a wonderful gift for the princess, but there are at least a few issues with that idea.

First and foremost, it’s a somewhat significant gift; far larger, price-wise, than anything he’s given to any of the girls that are both his age and, objectively, closer to him. Second, while neat, it doesn’t do anything that a horn doesn’t already do, so it just wouldn’t have much of an impact for her. Finally, he would just about bet his horn she either has a hundred of the things already, or more likely, the ability to make one herself with little effort.

A few lesser knickknacks are also offered; eternal lights in a variety of styles from candles to lanterns to peytral, hat, or helmet-mounted versions. Old fashioned ear-horn looking devices that work like parabolic microphones and can listen to a pony from dozens of meters away, even if they are rather conspicuous in their appearance. A legitimate sound amplifier amulet that presumably works like the device the rodeo announcer had is available for a grand.

“What kind of ideas?”

The lieutenant’s question draws him back out of his thoughts as he turns from the case to look curiously at his temporary guardian. “Huh?”

“For unicorns and earth ponies to get around?”

“Oh! Yeah, maybe like some kinda teleportation grid, along with some ideas of different land-based vehicles, both for individuals and groups. I have a few larger, longer range flight ideas too, but those are more for inter-city travel. Maybe even a gondola lift of some kind up the mountain, but that’s a ways out.”

Cure goes back to looking in the case while Spear stares in incomprehension at the bizarre colt. On one wing, he is just a colt not even nine years old. On the other, he’s not even nine and is an alicorn that’s already pulled several amazing things out of seemingly nowhere. It only takes another two seconds of thought for her to mentally shrug and accept that, in all likelihood, the foal isn’t just blowing smoke, even if she doesn’t know how he would get a boat to go up a mountain.

“Excuse me, ma’am?” he calls, raising a tall wing and waving it in the air. The attendant, an older, deep red unicorn mare, makes her way over with a frown.

Barely making a token effort to hide her annoyance, she looks over the display counter and gruffly asks, “What do you want?”

Apparently dismissing the rudeness, Cure rattles off his order; a small selection, but one that makes Spear’s bit pouch want to cry. “Four mid-high crystals, five mids, four of those compressed bit pouches,” he pauses and looks at the lieutenant, then amends, “make that five, and I’m curious about that sound amp necklace. If you’re wearin that thing does it work on musical instruments or do you need to get one specifically made for that?”

The attendant gives the colt an exasperated stare for a moment then turns to Lt. Spear. “Get your colt under control or get out of here. I have a store to run, not a daycare.”

“Oh hey, I got a suggestion instead,” Cure speaks up before Spear can reply. He rears up to lean his forehooves on the top of the counter and starts reaching back into his mane. “Forget the sound amp,” he says as he starts stacking thousand bit coins on the counter five at a time, “and knock about ten percent off the total for being a rude prick.

“Instead of just flat out leaving and tellin everypony how you talk to customers you’ll still get a big sale today, even if I’ll never be back in my entire life. How’s that sound?” he asks as he sets the last of seven stacks of five on the counter and gives the mare an angry glare.

Cure isn’t sure what the mark-up on crystals is, but he’s confident it’s well over ten percent, at least on the bigger ones. She may be taking a loss on the mids, but the mid-highs are over seven times the price (five thousand bits compared to seven hundred) for approximately two and a half times the capacity. If her profit is cut from thirty or forty percent down to twenty-five percent then maybe she won’t talk funky to the next potential customer.

Gliding Spear winces at the curt admonishment. The mare stares a long moment at the stacks of bits, then floats one up to inspect it. She sets it on a small white stone that turns green, then does the same with another. Satisfied the bits are legitimate, she grimaces and looks between the two apparent pegasi while Cure meets her eyes with an unflinching stare as he awaits her response.

Catching the mare’s eye, Spear gives the colt a quick side-eye, looks back to the shopkeeper, and does her best to convey that it’s probably not the worst of the two options. The colt doesn’t take well to ponies disrespecting him, as she saw with his “snake” display with the captain. He probably wouldn’t have to do anything more than tell a few ponies the absolute truth about his visit to the shop for it to cost them more than a few thousand bits worth of business.

Glancing back and forth between the pair, the mare gives Cure an ugly scowl, nearly shaking in anger. “Get out!” she shouts, pointing a hoof at the door.

The colt shrugs and bobs his head in a nod, then looks over his withers. “You ready to head out, lieutenant?”

When Spear turns to respond to the colt she sees his horn is suddenly on full display. “Uhh... sure, your highness.”

“Great!” he cheers, backing away and lowering himself from the case. He faces the pale, gawking shopkeeper and gives her a nod while floating the stacks of bits back into his mane. “Take care,” he calls as he makes his way to the exit.

Spear hesitates following a second to look back at the terrified mare. “I’ll talk to him,” she quietly tells her. A small, almost automatic nod of acknowledgement is her only answer. She hurries to catch up, finding the colt waiting for her just outside. Unsurprisingly, his horn is no longer visible again. “While I understand your frustration, that may have been a little too harsh, Cure,” she gently scolds.

“Maybe,” he agrees, lightly nodding. “And, yet, at the same time I was there to spend an absolutely ridiculous amount of money. That place probably sells a hooffull of that stuff a month and there I was to drop a normal pony’s annual salary. Or more.” He waves his wing back at the door as he continues, “I bet that’s a decent chunk of their total sales for the week. All she had to do was talk to me like she should to any customer.”

Blowing out a deep sigh, Spear can’t help but acknowledge his point. “You’re not wrong, but you’re also a foal who was asking for stuff no foal would normally be able to afford and a pegasus usually wouldn’t care about. Maybe next time let me talk to the shopkeeper? You don’t want everypony talking about the new prince trying to abuse his position to get discounts.”

“That’s not what happened at all!” he growls quietly enough to not draw attention from passing ponies. “I didn’t even bust it,” he inclines his head and flicks his eyes up, “out ‘till after she said ta get lost!”

“I know!” she hisses. She takes a deep breath and, more calmly, repeats herself. “I know. But how will it look, hmm? What will ponies believe if she spins it that way?”

He huffs in annoyance and kicks idly at the ground before giving her a begrudging nod. “Yeah. Yeah, alright. I have my doubts she’ll tell anypony anything at all, but I could see that.” He looks around idly, grimacing as the thought of the princess scolding him crosses his mind, even if he still feels like he didn’t do anything wrong.

“Fine, I’ll let you take point from now on.” He blows out another sigh and glances to the lieutenant before smirking. A quick step closer and he leans against her side, unexpectedly nuzzling up under her chin, and asks, “So, ma, know anywhere else that sells that stuff? There was a hobby store we stopped at last year once, but I’m not sure if they had the bit pouches too.”

She blows out a deep sigh and returns the nuzzle. As sweet as the colt can be sometimes, deep down, all the way into the marrow of her bones, Lt. Gliding Spear can feel that today is going to be a long day.

Unsurprisingly, there were more than a few stores that sold either or both the crystals and the compressed bit pouches. The latter store had a wide variety in stock in addition to their more mundane offerings. Given his still somewhat smaller frame compared to an adult, Cure opted to stick with his original plan and bought four more for himself, then a fifth for the lieutenant. The mare quietly accepted the gift, even if he could tell she was unsure about doing so. She probably knew he would insist and opted to skip the ensuing argument and make a scene; a wise choice in his opinion.

Cure is somewhat disappointed that their fourth stop, an appliance store, didn’t have anything new and awesome for sale. There are a few appliances they lack such as a stand mixer, blender, or a can opener, but he can’t imagine his dam or moms using those much at home. Lemon already has a commercial grade, hoof-cranked mixer in her kitchen at work. He’d shown her how to use the Spin cantrip on it via a crystal which gives it way more flexibility with programmable speed, duration, and direction.

As for the can opener there are few enough canned products available that the purchase isn’t worthwhile. There are some soups and sauces available in tin cans nowadays, but with a garden out back and the combined talents of Cure and his dam there’s just too little use for canned products.

Even if they used cans often he had found a few good cutting spells when he’d spent time with Celestia before. A low tier crystal for only fifteen bits is not only slightly cheaper than a nice automatic can opener, it’ll never stop working and is a hell of a lot more fun to use.

Though he wouldn’t have any need for it, he had kind of been hoping to see some kind of magical Roomba or, at least, an enchanted broom and dustpan. Maybe even a mop since all but their bedrooms have hardwood floors. Instead, everything was relatively mundane compared to what one would expect in a fantasy world. When so many washing and cleaning apparati can be cheaply replaced by a single crystal there’s just no need for dishwashers, vacuums, washing machines, or dryers.

Done looking around, Cure leans against Spear and asks, “See anything you need in here?”

“Not really. And you’re not buying me anything else!” she insists, bumping his shoulder. “I still can’t believe you bought me that bit pouch,” she quietly admonishes. “You shouldn’t be spending money on ponies like that.”

Cure shrugs as he makes his way out the door, Spear just a step behind him. He turns left to head down the street to a toy store as he continues, “Don’t think too deeply about it, lieutenant. It’s a gift. A way for me to show my appreciation for all you’ve done.

“You arrested that prick Green Slip, found the real culprits, found the three imposter guards and my trees, you’ve been nice every time I’ve interacted with ya, and now yer spending the day foalsittin me instead of makin somepony else do it. I know you don’t mind,” he rushes to say when she opens her mouth, “but I appreciate it. I don’t know how much you know, but I make lots of money.”

“Obviously,” she scoffs.

“Right, but ya know… what good is a pile of bits in the bank compared to showin somepony you appreciate what they do? Stuff like that,” he jerks his head back towards her small saddlebag, “that’s just the kinda stuff I do for my friends.”

“Well…” she slowly says, “I do appreciate it. Everypony was super jealous of my suit, too.” She giggles softly and adds, “You should have seen my husband try to put it on. He managed, sort of, but it looked incredibly uncomfortable. Getting it off of him took a lot of work.”

Cure winces in sympathy. “I would think it would’ve been really uncomfortable in… uhh… places.”

The pegasus guffaws at the observation, laughing as she nods. “His voice went up an octave or two.”

“I bet. The princess and I talked about having a health fair for her officers and their families in a month or two. Maybe ya ought ‘a bring everypony by and I can scan ‘em for their sizes and, who knows, maybe they can look forward to something special for Hearth’s Warming.”

“I just said -” she starts before he interrupts her.

“The suits hardly cost me anything to make. I actually made a bunch for my friends to sell back home before I left. Here,” he waves off to the side, “watch.” The two move out of the way of passing ponies and stand by the side of the street between a few stores and mostly out of sight.

Cure makes a show of reaching back under his wing and, using a scan of the lieutenant, quickly assembles a second suit for her, then another that’s about a half hoof taller and slightly larger with the extra ‘male support’ additions.

Without knowing the coat color of her family, Cure opts to go with a slightly off-white cream color. It goes with most other colors and isn’t so glossy that it’s hard to look at in bright sunlight. The mare watches in awe as he pulls first one, then another out from seemingly nowhere.

“Quit lookin at me like I’m doin somethin amazing,” he whispers, rolling his eyes. “You’ve seen me do crap that makes this look like nothin.”

Spear lets out a sigh and nods in acknowledgement. “True… true. Sorry, it’s still kind of crazy to see.”

“Nothin compared to my big suit,” he points out, getting another nod. “Anyhow, these aren’t all nice and enchanted like yers is. It’ll get ‘em by ‘till December, though.”

“I’m sure they’ll appreciate it either way. Thank you, Cure.”

“No biggie, just tuck those in your bag or even in the bit pouch and let’s go. I wanna see if there’s anything neat in the toy store. I’d like to get something like what the princess had me workin on the other night for myself and Dawn.”

“What’d she have you doing?”

Cure scrunches his snout, thinking best how to describe the activity the princess had him working on. “Ehh, I guess the best way to describe it is like… an obstacle course game kinda thing?”

“For… unicorns?”

He nods as they enter the store, the two of them barely slipping by several other parents and foals coming and going. An older filly working as a greeter points them to the aisle with horn practice toys.

As the two start walking that direction Cure, between one aisle and the next, blends his wings in, absorbs his flight suit, and pops his horn out as he continues his explanation. The quick tribe swap gets a blink out of the mare but she figures this is just his normal. The fake cutie mark, a stylized question mark, causes a double-take, but after a split second of thinking it over, it seems perfect given the circumstances.

“Yeah, so I’m not doing the best job explaining it, but imagine a huge box, right?” She shrugs and nods. “The front is open and inside it are a bunch of wires with small plates that X-shaped holes in ‘em. So you have the X-shaped pieces that fit through those holes and you gotta float the shapes around the course and thread ‘em through the holes on a color coded circuit.”

“I’m not sure what it’s like to have a horn but that sounds challenging.”

“Doing one piece at a time isn’t too bad. I could do that, even if I was kinda slow rotating them just right. It’s doing multiple pieces at the same time that’s more challenging. Especially when they’re moving in different directions and you still gotta rotate them in different orientations to fit through the obstacles. Really the whole thing reminds me of a variant of the shape box toy I made for my baby sister, just very different, I guess. I may eventually make my own, but for now, meh,” he says with a shrug.

“Levitation itself is pretty easy, but keeping the force wrapped around a small object like that without it spreading and gettin stuck when you get to a hole is a pain. Doing so while rotating the piece and moving it in three dimensions is that much worse. It’s definitely something I need to work on. Keeping the levitation bubble tight and only using it on specific parts of an item are things I’ve not really practiced.”

Truthfully, even doing one piece at a time was a challenge. Cure had always visualized a spherical ball of force wrapping around smaller objects. Much like a hand, it’s not difficult to “grab” a larger object, but smaller targets are easier to pick up in the telekinetic version of a closed fist. The exercise earlier in the week forced him to instead pinch the piece between two “fingers” of force, the edges of which would catch on the obstacles when his concentration slipped.

Conversation pauses as they round the corner to the aisle. It only takes a few seconds to find a variety of kits for different sized courses. The largest come in heavy cases that fold out and are about the size of his entire body while standing. He floats a couple of them down and sets them by his side as he continues, “Of course the boss lady had’ta show off. The pieces come in different sizes, bigger pieces being harder ‘cause ya gotta hit the hole just right with less room for the TK bubble.

“She made two dozen of the bigges ones float through the friggin contraption like it was nothin. They might as well’a had a mind if their own the way they were moving. I mean, on one hoof it was kinda mesmerizing ta watch, but talk about feelin inadequate,” he finishes with a scoff.

“She does have a slight advantage…”

“Just a tiny one. She’s only had a horn about two thousand times as long as I have. Whatever,” he dismissively shrugs, “I’ll get there eventually. Hopefully in well under eighteen hundred years.”

He takes a moment to look over other “educational” toys available and is surprised to find horn training accessories. A closer inspection shows them to be sleeves that fit over a foal’s horn. “I had no idea such a thing existed,” he comments.

The sleeves have a variety of uses; some say they dampen vibration to provide resistance, in theory forcing the muscles to work harder to vibrate. Others allegedly vibrate in patterns that stimulate what a horn does, teaching a foal to play back notes to get accustomed to the “feel” of each rune.

“Me neither,” she says, “but I’ve never had a reason to look into it. I wonder if they work.”

“They do,” a nearby customer cuts in in answer. Cure and the lieutenant both turn to face the mare that just walked into the aisle, an off-white unicorn with a curly deep red mane. A filly around Cure’s age, almost an exact copy of her dam with a slightly lighter mane, is nodding in agreement right by her side. “All three of my daughters initially struggled with runes associated with this,” she points a hoof at the upper front right part of her horn, “area in particular.

“A little practice a few times per week and they built the muscles up enough that, within just a year they were able to activate them with near perfect resonance.” She turns to Spear and continues, “If your son is struggling with any runes or just becomes fatigued too quickly I highly recommend them,” she finishes with an affirming nod. The mare furrows her brow as she notices that a unicorn colt and pegasus mare have identical coats and manes, but apparently decides asking how that happened would be inappropriate.

“I do the alphabet twenty times a night with the resistance band!” the filly proudly declares. “I used to get tired after only three or four.”

Cure is honestly unsure if that’s fantastic or just normal. Never having done much with a normal horn, he can only assume that twenty, especially with whatever resistance the sleeve tacks on, is pretty good. Foals their age wouldn’t normally cast more than a few spells before their magic would be running low, so there’s little reason for a horn to have to go through that many runes until they’re older.

“That’s amazing, but twenty sounds like a lot,” he comments. “I don’t know how many is normal, but can’t you strain your horn by overdoing it at our age?”

The mare speaks up before her daughter can. “Twenty is safe, but that’s all she’s allowed to do until she’s older. Do you not practice, yourself?”

“I’ve never really needed to worry about endurance.” Given his stature, the mare seems to accept that easily enough. He can almost see the gears turning in her head when his distinctly earth pony build is pointed out, but he carries on regardless. “I found out the other day that my levitation dexterity isn’t where it needs to be, though,” he tilts his head to the boxes, “so I figured I should get a set for me and my unicorn fillyfriend back home.”

“Oh? You’re in town for the coronation?”

He smiles broadly and nods. “For the most part, yep. I may stick around a day or two after, but then I’ll be headed back home to Baltimare.”

The “I” gets a furrowed brow as the mare looks between the colt and his guardian. The strange response and lack of a correction from Lt. Spear seems to throw her off even worse as she tries to piece together exactly what is going on here. The quiet sigh that escapes the lieutenant doesn’t escape Cure’s notice, and he can’t help but shake slightly in a quiet laugh at both mares’ reactions.

“Well thanks for the heads up about the therapy sleeves,” he calls, lifting both boxes onto his back despite their size and weight, “I’ll keep ‘em in mind in case I run into anypony that would benefit. We have a few more places to hit before lunch. It was a pleasure,” he adds, ducking his head in a shallow nod as he starts towards the cashier. Calling back to the filly, he says, “Maybe I’ll see ya again next year when I’m back for school. Take care!”

At Cure’s insistence they make a quick trip to a bakery to buy some snacks for themselves and his guards, then drop off his purchases in the waiting carriage. Spear argued it was unnecessary, but Cure figures standing around a busy shopping street watching a parked carriage all morning is boring, and a small thanks, necessity aside, doesn’t hurt anypony.

He knows he tends to spoil ponies around him, but he’d rather splurge and spend a few bits on the off chance it’ll win over somepony that would have otherwise been only interested in doing their duty. Loyalty, he knows, isn’t freely given, and he’d rather have the ponies that’ll be keeping his family safe think of him as a kind, generous, friendly foal they actually care about and not just the lucky alicorn colt they have been ordered to put up with.

Once he loads up his training kits and passes them their sugary bribes, he hops in the carriage and makes another quick change back to pegasus mode. The move gets a look of confusion from the three, but it seems like “alicorn” is an acceptable blanket explanation for any weirdness around him, so they collectively accept the strange behavior and take his purchases back to the castle.

Cure’s next stop will probably be a quick one, but that depends on whether his attorneys are with a client at the moment. The flight over to the firm, which is just southwest of the train station, is quick, and the view of the city from a few hundred meters overhead is just as breathtaking as it has been every other time.

Unfortunately, there’s enough traffic in the sky that instead of really taking it all in he has to focus on where he’s going. The skies aren’t exactly crowded like the streets are, but there’s more than enough bodies flying around that neither gawking about nor going fast seem like a good idea. Even at a sedate pace it’s only a five minute flight to a small park landing area buried in the surrounding office buildings.

The pair make their way into the law offices, relieved to find that the office is empty of any other clients. The mare behind the reception desk calls out in greeting as soon as the door closes behind them. “Good morning and welcome to Ace, Hardwick, and Rose. How can I help you?”

“Howdy, ma’am,” he greets, the top of his head barely above the desk, “I was wondering if Ms. Rose or Ms. Issue are available and, if there is such a thing, if you have a form I can get my parents to fill out that will authorize me to make some decisions independent of them.”

“There is not,” she immediately answers. “Foals below fifteen must have a parent’s approval for most things unless they have been emancipated. You’re already a client?”

“I am…” he hesitates a moment before asking, “Are you bound by attorney-client privilege as well?”

“Anycreature that works in a law office is, the same as the attorneys themselves,” she answers with a nod.

“Cool. My name’s Cure Wave, and I wanted to update one of them with a change in status. I think Ms. Rose is, technically, my attorney. Ms. Issue was needed for a special talent demonstration during my initial consultation.”

“Ah,” she bobs her head in understanding. “Fridays are usually their paperwork days,” she explains, her eyes drifting to Lt. Spear, “Is this an urgent matter?”

Spear gives a weak shrug and shakes her head no. “Not urgent, as such, but important. I’m First Lieutenant Gliding Spear, second in command of the city’s garrison. I can’t tell you what to do, but…” she pauses, slowly looking back to the colt, “I suspect they will want to see him if they have a few minutes.”

The receptionist quirks a single brow and looks between the two before nodding. She stands and approaches Moon Rose’s door, knocking gently then poking her head in for a few seconds. She shuts the door and returns to her desk. “She’ll just be a moment, she just needs to finish what she’s working on. Please have a seat.”

They make their way to the cushions and lay down; the lieutenant gets situated first and Cure flops next to her, leaning against her left side. In what he can only assume is a reflex, her wing raises and wraps over his back, pulling him closer into her side. Her eyes widen and she freezes for a moment once it registers what she did, but the colt just sighs in contentment and rests his head on her cannon.

The snuggling isn’t terribly uncommon for ponies, even between adults and foals not their own. It’s not exactly common either, but it is a little more familiar of a gesture than would typically be expected given their relationship. It would be completely expected from any of his friends’ parents or somepony that’s a friend of the family, though.

He can’t think of a problem with it, so despite it being slightly overly familiar, he just rolls with it. She’s basically his guardian for the day and she is out of armor, so there’s no reason why he shouldn’t treat her the same as he does the princess. There’s also the fact that a warm, soft wing is draped across his back and he’s snuggled up to a pretty mare. All things considered, this is A-OK in his book.

While they’re getting situated the receptionist unlocks and enters the records vault, closes the door, finds Cure’s file, takes it into Moon Rose’s office, then returns to her desk. It’s only a few minutes later that Moon Rose opens her door and peeks out. She looks at the purple pegasus colt and mare snuggling on the cushion and, to Cure's surprise, gives them a beaming smile.

The pair get up and approach the blue mare as Cure calls out, “It’s me, Ms. Rose. I’ll explain.”

“Sure! We’ll have to use the conference room,” she says as she motions to the same room as last time. Quickly locking her door behind her, she sheepishly explains, “Friday is our paperwork day and I have a few things out on my desk.”

Her behavior seems a little odd compared to the last time they met, but he's confident a changeling didn't replace the mare on the off chance he would happen to stop in. With an acknowledging nod, Cure beckons the lieutenant to join him and the two follow her into the room that looks exactly as it did last time, booster seat and all. Once seated and, with the door closed, Moon Rose regards her alleged client and the mare she recognizes as the XO of the city guard.

“So,” the colt starts, “last time I was here the first thing I asked was if I was covered under attorney client privilege. You called me eloquent,” he recalls, “then I demonstrated my talent with an Illusion crystal and fixed Ms. Issue’s eyes. She gave us a coupon for dinner.”

Moon Rose nods, easily remembering the details of that meeting. With a knowing smile she says, “I recall your dam stopped by the Friday before a certain rather significant event…”

Cure chuckles warmly and nods as his suit merges back into his suddenly blue coat. His wings remain and, in only a second, his horn is once again prominently on display, standing tall off of his brow. “I figured y’all probably put two and two together.”

Her face lights up in excitement as she leans closer to fully take in the colt’s appearance. “If you’ll allow me…?” she asks with forced calm, pointing at the door.

“Sure.”

She gets up and leaves the conference room, nearly vibrating in eager anticipation. A knock and a quick hushed conversation can be made out and, a moment later, Ace Issue comes barreling in the door with Moon Rose right on her tail. She takes one look at the alicorn, shouts “Celestia damn it!” then stamps her hooves, cursing and slowly spinning in a circle while carrying on. Finally she stops, looks at Moon shooting her a sneer, and says, “I’ll go get yer stinkin bits!” before stomping back out of the room.

“You bet it was me?”

“I sure did!” she proudly declares. “I suspected when I saw the snake in the sky and heard the announcement. When I read that Prince Serpentus is a healer?” she scoffs, “I knew it had to be you. The timing was too perfect. Ace said the colt in the pictures looked nothing like you, but I told her!” she nearly shouts, shaking a hoof in triumph. “I kept saying, ‘He does cosmetic alterations for work, dum dum! Of course he looks different!’”

“Yeah, yeah, here’s your damn money!” Ace growls, floating two ten bit coins to the blue mare as she re-enters the room. She pushes the door shut and joins her partner on the other side of the table, sitting down in a huff and giving Cure a weak glare. “I guess I can forgive ya since you fixed my peepers, colt. Most ponies that cost me money don’t get off so lightly, so consider yourself lucky!” she exclaims, jabbing a hoof in his direction.

The smug look never leaves Moon’s face as she regards the alicorn. “An alicorn colt,” she mumbles, shaking her head. “Well done, Cure. I’ve been keeping an eye on the papers.”

“Smooth moves with those plotholes on Monday!” Ace interrupts in a laugh. “Those pictures have been in almost every paper all week. If half those morons aren’t already fired I’ll eat my own tail.”

“Indeed,” Moon agrees, “for our celebrity clients I would normally refer them to our own public relations ponies, but I’m sure her majesty has that taken care of. Aside from winning me a free lunch,” she shoots Ace a smirk who responds by sticking out her tongue, “what can we help you with today?”

“Well last time I was here you said to come to you with anything other than plotting to overthrow the princess. I was wondering if your policy on that has changed.” He pays no attention to how Lt. Spear slowly turns her head to glare at him.

“I’ve already got the SiC of the guard in my pocket,” she scoffs, “and Cpt. Shield seems ta really like me too,” that gets a snorted laugh from the lieutenant, “so I figure I’ll just keep givin the boss lady cake all’a the time and when she’s so big her legs can’t reach the ground past her belly then the throne will be mine!”

Ace raises a hoof and waits until Cure points to her. “Can I be your Chancellor of Laws?”

“Sure, why not?”

“I’m in!”

“Cure?” Spear calls, voice dripping exasperation.

“Hmm?”

“You said you always behave. Plotting coups, even nonviolent ones, is not behaving.”

He rolls his eyes and loudly sighs. “Fiiine! The job sounds like it sucks anyhow.” All three mares nod, even if Lt. Spear’s is shallower and somewhat reluctant. “I really just came by since I figured you needed to know. Eventually, at least. I’ll still need somepony representing my interests on the off chance that were to become necessary outside my role as a prince.”

“That’s probably wise,” Moon agrees. “Having incomplete information about a client can cause difficulties. We may need to refer you to other firms for things of a more international nature.”

“Yeah, colt,” Ace seconds. “That’s a whole different set of rules, there. We’re not well versed in international business law. Not enough to represent you, that is.”

“That’s fair. I do have some things I want to make that’ll have an international impact, but the more I’ve thought of them the more I’m leaning towards working with my great grandsire to make ‘em happen. I can grow plants that will produce meat-like food, for example.

“I’m thinking primarily pig, chicken, and turkey. Maybe if those are well received I’ll do some fish, a variety of other seafood, and, of course, delicious, succulent pegasus.” A wing immediately slaps his back. “I may end up reconsidering the last one,” he admits, not even looking at the scowling lieutenant.

Still giggling, Ace nods in agreement. “That may be best. Come to us with everything and, if it’s outside our expertise, we’ll set you up with the right firm.”

“Right, I know. I mean, we got sent here because of your reputation with criminal and magical stuff. I may need some assistance setting up a scholarship program at CSGU eventually, but that’s a future project.”

Moon Rose cocks a brow in question. “A scholarship program?”

“Yeah. The princess said she’s okay with it, but I’ll need to reach out to Principal Brightstar once I’ve got the details sorted. Think of it like a bounty program for spell diagrams. I list an idea, offer a bounty, put some stipulations like magic cost in there, and submission get payouts if they work.”

“Huh,” Ace grunts, “that’s a weird way of doing it. Not a bad idea, though.”

“Yep. Hopefully I’ll identify a good sorcerer or two. I have ideas; if they can make ‘em possible I’ll make them richer than they ever dreamed. It’s not important right now,” he insists, flipping his wing in dismissal.

“I know today’s your day to catch up on work, so I’ll get out of your manes. One last heads-up; I’ll be living here attending CSGU next year, so if y’all ever need healing, dental, or vision then let me know. I’ll be making arrangements to do my cosmetic work after school, too, so if yer interested in getting anything done, there ya go.”

“Finally, and this part is confidential for now, but keep in mind, biomanipulation… Alicorn of Life,” he reminds them. He lifts his broad wings and flips the mental Crystal Pony switch on, sparkling in blue and green, “there’s a lot I can do that I don’t advertise, and for select, privileged clients like yourselves, those special services are negotiable,” he finishes, cutting the effect back off.

The two attorneys are silently gaping at the sudden display. Ace swallows thickly as she slowly nods. Moon Rose coughs to clear her throat and tactfully says, “We’ll keep that in mind if we need anything.”

“Cool. Always a pleasure, ladies,” he says, quickly changing his appearance back to match the lieutenant. Knowing a good mic drop line, he opens the door, tucks his horn away, and trots out of the room.

Lt. Spear dutifully follows, wishing the attorneys a good day on her way out.

“Daaaaamn,” Ace slowly breathes out once they’re gone.

“Yeah,” Moon quietly agrees.

“You think in about six years I could ask him to stud for me?”

“Ace!”

“What?! That’s good stock right there,” she insists, waving at the empty seat. “Technically, that’s the best stock in the world, as far as I know.”

Moon lets out a sigh and shakes her head at her partner, even if she can’t help but acknowledge the truth of the statement.

Finally at her wit’s end, Spear asks, “How are you doing that so fast?”

Cure turns his head slightly, careful to keep one eye looking out for other fliers, and raises a single brow in question.

“I’ve seen you change your colors and stuff, but all of the sudden you’re this,” she motions at his new talons and beak, “between one blink and another. Have you just been pretending to need a moment the whole time?”

“Ah. No, but I have been getting a bit faster with practice. I’ve just been using Illusion while changing. Whenever we’ve gone somewhere that I know I’m going to be changing my disguise I’ve put an Illusion over myself, then changed whatever. As soon as I can see nopony is lookin my direction, bam… no more Illusion.”

“But… your horn…”

“Illusion crystal, lieutenant. Besides, for some things I can cast without my horn visible.”

“Oh. Good thinking. Where to next?”

Cure gives the lieutenant the best smile he can manage with a beak. “I’ve asked a few patients about restaurants in town. There’s a nice griffon one over near their embassy,” he waves towards the government administration buildings to the southeast of the castle’s main gate. “I don’t suppose you’d be willing to humor me? I don’t see the princess bein eager ta eat meat, even fish, so…” he trails off with a hopeful look.

“You do know that griffons don’t just eat fish, right?”

“Of course. I’ve seen inside enough of ‘em I can tell that.”

“Alright,” she sighs, motioning ahead, “lead the way.”

With an eager grin the colt checks his path and begins to arc to the south. The restaurant is only a few blocks further west than his attorney’s office, so it only takes a moment for them to come in for a landing.

Maestro’s Eatery sits at the corner of a line of other restaurants and shops, but unlike most of its nearby competitors there is no outdoor dining area. A dark red awning lines the front of the building and two large, tinted windows flank either side of a single dark walnut door. The restaurant’s name is written on both windows in an elegant golden script.

“Ooo! Fancy,” he mumbles as he pulls the door open. The interior is darkly lit and, the more Cure sees, the more he’s surprised a restaurant this nice is even open for lunch. He can only assume the nearby griffon embassy must generate enough business, somehow, to have earlier hours than most finer dining establishments. Either that or they open early on Fridays, a not unlikely assumption given that most creatures don’t work a full forty hours each week.

A hostess podium shaped like half of a hexagon is staffed by a quite pretty eagle hen in a dark brown vest. She takes in the colt and the lieutenant, immediately noticing their matching coloration. “Just two?”

“Yes ma’am,” Cure happily chirps.

At Spear’s nod the hen gives them a smile, sticks a couple menus under her left wing, and motions for them to follow. The restaurant is somewhat busy; more than half of the thirty-odd tables are occupied and, overwhelmingly, the patrons are griffons just as Cure had expected. Several bat families are present, something he feels like he should have expected given their omnivorous dentition. A few day ponies and a single hippogriff have joined a few other griffons at the bar and appear to be well on their way to an early evening.

The pair are escorted towards a line of tables just beside the bar. He once again notes that the lighting is a whole lot lower than any of the restaurants he’s been in before; the only source being a few skylights mainly situated around the bar area. There are light fixtures in the ceiling, but none of them are on at the moment.

Earth ponies and unicorns would probably have a bit of a hard time reading the menu, but then there’s also small, mostly ornamental candles sitting on each table that could provide enough light that they should be okay.

Upon showing the pair to their table, the hen sets down the menus, then fetches a booster for the colt, setting it beside his apparent dam instead of across from her. Cure hops up and gives the lieutenant a quick nuzzle, then cracks open the menu. The colt is delighted to find that bacon is, indeed, available with some meals as well as a la carte.

He’d wondered if venison may show up on the menu, but even if there are non-sapient deer that’s apparently a little too close to home for some creatures to stomach. He doesn’t doubt some griffons would happily eat it, sapient source or not, but shipped-in meat is occasionally inspected, so having anything that may have been able to say no is definitely not allowed in Equestria.

The server that approaches could very well be the hostess’ sister; her colors and facial features are remarkably similar and she looks about the same age. Lt. Spear orders the fish and chips and, when the hen looks to Cure, he makes a special request. “I would like, literally, one of every kind of meat you offer,” he tells her, sliding two stacks of five hundred-bit coins on the table.

The hen looks at the stacks, brow raised in surprise, then turns to the lieutenant with a questioning look. She gives a helpless shrug and motions back to the colt who continues, “Despite our colors, my guardian here is not my dam or mother.

“I’m from out of town and, where I am from, I almost never get to have meat, so I want to try everything as long as it’s cooked. Hay, I’d even love to come have a look in the kitchen if it’s allowed,” he adds, sliding another couple coins beside the stacks and giving the hen a pleading look. “Don’t worry about anything going to waste; I’m a growing colt, or in other words, a bottomless pit.”

“I…” she hesitates, shocked at the odd request and the significant amount of money on the table. “I’ll go check with my manager. One second!” Despite hurrying off, she doesn’t hesitate to scoop up the coins before bolting.

As soon as she’s out of earshot the lieutenant learns closer and sternly demands, “What are you doing?”

“Sampling the food?” he answers as if it’s the most obvious thing ever. “I can eat it all, don’t worry. I really am a bottomless pit. I ate a tree once.”

“Not just that. Why do you want… a tree?!”

“Maybe a third of one,” he says with an extremely toothy smile that looks very out of place in a beak. “It did take me a while to digest that, though. It was the night I first made my suit and I needed the material.”

Spear takes in the explanation with a bewildered look, not exactly sure how that works and equally unsure she wants to know. “That aside, why do you want to see the kitchen? Are you worried it’s not clean or something?”

“Oh, no, not at all. It wouldn’t matter to me if it was anyhow. To a degree, I suppose. I want to see if I can scan whatever it is they have back there before it’s cooked. You heard me at the lawyers. This is a successful restaurant. What better way is there to find out what griffons like?”

She huffs out a sigh, once again shaking her head in exasperation at the colt’s antics. It only takes a few minutes before the waitress returns with an extremely excited looking tom beside her, and Lt. Spear can only pray to the maker that she isn’t going to be here all day.

“Three maker damned hours!”

“It wasn’t three hours! Besides, I’m a growin colt! Gotta get my protein, ya know?”

“Where did it all go?! I swear you ate twice your damn weight in meat and your sides aren’t even the slightest bit wider!”

After a very productive tour of the kitchen and the freezer, as well as a quick meeting with the chef, Cure had sat down, cleaned his talons with the offered hot towel, and ate, just as he’d requested, one of almost every cooked meal on the menu, one after another. The look on the waitress’ face was priceless; she would come out with two or three meals on her wing, set them down, go refill his water, and come back to spotlessly cleaned plates only a moment later.

Lt. Spear did her best not to watch after the first few meals. Cure wasn’t disgusting or anything, but the monstrous volume he took in made her gut weep in sympathy. All and all, the colt’s table manners were better than most griffons, even if it took him a moment to figure out how to eat with a beak instead of a mouth. He’s a natural with talons, she noticed, and didn’t have any problem getting by despite the lack of utensils aside from a spoon.

The way his claws nearly flowed through half of a broiled chicken was somewhat terrifying. She’s not sure how he can cut like a griffon or hippogriff can with their magic, but he certainly didn’t have any problem cutting through it like it was air. The way he ate the bones and all was a little upsetting, but after the first drumstick disappeared down his throat with no problem the lieutenant relaxed a little.

After the first hour he had drawn more than a little attention. The patrons at the bar had quickly started taking note of the repeated trips by the waitress, not to mention the steady, continuous pace with which he put everything away. Nocreature approached them despite their hushed conversations.

It was amusing, in a way, that even the griffons seemed a little on edge at Cure’s display. Spear knows that behind closed doors they like to think of themselves as apex predators. Everygriff in the bar seemed to just know; a far more dangerous creature was in their midst, and it was wrapped in the thin guise of a hippogriff foal, wiggling happily in its seat while moaning around a beakful of bacon.

After their meal Cure ordered something called a lava cake to go and the pair went back to the castle. He flagged down a servant and asked that it be delivered to her majesty as soon as possible, then led the lieutenant out to the sparring circles next to the barracks.

“I have a very fast metabolism,” he insists. The pair pause as they survey the area. Drills and training are usually done in the mornings, so aside from a few unicorns plinking away at targets to the south, the area is mostly vacant.

“So… you really want to spar? I know you’ve been practicing hoof to hoof, but have you practiced with a spear at all?”

“I haven’t, but that makes you the perfect teacher for a few reasons. The big one being your mark,” he says with a nod at her flanks. The lieutenant’s mark is a little ambiguous since marks don’t convey scale. It looks more like a depiction of a thrown javelin with two lightning bolts flanking it, all three impacting the same point. The image is rotated so the three objects point directly forwards. “Is your special talent spearwork or javelin throwing?”

“Definitely the former. I’m not a bad shot with a javelin, but I was number one in the division with a spear.”

“Nice. What exactly counts as a spear and what doesn’t? In some ways a javelin is a basic light spear, just shortened, right?”

The lieutenant frowns in thought, tilting her head as she considers the question. “I… guess I never considered that my talent could be either.”

Cure suddenly bursts out in laughter at a stray thought. “We absolutely have to test this. Just imagine if your talent works on spears of all sizes! You may be the most dangerous toothpick wielder in the entire world, lieutenant!”

“That couldn’t possibly work,” she insists.

He shrugs noncommittally and gives his wings a flap, clearing the distance to the closest firing lane. Fully stocked up on biomass, he extrudes a half dozen oak javelins, each only about a meter long. Pony weapons tend to be shorter due to being held in a leg, but thicker so they can be gripped in the crook of a fetlock more easily. More sedately walking over, the lieutenant arrives just as he’s done.

“Let’s see what you got, LT. Oh, and do you mind if I scan you? I can learn your form a lot easier that way.”

“Sure, that’s fine.” She inspects one of the javelins and tosses it in the air a few hooves to test its weight. Apparently adequate, she wraps her right foreleg around it and gets in position. Cure watches intently as she lines herself up with the target, crouches into a three legged pounce, draws the javelin back underneath herself, and spreads her wings forward. In an explosion of movement she leaps forwards, flaps her wings, and mid-pounce, kick-throws the javelin forwards with a shouted “HYAH!”

The missile blasts forwards at a speed Cure had never anticipated.

Though a buck is, by a wide margin, the most powerful kick a pony can deliver, only a fool would assume that’s the extent of striking options available to them. Ponies can kick forwards with their forehooves with an astonishing amount of force; enough that on a solid hit almost any bone hit will snap like a twig.

Even a unicorn can kick far harder than one would expect, and an earth pony with their greater mass, larger hooves, longer legs, and metaphysical strength boost can potentially powder a bone with a good hit. They may crack or split their hoof, which hurts like a motherfucker, but the other fella probably won’t be in a position to take advantage of it.

The javelin barrels into the target, penetrating halfway through. Though not a perfect shot, the lieutenant wasn’t just bragging; the hit landed right on the second ring out, an impressive first shot even if they’re on the short, twenty-five meter lane.

Cure whistles his appreciation and looks at the mare in a new light. She may be exceptionally good compared to most, but the speed and precision was downright fucking impressive. “Well butter my biscuits, LT. There’s a certified hardflank under that pretty mare disguise, ain’t there?”

Spear snorts and starts laughing, nodding her whole neck and head energetically. “That’s almost exactly what my DS said back in basic! You sounded just like her.” She abruptly stops laughing and winces. “That’s not really a good thing.”

“I’m sure your stint as a DS ended with squad after squad buying you ‘#1 Sarge’ mugs,” he incredulously points out.

At least she’s honest enough to not argue. Cure watches as the mare takes another three shots, each one closer to the middle than the last. Worth noting, the center of the target is absolutely not called a bullseye, instead referred to as the “snout” of the target. She picks up the fifth and holds it out to Cure, waving at the target in invitation.

He accepts the javelin and takes her place, mimicking her stance as best he can. His stance, hop, and throw are nearly perfect, but he inadvertently puts a whole lot more umph behind his shot, sending the javelin sailing in a laser-straight line nearly two meters above the target. The projectile explodes into a million splinters against the wall, causing a booming crack to sound out.

A second later a unicorn’s head pokes over one of the crenulations, looks down at the remains, then hones in on the pair. Cure points a hoof at Spear, Spear points her wing at Cure, and the guard rolls his eyes before ducking back and returning to his patrol.

“Maybe a little more precision, less power?” she suggests.

“I’m familiar with the last couple words, but I have no idea what it means when they’re used together like that.”

“Just…” she sighs. “Just take it easy until you get your aim right.”

“Fiiine!” he grouses. “A few more then I wanna spar with ya. I don’t see me ever using a spear, but ya never know. Besides, there’s something I need from you I probably won’t get anywhere else.”

She holds her question while he gets in position. His throw, while still far harder than is necessary, is at least on target. This time coming in a little low, the javelin splits the line of the first ring, blows out the back of the target, and slides across the ground until coming to a stop.

“Maybe make the javelin wider behind the grip,” she suggests. “Good shot, though, especially for only your second try. So… what do you need from me specifically?”

“I need someone that’s not so afraid of hurting me that they won’t actually hit me.”

She blinks as that processes. “Pardon?”

“Look, lieutenant… how many ponies out there think they’re a total hardflank?” He only gives her a second to think about her answer, but continues on before she can voice it. “A lot, I’m sure.”

“Everypony thinks they’re a hardflank right up ‘till they get a hoof to the face. I’ve never actually been hit by anypony, but I at least know how it works. You think yer invincible, that you’ll be able to just shake it off. Then you get hit for real and, suddenly, it dawns in you that you’re not, and getting hit like that shatters whatever notion you had about your inability to lose. You’re either ready for it or you’re not.”

“I… suppose.”

“I can take a hit. I can take a hit that would kill most, in fact, but how many ponies would be willing to, in training, actually take that swing?”

“None should. You’re eight.”

“And you could probably bend a piece of rebar over my forehead and not hurt me. I can make padded spears, but I need to learn not to flinch when I’m about to get clobbered. I need to experience that hit so I can learn to fight through it.

“I’ll start with a helmet if it’ll make ya feel better, but I would consider it a huge favor if you’d teach me to fight and help me train out the reflexes that could cause me, or whoever I’m fighting for, to really get hurt someday. Bruise today so I don’t break tomorrow and all that.

“I know that won’t happen in one session, but it sounds like I’ll be back every so often, even before I move here next fall. Besides, I know the thought of bashing me in the head had’ta come up at least a few times today. Well…” he gives her a big smile and waves to the sparring rings, “here’s your chance.”

Training with the lieutenant went exceedingly well. Cure didn’t show her how to use her cutie mark just yet; he’s waiting for the princess to figure out how to start teaching that to ponies, but he suspects this is a case where, even passively, the mare is better with a spear than anypony could be without decades of experience.

Spears are absolutely one of those weapons that is easy to use, but still takes a lot to master. That’s doubly true when a sharp metal blade is affixed. A glaive may technically be a different weapon, but Cure suspects the LT could be just as good with one as she is javelins, and that’s definitely something he’d like to see the results of. Between her and Sgt. Song he has two weapons specialists he could potentially learn from.

The two had sparred for the better part of two hours, which is a lot of training when the only breaks needed were for water and to give her a refresh. They ducked in the barracks for a quick shower and a relaxing bath afterwards. Although she was welcome to come to dinner at the palace, she demurred, citing the need to get home since her shift is done for the day.

The pair split up in the castle entryway with Cure thanking her profusely for putting up with him all day. He wrapped her in a hug before she took off for home and he was informed dinner should be ready soon. He finds the princess just as she’s getting seated at the head of her dinner table. To his slight surprise, she is not alone.

“Evenin’, princess!” he shouts, trotting up to the ancient mare and wrapping her in a side hug, which she eagerly returns with her wing. The familiar move surprises Prince Blueblood and his wife, but their foals just look on in envy. He isn’t sure why; Celestia hugged Vladimir the forty-fifth, or as he’s mentally labeled him, Senior, the first time without any hesitation at all. Maybe the foals just never tried to give her a hug before, but Cure can’t imagine she’d be anything less than thrilled to do so.

“And a wonderful evening to you, as well, Serpentus. I must thank you for the treat earlier. I have not had something like that…” she blinks in thought for a second, “ever, I believe.”

“Oh! Great! It’s really good with a couple scoops of vanilla ice cream, but I knew they would melt so I had ‘em hose it down in whipped cream, which is the next best thing if ya ask me.” Before he risks offending anypony, Cure releases the princess and gives the prince a respectful nod. “Greetings, your highness, Lady Due, everypony. Sorry if I kept everypony waiting, I didn’t know you were joining us for dinner.”

Cure is barely even seated before staff start bringing out dinner salads and setting them in front of everypony.

“Oh think nothing of it, Serpentus,” Senior responds with a dismissive wave as Cure settles in on the princess’s left. Blueblood is to her right, then his wife and foals fill in on his right side in order of age. “What’s this about a treat?” he curiously asks.

“Apparently Serpentus took Lt. Spear to a restaurant that I have not visited. He brought back a very unique cake; a chocolate one with a center that was some kind of melted chocolate. It was absolutely fantastic!”

“My, that does sound intriguing,” Senior agrees.

Noble Due asks, “What was the name of the restaurant? Was the food good as well?”

“Oh yeah, absolutely. I tried almost one of everything. Maestro’s Eatery,” he points east with a wing, “just a few blocks to the east.”

Celestia coughs, mid-bite, quickly grabbing her water to wash down her food.

“Woah, one salad ta go!” Cure laughs.

She finally chokes down her food and turns to scowl at the chuckling colt. “If I’m not mistaken, that is a griffon restaurant, right?”

“Yep! There were a few bat families there, too. I wish I had realized there would be bats ‘cause I’ll tell ya what, eating with a beak is a pain in the rear. I ended up havin ta give myself teeth again.”

“Sorry,” Noble interrupts, “I’m afraid I do not understand. A… beak?”

“Oh. I was going around in disguise, though I admit it I kinda blew that when the lady at Tinkerer’s Treasure was a jerk. Just gimme a sec.” Cure leans back and extends a wing in front of his face for a moment and quickly alters his snout back to a beak and his forehooves into talons.

He moves his wing, smirking as best he can at the collective gasps, and holds it out to the side as he changes his colors back to the lieutenant’s again. He reaches up and runs his talons over his horn, briefly obscuring their view as he retracts it into his mane.

Disguise complete, he holds his legs and wings out wide. “Ta daa!”

“You’re a… hippogriff?” Azure Tiara asks.

He shrugs and wobbles a set of talons in a so-so motion. “Appearance-wise, but I’m still an alicorn, even if I have claws. Talons. Whatever. The beak,” he taps said feature, “sucks to eat with, as I was saying. Ya can’t really chew with it, ya know?” He leans forward and tilts his head up, holding the top part open. Everypony leans forwards curiously to see what he’s pointing out. “No teef. Thee?”

He closes his beak and sits back, continuing, “So, yeah… they can’t chew much at all. Instead they have to cut things up with their claws, then kinda mince ‘em with their tongue spines.” He picks up a piece of lettuce, turns his claws over, and drops the leaf on one. It passes over the talon, split in two, without slowing at all.

Both parents pale slightly; an impressive feat given how white they already are. At least the foals seem fascinated with the colt. Both daughters mumble soft “Oh my!”s at the display.

“Goodness!” Junior gasps, “Just how sharp are those?”

“I can sharpen or blunt them at will with my talent. One sec,” he calls, focusing on some of the material in his bit pouch. He reaches back and pulls three blocks of wood out of his mane. Each is nearly forty centimeters long, ten wide, and only a few tall.

Everypony watches in fascination as he extends his horn, then levitates the blocks in front of him and reshapes them into fixed-length, single-sided blades with long shafts for the grips.

He etches his cutie mark into the blades’ sides and begins to explain, “If I’m doing the math right, the density of the wood is about a quarter of the alloy I’m using, so I need the blade and grip attachment to be four times the final product’s size.” He takes a crystal out of his mane and, three small flashes later, the blades are much smaller and no longer wood, but a shiny silver metal.

He withdraws more wood and crafts, then affixes the handles, or rather, grips, as well as a small pommel, then makes three scabbards to safely sheathe the blades. He floats the three over to Senior and says, “I would put a Durability crystal in the grip. I left a small spot for it here at the base. Sharpening just isn’t necessary; they literally cannot get any sharper.”

He looks at the three stunned foals and waves at the knives, “A gift for the three of you. They’ll make a great letter opener, but they’ll cut through you just as easily as paper, so be careful.” Dumb nods are his only response.

Everypony has stopped eating. Cure notices several waitstaff watching curiously, having witnessed the display of craftsponyship and magic.

“May I?” Celestia asks Blueblood. He passed one over with a nod. Celestia uses her horn to unsheath a blade and examines the metal intently. “It’s not steel,” she prompts, turning to the colt with an upraised brow.

“An aluminum-titanium alloy. Transmutation is complete and total b… uhh, it’s super unfair. Me and one of my fillyfriends have been doin some experimenting with different alloys. I’m not sure how well it’ll keep its edge and it’ll suck to sharpen, but it’s a very tough, lightweight metal. Not as good as high-hardness steel, but that’s boring.”

“Hence your suggestion of the crystal,” she nods in understanding.

“Right. If it ever stops cutting as well, then maybe switch to a Sharpening one. It’ll never rust and you’ll have to put some serious effort into breaking one.”

“A fantastic dowry, Serpentus,” she teases with a faint smile. “First you adopt the griff appearance, then you propose in their culture’s way. Congratulations.”

Junior snorts a laugh but the girls look near panicking until everypony else starts laughing too. “Har, har, boss. I’m not shooting for a double digit wife count, though, no matter what my sire suggests.”

The princess resheaths the blade and passes it back to Senior. “A lovely present nonetheless. Mayhaps a somewhat unusual one for a couple young fillies, at least in this day and age, but such a thing would certainly be the envy of many young foals, especially with your mark upon it.”

“Indeed!” Senior boisterously shouts, “They are truly marvelous, Serpentus. I must thank you for such a wonderful gift.” The others are quick to echo the stallion’s thanks, which Cure courteously accepts.

“You’ll forgive us if we hold off on letting Tiara and Twilight have them for now, I hope,” Noble adds.

“I can have mine, right?” Junior pleads.

“As long as you’re careful, dear,” she answers. She turns back to Cure and explains, “My husband and son have trained with dueling blades. I believe some basic lessons for our daughters would be wise beforehoof.”

“Definitely,” he easily agrees. “Hey, uh… wait, when you’re both in a room how do you want to be addressed?” he asks, motioning between the two stallions.

“Senior and Junior in informal settings, normally,” Senior answers.

“Cool, that’s what I was doing mentally anyhow. Sorry, I think I kinda messed up the timing on the meal here. Gimme a sec to change back,” he says, covering his face with a wing again. He reverts his muzzle and hooves, then adjusts his colors back to his Serpentus guise before folding his wing back.

“So, yeah, like I was saying, eating with a beak stinks. You don’t get all the flavors from food since you’re not chewing it up as much. Drinking is way worse; you basically have to dip yer beak in and suck the water up like a straw. I would definitely go as a bat next time instead.”

Misty Twilight cocks her head to the side and asks, “How exactly are you doing that?”

“My talent lets me change my form pretty easily,” he explains. “I’m blocking your sight with a wing because unlike other kinds of magic, there is no bright flash or anything. Some ponies don’t like seeing it, even though it really isn’t like… grotesque or anything. Bunnies, especially bunnicorns, are a hit with the ladies, lemme tell ya,” he says, leaning over to nudge the princess.

She pouts and turns away, but Senior seems to have heard about the incident. “That was you?!”

“Yep!”

“My word. A versatile talent, indeed.”

Senior proceeds to tell the story he’d heard to his family while the princess huffs and pretends to be annoyed. Nopony is buying it at all; she clearly finds it just as amusing as everypony else. Cure takes the opportunity to inhale his salad, catching up to everypony else that had been eating while he’d been talking away.

The table pauses conversation as the entree is brought out. Salad plates are removed and silverware is swapped for clean sets. The dish isn’t as fancy as the one he and everypony else had been served the one night, but that’s fine by him.

The entree is a broccoli alfredo pasta with a sprinkling of parmesan cheese and some parsley for a garnish. A few sun-dried tomatoes and some corn are added in, something he’s never seen before. The corn adds a little crunch-like texture but the tomatoes he could do without. Split loaves of buttery garlic bread are set at each place and drinks are topped off. The wait staff also bring out a bottle of wine, a glass of which is poured for each adult.

Everypony begins eating quietly for a few moments until Senior finally speaks up. “So I understand you have had an incredibly busy week, Serpentus. How are you faring?”

“Pretty good, actually. The night shift I worked on Wednesday for the bats kinda sucked, but I’ve been getting used to waking up early for training on Saturday anyhow. Today was a heck of a lot of fun and I even had time to stop in and say hay to a couple ponies I haven’t seen since last year. Professional contacts,” he quickly adds. “I don’t know many ponies here in the capital yet.”

“Something we must remedy!” Senior declares, waving a hoof in the air. “It’s a shame you aren’t closer in years to my son. It may be presumptive of me, but I am guessing you have little experience golfing?”

Cure exaggerates a cringe and admits, “I don’t have any.”

“Well, we simply must get you acquainted with the sport! Perhaps when you move here more permanently you would like to join Junior for a round up in Brightwood. As you may surmise, there simply isn’t sufficient space for a course here in the city, but the flatter land to the northeast is ideal, and at your age it’s absolutely crucial that you have an opportunity to meet the up and coming movers and shakers of your generation.”

“Darling,” Noble calls as she sets a hoof on her husband’s foreleg, “I’m sure when he is older such opportunities will present themselves.”

“Ah! Yes,” he energetically nods, “Quite right. I’m sure you’re famished. Please forgive my eagerness. It is not often I get to introduce young colts to the game, and I understand you have a fondness for physical activities.”

“Saw me sparring with the lieutenant, huh?”

All six heads nod. “From what little I saw,” Celestia begins, “you seemed to improve quite quickly. Lt. Spear is a formidable adversary with her weapon of choice.”

“She mopped the ring with me,” he argues. With a shrug he adds, “I wholeheartedly expected her to, but still. I only got her once,” he pouts.

The ancient mare seems shocked he even managed that. “You succeeded in landing a clean hit?”

“Ehh,” he wavers, wobbling his hoof side to side, “I guess it depends on what you mean by ‘clean.’ I caught her spear in my teeth and whacked her while she was gawking.”

All three foals laugh while the adults look mildly horrified.

“In… your… teeth?” Senior slowly asks.

“Oh yeah, totally. It’s not like I have to worry about messing mine up. My teeth are tougher than a dragon’s. It certainly caught her off guard enough to work. You know what they say about dumb ideas, right?”

“I can think of a few things, but do tell.”

He uses his spoon like a teacher’s pointer, bobbing it on each word, “If a dumb idea works, it ain’t a dumb idea,” and gives the family a firm nod. The parents nod slowly, not seeming to completely agree, while the foals shake in laughter at the image of an alicorn latched onto a spear like a growling dog. Celestia shakes slightly in laughter, but doesn’t speak up. Cure doesn’t miss the amused twinkle in her eye, though.

“Anywho, I learned a lot and even though I don’t see me spearfighting very often it’s nice to know. A lot of moves can be done with just a staff, after all. So, you all do anything fun today?”

“Today was rather uneventful for us,” Blueblood responds. “I spent much of the morning meeting with colleagues at the Rose Lounge. Perhaps when you are a little older Junior can introduce you there as well.”

His wife chimes in next. “I had a meeting this afternoon at the museum. I am unsure if you’re aware, but I sit on the board of the Canterlot Institute of Art. We’re planning an exhibit in celebration of impressionists of the early fourth century this fall, so there’s much to do in preparation.”

God that sounds just dreadful. “Neat.”

“You know how my morning went,” Celestia sighs. “I would have much rather accompanied you, but there’s much to do in preparation for next Saturday, as you can imagine.”

“I’m not sure I can, princess. I’m pretty sure I don’t even know where to start. What about you three? Get into anything fun today?”

“I myself was visiting with a friend this afternoon,” Junior answers. “We had lunch and toured some of the gardens up in the northeast towards the rise of the plateau.”

Misty leans forward and covers the size of her muzzle with a hoof, mouthing “His fillyfriend” to Cure.

Azure pokes her younger sister with a fetlock, then turns back to the colt. “Missy and I had dance and voice lessons this afternoon. Do you dance, Serpentus?”

“Umm… no, not really. I’m willing to bet more than a few bits that even if I do, my version of dancing probably isn’t what you practiced today.”

“Really?” Celestia interrupts, “I seem to recall your mother bragging about a certain performance when you visited last time. If I recall correctly, you even said you may be willing to show me when next you visited.”

Cure feels his ears fall at the reminder. He’ll have to remember to get Title back for that ballet comment. “Ahh… fudge, she did, didn’t she?”

The evil mare smiles broadly and nods. “I’ve been absolutely dying to see it. Dear Noble Due is an accomplished violinist. Perhaps she would be willing to provide the music for you after dinner?”

“Oh! I would be delighted!” she eagerly accepts. Both Bluebloods are nearly shaking in their seats, laughing quietly at the way the mares all ganged up on the poor colt.

“I’m so excited,” Cure flatly intones. “Eh, whatever. It’s far from the most embarrassing thing I’m sure I’ll ever do. Maybe afterwards the two of you,” he nods to the daughters, “can even show me a move or two, hmm?”

Misty shoots him a pout, but her older sister gives an indifferent shrug and nods in agreement.

“Wonderful!” Celestia cheers, bouncing in her seat.

The dance he had performed for his sisters was basically an aerial, two-legged, poor pony’s version of Swan Lake. Black Swan is the only interaction with anything resembling ballet Ed had ever experienced; something he’d only been willing to endure to because Cyndi wanted to see it and, more importantly, he wasn’t going to say no to watching Natalie Portman and Mila Kunis fucking.

It didn’t magically unlock Cyndi’s latent bisexuality, but he didn’t exactly have high hopes of steamy threesomes as a result anyhow. Three stars, overall. It didn’t get any better the second or third time he was dragged to it, either, but it did make him wonder if finding a double for one of the leads may do the trick. It’s a shame he never managed to find that unicorn.

Regardless of another life’s missed opportunities, Cure, clad in a white pony version of a leotard, and with a matching snow white color from snout to tail, hooves included, is laid on his barrel. His large, nearly glowing wings are spread wide; his right covering his front, his left twisted to cover where the right stops, across his back. His tail is tucked underneath and his neck and head are twisted to his side, so at a casual glance the only thing visible is a solid white dome of feathers.

The group had moved to one of the larger gathering halls; the one he suspects is used for the annual gala which he is strongly considering attending. Dawn would be delighted to accompany him, as would Rising, he suspects. The others… not so much, probably. Glacial may, but he’s confident Ferric, Heavy, and Coast would decline.

He’s not sure he would even want to invite Sapphire, though she would almost certainly be thrilled to attend and embarrass the shit out of him. The princess may get a kick out of it, but he’s not sure if she would really invite somepony just to “liven up the party” like she did in the show. Of course, after another ninety years of the same event even he would probably consider it.

Drift… he’s not sure. On one hoof, she may want to go just to try a bunch of “high class” food. Also, he knows that even the most tomcoltish fillies like to be prettied up like princesses on occasion, so who knows? On another hoof, he can easily imagine her laughing in his face at the mere suggestion.

The princess, prince, and three foals are all watching with eager anticipation, curious as to what the colt is capable of. Noble Due, using a borrowed violin that she found “adequate,” fortunately knows the music that Cure was able to hum a few bars of. She was kind enough to play the piece for him once so he could plan out exactly what he’s going to do.

It’s either the same or close enough to the music he recalls that he figures he can work with it. He wonders how exactly a piece by a Russian composer that lived two hundred years before Ed was born managed to cross the universal boundary, but such things just seem to happen in this world, so he spends little time pondering it.

Noble puts wand to string, the lightest touch sounding loudly in the hall. Several servants had quietly gathered to witness the event as well, and, when silence fills the room, she begins to play.

A rush of purple creeps up the colt’s feathers from the floor with the initial notes. In the low lit room, the dark colors mixed with Crystal Pony glistening dimly flash the audience, earning him a round of surprised, if quiet, gasps. The soft melody begins as shades of green and blue creep up his wings like a spectrum analysis, climbing into yellows as tone lightens.

Cure begins slowly moving his wings with the tone, lightly raising and lowering them like a composer as he glides his body left and right, seeming sliding across the floor in short, silent movements with the music while rising to his hooves.

He’s still hidden under his wings, though the colors continue to shift in tune with Noble’s playing. With grace and smoothness few ponies have ever seen, he turns and sways, gliding with the music, his hooves making no sound on the marble floor.

At a minute in he prepares for the shift, facing the audience and coming to a stop. As Noble adjusts and deepens the tone he throws his wings wide, inverting his colors to a solid black. Hues of red and brilliant orange outline his darkened shape as he rears up and pirouettes, on a single hoof, raising and lowering his forelegs, wings, and barrel with the music as his colors continue to flow and change, erupting from his chest and the center of his back.

He seamlessly moves with the tune, reaching and twisting, kicking and bowing, positioning his wings like a pinwheel and rotating himself on a single hoof as the piece approaches the crescendo. Colors explode across his form, erupting from his core and flaring out his wings and down his legs. Purples, blues, greens, yellows, oranges, and reds stream up his neck and over his head, lighting the hall in a rainbow of sound and harmony, all building up to an explosion of red as he moves with speed, hopping and spinning to follow Noble’s lead.

Just as he’d built up to the crescendo, he slowly winds back down, shrinking back on himself as the music slows and using the darker part of the spectrum until, with the last movement of her bow, a single, solid black colt, laying in a heap of spread obsidian feathers, stills on the floor of the hall.

Silence, once again, fills the room.

“My… WORD!” Celestia erupts, clapping her hooves energetically. Blueblood, his foals, the serving staff, and even the guards follow suit, stomping and clapping loudly as the colt reverts his colors to his brown and gold, stands, spreads his wings wide, and bows to the audience.

“Thank you! Thank you! I’ll be here all week!” he jokes.

“That was phenomenal, C… Serpentus,” Celestia cheers, catching herself before she slipped. “I admit, I had expected a rather amateurish display, but… by the stars and my sun, that was amazing!”

“Indeed it was!” Noble shouts in agreement. “You absolutely must perform sometime, Serpentus! I cannot wait to tell my colleagues about this! The colors, the fierce, energetic moves! And such grace from a colt! I had no idea!”

“Uhh… please don’t tell anypony. I’m willing to do stuff like that on a bet or a dare, or for close friends on rare occasions, but performing in front of thousands?” He violently shakes his head no. “Hard pass.”

“You must at least come to class with us!” Tiara insists. “The dance was amazing, but with a little practice you could be a sensation! Would you at least consider coming just once?” Her sister joins in with the big puppy dog eyes, pleading along with her in a begging tone.

“Ah fudge,” he quietly curses.

“I’m afraid he will not have time for quite a while,” Celestia thankfully bails him out. With a mischievous smile she adds, “Perhaps he could join you on occasion when he is attending school next year. I’m sure he has a fillyfriend or two that would absolutely love to see him dance as well.”

The ancient mare isn’t even slightly fazed by his pouty trembling lip, smiling so broadly even her teeth are showing. It’s a beautiful smile, he’ll grant, but it’s definitely more malicious than he’s become accustomed to.

Misty Twilight takes the opportunity to hop down off her couch and canter out to the colt, beating out her older sister as the first to get to show him some moves. Cure folds his wings back, bows lightly to his partner, and prepares for his first lesson; the whole time considering how he may, some day, find a way to get even with the princess for this whole debacle.

The audience mostly disperses as the two get underway. Dancing, for ponies, is quite a bit different than it is for humans. Cure feels like that should be obvious, but with so many parallels between the world and the one from his memories, he kind of expected this one to line up nicely as well. For unicorns and earth ponies, virtually everything is done on four hooves. Though earth ponies can rear and stay up with raw power, pegasi dances are the only ones that involve staying on two hooves for long.

The dances that Twilight, then later Tiara, show the colt remind him mostly of square dancing or the kind of dances Ed had seen in movies set centuries long ago. For most, the participants are either side-to-side or, for the more intimate ones, touching chest-to-chest. For the latter, each partner is slightly to the right, placing their partner on their left. For the former, the stallion is to the mare’s right, which is a little odd to Cure.

He can only assume it’s some kind of “ownership” thing, for lack of a better term. The mare being on the stallion’s left side signifies her importance to him, while him being on her right marks him as her stallion. Gender roles aren’t really a big thing anymore, so it doesn’t matter at all to him, but it’s still an interesting tidbit.

To the colt’s relief, neither girl was overly affectionate with him. He half expected his performance to win one over, but cliches don’t always play out, even on Equus, so he spends the evening dancing, chatting, and, in a way, playing with the girls as the parents, older son, and the princess watch on and critique.

With the promise of a hot bath and a good night’s sleep before returning to the grind, Cure is overall pleased with how well his day off has gone.

Author's Note

I'll go ahead and admit right now - I've inserted a few chapters in that I was previously not going to. 71: Talent Show (obviously, which I don't really even count) but also the visit to RP's place in 70 was originally going to happen off-screen. Bits and pieces of 74 and 76 were going to be tied into what is now next week's chapter and this entire one wasn't going to exist at all. 75 was going to happen mostly off-screen too, which I think would have been a mistake. Obviously. Hence the chapter. (Duh).

Anywho, lots of things would have only been referenced that I ended up flushing out much more thoroughly in entire chapters and the result is that we get to see a whole lot more happen rather than just hearing about it after the fact. As a reader I would have preferred the former, so there ya go. The downside is that the next two chapters are coming later as a result, and the coronation one (79) won't land until I get back from my upcoming hiatus. I will warn you all right now, I have a major life change coming up that may cause problems with my schedule at some point in the near future. I'm hoping not, but things can be unpredictable, so who knows?

So, what to expect for the next month or so... 78 will arrive as scheduled next week (8/21), then I'll be off for 3, so no chapters on 8/28 (I'll be about 2000 miles from home), 9/4, and 9/11 (only 700ish miles from home, scrub). Expect 79 on 9/18, then hopefully we'll get back to normal.

As always, thanks for reading and, especially, commenting. Enjoy!

Chapter 78: Reunion

Thursday, June 18th, 909 AB (6 days later)
Early Evening

As much as Cure wanted to go and greet everypony as soon as they arrived, he’d committed to spending his last available days in Cloudsdale helping out. The cloud city still has a few dozen expecting, but every known pregnancy in Canterlot and the surrounding suburbs have been taken care of. Reports from Chicoltgo, Whinnyapolis, and Foaledo put them right in the middle of their peaks and, as a result, nearly all of the medical professionals Cure had worked with have already moved on.

Celestia had accompanied him when she could, but with the upcoming celebration, coronation, and the slightly reduced workforce, she wasn’t able to stay nearby the entire time. Lt. Spear volunteered to stay with him when she wasn’t available, so he was never without a mare he could trust nearby.

If need be, he was never more than a few kilometers away anyhow; well within Sending distance. It’s a convenience that she had taken advantage of just this morning when his family arrived at the castle. It was a moot point anyhow since Vines, Dawn, and Drift all Sent messages as soon as they were within range.

Dawn had apparently volunteered to do so to prevent him from getting eight messages at once, but Drift decided that since she is the oldest marked fillyfriend it was her right by default. Cure doesn’t quite agree with her logic. Ferric was born in the same season and has had her mark longer than any of them. She probably just doesn’t care enough about the pointless argument to put up a fight.

That Drift is making an issue of it presents a bit of a problem that Cure doubts will automatically get better with time. There isn’t a large cultural importance on being the ‘first wife’ like there was early on, but the position is still recognized as one of prominence. Being the first wife of an alicorn prince is, in some unofficial ways, one of the most powerful positions in the nation.

Cure has considered the fact that Drift probably hasn’t really thought the whole thing through. If she intends on following through with her destiny and flying all over the country then, for practical reasons, letting somepony like Dawn have the position probably makes more sense. She would, after all, be the one expected to be more socially active and lead the household, a role that doesn’t align well with somepony that’s frequently on the move.

It’s a matter that will have to be addressed at some point, and it’s not exactly an easy one to deal with since, unlike most matters of the family, the stallion has full control over this choice. The first wife designation can be unofficially passed to another, but the first wife will always be the first wife as far as many ponies are concerned.

Aware that the issue may not matter if, unlikely as it is, one or more decide to pursue somepony else upon his memory reveal, Cure puts the thought out of his mind as he makes his way out of the hospital. The lieutenant and two guards join him in the carriage as his pegasus defender takes his spot on the roof.

His shift completed, Cure has only one singular thought on his mind; his family is finally here and, after a dozen days of doing without, there’s nothing he wants more than to be held by his dam. The short trip feels much longer, though he’s certain it’s only because he’s excited to finally see everypony again. As he looks out the port window he takes in the mountaintop city and all its decorations.

The residents of the capital had really gone all out preparing for this year’s Celebration. Equestrian flags fly from nearly every building. Taller structures have large banners running down their sides depicting Celestia’s sun or a replica of his mark. They even decorated the street lamps going from the palace, through the town center, and east to the Sun Square for the parade; each one has a bronze snake wrapped around it, looping three times.

Their efforts aren’t that surprising, given the fact that it truly is a momentous occasion. In the long history of the country only a single known pony has achieved what he has; something that somewhat bothers him given how many millions there have been over the millennium.

It’s unfortunately not that difficult to see how it’s possible, either. Ponykind has moved forward at a snail’s pace since the Unification. There has been some advancement, granted, but the magic-powered steam engine is the epitome of technological progress, and that’s apparently been around for over a century. A combination of factors are to blame, two particular ones coming to mind immediately: population and need.

Ponies are perfectly content to simply go through their lives, rarely reaching for more or striving to break free from the day-to-day to truly accomplish anything magnificent. What’s worse is that Cure isn’t completely sure they’re doing anything wrong by that. It’s not exactly entirely accurate to say that humans were better off. Most certainly didn’t seem overall happier than an average pony does. Remarkably few, in fact, based on his memories.

Nopony starves, homelessness is extremely uncommon, families take care of their own, and an immortal nuclear weapon keeps the neighbors honest. Society does a great job satisfying the first four levels of Maslow’s hierarchy and a maybe-divine entity all but shoves ponies towards self actualization. Most see making a living using their special talent as the end goal, never considering that they’re really only scratching the surface.

The colt’s musings are cut short again as the carriage passes the palace’s west face. It continues south, past the edge of the plateau, pitching to port slightly and looping east to align with the runway that bisects the castle grounds. A soft thump and a small jolt a moment later signal that they’ve landed. The draught pegasi continue pulling it on the ground, slowing their pace until stopping between the barracks and the palace.

His guardians rise and open the door; the earth pony kicking down a step with a loud thump as he leads the way out. Cure gives the lieutenant a friendly nuzzle, which isn’t as pleasant with her armor, and climbs off the bench. His three guards are standing at attention as he climbs down and the princess, mane and tail swaying in a way that defies the wind, approaches with her radiantly beaming smile.

As Cure steps out of the carriage she calls out to him in greeting. “Good evening, Serpentus. I trust everything went well today?”

Conscious of observing patrols, the colt drops into a bow for show. “Sure did, your majesty. Only a few complications to deal with. I spent basically all day checking over the newborns again. I think that’s the winning ticket when there’s as many dams as Cloudsdale has.

“I mean… I could help deliver only so many a day, which is a large number, granted, but I can poke my head in a room full of a hundred foals and fix any problems I find in a couple minutes. We didn’t have any emergencies today.” The weight with which he says the word does not escape Celestia’s notice.

She nods in acceptance and beckons for him to stand with a wave of her wing. “I see. Excellent news all around, then.” She looks to Lt. Spear with a grateful smile. “Thank you again for keeping an eye on him again, lieutenant. I’ll make sure he doesn’t misbehave from here on.”

The colt scoffs and rolls his eyes at the remark while the lieutenant nods in acceptance of the dismissal. “Of course, your majesty.”

“Come along, Serpentus,” she calls, turning towards the castle, “I believe you have a few ponies who are eager to see you.”

The group gets moving as Cure canters to keep up with the princess’s far longer stride. “So… any word from the magic health ponies? You told me they were going out yesterday but didn’t mention the results last night.”

“The twins provided an excellent baseline for comparison of the other foals. Thus far, they have found nothing to be alarmed about,” she assures him.

“... but they found something, didn’t they?”

She sighs, nodding as she explains, “Yes, but again, it is insignificant enough that, had it not been for the two sets of twins being identical we would never have noticed it. If anything, it appears to be a boon; the revived foals have slightly more magic than the others. Less than a single standard deviation, but still higher than newborn of their tribe would normally be.”

“And the griffs?”

“The same.”

Cure sighs and hangs his head, nodding in acknowledgement. “That’s just fantastic.”

“You were there for a reason,” she assures him. “If it was not meant to be then you wouldn’t have been given the ability. We will keep an eye out in the future, just to be sure, but thus far it appears that your influence is nothing but a positive.”

“You told me a few weeks back that a foal’s magical ability, at least initially, is tied to the event that created them. You realize the implications, right?”

“I do,” she assures him, “but the suggestion that you are, in some way, those foals’ metaphysical sire is ridiculous. If anything, I would expect them to be weaker if that were the case. The first twin’s family, for example, is a healthy, happy one with strong bonds. Far stronger than any passing familiarity they could have with you, especially given you’re using an alias and a disguise.”

He sighs again, unable to refute the point. “Yeah, I guess. I’m more concerned about the others, though. With the twins I could duplicate their sisters… the others? They’re probably going to be better than they should, seeing as how I ‘fixed’ everything as best I could.”

“And I doubt very much that anypony will object to that. There is nothing wrong with giving a foal every advantage you can, however inadvertent the act may have been. If they end up noticeably healthier or smarter later in life I am certain they will appreciate your efforts all the more. It’s certainly a better result than the alternative.”

“Ehh, I mean, yeah, from a practical standpoint you’re right, but ya know I’ve avoided doing anything funky with my noggin specifically to avoid this kinda situation.”

She has the temerity to scoff at the suggestion. “You may not have changed what’s in your skull, but I will never forget that dance. One you had never done before, to a tune you had heard fully only once.” She reaches down and pokes him accusingly with a wingtip, “One that amazed the entire audience, including two of whom frequent the theater and two others that have danced for years.”

“That’s mostly ‘cause of the color thing,” he weakly defends. She continues walking, but the doubtful side-eye she gives him says plenty. “Whatever, you know what I mean. I’m not making myself a genius or anything.”

“That much is obvious,” she flatly remarks, earning an affronted “Hey!” from the colt and a few quiet chuckles from their guards. “Come along, now,” she continues, “your parents are eager to see you.” Celestia leads the way through the entry hall, up the stairs, down a hallway, past several guard posts, and finally stops at the door to the lounge room near the guest suites.

Cure pauses at the entrance, calling for the princess to wait a moment. “Are the younger foals in there? My cousins and friends’ younger siblings?”

“They are all on a tour of the castle right now, as are your great grandmothers and your aunts.” It takes the colt a split second to realize she means Lucky’s wives. He’s only met them once and still struggles even thinking of the stallion as his uncle, exactly.

Despite the absence of the younger foals, Cure quickly reverts his colors to his typical cerulean blue and green, hiding his wings rather than completely absorbing them, and retracting his horn into his neck pouch. At his nod the princess opens the door.

Like a dog dying to go out, the colt blasts through the barely opened door, beelining for the couch where his dam and sire are snuggling, the green mare sandwiched between her husband and Amethyst. All heads whip in his direction at the sound of his quick clip-clops darting across the floor. Vines barely has time to sit up before her forelegs are full of the wiggling, excited colt.

Celestia more sedately joins Title and Savvy on their couch, entertaining the filly with a rousing game of peek-a-boo. Apparently she has forgiven the princess for whatever role she had in her brother’s detonation, much to the relief of the great alicorn.

“Missed you, dam!” he calls, wrapping his forelegs around her neck and nuzzling her cheek.

“Oh, sweetie! I missed you so much!” she shouts, glomping on her baby. “How have you been, honey?”

“Good!” he excitedly shouts, barely able to keep his suddenly boundless energy contained. “I mean, it’s been super busy, but like I said in the letters, nothin like that first time. Today was way better, and we’re basically done with all the pegasi ‘cept a few who didn’t wanna make an appointment for some dumb reason,” he rants, dismissively waving a hoof to cast away their foolishness. Pausing for a half second he looks around the room. “Where’s Lemon and my grandma’s? Doin the tour?”

“Mmhmm,” she hums while nodding. “They went with everypony else. We weren’t sure exactly when you would be back.”

“Caramel hadn’t ever done the tour when we were in town before,” Brick explains.

Lucky lightly shrugs with a nod. “Ocean ‘n Pear wanted ta tag along too. An’ I didn’t know if ya wanted the little ones seein ya with yer wings and whatnot.”

“Good call. Maybe when they’re older and know what not to say,” he suggests.

As much as he wants to play favorites, he knows exactly how much it hurts to be “the other parent,” and he’d never want his sire to feel that way. Despite the urge to just wrap around his dam and stay there all night, he plants one more kiss on her cheek and leans over, latching onto his sire and squeezing him in a big hug. “Missed you, pa. The ladies been treatin ya alright?”

“Yo cous!” his uncle calls, “toss ‘em ova here once yer done hoggin ‘em!”

“Wait yer turn!” Deed hollers back. He doesn’t pass up the opportunity to smother his son, smushing the colt against his chest and nuzzling in his mane. “It’s been rough, colt. Ya know how abusive tha ladies can be.” Amethyst whips her tail, reaching around behind Vines to slap him on his rear. Deed holds his forelegs out with a “See?” expression before rolling his eyes.

“Yer lucky yer pa’s a tough one, what with all that femininity fillin up the house.” He leans down and stage whispers, “‘specially with yer dam ‘bout ready ta pop. Maker have mercy!” he exclaims with a shudder. “Can’t wait ta have ya back so I ain’t so outnumbered.” He gives the colt another squeeze, then nudges him with a fetlock. “Now go give yer moms ‘n sister some love ‘fore they get jealous ‘n take it out on me any more than they already do.”

He climbs back over his dam’s forelegs, head bonking her chest on the way, and wraps Amethyst in a hug and gets squeezed in return. A quick nuzzle later, she releases him to find his next victim. Cure turns around to see Savvy writhing and squeaking to get away from Title and the princess.

Cure hops down and lowers himself into a pounce. “Saaaavvvyyy Vennntuuure,” he growls in a deep voice, swishing his booty in the air. The filly squeals in unbridled joy, wiggling and giggling until her dam lets her go. “Saaaavvvyyy Vennntuuure,” he growls again, stalking towards his prey. His sister lets out a peal of laughter, hopping down and darting around the couch to hide on the other side. Cure takes off in mildly warm pursuit, chasing after the pink filly and calling her name, shouting, “I’mma gonna eaaat that bell-ay! Gimme that yummy filly bell-ay, Savvy!”

Squealing in delight, Savvy makes a futile attempt to escape before she’s rolled on her back by her brother. With a loud roar, the colt viciously digs into his meal, growling and nomming on the soft delicacy as its tiny hooves thrash and mercilessly kick his muzzle. Upon satisfying his predatory instincts, the colt gives her one last smooch on her tummy and hops up to wrap around Title next. “Heya, ma. Missed you,” he says, planting a kiss on her cheek.

“Aww, I missed you too, babe,” she responds, nuzzling and kissing in his mane. Savvy follows back up on the couch, glomping onto Cure’s side. “The princess has been fillin us in every night, though. Sounds like you’ve helped a lot of ponies here.”

“Yeah, like five hundred dams along with quite a few griffons, some hippogriffs, a few zebras, and even a minotaur, too. I had to make a few emergency runs once the season really hit, but we got every foal taken care of.”

“Really? That’s amazing, Cure! But I didn’t think minotaurs were on the same schedule as we are,” she says, brows furrowed in confusion.

“They normally are not,” Celestia interrupts to explain. “She is the daughter of an embassy worker, though. After living in Canterlot for so long she has apparently adjusted. The pregnancy, as I understand it, was quite the surprise, but with news of an alicorn healer planning to be present to assist with births they chose to remain in the capital rather than travel back to Minos. I believe she and her parents were quite pleased with how smoothly it went.”

“Huh… Nopony told me that. To be fair, though, I didn’t even get names on half of my patients. It was all rush, rush, rush, ya know?”

“No problems with the zebras?” Brick growls.

“No problems with anypony, grandpa. Specialist Clamor over there never even hadta give anypony ‘the look,’” he says, waving to his earth pony guardian. The stallion just smirks and shoots the colt a bro nod.

Cure scoops up Savvy on his back and makes his way to his great grandsire and uncle. Savvy refuses to let go, so after a couple careful hugs he squeezes between the two stallions on the couch. “So grandpa, I’ve been doing a little market research while I’ve been in town.” The statement gets a curious look from everypony, especially the princess. “Prince Blueblood came by for dinner last Friday and mentioned a major shortcoming of the city. One I think we could rectify.

“When he lamented the lack of a specific entertainment venue, I happened to come up with an idea that could make us a mint. I sent a message to my attorneys and found a commercial lot for sale right near the edge of the plateau to the east of here, just a little south of all the government and admin buildings.”

Brick isn’t sure what to think. The colt clearly has more going on upstairs than a foal his age oughta. His elevation to alicornhood proves that well enough if his massive financial success with his business didn’t beforehoof. At the same time, he is awfully young, and foals tend to be pretty dumb most of the time. No harm hearing him out, he supposes. “Oh yeah?”

“Yeah, ya see, he was talkin about havin his son, Blueblood the forty-sixth, teach me to golf, but expressed some disappointment that there isn’t enough room on the plateau for a course, right?”

“Uh huh.”

“So whatchya gonna do if you don’t have time to head on down to Brightwood after work? Just wait till the weekend?” he asks with a scoff.

“I… couldn’t say.”

“Gramps ain’t much of a golfer, colt. The only hole he can get tha ball in is the one he stomps it inta when he gets pissed off.”

Brick wrinkles his snout and huffs while turning away, not even making a token argument.

“Fair, but picture this, you get a plot ‘a land, build up a deck overlookin the edge, line it with tees, hire a few pegasi or griffs ta set up some floatin targets, set up a nice bar and lounge area, bam, boom you got yerself the only driving range on the mountain and an in for Brick House Fine Liquors right here in the capital.”

The grouchy stallion gets a far off, pensive look. “Huh.”

“It could probably be a restaurant during the day, too. There’s already a few over there, but if you want to get a few swings in during lunch there’s nowhere else to go. I figured it’s probably not too hard to come up with some kind of marker for the balls, then enchant a crystal to teleport them back up when they drop below a certain point, or just on a timer. If they can put a tracker on my watch it shouldn’t be too hard to put a short range one on a golf ball, after all.

“Maybe if it’s successful we can look at doin something similar in Baltimare and Fillydelphia over the coast, too, but I know golf’s a lot bigger here than it is closer to us. So… thoughts?”

Brick seemed interested enough in the idea that he suggested running it by his marketing and finance ponies to get an initial analysis started. It’s possible that the land may sell before they can finish, but both Brick and Cure agreed they would rather have a solid business plan written up instead of rushing to buy and hoping for the best.

His great grandsire agreed to Cure being a joint investor on the property if they do move forward and, even if they don’t at that location, promised the same if the market analysis shows potential in Manehattan, Fillydelphia, or Baltimare. The first probably has the most potential of the three, though the land costs would be higher near other shopping and entertainment areas in the larger city.

Celestia had gotten pulled away by a messenger shortly before the tour wrapped up, but still insisted she would be present for dinner which should be ready soon. With so many guests she’d had the large dining hall prepared for everypony.

Cure feels a little guilty taking advantage of her hospitality. He knows that the cost to feed and house everypony is utterly insignificant in the grand scheme of things, but relying on others’ generosity grates on him just like it did when his parents had to wait on him all the time. Mentally chalking it up as compensation for his services for the last two weeks alleviates much of the unease, at least.

Sat at the opposite end of the long table from the ancient alicorn, he looks around at all of his friends as he asks, “So… how was the trip?”

Most the foals offer an indifferent shrug along with some noncommittal grunts, but Rising grimaces in response.

“What’s wrong, RP? Didn’t like the sleeper room? When my folks and I came here last year we had something similar. Not as nice, even.”

“No… it’s not that.” She pauses as a unicorn waitress refills everypony’s drinks. Once the mare is finished and moves away she looks around a little uneasily and comments, “It’s just… there were a lot of guards. Just how many ponies tried to foalnap you last time?”

“Twelve. It was a mercenary band hired by a medical company,” he explains. Dawn furrows her brow at the number, her expression causing him to suspect her sire shared a few things with her he maybe shouldn’t have. Then again, she is his daughter; if he thinks she can deal with knowing it wasn’t just ponies then it’s not really Cure’s place to dispute it. While details about the attempt were suppressed he was never told that his friends couldn’t be read in. He just chose not to say anything in order to avoid stressing them.

“If you were watching the news a few weeks back you probably would have seen an article about all of ‘em being arrested. Pure Dew Pharm… wait.” Cure closes his eyes and sighs in disappointment. He leans back on his booster and looks at the ceiling, groaning and rolling his eyes. “Har har, world. Purdue. Good one.”

The other foals trade confused looks while he rubs at his forehead before continuing, “Anyhow, the bastards thought I’d end up costing ‘em enough to send a group to stop me. The moron leading the group screwed up and led guards to the ponies at the company that hired ‘em. The guards shouldn’t be necessary, but after last time we just didn’t want to risk it.”

“We only saw them when we were getting on and off the train,” Ferric quietly mentions. “They seemed nice.”

“Mmhmm!” her sister hums in agreement. “One of the unicorns even helped sissy’s and my dam with their luggage.”

Cure looks down the table, quickly finding the mares. While Sapphire is wearing a couple earrings and a necklace, Midnight and Diamond seem to have taken the opportunity to do themselves up like a pair of walking advertisements for their store. A simple gold and diamond bracelet on her left pastern must be her wedding band. The half dozen earrings, three necklaces, golden mane chain, and twin golden tail braids are just way over the top for a simple lunch.

Despite the, frankly, silly amount of jewelry, the light purple mare does look quite lovely. The emeralds and rubies throughout her adornments go well with her coat and royal blue mane. Apparently she’d packed a few outfits as well; one for hitting the town tomorrow night and another more formal affair for the coronation itself.

Diamond’s bright red coat and orange mane go really well with her shining gold regalia. Rubies, topaz, and garnet decorate her earrings, and a thick necklace with large sapphires is settled against her chest.

The idea of wearing more than the absolute bare minimum his station requires is unappealing to the colt, but he can’t deny the effectiveness of their advertising approach. A similar necklace in rubies would match Dawn’s orange coat and fiery mane or Rising’s yellow. Glacial, Drift, and Ferric would probably look better with silver or platinum, or white gold if it even exists in this world.

If not, maybe that’ll be another thing Ferric can figure out. She’s a blacksmith, not a metallurgist, but he’s pretty sure she could find a way to alloy gold with silver, platinum, or palladium. The last one may not even be considered a precious metal right now. Ed’s memories don’t tell him where the stuff is found, just that catalytic converters were stolen off of cars for the few ounces of the metal used in them.

“Wasn’t your sire there, though?” Heavy asks, glancing down at the black stallion.

“They had to put it in overhead storage,” she offers with a shrug, “Was just easier for them.”

“Hey Ferric?” he asks, turning to the filly on his immediate left, “Have you ever heard of a metal called palladium?”

She pinches her brows in thought and slowly shakes her head no. “You don’t mean platinum, do you?”

“Nah, it’s similar, but different. I think it’s really rare and not used much, so we may have to ask your sire about it. I’m wondering if it could be mixed with gold for jewelry since gold doesn’t really go as well as silver on darker coats.”

A brilliant blush climbs up the filly’s ears and all the other foals’ heads turn his direction to glance between the two. Sapphire’s grin is so wide Cure can see her back molars. “OH! MY! STARS!” she shouts, bouncing in her seat. “That is sooooo romantic!” she squeals, getting the attention of everypony clear down to the adult end of the table. “Daddy can find the ore, sissy can make it into metal, our dams can commission the band, and I can help with the gems! It’ll be perfect, Cure!”

If it was anypony but Ferric he would probably roll with it for laughs, but the filly doesn’t manage the collective attention of nearly forty ponies well, unsurprisingly. Diamond’s grin nearly matches the aqua menace’s, the extended family look like they’re ready to call for a toast, but the parents, both his and the friends’, along with the princess all seem to recognize Sapphire’s shit stirring for what it is.

Instead of watching it all play out, the colt lets out a long suffering sigh and rubs his brow with a fetlock before looking down the table and explaining, “That may be somewhat premature. I was just asking if Ferric was familiar with a metal called palladium. It’s good for jewelry like platinum,” he offers with a shrug. Diamond’s grin morphs into a pout, but the other parents all start chuckling.

“It’s not a useful metal,” Onyx offers, leaning forward to look down the table. “Tiny bits of it are usually found with platinum in a few mines up near Vanhoover, but it’s smelted out. I’m surprised you’ve even heard of the stuff.”

The parents and the princess quickly realize the colt is up to something. He looks between her and Onyx to ask, “So it doesn’t fall under the transmutation clause?”

“No. Only gold, silver, and platinum are illegal to transmute,” she hesitantly answers. << What are you up to, Cure? >> she silently Messages.

Without his horn visible he has to use his Sending crystal to respond. << Not much. It’s good for jewelry. You can alloy it with gold to get a silver-like metal. It should be extremely rare. >>

“Cool. If it’s found with platinum I bet it has similar properties,” he suggests. “It’ll just have to be another set of experiments, Red,” he assures the filly, grabbing her right hoof in his left. He gives her an encouraging smile and a TK squeeze then goes back to eating. Most of the table does the same, though Onyx and Diamond both have thoughtful looks.

“We sold most of the suits!” Glacial says in an attempt to change the subject.

“Mmhmm!” Drift eagerly hums. “All but three of the mare ones!”

“We still have a few of the dolls,” Coast adds. “A few dogs, a cat, and most of the pigs. The pigs didn’t sell as well as the others. The bears and bunnies sold quickly.”

“Aww, really?” Cure whines in disappointment. “The pigs are adorable!”

“Pigs are gross,” Rising argues, wrinkling her snout. “I told you they wouldn’t sell.”

“I thought they were cute,” he defends in a pout. “Oh well. Just mark ‘em down or give them away, I guess. How many total are left?”

“Seven,” Coast answers, “Four pigs, two dogs, one cat. Forty is probably a good price, though. They all sold but it took a few days. We marked up the ones in Mrs. Gem’s store by ten percent, but she got to keep that.”

“So y’all like thirteen hundred to share?” he asks for confirmation. Saph, Coast, Rising, and Heavy all nod. “What about you?” he asks the pegasi. “What’d you end up selling the suits for?”

The girls are sat almost across from each other, Drift on Sapphire’s left between her and Rising and Glacial to Dawn’s right beside Heavy. They share a guilty look and wince before the quiet gets too much and Glacial admits, “Four hundred.”

A beat passes as everypony waits for them to explain.

“I really hope you mean each ‘cause if you sold those for twenty a pop y’all got ripped off.”

“Each,” Drift confirms.

“Not all of them,” Dawn adds.

“Right,” Glacial nods. “A few wanted the color changed. We charged another fifty for that.”

“Nice! So like seven grand?” Both sheepishly nod. “Why do you look like you did something wrong?”

“That’s a lot of bits!” Glacial blurts out. “They worked just as hard and only made…” she pauses in thought for a second, “a fifth as much!”

Drift’s grimace doesn’t escape his notice. He shrugs helplessly and nods. “I work a few hours and make what some ponies do in a month or two. And all I’m doing is using my talent. I mean, there’s a lot to it, but the argument is the same.” He looks at the earth ponies and asks, “Do you all feel cheated by the fact that they made so much more?”

Heavy answers first, shaking his head no. “Dude, even split four ways, that’s like three hundred bits each! The most I’ve ever had before was when granddam gave me twenty at Hearth’s Warming!”

“It’s fine, Glacial,” Rising assures her. “They,” she waves between Ferric and Dawn, “didn’t really make any money at all.”

Dawn just shrugs and points out, “I make plenty with my enchanting.”

“Master Angle pays me extra for the metal I transmute. I also get a commission for the work I do.”

“Welcome to my world, ladies,” Cure calls with a smile. “If it makes you feel any better, I promise as long as we’re all friends none of ya will do without. A few grand here or there?” he asks, lazily waving his hoof dismissively and scoffing, “Please. You won’t even need to think about money. Coast,” he suddenly turns to her, jolting the filly to attention, “you like drawing right? Architecture, drafting, that kinda stuff?”

“Uhh… yeah?” she tentatively answers.

“I don’t expect blueprints, but if you’re up to it, I have an idea for a restaurant I think would do really well. I probably won’t try for a couple years, but if you’d be up for putting my ideas on paper I’ll pay you and reimburse you for any supplies.”

“Oh…kay? What kinda restaurant?”

“Something nopony’s ever tried before,” he answers with an excited grin. “I call it ‘Fast food!’ Ponies can walk up or fly down to a window, place their order, the cooks get started right away, they move to the next window to pay, and by the time they get to the third one the food’s there waiting for ‘em! It’s brilliant!” he crows, bouncing in his seat.

“What kinda food though?” Dawn asks. “Salads? Pasta? I would think that may take too long to cook.”

“No, no! I got that part planned out, but it’s also why it’ll take a few years to get ready. I’m going to make special plants just to supply the restaurant, see? I’ll need some farmland or maybe something offshore even. They’ll be sandwiches, fries, stuff that’ll only take a few minutes to cook up. I already got a name and everything!”

“You seem weirdly excited about this, dude.”

“I am! I’m going to introduce a whole new food type to the world, bro! It’ll just be the one ‘till I see how well it does, but there’ll be one in every town eventually, I bet.” He cocks his head in thought and finishes, “Probably a few in big cities, actually.”

“What’s the name?” Drift asks.

Cure reaches into his mane and pulls out an Illusion crystal. With a beaming grin he activates it, projecting an image of a pair of interlocking golden shoes, the bottom opening down and the top opening up. Another set to the right is stacked, open sides against the right of first two, one on top of the other with their curves facing right.

“Behold! The future of on-the-go dining, fillies and gentlecolts! I give you the one, the only, Hay Burger!”

Despite the slightly unsure looks from the foals, they at least acknowledged that a “fast food restaurant” is an interesting idea. Delta Coast seemed excited to draw up some sketches of Cure’s idea. The colt didn’t mention he could just print off whatever he thought would work on paper himself.

Getting usable diagrams wasn’t the point anyhow; his hope is that she’ll enjoy the exercise, get a little experience, maybe find a desire to go to school for the trade, and possibly end up with her cutie mark. Cure has a few ideas for Heavy and Dawn, but the former hasn’t really found his passion yet and the latter has only expressed an interest in being a hardflank battlemage.

Glacial is typically a fairly quiet member of the herd. She mentioned wanting to learn about being a weather pony once, but Cure has noticed a slight temperature drop once or twice when she was flapping her wings extra hard. He has some ideas to see if there's potential there, but is holding off for the time being. There's no particular rush since the filly doesn't seem overly concerned about it.

A human having even the slightest idea what they want to do with their life before twenty is a rarity. A pony still lacking their mark by that age may need to be put on suicide watch. According to Title, the stress and pressure that grows as time passes gets nearly unbearable. It’s not a situation he wants to see any of his friends go through.

Marks of Destiny and Cure’s future entrepreneurial endeavors aside, dinner was a real eye-opener for a number of the parents. Being told that a friend of their foal is about to be crowned a real Prince of Equestria is one thing. Being provided first class, guard-escorted transportation, then sitting down to dinner with Princess Celestia at the Royal Castle is completely different.

Despite the outlandishness of the claim, none of the parents seemed to strongly doubt their foal when told. After all, the viral trees they were present for the unveiling of were later credited to the new prince. That, along with the timing of the ascension lining up with their trip, was proof enough. Whipping out his horn and wings like he did for Crisp Script banished any lingering doubts.

It doesn’t escape Cure’s notice that when, and Vines’ response certainly made it seem like a when and not if, Deed knocks the mare up, he’ll effectively be in a sort-of relationship with a filly that has a sibling who is also his sibling, even if only half, biologically. For most purposes, ponies don’t differentiate between half and full siblings, or even step-siblings like Cherry and Lotus.

While bizarre to his human sensibilities, it’s actually not an uncommon situation in ponykind. When a highly desirable sire has several foals in a small community it’s nearly impossible for those colts and fillies, when older, to not have some part of their family tree bumping into itself somewhere along the lines.

It’s a concern that Sapphire and Ferric would both have given Onyx Mark’s success as a stud in Golden Hills and Baltimare. As far as society is concerned, as long as two ponies aren’t biologically related, a “we’re only technically related” relationship popping up every so often is somewhat of an inevitability.

He mentally equates it, in human terms, to the scenario where two children from the same family marry two children from a different family; i.e. an older brother dates an older sister, she brings the younger sister over, then the younger sister meets the younger brother and everything just kind of works out. It’s unusual, but neither is it unheard of, nor is it frowned upon.

Eager to show off his new room, Cure can barely keep his wings concealed despite his talent; an involuntary reaction that doesn’t go unnoticed by the ancient alicorn and amuses Rain, Snowstorm, and Thunder Dance to no end. Tailwind was unable to accompany his wife and two daughters, while Wind Shear ultimately decided to stay behind to attend Celebration parties with her coltfriend and their other friends.

Emerald, similarly, was unable to get off work at the hospital. With Solar already using leave to accompany them previously and Starlight busy with several work obligations, they were unable to attend this time. Sgt. Haze was initially under the impression he wouldn’t be able to join the group but Bulwark and Song stepped in to cover while he’s away.

Unable to contain his excitement, Cure leads everypony through the castle to the Royal Quarters, turning to talk over his withers about his first day in Cloudsdale.

“... so the camera pony has this idea for a great picture. I bet it made it to the papers in Baltimare a few days after.”

Title nods asking, “The one with all the newborns?”

“Yep! So they asked the hospital admin who then asked me if I would mind stickin around for a minute after I’m done for a photo op. I figure a little more positive PR couldn’t hurt, so I said sure.

“Well, they went around startin at about three and asked all the families there if they would mind stickin around ‘till I was done for the day. They were askin everypony in the lobby and telling ‘em to keep it quiet, so I had no idea. I guess a few wanted to take their foal home, but, ya know? Who can blame ‘em? Still, by the time I was done for the day there were like fifteen families waitin, right?”

“Looked like more ‘n fifteen foals, champ.”

“I know, pa, but the first few days in Cloudsdale were all high risk and multiple pregnancies and stuff, so several twins and a set of triplets. Anyhow, I’m thinkin I’m gonna be doin a couple quick meet’n’greet pictures for the administrators, but that’s not where they were takin me at all.”

“Sounds like they set you up,” Brick grumbles.

“Oh, come now!” Caramel scolds, brushing her side against her husband. “It’s an excellent picture and you know how important it is to have the public’s support.”

“Colt was probably wore out, grandma,” Lucky argues. “They could’a told ‘em what he was signin up for. Nopony likes surprises like that aftah a long day, feel me?”

Cure shrugs and agrees, “Yeah, I was a little tired, but since all this,” he lets the seam around his wings be visible for a split second, “I don’t really get tired like that as much. At least, nowhere near as fast.”

“Not only will using magic tire you less, but eventually you’ll find you can get by with a few hours of sleep quite easily,” Celestia explains. “During the relocation of the capital I would forgo sleep completely, sometimes for up to a week straight. I cannot say I recommend it, though,” she admits, snout scrunched at the memory. “It had some negative effects on my performance.”

Cure glances back at the princess, about to ask exactly what she means. He pauses only a fraction of a second, smiling internally when he sees her surrounded by all of the parents. His mind sometimes makes reflexive comparisons between creatures of this world and animals, but seeing them all surrounding the ‘alpha’ definitely twigs the image of a herd with its strongest member at the fore in the middle, protecting everypony around them.

It’s also heartwarming to see the princess’s subtly joyous expression. In general, nopony touches Princess Celestia. That’s not really a rule or anything, but most ponies simply don’t have the comfort level around their godqueen to risk offense by accidentally brushing against her. Aside from Prince Blueblood, he has not seen any adult pony come in physical contact with her of their own volition; not even a single time.

For what may be the first time in who-knows-how-long, she is surrounded on all sides and getting the physical interaction that many ponies get every day. Vines, Deed, and Amethyst are on her left side with his dam occasionally brushing right up against her. Title, carrying Savvy, and Lemon are on her right, not even a hoof of space between them. Behind them, allowing just enough room for the princess’s flowing tail, are all of his friends’ parents, his grandparents, and Lucky’s family.

Cure then notices that, just like the princess, he, too, is surrounded by the other foals. Lotus is on his back, Cherry and the pegasi are on his right, Dawn and Rising are on his left. Sapphire, Ferric, Coast, and Heavy, carrying Summer and Fall, are behind him.

The princess must have caught onto his look; she offers him a small smile as he asks, “Did the sun come up late a few days?”

“No, not late, but the act of raising it was far more draining. There were also a few complaints about the weather not being as warm as some ponies would have liked. Regardless, I quite enjoy my sleep, so I do not skip out on it unless there’s a very good reason.”

“That and it’s probably the only time everypony leaves you alone,” Title comments.

“There is that too,” she agrees.

“Huh. Well, anyhow,” Cure says, picking his story back up, “they lead me over to the nursery where some of the nurses had finished gettin all the foals all cleaned up and ready. At first they were gonna just have me pose behind ‘em or whatever, but then I was like, ‘They’re light enough I can hold a few on each,’” he looks meaningfully towards the younger foals, “ya know… on my dorsal appendages. Well the camera ponies just about exploded right on the spot, so I laid on my barrel with them level, then they just started arranging newborns on and all around me.

“Next thing I know I’ve got five on each… uh… limb, another five under, then they stuck a few on my back, between my forelegs, that one on my forehead… yeah, just newborns all over me. I figured some would start cryin or whatnot, but they’d all been fed and were ready for naptime. Stick a warm body next to ‘em, ya know?”

“It was adorable!” Dawn gushes, nuzzling against his neck.

“It was the most precious thing I’ve ever seen!” Vines coos. “Do you get a copy of the picture itself? The one in the paper… well, you know.”

“A little grainy, right,” he says in understanding. “Yeah, somepony,” he glances back to the smugly smiling alicorn, “had them send copies to the PR team here. Plus I could always just make a copy. With much better color, by the way.” He trots a few paces ahead of the group and nods to the guards standing beside his door. “Alright, everypony, here we are! Check this out!” he says, opening the door and darting in.

Celestia waves everypony on ahead of her and, instead, watches through the tall door. The foals run in first with his parents just behind. What they find halts them in their tracks, nearly causing a pileup at the doorway before they proceed in.

“It’s bigger’n our old house,” Deed quietly comments, strolling into the main living room area. The stallion can only assume the suite takes up two normal floors, though there’s not a second level to the huge room. A few clouds are floating about, the sight not something he’s accustomed to, but the pegasi are quick to hop up for a better vantage point.

He’s been in a few really nice homes, and the stay in the castle last time boggled the mind. The term “spared no expense” is normally used metaphorically, but Deed reckons the princess took that as some kind of challenge.

The floor is not something the stallion even recognizes; he can only guess it’s some kind of fancy stone tile merged to be a solid piece with magic, but the light green, blueish pattern reminds him of the fancy pictures of the ocean down in the gulf of New Horseleans.

The entire far wall of the room is near-seamless glass from north to south, only broken up by a door leading to the balcony with a damned impressive view of the city over the castle’s outer walls. Most of what’s visible are rooftops and a few taller government buildings, but to the north the peak of the Canterhorn climbs up into the sky. It must be breathtaking in the morning, Deed reckons.

Of course the view inside the room isn’t any less amazing; the clear indicator that this room belongs to Cure is right in the dead center. A strange, yet beautiful tree sits right in the middle inside of a large, stone planter, which itself is sat in the middle of a fountain. Arcs of water bounce all around the outside of the planter, never splashing onto the floor or in the soil.

To the right of the entrance is what looks to be a workspace for when the colt’s attending school next year. A slightly oversized desk for him to grow into, some bookshelves, and plush cushion are ready for him and a downright fancy lamp on some kind of swivel is mounted overhead on the wall.

Further down is a large free-standing pantry that the colt’s quick to open up, revealing a small fridge, a water cooler of some sort, and shelves with runic patterns like the grocer has, laden with snacks of all kinds. Apparently somepony knows how much the colt can put away, and the serving staff are probably grateful not to have to make a hundred trips a day to restock it.

A coffee maker like his unit at home is sitting on a small counter beside the pantry with a small sink nearby. Even royals generate trash, and the colt chuckles when he opens the cabinet. “And here we have the royal trash can!” he proclaims in a haughty tone. “Gaze upon mine standard, store-bought wares and know that I, too, am a commoner at heart, just as thineselves!” The mundanity of it contrasts everything else and gets some quiet laughs from the group.

A couple steps lead up to a small, but richly carved table sitting on the elevated landing by the windows. It’s perfect for four or, if tightly packed in, six ponies to share a meal, and strikes Deed as a great spot to sit and enjoy the sunrise while eating breakfast.

Just as Deed considers how blinding that could be, Cure skips over to wall behind the table and explains, “... and something I didn’t even know was possible,” he slides a switch down and the windows gain a dark tint, “you can darken the windows, either individually or all at once!” he proclaims. The display gets impressed murmurs from the group. “They’re almost impossible to see through from the other side, something I’m sure a few passing pegasi found amusing watching as I was runnin in ‘n out while investigatin.”

Closer to the entrance and to the left is a luxurious seating area, large enough to accommodate at least a dozen ponies even without piling on each other. Lighting for the room, aside from the windows, is provided by an array of wall sconces, the bottom of which glow in soft yellows. The white walls, light flooring, and expansive windowing ensure that the room is brightly lit. Decorative glass planters are also scattered about the wall in a high-to-low zig-zag pattern around the room, each one growing some kind of fancy flower or fragrant herb.

On the other side of the seating area about two meters off the western wall is a door that must lead to the colt’s bedroom and the bathroom. Deed follows behind the foals as Cure ushers them in, showing off a bed that he, all his friends, and a good portion of the group could likely pile into comfortably.

The “herd” sized beds are popular with some well-to-do earth ponies in Baltimare, but the stallion hadn’t ever seen one in pony before. It sits low to the ground, though the thickness of the mattress means the foals will still need to hop up a good bit to climb on it.

A deep green carpet covers the room and is so plush and soft, Deed is pretty sure he could sleep just fine, bed or no. The headboard itself is a work of art; spanning the entire width of the bed, it depicts a beautiful forest scene carved in dark wood. A three hoof width strip of padding sits below the scene itself, raising it up above the mattress; a common practice for unicorns, and apparently alicorns, to prevent accidental horn-inflicted damage in the night.

The colt’s barely stopped for air the whole time he’s been showing everypony around. “I have a full closet through that door,” he nods to a door set against the wall to the left of his enormous bed, “for my fancy shoes or whatever clothes I keep. I don’t really need it, but ya know, whatever. Look in here, though,” he shouts, waving his hoof to the door to the right of his bed.

His friends all happily follow him as the rest of the parents and other families explore the main room and bedroom. He swings the bathroom door open and prances in, activating the lights in the ceiling.

Deed lets out a low whistle when he sees the size of it. Just as deep as the bedroom, the bathroom is, from floor to ceiling, covered in elegant light gray slate tiles fused together with magic. The floor is slightly darker, and the texture is somewhat coarse to prevent slipping. A long, rectangular drain splits the room in half length-wise and a vent is affixed into the ceiling.

“The whole room is a big ‘ol shower, bath tub, basically,” he explains, motioning to the large, square tub that takes up the right half of the room. “There’s the fancy shower station there,” he nods to the left wall where a stall large enough for two has a half dozen heads between the walls and ceiling, “a big ‘ol tub with Sterilize and Heating and enchantments. There’s a magic-powered pump that circulates the water, too, which I’ve been takin advantage of every night.

“The actual potty is through that door,” he finishes, waving to a door on the far wall. “The tub’s deeper in the middle, but we’re tall enough to stand along the lip. Dunno how; it must go into the subfloor or whatever. I have no idea what’s below my room or how thick the floors are, but I’m guessin ‘thick.’

“The princess assured me we can make it bigger when I grow up, assumin I’m still crashin here on occasion. Shape Stone works on the tiles, so eliminating the shallow lip aught’a be easy enough with the help of a plumber. Of course it’s probably big enough for at least six adults right now, so it’ll do until I build my own place eventually.

“Right there by the mirror is a mane dryer and a bunch of gunk I don’t really need at all,” he says, motioning to the counter directly to his right with a variety of mane, coat, feather, and hoof care products. A tall bench is sat in front of it so he can hop up and be fully in front of the mirror.

“This place is awesome, dude. Are we allowed to… ya know?” Heavy asks, tilting his head towards the bedroom door. The fillies don’t hesitate to start poking around and checking the room and his bedroom out in earnest. Deed holds back a snort when Drift switches on the mane dryer. The blast of hot air in her face startles her, causing her to jump back with a yelp. Glacial rolls her eyes and flips the unit back off.

“Tomorrow while the ‘rents are out partying,” he confirms with a nod. “Gotta get some snuggle time in with my fam first though. I haven’t seen ‘em in almost two weeks.” That gets a nod of approval from the stallion. The colt’s lucky he’s not already pinned below his dam getting forcibly groomed.

“Nah, I get it dude,” the gray colt assures him. “My dam was the same way last time, and that was only a few days. Of course, there was the whole foalnapping thing.”

“Right. So yeah, assumin yer parents don’t mind ya sleepin here while yer in town. Your sisters, too, if you’re okay with that. Mine’ll be here. Mi casa es tu casa and all that.” The switch to Spanish gets confused looks, but he explains with an eye roll, “My house is your house.

“It means y’all are welcome here as long as I’m around. Yer all already on the approved list with the guards and everything. Just don’t go tryin ta sneak into the boss’s room. Dunno why, but apparently she’s a lil paranoid about foals doin that lately.”

“Hmm… wonder why,” Glacial idly remarks.

With an innocent look, Cure shrugs. “Dunno. I can tell you that if somepony kept sneakin in my room for surprise snuggles and was bringin me treats all’a the time I think I’d welcome ‘em instead ‘a bein a grouchy old fuddy duddy about it.”

An “I heard that!” reaches their ears from the entry room.

“And I’ll note ya didn’t deny it,” he sasses back at the open doorway.

A loud splash startles everypony as they whip around to find Sapphire surfacing in the tub. The aqua filly doggy paddles over to the shallower area closer to the front. She drapes her forelegs and neck over the edge and lets out a contented sigh, apparently lost in her own little world. Cure gives her a genuinely confused look and walks over, tapping a crystal on the lip of the tub. The water starts heating up and cycling, eliciting a pleased coo from the filly.

“It would probably feel better if the water was actually hot, ya know?”

“Mmhmm! Thanks, beautiful,” she says, deftly striking out to wrap her hooves around his neck to try pulling him in. Cure, knowing how nutty the girl can be, had prepared for exactly that. Firmly rooted to the ground, he smirks victoriously at her.

“Nice try, Saph,” he taunts. She gives him a pout for a second, then reaches out and gives him a big, wet lick right across his lips. Deed barks out a laugh when, caught completely off guard, Cure is yanked right off his hooves and into the tub, landing on top of the filly in a splash of flailing legs and wings as she falls back into the deeper water.

Ferric’s hoof shoots up to her face as Dawn squawks in outrage. Everypony else starts cracking up at the wet dog scowl Cure gives the laughing girl when he resurfaces. Upon hearing the commotion, several other parents’ heads poke around the doorframe to check on the group. “Everypony okay in here?” Lemon asks, quickly piecing together roughly what happened.

“They’re fine, babe,” Deed assures her.

Drift grins mischievously and points a wing at the pair. “Cure and Saph were makin out so hard they fell in the tub. There was tongue and everything! He even has a wingie!”

“Be sure you take re-spon-si-bil-ity!” is sung out from somewhere behind the yellow mare, followed by the filly’s sire offering his thanks to the maker.

Cure lets out another sigh, leaning against the edge. “Well… it wasn’t quite what I planned, but if y’all want a soak before bed,” he waves a wing over the tub, “there’s plenty of room and the water’s… eh, it’ll be nicer in a couple minutes.”

“How was the train car?”

“It was fine, sweetie. The marquis didn’t do anything.”

Cure nods in acceptance, letting out a relieved sigh. “Good. I’m not really sure what I could do if he’d done something anyhow. That may be the worst part of all this,” he says as he vaguely waves around with his free wing.

After everypony got a tour of his room they spent a while hanging out on the balcony and looking over the city. Eventually everypony said their farewells for the evening and left the family to themselves.

Aware that he won’t exactly be “the baby” any longer, Cure takes the opportunity to snuggle between his dam’s forelegs, his snout nuzzled against her chin. All three girls are out cold, each one between their dams’ forelegs as they sit side-by-side in front of them. Deed is half spooning his first wife facing the other direction while using her right haunch as a pillow.

“I can’t really take direct action against anypony. Not that there’s a lot I could have done before anyhow,” he grumbles.

“Let it go, champ. He ain’t done nothin ‘cept made an offhoof comment.”

“The car we had was nice,” Lemon adds in agreement. “Same kind we had last time, but with just the eight of us it was a lot quieter.”

“Boring, you mean,” Title amends.

“Boring is good,” he argues.

“Better’n last time,” Deed easily agrees, “y’all slept through it, babe. In spite’a the colt’s confidence I didn’t know if we were gonna survive ‘till I saw them minotaurs keelin over. Not that I didn’t have faith in ya, son, but ya never know ‘till ya know, ya know?”

“I get it, pa. If I’d known it would be as easy as it was I wouldn’t have been as worried either. And just a heads up, Merryland’s apparently not the only one with doubts. Celestia said several nobles are under the impression that I’m, in her words, a pretender with a powerful talent that’s being inserted above them to weaken their positions.”

He gives a helpless shrug and continues, “I may have killed that argument already. I’ve had to go a bit beyond normal healing a few times, so if there’s any noble spies in the hospitals then they may second guess their stance.”

“What did you do?” Vines asks. Her tone is one of curiosity, but the hint of worry creeps in regardless.

Ears pinning of their own volition, Cure scrunches his snout and answers, “I saved eleven stillborn foals. Two separate twins, then nine others. Three pegasus fillies, a pegasus colt, a unicorn and bat of each sex, two hippogriff fillies, and a griffon cub. Every newborn in both cities was born alive and I healed the few that had identified health issues. I foresee a fight to have me on-site in other cities in the future.”

“Fuck me sideways, Cure,” Amethyst quietly exclaims. Vines gives her a weak glare at the language. “Ya don’t do nothin by half measures, do ya?”

Lemon blows out a low whistle. “I’m surprised that hasn’t been in the news yet.”

“The princess is letting it leak tomorrow. The latter part, that is, not that the foals were technically deceased before I got to ‘em. She wants it to be in the papers on the day of my coronation for the special editions. The rest is confidential. She told me earlier that, if anything, the foals are better than average, magically, I mean. Even the griffs, apparently. I didn’t have time to get the full details; she just told me when I was walking with her after I got back.”

“Should I get Savvy checked?”

“I mean, I wasn’t an alicorn at the time. Couldn’t hurt, though.”

“True…”

“Are you okay, sweetie?” Vines squeezes her son a little tighter.

“Yeah, I guess,” he weakly says, shrugging against her. “The only other option was to let almost a dozen foals die. Stay dead. Whatever. I don’t need to point out how hard that would be on a family. As long as we’re not going to have a zombie apocalypse we should be fine.” A worried look crosses the features of three mares he can see. “Celestia is having them monitored. Like I said, so far the only difference is that they have slightly more magic, apparently.”

“Huh.” Deed makes the only thoughtful utterance, but everypony else is clearly pondering on the situation as well.

“Also, I read her in on almost everything. I’m sure I forgot a few tidbits here and there, but she knows basically everything now. Turns out you weren’t quite spot on about hippogriffs, pa.”

“Oh?”

“Yeah, see, they can have foals of any kind, depending…” The five sit and listen as Cure gives them the same run-down he’d gotten from the princess. “... and is, uncreatively, named Hippogriffia. I guess we can’t really cast stones in that department, but still. We’ve apparently fallen out of touch with them for the last few centuries ‘cause they didn’t appreciate some liaison playin hide the salami with their prince.”

“I think I know what ya mean,” Lemon starts, “but what’s salami?”

Cure snorts and starts laughing, then twists his head enough to extend his horn without poking his dam. He projects an image of a log of salami for the parents who take a moment to process what they’re seeing before bursting out laughing themselves. Even his dam, despite her efforts, shakes against his back lightly with a giggle. “I think it was made of pig, usually. It’s good when cut into thin slices. Too much salt in it for much more at a time. A Griffon restaurant I tried has something like it.

“Honestly, between the beak, the tongue spines, the talons, and the anatomy back there, I’m just not seein the attraction,” he continues. “I mean, I guess in a way they’re kinda pretty looking, what with the feathers and the slim builds they have, but… ugh… how would that even work?” He can’t even stop his snout from wrinkling in disgust. “Whatever, to each their own, I guess. I shouldn’t judge.”

“Anatomy?” Title questions. “Are hippogriff stallions’ weiners different?”

Deed and Amethyst crack up while Lemon gently explains, “I don’t think that’s the ‘back there’ he meant, T.”

The pink mare furrows her brow in thought as everypony but Vines chuckles. Her face gets a sudden, horrified look before she winces and does a full-body shudder. “EEW! Why would anypony?!” she trails off in question.

“No clue, ma. Human anatomy isn’t the same. It is physically… uhh different, I guess, for them, but even still Ed and Cyndi only tried a couple times. It was an evening ender once and just not very fun the other. There’s a much better spot for that just a half hoof away anyhow.”

He gets a hard squeeze from his dam, scolding him with a soft, “Don’t be crass.” He rolls his eyes, retracts his horn, and snuggles back into her neck.

“So anyhow,” he continues, “not everything is totally off and the boss lady is aware of everything. We talked for a while. Now that I’m an alicorn I need to be much more careful about what I say, even when we’re back home. Apparently I have more metaphysical ‘weight,’ or I will in a few years, so until I can use her privacy spell no more of those conversations.”

“That sucks,” Title complains.

“Makes sense, though,” Amethyst agrees. “What’s the story with that golfin thing ya went on about?” Lemon gives her first wife a questioning look since she wasn’t in the room at the time, so Amethyst gives her a quick rundown.

“There were places like that. They were total money farms. Grandpa has the legal know-how and the means to make it happen. I figure tossing him an idea like that couldn’t hurt, and he at least seemed interested. Speaking of finances, though, I’m basically tax exempt for life after this quarter. I made a few changes to the Origin and Blood trees and the National Health Authority approved them both for use. I got word that the first round of crops the boss swiped got approved too.”

“Good job, Cure!” Title cheers. “How’s that going to work with your tax pony and the two identity thing?”

“Dunno. I’m guessing they’ll get a letter saying the what but not the why. Even Audit may be in the know anyhow; I did briefly mention my trees when we met that first time.”

“Oh yeah. Eh, I’m sure she didn’t catch that. You kinda left her a little frazzled anyhow. No taxes, though? That’s awesome.”

“Yep, it’s a thirty-five, forty percent raise,” he readily agrees. “Anything happening at home while I’ve been gone?”

“Not much,” Lemon answers, “just some rowdiness down at the pub last week.”

Deed snorts behind Cure and his dam before speaking up. “A few farmer mares got inta a scuffle, that’s all. Arguing ‘bout a stallion or whatnot ‘till they got too far inta their cups and got tossed inta the street. Sgt. Song showed up ta separate ‘em ‘n the big one got lippy with the ‘lil bat mare what thinks she’s somethin.’” Cure winces at the expected result of that. “She shot one with a Stun ‘n had tha other on her back in cuffs ‘fore she knew what was what.”

“Sounds like ‘bout what I’d expect,” he chuckles.

“How was the flight here, honey?” Vines asks with a squeeze. “The messenger came by much earlier than we expected.”

“It was awesome! I mean… flying always is, but being able to just cut loose? Words escape me, dam. The guards that were with me just about begged me to let ‘em join me whenever I go on long flights. I think they’re almost as eager for the flight back as they are for tomorrow night.”

“That’s something I wanted to talk to you about,” Title hesitantly starts. “I’ve been thinking about it even before she was born. We,” she motions between herself and his sire, “have talked it over a few times. While she’s young enough not to remember… would you be willing to give Savvy wings?”

To Title’s relief, Cure instantly agrees. “Sure. When we get home I’ll start converting her cells and grow ‘em out. Or just transplant some of my plant material. The only ponies that’ll know are already in the know with all this, so why not?”

“The princess,” Amethyst answers. “She said ta keep that kinda stuff under wraps.”

Cure dismisses the suggestion with a flick of his wing. “She asked us to keep quiet about it. We still will be. Everypony else will just assume she had wings under her onesie all along. When she’s older either this’ll all be public or anypony that sees Earth Pony on her records will write it off as an error.”

He nuzzles up against his dam and adds, “I also need to undo some of your more noticeable changes like the spinnerets and horn for when you give birth. Nothing else overly strange should show up on the scan, and I think we want to avoid answering a bunch of questions about any weirdness.”

“That’s fine, honey,” she easily agrees. Looking between her husband and wife, she adds, “Savvy will be as tall as the rest of us, you do realize? They’ll probably think she has mixed blood.”

“That could explain why she won’t have pegasus magic too,” Title agrees. “Sounds good to me.”

“If you want,” he suggests, “we could do the same for the twins right now and their birth certificates will indicate both tribes. They’ll develop the instincts for flying naturally as they grow up.” He pauses to look at the two. “I could probably have the records changed later if you’re not sure right now. Thoughts?”

“I… don’t know,” she admits, clearly torn on the subject. “Sweetie?” she calls, turning to look at his sire. “We didn’t talk about doing that for the twins.”

“I say do it,” Deed instantly suggests. “All’a the same points apply, babe. They’ll be ours either way.”

“Even if they only rarely fly it’ll be good for them,” Cure argues. “After spending two weeks in the capital I can’t imagine getting around without mine. Carriages suck and walking on the crowded streets can be a pain. I’ve scanned hundreds of pegasus foals in utero, so I know exactly what to do.”

Cure hates pressuring his dam about this, but the idea of not giving his siblings wings when there’s no reason they can’t have them just seems dumb. They’ll still have all of the advantages an earth pony has, they’ll just also be able to fly. He can feel her worrying her hooves as she thinks it over, pretty sure he already knows her answer.

“No. If they want that when they’re older, that’s fine. I don’t want to do something like that before they’re able to choose, especially before they’re even born.”

Cure waits a second to see if his sire speaks up, but silence is his only answer. “Okay. Well if you’re still planning on having them tomorrow the princess said the castle physician will be ready in the morning before I head back out.”

“Sure are, champ.”

“I’m ready, sweetheart. I hope you’re not upset, having them before…” she trails off at his eye roll.

“Not the slightest bit. Don’t be ridiculous. It just sucks that I’ll hafta bail on ya right afterwards.” Shrugging, he adds, “Nature of the job, I guess. Are you planning on going out to party tomorrow night?”

Lemon, Title, and Amethyst look with pleading eyes while nodding in anticipation. The green mare looks at her wives unsure, worrying her lip in consideration. “I don’t know,” she hesitates.

“The foal’s have literally the best care in the world here, dam. I can even watch ‘em and feed them with my plants if it’ll make ya feel better.”

“It’ll be their first night, though,” she protests.

“They’re in a castle, V, with royal nursemaids and your son watchin over ‘em. The Celebration won’t be here again for decades an’ this’n’ll be crazy ‘cause’a the colt,” Amethyst argues, motioning to Cure.

Lemon enthusiastically agrees, adding her thoughts to the discussion. “It’ll be the biggest, wildest party the city will see for a long time, right?” she asks, reaching out to poke his wing.

“Right. Nothing I do should have any impact. I hope.” He doesn’t say anything more due to the concerns about discussing future events.

“We’re going, babe,” Deed confirms with finality to the excited cheers of the other three. “The princess said she could have a squad followin us ‘n keeping a discreet eye out if we wanted ta. Thunder Dance, Snowstorm Burst, and my granddam will still be here.”

Vines releases a deep sigh, nodding in acceptance. “Fine. I suppose it would be a shame to miss out on it.” She nuzzles into Cure’s mane between his ears. “Keep an eye on them for me?”

“You bet. Hey, how would you all feel about takin the boss lady with ya when you go out? In disguise,” he quickly adds. “You see how ponies treat her. Hell, you see how you treat her. She needs some good, healthy, normal socializing.”

Title and Lemon both light up at the suggestion, but Amethyst, Deed, and Vines seem unsure.

“You think she’d want ta, colt? That just seems…”

“Odd,” Vines volunteers. “I can’t picture her highness going out and drinking or dancing with us.”

“I’m more worried bout her being… ya know,” Amethyst says, rolling her hoof leadingly.

“A stick in the mud?” Cure guesses.

The dark mare points, “Bingo. Does she even like to go out?”

“I’d think she’d be a lil… judgy?” Deed pauses to lean back in thought before shrugging, “Dunno, I guess that works.”

“First off,” Cure answers, “I’m pretty sure she would like to, but remember the whole ‘martyr complex’ thing? The problem is getting her to let herself have fun. Get a drink or two in her and I bet she’d loosen right up. I keep telling everypony; she’s basically just like everypony else. Just kinda socially isolated and maybe a little attention starved. At least, casual social attention starved.”

“Are you three nuts?!” Lemon asks in a raised voice. “I bet she has awesome stories and stuff! She would be a riot if she opened up a little.”

“Besides,” Title adds, “Cure’s right. Does she even have actual friends?”

“I think she has some ponies she considers friends, but I’d call them professional acquaintances or perhaps confidants. I haven’t seen anypony so far that I can imagine her just going out to hang out with and get drunk or whatever.”

“Can she?” Title asks. “Get drunk, I mean?”

“Sure. Our brains work the same. A tad faster and I’ve noticed my memory is better, though. That’s probably a necessity with a longer life. It may take a lot more due to her mass and metabolism, but we can get drunk. How about I go ask her if she’d be interested?”

“Think she’d more likely agree if it was you asking?” Title guesses.

“Much,” he agrees with a nod. “Be right back.” He stands up, nuzzles his dam again, then hops and glides to the door. After exiting his room he gives a quick greeting to the guards and knocks on the princess’s door.

A muffled “Enter” prompts the guard to open the door for him.

“Yo, boss lady,” he greets as the door shuts behind him. Celestia is laid on her bed reading, still wearing her regalia and crown since she has not yet lowered the sun.

“Good evening, Cure. Is something wrong?”

“Nope, all’s well.” The colt trots into the room up to her bed and rests his chin on the mattress, barely tall enough to reach without rearing up. “You got plans for tomorrow, boss?”

“Plans? You mean for the evening?”

“Mmhmm, or later. Got some snooty event ya gotta make an appearance at or anything?”

She sets her book aside, noting the page and closing it. “I’ve been invited to a few social gatherings, but I wasn’t planning on going anywhere. Why? Surely you and your friends will be in well before nightfall.”

“We will, but the folks are gonna hit the town. And yer goin with ‘em.”

“Pardon?”

“I’m assuming you can do a unicorn disguise easily enough, right?”

“Of course, but -”

“But nothin, boss. You don’t go out and have fun often enough. You’re gonna go out, have a drink or two, and shake yer rear on the dance floor.”

“Shake my rear?” she scoffs.

“What? Too dignified ta dance, princess?” he asks, smirking up at her. “How about Sunny Skies? Is she too ‘royal’ also? What about Sol Gloria? Does she know how to tango?”

Celestia shakes her head. “Sol Gloria? Not even close. Regardless,” she continues, staring down at the impetuous colt, “while I enjoy spending time with my little ponies, I do not go out and ‘shake my rear’ while doing so.”

“Why not?” The genuinely curious tone leaves the eldritch mare off balance. “Seriously, is there any reason at all why you couldn’t? The only ponies that would know would be my parents. The other foals’ parents don’t need to. Pretend to be a member of the serving staff they met today and go join them for a night of fun. I promise your throne will still be there the next morning.”

“But there’s so much to do and with the coronation…”

He gives her an incredulous look. “You’re trying to say there’s something that needs taken care of for Saturday morning that hasn’t already been addressed and you’re going to be working on it on Friday night?! Really, princess?”

“It never hurts to double, or quadruple, check that everything is in place,” she weakly argues.

Cure scoots his head further into the mattress, looking up at the princess with big, puppy dog eyes. He activates his tear ducts for the watery look and droops ears as he begs, “Pweeeeeze, pwincess? Just go be a normal pony and have fun? For me? You can leave if you hate it. It’ll be good for ya.”

She lets out a deep sigh, rolling the idea around in her head while doing her best not to look at the little terror. After nearly a minute of deliberating, she finally acquiesces to his request. “Very well. I suppose I can join them. It has been a while since I’ve gone out, and it would be nice to have company while doing so.”

“Awesome!” he excitedly cheers, releasing her from his vicious mind control attack. As he’s walking back to the door he calls over his withers, “I’ll have ‘em pick ya up at yer place ‘round sunset?”

Chuckling, the princess nods in acceptance. “That does seem more convenient than theirs. Goodnight, Cure.”

“Goodnight, princess. Bed. Bugs. Etcetera,” he calls, zipping out the door.

Author's Note

As I've been saying for the last month or so, the story will officially be on hiatus for the next three weeks. That ominous "big life change" did go through, so the next 5ish weeks are gonna suuuuuuuck.

I don't anticipate it gravely effecting my posting schedule, but I'm also not going to make any promises that it won't. If it does then I will at least let everyone know when I post 79 on 9/18.

I'm sure everyone kind of saw the whole "Hay Burger" thing coming from Cure's comments over the last two chapters. Well... yeah. The first hint of this was clear back Chapter 16. The driving range idea was much more spontaneous, but... well, it was just too good to pass up. Frankly, it sounds like a hell of a lot of fun to me, so I'm sure Cure wouldn't pass the opportunity to introduce a fun new take on, IMHO, a relatively boring sport.

There's a big victory for Cure there at the end. It's taken a couple weeks of treating the boss lady like a real live pony, but it looks like she might be finally willing to live a little instead of just existing. Now if only he could trick her into accepting a massage and falling asleep in a big cuddle pile of foals...

Oh well, maybe some day. As always, thanks for reading and, especially, for commenting / rating / etc. I hope everyone has a good few weeks. See ya in about a month, everyone!

Chapter 79: Proper Service (NSFW)

Saturday, June 20th, 909 AB (Approx. 30 hours later)
Four in the morning

Today is going to fucking suck sweaty donkey balls.

It’s not often that Cure’s first thoughts upon waking are so negative, but he feels justified as his bedroom door cracks open.

“Go ‘way!” The grumble from Rising doesn’t dissuade the intruder in the least, despite the mumbled round of agreements voiced and grunted out by all of the other foals.

The colt hadn’t been terribly successful at getting real sleep the night before. That’s not a surprise given the significance of the date, the presence of his newborn siblings, as well as the agenda for the next eighteen hours. A few brief minutes of drifting into slumber, only to snap back to wakefulness at the encroaching nightmares would make for a long night for anypony. Anyone.

He reluctantly lifts his head off of Glacial’s back, looking over at the cribs; one with Savvy and the other with his twin siblings, all three snoozing away peacefully. As much as he wants to snuggle with them, a bed full of older foals just isn’t a safe spot for them to sleep. The birth had been an extremely quick and easy affair for his dam, and resulted in Dr. Bran awkwardly asking if Cure would give her the same muscle enhancements Vines had received.

Lacking any real reason to say no and recognizing the favor as a good way to ensure the doctor’s discretion should the need arise, the colt shared the Boa Constrictor Vagina Mk. I with the mare, silently hoping the maker grants whatever poor/fortunate stallion she decides to test drive it with the best of luck.

His brother was born first. Just like Cure himself, he has a magnificent blue coat, though he got Vines’ yellow mane instead of big bro’s luscious green. Cure isn’t sure what to think about the colt’s name. On one hoof, Trail Blazer sounds kind of badass. On another, Ed had owned one of the fuel hogs in the late 90’s, and even if it was a pretty reliable ride, he wouldn’t want to be named after it. Hopefully the colt will have a knack for leadership instead of a solid frame with decent cargo space in the back.

Yellow manes are apparently “in” this year, as his sister also inherited that from her dam. Golden Roads’ coat definitely came from her sire, though, and the chocolate brown goes quite well with the yellow. Goldie seems content to lay across her brother, and Blaze doesn’t seem to mind his sister’s weight on his withers one bit.

Cure isn’t sure if twins are fine sleeping together, but there were enough anecdotal stories of them being “connected” on Earth that he figured it should be fine, especially with him nearby. His parents agreed and, thanks to his restless sleep, he was able to keep an eye on them, feed them, and Clean them up by himself as needed.

Getting a separate crib for Savvy had nearly taken invoking his still debatable princely authority. The royal nursemaids insisted having all three in one would be fine, but Ed’s memories were very clear that, normally, each child should have their own. No matter how lovey she was with the pair, her being slightly over twice their weight made it a no-brainer for the colt.

Cure has never heard of SIDS in this world, but it’s not like there’s any reason to roll the dice. His friends gave him some funny looks when he used his talent to make a rudimentary ceiling fan and slapped a Spin crystal into it, but everypony seemed to enjoy the light breeze it generated. He just feels a little guilty for not thinking of it back when Savvy was born.

A quick scan shows all three are the very definition of health and their onesies are keeping them at just the right temperature.

The door finally cracks open, spilling light in the room as his and Savvy’s dams slip in, giving him warm smiles before making their way to the smaller foals.

Other parents start entering the room to retrieve and check on their foals. Snowstorm gives him a beautiful smile as she hops up on the bed to nose at Glacial and Frigid Gaze. Drift lets out a whiney groan when Thunder does the same with her and Swirling Leaf. Gleaming Haze, Crisp Script, Level Plane (Coast’s dam), Onyx Mark, and Silver Vein less quietly make their way in to claim Dawn, Rising, Coast, Ferric, Sapphire, Heavy, and his sisters.

With no small amount of grumbling everypony else starts disentangling from each other, reluctantly climbing out of bed, only to get scooped up by or squeezed against the side of their waiting parents.

Vines coos and babbles at the twins for a moment while everypony heads out to get cleaned up for the day. “How were they for you?” she asks as she makes her way over to the nearly empty bed. Only Cherry and Lotus are still with him, both still sound asleep despite all of the movement in the room.

“Great! Barely heard a peep from ‘em ‘till about an hour ago. Savvy wasn’t happy I woke her up to feed her, but she ate and went potty before conking out again. Did you stay out all night?”

“Yeah,” his mom answers as she reaches down to nuzzle her filly. “Just got in a bit ago to fetch ya for the princess. She’s gonna need your help. The rest of us are fine,” she adds with a mischievous giggle. “We had to stop the serving staff from waking everypony, but I’m sure they’ll be at her door soon, so…” she rolls her hoof to say “get moving.”

Vines gives her wife a disappointed look and scolds her. “It isn’t funny. She is probably going to feel awful, the poor thing.” She turns to Cure and explains, “Your foalish sire and the other two got into somewhat of a drinking match with her. She figured if they could drink that much and be okay then she would be too. It didn’t go so well for her, even if she seemed to be enjoying herself.”

Cure is utterly flabbergasted at the suggestion that his parents went drink-for-drink with Celestia. “Dad, Amy, and Lemon outdrank the princess?! That’s imposs… wait,” he pauses as realization dawns on him.

Title nods, confirming his suspicion with a laugh. “Yeah, turns out that anti-poison gland works pretty well on alcohol too. Deed ended up carrying her to our room. All four of them are there waiting for you. Thank the maker her disguise held, but I think your sire is getting something of a reputation as a mareslayer ‘round here.”

“He’s got four wives and they all happily watched him carry an attractive, unconscious unicorn back to his room,” he agrees while nodding. “I could see that. None of the guards gave you any trouble, bringing an unknown mare in here?”

“No. Not a one said anything. We got some odd looks, but that’s all. And she… wasn’t unconscious, unfortunately,” Vines corrects with a grimace.

“Yep, turns out the drunker she is the more old fashioned she talks. She also occasionally slipped into Old Ponish, which was hilarious.” Shuddering, the pink mare adds, “And the more she likes to try to sing. She wasn’t exaggerating about how bad she is.”

“Aww, damnit! I knew I should’ve snuck out and joined ya!” he pouts, giving his bed a weak stomp. “Ah well, that’s okay. Glad to hear she had fun, at least. We better get some food and water in her; today’s gonna suck enough as-is.”

“We asked for them to send a few pitchers and some fresh bread to our room on the way here, honey. I’m sure she’ll be thrilled if you could fix her up.”

“Alright. I’ll go check her out.”

Before he can turn to leave he’s scooped up by his dam and held against her chest. “How are you doing, sweetie? I know today…”

He sighs and leans into her chest, wrapping his neck around hers and resting his chin in her mane. “I’ll be okay, dam. I have plenty to keep my mind occupied, so don’t worry about me. Just gotta keep movin forward.”

With one last squeeze she sets him down, planting a kiss between his ears. She doesn’t really believe that he’s okay, but if he isn’t willing to talk about it, now isn’t a very good time to dredge it up. He goes in for a quick nuzzle with his mom before heading out. The pink mare leans down right next to his ear and quietly whispers, “You going to do it?”

Cure cracks a grin and gives a tiny nod, getting a quickly suppressed snicker from the mare. With a quick nuzzle he trots out the door, alters his appearance, and begins making his way through the palace halls to the guest suites.

The palace is abuzz with activity despite the early hour; unsurprising given the upcoming events. Guards are patrolling in immaculately polished armor, cleaning staff are giving a final once-over, and service staff shoot all over doing their last minute checks.

Cure can understand Grandpa Brick’s point about acknowledging everypony. He counts no less than sixty ponies he’s passed just on the short walk to the guest wing.

A serving mare pushing a cart is just about to knock on his parents’ door. She pauses as Cure approaches and tells her he’ll take it from there. A couple knocks and a brief pause later he pushes the door open and tugs the cart in behind himself. “Pa? Moms? Princess?” He knows they’re in the bedroom, but he also knows that barging into somepony’s bedroom without announcing one’s self is a horrible idea in general.

“Come on in, champ,” Deed calls.

He grabs the door in his telekinesis and pushes it open, shocked at what he finds. On the bed is the, now undisguised, princess, laid on her barrel with his moms pulled tight against her sides, one under each wing. His sire has the dubious honor of being the royal pillow, laid half on his side with the princess sleeping on his right flank and chest flat on the bed. Lemon, on the princess’s left side, looks like her face is crammed just about right in his crotch and Amethyst's is nuzzling into his chest.

Disappointingly, Celestia isn’t doing the drunk snore or anything. Cure would be shocked if she did; it’s not like there’s anything obstructing her airway at all, but it would make for a hilarious story at some point years down the road. He supposes the boss lady going out and getting shitfaced with his folks will have to do for now, though he has no intentions of giving her a hard time over it for the foreseeable future.

He hops on the bed and looks at the three mares, motioning to the ones on either side. “Are they drunk too?”

Deed wobbles his hoof in a so-so motion. “A little, maybe. Yer thingamajig took tha edge off’a it but after a couple liters I think we overpowered it. I know we gotta get movin soon, but an hour ‘a shuteye ought’a do ‘em some good.”

“Yeah, probably, but I really don’t think she,” he motions to the alicorn, “has time. I’m gonna have to focus on the princess, here, pa. They don’t need to do much today, so they can take it easy. I just can’t believe she got hammered like this. Usually you find your limit, ya know?”

“I don’t think tha princess is used ta drinkin so much, son. Maybe some wine or brandy, but them sweet drinks… they sneak up on ya. None of us thought’a yer thing ‘till she was three sheets to tha wind.”

“I’m guessin you just never noticed when ya went out to the Tilted Wagon on Fridays?”

Deed shrugs and gives a small nod, “Not really, no. A few beers over a couple hours don’t do much anyhow.”

Cure nods in acceptance, looking over the prone form of the princess. “I’m definitely saving this in the ‘ol memory vault. Drunk or not, this is downright adorable. It just sucks I can’t draw anything on her face and take a picture, but at least I can fake one later if I wanna.”

Cure looks over her again and lets out a sigh. “I’m not terribly fond of being in a situation where I can’t even ask her if she’s okay with me doin this, but I don’t think she’ll be too upset with me. Can’t friggin believe I’m bout to tinker with the boss lady’s brain.” The comment gets a very concerned look from his sire, so he clarifies, “Not the brain itself, just how it’s dealin with the booze. C’mon now, really?”

“Gotta work on the wordin there, champ. I don’t think anypony would not react to that.”

“Fair enough,” he agrees. He walks around his sire, nuzzling the stallion’s neck along the way, and leans over his back to rest a hoof on her cheek.

“Princess? Time to wake up, sleepy head.” Cure reaches out with his talent, checking all the typical vitals. “Sucks I can’t target individual molecules,” he comments, “but at least I can turn her metabolism up to eleven and add in a… well… basically, a miniature liver right there in her carotid. She’ll still legally be drunk for a while, but it won’t be able to reach the brain meats.”

“Sounds fascinatin, colt. Will that wake her? I mean… this ain’t uncomfortable, but like ya said… things ta do an’ all that.”

“Ehh, I’ll tweak her adrenal gland a bit just to turn it down while I work here. The reduction in dopamine and serotonin should do the trick. Boss lady’s big enough that even with the whole alicorn thing she’s a lot’a pony, ya know? I ain’t got the juice to clean her system up all the way.”

“Right, I remember ya talkin ‘bout fixin up Amy a while back.”

“Mmhmm. I’ve got about nine times the magic, but if you recall, I figured I’d have to give her several treatments. Her body’s natural processes took over, but what I’m doin right here isn’t exactly a natural process, feel me? That was siccing her own body on a foreign invader; this is makin changes to her body. I don’t think it’s gonna take that change and ‘run with it’ like hers did.”

“Gotchya. So… an hour or two?”

“Nah, her noggin will be cleared up in a few minutes. Wakin her up may be a challenge though.”

“Well colt, she is a princess. I dunno how they did it in them memories ’a yers, but some of them old fables had a surefire way’a doin it.” Cure turns to glare at Deed as the stallion puckers his lips and makes exaggerated kissing noises.

“I will make your face stick like that, old timer.”

The empty threat gets a chuckle out of his sire. “I don’t know what yer dam may think walkin in here findin my face stuck like that given our positions. Sure would be a sight, though.”

Cure rolls his eyes at the stallion, focusing back on the task before him. “So, wakin her up… I know how to do it, I think, but I’d prefer she woke up naturally. I’d really like to get some water in her though.”

“Can’t ya just, ya know… help her drink it?”

“Like, pour it in her mouth and stimulate her pharynx and esophagus?”

Deed looks a little unsure about the process, but trusts the colt knows what he’s talking about. “Umm. Sure,” he agrees with a shrug. “Sounds right ta me. Won’t go in her lungs would it? Don’t know if y’all can get pneumonia or not.”

“Nah, as long as her mouth isn’t gnarly, clear water is safe anyhow. I’m just worried she could wake up with her snout in water and panic.” He looks at his sire laying across the alicorn’s forelegs and shudders at the thought of how ugly an instinctive drowning response could be, given their arrangement. Deed is likely tough enough he should be fine if she kept things physical, but the princess is a terrifyingly powerful magic user, so predicting her panicked response isn’t that simple. “Just give her a few, pa. I don’t want her to freak out thinkin she’s drownin and… I dunno, teleport all of us a hundred meters straight up or bust out the solar flare or something.”

A grimace and quick, agreeing nod later, the stallion patiently waits for his son to rouse the mare.

Cure continues gently petting her neck and cheek while calling out. It only takes a minute before her breathing changes and her eyes start to flutter open. “Yer safe, princess,” the colt quickly assures her. “Sorry I couldn’t ask permission, but I’ve used my talent on you ta fix ya up faster. Want some water?”

“Ugh. Please,” she immediately responds, not moving other than to slightly lift her head. Cure floats over a pitcher which she takes in her magic and quickly drains, then does the same with a second one. Somewhat hydrated, she sighs and lays her head back across her pillow, uncaring that it’s one of her little ponies.

Deed gives the colt an amused look, but Cure quickly shakes his head to prevent the stallion from saying anything. He certainly doesn’t want to discourage the princess from trying to have fun in the future, and his sire teasing the mare would not be conducive to that goal.

She takes another moment to rest, blowing out another deep sigh. Finally waking enough to function, she lifts her head and looks at the dark stallion laying across her forelegs, then glances left and right at the snoozing mares. “What happened?” she groggily inquires.

“What’s the last thing ya remember, highness?”

She frowns in thought, considering the question for a moment. “Singers… and music. And ordering some fruity drinks.” Ears sagging, she nearly whines, “They didn’t taste like they had any alcohol in them, though!”

“They definitely did,” Cure insists. “Probably a lot more than whatever you’re used to drinking does.”

She looks at the seemingly unaffected stallion. “How are you okay?!”

“The colt,” he answers, assured that it would be an appropriate answer to nearly any question she could be asking him.

She turns her attention back to Cure who clarifies, “When we came for the show I gave everypony a gland that produces antivenoms and antitoxins. It reacts kinda like an immune system would. Apparently it works pretty well on alcohol.” He glances at Amethyst under the princess’s right wing before turning back. “Not perfectly, I guess, but if they kept up with you I think it’s good enough.”

“Apparently so,” she agrees. She tilts her head back and checks the time, sighing a third time in only a few minutes. “We need to start getting ready. If you would, please, Mr. Deed?”

“You bet, highness,” he says, lifting up enough for her to pull her legs free before lowering back down. “Nopony knows yer here, princess,” he explains. “Yer disguise held till ya passed out on tha bed. If ya teleport to yer room nopony’ll be the wiser.”

“Yup,” Cure seconds, “dam and mom came and got me before the staff made their way up, but you may wanna hurry.”

“That is a relief. Thank you for being so considerate. I must apologize for my -”

“Ah-ah, no!” Deed interrupts her, waving a hoof side to side. “Ain’t nothin wrong with havin a good time, highness. Nopony got hurt, we all had fun, and thanks to tha colt ain’t nopony gotta be miserable all day.”

“Still, drink more water, and grab a loaf or two of bread before you teleport,” Cure insists. “And let me know if you want me to undo what I did. The only permanent thing I changed is I added a couple small filters… livers, of a sort, to your carotid arteries. They’re keeping the alcohol in your blood from reaching your brain.”

“Then perhaps we should wait until after breakfast to remove them,” she suggests.

“That would probably be wise. Undoing it now could cause you to feel it again. Just keep in mind that your body still has to filter that out, so again… drink water, eat something, don’t rush anything.”

“Very well. I will see you all shortly,” she says, bowing her head slightly in thanks. She takes some of the food in her magic, then her horn ignites and she disappears in a flash.

Deed looks between the two snoozing mares, then to his son and asks, “So… how long we got ‘till breakfast?”

“Eh, long enough you can service ‘em proper-like,” he replies, pulling a Cleaning crystal out of his mane and tossing it to his sire. “Just don’t skimp on the foreplay. Everything’s better when it’s wetter, pa. Have fun!” he calls as he hops down and makes his way out the bedroom door.

Deed catches the crystal and watches as the door shuts behind his son before his brain registers what the colt’s implying. “I meant how long can they nap, brat!”

“Not long with yer big damn mouth,” Amethyst quietly growls. She cracks an eye open and looks to her left across the vacated spot, smirking at her wife’s face so close to their stallion’s equipment. “But since ya woke me up,” she starts as she rolls left onto her back, her right side pressed against the yellow mare, “how bout ya get over here ‘n make it up ta me,” she insists, spreading her hind legs invitingly and waggling her brows.

With a put upon sigh, Deed nods in acceptance while standing. “I suppose I should apologize like a good husband. It’s the right thing to do, ain’t it?”

“Mmmhmm,” she salaciously hums in agreement, smiling as her big, strong stallion stalks around her. “The colt was right, stud. Get down there ‘n get ta work. Lots ta do this mornin. Other ‘n just me, that is. I reckon Sweets may want a roll too.”

The purple mare leans back on the bed with a big smile while Deed gets in position, laying on his barrel pinning her tail below him. A familiar tingle or magic runs through her underside, causing her to tilt her neck up and quirk a brow at the stallion.

He returns her stare with a challenging look and sets the crystal aside. “Don’t give me that look, mare!” he growls, planting a line of gentle kisses down her now cleaned belly. “Love me some pie as much as tha next pony, but that don’t mean I’m diggin inta a piece what’s been sittin’n a sauna all night.”

Amethyst snorts out a laugh and lays back, sets a forhoof on his crown, and nudges his muzzle further down. “Fair ‘nuff, babe. Now put that tongue ‘a yers ta good use! Clock’s tickin.”

_,.-'~'-.,__,.-'~'-[ ⓃⓈⒻⓌ Ⓢⓣⓐⓡⓣⓢ Ⓗⓔⓡⓔ ]-'~'-.,__,.-'~'-.,_

Unlike his sweet dandelion, the purple mare isn’t much for the lovey-dovey stuff. Her hoof on his head gently pushing him down is plenty invitation to dive right in. With her on her back, Deed gives a long, slow, wet lick from bottom to top, careful not to go straight for her most sensitive spots. Time might be limited, but experience has shown that a little patience at the start yields fantastic rewards down the line.

A few more slow, teasing licks not only get his wife ready to go, but also get his blood pumping harder. The powerful scent of an aroused mare floods his nostrils as her juices start flowing and her lips plump and heat up. Her hot button makes itself known after the fifth lick, eager to meet his tongue at the top of his motion. Lips puckered, he plants a kiss on the partially exposed nub and gives it a small suckle.

Amethyst’s legs give a weak kick in response, involuntarily bucking less than a hoof’s span before she lets out a louder moan, doing her best to stifle it with her fetlock. A more a forceful lick of her clit from the base to the tip of his tongue gets her writhing, forcing her hips up off the bed to maintain contact as long as possible and draw out the sensation.

Deed cocks his head to the side slightly and pinches the nub between his lips, gently squeezing down on it with his cushioned teeth while darting his tongue side to side right across its tip. The effects are stupendous: A deep, harsh exhale, both forehooves pawing futilely in the air, hind legs stretching back and clamping down to lock him in place, and the dark mare’s entire hind half arching up in the air. A small, nice, quiet orgasm is a great way to kick things off.

She lifts her head off the bed and with a stern look growls out a command. “Get on! Get up here and fill me! NOW!”

Any stallion with half a brain knows when to obey, and with four wives Deed isn’t anywhere near inexperienced enough to make her wait long at all. He pushes himself to all fours and slowly prowls forward, flexing his chest and shoulders with each motion.

Amethyst’s eyes drink in the sight of her powerful stallion as his huge hooves come down on either side of her neck. She reaches up with her forelegs to trace along the muscular bulges, appreciating all the work the stud has put in at the gym. A slight pressure makes itself known further down, and despite any muscle control she may have, she is powerless to stop the pulsing wink. Deed’s thick, steel legs box her in on all sides as he begins slowly lowering his front half to pin her chest down. His forelegs wrap under her shoulders, locking her into place.

Amethyst loves when he does this. She’s a strong, willful mare, and it takes a strong male to make her his.

As if they have a mind of their own, her hind legs reach up to latch on both sides of his barrel as he lines everything up just right. A grin flashes across her face as she feels his member position itself just between her lips. It’s a very odd sensation compared to any stallion she’s had before, and it certainly surprised the Tartarus out of her the first time she saw him do it. Penises are not supposed to move like that, after all. Bizarre as the thought is, her brain can’t help but send a silent thanks to the maker for the colt’s ability. Never in her wildest dreams would she imagine a cock that can move and twist like her stallion’s can. Having a lover that never misses the mark is great, but it pales in comparison to what he can do once he’s inside.

Knowing what’s coming, she takes a breath and tugs him down lightly with her hind legs while wrapping her forelegs around his withers. Deed obliges, starting his hind end’s descent towards her barrel and impaling her without mercy. A throaty exhale escapes the mare as the member sinks in, stopping after a hoof, then easing back out. There’s no need to stop at all; she’s hot and wet and ready for everything, but Deed remembers a few complaints about him going too fast before. With all the strength she can muster she pulls herself up to meet him, sliding him further inside. First one hoof's worth, then two, then slightly more push her insides apart until another pressure grows at the base.

He pushes a little more forcefully, pauses, and withdraws a half dozen centimeters before plunging back in. Three quick bumps and he finally sinks in past the ring, sliding forward even further until his laden orbs rest hotly against her backside. A contented sigh escapes the stallion as he shimmies side to side slightly, seating himself just right. “Damn that feels nice,” he comments, then reaches down and turns his head aside to rub his cheek against her chin. “Ready babe?”

“FUCK ME!” she growls through gritted teeth.

“Heh... yes ma’am!” her chirps.

This is the part she loves; the part she never experienced before. Still above her, pinning her with his weight, her stallion’s staff suddenly grows inside her, spreading her even wider as it inflates even more. It’s slow and unstoppable and magnificent, stretching her insides wider as his heft swells to just the right size to really turn her inside out. Not one to be idle, she begins squeezing and pumping her muscles too, constricting where the nerves push up against him just right.

Fullness. Pressure. Bliss. Pleasure just short of pain. So many words flit through her mind as she humps up against him, urging him to really get moving.

Slowly withdrawing, Deed drags his entire length against her walls. A low, keening moan escapes her as her sleeve fights to pull him back in. She doesn’t have to wait long; he pauses two thirds of the way out and eases himself all the way to his base. Once, twice, three times he withdraws and slowly grinds into her depths, his flare just barely kissing her deepest wall.

Then he gets started.

With the power and speed only an earth pony can deliver, Deed unsheathes almost his whole member before slamming it back down. In and out, in and out he hammers away at her. He savors the feeling of his full orbs slapping against her strong, pliant rear over and over again as she writhes and bucks below him.

Awakened by the motion of the mattress, Lemon enjoys the show of their stallion pounding away at her wife. Not one to sit and watch, she climbs over and nips at Amethyst’s cheek, nuzzling and licking the pinch away. “He’s going to fill you up, Amy. I bet you’re going to make a mess all over these fancy sheets, aren’t ya?”

“NNNNNNyess!” she grunts out, twisting her head to steal a kiss from the yellow mare.

They separate again and Lemon reaches up, pulling Deed into a tender kiss as well. “Fuck her brains out, stud. Pound her right through the bed and make that tummy bulge with your seed,” she forcefully commands, then reaches down to share a more demanding kiss with their wife.

The sight of two mares aggressively making out while he plows one of them almost does Deed in right there. He thanks the maker for the enhanced control he has, despite the fact that exploding early isn’t much of a problem anymore. What used to mean a five to ten minute pause in the action doesn’t need to thanks to the colt’s tinkering.

He stops his hard thrusts to stop jostling pair, then buries himself all the way to his hilt. Fully sunk into her tightness, he grinds forwards and back a few times, then in a circular motion while he flexes inside her. The pressure on her clit causes her to yelp inside her wife’s mouth as he pushes his tip flat against the deepest part of her canal.

“Tell me when,” he growls through gritted teeth, withdrawing a hoof’s span and pushing back to grind again.

“All. Most. There!” she pants between thrusts, pressing her face harder against the yellow mare.

“Fill her up, stud. Pour it all in her,” Lemon huskily commands, running a hoof against her wife's side. “Give it all to her! Now!” she growls.

“DO IT!” Amethyst demands.

With a roar like a lion, Deed squeezes down on the mare from all sides and pushes his weight into her barrel, then explodes like a volcano. With a flex of the added muscle, his base sends a jolt of vibration against the outside of her slit and right into her clit, pushing a screamed moan out her lips as she tightens around him in orgasm. The pressure is intense as spurt after spurt blasts her walls, filling her in a way she’s never felt before him. The constant pushing grind of his crotch against hers doesn’t lessen, and the vibration on her clit finally makes her whole world explode. With a renewed scream she humps up against him, meeting his pushing thrusts and drenching his underside with her own juices.

The pair grind and hump, painting each other with their excitement again and again.

Finally spent, Deed sucks in a lungful of air through his nostrils as he comes down from the high. Allowing himself to soften, he gives his panting wife another circular grind, then a few softer, slower pumps as he squeezes as much out of his length as he can deep inside her.

“Oh, maker above, that was nice,” she wheezes out. “Mmm... good job, stud,” she teasingly compliments, patting him with her right hoof. “I think we made a mess, though.”

“You think?” he and Lemon ask at the same time. Lemon leans her head to the side to take stock of their condition. She finds matted fur painted in his seed and her eruption. The mess is smeared from their navels down and is pooling in the base of her tail. The sheets would be a write-off without magic or a lot of scrubbing, and he hasn’t even pulled out yet.

“Got another one in ya, stud?” Lemon hopefully asks.

“One?” he scoffs. “Like the two of ya could wear out this stallion,” he remarks with a roll of his eyes.

“Great!” she chirps, pushing him back with a hoof. Deed scoots out of the way, withdrawing fully as Lemon hops in his place, flagging her tail while lowering herself onto her wife, grinding their glistening slits together and smearing his cum over her slit. She gives Amethyst a passionate kiss, separating to glance over her withers with a sultry, half lidded look. “Give it to me, stud,” she commands, “and don’t worry about the warm-up. I need you in me, now!”

With another put upon sigh he gets ready for round two, quietly thanking the maker for ending up as the only stallion in Vines’ harem.

Author's Note

A wild chapter appears!

So, a few things... for an M-rated story with a sex tag about a biokinetic there's been a severe shortage of NSFW moments. Don't expect that to change. We've all seen more than enough stories that devolve into nothing but porn once the seal is broken. That won't happen here and, in fact, unless another unexpected opportunity arises (which is what happened here) there probably won't be any for quite a long time.

This was, aside from the clop scene, going to be part of the next chapter, which is still slated to publish on 9/18. The rest of that is mostly done as is a chunk of the next chapter (which will publish 9/25 but is still the same in-story day, June 20th), but since I decided to go ahead and add in the scene instead of having a break after Cure leaves, the following chapter will be a smidge shorter. Still longer than this one, but compared to my norm... meh.

It may also start off a tad awkwardly unless I get in the mood to tweak it some, so apologies if the lead in is a little more jarring than normal. That's what happens when you unexpectedly split a chapter in half, though.

As I mentioned a few times in comments and in the first few chapters of the story, this is my first time ever writing anything longer than a grade school book report. As such, this is also my first time writing anything even remotely pornographic. I never thought I would do either of those things, but hey... here we are. Just keep that in mind when it comes to criticism. Constructive is appreciated.

Anyhow, figured I should check in just to let everyone know I'm still alive.

Thanks for reading and, of course, commenting/rating. See you all in a little under two weeks.

Chapter 80: All Hail the Prince of Balls!

Saturday, June 20th, 909 AB (About an hour later)

“Too early for all this,” Heavy whines, poking at his parfait.

Cure has to give the kitchen staff credit; so far everything he’s had while staying at the palace has been top notch. The blended berries are fresh and juicy, the yogurt is thick and creamy, and the granola has a nice crunchy texture all the way down to the bottom of the bowl. The tartness is a good contrast to the otherwise sugary meal they’re enjoying.

If it weren’t for his talent he’s not sure how he would keep himself from whipping on the weight when he’s in town.

“You’re eating a gourmet breakfast at the Royal Castle on the morning of a once-in-a-lifetime event that you didn’t have to do anything to get invited to,” Dawn flatly points out.

“Yeah, dude. Suck it up. ‘s not like you gotta do anything afterwards. I’m gonna be in the spotlight all friggin morning. You wanna have somethin ta complain about, how ‘bout you join me on stage?”

The gray colt holds his hooves up in surrender, waving placatingly. “No, no! I’m fine! I didn’t mean to sound ungrateful or anythin. Jus’ early, ya know?”

“Yeah, well… sunrise is at six thirty, coronation’s right after. The parade isn’t too long, but y’all hafta head out soon to get to the VIP area early, so hop to,” he insists, waving at the food.

Ferric’s ears pin as she asks, “You’re giving a speech? In front of everypony?”

“Sure am. The boss lady and I are playin off each other. It should be fun. I’m doin a demo and everything.”

“A demo?” Glacial asks. “Of your talent?” He nods. “How?”

“A guard trainer lost an eye. I’m growing it back on stage. If you do go the Battlemage route she may be one of your teachers if she stays there,” he says as he motions to Dawn.

“Neat,” she comments.

“Yep. Dunno how it happened, but after her accident she stepped into a training role instead of retiring. Who knows, maybe she’ll transfer back to… well, I guess she is ‘active’ now, but doing fieldwork or whatever. So afterwards there’ll be a bunch of stuff going on in the Town Square. I’ll be comin back with the princess and meeting with nobles, diplomats, and so forth, but as soon as I’m done I figure we can go check out the celebrations.”

“I hear the Wonderbolts are going to be there doing autographs!” Drift exclaims.

“Yeah, they’re part of the parade. Them and a bunch of other specialist squads will be there from all over. It’s gonna be awesome.”

“When will you be done?” Dawn asks.

“Noonish? It depends on the meetings. From what I understand the princess normally doesn’t do much of a speech at all each year, but she’ll give a quick one today. Then I get my fancy hat, I give a quick ‘Howdy, y’all’ to everypony, we shoot back here, meet with the big wigs and ambassadors, then I’m done with everything official for the day.”

Heavy sighs in relief. “Good. We can come back and take a nap.” Cure pauses his spoon mid-bite to scowl at the gray colt. “Don’t worry, bro,” Heavy teases, reaching over to pat the disguised alicorn on the shoulder in mock sympathy, “Me and the girls ‘ll be cheering you on in spirit while we’re all piled up on your bed.”

“It is a really nice bed,” Glacial comments, cracking a small smile when Cure’s glare flicks to her.

“Shame you won’t be able to join us,” Drift adds, nuzzling heavily against the platinum filly with her soft, warm wing hugging them together. A small whimper threatened to escape the colt.

“Hey Cure!” Sapphire calls.

“What?” Cure asks as he turns his head to look at the aqua filly. Rather than the verbal response he expected, the colt is treated to a front row seat for the biggest, loudest, muzzle-splitting, jaw-dislocating yawn a foal could ever hope to achieve.

The little nightmare is only the instigator of the wave; one by one each foal follows suit, yawning loudly and smacking their lips afterwards. “Not you too, Red!” he cries in mock offense as the larger filly wraps up a full-bodied shudder. The infection quickly spreads to the adults before the colt finally succumbs as well.

“Sorry, Cure,” she quietly apologizes.

“You all stink,” he huffs. “See if I invite y’all next time I’m gettin crowned,” he grouses, taking out his frustration on his parfait with a devastating stab of his spoon.

“Aww, you know you love the abuse,” Sapphire teases.

Cure rolls his eyes and finishes up his food, then waves down a servant for a refill of his coffee. The other foals watch on, noting the apparent comfort level the colt is casually displaying. They all know they can ask for stuff, but actually calling a royal servant to fetch them something still feels odd.

Cure takes a long pull of his drink, then chugs his glass of water before whipping his watch out and checking the time. “Any minute now,” he sighs. “Don’t be surprised if a photographer takes your pictures, especially if they can line one up with me and my body double both in it. And don’t forget to treat him like you would me. Mostly.”

“Shoulda just changed Heavy’s colors,” Drift remarks. “It worked at the spa.”

“Uh huh,” Cure nods, “and that was before somepony tried to foalnap me. No way. The dude under that Illusion is a trained, elite soldier. Just treat him normally and stay out of his way. And if anything happens and he tells you to do somethin, do it.”

Cure glances down at the adults chatting away with the princess. For the most part they’re not paying attention, more focused on their conversation than the foals’. He notes Brick’s ear turned in their direction and, at a pause in the discussion the older, revitalized stallion glances his direction and gives a small, firm nod.

“Are you… expecting something to happen?” Rising hesitantly asks, glancing at the others in worry.

“No, doing something today would be the height of idiocy,” he explains. “Like I said, the whole parade is military, for the most part. I had hoped that healthcare workers could be included too, given my talent, but with the births everywhere else almost none of ‘em were able to stick around. There’ll be thousands of guards everywhere as well as dozens of elite units, not to mention the princess. I struggle to think of a worse time to act up, honestly.”

Rising silently mouths “oh yeah” as she nods in acceptance.

“Maybe today wasn’t the best day to have this,” Coast suggests. “More doctors and nurses would have been available in a month or two.”

Glacial leans over, quietly explaining, “We talked about it,” motioning with a wing to indicate herself, Drift, and Cure. “It’s not… exactly his big day.”

At the confused looks turned his direction, Dawn cuts in to explain, whispering, “Do you think he cares about being a prince? Really?” She tilts her head meaningfully towards the end of the table, prompting the other foals to briefly look over at the princess. Their heads all turning her direction at once draw her gaze for a second, but she’s immediately pulled back into the conversation with the adults.

“So… you’re doing all this for,” Heavy trails off in inquiry.

“Not exclusively, but I never asked for it,” Cure explains in answer. “I think the original plan was to invite us to the Celebration and talk me into it at the last minute. As you’ve all observed, almost any foal would fall over themselves to accept.”

Ferric, wide eyed, starts saying, “That sounds like a terr-,” before cutting off, frozen like even an accurate critique of the princess’s decision is criminal. The message gets across despite her reluctance and all of the other foals slowly nod in agreement.

“That would have been hilarious!” Sapphire squeals, clapping in delight. “Oh my stars, you would have lost your mind!!!” At the round of flat stares leveled her direction she points a hoof all around the table, “Close, but angrier! Good impressions for a first try, though!”

Heavy shakes his head, dismissing the aqua filly’s take on it and turning to Cure. “What would you have done?”

Grimacing, Cure looks down at his food in thought for a moment. “Honestly… I probably would have agreed. I… I don’t think I could have said no, ya know?” More lowly, he leans in to whisper, “You all saw how she was glowing when we came back after the whole snake thing.” Face pinched in disgust, he continues, “Turnin my rear on her like that? It would be cruel. I don’t think I have it in me. I woulda been super annoyed, though. I can’t deny that.”

A side door opens, admitting Captain Shield. She approaches the princess and the two exchange a few words before the alicorn looks his way and gives a small nod.

“Looks like it’s showtime, folks. Like I said, treat the double like you would me. Don’t be upset if I can’t really acknowledge you all when I’m on stage, okay? Now come gimme some hugs before I go,” he calls as he hops down from the bench.

One by one the foals all come in to wish him luck and offer what little encouragement they can. After a brief stop with the parents, grandparents, and his uncle, aunts, and cousins he sidles up alongside the princess, switching to a very slightly modified Serpentus disguise as soon as they exit the room.

The two make their way through the halls and down to the main receiving room. A pair of castle servants bow as they approach, then open two richly decorated boxes containing both alicorns’ shoes and Cure’s freshly polished peytral. A quick inspection by the castle beauticians, a few cosmetic tweaks by the colt, and the pair make their way towards the front door.

A steady procession of more and more ponies follow in their wake as they pass. First, their six guards, then a second squad of six equally heavily armed ponies. Next the organization staff, some of whom were giving the princess last minute details. Finally, the public relations and media coordination teams grab all of their equipment and follow along.

Celestia and Cure pay them no mind, allowing the camera ponies to snap candid pictures of the pair as they exit the main entrance and take in the sight before them. The castle grounds are full of light despite the early hour, as is a straight line into the city on a path to the Sun Memorial.

As they descend the steps a loud, but somewhat subdued call of “Auntie!” draws the pair’s attention to the approaching royal family.

Celestia smiles fondly and turns to the small herd. “Good morning, nephew,” she greets, wrapping him in a neck and wing hug. “How are you all this morning?”

“Too early,” Misty mopes, leaning against her older sister who nods in agreement. The younger filly fails to stifle a big yawn and, just as Sapphire’s had, proceeds to catch several nearby ponies, including her sister, in a chain reaction.

Her dam regards the drowsy filly, clearly unhappy with her daughter’s response. “Perhaps if somepony had gone to bed at an appropriate time, hmm?”

“But we were having fun!” she responds, stomping a forehoof with little actual force.

“Foals,” Senior wistfully sighs as he separates from the princess. Casting a disappointed gaze at the filly, he explains, “She spent the night with Lord Stein’s youngest and some other friends. They watched the revelry from their balcony rather than retire at a more civilized time.”

Cure looks at the prince and asks, “You didn’t stay up all night partying, highness?”

The stallion scoffs and flicks a hoof dismissively. “Goodness, no! Perhaps in my younger years, but I can nearly feel bags forming under my eyes at the very suggestion! I do hope you all got a good night’s sleep?”

Cure leans over and bonks into the princess’s foreleg as he says, “The princess was sleepin so hard I had’ta shake her awake. Thought I was gonna need to dump water on ‘er if that didn’t work.”

Junior looks between the two alicorns in confusion. “You sleep in the same room?”

“No,” they both casually answer at the same time. Cure waves a hoof for the princess to clarify, but Senior steps in first.

“Auntie is famously difficult to rouse during the night, son. It seems as if young Serpentus is a little more of an early riser.”

“Comparatively, maybe,” the colt agrees. “I had a lot on my mind thinking about what all is going to happen today, so I was already awake.”

“Fear not, young stallion. Just follow the script and I’m sure everything will go smashingly.”

“Vladimir, dear,” Noble calls. “I do believe it is nearly time to depart. Your majesty?”

“Quite right, dear niece. Come along, Serpentus.”

Cure, Celestia, and the Blueblood family make their way to their designated carriage; a gaudy, open-top contraption made, as far as the colt can tell, from solid gold. He’s sure it can’t really be gold simply due to the weight, but just like the ceremonial armor everypony is wearing, it certainly looks that way.

The vehicle reminds Cure more of a parade float than any kind of legitimate carriage, but the large, cushioned surface and short lip work better ergonomically with pony body shapes, allowing the occupants to sit or lay, yet still be fully visible to the crowd. Cure has a hard time thinking of it as anything more than a wheeled bed or fancy couch.

Everypony in the carriage has a designated spot. Celestia, as the tallest and most important, lays in the middle of the herd. Blueblood Senior, as a full-blown prince, is on her left, his son and designated heir beside him. Noble, merely a princess consort, and their daughters are on her right. As the prince to be crowned, Cure is seated in the middle, just ahead of Celestia’s forehooves.

Four muscular earth ponies will pull the carriage while it’s flanked by the dozen Royal Guardians. Unlike normal, they are wearing a golden version of their normal heavy armor. Cure is convinced it’s the same stuff, just colored with magic. A shame, he considers, when the plated steel look suits them much better.

Squad after squad of guards fill out the parade. Captain Shield, Lieutenant Spear, and a squad of the castle guards take point. Dozens of honor guard units from different cities file in behind them, one of Baltimare’s own up front to represent his hometown.

Hollow Shades’ squad of bats stand out prominently near the front. Where everypony else shines like the noon sun, their black matted armor and dark green cloaks drink in the light.

The squad of Wonderbolts in their navy and gold follow next. Unlike everypony else, they don’t seem to have actual armor on. Their suits are all enchanted, but unless they’re made of silk like Cure produces, he isn’t sure how protective they would really be.

Two squads of unicorns are behind them. Contrary to the stereotype of a mage, these ponies are lean and muscular. The unicorn Artillery Division has to be able to move quickly, and their slim runner’s builds and lighter armor are geared towards that. This is the group that Solar wants to join, and it makes a lot of sense he’d been so eager to run with Cure and the foals. Their MO is to move into range quietly under illusions, unleash absolute Tartarus, then group teleport and run back behind defensive lines before the disarrayed survivors can respond.

A single squad of heavily armored unicorns take up the next slot, each one covered in small darts and other projectiles. The Battlemages are the mid-range fighters, typically staying behind others and blasting with spellfire or slicing with telekinetically controlled blades. They were a priority target in the last griffon war, and many died before they adopted their thicker plate.

Three mixed-tribe Ranger squads from Appleloosa, Salt Lick, and Dodge City are next. Separate from the royal guard garrisons of their respective cities, the Rangers are responsible for border patrols and working with the various buffalo tribes from the McIntosh Hills to the southeast, all the way to the San Palomino desert and Somnabula to the far southwest.

Hailing from Vanhoover, the renowned Heavy Thunder Brigade sent an eight-pony squad. The huge earth ponies tower over everypony else. While the mares are as tall as the princess, the stallions look a solid hoof and a half taller, and at least as much wider at the chest. Cure can’t deny the powerful physiques convey an intimidating look, and can’t help but wonder what Cpt. Shield was thinking patronizing him when he looked like that.

The last set of guards in front of the carriage are a dozen of Celestia’s Paladins, a mixed-tribe group of specialists geared to deal with dark magic practitioners. Even more ornate than the others, their golden armor has the princess’s mark engraved over their own and on their chests. It strikes the colt as maybe a tiny bit worrying, but so long as it’s pageantry more than zealotry then it’s probably not too much of an issue.

The Royal Carriage is hardly the end of the line. Behind them parked in rows of three all along the landing strip are the carriages of the three dukes, seven of the marquises and marchionesses, the chancellors, city officials, and a dozen more squads like the Manehattan Marines, Las Pegasus Sky Knights, and a squad from Cloudsdale’s “griff” contingent, the Blazing Talons. Even more standard squads finish out the parade, sent from other cities.

“I kinda figured there would be diplomats,” Cure states in inquiry.

“The procession is only for Equestrians,” Celestia explains. “Ambassadors from Minos, Griffinstone, and Saddle Arabia will be present.”

“Is that normal, auntie?” Junior asks. “I would have expected more attendees for such a momentous occasion. What of Yakyakistan, Zebrica, Great Bitain, Prance, Abyssia, and Maretonia?”

“We have few dealings with many of those nations,” she answers. “Travel times being what they are, many of them were only sent a formal announcement, much as they will be when your sire is prepared to pass down his title to you. I admit, I may have been somewhat hasty in my planning for this event, but I doubt many more would attend even if we had scheduled it further out. Only nations with embassies were invited to attend.”

“Including the Zebras?” Azure Tiara asks. “I was under the impression we…” she trails off when her dam settles a hoof on her withers and shakes her head no.

“It is alright, niece,” Celestia assures her. She smiles reassuringly at the older filly and explains, “A group of zebras was apprehended doing something they should not have. They were acting against Serpentus and, with the lack of cooperation from their government, I declined inviting them.”

Tiara mouths a silent “oh” and nods in acceptance. Everypony goes quiet as the northeast gate opens wide. Over two dozen civilian carriages take off, some filled with VIPs from the city, others with Cure’s friends and family. They’re moving at a quicker pace and going around the main parade route, allowing them to reach their designated seating far earlier than the procession will.

One of the coordinator mares approaches the carriage and calls out. “We’ll be getting underway in just a moment, ma’ams, sirs.”

“Thank you, Precision. Whenever you’re ready,” Celestia responds. The mare gives a nod and she, along with several others, begin going up and down the line to get everypony ready. Cure checks his watch. Five thirty in the morning is projected in front of the group. An hour until the scheduled sunrise.

The anxiety must have shown in his motions; as soon as he puts it away the princess reaches down and nuzzles in his mane and over an ear. “Ready?” she asks.

He leans against her warm snout and scoffs. “Sure. Why not? Not like there’s anything to be nervous about.”

“Exactly!” she sarcastically agrees, rising back to her full, sitting height.

“Chin up, young stallion,” Senior encourages. “Just take a few deep breaths. All will be well.”

“That’s basically what I would tell mares just before they’d give birth,” he grumbles. The blunt remark gets snorted laughs from everypony and a round of giggles from the fillies. He sits down like the others, resting on his haunches.

He has to adjust slightly due to the slight modification he and his mom had discussed in keeping with his “snake” theme. He knows the prank will probably blow up in his face somehow, or multiple somehows, but it’ll also probably be the funniest thing he’ll ever do, no matter how long he lives. He just hopes he can keep the photographers at the right angle to leave everypony somewhat guessing, at least until he gets on stage.

A blast of horns sounds out. The front of the procession begins moving, and all conversation comes to a halt. The sounds of thousands of hooffalls fill the courtyard as they get underway. Distant cheers kick up in volume as they start moving. Cure sits up tall and proud and, as they pass through the gate, he and the princess spread their wings wide. A wall of screaming cheers slams into the group all at once when they emerge.

Pandemonium, through and through. Ponies, lit by streetlights, cheer and yell and stomp. Hanging out of windows, leaning over rooftops, peering down from clouds, and absolutely filling the cordoned off streetsides. No one noise is distinguishable from the rest; everything washes over the carriage like a thunderous tidal wave. He’s tempted to use his sound bubble, but that seems somehow rude to do.

With fake smiles plastered on their faces, they begin waving with their hooves to the wild crowd as the procession moves forwards, passing through the main corridor bisecting the city.

The smell of sweat and alcohol can be detected even with the steady mountaintop breeze. It’s not the only scent on the wind; bakeries, teahouses, pubs, and taverns have all been open overnight to cash in on the occasion, filling the city with a mix of aromas, some less pleasant than others.

As any attempt at conversing would be utterly pointless, everypony just continues waving to the crowd. Tiara and Misty scoot closer to their dam; the younger leaning against the inside of her left foreleg and the elder against her right haunch. The stallions are doing better with Senior eagerly drinking in the adoration and Junior modeling his sire.

Celestia is either a phenomenal actress or is genuinely excited. Her radiant smile only eggs the crowd on, encouraging them to cheer even more fervently when they lay eyes upon her.

Cure just hangs on for dear life, waving to individuals that meet his eyes while strangling a laugh when an occasional bat, pegasus, or griff glances lower, then blinks or cocks their head to the side in confusion. It takes thirty minutes to arrive at the Town Square, and only a few more to make their way east to the memorial just beside it. A large stage has been erected with VIP stands overlooking it along the north and northwest sides.

The Sun Memorial is a truly marvelous sight. Cure hasn’t had the opportunity to visit it yet, but it’s a well known tourist spot. Located just east of the central Town Square, the enormous plaza’s defining feature is a statue of the princess, standing six meters tall with her head held high and wings fully spread. At the tip of her horn is a clear sphere of crystal enchanted to react to the morning’s first rays of sun. To the north and south are rows of trees, and at the base and sides of the statue is a shallow pool.

Large, temporary stands have been erected for the VIC’s (Very Important Creatures) along the northern border of the plaza just in front of the foliage. The entire plaza is ringed in row after row of clouds for all of the pegasi and griff attendees above the stands and trees.

Equestrian flags as well as several decorated with either Celestia’s or Cure’s marks hang from the lowest layer of cloud seats, dangling several meters above the surrounding trees and bleachers. Ornate street lamps provide the only illumination typically, but for this special occasion crystal light features have been installed in the stands and along the bottom of the clouds between the heraldry.

Cure instantly spots his friends, family, and his doppelganger cheering with everypony else. He meets his mom’s eyes and the pink mare visibly guffaws, leaning heavily against Lemon and whispering in her ear. The yellow mare leans forwards over Cherry, then bursts out laughing herself. Amethyst is next, but none of them dare say anything to Deed or Vines. The dark stallion would probably get a kick out of it, but he would also likely tell his first wife what their son has done.

None of his friends notice, but he would be shocked if they did. Staring at that part of a pony is quite taboo, especially on a foal, and even with the lamps filling the area with light one would not take note of a second unit so easily.

The Royal Carriage pulls directly by the stage. Only the Royal Guardians and the family are allowed on it, and the former spread themselves out along the edge. Cure folds his wings and gathers with the Bluebloods to the south of the raised dais. Celestia walks along the edge of the platform and speaks through the deluge of sound with ponies as the remaining carriages arrive, unload their passengers, and depart. The guard units fill in to the south while the southeast, west, and ground level of the north fill with ponies and other creatures of all kinds.

Cure undoes his temporary change as photographers finish setting up on raised press stages to the northwest and southwest. Rumors and hearsay are fine, but solid evidence is not something he wishes to provide.

It takes another fifteen minutes of waiting for the remainder of the parade and guard units to arrive and get in position. The colt takes a minute to look over the VIP section. Dozens of ponies he doesn’t recognize fill the raised seating area.

The Lords, Ladies, and higher nobility of the nation have come out in force. Many have adopted a stoic visage either from the early hour or the genuine lack of interest. Few look legitimately excited to be present, but snubbing such an event could be construed as being needlessly antagonistic. Fortunately there are enough filling the multi-level temporary stands that the Golden Hills herd is easily overlooked.

Celestia, in an effort to shield him, has used his rigorous work schedule to prevent the colt from being overwhelmed by insistent nobles wanting to meet. The only ones Cure recognizes are Marquis Merryland, Countess Forest, and Duke Dandy Dresser. The older unicorn is sat beside his wife; the pair happy to lean together and enjoy each other’s presence in a sea of sound and chaos.

Ambassadors and representatives from the three quasi-allies are present. The Saddle Arabians, as another pony nation and actual allies, have a spot of prominence closest to and just above the stage. Cure hasn’t yet had an opportunity to scan a Saddle Arabian, but has been led to believe they are somehow less “magical” than Equestrian ponies. From what he can tell they don’t look any different, but they lack something that many Equestrian ponies fail to fully appreciate: a mark of destiny.

Their private box is flanked by two sets of guards, and although they are in armor, they are not visibly armed. The occupants themselves appear to be a family, likely the actual ambassador to Equestria. The stallion is a pegasus, as are two of his wives and three of their four slightly older foals. His third wife is a unicorn, and her son is asleep against his dam. Unlike Equestrians, they do wear clothes; both sexes wear what’s apparently called an abaya; a thin, loose cloth wrap that Cure can only assume helps with wind and sand.

The minotaur box has only two occupants and two guards, none of which are wearing a scrap of clothing. The human part of Cure’s brain really thinks they should, though. Their goods aren’t really on display that much more than a pony’s would be, but with crotches a little more is a pretty significant difference. One would at least expect a bra or pair of briefs just for comfort if nothing else. Regardless, as he’d found during the birthing season, the “WoW Tauren” comparison he noted with males applies to their females as well.

Though “softer” and more feminine than her bull, the heifer still has a lean, powerful build with a darned impressive rack. It’s furry and not comically enormous like Cure half expected, but the ladies are admirable with their respectable size and ample perkiness. It would not do well to have the new prince staring at the ambassador’s wife’s tits, though, so a quick pan over the pair is all the attention he gives them.

The minotaurs do have unique mitochondrial structures and Cure has had some opportunity to play with them to identify their functions. Like every other species, their composition differs between muscle and other cells.

Non-muscular structures in their bodies have a similar, if slightly inferior, magic generation structure. Their muscular mitochondria have a slightly different version of the telekinetic structures ponies and griffons possess. The effect, instead of grabbing or sharpening, instead toughens surfaces. This somewhat explains their eschewing armor under most circumstances; like dragons, they should usually not need it.

Though inferior to dragonscale, a toughened patch of hide does a fairly good job of protecting a user from slashes and even mitigates blunt force trauma more effectively than an earth pony’s innate resilience. While it doesn’t increase mass, Cure’s testing shows that the aura also allows the user to hit harder without fear of injuring themselves. By itself it’s mildly useful; combined with his subdermal armor for defense and a pegasus’ mass manipulation for offense it is a decent buff.

The griffons’ box is well above the other two and a fair amount larger. He isn’t sure if they’re trying to make a statement or if military chic is just their go-to motif for formal occasions. With all save two armored from claw to flank, the dozen griffons look like they’re ready to launch an attack. No weapons are visible, but with their claws and talons they don’t really need them as much.

The only exceptions are a hen and a younger adult chick, both with staves in harnesses slung across their backs. The pair are wearing some ornamental jewelry and are sat just to the right of the lead tom. Cure knows that griffon mages are a real thing in this world, but it’s the first time he’s ever seen one, let alone a pair.

The tom himself is a dark brown and black griffon with a more hawk-like appearance. He is slightly larger than the rest and, from the few lines of light gray in the feathers on his crown, a little older than his subordinates. He catches Cure’s wandering gaze and the two share a brief staring contest.

Cure isn’t sure exactly what the griffon was looking for, but after a moment he shoots the colt a small grin and inclines his head slightly in what looks like approval.

At the ding of an unseen and unheard timer, the princess finishes her current conversation and strides to the raised dais. Without saying a word she sits, looks east, and spreads her wings wide. Within seconds absolute quiet fills the square as everycreature stares either at her, her statue, or towards the eastern horizon.

The streetlights wink out. In darkness and in silence, Celestia glows ethereal. Wisps of golden light seep from her chest, arcing in blue, green, and pink as they flow up her horn, through her wings, down her legs, and out her hooves, potent enough for Cure to feel from meters away. Her forelegs lift, spreading wide as her whole frame levitates off of the stage.

He knows this is purely for show; she’d confirmed the ease with which she can control the sun via her cutie mark the night of their conversation. The pageantry is the point, though. Nopony can deny the strength on display and there’s no missing the thrum of power coursing through the air.

A beam of orange crests the eastern horizon, slamming into the peak of the Canterhorn and flowing down, bathing the crowd in the morning’s first light. Yellow follows quickly as her sun quickly slides into the sky, not stopping until even the farthest western cities of Equestria experience their own sunrise. The crystal atop her statue absorbes the first rays, and for only a fleeting moment, paints the plaza in a tide of rainbow light.

Celestia glides gently back to the stage, sitting with wings still spread. The spectators erupt in a wave of cheer. With a smile as bright as her sun, she stands and dips her head in a shallow bow to the frantic crowd.

She stands tall and, in her royal voice, calls out. “My little ponies,” a hush spreads as everycreature strains to listen, “as a new day dawns upon these lands, we gather not just to celebrate another year of peace and prosperity, but also to celebrate the most momentous of achievements.

“A young earth pony foal, not even a decade in this world, but yet completely dedicated to the tenets of harmony, was given a great gift… and a terrible burden. Through his Loyalty, Generosity, Kindness, Laughter, Honesty, and with a spark of magic, he accomplished something even I began to doubt possible.

“While volunteering to help his fellow ponies, he developed medical treatments in his home, assisted only by his parents. Accepting no payment for his efforts, he sought to improve life for everypony.

“Miraculous trees of healing and trees to replenish the blood of the wounded are only the first of his creations. Initially introduced in Baltimare, in only a few months they are already credited with saving over thirty lives and drastically speeding the recovery of hundreds more. Just this past week they were approved for general use, and will soon be seen in hospitals and clinics all across the nation!”

A round of cheers erupts from the crowd, but the princess raises a hoof to quiet them.

“That is only the start. I dare not give details until their evaluations are complete, but additional treatments are in testing that promise to change life for every Equestrian forever.

“Many of you that had a foal this season were fortunate enough to meet him. The papers will report today, and the National and Canterlot Regional Health Authorities have verified the results. Under his caring hoof, Not. A. Single. Newborn. Was. Lost.”

She pauses and pans her gaze over the stunned crowd. “Every single expecting dam he assisted delivered their foal or foals successfully!” Another round of applause explodes forth as Celestia smiles and nods in approval. Quiet falls as she continues, “It is with great pride and the utmost joy that I call Serpentus to stand before me!”

Senior reaches down and gives the colt an encouraging pat on the withers as he stands. He climbs onto the raised platform, approaches the princess, and drops into a formal bow. In his Royal Canterlot Voice he greets, “Your majesty.”

She smiles and gives an almost imperceptible nod of approval. Her horn ignites and, in a flash of white, a crown levitates in the air between them. Cure’s eyes take in every detail of the ornate piece. Simple, yet beautiful, he couldn’t have designed it better himself.

The crown’s band, or more accurately, bands, are two golden-scaled snakes, the pairs’ bodies crossing at the back of the crown so that both heads are on the top row, each seemingly preparing to attack the other. Between their open mouths and inlaid before the bottom coil is a deep green emerald set into a golden facet, and in each visible eye is an inlaid ruby. The scales are traced in a thin obsidian edge, contrasting starkly against the bright gold.

It’s gorgeous, and the thought that it would look perfect on a villain makes him smile all the wider.

“Serpentus,” she calls, regaining his attention. “The burden I ask of you is immense, but one you have already shown yourself capable of carrying. Do you pledge to continue to serve Equestria faithfully before all others?”

“I do.”

“Do you pledge to do your best to keep her citizens safe, to nurture them, and to protect them?”

“I do.”

“Do you pledge to continue to bring healing and comfort to those who seek you?”

“I do.”

Perhaps a little too eagerly she asks, “Do you pledge to cover court for me on occasion?”

“No way,” he immediately replies. It takes a second for the crowd to parse what was said before a round of laughter sounds out.

Celestia exaggerates a pout and stomps a hoof for show. “Darn,” she sighs, begrudgingly nodding in acceptance. She looks out over her ponies and shrugs. “Can’t blame me for trying. I suppose three out of four isn’t bad.”

As the laughs trail off she turns back to Cure. “One last question.” She raises her voice, and with the pressure of her presence increasing, asks, “Do you pledge, knowing the responsibility that accompanies it, to accept this crown, understanding that should I someday be incapable, that the duty to guide this nation and her creatures shall fall upon you before all others?”

He hesitates only a fraction of a second to look up and meet her eyes. That was not part of the script, but unfortunately, it is part of the role he has accepted. Unwilling to do otherwise, the colt gives her a shallow nod.

“I do.”

“Then I, Celestia, High Princess and Sovereign of Equestria, Princess of the Day, and Alicorn of the Sun, am overjoyed to bestow upon you the title of Grand Prince! I recognize you, Prince Serpentus, as the Alicorn of Life!” She lowers the crown onto his head just in front of his horn. “I bid thee rise! Stand, and bow before no other for so long as you draw breath!”

Cure stands, sits on his haunches, and spreads his forelegs and wings wide. Celestia doesn’t hesitate a second, and to the roaring cheers of everypony, scoops him up in a hug, squeezing him tight and nuzzling against his cheek.

She turns him around, wrapping her left foreleg under his pits and supporting his rear with her right. Slightly on her left side, he waves his left wing to the roaring crowd while she waves her right. The pair spin, soaking in the adoration of tens, if not hundreds of thousands of citizens for a solid minute until she lowers him back to the ground.

Cure tilts his head towards the crowd and raises a single brow in question, to which the princess gives him a nod. He turns to face the west where the majority of the ponies are and takes a few steps to stand in front of her.

“My fellow Equestrians,” he begins, once again silencing the crowd, “honored emissaries,” he nods to the foreign contingent, “and visitors from afar… I know you’re all here just to see me, and definitely didn’t come for the all-night partying,” he pauses to give the masses a doubtful look, eliciting a few cheers and chuckles from the crowd.

“But as thrilled as you all are to cast your eyes upon my stunning visage,” Celestia lightly coughs and turns away when his head whips around to look at her. A few wolf whistles sound out along with another round of laughter as he continues, “I’m sure many of you are exhausted from the journey, no doubt, so I’ll keep this relatively short and, obviously, very informal.

“First let me say that it is an honor to be here today to address you all. Unfortunately, I feel I must start with an apology… and a small complaint. If you all were expecting me to pull off something like that,” he waves to the sun in the eastern sky, “then I am sorry, but I’m afraid you’ll have to give me a few years. In that same vein, I would like to file a complaint with whoever set me up as the second act.” He scowls out over the crowd at nopony in particular. “Not. Cool.”

Amidst the chuckling of ponies a loud throat clear sounds out behind him. He turns and scowls at the princess, getting another round of laughs. “That would be me,” she sheepishly admits.

Cure makes a show of huffing, sits in his haunches, and leans forwards with his forelegs crossed in agitation. “What the hay, princess?!”

She shrugs helplessly and pouts. “It seemed like a good way to start the event. You wouldn’t have wanted to do everything in the dark.” Unmoving, his horn lights up in a bright light. He cocks a brow at her and waves a hoof up. “Mine is bigger,” she responds with a smirk.

His light fizzles out with a whistle and a pop. The colt clasps his hooves over his chest and turns back to the crowd, face full of pain as they roar in laughter. “Right where it hurts!” he cries out, sagging in defeat. “The princess’s infinite cruelty and enormous -”

“Serpentus…”

“- sun aside -”

“Oh.”

“- it is with great, if somewhat battered, pride that I stand before you all on this beautiful summer morning. And although I cannot casually toss around the sun,” he pauses to smirk before adding, “there is still much I can do.” He glances to his left and calls out, “Captain Bladestorm! Front and center!”

All heads look to their right where a well-decorated unicorn steps forward, separating from the rest of her squad. Her horn ignites and, in a blue flash, she teleports away from the mass of soldiers to a meter to the colt’s left on the stage, salutes and holds it until Cure nods, then stands at attention. He turns back to the crowd and explains, “The good captain volunteered to lend a hoof. Eight years ago she lost her right eye in a training accident. At ease, captain. Go ahead and remove your cover.”

She says something to the colt, but without the sound amplification nopony can hear it. “Ah, good point,” he mumbles with a nod. “Parents, the captain expressed a concern about foals or the squeamish seeing the injury. I’ll be using an Illusion to make it more visible for everypony, too. You may want to look away for a moment.” To Cure’s surprise, very few do. The griffons even seem to lean forward slightly for a better look.

The captain removes her helmet and hooks it onto a clasp on her left hip, then removes her eyepatch. Whatever or whoever inflicted the injury must have had some really good aim; very little damage is done to the socket itself, though her deep blue coat does show some burn scars in the area.

It looks like a Firebolt may have gotten past her helmet’s protective enchantments and hit her just right, casting further doubts in his mind that this was the result of any kind of “training.” It’s the classic “one in a million” shot that, somehow, hit her just right to maim but must not have had the power to continue on in what would have been a killing shot.

“Ready, captain?”

A crisp “Sir, yes sir!” is her response.

Eyes are relatively small and have very little mass. It’s one of the main reasons why the mare was selected for the demonstration. He only needs to steal a little fat from her cheeks; not even ten grams total.

He alters his magic color to gold and somewhat cheats, using an Illusion crystal tucked in his mane to project the larger image of her face as he does the work. A few more heads turn away, but that’s fine. Regrowing an eye isn’t really that gross, but the thought of anything touching somepony’s eye makes folks uncomfortable.

It only takes a moment for the colt to fix the surrounding tissue, grow the eye and supporting muscles, regrow her eyelid, and reconnect the repaired nerve tissue to her brain. He lets his horn go dim and, a few seconds later, cuts the Illusion off. She makes a show of blinking a few times, then closes her left eye and looks around before snapping back to attention and barking out an enthusiastic “Sir, thank you, sir!” and giving the colt a salute. Despite her attempted stoicism, Cure can see the slight smile she fails to contain.

He returns the salute and says, “Your service is thanks enough, captain. As you were.” Accepting the dismissal, she takes a half step away, re-covers herself, then Blinks back to her spot with her troops.

Cure waits for the round of cheers to slow before continuing, “I know there is much about me that is unknown. An earth pony foal from Baltimare is the only thing that’s been released publicly. My real name has been withheld. My true appearance has been disguised. There are certainly those among you that have doubt. Maybe a few less now, granted.

“I get it,” he admits, shrugging and nodding in acceptance. “Being unsure about an unknown is only natural. I can only ask that you allow me the opportunity to show you exactly how dedicated I am to improving your lives. I am young, and still only one pony, but I know I can make a difference.

“Beginning Monday, July thirteenth, I will be volunteering at Baltimare Hospital. Any citizen with a condition that can’t be treated locally will be able to arrange transportation to come see me through your Regional Health Authority. While not making rounds I will continue to assist in the development of treatments for afflictions we cannot already address. After all, I cannot be everywhere, but if I can help create the tools our medical professionals need, then I don’t need to be.

“In the past six months I have already submitted a half dozen solutions to problems that have plagued ponykind for… well, ever. As her majesty said, several are still in testing and two have been approved for use. And I assure you, this is just the start.

“I promise that at some point in your life you’ll find yourself explaining to a foal what heart disease was. What cancer was. You’ll have to tell them what being sick, and laid up for days was like. They won’t understand why it took you weeks to heal from a broken bone, or why in the world you would ever have a scar after an injury.”

With the excited murmurs growing in the crowd, he continues more loudly, “I ask nothing from you, save the same patience and understanding you would grant to any foal. Give me time to grow. Give me an opportunity to learn. Give me a chance,” he calls, spreading his wings wide and activating his golden crystal pony glow, “and I will show you what I can do!”

“Well done, young colt,” Blueblood Senior praises. “Quite impressive given how many ponies there were. Most foals would be trembling in their shoes at a tenth of that crowd.”

After Cure’s speech the princess said a few parting words, basically thanking the crowd again and telling them about the festivities in the Town Square that had already begun setting up for the day. As they were leaving several crews swooped down to get started disassembling the stage and the raised seating areas that the VIPs and dignitaries were using. Cure was able to spot his friends and family being ushered back to their carriages.

He, along with the princess and the prince’s family, used a different carriage for their trip back. There was no royal parade for their return, fortunately. Instead, the seven-pony group were loaded into an extravagant, but enclosed carriage and whisked away with only their guardians in escort.

Cure immediately hopped up to lay with the princess on her bench, then met the girls’ eyes and, with a small motion of his head, beckoned them to join the pair. Celestia ended up half on her side, curved around the three foals laying against her belly; Cure happily nuzzling against her left foreleg, Azure Tiara laying in the center, and Misty Twilight using her sister’s back as a pillow, barely getting settled before falling asleep.

Junior remained between his parents for the shorter trip.

“Thanks! The disguise helps with the nerves,” Cure explains, “but my control over my body chemistry is what really makes it easy. I can force my body to maintain an appropriate serotonin level while keeping my adrenaline production in check. By stifling the overproduction of some hormones and encouraging others I can, essentially, keep myself calm under any circumstances.”

With a worried look, Noble Due slowly asks, “Is… that healthy?” The princess, as well as both Bluebloods, look on with some slight concern.

“Absolutely,” he replies with a nod. “I’m just preventing the release of hormones that you would associate with panic. Aside from the fact I’m doing it intentionally with my talent it’s not all that different from simply being used to controlling your emotions normally.

“I would only do it in high stress situations, though. Doing it all the time would make me seem kinda… Well, flat, ya know? Emotionless.” She nods in understanding. “Clearly that’s not me, normally. I’m basically just abusing my talent until I get to the comfort level needed to stand in front of a crowd like that without using it. It’s all perfectly natural, though.”

Tiara settles her chin on his haunch and yawns before remarking, “I have no idea what you’re talking about, but you’re warm and smell like cookies, so I’ll let it slide.”

“We’ll be back at the castle soon, dear niece. Perhaps you and your sister should take a small nap when we return,” Celestia suggests.

A hum of agreement is her only response. Cure can’t blame her. The princess is very warm and the gentle rocking of the carriage is forcing him to fight off a yawn as well. “Maybe I should sneak in a quick power nap too. When is our first rear kissing session… err, meeting starting?”

Carefully avoiding the sleeping fillies, Celestia lightly bonks Cure on the back of his head with her wing, scolding him with a “Behave” to the amused chuckles of the other three. “These will be simple introductions, that is all. It is important to know the ponies that administer the country’s provinces.

“Duke Suncrest will be first since he is over the areas you’ll be operating in most until adulthood. Marquises Merryland and Tailahassee will be there, as will Marchionesses Gulfwing and Yorkshire. You’ve already met Duke Dandy, of course, so there is no need for a meeting with him today.

“From what auntie tells me you and Duke Suncrest should get along famously,” Senior suggests. “Your presence in his region has given him ample reason to brag about the education and social support initiatives his wife spearheaded, even if many attribute little of your success to those endeavors.”

“Yeaaahhh… no offense to Duchess Suncrest or to my teacher, but I spent way more time teaching other foals in school than I did learning. Whatever, if she wants to take credit then I don’t have a good reason to make an issue out of it. The pegasus school, from what the girls say, is pretty nice, so who knows? Maybe her contributions have helped there.”

“It may be easier to allow her the victory than it would be to argue it,” Senior agrees.

“So Duke Suncrest and co first, then Duchess Eventide and her peerage?”

“Correct. Marchionesses Coltifornia and Manesota will be present, as will Marquis Mexicolt. Marchioness Colorodeo was unable to attend.” Celestia adds.

“Oh, wonderful. We are ever so excited to see the good lady Sanction Rebuke Coltifornia,” Blueblood comments with a sneer. “How long must we endure her presence before she slithers back to San Franciscolt?”

“Vladimir!” his wife scolds.

“What? She’s the vacuous sow that allowed Clearwater Estates to be sold off to those worthless Ambermill buffoons!” The stallion snorts in disdain and turns away. “I have two pages of insults in my journal set aside specifically for her esteemed self.”

Noble rolls her eyes while the princess quietly giggles. His wife sighs and looks at Cure to explain, “Clearwater was amongst his favorite producers of chardonnays. The family that owned the estate lost their only heir in an accident back in eighty-eight. When they passed unexpectedly in oh-one it defaulted to the crown. The estate was very quickly auctioned off to the Ambermill family who decided to introduce their own vintages under the Clearwater label. Vladimir has been adamant that the quality has been inadequate since then.”

“Inadequate, she says!” he mocks with a scoff. “Those fools cheapened every ingredient to the point the swill,” he sneers, “is unrecognizable as chardonnay at all. Concord Press’ Ninth Century Private Reserve is inadequate in comparison, beloved. The ‘New’ Clearwater vintages are trash not worth the wax used to seal them!”

“I’m a little lost here,” Cure admits. “What’s all that have to do with the marchioness?”

“Everything!” the stallion energetically declares, throwing his hooves in the air. “I just know she ensured the estate would fall into their hooves! The Ambermills are cousins on her grandsire’s side and, conveniently, were the only family notified that the Clearwater Estate auction had begun!”

Celestia sighs and shakes her head. “I’ve told you a dozen times, nephew. That’s not true! Your allegations were investigated thoroughly. The Ambermills simply placed a higher bid than anypony else, I assure you.”

Rather than accept the explanation, Senior scoffs and turns away. “You were shown manufactured evidence! The Beringers would have been a far better option, I assure you!”

Noble Due sighs again and shakes her head. “Not this again…”

“It’s a travesty!” Senior declares. Cure can only assume this is a common complaint; Junior is shaking in mirth between the two, his face buried between his forelegs as he smothers his laughter. Senior turns back to Cure and adds, “I only have a half of a case remaining. I was saving a couple for when Junior succeeds me, and the others for my sweetlings’ special days.

“You will, of course, be present, so look forward to whichever occurs first, young colt. You shall never have such a rich, well rounded vintage again.” He continues with a wistful tone, “The balance, the viscosity, the way the sweetness of honeysuckle and plum gives way to the more subtle acacia before the crisp tartness of the grapefruit rounds out the experience.” He draws in a deep breath and solemnly adds, “It shall spoil every other wine you sample thereafter.”

“It sounds good, but ya know, I can probably reproduce the stuff with my talent,” Cure suggests with a shrug. “If ya want me to give it a try just bring a bottle and let me scan it.”

Senior’s eyes nearly bug out of his head at the suggestion. “TRULY?” he eagerly asks.

“You just saw me regrow an eyeball. I’ve made blood and organ cloning trees. Unless there’s something inorganic being added in I doubt it’ll be that difficult. I should be able to replicate the effects of aging it in barrels and everything, but even if I can’t reproduce it, I could fool your taste buds into thinking it’s the same.”

“DETOUR!” the stallion shouts as he leaps to his hooves and turns around, reaching for the slot to speak to the driver. The noise and motion earn a whine from his snoozing daughters, both of whom bury their faces between their respective pillows and the princess’s tummy. “Auntie! We must make a detour to Goldenrose immediately!”

“We are not going to your home, nephew,” she sternly rebukes, locking the slot shut with her magic.

“But… but… auntie!” he whines as he looks between her and it. Junior absolutely loses it, snorting in laughter in a very undignified way. Noble presses her face against the carriage’s glass window and sighs a third time.

Celestia just gives the stallion a firm look. “You can send a runner to fetch a bottle, nephew, but we have important ponies to meet.”

Senior’s bottom lip quivers as he gives the mare a pleading look. She stares impassively back, not giving a millimeter. Finally, he takes a deep breath and blows out a long sigh, slouching back in his seat. Snout wrinkled in annoyance, he admits, “A runner cannot get to it! I have the last bottles locked in an underground vault to which only I have the key. No matter!” he shouts, rallying. “I shall make the trip myself immediately upon our arrival at the castle.”

Cure reaches in his mane and pulls out his Sending crystal, floating it to the stallion. “You can use that to Send a message to your coach driver to meet you at the castle. It may save you a few minutes.”

“Fantastic thinking! I assure you, young stallion, if you are indeed able to reproduce the vintage then I shall be in your debt!”

“Cool. Just whenever you do finally meet my family, don’t tell my dam.”

Author's Note

I'm publishing this early (Sunday night) because I'm unsure if I'll have much time to do anything tomorrow.

The big event has finally happened! I'm sure there would be far more ceremony involved, not to mention tons of paperwork and whatnot, but that sounds like as much fun as a meeting with a tax preparer or a lawyer, so all that's getting skipped. I suppose that's fairly in line with canon, though, as i can't recall any such thing happening with Twilight.

The next chapter is done but that "big life change" has shat all over my productivity. The last three weeks were, unfortunately, not accommodating in regards to my writing schedule. I wish I could say it's been a fun vacation, but of the last twenty-five or so days only two were any kind of fun. Meh, such is life at times.

I'll definitely release 81 next week (it takes place immediately after this chapter) but I'm not sure 82 will be ready the following Monday. I'll keep you all updated as I have done all along, at least.

As always, thanks for taking the time to read, rate, and comment.

Enjoy!

Chapter 81: Everypony Loves Meetings

Saturday, June 20th, 909 AB (A few minutes later)

“Are ya sure we shouldn’t be doin this in a meeting room or something? I feel like I’m kinda rubbin their noses in it, ya know?”

“They won’t look at it that way,” she assures him. “The throne room is a perfectly appropriate setting for your first meeting, especially if they have any doubts regarding your position,” she insists as she pulls him against her side with a wing. “They must see you as their prince before anything else, and what better way to show them than having you right here by my side?”

“True… true,” he grants. “Hey, I never got a chance to remove those additions from this morning. Want me to do that now?”

Celestia considers it for a moment before nodding. “Please. I rarely drink, but should the occasion arise when I desire a bottle I would prefer to be able to enjoy it fully.”

Cure furrows his brow and looks up at the princess. “You coulda just said ya wanna get a little buzzed on occasion, boss. Nopony’s judgin ya. Ready?”

Celestia sniffs dismissively and looks away. “I don’t want to get buzzed,” she insists, “but it is nice to be able to relax after a long day from time to time.”

“Mmhmm, sure thing, boss. Going,” he warns, activating his talent and removing the arterial filters. “Funny thing; back when I first got my mark I had joked with my dam about making edibles that would do the same as alcohol, just with less unhealthy side effects.”

The princess cranes her neck to cock a brow at him. “It sounds like you are describing drugs of some kind.”

“Alcohol is a drug. Ointments are drugs. Depending on your definition, salt could be considered a drug,” he starts to argue.

He opens his mouth to continue but pauses when she interrupts with a barely upraised hoof. “I was merely making an observation. If you have a way to create an alternative to alcohol that is less deleterious to one’s health then, by all means, feel free to do so.”

“Oh,” he mumbles, unprepared for such a complete lack of challenge.

“It can be submitted for approval in the same manner as your other inventions. Just ensure that it is not easily abused. While I have no qualms with anypony enjoying a drink, I’m sure you’ve seen what happens when somepony overindulges.”

The somber nod he gives is answer enough.

“Given the relative ease with which you created your trees, I would ask that you work with the physicians in Baltimare to create all manner of medication, in fact. I find it likely that many with adverse side effects could be replaced or improved with your assistance.”

“Yep. That’s on the list. I’m sure Dr. Care is gonna have plenty for me. Hopefully the hospital won’t be completely overwhelmed with special requests for treatment. Director Storm said they would prioritize severe cases, but if somepony coughs up the bits and hops on a train without the involvement of the Health Authorities I’m still gonna see ‘em.”

She dips her head in an understanding nod. “As long as you are not overdoing it,” she trails off in warning. She turns back to look at her seneschal as he pulls open the door.

One by one, immaculately dressed ponies enter the room, the first a pair of unicorns with their heads held high. “Announcing their graces, Duke and Duchess Suncrest, the esteemed Marchioness Gulfwing, Marquis Merryland, Marchioness Yorkshire, and Marquis Tailahassee.”

The small procession takes its time entering the long room walking two abreast, giving Cure ample opportunity to survey the group. The duke is slightly overweight, a commonality amongst unicorns, though underneath the excess there are signs of well developed musculature that the colt has come to associate with ponies that have served.

His deep orange coat and red mane are similar to Dawn’s, though the red is a deeper shade approaching burgundy or maroon instead of her crimson. Unlike the vast majority of ponies, Duke Suncrest has legitimate facial hair; he sports the classic “imperial” style mustache in the same shade as his mane. In the colt’s opinion it looks far more silly than anything he would consider dignified.

His wife has the typical “city pony” look one would expect from a mare that has led an easy life. While she is not overweight at all, she shows little to no evidence of exercising with soft features and a petite frame. The hat, white dress, and red sash reminds Cure of something straight out of Mary Poppins. It looks nice and all, but the colt can’t help but think she would look better naked. She has an absolutely stunning golden coat that makes him wonder if she has a Crystal Pony ancestor somewhere in her family tree.

A single look at Marchioness Gulfwing is all it takes for Cure to recognize a military mare. With well defined pectorals and barely an ounce of fat visible anywhere, the cream colored pegasus nearly marches through the room to Marquis Merryland’s right. Her mane is a nearly electric blue and is swept back in a long, braided ponytail ending between her wings. She is the only one in the group wearing nothing.

Marquis Tailahassee is, like the other two stallions, dressed in a smart looking business suit. While Suncrest and Merryland both are a little overweight, the light green stallion’s sides are bulging, straining the buttons on his jacket. Despite being slightly shorter than the other two, he more than makes up for the mass difference with his added girth.

Marchioness Yorkshire walks to his right in a smart, silver dress with crisp folds and straight lines Cure associates more with a business suit than anything. It’s slightly lighter than her mane and matches her dark, black coat quite well. She is nearly as tall as the unicorn stallions and has a willowy frame. She walks with confidence and poise reminding Cure of a strict teacher evaluating her pupils.

Their ages vary with Gulfwing and the Suncrests seemingly in their mid thirties, Yorkshire and Merryland perhaps nearer fourty-five, and Tailahassee the eldest in his mid to late fifties or early sixties.

The group splits a few meters short of the base of the throne with the stallions on the duke’s left and the mares on the duchess’ right. Once lined up they drop into formal bows while simultaneously calling out “Your Majesties” in greeting. Unlike every Earth culture Cure can think of, gendered pronouns and titles typically default to female when one is in the group, so while Cure’s brain ticks at the female address, he doesn’t let it show at all.

“Rise,” Celestia commands, allowing them to stand before the pair. “Good morning to you all.”

Various replies of “Good morning, your majesty” sound out from the group.

“Oh come now, let us be done with the pageantry and formality,” she insists, flicking her right wing in dismissal. The ponies all relax their postures, but only the Suncrests and Tailahassee dispel their stoic expressions. “There! Much better. Allow me to introduce you all to Prince Serpentus. Serpentus, I believe you know everypony’s name, correct?”

“I do. It’s a pleasure to meet you all. Since you are all the leaders of this nation, I don’t believe a disguise is necessary,” he says, reverting his colors to his typical sky blue and light green. He keeps his new cutie mark in place as he climbs down off the throne, walking down the ramp towards the duke, and extending his hoof in greeting. “Duke Suncrest, it’s a pleasure to make your acquaintance. When we’re in private feel free to call me by my given name, Cure Wave, or simply Cure if you prefer.”

The stallion smiles broadly and reaches out, bumping the shorter colt’s hoof. “It’s a pleasure to meet you as well, young stallion,” he says in a posh Canterlot accent. “I hope we can look forward to working together for the betterment of Equestria for many years!”

“Me too!” he happily chirps. “I’ve got lots of ideas, and I’m sure you’ll all be pretty happy with the results once the NHA finishes testing them.”

Cure looks to his left at the duchess and extends his hoof to her as well. When she reaches out to bump hooves he instead loops his under her fetlock, kissing the mare’s pastern before looking up to meet her eyes. “Greetings to you, Duchess Suncrest. I can’t help but wonder… How many times has your husband had to fight off a dragon trying to steal you for their hoard?”

Struck speechless, the golden mare blushes brilliantly as she quietly mumbles, “Oh… oh my!” then breaks down into giggles, demurely hiding her muzzle behind her hoof. Duke Suncrest clearly approves of the flattery of his wife as his smile threatens to split his face. The mare finally gets her wits about her and, though her cheeks still have a faint dusting of pink, she formally responds, “It is wonderful to meet you, Prince… Cure?” she finishes with a questioning lilt.

He nods in response, prompting her to more assertively finish, “Prince Cure, then. Forgive me for asking, but may I know your age?”

“Nine now. I was born almost exactly nine years and ninety minutes ago just as her majesty raised the sun in Baltimare for the Celebration there.”

“Amazing,” she breathily comments. “To be so young and yet so eloquent! We simply must meet to discuss your schooling experiences some day. Oh, but of course you would be wise beyond your years! As any would expect of a true alicorn!” she beams, turning her head slightly towards Marquis Merryland.

The stallion barely reacts, wrinkling his snout before schooling his features under the gaze of a dozen eyes. Tailahassee barks out a single “HA!” and, more subtly, Marchioness Gulfwing quietly blows out a single chuckle. Yorkshire doesn’t respond verbally, but does turn her head to face him more directly, giving the colt an analytical look.

“Young Cure’s experience in school will differ quite a bit from the norm,” Celestia interrupts. “He has already completed the Early Graduation Test, averaging just shy of ninety-eight percent across the five core subjects. He is quite the prodigy for his age.”

“Impressive!” Duke Suncrest cheers. “Quite impressive, indeed!”

“Thank you,” Cure nods in acceptance, moving left to greet Marchioness Gulfwing. The mild snub to his own marquis is not terribly subtle, but he couldn’t care less. “Marchioness Gulfwing, it’s a pleasure. I’ve very much enjoyed the few opportunities I’ve had to take in your city over the last several weeks. It’s a shame that I haven’t really had the time to really visit the sights, but work before pleasure,” he offers with a defeated shrug.

Unlike most cities, Cloudsdale is governed by a Marchioness, owing to its population and unique circumstances. The management of the weather facilities and the movement of the city itself prompted the elevation of the original Count Gulfwing to Marquis several centuries ago.

“Thank you, sir. It’s the most beautiful city in the world,” she proudly declares.

“That may very well be the case,” he agrees before moving to the left again. “Marchioness Yorkshire. I haven’t had the opportunity to travel up north much, but I admit I have more than a passing interest in the exchanges hosted in your fine city.

“My sire specializes in real estate, but I had encouraged him to attend a commodities seminar hosted in Canterlot back in January. If you have an exceptional financial planner I would very much appreciate a referral. I know I’m young, but I’m also well aware that time is the most powerful force in the world.”

The mare cocks a single brow in surprise as she responds, “That’s amazing. So very few foals grasp the importance of planning ahead. To be so young yet so… aware,” she trails off with a hint of awe. She glances left to Merryland then back up to the princess for a moment before turning her focus back to the colt, taking him in fully. After a few seconds of thought she asks, “You truly are the real deal, aren’t you?”

“I am. I understand ponies have doubts. That’s fine,” he says with an indifferent shrug. “Like I’ve said before, everypony can think what they want as long as they keep everything professional.”

“I assure you,” Celestia begins, “Prince Cure is indeed a legitimate alicorn. Though the vast majority of his abilities will not develop for several years, he does already possess a confidential one that no other pony could possibly replicate.”

“Confidential? To even us?” Duke Suncrest questions.

“Yes,” Celestia replies. “There are some abilities that my mentor, Star Swirl the Bearded, advised us to keep in confidence above all others. Regardless, the truth will be undeniable in about five years when his tail and mane start transitioning to an ethereal state.”

The duke’s eyes go wide at the “us” in her statement and, without turning his head away from the princess, he asks, “He knows about…?” and trails off, glancing between the two.

“He does. He is aware of the prophecy regarding her return as well. Harmony granted him insight with his ascension. There are many, many things he knows that I did not need to tell him about.”

“I see. Very well, your majesty. I assure you, any lingering doubts my wife or I had have been thoroughly cast aside!” he declares, his wife nodding in agreement.

“I’ve been thinking on that,” Cure muses. “I can’t send letters like you can yet, but you mentioned being able to send them to me now.”

“An excellent point!” she all but shouts, perking up at the suggestion. Her horn flashes and a piece of paper, ink, and a quill materialize in front of her. Everypony watches raptly as she writes a quick note and her horn glows again, this time igniting the paper. The smoke shoots up into the air, does a loop around the room, collects in front of his horn, and reforms.

Merryland deflates slightly when the spell succeeds. The others nod in approval, happy to see concrete evidence of the colt’s legitimacy.

Cure catches the note in his magic and begins asking, “That’s not something unicorns can…” trailing off as his eyes travel across the page. “I.O.U. two dozen caramels?” he reads aloud. His head snaps up to the throne with a look of disbelief. “You ate my caramels?!” he shrieks to the quiet chuckles of the nobles.

“I wanted a snack.”

“You have servants! Have somepony fetch you some!”

“But they were right there!”

“I hid ‘em inside my tree!”

“Well… maybe next time you should hide them better if you do not intend to share,” she insists, snout raised in haughtiness. “And no, no other tribe can send or receive letters like that.”

Cure growls in frustration at the elder alicorn, though he does manage to regain his composure upon hearing the chuckles from the surrounding ponies. A few more quiet snickers escape the group as he huffs and turns away from her victorious smirk.

He makes his way over to Merryland and reaches out to bump the stallion’s hoof in greeting. “Marquis Merryland. I appreciate your efforts ensuring everypony’s safety and comfort. My family and friends all asked that I also convey their gratitude for the accommodations on their journey here.”

Returning the colt’s bump, Merryland nods in acceptance. “It was my pleasure, your highness. Please don’t hesitate to call upon myself or, upon my retirement, my son as needed. We will continue to serve faithfully, as we always have. And…” he hesitates, blowing out a sigh, “I apologize for any offense that may have arisen in regards to our previous meeting.”

“Apology accepted. Truthfully, I wasn’t upset or offended at all. Water under the bridge,” Cure insists as he gives him a genuine smile and a nod.

He steps past Merryland to Marquis Tailahassee and, as soon as he gets close enough, the stallion energetically thrusts a hoof out and belts out a loud, “Put ‘er there, partner!” in a thick southern accent. “I can’t tell ya how excited I am ta see ya ain’t some snooty what’n’what like most’a these city ponies.

“And maker help me, ya got a way with words, colt!” he shouts with a laugh. “I pity the other colts what live ‘round you, son! I bet you got a whole herd ‘a fillies lookin ta tie ya down!”

Cure smiles sheepishly as he bumps the large stallion’s hoof. “Guilty as charged, my good stallion. Guilty as charged. So tell me, what’s the water like down there between New Horseleans and Tampa Neigh? I’m partial to blue water and white beaches, but all we’ve got in Baltimare are rocks. Rocks friggin everywhere!” he loudly bemoans.

“That ya do, son! If’n yer lookin fer beaches like that then Tampa Neigh is what you want, especially on the west side of the city. If her majesty works ya too hard and ya need a break, you just send a message my way, colt! I got me a spot overlookin the pertiest beach you ever seen just southwest ‘a the city. I’d be downright honored ta host ya whenever ya want!”

“Awesome! I’m sure I’ll take ya up on that sometime. Maybe in a year or two I’ll be able to swing a nice vacation home down there.”

“Ehh, just ta warn ya, waterfront land ain’t cheap.”

“That’s okay, business is booming. By the end of the year I should have almost a half mill saved up, minus whatever I invest in local properties.”

All heads whip his direction as Tailahassee recoils at the number. “What in tarnation are ya doin ta earn that at nine, colt?!”

Cure extends his hoof to the stallion and responds, “Cosmetics. Want to look ten years younger and feel like yer twenty again?”

The stallion doesn’t hesitate to take the offered hoof, gaping as his vision sharpens and all the little aches and pains disappear. “Hold on a sec,” Cure instructs, reaching into his mane to withdraw a paper bag. He passed it to the stallion, telling him, “For your crowns and fillings,” before continuing his work.

The loose pieces of silver break off in the stallion’s mouth and, with as much dignity as one can, he proceeds to spit them in the bag.

“All set, bud,” the colt announces as he takes a step back. “How ya feelin?”

The stallion looks down at his knees as he lowers himself almost to his barrel, then rises back up again. Cure watches as he runs his tongue over his teeth and looks around in wonder, eyes finally landing on the princess. “Fifteen years since mah eyes started failin me,” he bemoans. “What luck ta get ‘em back a’fore the most beautiful sight a stallion could ever hope ta see!” he bellows joyfully.

“Smooth,” Cure quietly compliments.

Celestia rolls her eyes as she giggles, fanning herself with her left hoof. “Surge, you old charmer, you!” she calls in teasing.

He looks back to Cure and gives him a respectful nod. “That answers that just fine. Good on ya, son. Just what all didjya fix, if ya don’t mind my askin.”

“Everything that needed it. I’d recommend a diet change, and with more time I can do more, but I’m still a foal, so despite being an alicorn my magic pool is pretty limited. Give me a few years and that won’t be a problem anymore.”

The stallion nods in understanding. “Now when you say everything…” he leads, trailing off.

The three mares standing to his right each let out a groan or a sigh.

“Everything,” he confirms, then Messages << Your heart was on borrowed time. I fixed it and also that. Alicorn of Life, bud. Enjoy. >>

“Well butter my biscuits, colt. I might just name my next three sons after you.”

“Seaspray, for the love of the maker!” Duchess Suncrest calls in exasperation while facehoofing.

“Yer on your own for that, marquis. At least, for now you are,” he cryptically adds. Spreading his wings, he hops in the air and glides backwards to land at the top of the ramp just in front of the throne. “It’s been great meeting you all.

“I look forward to working with each of you, your daughters, sons, grandfoals, and thereon. No pony is an island. As I said earlier, I cannot do everything. When the day comes that I call upon you, I hope that we can work together to ensure Equestria has a long, bright, and healthy future.”

All six take the dismissal in stride, bowing deep to the alicorns before standing, taking a single step back, and with the Suncrests leading, turn on their hooves to depart. As the door closes behind them, Cure climbs back on the throne and sits by the princess’s left shoulder, leaning bodily against her withers. “That went pretty well,” he comments.

“How many dragons has your husband had to fight off?” she teasingly mocks.

Cure sighs and leans into her with a nuzzle. “Envy is an ugly emotion, even on a beautiful mare, princess.”

Celestia scoffs and rolls her eyes. “Regardless, very well done, Cure. You managed that quite effectively.”

“Thanks, boss,” he says, leaning against her neck. “Tailahassee… Seaspray Surge?” she nods, so he continues, “He seems like quite the character.”

“He always was a mares stallion. If he can get the weight off of him I’m sure he’ll be up to his old antics in no time.”

“Good for him. So, what should I expect from the next group?”

“Much the same, I would expect. Simply be your normal charming self and all should be well.”

Scoffing, the colt flicks a wing in dismissal. “Of course. Duh. How could they not love me? I’m freaking adorable.”

“... Quite right,” she flatly agrees.

The colt’s head swivels to the base of the ramp where the sound of a small cough sounds out. “You gettin a cold there, specialist?”

“Sir, no sir! Must have had something in my throat, sir!”

“Uh huh. That musta been it,” he agrees as the princess’s side shakes in quiet laughter. “Well let’s get this show on the road,” he calls, meeting the seneschal’s eyes and giving him a nod.

The unicorn opens the doors and steps through as Cure settles back into his position on the princess’s side. He presses his right cheek against her shoulder and takes deep breath through his snout, humming in contentment as he nuzzles her side.

She graces him with a smile and asks, “Are you not reverting your appearance?”

“Nah. I’m workin under the assumption that if you trust them enough to put them in such high positions then I should trust ‘em too. That and I don’t want them to think I’m favoring Duke Suncrest’s peerage any more than I am just by residing there.”

She gives him an approving nod. “Good. Despite my nephew’s misgivings, they are indeed trustworthy and highly competent ponies. They know what is expected of them,” she assures him.

“I figured. Also, there’s the fact that my identity leaking at some point is all but inevitable. I’m probably going to be spending as much time as ‘Serpentus’ as I will myself over the next few months just to acclimate everypony in Baltimare to seeing an alicorn walking around. You wouldn’t… Well, you would probably believe the stares I was getting when I went to town hall.”

She lets out a defeated chuckle while nodding. “It’s as if they are waiting for you to do something astounding, even when you are simply walking about, is it not?”

“Yep. I’ve started calling it the ‘Alicorn gape,’” he explains, then mimics the wide-eyed, slack jawed, dumb look he gets when he has gone out.

The two share a quiet chuckle as the door reopens admitting the seneschal who stands to the side and calls out, “Presenting her grace, Duchess Eventide, the esteemed Marchioness Manesota, Marquis Mexicolt, and Marchioness Coltifornia.”

The alicorns quickly school their features and sit up regally as the group enters.

Duchess Eventide, much like Nurse Gentle Heart, has an absolutely gorgeous dark blue coat reminiscent of Luna’s. Her dress is silver like Yorkshire’s was, though is much more elegant and flowy with deep blue stars trailing down the sides. She wears a coronet, earrings, and necklace, all richly decorated in deep blue sapphires.

The unicorn mare walks in the lead, her three peerage members trailing behind her. Manesota is a light blue pegasus mare with a bright yellow mane. Surprisingly, Mexicolt is a muscular earth pony stallion. Like Cure’s great grandsire, he has a light brown coat and much deeper brown mane. The final member of the party is Coltifornia, another unicorn mare; this one with a sandy yellow coat and royal blue mane.

As with Suncrest’s peerage, the duchess approaches the ramp slightly to her left and stops shortly in front of it. The other three align on her right and, once formed up, all of them drop into a bow.

Only Eventide speaks up, calling out a basic greeting to the royals. “Your majesty. Your highness.”

As before, Celestia puts an end to the formalities, introducing the colt to everypony before he hops down off the throne to approach them.

“I take it this is your undisguised appearance?” Eventide inquires.

“Yep! I figured if we’re gonna be workin together you all ought to get to know the real me. Cure Wave,” he says as he offers his hoof in greeting, “or Prince Cure if need be. I’ll keep being Serpentus as long as the alias holds, I hope you understand.”

“Presumably you wish to avoid being accosted while going about in public. I do hope you intend to keep this a temporary arrangement?” she inquires.

“Probably,” he noncommittally agrees. “At least until I’m older. I started doing cosmetic alterations shortly after getting my mark,” he explains. “One of my filly friends is a pegasus and I gave her a bluejay pattern on her wings. A few hours later I had a couple dozen pegasi swarmin my house wanting to get something done as well.”

“The local guard unit had to intervene,” Celestia adds. “And that was prior to the revelation that he could heal as effectively as he can. I’m sure you can all imagine your own foals receiving such attention.”

“Quite burdensome,” the duchess easily agrees, “and yet so incredibly invaluable.”

“That’s me in a nutshell!” he agrees with a nod.

“I find the deception somewhat unbecoming,” Marquis Mexicolt begins. Cure had expected a more casual manner of speaking from the only earth pony leader, but his high-society accent is even more pronounced than the duchess’s is. “While I recognize the desire to maintain your privacy, I would prefer a fellow earth pony to step forward to be an example for all.”

“Me too, and someday I will. I will be around for a long, long time, Marquis. I am sure few will begrudge me for trying to enjoy what little foalhood I’ll have left before that day though.”

The stallion’s features soften as he nods in acknowledgement.

“That’s fine and good, but when are you going to assist our citizens with their foals?” Marchioness Coltifornia demands. “I hope you’re not going to ignore the needs of half the nation.”

“This was his first season since his ascension, Marchioness,” Celestia cooly interjects. “Do not forget, he is but only a foal. He has been here in the capital, away from his friends and family, lending a hoof for over two weeks already. If I recall correctly, your sire did not have you assisting him with his duties until your early twenties, no?”

The mare’s snout scrunches at the admonishment, though she does begrudgingly accept the princess’s point with a nod. “Apologies. I did not intend to pressure his highness unnecessarily. I only wish for my own citizens to receive the same treatment offered to those here in the capital and in Cloudsdale.”

“You’re absolutely right, Marchioness,” Cure agrees, “and if there was a feasible way for me to help everypony I would leap at the opportunity. As I said this morning, I cannot be everywhere. All I can do for now is help where I can and see if anypony has suggestions for ways I can improve the birthing process.

“The Origin Cell Trees I have developed should help immensely with the recovery from caedares procedures, so any mares that have to go through that will, quite possibly, heal even faster than ones that give birth naturally.”

“Wish we’d had those when mine were born,” Manesota confesses, speaking for the first time. “It felt like the doctor cut me all the way to my chin.”

Seeing the opportunity to ingratiate himself to the mare, Cure approaches and offers his hoof. “If there’s any scarring or lingering issues I can fix it easily. I can also shave a few years off you if you’d like.”

The mare looks between him and his hoof for only a second before reaching out. Though he’d used a lot of magic on Tailahassee, Cure’s extra mass has allowed him to recharge enough to clear out any scarring and smooth out her skin and coat. He revitalizes her joints, removes age lines on her face, and re-colors her graying, slightly faded coat, mane, and feathers at the same time.

Duchess Eventide sucks in a breath as a couple decades are casually wiped away from her subordinate, watching in awe as the clock seems to wind backwards on the mare. Manesota’s eyes widen when she spreads her wings and looks over her suddenly brighter colors. “Maker above…”

“I humbly withdraw my complaint,” Mexicolt solemnly intones. “Even more than replacing an eye, that would certainly see your home swarmed by the masses. Is it overly tiring?”

“Those few cosmetic changes? I can do that once every twenty minutes or so.”

“Fantastic,” Coltifornia breathily mumbles.

He reaches in his mane and pulls out an invoice, hoofing it over to the gaping pegasus. She takes it and reads it over as the duchess raises a brow in question. Manesota finishes reading it and bursts out in laughter, then passes the paper to Eventide. She steps forward and scoops the colt up, wrapping him in a wing hug while the duchess reviews the form. Cure leans into the hug, figuring if mares are willing to snuggle on him it’s his Harmony-given duty to oblige them.

“Total bill,” the duchess reads, cracking a smile, “one wing hug, due at time of service.” She softly chuckles and passes it back to Manesota once she releases him. “Well played, highness.”

He gives the mare a small smile, then turns to walk back up the ramp to the throne. “There’s no reason we can’t all be friends, duchess,” he says, calling back over his withers. He walks around the side of the throne and hops up, leaning heavily against the princess as he lays down. “I’ll see what I can do to help your cities out as much as I’ve helped Cloudsdale and Canterlot. It may not be next season or even next year, but I promise I am working on it.

The casual showing of affection between the two alicorns is noted by the group. He continues, “I’ve only had my mark for nine months. I’m still learning and exploring what I can do. Like I said this morning; give me time to grow. I don’t think you’ll be disappointed.”

“We look forward to seeing the results,” she formally announces, leading the rest in another bow before departing.

As the doors close behind Duchess Eventide’s peerage, Cure tiredly rolls onto his right side, sliding down Celestia’s left and blows out a long sigh. Careful not to jab her with either his horn or his crown, he twists his head upside down and gives her a playful nip on the edge of her wing, earning a soft bonk to his chin and a weak scowl.

The colt narrows his eyes at the ancient mare and raises his forehooves menacingly. The princess cocks a brow, clearly unimpressed. Slowly, and keeping his head completely still through the combination of his TK abilities, practice, and his cheating talent, he tucks his hooves tight and rolls left onto his barrel. His head twists nearly a hundred and eighty degrees in an instant, snapping to a stop so his chin is parallel with and ducked down near the surface of the throne between his forehooves.

The motion itself gets a cringe from the mare while her own neck weeps in sympathy at the abuse.

Wings slowly raising and spreading, the predator prepares to pounce. Celestia has to fight down the giggles as his booty raises in the air, swishing side to side like a kitten. His lips curl. His canines show. His body stills. His pupils dialate. And just as he prepares to launch himself, a giant, white wing comes crashing down, smothering him against her side.

Rather than the expected struggle, the princess is treated to the soft sounds of a fake snore. Another mirthful chuckle escapes her. As much as Cure would love to take a real nap, that is, sadly, not an option at the moment. Despite being done formally meeting the higher placed ponies in Equestria’s executive branch, he still has to get through the royal introductions with ambassadors from afar.

When she finally releases him he slides down her side to snuggle against her again. “Two for two, I would say.”

“I agree. You’ve done well to show them the value in supporting you. You will be able to keep their loyalty so long as you can continue doing so.”

“Well I ain’t goin nowhere, so even if it takes a minute for my creations to trickle over to ‘em they’ll still benefit immensely. I do have a bit of a critique though, if you don’t mind.” She turns her neck to give him a curious look. “There is absolutely no way you’re oblivious to it, right? I mean, you know what I’m about to say about the ponies you’ve got in charge, don’t you?”

“I have a sneaking suspicion, yes. It’s a criticism that’s been made hundreds of times, and sadly, it’s one I cannot dispute. The overwhelming majority of the upper echelons of nobility are unicorns,” she admits in a defeated tone.

“I promise it is not by design,” she quickly assures, “but rather simply because unicorns tend to gravitate to cities where education and opportunities are more abundant. Pegasi do as well, but with so many in either Cloudsdale and Las Pegasus they have limited representation elsewhere. If it is any comfort, when you factor in Commons members and city mayors, especially metropolitan suburbs, earth ponies have more representation than any tribe.”

The legislative branch functions of the government are split between two groups. Ed only had a passing familiarity with the parliament in the UK, but the setup sounds roughly the same. Each major metropolitan area’s count, countess, or other ruling noble designates two lords or ladies to represent their city’s interests in the House of Nobles.

The same applies to higher nobles with each designated (not their spouse) marquis, marchioness, duke, and duchess for a total of seventy representatives. Each one serves for a minimum of five years, though typically they stay in the position for life or until they are ready to, with their liege’s blessing, pass the role to their heir.

The House of Commons is their counterpart. Serving six year terms and appointed by popular vote, there are three hundred members appropriated to each metropolitan area, one for about every ten thousand ponies in a rather arbitrarily drawn district. Some are assigned to vast swathes of land, others only a few blocks in a city. Cure doesn’t know how exactly the districts are determined, but at least on paper the elected officials are supposed to represent their citizens.

Celestia continues, “Bat ponies are, in my opinion, the most underrepresented. Of course, that’s only until you factor their much lower population numbers compared to the other tribes.”

He mulls it over for a moment before slowly nodding in acceptance. It’s very likely true; earth ponies tend to live in more suburban or rural areas. Unicorns would have more opportunities to gain the wealth and status needed to accrue political power. In the rare event that a noble house falls or ends and another needs elevated, a unicorn is more likely to be positioned to step in.

“Has there ever been an objective analysis on education quality by tribe and region? Standardized education was something attempted… you know,” he says leadingly. “I’m not completely sure if it was what you would call an overwhelming success, but a more formalized approach than a mixed age schoolhouse would probably be beneficial. Hay, you already do it with pegasi to some degree.”

“I’m sure Chancellor Valor would have access to such statistics. I’ve not heard complaints regarding any inadequacies from concerned parties,” she insists. “If you would like to, you are well within your rights to arrange a meeting with her. You are a fully recognized prince now, after all.”

The Chancellery acts in a similar capacity as the “Secretary” positions under the presidents from Ed’s memories, advising the princess and managing the top level departments of the Equestrian government. Earned through merit instead of inheritance, the positions themselves do not automatically convey noble titles, though they do traditionally earn the occupants one after a few years of service. Even without the noble title a chancellor has, in some ways, as much or more political power than a marquis or marchioness.

The role of the marquis and marchioness positions is roughly equivalent to a state’s governor. They fulfill the executive branch obligations for the provinces they, essentially, rule under the authority of the duke or duchess responsible for their area. The split divides the country into two on a roughly southwest-to-northeast line passing just west of Canterlot.

While literally any creature, citizen or not, can directly petition her majesty, the two regional dukes, as well as the marquises and marchionesses, also have lower courts of their own in their respective provinces. Unlike the princess, those slots are by appointment only. Celestia insists walk-ins will always be welcome, arguing that ponies have potentially traveled for days just to see her and should be able to without prior approval.

Duke Dandy Dresser acts as yet another filter for the princess, overseeing many of the executive branch functions in Canterlot and the nearby Detrot Metropolitan Area and, occasionally, assisting with international issues that crop up. His role sounds more like an archduke’s to Cure, even if he doesn’t have the higher title.

Cure scrunches his snout in thought and considers if the education issue is something he wants to take on. Eventually, by all means, but there’s not an easy solution available as far as he can tell. Without effective transportation options there really isn’t a great way to ferry earth pony and unicorn foals to a centralized school building.

He knows setting up a streetcar kind of operation could mitigate that in some areas, but even if he had complete designs in hoof ready to go it would still be a multi-year endeavor just for his home town.

Smaller, self-propelled wagons would be easier, especially if they can be enclosed and climate controlled. It’s still not a perfect solution due to the need for drivers, maintenance crew, logistics ponies, administration, and flatter, better roadways. Still, it’s a step in the right direction at least.

He recognizes that transportation is only one small factor as well. The move from the schoolhouse model to central, public schools took decades or, in some more rural areas, the better part of a century. It’s also not something he knows how to achieve, nor does he have the slightest inkling where the money for such a project would need to come from.

Still, better education is the first step in any long term project with an eventual goal of uplifting a society, and if a plurality of the country’s foals are receiving a substandard education then any effort to highlight and remedy the shortcoming cannot be a complete waste.

“I don’t know if a meeting is necessary. I would, however, appreciate seeing what kind of results are produced from a suburban or rural area versus a metropolitan one on a standardized test. If there’s a marked difference in education quality with an easily identified cause then I’d be failing that ‘nurture’ pledge in damn near record time by simply turning a blind eye towards it. I just wish I would’a thought of that when Duchess Suncrest was in here.”

“She would likely be a fantastic ally,” Celestia agrees. “Perhaps you should discuss it with her at your next meeting.”

“I think I will… but that’s for later. Who’s next? The Saddle Arabians, griffons, then minotaurs, right?”

Nodding, Celestia answers, “First is Ambassador Ahmad and his family, then Ambassador Darius, and finally Ambassador Quickhorn.”

“Great,” he sighs out. “Which one will we be meeting with when your nephew blasts in here with a bottle?”

She chuckles warmly and shakes her head. “None, I’m sure. He wouldn’t want them mistaking the bottle for an offering. Have no doubt, though; he’ll be eager to pull you aside at his first opportunity. I admit, I’m curious as to why you seem to be making such an effort to indebt him to yourself,” she comments with an evaluating look. “Gifts for his foals, dancing with his daughters, even allowing them to snuggle on you. I had expected you to resent his initial faux pas.”

“That kinda thinking is just something I’ve come to expect from most unicorns,” he dismisses. The explanation that Cure outright expects bigotry from an entire tribe shocks and upsets the alicorn; something she lets show with a hurt frown. “What? That surprises you?” he asks with genuine curiosity.

“Of course it does!” she responds in a raised voice. She rolls her back half onto her right side and cranes her front leftwards to more directly face the colt. “Is that so common that you’ve simply accepted such behavior as inevitable?”

“Not… inevitable, per se. Definitely not outside of expectations, though. It’s happened a couple times in my hometown.” Not wanting to sour the mare’s opinion of his fillyfriend’s dam, he chooses to not bring up Emerald Aura’s interference in his or Solar’s relationships. Velvet Stitch’s initial reaction to him entering her store may have been just because he was a colt in a boutique, but Mr. Binder’s (one of the librarians) dismissal of him becoming a doctor someday is still fresh in his mind.

“But that area is predominantly earth ponies,” she points out. Cure simply shrugs and nods in acknowledgement. “Has that happened while you’ve been in Canterlot?”

“I haven’t gone out as an earth pony. I’ve always been in one disguise or another. We were getting enough looks at the Wonderbolts opener that your guards had to interpose themselves between us and some of the pegasi. I know you could probably disguise yourself with a spell,” he says mostly so any listening guards will overhear and assume she may not already do just that. “Have you ever gone into the city looking like an earth pony?”

“I haven’t,” she admits. “Specialist Clamor?” she calls, turning to face the pony closest to the ramp on her right.

He pivots on his left legs, steps to his right so he is front and center, and snaps to attention with his heavy shield planted on his left side. “Ma’am! Yes, ma’am?” he sharply responds.

“At ease, specialist. I ask that you speak freely.” The start of a cringe crosses his features before he schools his face flat. The expression, brief as it was, doesn’t escape her notice. “I… can only assume you have experienced similar unwarranted treatment?” she asks in a disappointed tone, clearly already knowing the answer.

In a more conversational tone, he answers while slowly nodding. “Yes, ma’am. Not in my current position, of course, but out of uniform, sometimes, and back before my promotion. The worst were evening patrols in the northeast part of the city when I was a corporal.”

At her curious look he continues. “The residents there didn’t pay me much mind when I was a private, ma’am. Corporal Slipknot was good at calming down anypony that started raising a fuss. When I promoted and started leading patrols myself I had to do the same. She… they didn’t get as nasty with her, ma’am.”

“Is … Sergeant Slipknot?” Cure verifies her current rank with Spc. Clamor who nods. “Is she a unicorn?”

Cure overhears Spc. Redshift when he leans closer to his sergeant and whispers, “The wings on that mare,” then grunts. They must be something else because the unicorn quietly mumbles his agreement.

“Pegasus, sir,” Clamor answers, briefly glancing to his right at the pair. “She would get an occasional ‘featherhead’ or ‘birdbrain’ comment, but nothing too out of line.”

“But with you?” Celestia leads.

The specialist hesitates a second, obviously more than a little uncomfortable blurting out offensive slurs directly in front of the two royals. Helpful as always, Cure decides to lend him a hoof. “Mud pony? Dirt horse? Shit shoveler? Ground pounder? I’m sure there’s a few fancy ways of calling somepony stupid I can’t come up with at the moment.”

The princess cranes her neck to look back with a scowl. “That is more than enough, Cure.”

“You’re welcome,” he gleefully chirps despite the lack of thanks.

“Uhh… some of those are new to me, sir, but that’s the gist of it.”

“I am immensely disappointed to hear that, specialist. I do appreciate your candor, though. Never doubt that you can speak up if something similar happens in the future.” More forcefully she insists, “I shall not abide such disparaging treatment of those sworn to protect us, nor shall I accept that derogatory, tribalistic behavior should be so common that even our young have come to accept it as expected,” she venomously finishes.

“I’m not sure that’s something you can just ‘fix’ exactly,” Cure points out. “Acceptance typically only comes with exposure, and I’m not sure how to increase that in a way that wouldn’t instead foster resentment.”

“Surely you don’t propose that nothing be done?”

Don’t say “Don’t call me Shirley.” It’s not funny when nopony gets the reference.

“I’m just saying you can’t force it and trying will likely cause ponies to dig their hooves in even further. If you wanna write up a law sayin ‘Don’t be a prick’ you certainly could. Issuing tickets… prickets,” he amends with a smirk, “for it may be a good way to fund whatever initiative you come up with to actually address the problem.

“Maybe some in-school tribal harmony classes?” he suggests. “Foals will almost certainly be more receptive to change than adults that are set in their ways.”

The princess mulls it over a second before nodding. “It’s an idea, at least. I believe Duke Dandy will be a good leader for the initiative.”

Cure’s initial response is that she’s putting a unicorn in charge again, but he recognizes that any such program probably would do better spearheaded by “one of them” instead of somepony else. An earth pony suddenly elevated to an alicorn prince probably isn’t going to convince them to change their ways due to still, technically, being an outsider.

“Thank you for your honesty, Specialist Clamor,” she continues, gracing him with a grateful smile. “I promise that we will make an effort to correct such reprehensible behavior going forward.”

The guard thanks her and ducks his head in a bow, then retakes his place at the base of the throne.

“Sounds like a plan, boss. As far as your nephew is concerned, I basically treat all of them how I would want to be treated,” he easily answers. “It seems to be working fairly well so far. Also, I see him or, more likely, his son, as potential allies if not business partners at some point. He’s a lot better than what I expected based on prior assumptions.”

“Ah. I think I understand.”

“Yeah… so, I don’t anticipate any issues with the Saddle Arabians, but just a heads-up for the griffons. The hawk looking dude was giving me an odd look earlier…”

“A million blessings upon you, Princess of the Day!” Ambassador Ahmad jubilantly declares.

Ed had little exposure to cultures from the Middle East. A few coworkers were a generation or two removed from various countries that make up that part of the world. The ambassador’s accent reminds Cure of something like a bad Arabian stereotype from an old cartoon rather than anything Ed had heard in real life.

The pegasus stands slightly ahead of his whole family. The stallion himself has almost the exact opposite coloration to Cure’s sort-of-uncle with a darker coat and a mane nearly the color of a Caribbean beach’s sand. It is almost entirely covered by his white headwrap with only a few strands poking out from the gaps left for his ears.

Their outfits don’t cover their forelegs, the underside of their necks, or the unicorns’ horns, but instead are wrapped mostly around their barrels and their flanks down to their hind knees. Their wings are mostly covered, though there is a seam through which they can extend them. Even their tails are mostly covered with only the bottoms visibly dangling below their garb.

The outfits must be hell to fly in, Cure muses. Not only would their wings’ range of motion be somewhat hindered but the outfits would act like a parachute at any speed. He can only assume they have different clothing for flying, though he has never looked into it.

The fella must have a preference, and Cure can’t wholly blame him. Just like his mom and his tax pony, each of the mares has some shade of pink for a coat and purple for a mane; the unicorn being the darkest of the three, nearly moving into a shade between true pink and almost purple.

Two of the daughters took after their dams with only the youngest inheriting her sire’s more blonde-ish mane along with a lighter hue of pink for her coat and wings. The unicorn colt got his sire’s coat color, fortunately, along with a slightly lightened, barely off-white mane.

The two trailing guards are still in their armor, though they are carrying something like a palanquin between them. Standing side-by-side, it’s unclear what is under the covering, but it’s fairly large even if the earth ponies seem to have no problem with it. Despite their load they stand at attention just behind the wives and foals.

Unaware of the colt’s musings, the stallion continues, “and a million more on his Highness, Prince Serpentus!” Either the dude is faking it really well or he’s genuinely thrilled; his wings haven’t stopped dancing since he walked through the doors of the throne room.

“To think the maker has granted me such fortune to be alive and present for such an esteemed occasion! His Excellency, Sultan Ilhani the Wise,” he pauses and, along with his entire family and the guards, bobs his head in a shallow bow at the mention of the sultan’s name, “lamented his inability to make the voyage himself, but bid me convey his joy to hear of your unfathomable achievement!”

Celestia, being the High Princess, speaks up first. “And we are overjoyed to share this occasion with you as well, Ambassador Ahmad. Please pass along our well wishes to Sultan Ilhani. It has been a few years since I have last seen him. I hope he is doing well.”

“Indeed, he is! The entirety of Saddle Arabia is preparing to celebrate the birth of his twelfth daughter and forth son! Everypony eagerly awaits the day when such celebrations will occur in Equestria as well, I assure you! I can only imagine how beautiful your foals will someday be, princess!”

Celestia was clearly caught unprepared for the suggestion, as were several of the guards. Cure notes nearly every set of ears perk up and more than a few heads subtly turn in their direction to observe the great alicorn’s reaction. “Ambassador,” she calmly replies, “Prince Serpentus is still very young.”

“Of course, of course! But he is presumably like yourself, is he not? What is a few years to those who live millenia?” he rhetorically asks. “I pray to the maker that I am alive to see the day when you are ready. One graced with such beauty already! I can only fathom your magnificence when heavy with foal!” he bellows giddily.

Cure leans slightly away from the princess and gives her an evaluating look, the move not the least missed by anypony. Nodding his head in agreement he turns back to the ambassador, noting but not reacting to the increased heat from the princess’s warning stare as he leans back more heavily against her side and opens his mouth. “Clearly wisdom belongs not only to Sultan Ilhani, Ambassador Ahmad. I can hardly think of a single other thing that could further enhance her majesty’s radiance,” he solemnly agrees, nuzzling into her left shoulder.

The ambassador, for his part, couldn’t look more proud at the colt’s agreement, and despite Celestia’s discomfort with the subject Cure notes her stare’s temperature subside as she turns back to the stallion.

“Indeed, indeed!” he cheers. “Although from what I saw earlier no help will be needed, his excellency dispatched tinctures and potions from his most trusted viziers to aid on that most glorious day!” he crows as he looks over his withers at his guards. With a motion of his wings the family steps aside to allow them to approach his left.

They gently lower the palanquin to the ground, then the stallion parts the curtain and reaches in the right side to lift out a short, but beautifully carved table and sets it on the floor. With care bordering on reverence he reaches back in and removes three small pink potions in glass containers that look almost like perfume bottles, only with ornate glass stoppers instead of a spray head.

“Made from carefully cultivated herbs bathed in the most sacred waters of life found in all of Saddle Arabia, I present you with three of the most powerful fertility potions ponykind could ever hope to distill for her majesty,” he pauses and produces three more similarly designed bottles with a blue concoction are removed next and sat to the others’ right before continuing, “and three similar potions of stallion potency for his highness when he comes of age!

“Worry not! Their effectiveness will not decrease with time, however, I advise caution!” he bellows, “as my wives can attest, these are not for the faint of heart!” All three mares eagerly nod in agreement behind him. He sets out a few cards and warns, “Take heed of these instructions, Princess Celestia, Prince Serpentus! The potency of these elixirs is not to be underestimated!”

The foals show absolutely no shame at all in their parents’ behavior. Cure can only assume that, opposed to the region from his memories, Equus’ version of the area must not be sexually repressed at all.

“Such generous gifts!” Celestia exclaims. Cure is pretty sure her heart isn’t in it, but in a society with such low birth rates it would be incredibly insulting not to gush over such an amazing present. Either that or she’s legitimately excited despite the awkwardness caused by his age. “I simply must convey my appreciation for his thoughtfulness as soon as possible. I shall dispatch correspondence to his eminence as soon as an opportunity presents itself,” she assures.

“I’m certain he will be quite thrilled to hear from you, your majesty, but I do have some gifts from my humble self to commemorate the occasion as well.”

“Ambassador, that’s really not necessary!”

“I insist!” he shouts, reaching into the palanquin again. This time he comes back with a wooden box about Cure’s own size. “I sought help from those with whom his highness worked over the last few weeks. I realize you are a growing young stallion, your highness, but it would not do to lack such finery even if you shall soon outgrow it!” he declares, lifting the front of the box. The front and top fold up and flip over the back while the sides open outward to reveal a ponyquin wrapped in a shimmering golden outfit much like the stallion’s own.

“Made from the finest silks in all of Saddle Arabia by the esteemed royal tailors, this marvelous abaya will bring you great comfort and protection in any weather!”

“Wow!” Cure faux excitedly exclaims, “It’s beautiful!”

Sensing his lack of genuine excitement, Celestia gently shoos him with her wing. “Go try it on, Serpentus. I’m sure you’ll look absolutely stunning in it!”

“I would,” he says, his voice dripping with disappointment, “but unfortunately, I have absolutely no idea how to put it on.”

“Easily remedied!” the ambassador declares. “Laila, Zahra, Aisha!” he shouts with a clap of his hooves. The three daughters all snap to attention and give the colt what could only be described as sultry looks despite their ages. On one hoof it’s slightly disconcerting that foals right around Wind Shear’s age are giving him looks like that. Oh the other, they are close to the age where even Equestrian ponies start experimenting.

“Come, come! We came prepared!” he gleefully shouts, withdrawing a curtain. “Nadia, if you could please, my dear?” The unicorn mare lights her horn and levitates the curtain into a small circular changing area just to the ambassador’s right.

With a mischievous smile the princess nudges Cure again. As he’s standing he adds back his earlier change to the disguise, figuring that based on the ambassador’s comment about “not needing help” he must have caught sight of everything during the parade. He can already feel the inevitability of his mistake catching up with him as he curses himself for accepting his mother’s dare.

While the fillies undress the ponyquin he climbs down off the throne and strolls down the ramp, entering the small changing area at the ambassador’s encouraging nod. The girls waste absolutely no time joining him. Normally he would be perfectly fine having the attention of three pretty pegasi, but the second set of wedding tackle changes the circumstances from fun and flirtatious to awkward and uncomfortable.

Ponies are far more tactile creatures, but that’s usually expressed with nuzzles, bumps, or hugs. For three fillies that have never met him before, they have no qualms whatsoever about damn near climbing all over him, “absently” resting a hoof on his chest, shoulders, or even his hips, or running their feathers over him as they move around to wrap him up.

Cure knows scents play a larger part in attraction than is typically discussed aloud. It’s an odd dichotomy; pointing out somepony smells like rotten ass is rude, obviously, but not otherwise strange. A pony talking about their mate’s intoxicating musk is going to make others uncomfortable, even if they can’t deny it’s something they secretly enjoy as well.

The “freshly baked cookies” aroma he exudes must really do it for these three. Every time a snout gets close enough, he can feel the deep inhale drinking him in. Bodies automatically release pheromones in different quantities in response to more than just sexual arousal, and although he can keep his own under control, the three fillies have no such capability. They may not have been truly interested in him prior to stepping in the room, but it’s easy for his enhanced nose to detect their attraction now.

He remembers being a little weirded out with how the girls poked and prodded him back at the rodeo; the vibes these three are putting out take it up a couple notches. He reflects that perhaps letting his real age be known would be wise simply to deter such aggressive pursuit by fillies even if it would only help for a year or two. It will be pretty obvious when he starts attending CSGU next year anyhow unless he enrolls and attends under a pseudonym.

Standing like a show horse with his wings held high, he can feel the change in the air the moment the youngest catches sight of the second sheath. Through his heat sense he detects her face warming up as she slowly, inconspicuously lowers her gaze and looks further towards his rear, gasping quietly when her eyes land on the second set of testicles dangling behind his over/under dicks.

Keeping his casual pose, Cure forces himself to not look back or otherwise react. That doesn’t prevent him from noting when the other two fillies catch the one’s reaction and, at the first deniable opportunity, take a gander themselves.

Pausing only a second in their duties, the three share looks and continue to assist the colt in donning the outfit. He isn’t sure he likes the way the headpiece wraps around his ears or sits behind his horn, but overall it’s pretty comfortable even if he’ll likely never wear it due to the problems it would cause with flight.

As they’re finishing up he notes the doors to the throne room opening and closing while they work. To his dismay, he catches the familiar scent of the court photographer and the chemicals he associates with her profession.

Once finished, each filly gives him a nuzzle and a small peck on his cheek before darting out of the changing room while giggling. He can only hope that he won’t get teased too badly about the wingies all three were fighting and failing to keep down.

Cure emerges just a moment later, dressed in his golden abaya and posing proudly as SD snaps picture after picture. At Celestia’s beckoning, he poses with the three fillies and their brother, then with the ambassador’s entire family before rejoining the ancient mare on the throne for even more pictures. He does his best to ignore the whispers of the fillies with their dams, then the dams’ hushed conversations and evaluating looks.

After the colt’s third picture with the princess, one of the ambassador’s pegasus wives steps forwards and produces one more gift from the palanquin. This one she holds out towards the princess and declares, “My wives and I also wished to celebrate the occasion, your majesty! Please accept this small offering from the three of us!”

Accepting it in her magic, Celestia neatly cuts the wrapping paper with her magic and lifts the lid, then the contents of the box. Though Cure recognizes what she has instantly, he strangles the snorted laugh in its crib and goes completely still. It takes a full five seconds of analysis before Celestia gets the outfit oriented correctly and realizes what it is supposed to be, at which point her muzzle goes nearly crimson to match its coloration.

Cure notes at least a few of the guards lining the room subtly look at the outfit, then shift their gaze at the mare in wonder. Just like the colt, they’re clearly imagining what their commander in chief would look like with her forelegs wrapped tightly from fetlock to thigh like a candy cane, the silken collar encircling the base of her neck, the fabric trailing down her shoulders around and between her wings, then splitting three ways to garter her flanks and tie around the base of her tail.

Scandalous.

The ambassador takes the moment of silence to speak up. “Not to be outdone, my beautiful wives have also procured the finest in Saddle Arabian nightwear for her majesty! I felt it may be more appropriate to wait until his highness is older to present you with it, but take this lesson to heart, Prince Serpentus! A stallion that does not listen to his wives will lead a difficult life indeed!”

While Cure nods in agreement, Celestia is frozen stock still, red silk lingerie held in front of her in her magic. The perfect moment is only truly achieved with a click and a flash from the royal photographer.

“Are you going to… ya know?” Cure trails off, waving at the now folded changing room curtain. Her head snaps around to glare at the impetuous colt. He shrugs and lightly tugs at his own clothing. “What? I tried on my outfit. And damn if I don’t look good in it,” he comments with a smirk. At her continued stare he shrinks a little, his smile disappearing and ears pinning back. “Sorry, boss. Just teasing.”

“I think not,” she flatly responds, turning back to the ambassador and his wives. “Thank you all for such a thoughtful gift. While I’m certain it would look… lovely… I think I will try this on in private,” she says, refolding the outfit and putting it away over top of SD’s quiet cursing. “As for the elixirs,” she begins, “I will have them taken to my physician to store with other important medications.”

“Mind if I…?” Cure asks, nodding to the flasks. With her approval he scans the potions. What he finds is a mixture of herbs he has never encountered, likely due to their origin. None are exactly poisonous at all, but they are distilled down to a very high potency just as promised. Taking more than a few drops would probably do something bad, as the stallion warned, but he would have to run a simulation or two to determine the actual effects, even if he can make an educated guess for the male one at least.

“They’re definitely potent. I’m not picking up any signs of breakdown at all, so they should be good for quite a while.”

Celestia nods to a guard who collects them and carries them off. With a final round of farewells and thanks the ambassador, his family, and his guards depart, leaving two somewhat discomforted alicorns sitting on the throne together.

Seeking to dispel the awkwardness, Cure casts a Sound Bubble, hops down from the throne, walks around to the front, and rears up so he’s roughly at chest level with the princess. “We’re both, in a way, adults, Celestia. Let’s do the adult thing and talk. I’ll go first. I am sorry if I upset you by teasing you about the outfit. Given their behavior as well as your lack of reaction to it, I didn’t think you would be offended.”

Celestia huffs out a sigh and shakes her head. “I am not offended, Cure. Perhaps somewhat annoyed, but not really with you. Since it was made public that there is an alicorn colt I have heard countless times how everypony expects foals from me once you are of age.” Scoffing, she flicks a wing in agitation, “Some have even had the temerity to suggest I not wait,” at his shocked look she hastily amends, “Not like that!”

“Well what the hay do you expect me ta think? I mean… come on!”

“They suggested that you be,” she pauses to cringe and, as if the word is bile on her tongue, finishes with, “harvested.”

“Harvested?” he echoes. “They wanna milk my male meat?! Bahahaha!”

Expecting a disgusted reaction, Celestia is shocked when the colt bursts out laughing instead. She sighs and waits for him to finish while giving him a tired look. “This is serious, Cure. A few lower nobles allowed rumors to spread about proposing a law requiring that we produce foals as soon as possible. I’ve been dreading the day you or your family heard of it.”

“Why?”

“Because you were eight!”

“Nine now, and to be honest I’m trying not to think about the date,” he admits with a cringe.

“What’s wr… oh… I’m sorry, Cure,” she warmly responds.

“‘s ok. You’ve got a lot on yer mind. You really should have just said something though. Given the option, I would always much rather know something’s up than not. Besides, none of my family would blame you either way. My dam would quite possibly explode with joy at the suggestion. You know she thinks you can do no wrong even though I keep telling her you’re just as nuts as any of us.”

“I’m not nuts,” she defends with a pout.

“Everypony is crazy, boss. Every single creature on the planet. Some hide it better than others, some only have rare flare-ups, and some are crazy in a good way, but if you ever find me a truly well balanced individual without any bizarre quirks or whatever then I will literally eat my own tail. I’m pretty confident it’s not possible to be one hundred percent sane.”

“That’s… a startlingly cynical yet fair point, I suppose. Regardless, I have served ponykind for nearly two millennia and now some have taken this joyous occasion and perverted it.” With a genuine frown that stabs into his chest the mare softly confesses, “It… it disappoints me, Cure. I had hoped for centuries to have somepony to just always be there, at least as a friend. That possibly arises and the immediate assumption is that now I must serve as a broodmare?”

“Eh, I don’t think that was probably the intent, Celestia. I’m sure many see you as a parental figure already.” He reaches out and takes her hoof with his own as he continues, “The very notion that you would be a fantastic dam is so ingrained in everypony’s mind that they don’t even consider it as a conscious thought. They just know you’ll be great because, to them, you’re already a natural at it. The patience, understanding, wisdom, and kindness you show is automatically associated with the qualities of an ideal parent, so imagining you with your own foals just comes naturally.”

The honest, glowing praise heaped on her earns the colt another small blush and, despite any attempts, a slightly watery smile crosses the princess’s features. Despite that, Cure doesn’t pause in his explanation. “It could be that or maybe they’re taking a purely pragmatic approach. They see one alicorn move the heavens. They finally get a second and, despite his age, look at the possibilities. What capabilities might ten more bring into the world? Besides, no matter what stupid laws anypony tries to enact, who would, or even could tell you what to do with your own body?

“There’s also the fact that we, as a tribe, are all but extinct.” He releases her hoof and absently waves to the door the guard exited from, adding, “I’m guessing if there were only a pair of some kinda ugly weasel left you’d probably be fine tossin ‘em in a room with those potions till they got busy.”

“I know, Cure. I’ve considered these points myself. I guess I had hoped everypony would just be happy with the news and not try to… taint it like they have.”

“Two things, boss, and I’m going to try to be as clinical as possible given the subject,” he warns, earning an understanding nod. “First off, if youdecide that you want a foal sooner, that can be achieved in several ways aside from the classic approach.

“They don’t need to harvest anything. I can easily supply the necessary concoction in whatever quantity they want, in whatever gender ratio is desired via my talent. Kinda gross, I know, but semen isn’t really any more difficult to make than blood or what have you.”

Despite the ick factor Cure associates with discussing infinite quantities of semen, Celestia takes in the information with the grace that one would expect from a mature adult. “I had suspected you could,” she calmly states.

“I figured,” he acknowledges. “I could also transmute a single one of your cells into the needed type. I’m reluctant to do so because I’ll be essentially experimenting with the creation of life. That’s just not a line I want to cross under the circumstances. Under nearly any circumstances, in fact.

“If I provide a sample then at least it is my own matter. It’s still physically and metaphysically me. I can’t venture a guess as to what the result would be otherwise, which is why my siblings were conceived naturally using my parents’ own biological matter the old fashioned way.”

Celestia nods in understanding. “Wise,” she compliments. “I hadn’t considered that, but now that you’ve explained it, the possibility of something going wrong is not a risk I would like to take.”

“Right. Not worth the heartbreak,” he agrees. “The other option if you don’t want to wait is the whole suit thing. It’s weird as all get out to casually discuss, but you certainly noticed the suit didn’t have genitalia last time. That was a conscious decision, obviously.”

“Again, I assumed such after getting to know you more. I was all but certain after we discussed everything.”

“Yeah, I, again, figured you put two and two together. The big concern there would, of course, be my age.”

She scoffs and agrees, “Obviously. Some countries would definitely use it against us and me in particular. And rightfully so, even given your unique circumstances.”

“Yeah and I don’t think most would buy the explanation assuming we even wanted to share it.”

“Agreed. And just so we’re clear I don’t truly consider you an adult, Cure. At least not in many ways, and I don’t think you really do either.” The colt gives a shallow nod in agreement. “That option is completely unacceptable,” she declares.

“I agree. It’s not a good option, all things considered, but it is one. In a few years when it’s not completely unacceptable we could probably get away with it without too much scorn, but at that point we might as well wait until I’m legally an adult. Again, assuming you do even want a foal.”

“I’ve always wanted a foal,” she confirms. “Just out of curiosity, is there anything you can do with your talent that would allow somepony else to conceive one with an alicorn? Are you able to ensure such a foal would survive?”

“I don’t think so,” he honestly answers. “We are genetically incompatible with other ponies. We’re not talking about a cosmetic procedure here. Let’s say you had a partner right now, okay?”

“Okay…”

“I would have to literally use my talent to transmute his semen in his balls to my own… or maybe just reprogram his testicles similar to what I’ll have to do to have foals with others.”

The squicky look on the princess’s face nearly cracks him up, but he maintains his professional demeanor. “Yeah I’m not sure how well that would work on somepony that isn’t me. It could cause a horrible immune system response without me actively suppressing it. Assuming it did work, they still will be my biological foals no matter what. It’s the same reason I told your nephew that any foals I sire will effectively be those of an earth pony.

“I could knock up a griffon and ensure the resulting foal … cub, chick, whatever … would also be a griffon, but it wouldn’t actually be mine, genetically, and maker knows what that would do to its magic. There is no other alicorn male biological material to work with, so any alicorn foals can only be mine even if they’re conceived by somepony else,” he finishes with a shrug.

“Since you and Luna are sisters, she would similarly be stuck with me. If we have a colt at least any other alicorns that come along can have them sire instead, but with so few alicorns total we would be forced to inbreed in a single generation. Every Y chromosome will be mine unless another colt ascends, and a second would barely help at all. It would take a few hundred alicorns to avoid the problem entirely. I’m betting I could fix genetic problems, but still… gross.”

The explanation visibly deflates the ancient mare as she laments, “So any foal I bear will face the same fate I have.”

“Maybe. I can think of one probable and a few far less likely possibilities. There’s a chance that with the right talent an alicorn could breed with another pony. I have no idea how, but I can only operate on the physical side of things.” The statement is a clear reference to Flurry Heart. Though he never gave a name, Celestia recalls that one future ascended, presumably Love, supposedly will have a foal by the other’s brother.

“The metaphysical part is a whole lot more powerful, boss. Hell, maybe somepony could find a way to temporarily faux ascend a pony. I can scan them to get a sample from ‘em, then when the spell wears off, tweak their testes to blast alicorn juice temporarily. I don’t suppose you have such a spell ready to go, do you?”

“I do not. I don’t even know if that would be possible. It sounds highly dangerous to the subject.”

“And yet, if asked, a thousand stallions would probably volunteer to try in an instant. Even if it meant certain death I bet you would get dozens of volunteers.”

Somewhat bolstered, Celestia nods in acceptance. “It’s an idea, at least, even if a far-fetched one. You said you can think of other possibilities,” she says in a questioning tone.

“Yeah but they’re even more of a long shot. The first would be if changelings had any kind of ability to reproduce with ponies.” The revolted shudder that runs through her body tells him what she thinks of that.

He continues on regardless, “They’re a complete wildcard, but if there’s male alicorn-like changelings then maybe that’s a possibility. Or if they’re just universally compatible somehow. The other unlikely options all revolve around finding some kind of alchemical formula or magical MacGuffin or, and maker above I can’t believe I’m going to say it…” he pauses to sigh, “we could ask him.”

“No.” Not even giving him a chance to clarify who Cure is referring to, Celestia immediately shakes her head in the negative. “Under no circumstances would I ask him to do something to make it possible. That could only result in disaster.”

“Yeah… I could see everything going perfectly normal throughout the whole pregnancy then a second draconequus or a giraffe or something popping out. The last thing I can think of is if I can get enough stallion scans that I may be able to do a comparative analysis between my earth pony and alicorn samples.

“I’ve already started doing this to see if I could eventually make a ‘unicorn’ or ‘pegasus’ version of my own… uhh… samples. That’s a whole lot easier because at some point I’ll have enough scans to figure it out, I think. With a sample size of one I would have to rely on whatever force guides my talent to identify a problem, and if it doesn’t work right, who knows what you could end up with.”

Celestia nods in understanding and considers everything he’s suggested. After a moment of quiet deliberation she finally speaks up. “I suppose the only thing to do is to keep working on it. Given enough time I have faith that you will figure it all out, Cure. For now, however, I fear the griffons may be getting impatient.”

“Yeah I guess we need to get back to it.” Cure gives her a genuine smile and, in a confident tone, assures her, “Of course I do have a plan in case you want to get everypony to back off completely for a few years!”

She eyes him suspiciously for a moment until he waves a hoof and gives her an “I’m waiting” look. Finally she rolls her eyes, sighs again, and in a flat tone requests, “Please, Cure. Share with me this plan that will definitely help and won’t be ridiculous and humiliating in some way.”

“That’s the spirit!” he cheers. “So it goes like this. First we find a volunteer, preferably a decently in shape unicorn or an earth pony that’s kinda on the scrawnier side, right?”

“Uh huh.”

“If it’s the former I give them a temporary horn-ectomy,” he continues despite her horrified recoil, “the latter would probably be easier. Either way, I give ‘em a makeover so they look and sound just like one of them zebra pricks from the train, right?”

She doesn’t respond, instead giving him a doubtful look.

Unperturbed, he animatedly continues. “Glad yer with me. So I go out, make a nice, big public appearance, and - ‘Oh? What’s this? Why is that strange zebra in the crowd screaming down with alicorns and whatnot?’” he pretends to wonder. “Next thing ya know, he tosses a bottle of some kind at me. Wham, bam, boom! An explosion of a conveniently-vision-obscuring mist billows out and, surprise, surprise, Prince Serpentus is suddenly Princess Serpenta,” he finishes with a clap and a firm nod.

Celestia stares for a solid five seconds at the colt before delivering her professional analysis. “That’s idiotic.”

“That’s an odd way to pronounce ingenuous. Must be the Canterlot accent.”

“That would cause a war, Cure.”

“Naaah,” he waves the suggestion away. “Your top alchemists could certainly come up with a way to fix it. It may just take six years, give or take. Besides, the dastardly villain’s execution should placate the masses.”

“I’m not executing somezebra that’s already in prison!” she hotly insists.

“I meant we would fake it, boss. Jeez…”

“Well pardon me for misunderstanding! Seriously, though, Serpenta?” she asks before snorting out a laugh.

“It isn’t like I’ll actually be a chick. Just gotta wind up the ‘ol tallywagger and have the boys move north for a while.”

“The ambassador’s daughters will be devastated.”

Cure doesn’t bother holding in the shudder. “I think they must’a been on Team Harvest. They were incredibly unsubtle feelin me up. They scented me so hard I’m not sure if I have a smell at all anymore. Then they took turns damn near staring at my junk. I was about to start charging them for the show. Them fillies were waaaay too thirsty for their ages, boss.”

A look of shame crosses her face as she rushes to apologize. “I had not expected such behavior, Cure. I am so sorry for putting you in that situation!”

“Ehh… it’s not really that big of a deal. They were way more friendly than is appropriate but they didn’t like… molest me or whatever. It certainly won’t be the last time a mare will find themselves unable to resist checkin out this fine hunk’a stallion.”

Despite his flippant attitude, Celestia is still upset over the situation. “Never let anypony treat you in a way you do not wish to be treated, Cure,” she sternly commands. “Whether they’re an ambassador’s foal, a noble, or even if I inadvertently do something you do not approve of. I know you are more than capable of standing up for yourself. You do not have to abide such unwelcome advances. Simply state they are making you uncomfortable or, if necessary, Send me a message.”

“Is what they did unacceptable in their culture?”

“Not exactly, but they are the daughters of an ambassador to Equestria. They have been here long enough to know better. They either do or should know what is and is not appropriate. Truthfully I am now wondering if the whole clothing gift was done specifically in the hopes they could interest you… judging from their body language the opposite seems to have occurred.”

“Oh yeah, definitely. I’ll probably be featuring in a naughty dream or two soon enough. Gotta admit, I hadn’t considered the whole clothes setup thing,” he remarks, looking down at the outfit in a new, slightly disgusted light. “Well as bad as the whole baby making thing will be for you I suspect it’ll be way crazier for me, in a way. Between my domain and the gender disparity I’d bet money somepony will suggest a law studding me out one way or another.”

Celestia gives the colt a look of sympathy and nods in agreement. “I will veto any such law, I promise.”

“Yeah, good luck with that,” he comments. “The way I see it happening is they’ll sneak it into something else like… I dunno, a bill to fund infrastructure projects or something. Ya know, somewhere you wouldn’t literally go line by line. Or one that, other than that one clause, is just too good to say no to.”

“Those are interesting ideas. I could simply veto that portion if necessary, but even if I did not, there is ultimately no way to force you to do anything, just as they could not force me to. An unenforceable law might as well not be one at all.”

“Exactly. I’m glad you didn’t include anything about following the law in them pledges.”

Cure backs away from the throne and falls back to all fours. “One sec, boss,” he mumbles while concentrating. In a flash his outfit disappears, teleported to his closet. “Better. Kinda weird how actually wearing clothes is less comfortable nowadays,” he comments, climbing back on the throne to rejoin her.

He dispels the Sound Bubble and leans over to give her shoulder a friendly nuzzle. “Feelin better?”

“I am,” she confesses, gracing him with a genuine smile. She wraps a wing over him and squeezes him to her side in a hug, then looks to her seneschal to summon the next group.

“Absolutely not.”

“Come now, princess. Our kingdoms are good friends, are we not? You ponies are all about friendship! We simply wish to extend the offer, that’s all!”

“And it is appreciated, Ambassador Darius, but Serpentus is much too young to be traveling so far from home.” Celestia pauses and glances at the colt. Cure, sat on the floor to her left, is staring in awe at the sword the griffon delegation gifted him. Were it not for his ability to heal she would have snatched the present away from him the instant it was passed over. Truthfully, she isn’t sure why he’s so enamored with it; while it is indeed a fine example of griffon smithing, he’ll likely never use it at all.

The gladius is slightly large for him at his current size, though he could wield it with no difficulties due to his strength and weight. However, by the time he’s as large as his sire the sword will be far too short and light for his frame. It may be a fine weapon for a unicorn to use in their telekinetic grip, but for an alicorn something with more heft is generally better.

At least the colt’s excitement made the ambassador and his mage attaché smile. Cure was far more animated when unsheathing the blade than he was when trying on his outfit earlier.

“Yeah,” the colt quietly agrees with a sigh, “it would be pretty cool to hop on across the ocean, but ya know how overprotective parents can be. I wouldn’t mind visiting when I’m older, but my moms, and probably even my sire, would be pretty ticked if I agreed to anything like that right now.”

“Understandable,” the griffon sighs in mock sympathy. “Just know that His Highness, King Guto, would be delighted to host you whenever your dam and sire allow it.”

The ambassador’s tone gets a mild frown from the princess, but Cure turns and gives him a confused look. “I thought filial piety was a big deal to griffons. Are you saying you don’t listen to your parents?” The heads of every guard, the princess, and even his attaché all turn to regard the ambassador.

The princess pounces on the opportunity, musing aloud, “I seem to recall meeting your parents at the Grand Galloping Gala about four years ago.” The ambassador goes still, eyes widening slightly at the memory. “In fact,” she starts, inclining her head in thought, “I distinctly remember your dam gushing about her darling cub spoiling them with first class tickets and a fancy hotel.”

She regards the cringing tom with a warm motherly smile. “I do hope they’ll be able to make the journey to join us again at some point.”

“I… uhh… I’ll be sure to invite them soon, princess,” he stammers.

“Wonderful! I’ll look forward to…” Celestia stops mid sentence and regards the colt. “What are you doing?!”

Cure pauses, the sharpened blade held in his right hoof with the edge against his left cannon. “Testing.”

“Why?”

“I’m curious.”

“About whether it’s sharp?”

“Yeah, why?”

“You don’t cut yourself to see if it’s sharp or not,” she answers as if she’s explaining that water is wet to an imbecile.

“I would advise caution, Prince Serpentus,” the older hen interrupts. “That is no mere sword! It’s a skysteel gladius produced by Wayland Smith himself!”

“Skysteel?” he asks, pausing to hold the blade up and examine it more closely. It is indeed shinier than normal steel, but Cure hasn’t ever seen any evidence that mythological metals exist. “What the hay is skysteel?”

“A far superior metal used in cutting weapons found only in top secret mines in Griffonstone!” the ambassador proudly declares. “Many soldiers and mercenaries can only dream of possessing such a fine weapon!”

“Wooowww!” he gushes, then promptly swings the sword straight into his foreleg. With the subdermal armor removed the blade passes easily through his leg until it meets bone, then stops dead with a muted clank sound. “Huh. That’s actually pretty impressive,” he calmly observes, watching in interest as blood begins welling up from the cut.

Both griffons stare in wide-eyed horror as Celestia lets out a deep sigh. The guards at the base of the ramp don’t react at all, but several lining the room wear varying shocked expressions at the display. “You had better not stain my throne room floor, young colt,” the princess calls in a warning tone.

“I got it, I got it. Gimme a sec,” he calmly replies. He slides the blade away until only the tip touches his skin, leaving a line of blood coating the edge. Wings raised in worry, the pair of griffons watch in silence as the blood flows back off the sword and into the cut which promptly closes as if it never existed. “There, see?” he asks, fully withdrawing the blade, “I didn’t even get a drop on yer fancy tiles, princess.”

“Good. Now put that away before you hurt somepony,” she tiredly commands.

“Fiiine!” he whines, resheathing the sword. He tucks it under his left wing and hops back up to rejoin the princess on her throne, then shoots a beaming smile at the stunned pair. “Thanks for the awesome sword! Please tell King Guto I’m super excited about learning how to use it properly and I’ll be sure to visit once the folks say I’m allowed to!”

Ambassador Darius swallows thickly before nodding. “Of course, your highness. We will be eager to make arrangements whenever you are ready.”

“Cool! I’ll look forward to it!”

With final farewells exchanged the pair are escorted out of the throne room. Once the door shuts, Cure quietly comments, “I think it’s just a different kind of stainless steel. Somethin does feel off about it though.” He unsheathes the sword so they can more closely analyze it. The spot that struck his bone seems completely intact. He had held back his strength, but still expected some kind of mark or imperfection where the blow landed. It failed to significantly damage the bone, though it did penetrate a few of the outer layers.

“Pardon?”

“I suspect it’s stainless steel, just made with more chromium and, I think, has less carbon in it. Just looking at it I would almost bet money on it, but it feels different,” he explains, passing the sword to the ancient alicorn. “Have you ever actually encountered a metal that, by itself, defies physical laws? Mithril, adamantium, saronite, unobtanium, nth metal, magisteel, orichalcum, nullstone, etcetera? Something that’s supposedly indestructible or maybe drains a user of their magic?”

“None with those specific properties,” she answers, “but yes. The forging process of such metals are protected as vigilantly as any state secret. I’m sure you’ve read of the properties of cold iron?”

“The whole anti-magic thing?”

She nods and says, “Precisely. The creation of armor-grade cold iron is far more complex than the name implies. Many smiths have wasted countless hours simply hammering away at unrefined ore, unaware of the process required to bring out its true potential.”

“Huh. What about gold then?”

“Gold naturally conducts magic efficiently. More efficiently than any other metal that’s been discovered. There are some types of wood that do well. I suspect Attaché Giselle,” she tilts her head toward the door, “to be carrying a gold-inlaid yellow birchwood staff. A solid gold one would be far too heavy to fly with for most, obviously.”

“And gaudy as all get out,” Cure agrees.

“Not to mention wildly expensive,” Celestia adds.

“So the griffons have skysteel, we have cold iron. Do Minotaurs have something like that?”

With a nod she answers, “You mentioned a similar name to one in your list. Adamantine is said to be such an exotic metal, though I have never encountered it myself. It is forbidden for any minotaur to take any out of the country except for during times of war. I do not know its properties, only that it is immensely valuable for weapons and armor.”

“Neat. Mithril is a metal from fiction. It was a topic someone did entirely too much research into once,” he vaguely indicates, recalling Ed’s memories of the early 2000s when Lord of the Rings hit theaters. “Supposedly it was based off of higher chromium stainless steel. It’s shinier and harder than normal stainless steel, but it’s also more brittle. I don’t recall how much more, but I don’t think you wanna try to block a warhammer with it unenchanted.

“Here, check this out,” he says, extruding a small strip of wood. “I’m using a tiny bit so I won’t wear out my Transmutation crystal.”

“Okay,” she nods along.

“First, just plain iron,” he says, converting the strip to metal. “Iron, as you know, rusts or, more accurately, oxidizes when it reacts to the oxygen in air. Water, especially salt water, will speed that up a whole bunch.”

“Yes, I know that much about it,” she says in understanding.

“Good. So Ferric and I have been experimenting some with metals, right?”

“Mmhmm.”

“So there’s several metals you want to mix with iron to get different results. Carbon, nickel, and chromium are important, but we’ve also tested some similar metals like how I mentioned platinum and palladium are related. I don’t know the name of it, but there’s one like chromium that’s showing potential in small quantities.”

“Fascinating.”

“Right? So if instead of pure iron,” he says, casting the spell again, “you do a seventy-twenty-ten mix of iron, chromium, and nickel you get something just as hard but won’t rust nearly as quickly. It’s also shinier. At some point we’re going to test adding some titanium and aluminum in to reduce weight, but that’s not all that important for her customers since they’re almost all earth ponies.

“At first I figured that’s what the sword was made of, but you can tell they’re not quite the same. The alloy we came up with is useful for medical purposes, but then again I could probably make a surgical blade plant to grow scalpels made of zirconium and supply entire hospitals easily.” He pauses and furrows his brow in thought. “Huh… I think I know what my next big thing will be…”

“I’ll look forward to seeing what you come up with,” she warmly says, squeezing him against her side with her wing. “Before you can get started, we have one more ambassador to meet with.”

“Sure thing, boss,” he agrees, separating from her side as the pair retake their more formal positions. The princess teleports Cure’s sword up to his room and nods to the guards standing at the door. The unicorn on the right ignites his horn and pulls the door open. Celestia’s seneschal walks through the door and announces, “Presenting the esteemed Ambassador -”

“Out of my way!” is bellowed before the unicorn can finish as the bull Cure saw earlier barrels past him. The six guards at the base of the throne ramp straighten their posture but make no move to stop the minotaur as he approaches.

“That was quite rude, Ambassador Quickhorn,” Celestia lightly scolds as she stares down from her throne. “For what reason have you cast aside decorum and disrespected myself, Prince Serpentus, and the servants and guards of my castle?”

“Abomination!” he shouts, coming to a stop just in front of the guards and pointing at the young alicorn. Cure simply cocks a brow in wonder at the enraged bull as he continues, “That is not a healer! He is perverting nature, warping the maker’s gifts! And you!” he shouts, glaring at the princess.

Cure notes the fellow at least has the good sense not to point a finger at her. “Instead of purging this atrocity you give him a crown?! What madness is this?!” he screams, throwing his arms wide. The move tenses the guardians at the base of the throne, briefly drawing the ambassador’s attention before he dismisses them with a snort.

“Prince Serpentus,” she emphasizes his title while leaning forward with a glare, “was blessed with his talent by Harmony itself. What arrogance you must have to claim greater wisdom than a force beyond us all!”

“What arrogance you have to believe us all fools! He is not a healer!” he growls. “He is a warper of life! A cancer and a pox upon us all! Yet you claim his abilities are a blessing?! How?! Had I known this was the healer you touted I would never have allowed Jala to remain in Canterlot! Who knows what he did to her or her calf?!”

The energy in the room stills at the accusation as the princess’s mane and tail billow more rapidly. She stares white fury at the ambassador, pinning him in place with the weight of a thousand suns. Cure, wisely, doesn’t move a muscle despite the spike of heat on his right side. “That was far too much.

“I suggest, ambassador, that you return to the post and begin training the interim ambassador. Perhaps impart upon them the foolishness of making baseless accusations against innocent foals, members of royalty, or especially, both. I am deeply disappointed in your behavior today,” she chides. ”After working together for so many years, I had expected far better from you.”

Sgt. Bramble steps into view at the entrance to the room, a six guard squad on his tail, with impeccable timing. “Sergeant, please ensure Ambassador Quickhorn arrives at the Minos Embassy promptly, then coordinate with Dukes Dandy and Suncrest as well as Marchioness Yorkshire to arrange accommodations and passage for him and his family back to Minos as soon as is feasible.”

The ambassador’s face contorts in a rictus of fury. “You can’t…” he starts before trailing off, realizing that he has reached the limit of the princess’s patience. “High Chieftain Taurus will hear about this!” he declares in a snarl, then turns and barrels back out through the door, the sergeant and his squad following behind him.

“Pleasant fella,” Cure dryly remarks. “Mind turnin down the heat, boss?” he asks with a nuzzle. Celestia blows out a sigh as the pressure in the room abates. “Whew… alright, everypony go ahead and unclench now,” he commands.

Nopony laughs but more than a few of the guards let out a held breath as their posture relaxes minutely. “Ya know what, that may be what’s wrong with him. He probably just needs a hearty, system-cleansing BM. It’s impossible to be in a good mood when yer all backed up, after all.”

“I had expected the minotaurs to express some concerns in regards to your creations,” she comments, not responding to his attempt at levity, “but nowhere near that level of hostility.”

“Is this going to be a problem? I mean… they’re an ocean away and don’t seem like they’re built for naval warfare.”

Located to the north and northeast of the griffons in Equus’ approximation of Eastern Europe or Southwest Russia, there isn’t an easy or fast way for them to get to Equestria. Their only option is via ship, but the naval powers of the world are technologically in the mid-early age of sail. There are airships, but they’re little more than dirigible-like modified boats, mainly used by griffons as troop carriers. Equestria has only a dozen of the magical transports and, as far as Cure is aware, Minos has none at all.

“They’re not any kind of threat even if the chief agrees with his ambassador, right?” he asks.

“No, the worst they will likely do is complain loudly. They have little ability to do anything, even through trade. What little we buy from them can be purchased from the griffons just the same and I do not foresee them halting purchases from us. The vast majority are nonperishable foodstuffs they cannot find elsewhere without spending significantly more.”

“Good. I gotta admit, I expected to get by at least a day or two before somecreature called for my execution. I feel like ‘under four hours’ has to be some kinda record.”

“I can’t help but agree. I have not had to do that for the better part of a century.”

“Are you really going to expel him?”

“Absolutely,” she immediately replies. “If my ambassador in Knossos were to act similarly I am unsure if he would make it back alive. I would have expelled him for speaking in such a way about any foal. I cannot begin to imagine what he hoped to accomplish with that display of foolishness.”

Cure can only shrug helplessly in response. Unfortunately, creatures just act sometimes without any real plan, typically to their own detriment. Letting a situation get out of hoof at the moment is one thing, but the ambassador had plenty of time to consider his actions and what repercussions would come after.

Then again, if everycreature sat down and applied logic to their situation then a good portion of the world’s issues would be addressed well before they developed into legitimate problems. He knows he isn’t always a paragon of common sense either, but he does pride himself in his ability to look at most situations from a detached, pragmatic standpoint, only letting his emotions cloud his judgment in extreme circumstances.

“The only thing I can think is that he expects his opinion and actions will be popular enough back in Minos that it was worth throwing away his career here,” Cure proposes. “Will the High Chieftain be pissed off at the dude, will he approve, or will his response be somewhere in between?”

Celestia considers the question for a moment, cocking her head to the side in that way Cure can’t help but associate with a cute puppy. He stifles the small smile threatening to creep across his muzzle as she slowly nods. “Your suggestion has merit,” she agrees.

“He has been here for quite some time, so despite whatever official repercussions he may face he will likely end up in a high position somewhere. He seemed genuinely angered, but this may have also been a way to return home and score political points at the same time. It wouldn’t be the first time such a thing has been done.”

Cure rolls his eyes as he comments, “If that’s the case then it shows real character that he chose to retire like that. So…” he pauses, leaning against her side, “what brand of torture must I endure next, boss? I’m finally free, right?”

The princess reaches over him and pulls him between her legs, laying her neck across his back and resting her head on her left foreleg so they’re cheek to cheek. “No more torture, unfortunately. At least not by my hoof. No promises with my nephew, though. I would be amazed if he isn’t eagerly awaiting you just on the other side -”

The door bursts open before she finishes with Blueblood literally prancing through the entryway, two bottles levitating in his magic in front of him. “Thank the maker you are finally finished!” he excitedly shouts as he makes his way to the throne. The stallion doesn’t even spare the guards at the base of the ramp a second’s glance as he strolls right past them.

He sits on his haunches just in front of the throne and takes one of the bottles in his hooves, presenting it like a prized trophy. “I present to you the penultimate chardonnay produced by any creature on the planet: Clearwater Creek’s Year Nine Hundred Prestige Label Chardonnay!” he nearly squeals. More flatly he continues, “And here, as you requested, is an unsealed bottle of filtered water with sugar added.

Cure takes the water bottle in his magic as he says, “Cool… let’s see what we can do here…”

Author's Note

Okay, so some not so great news. I have mentioned a few times over the last month or two that I have been expecting a major life event throwing off my schedule. No - I'm not getting, nor have I recently gotten married. If anyone has ever seen The Money Pit, that's basically my life right now. So yeah, over the last two months I've had just so, so much happen with travel and moving and job stuff, but hopefully I'm through the busiest part of it. I expect my schedule to normalize in the next 2-3 weeks once I have everything wrapped up. Maybe.

Do not expect a chapter next week. I have the next few chapters mapped out, but we're talking bare bones here. A whole lot of meat needs added on. I had debated splitting this chapter in half and giving it to you today and next Monday, but then I thought... why do that? It's certainly long enough to, but I'd just assume keep it whole.

The next chapter will, in all likelihood, wrap up the day and see Cure make his journey back to Baltimare on the next day. I had strongly debated skipping over that, but just like all the other times I considered doing so I came to the conclusion that skipping things sucks and, as a reader, I would have much preferred seeing them happen at least in part.

Last night I logged on and saw that the thumbs-up climbed over 1,000; a milestone I honestly never anticipated. I know I say it every chapter, but I really appreciate all the positive feedback... I even appreciate the negative feedback as long as it's useful and not just "this is dumb because of X" comments.

As far as the subjects discussed in this chapter, I know from most perspectives it's really bizarre that Cure and Celestia have that conversation. Look at it from the perspective of two members of a culture that has embraced breeding arrangements and suddenly the lack of discomfort seems a lot more plausible. Inevitably, if Celestia wants foals, there is only one source of them. Talking about it will not change the circumstances.

Thank you all again for reading and rating. An especially big thank you to everyone who takes the time to comment. Enjoy!

Chapter 82: Celebratus Interuptus

Saturday, June 20st 909 AB (Less than an hour later)

“Free at last!” Cure shouts as his suite room flings open. Back in his normal blue and green earth pony appearance he bounces in the room, zeroing in on the pair of unicorns sitting on a nearby section of his couch. “Thank the maker I’m free at last!” he jubilantly shouts, running and diving at Dawn in a tackle hug.

Her eyes widen comically as the mass of colt barrels at her. Cure had lightened himself and aimed low, so instead of bowling her over he stops just by her right side and glomps on her withers, burying his snout between her and her sire, then flopping against the red stallion’s side.

The pegasi adults lounging above all bark out a laugh at the scowling filly. Noticing his arrival, the other foals start making their way back in from the balcony, leaving the grandparents, Lucky, and his family behind. The younger foals are running and flying around the tree playing tag while the rest of the adults are sitting on or near the couch playing with the newborns and infants.

“Oof!” Haze grunts, exaggerating the hit and rocking slightly to his side. “Not even a prince six hours and he’s already abusing his subordinates,” he melodramatically laments. “Teasing aside, you delivered your speech spectacularly, young stallion. Very impressive all around!” He bumps the colt’s side with his right shoulder and gives him a proud smile. “Well done!”

“Thanks, sarge! I’m just glad nothin too crazy happened. At least not ‘till the ambassadors all showed up, at least.”

“What happened with the ambassadors?” Lemon asks.

“They went from one extreme to the other,” he grouses, rolling over and wrapping his forelegs around Dawn. He calls out a greeting as the other foals pile on the couch to their right before turning back to his mom. “The Saddle Arabians gave me some fancy clothes and a some medications -”

“Medications?” Lemon asks, wrinkling her snout. “Why would they give a healer medicine?”

“Maybe ‘vitamins’ would be more accurate. I don’t know what they were made of, exactly; some kind of herbs they have, but apparently they are designed to help improve bloodflow,” Cure explains. “The ambassador insisted they would be very helpful when I’m older and kept saying the princess would appreciate ‘em too for some reason.”

All the adults freeze. A round of embarrassed giggles and snorted laughs escape despite their efforts. Haze cranes his neck to look at the alicorn lying across his daughter’s back. “You… You didn’t take any, did you?” he worriedly asks. Cure doesn’t respond verbally, instead giving the stallion a slow-blink “Are you crazy?” look. “Sorry! Had to be sure!” he quickly blurts out.

“More bloodflow is good for muscles, isn’t it?” Heavy asks in confusion. His sire closes his eyes and turns away to hide the cringe. “What? That’s why you normally start at a trot and work up to a gallop, right?” he asks the room, “So your blood is flowing better?”

Nearly every adult is struggling to hold back full blown laughter.

“That’s a good point, bro,” Cure compliments. “I bet that stuff would help a lot before a variety of strenuous workouts.” The gray colt gives an appreciative smile back for the recognition of his brilliant insight.

“Are you gonna take some of that before you fly back tomorrow?” Glacial asks. “It sounds like it would help for long distance flights.” Her gaze is immediately drawn to the three pegasi laughing overhead.

“Another good suggestion,” Cure agrees. “According to the instructions it’s more for adults than foals. The ambassador promised it’ll stay good for a long time though.” Cocking his head to the side in thought he adds, “Maybe the pegasi that are flyin with me would benefit from it. I’ll ask if they want to try some before we head out.”

“Oh my,” Crisp Script mumbles. “Exactly how many stallions were escorting you, dear?” she suggestively inquires.

“Six. They’re all elite guards from Fort Meadow.”

“Six,” she breathily repeats, then seems to stare off into the distance in thought while licking her lips.

“It should be quite the spectacle when we head out in the morning. I bet hundreds of ponies will come out to see me off. Lots of ponies to wave goodbye to, more’n likely.”

“I bet them guards‘ll be wavin all right,” Amethyst comments.

“Maybe once we’re flyin over everypony,” he agrees. “She said I don’t have to bow or anything anymore, but the guards’ll still hafta show proper respect to the princess with a formal salute before we take to the skies.”

“He… he is saying these things on purpose, right?!” Rain asks, waving a hoof at the foal. “There’s no way he doesn’t know what he’s implying, is there?”

Cure looks up at the stallion and gives him the “confused dog” head tilt.

“Cure,” his dam calls in a warning tone.

“Yes, dam?” he innocently asks.

“You’re not giving anypony medications,” she sternly instructs. “What happened with the other ambassadors?”

“The griffons invited me to visit and gave me a special gladius of some kind. The princess told ‘em I may be allowed to visit them when I’m older. Yo, Red?”

“Hm?”

“Maybe you and yer sire should take a look at the sword. They said it’s made of somethin called skysteel.”

Onyx Mark shoots to his hooves, nearly knocking over Midnight Gem and Diamond Pick, earning a couple annoyed glares. With wide, excited eyes he echoes, “Skysteel?! I’ve never even seen the stuff!”

“It’s in my closet,” he says, motioning with his head towards his room.

The stallion looks at the door and glances back asking for permission and, with a shallow nod from the colt, takes off with a quick, “Be right back!” The mares both roll their eyes in fond exasperation, but make room for him when he returns, sword held between his teeth. Rain, Thunder, Ferric, Drift, Haze, and Heavy gather around with rapt attention as he draws it from the scabbard to analyze the blade.

“Here,” Cure calls, tossing him a Light crystal as he continues, “So yeah, the griffons were pretty nice. I’m really interested in their magic, but I’m guessing they may not be super eager to share that.”

“Think they cast like zebras?” Title asks.

“Dunno. I’ve never seen a zebra with a staff. Do they use them?”

“They can,” Haze answers, “but the vast majority of Zebra casting is done via ritual or through their alchemy. My understanding is that theirs is based largely on nature and, supposedly, the less corruptive aspects of dark magic.”

“Nature? Like what earth ponies innate magic?”

Haze shrugs noncommittally. “In all likelihood, yes. To be honest, I have almost no knowledge on casting non-runic spells. Obviously I’ve never dabbled in dark magic, either.”

“So earth ponies could, in theory, learn to use the same magic that zebras use?”

“Of course. If you could find a teacher. As you guessed with the griffons, such knowledge is tightly controlled. Dark magic is not to be dabbled in at all, obviously.”

“Huh. Hey sarge, wanna try an experiment?”

“That depends,” he responds, eyeing the colt with no small amount of trepidation.

Cure furrows his brow at the odd look. “I find your lack of faith disturbing, sergeant.”

The stallion spares Deed and Title a glance as the pair share a chuckle. “I seem to recall an experiment involving my son blasting you to the point of sending you flying,” he idly remarks.

“That was conducted safely and in a controlled environment!”

“It was conducted at a firing range with no adult supervision!”

“Solar was an adult and what better place to fire off spells than a firing range?!”

“Cure!” his dam shouts, “Stop sassing Mr. Haze!”

The colt’s pout is met with an unflinching glare from the green mare. “Fiiine! Jeez! I just wanted to see if he could use a staff instead of his horn!”

“Oh,” Haze quietly mumbles. “I’ve never tried. If you recall, I once mentioned my proficiency with direct shaping is… subpar, at best.”

“I’ll try!” Dawn instantly volunteers. “Do you have a staff?”

“Sure, here ya go.” Cure reaches into his mane and pulls out a meter long, quarter hoof in diameter milky white staff and passes it to her.

She takes it in her hoof and looks it over. “What in the hay is that made of? It feels… weird,” she slowly comments.

“I made it from the same thing horns are made of on the outside with a bone core on the inside to strengthen it.”

Dawn immediately drops the staff like it’s on fire, wrinkling her snout as she exclaims, “Gross!”

“That’s awesome!” Drift shouts, darting over to snatch it up. “How do I cast a spell?”

“It won’t work,” Haze interrupts. “I assume you made that just now?”

“Yeah…”

“Then even if you,” he says, turning to face the filly, “had experience shaping magic, the staff would resist it. I suspect quite thoroughly, given his nature. Perhaps in a month once the metaphysical connection has weaned you could use it. At that point I cannot fathom its value as a casting focus.”

“It’s worth a lot?!” Drift excitedly asks, eyeing the staff with naked desire.

“You’re holding, for all intents and purposes, an alicorn bone and horn staff,” he mildly answers. “If it works as well as I suspect it will then its value is immeasurable to hornless casters. Perhaps high powered unicorns, even, given the magic throughput is likely an order of magnitude beyond what their own horn could achieve.

“Consider a material capable of channeling sufficient magic that not even a meter of it is required to move the sun,” he suggests, waving at the staff. “There is no number I could give that may accurately convey its worth to the right parties.”

“He’s right,” Amethyst chimes in. “I can’t give ya a number either, Crosswind, but mah talent is sayin that there staff is worth tens ‘a thousands ‘a bits, easily. Assumin it works like ya say.”

“... Maybe you should take that back, Cure,” Thunder suggests with a cringe.

Recognizing the potential danger, Drift nods in agreement and, with great reluctance, passes the staff back to the colt. Cure can’t help but chuckle at the pitiable look on the filly’s face. “Jeez, Drift… yer giving me something I made in a second. Why do you look like you’re passing over your own wings?”

“It’s unique and awesome and valuable!”

“I can make a dozen in a few minutes.”

“Perhaps you should make her highness aware of that,” Haze suggests. “A dozen of those staves in the hooves of her more powerful casters could be extremely useful under the right circumstances.”

“Good point,” he agrees. “Lemme test it first.” Haze shuffles slightly away from the colt as he holds the staff in his right hoof, pointing the top up towards the ceiling. The feeling is almost exactly the same as when he channels magic into his actual horn; unsurprising given that it is, essentially, the same thing.

Without any nerves or muscles inside the staff there is no way to vibrate it like a real horn would, but Cure has plenty of experience with the Light spell. Thanks to the months of experience channeling magic through his hoof instead of his head, he has no problem crafting the spell containment circle; a thin one sufficient for a cantrip level spell.

He adds in the secondary “Light” effect circle within it and sets the function he has come to understand is the wavelength span to correctly generate white light, then connects the effect start and end point targeting matrices to the end of the staff. The power siphon fills the rest of the tiny circle, connecting his internal mana pool to the light effect circle with a thin, solid line so the brightness isn’t too high.

With the diagram complete he wills forth his magic, “executing” the spell, and continues to supply a trickle of power to the input to maintain the soft glow. A weak, but detectable hum reverberates through the staff as energy courses through it.

“Well done,” Haze compliments, nodding in approval.

“Why do you even need a staff at all?” Heavy asks.

Haze answers before Cure or Dawn can speak up. “To focus the energy. Think of casting a spell like drawing a diagram with magic as the ink,” he begins, pausing as Cure cuts off the Light and uses his Illusion crystal to display the Light spell’s diagram.

Haze waves to the Illusion and continues, “Precisely. One must include the necessary elements, of course. You can see the symbol for the lighting effect, the indicator for the color,” he pauses as Cure shifts the wavelength indicator down for the red, then up higher to cycle through the rainbow while altering the Illusion’s color to match. “Very impressive, Cure. The use of Illusions for a visual aid is a fantastic idea.”

“Thanks!”

“So,” the stallion continues, “just as the symbols and equations to execute the spell must be present, the sharpness and definition with which the ‘drawing’ is crafted will impact the result. Horns,” he motions up to his own, “provide a medium that allows much, much greater precision during the process. Perhaps a very talented and experienced mage could cast some basic spells without one, but they would never be able to do anything complex or powerful.”

“It would be like drawing with a crayon instead of a pencil,” Cure clarifies. “Except if you do a really bad job you may blow up instead of getting points deducted ‘cause Miss Apple can’t read your hoofwriting.”

“A good, if somewhat extreme, example,” the stallion agrees. “The size of a staff and its composition are important as well. For lower tiered spells a staff only a couple hooves long would suffice -”

“Hear that babe, yer an archwizard,” Lemon not-too-quietly giggles as she nips at Deed’s ear. Several curious eyes roam to the blushing stallion as he maintains his focus on the twins between his forelegs.

“Lemon Sweet!” Vines scolds, scowling at the yellow mare.

Haze clears his throat and continues, fighting down the uncomfortable blush that has slightly darkened his already red cheeks. “- but for more powerful effects, larger, more complex designs are required.”

Cure projects the Teleport diagram alongside the Light diagram to demonstrate. Both are enlarged for easier viewing, but the far higher power demand and integrated spell abort sequences and other safeties present in the more complex spell necessitates a spell circle over a dozen times the diameter as the other, housing numerous internal sub-spell sequences within it.

“What. The. Fuck?!” Drift softly mumbles under her breath as she looks the Illusion over. Despite being loud enough that everypony could easily hear her, they all seem too distracted by the display and its implications to scold the filly.

Haze lets out a groan as he looks over the diagram. “And now you know why so very few unicorns attempt to cast with direct magic shaping. Imagine holding that diagram in the forefront of your mind while shaping the magic externally and adjusting the necessary variables for mass and destination. Especially in a combat scenario. Somepony that could do that would be amongst the top half of a percent of mages anywhere,” he finishes, turning to give the colt a look of envy.

He’s not the only one; nearly every pony aside from his own parents are looking between the young alicorn and the Illusions as if they’re seeing, truly seeing, him for the first time. The awed expressions make him uncomfortable, especially from the other foals.

“I’ve always told y’all I cheat,” he demures.

“That’s not cheating,” Coast idly comments. “That’s just… I don’t even know.”

“Straight cow manure,” Drift supplies.

He offers an innocent shrug, aware that their accusations are fair. “That’s what I’ve always said,” he defends. “Which is exactly why I give so much. I’ll never be able to level the playing field, but at least I can try.”

Dawn twists her head and nuzzles her cheek up into his chin, silently supporting the colt.

“It’s admirable you do, son,” Haze offers. “Plenty of ponies with such opportunities have chosen another path, which is unfortunate.”

“It’s also probably a big part of why you’re an alicorn and they’re not,” Thunder agrees.

“That and they didn’t get cream pied by another alicorn,” Sapphire agrees with a sage nod. “Cure didn’t explode ‘till he was covered from snout to tail in the stuff!” Drift barks out a laugh and falls over, giggling in a heap on the floor. Heavy, Glacial, Coast, Dawn, and Rising seem somewhat confused at the behavior. Ferric, interestingly, pins her ears back and nearly glows crimson.

Every adult head slowly swivels to face the aqua filly. Onyx, sword still in hoof, pans back to the colt with a completely flat look. “Oh my,” Midnight quietly mumbles, covering her muzzle with a hoof and glowing even darker than her already purple coat.

“The princess had us throw whipped cream pies at him as a prank,” Title explains, cutting into the otherwise silent room. “It just happened to be right after a ritual, of a sort, that he came up with. It blasted a bunch of magic through him to make a trellis of flowers bloom, causing the crystals he was carrying to... well... explode.”

A round of “Oooooohh!”s sound out as realization dawns on the group.

“Speaking of the princess,” he says, seizing the opportunity to change the subject, “I should ask her if she wants a few of these.

<< Hey boss, got any use for an alicorn horn staff? Sgt. Haze said it may make a good casting focus once the metaphysical connection wears off. >>

<< You made a staff out of the same material as your horn?! >>

The princess’s incredulity doesn’t escape the colt as he responds, << Yeah, we were talkin about the griffon attaché and it came up. I made one to try it out. >>

The sound of a sigh enters his mind. That she took the time to cast the spell and wasted the magic to sigh in his direction causes the colt to laugh again. At the curious stares he explains, “She’s so completely done with me she actually Sent me a sigh!” earning a few quiet giggles from the group.

<< If you do not mind, we could test a few to determine their effectiveness >> she suggests. << Please leave them in your bedroom and I will have a guard come by and collect them. >>

<< Sure thing, boss! >>

“She said to leave a few in my room and somepony’ll come pick ‘em up so they can test ‘em. If she wants more I’ll make ‘em when I come back for the Squads Competition.”

A grimace crosses Thunder’s face as her ears droop. “Sucks I won’t be able to join this year,” she sighs. “Probably should have thought about that before Hearts and Hooves.”

Haze waves away the concern. “There will always be next year. Private Reed may not have your experience, but she’s certainly not lacking in enthusiasm.”

As the guards continue discussing the upcoming competition and the others continue to drool over the gladius, Vines asks about Cure’s final meeting for the morning.

“The minotaur ambassador was a total prick,” he answers. “Called me an abomination, then made an accusation that I did something to that embassy worker’s daughter or her calf. The princess got ticked off enough she expelled him on the spot.”

“She threw him out of the castle?” Title repeats back.

“Out of the country,” Cure clarifies. “From what she said he’ll be on a boat back home by the end of the month.” He offers a helpless shrug and remarks, “Ya can’t please everycreature, I guess. Enough about that idiot, though. I’ve only got tonight to celebrate and relax before I gotta head back to help Baltimare, so let’s hit the festival and absolutely pig out!”

“Funnel Cake! I can smell it! Come to meeee my sweet, delicious, powdery friend!” Despite the unusually rough morning, Cure can’t help but take in the energy in the air. As expected, the pegasi absolutely nailed the weather. A steady breeze keeps the otherwise hot summer sun at bay and an occasional light cloud drifting by provides brief moments of shade.

Though far busier than anything Cure has seen outside of Edward’s memories, the square has enough vendors that lines aren’t too ridiculous, even if they are slightly longer than he would prefer.

Far fewer members of the group elected to join the herd of foals than he expected. Between exhaustion from staying out overnight, the lack of desire to put up with the crowds, or the preference to take advantage of the rare opportunity to see the castle’s grounds, only a hooffull of adults joined the group. Snowstorm Burst, Thunder Dance, and Spring Showers are carrying Frigid, Swirling, and Thunder. Gleaming Haze volunteered to carry Summer Cloud on his withers and help keep an eye on everypony.

“Don’t you think we should have lunch first?” Haze mildly asks as the group trails behind the eager foal.

“Funnel cake is lunch, Mr. Haze. Dawn, I’m disappointed in your failure to educate your sire on proper nutrition for growing foals.”

“I’ve tried my best,” she pouts. “Dam just has him trained too well.”

“I am not trained and you shouldn’t fill up on sweets, Cure,” the unicorn huffs with a roll of his eyes.

Cure pauses mid step to look up in question. “Why?”

“Proper nutrition is…” he starts, trailing off as it occurs to him who he’s talking to. “You know what?” he sighs, “I suppose I’ll have a couple myself.”

“That’s the spirit, sarge,” Thunder cheers. “I’m eating for three, so I wouldn’t mind a few either. Lead the way, colt.”

The other foals watch on in amusement as Cure makes his way through the crowd, occasionally stopping and sticking his snout up in the air to follow the sugary scent. “Like a puppy,” Coast casually comments, snickering at his silly behavior.

“So what I’m hearing is that you don’t want one too,” he mildly suggests over his withers.

“I didn’t say that!” she instantly denies.

“That’s what I thought…” he trails off, finally spotting the stall with the sugary confections.

“We’ll go get a couple tables!” Thunder shouts as she waves most of the foals to follow. Only Haze, with Summer still on his withers, and Dawn stay with the colt in line.

“You don’t have to pay for everything, you know?” Haze points out. “We may just be guards, but we do get paid.”

“You all traveled here to support me, sarge,” Cure softly responds. He leans into the stallion’s side and adds, “Everypony took days off of work and traveled all the way here ‘cause ya care. The least I can friggin do is buy y’all some treats when we go out.”

“Of course we’d be here for you, Cure,” Dawn says, nuzzling into his mane.

“Quite right,” her sire agrees. “Besides, we’ve not had to pay for travel, lodging, food, or anything else the whole time. My only regret regarding the whole affair is that I cannot brag about it to everypony,” he explains with a chuckle.

“Eventually you’ll be able to,” Cure assures him. “Hopefully not anytime soon, though.”

As the three stand in line their attention is drawn to the stage filling the center of the square. The band that had been playing is wrapping up their performance to the cheers of the surrounding ponies. With the last strum of the lead’s guitar the announcer hops onto the stage and calls out to the audience. “Let’s give another round of applause for Silky Smooth and the Jazzers, everypony!”

Keeping an ear pointed in the direction of the stage, Cure makes his way to the front of the line. “Yo!” he calls in greeting, rearing up to put his forehooves on the window. “Can we get thirty funnel cakes and seventeen large lemonades, please?”

“Pink!” Dawn shouts.

“... sixteen and a single pink one, please,” he amends.

The mare looks at Haze who nods in approval. “That’ll be forty-seven bits, sugar.”

Cure tosses a few coins on the sill. “Keep the change!” She scoops the coins up with a grateful smile and disappears from the window, hollering the order back to the staff running the friers before moving on to the next pony in line.

“We’ve got another fun event coming up in a few minutes!” the announcer continues to the crowd’s cheers. “That’s right, everypony! The Prince Serpentus look-alike contest is up next! Colts, fillies, mares, and stallions are all welcome to join in, pony or not! Make your last minute adjustments, folks, and gather on the east side of the stage! Don’t be late, we're starting soon!”

A small smile creeps across the colt’s muzzle as an idea forms. “No,” Dawn immediately insists, jabbing her hoof into his chest.

“No what?” he asks, absently rubbing a hoof where she hit him.

“I know how that crazy brain of yours works,” she sternly accuses. “You’ll see if there’s a prize and go magic up a costume that’s almost perfect.” Haze chuckles fondly as he watches his daughter poke the disguised alicorn again. “You’re not entering the contest, you understand?”

Ears and tail drooping, Cure hangs his head like a scolded puppy. “I wasn’t gonna,” he weakly defends. Dawn arches a single brow in challenge at his declaration. “Probably,” he amends. “I probably wasn’t gonna. Maybe.”

“Why would you?!” He arches a brow at the question so she adds, “What prize could they possibly offer that you would even care about?”

“I dunno.” He perks up and looks at the stage. “Maybe it’s a mystery box!”

“A… mystery box?” she slowly repeats.

“Mmhmm!” he hums, nodding eagerly. “Who can defy the allure of the mystery box?! It could be anything!”

Dawn wrinkles her snout and gives him a hard look. “Is this one of your weird things you do?”

“Wut?”

“It sounded like you were quoting something. You do or say random things then try to play it off like your normal weirdness.”

“... I don’t know what you’re talking about,” he insists, turning his snout defiantly away.

She stares for another moment. Finally, seemingly after minutes she blows out a sigh and rolls her eyes. “Whatever,” she huffs, “either way you’re not going up there.”

He pouts at the orange filly and quietly mumbles, “Yer not my boss.”

Haze winces and takes a half step away from the pair. “Oof. Wrong thing to say, son.”

“I’m not your boss,” she agrees, “but somepony has to stop you from doing dumb stuff when your dam isn’t around!”

“I don’t do dumb stuff!” he weakly argues. He wilts under her stare, then looks to her sire pleadingly.

The stallion is quietly chuckling while watching the young couple. “Don’t look at me,” he insists. “You lost the argument before it started, Cure. The only advice I can offer is to accept the inevitable before you dig the hole even deeper.”

Cure sulks but nods in acceptance. “Fiiine! I won’t join the stupid contest.”

“Good colt,” she responds, patting him between his ears with her telekinesis and earning herself a scowl.

“What if Heavy wants to join?” he asks.

Summer leaps off of Haze’s withers and lands on Cure, standing on his withers and brow as she leans over to ask, “Can big bro win more ice cream?!”

“Maybe, Sunny. I don’t know what the prizes are,” he answers. “Besides,” he not-whispers, “the bossy filly would probably say no.”

Dawn groans and rubs her forehead, then looks to her sire for help. “It’s a fair question,” he muses. “Your friend has the right build. Almost. More than many here will, at least.”

Cure frantically waves a hoof pointing at the stallion. “Yeah! Good point, sarge!”

“You’re not helping, daddy!” she growls.

“I beg to differ, glowbug,” he argues with a chuckle. “I’m helping pass the time by entertaining myself.”

Dawn lets out an inarticulate growl while stomping one hoof after another.

“Aww, c’mon,” Cure calls. He leans agaisnt her side, drapes his neck over her withers and nuzzles into the right side of her neck. Summer lends a hoof too, hugging the other side of the filly’s head with her left wing. “We’re just teasing ya, Sunrise. I’m not going to join the contest. Let’s just enjoy our treats, maybe get some real food, see what the vendors have for sale, find a couple games for RP to inexplicably whoop us at, then go back to the castle where I’ll give ya a nice, relaxing massage.”

“With hands?” she asks, doing her best to not sound overly eager.

“With hands,” he agrees, nuzzling his snout into the base of her ear.

“Deal.”

“Totally whipped,” Haze notes. “Well done, sweetheart. Your dam would be so proud.”

“Order up!” is called from the pickup line where stacks and stacks of food and drinks are piled high.

The three share a look in realization that carrying so much may prove somewhat difficult with only two horns between them. Summer hops back over to Haze’s back who sets a laden tray on Cure. Dawn takes several of the trays of treats, and Haze grabs as many drinks as he can safely carry. It only takes a couple trips for everything to be ferried over to the rest of the herd where everypony starts digging in.

As soon as the colt hops up between Dawn and Heavy, Drift motions her head back towards the stage. “You heard the announcer, right?”

Mouth full of soft, delicious heaven, Cure nods to the affirmative. “Somepony doesn’t want me joining in,” he whines, flicking his eyes to his right while studiously avoiding the orange filly’s glare.

“That would be pretty unfair, dude,” Heavy points out. Cure can’t help but nod in agreement. He never really intended to join, and especially not try to win, but harassing Dawn and getting a chuckle out of her sire was worth the effort. “What’s the prize, anyhow?”

Glacial points her wing at a sign set up on the stage. “The winner from each group gets a set of alicorn plushies and a huge coupon book for a bunch of free stuff from the stores here. Second place gets a Serpentus plushie and a fifty bit bakery gift card and third place just gets a toy.” Cure cranes his neck to see past her and Drift and, as best he can over the sea of heads and bodies, catches that Canterlot Confectionary Creations, along with a number of other companies and agencies, including the local RHA, are sponsoring the event.

“You should do Heavy and have him join the foals’ competition!” Drift eagerly suggests.

“Ehh, I said that too, but… why bother? It’s not like we live here to use the card and I can just make you all plushies if you want. Also, I have literally thousands of bits on me. Let somepony else have it.” Cure normally wouldn’t be so blaise about how much cash he’s carrying, but with the throng of ponies and other creatures about and the general background noise of the crowd he isn’t worried about somepony listening in on a conversation at a table full of foals.

“You’re coming back in a couple months, but… I guess,” she starts to argue before conceding, glancing at the gathering crowd of ponies and a few other creatures lining up by the stage. “It’s probably too late to sign up anyhow.”

“OOOH!” Sapphire shouts, bouncing in excitement to Drift’s right, “You should show up to judge it!”

“That’s… not a bad idea, actually.”

“I would much prefer you not,” Haze interrupts from further down the table. “I do not know what his highness’s policy is in regards to public event attendance, but I believe a guard escort is preferable until he is older.”

“Aww, it’d be fun, sarge!” Thunder teases, flashing the unicorn a forced, fake smile. Haze just rolls his eyes at the white mare in exasperation.

“It would probably excite everypony,” Snowstorm mildly points out, then concedes Haze’s point, “maybe a little too much, though.”

Cure’s face contorts in annoyance, his snout scrunches, and shoulders sag slightly at the valid argument. “Fine!” he huffs, “I wouldn’t want to start a riot anyhow. I’d probably just get yelled at by everymare but my moms.” Dawn definitely. The princess wouldn’t yell, but he would expect a mild rebuke. His dam, most likely, would be the worst with her kind, but disappointed look that he’s only been on the receiving end a few times, thank the maker.

“Maybe when you’re here for school,” Snowstorm suggests.

“I’ve talked it over with my folks. I’ll probably be in disguise as a unicorn and staying on campus, only droppin in my room,” he tilts his head slightly in the direction of the castle, “on occasion. Who knows?” he grouses, “It feels like I don’t even have a week go by before some kind of craziness pops up, so guessing what’ll happen a year from now feels like an exercise in futility.”

The crystal mare bobs her head in agreement. “You do seem to stay pretty busy… especially for a foal.”

“You should go to school as an earth pony!” Sapphire excitedly suggests. “How awesome would it be to have an earth pony mage get into the princess’s school?”

Cure’s eyes go wide at the suggestion. It’s brilliant and awesome and something he’d never even considered.

“You do have a staff now,” her sister agrees. “Wish I’d thought of that when I made yours.”

“That’s brilliant, Red! I can copy your design for a real staff if you’re okay with it.” The filly smiles broadly at the suggestion and bobs her head in agreement.

“I’ve never seen a legitimate earth pony mage,” Haze comments thoughtfully.

“How many civilian unicorns take the time to learn to be a real mage?” Thunder rhetorically asks.

“True… true.” He motions with his head towards Cure and adds, “That your cutie mark has a staff on it could work to your advantage here. An earth pony using magic like a unicorn would draw an enormous amount of attention. Since your cutie mark displays one, it may deflect much of the attention, especially since everypony will wonder how an earth pony foal is casting spells via direct shaping and keeping up with runic casting unicorns.”

“I could add in the necessary stuff to cast runic spells,” Cure points out.

The suggestion brings Haze up short; the idea of the necessary nerve and muscle connections being added in clearly never occurred to the stallion. “That… would likely be chalked up to your talent. It could work,” he slowly nods in agreement.

“That would also solve the problem of me being able to do business while attending school,” Cure adds. “I can just do everything as me, myself, right here in the capital. That should be good cover for me being in the city at all. I can attend the school, do business here during the week, and ‘catch a train,’” he says with air quotes, “home, see customers Saturday morning in Golden Hills, and have Sunday to hang out before coming back.”

“That sounds exhausting,” Snowstorm mumbles. All the other foals nod in agreement as they continue cramming their snack in their faces.

“I have a lot of customers back home I don’t want to just leave hangin,” he offers with a shrug. “That’s money I’m just leaving behind completely. I figure I’ll get as many customers taken care of as I can over the next six months, then announce the business is relocating starting next August aside from one day a week.”

“When will we be able to hang out?” Glacial almost sadly asks.

“Saturday evenings and all day Sunday,” he answers with a shrug. “There’ll be breaks for winter and spring too.”

“They’re starting,” Rising call outs, pointing a hoof at the stage. “Wanna get closer so we can see better?”

A round of agreements sound out and everypony quickly finishes their food and makes their way closer to the stage.

“Alright, everypony!” the announcer begins, “First up is our foal’s competition! Everypony under fifteen is ready! Contestants will come out, show off their costume, and step off stage. Judges will pick the top five, then you, the audience will cheer to pick the winners!”

One by one, a few dozen foals come up on stage in Serpentus disguises of all types. Most are just brown and gold colored unicorn foals with fake wings. The pegasi seem to have an easier time of it; as he’d pointed out to his friends on occasion, putting together a fake horn is a lot easier than fake wings. The upsettingly few earth pony participants had the most work cut out for them, of course, but at least they have the advantage of having the right body shape.

Given the quality of some of the costumes, Cure can only assume that the event must have been promoted well in advance. He regrets not hearing about it beforehoof simply because then his friends could have, if they so desired, participated without his direct help. They still would have had a significant advantage with him being able to either model for them or hoof them over a picture.

Eventually the parade of colts and fillies, as well as a few adults carrying their younger foals on their backs, comes to an end. The judges must have been evaluating the costumes only, as the majority of the finalists were fillies. A colt did still win it; a pegasus with what seemed to be fairly close natural coloration to Cure’s disguise.

With the foal’s competition over there’s a short break in the action while the adults all gather to the side of the stage. Cure idly wonders if he should get close enough to really check out the adult participants. Thoughts of a changeling joining the competition to drink up the adulation cross his mind, but he dismisses it out of hoof. Making a spectacle of one’s self is exactly the opposite kind of behavior he would expect from an undercover bug. Instead, it’s more likely that if they’re free at all, a bug would be better off in the crowd, covertly sipping at the nearly palpable excitement in the air.

While the adult competition is starting Cure subtly begins looking around as best he can from his diminutive perspective, paying extra special attention to the air to see if he can detect the coppery smell of hemolymph from anypony nearby or if he can pick up anypony’s breath that is lacking evidence of having consumed physical sustenance.

After several minutes coming up empty, his attention is yanked back to the stage when an unnatural silence settles across the crowd. The three adults are all conspicuously looking between him and the stallion on stage; a rather muscular and slightly taller pegasus that Cure suspects may have some earth pony blood in him. Further confusing the colt, Drift is nearly rolling on the ground laughing, Sapphire looks on indifferently, Heavy is giving him a thoroughly confused look, and Dawn, Coast, Rising, Glacial, and Ferric are all blushing furiously.

The announcer quickly joins the stallion on stage and, quite gruffly, shoo’s him off, speaking too quietly for her voice amplifier to pick up.

Wondering what he’d missed, he turns to his bro and asks, “What’s going on? I wasn’t watching… what'd he do?”

The colt is at a loss for words, stammering “uhh” and “umm” until Ferric quietly speaks up in answer. “He had a costume that was… inappropriate,” she explains, glowing even more red than before.

“Inappropriate?” he asks, earning a round of nods. He cranes his neck as best he can to see what the problem is, confusion growing when he doesn’t spot anything in particular wrong. The stallion, now off the stage, is arguing with the judges, waving a hoof at himself then towards the Sun Monument in the east. “Inappropriate how? I don’t see anything wrong with it from here.”

“It’s not important,” Haze deflects.

“I think most stallions would disagree,” Thunder mumbles under her breath, barely stifling a snicker.

“Quiet, Thunder!” Snowstorm quietly hisses.

Cure gets a sinking feeling when he hears a few of the crowd mumbling about an “extra set” or “two of them.” Finally, barely getting it out between peals of laughter, Drift banishes all doubt when she blurts out, “He had a fake second wiener!”

“Oh,” he quietly comments. The lack of reaction from the colt gets even more curious stares from the herd. Ears pinning back of their own volition, Cure’s mind races as he seeks a way to change the subject. “Soooooooooooo…” he drawls out, looking around, “anypony else up for some candied apples?” he asks, voice full of hope.

“He had an extra set of those too,” Thunder mildly claims, sending Drift into another round of laughter.

“Well… points for being thorough, I guess. The important thing is that nopony tells you-know-who about this.”

Scoffing, Haze immediately responds, “I damn sure wasn’t going to.” Both mares quickly nod their heads in agreement, as do all of the foals not presently laughing themselves stupid.

“Good. We wouldn’t want him getting in trouble for a silly prank.”

“Uh huh,” the stallion agrees. “Yes, we’re all very concerned about somepony getting in trouble with her. It’s certainly not that we wouldn’t want to be present when she finds out.”

Cure shrugs in response, mildly pointing out, “The train leaves tomorrow evening.”

Sunday, June 21st 909 AB (the next morning)

The alarm off the IV blared again, screeching in his ears. He doesn’t care, doesn’t respond, doesn’t even turn his head to look. She’s gone. They couldn’t save her and nothing he could do would ever bring her back. Another round of sobs escapes as the alarm continues.

Why? Why? Why? Why? Why? Why?

Unable to muster the strength to even cry out her name, Edward writhes in his bed completely oblivious to the sounds of the alarm, the sounds of his convulsing coughs, even the pain in his throat, chest, and abdomen.

Why does everyone I care about have to die?!

Wait… I can heal! Why didn’t I heal her?!

I let her die?! Why did I let her die?! I could have saved her!

“Cure?”

”CYNDI!”

“CURE!”

Wings unfurl and shoot out, spreading fully. He springs to his hooves in a panic. His horn explodes out of his neck, snapping into place, igniting in a blaze of gold mixed with his normal chocolate aura, filling the room with light.

Shouts of alarm and annoyance sound out from the other foals as a pained groan is heard from the floor. “Cure! What the hay?!” Dawn shouts, rolling onto her haunches and pushing herself up from the ground.

“What? he asks in confusion, slowly shaking off the last vestiges of sleep. With his mind finally catching up to his body, he dims his horn and gives everypony a quick glance before carefully padding to the edge of the bed, levitating the downed filly back up and wrapping her in a hug, simultaneously healing the few mild abrasions she suffered from the fall.

The filly leans into the hug for a moment, wrapping her forelegs around his neck and squeezing him tight.

“Nightmare?” she asks in a whisper.

He silently nods against her neck.

“Want to talk about it?”

He shakes his head no, holding in a sob but unable to suppress the quiver in his chest.

“It’s alright. Lay down,” she insists, pointing a hoof between Rising and Glacial. With one last squeeze he lets her go, snuggling between the snoozing fillies and gently resting a wing on each. Dawn climbs on his withers and wraps her forelegs under his wingpits and around his chest, nuzzling into his mane as he drifts back to sleep.

Sunday, June 21st 909 AB

Buried in a pile of foals, Cure slowly came to as the sun’s first rays of the day cast a halo of light around the closed blinds. It’s not enough to wake him normally, but with the constant dreams kept him on the edge of wakefulness for most of the night. He, along with his friends, had taken a long bath after getting cleaned up, so after the morning necessities were taken care of, everypony hit the Cleaning crystal, enjoyed a quiet breakfast, and gathered back in his room to wish him off.

Snuggled atop her eldest, Vines rests her chin between his ears and gently rubs all over his head and face. “Are you sure you don’t want to wait and go with us? The train ride wasn’t bad and your sisters will miss you.”

“I’m sure, dam. Dr. Care should be tellin everypony that I’ll be there by noon, so all the dams and foals from this morning will be waitin for me. It’ll only be one day anyhow; I’ll make it up to ‘em tomorrow night.”

She nods in understanding, even if she can’t help but ask, “And you’ll be okay flying that far then working all day?”

“I probably wouldn’t have before, but I just don’t get tired like that like I did last time. Don’t worry, me ‘n my escort will go straight to the hospital, I’ll eat in the cafeteria, lend a hoof for five or six hours, then spend the night with Wind Shear and Mr. Flare. It won’t be a long work day like I’ve been doing.”

Celestia interjects asking, “Are you sure you would not prefer to stay at the Lady Baltimare? The Royal Suite there is quite nice and I could have guards from Fort Meadow set up a rotation for the night.”

“Nah, it’s fine. I’ll sleep better with somepony else than I would alone in a hotel room anyhow.”

“We could come too!” Glacial excitedly suggests. “We could all go together and split up past Hollow Shades!” Drift perks up, clearly excited at the prospect of flying so far all at once.

“I mean… maybe?” he tentatively asks, looking between the filly’s parents and the princess.

The ancient mare shrugs and bobs her head in acceptance of the idea. “That would be up to your parents,” she defers. “If you intend to do so, I recommend you leave immediately to get a head start and so that you are not all seen flying together. Your dams are early enough in their pregnancies that I do not foresee any issue.”

“Will you be able to keep all of us in the air?” Rain asks. “That’s a lot of ponies to heal.”

“I should be able to. I was able to keep my sire and six of the guards running at peak every Friday, and that was back before my magic tripled.”

“If you want to, go ahead,” Snowstorm tells her husband. “That’s too far for me. I can take Swirling with me on the train if you want to go,” she says as she turns to Thunder.

“That’s six more ponies that know who you are,” the white pegasus points out. “Are you sure you’re okay with that?”

“I think almost every pony that works at the castle knows, Mrs. Dance. I’m already on borrowed time with the whole ‘secret identity’ thing, so six guards from Fort Meadow probably won’t make a lick of difference. Besides, I can change your appearance slightly like I was going to for when we go out,” he adds, motioning between him and the two pegasus fillies.

“True,” she concedes. “If you’re sure another four won’t be a strain for you,” she pauses as he shakes his head no, “then sure! We’ll find a nice cloud a little ways east of Canterlot and wait for you there.”

Plan set, Cure quickly gives Rain, Thunder, Drift, and Glacial a variant of his brown and gold Serpentus disguise and a set of flight suits before the four take off from the balcony. With a last round of “see you tomorrow” nuzzles and hugs from everypony else, Cure dons his Serpentus colors and regalia, stows his sword in a bit pouch, grows out his own suit, and joins the princess as they make their way to the main castle entrance.

“Auntie! Serpentus!” Blueblood calls out in greeting, prancing over to the pair with his family on his tail. He gives Celestia his customary hug, then when they separate, turns and scoops up Cure in a tight embrace. “Safe journeys, young stallion! I do so look forward to when next you visit. Early September, if I’m not mistaken?”

“Yep! We’re throwin a health fair for the princess’s officers, so I’ll be back in a couple months.”

“Marvelous!” he boisterously cheers, “And when you arrive do let me know. At the very least I insist you allow me to treat you to dinner. La Chaumiere de Velours is a five sun restaurant not far from my primary estate. The dining experience is simply phenomenal!” he exclaims, setting the colt down as he gushes.

“That sounds awesome! I’ll see you all around… September eighth?” he asks, looking up to the princess.

“That is the first day of the competition. I would recommend you travel with the competitors coming from Baltimare a couple days beforehoof. I will have my royal car prepared and waiting for you.”

“Bah! Trains!” he harrumphs.

Celestia rolls her eyes at the impatient colt. “I know you would rather fly, but it simplifies the logistics if you travel with everypony else.”

“Fiiine!” he nearly whines. Turning back, he offers Junior a hoofbump. Being a bro and all, the older colt doesn’t leave him hanging. Both fillies and their dam step forward and give him a departing nuzzle, then fall in behind the group as the three royals take point.

The castle doors swing open, flooding the interior with sunlight. Cure blinks in confusion as a loud “UH-TENNN-SHUN” is bellowed from the courtyard. Cpt. Shield and Lt. Spear stand at attention along with Sgt. Bramble and, from the looks of things, nearly every guard in the garrison not currently patrolling the castle. Lt. Fury and his squad stand off to his right, waiting to depart once he’s ready. At once, the entire company drops into a formal bow.

Caught unprepared, Cure looks up at the princess and cocks a brow in question. She lightly shrugs and assures him, “This was not my idea. They volunteered to come in to see you off.” She waves a hoof to the crowd and explains, “You helped thousands of dams and their foals. Those mares are their daughters, wives, sisters, aunts, and cousins. Even a few of their dams, mothers, and granddaughters. It is only natural that they would want to show their gratitude.”

Senior leans down to whisper, “No need for a speech. Just say thanks.”

Cure nods, then steps forward and clears his throat. He motions for them to rise with his wing and, projecting his voice, calls out, “At ease.” Once everypony is standing and relaxed he continues, “Thank you all for coming out to see me off this morning. That you all volunteered to come in to do so, even if you have today off, tells me two things.

“The first is that the princess, and really, all of Equestria, is fortunate beyond measure to have such kind, dedicated guardians keeping us all safe. The other is that I need to talk to my secretary. The bills for my services should have been in the mail last week. As none of you are wielding pitchforks, clearly that didn’t happen.”

Cure lets out a sigh and shakes his head in disappointment, playing up the act as a round of subdued chuckles escapes the troops. He looks over his withers at the princess and adds, “Also, I should probably hire a secretary at some point.”

“I’m sure you’ll need one eventually.”

He nods in agreement, turns to face her, straightens his posture, and inclines his head to meet her eyes. “Princess Celestia, I’ll look forward to seeing you again soon.”

Smiling faintly, she gives him a shallow nod. “Prince Serpentus, I, too, will look forward to seeing you come September. Farewell, young stallion. Go help our little ponies in Baltimare.” << And don’t forget to let me know how your day went tonight >> she silently adds.

He returns her nod and, without another word, turns and trots between Lt. Fury’s squad and the castle garrison, motioning with his wing for his escort to fall in line. Wings spread, he leaps into the air, pumping just enough to clear the castle walls and turns east.

An eruption of cheers blasts up at the group from the ground. All along the perimeter of the walls ponies and other creatures fill the streets cheering and calling out to the colt. Slowing enough to not immediately overshoot them, he waves down to the crowd as he passes overhead.

A few overeager winged citizens take to the air to follow, quickly finding a patrolling bat or pegasus barring their path and motioning them back down.

The royal entourage does a slow arc around the perimeter to the north, veering eastward over the town center, past the Sun Memorial, then gains altitude and speed, firing off like a squad of jets to the east.

Sunday, June 21st 909 AB (Approximately 12 hours later)

The sound of a couple quick knocks has every ear perked up and pointed to the front of the house. Wind watches in amusement as Drift and her little fillyfriend both bolt for the door, nearly crashing into each other, eager to greet the colt. A few soft chuckles from her parents and Mr. Rain tells her they saw the same thing. The three of them set their books down and her dam gives a flap to hop off the cloud and make her way to the kitchen.

“... can’t friggin wait for a shower,” the disguised alicorn comments as he makes his way in the room with a worried looking filly boxing him in on either side.

Wind can’t help but feel a little concerned for him too; the way he’s almost drunkenly wobbling on his hooves shows just how exhausted he is. “Good evening, your highness,” she formally calls, her voice absolutely dripping in mockery.

The colt scoffs and rolls his eyes, lazily flicking his right wing while being careful not to hit Glacial. “Your highness my fluffy brown butt. How you been, Bouncy? Any luck with the job hunt?”

“I start next Monday at City Hall, actually,” she proudly replies. A runner for the reception desk isn’t the most glorious summer job, but it still pays, at least.

“A friggin waste for chump change,” he declares, yawning at the same time and nuzzling against Glacial. “Should look into modeling or something with those long legs and that beautiful mane,” he tiredly blurts out, leaning heavily on the platinum filly. Unaware of the heat climbing up her muzzle and the wide-eyed stares from the rest of the room, he continues, “Hell, I could give ya a stack of flyers ta hoof out and kick back ten percent of anypony you send my way. Make some real money.”

“Is he… alright?” Mr. Rain hesitantly asks. “He didn’t seem that tired when we separated… though that was quite a while ago.”

“’m fine,” Cure mumbles at the same time Glacial shakes her head no. “He didn’t sleep the night before his coronation and Dawn said he had nightmares all last night. I think he’s been awake since Friday morning, basically.”

“Fine, I am a little tired,” he begrudgingly admits. “I just need some food and a nice hot shower.” Everpony pauses when he scents the air, craning his neck over Drift’s withers towards the kitchen. “Speakin of which, something smells good,” he comments, loudly licking his chops.

Dam’s voice carries through the doorway, calling the colt to come and eat. Both girls blush when he perks up and wraps a huge, powerful wing around each, merrily pulling them along to the dining room.

Mr. Rain warily glances to the doorway and, in a hushed voice, asks, “Is he… safe to be around?”

“Probably?” her sire postulates with a clear lack of certainty. “You all will be fine, at least,” he comments, scrunching his snout. “I think I’ll keep my distance, just to play it safe.”

They’re only gone for a few minutes, it seems, before they return with dam trailing behind them. Back in his cerulean and green with his horn visible and his flight suit removed, the colt certainly looks like he feels better. “... on linens, the kitchen, the bathroom. You name it. Cleaning is absolute cow manure, Mrs. Dance. I’ll tell ya what,” he starts, levitating a couple crystals out of his mane and setting them on a nearby endtable, “you and Mr. Rain can each just have one of those.

“They’re just lows, but now that everypony’s learnin how to recharge ‘em on their own they’re worth their weight in gold.”

At the pause in conversation, Wind jumps on the opportunity he casually threw out there. “Were you serious?” The question gets a confused look from the colt until she clarifies, “About the referral thing?”

“Oh! Umm… I guess? With no school I’ve opened my schedule up a lot, so… sure?”

“How much do you make in a week?”

“Well, keep in mind, it’ll only be ten percent of whatever the ponies you send to me pay for, but… a lot. I could see you making a few hundred bits a week, easily. And really, if you go to the right places to advertise, like the Baltimare business district near City Hall, I wouldn’t expect you to need to spend more than a few hours a week working. We’ll have to see if you need a license to pass out ads like that, though. Are you two okay with that?” he asks, glancing between her parents.

“She’s old enough now,” her sire says with a nod.

Wind can feel her excitement growing as she turns to her dam. “As long as she has her Sending crystal on her in case of an emergency.”

“Awesome!” the colt cheers. “Now, not that you’re not already beautiful or anything,” he pauses, glancing at dam, “I mean, how could you not be with a dam like that? But,” he continues over dam’s giggles and her sire’s pout, “how bout after I get some shuteye we talk about what you’d like done to take you from model material all the way up to supermodel levels?”

Author's Note

Pushing this one out a smidge early since I have a lot going on tomorrow. 83 is coming along well and will be ready for next Monday, barring anything really ridiculous happening, at least.

Thanks for reading, folks! Enjoy!

Chapter 83: Aftershocks

Sunday, June 28th, 909 AB (7 days later)
Just after sunrise

Cure slowly comes to wakefulness, finding himself rolled onto his back with an adorable little sister resting her head on his chest and another right beside her on his belly. Just like himself and all of his friends, the two girls are slowly growing up. He figures by next summer or the one after they’ll be ready to have their own room; a necessity not so much due to their size, but mostly the changes that’ll likely be happening to his own body once he turns ten.

Pony society would be fine with him sleeping snuggled up to the girls for years to come, but the idea of waking up after experiencing a wet dream or even with just regular morning wood while laying between them makes him almost want to retch. He’s confident he can prevent either from being a problem, but the idea of explaining why big brother is sticky and smells weird to either of the sweet fillies is enough to make him exceptionally leery of even trying.

Banishing the disgusting thoughts from his mind, he tilts his head to the side and extends his horn. Snuggling Vines floats from the edge of the bed before getting a Warming cantrip applied to it, then the colt begins the process of carefully lifting the girls off of him and using his TK to slide forward enough to slip the plushie in his place. He can’t help but crack a smile when, unbidden, the image of Indiana Jones swapping a bag of sand for a statue comes to the forefront of his mind.

After a moment, Cure successfully maneuvers himself free and gently lowers the fillies back into place, watching in satisfaction when they nuzzle into the toy’s warm belly. He loops a foreleg over each girl’s back and carefully floats himself off their bed, activates the mid-low Sound Bubble crystal embedded into the room’s runic channel, and quietly sneaks out the door.

A scenting of the air and the lack of sound tells him he’s the first one up. It tells him a few other things concerning the health of his parents’ marriage, but he’s long since gotten used to them forgetting to use a Cleaning crystal before passing out after a night of energetic sex.

Wings spread as far as the hallway allows, he hovers down the hall, makes a quick pit stop in the potty, then Teleports himself a couple meters off the ground right into the kitchen.

Lighting his horn, he cracks open the window over the sink and has a thick stalk of his plant reach in. “Let’s see… peppers, eggs, cheese, mushrooms…” he mumbles to himself, making a mental list of ingredients for breakfast. “I wonder if mom would like sausage… or bacon!” he excitedly ponders aloud.

Powering on the oven’s enchantments, Cure pauses to do the math in his head, then sets it to two hundred degrees and pulls a couple large, copper baking pans from the cupboard. He lines the sheets with conjured parchment paper, arranges the plant-bacon, and slides both into the oven.

A couple pans find their way onto the stovetop to warm. With a quick application of his talent, a sack of mixed ingredients hovers at the end of his plant’s stalk. Butter is dropped into the bottom of the pan and is allowed to melt, then the plant reaches over and extrudes a hefty pre-oxygenated and mixed serving of omelet batter right in the middle. Cure tosses a dash of salt and pepper in each one, watching intently as the mixture bubbles and heats.

He glances to the side, floating the teapot and his Mr. Coffee carafe to the sink before putting the former on one of the smaller burners and dumping the latter in his machine. The stalk reaches over and deposits a clump of prepared dark grounds into the filter, then he flips the lid shut, turns the machine on, and focuses back on the stovetop.

His horn glows softly, encasing the pan and the cooking eggs in his aura before the latter lifts up, flips over, and, without spilling or smearing, lowers back onto the hot surface. The other omelet follows suit, cooking both sides as he pulls enough settings out of the cupboard for everypony.

As each omelet is finished, he floats them out of the pan, fills the inside with cheese, and folds them neatly while setting them on a pre-warmed plate. A half dozen are finished and the last two are in the pan before the clomping sound of hooves on wood can be heard from upstairs. One last egg is dropped in the pan as he floats over a spatula. Savvy’s still too young for an omelet, but she’ll be fine with a bowl of scrambled eggs. Once they start cooking he cracks the oven open, peeking inside to see that the bacon just needs another moment or two.

A parade of mares make their way down the stairs as Amethyst calls out in question, “‘Mornin, colt. Whatchya makin? Smells de-lish-ous, whatever it is!”

“Somethin special for the prettiest bunch’a mares on the planet,” he calls back over his withers. “Go ahead and have a seat, your omelets are waitin for ya and the bacon’s almost ready.” He turns back to the food, making sure nothing burns while they get situated and set his sister up in a high chair. The front door opens and closes as Amethyst walks back in with the paper on her withers.

He feels his dam approach from behind. The sweet mare carefully wraps a foreleg around his tummy and nuzzles into his cheek. “I love you sweetie,” she coos into his ear.

“Love you too, dam. Go on,” he waves a hoof to the table, “give the twins their breakfast before they get fussy. I’ve got this.”

“Bacon?” Lemon asks as Vines plants a kiss between his ears and moves to take her spot. “Like… griffon bacon?”

“It’s not from a pig like theirs is. Biologically it’s the same stuff, just made outta transmuted plant material. I made a bunch,” he explains, dropping four pieces of bread in the toaster, “so at least give it a try before you turn your nose up at the ‘gross stinky meat,’ okay?” He cocks an ear at the ceiling and asks, “Dad’s not up yet?”

“Oh he’s very much ‘up,’” Title giggles as she’s getting everypony’s drinks, “even if he’s not awake yet.”

“Gross,” he mildly comments with his snout scrunched.

“Title Search!” Vines admonishes as she sets the twins between her hind legs under the table. The pair latch on immediately, grateful for their meal.

“Well, whatever. Here’s the omelets that are ready, don’t bother waitin to dig in,” he calls back as he floats one in front of each mom and a bowl of scrambled eggs in front of Savvy, who’s giddily bouncing in place while flapping her tiny new wings in her highchair. The instruction proves to be completely unnecessary as the famished mares don’t hesitate to start shoveling away while he finishes the last two and puts another round of toast on.

The ladies all savor their food, watching as the floating colt encases the front of the oven in a barrier before opening it. A cloud of greasy smoke puffs out, then the colt pulls out a crystal and, in a flash, the smoke disappears. Two trays levitate out, then he casts Cleaning on the inside of the oven, then the bacon itself, whisking away loads of excess grease and leaving behind beautiful strips of salty goodness.

The meat is piled up on a couple plates and set in the middle of the table while he turns off the stovetops and sets the last couple omelets on the counter, then the toast and some butter on a couple plates in the middle of the table. Amethyst excuses herself to run up and wake the girls, returning a moment later, quietly mumbling, “They’re goin potty. They’ll be down in a minute.”

Aside from the colt, who has already wolfed down four strips, Title is the first to reach for the stack of fake pork. She gives it a sniff, shrugs, and bites it in half. Her eyes widen comically when the salty flavor explodes across her palate.

The girls come down and hop up by their brother just in time to witness her reaction. “Oh my Celestia!” she exclaims, grabbing a hooffull and scooping it onto her plate. “Where has this been all my life?!” Not hesitating for a moment, she tears off a tiny piece and gives it to her daughter, smiling when the sweet thing voices her approval with a loud “MMM!”

With the pink ladies’ stamps of approval, the fillies are quick to sit up and grab a couple pieces for themselves while Cure floats their omelets over and warms them up. The colt beams, dancing in his seat when their faces light up in delight.

Lemon sneaks one off of Title’s plate, earning herself a scowl, before grabbing a few more from the pile. “Not bad. Not bad at all,” she admits with a nod.

“It’s like sugar, honey, and salt all wrapped up in a crispy package,” Amethyst agrees. “Not so sure I’m diggin the chewy parts, colt. The extra cooked pieces are darn tasty though. Here, V, try one,” she says, leaning forward to grab a piece for the nursing mare.

“That’s the glaze you’re tasting, and the chewy parts are simulated fat. That’s where all the flavor comes from.” He turns to the pink mare and, waving at the bacon, asks, “See what you’ve been missin out on, ma? Now I’ll admit, bacon is possibly the pinnacle of carnivorous delights available in this world, but chicken and other forms of pork are no joke too.” Cure leans forward and looks around conspiratorially, “And that’s not even bringing up the most delectably taboo of offerings.”

“No!” Vines instantly cuts in, then covers her still bacon-filled muzzle. “You are not going to feed anypony pony, young colt!” she scolds, thrusting her other hoof in his direction.

He bursts out laughing, shaking his head no. “Duh! I told the princess the same thing… getting anypony hooked on anything me flavored sounds like a horrible idea. I’m just messin with ya anyhow, dam. I won’t make anything that’ll taste like an intelligent species. Except chicken.” Everypony gives the colt a curious look. “That’s unavoidable. Almost everything tastes like chicken,” he explains with a shrug. “In fact, I think there’s an intelligent species of parrots out there. Dependin on their diet they may taste just like it.”

“I’ve heard of them, but I’ve never seen one,” Title says, giving the other mares a questioning look.

Lemon and Vines both shrug but Amethyst speaks up. “Avians. I’ve never seen one either, but I’ve heard of ‘em too. Weird as all get out if ya ask me. Almost like a harpy, but with arms instead. What kinda bird creature ain’t even got wings?”

“Dunno, ma. The whole planet doesn’t make sense half the time. Just look at cows and minotaurs. How the hay do we have two intelligent bovine species, but one’s bipedal and the other is quadrupedal? There’s not like… a species of bipedal ponies out there I’ve never heard of, is there?”

“Not that I know of?” Amethyst answers with a questioning lilt, looking to the other moms for help.

“I’ve never heard of one,” Title adds, “even in myths or whatever. So no, I don’t think there’s bipedal versions of other creatures out there. As far as how that happened,” she shrugs, “who knows?”

Everypony finishes their meal in silence, leaving the sleeping stallion a few strips of bacon. Cure finally speaks up. “So… what’s on the agenda for the day?”

“Seriously, Cure?” Title asks in a huff.

“What? Y’all got any plans?”

“I have a job interview today,” Lemon proudly declares.

“A job interview?” he echoes.

Amethyst rolls her eyes and explains, “She finally got ‘round ta hirin somepony. She got a few applications while you were gone and told ‘em to come back in once the birthin season was over with.”

“Ah. Just one?” he asks, looking at the yellow mare.

“Nah,” she waves a hoof airily, “got two today and one tomorrow. I won’t be at the store long. I’m not actually opening up.”

“Nice… just a cashier?”

“Yep, for now. I’m hopin I can find somepony reliable enough to, eventually, run the store without me. That way I can start openin on Sunday, too… maybe even open another location in Baltimare like we discussed. If it goes well I should be able to work a few hours Saturday mornings and make enough to last until I go back in on Monday.”

“You should probably consider hiring two in case one doesn’t work out. You could go in for a few hours every morning, make everything you need for the day, and never have to set hoof in the storefront area at all.”

“That’s not a bad idea, but I don’t know if I can afford…” she drifts off at his flat stare and Title’s snorted laugh. “Fine, fine. I’ll think about it. What are you gettin into today?”

“Nothin too exciting. I’m meetin Dawn ‘n Solar at the range later this mornin before his shift starts. I wanted to try out the whole staff casting thing for a while and maybe test a spell idea or two. I was also thinkin about goin for a flight around Baltimare in Serpentus mode if you’re okay with it,” he adds, turning to his dam with pleading eyes. “You know… just kinda be out and be seen for an hour or two. Maybe I’ll swing by Canterton Park. I’ve been wantin to get some aquatic animal scans for like… ever.

Vines is obviously not thrilled with the suggestion. Canterton Park is just slightly north of Baltimare. Its defining feature is a small cove area mostly surrounded by rocks. It’s a popular swimming hole for ponies and griffs that want to get in the ocean, but is mostly visited for the long walking trails along the waterfront.

“I think it’s a great idea!” Lemon encouragingly replies. “Just keep your wits about ya, colt. I can’t imagine anypony, or anycreature, startin trouble with royalty, but…” she trails off waving a hoof.

“Right. Minotaurs on top of zebras and whatever mercenary has a death wish,” he agrees.

After a moment’s consideration, Vines finally puts forth her one stipulation. “Get an escort.”

The colt smirks and, in a voice that’s entirely too sultry from a young foal, replies, “Don’t you think I’m a little young for that, dam?” Her eyes go wide and the three moms all snort out laughs. “I know pony society is pretty liberal, but I never expected my own dam to insist I seek that kind of service. I’m not even sure where to start… do they run ads in the paper?”

The mare tilts her head back and sighs, letting all of her frustration float up to the ceiling. “Every meal…” she groans, refocusing back on her son. “You know exactly what I mean, Cure!”

“I will,” he assures her. “I’ll be out of range of the Sending crystals from the coast, so I’m fine havin somepony nearby keepin an eye out.”

“Speakin of the papers, colt,” Amethyst starts, folding the Baltimare Sun over and passing it over.

Rumors & Questions Abound Regarding Alicorn Stallion Physiology

Although several ponies have independently and, under promise of anonymity, reported that while they did not intend to, they noticed during his coronation procession that His Highness, Prince Serpentus, seemed to have anatomy uncharacteristic of colts and stallions of other pony tribes, or, in fact, any other known intelligent beings on the planet. According to consulted zoologists, the reported anomaly is characteristic of reptiles and snakes, instead.

Given the private nature of the reported difference, no significant attempt has been made to investigate the claims thus far, and several reputable newspapers have outright declined looking into the matter.

We, the premier news resource for the great city of Baltimare, while cognisant of the sensitive topic, have made inquiries with a number of parties including the parents of foals that attend the Junior Guard Martial Arts training program. Unsurprisingly, only a few have been willing to comment and they were quick to point out that Prince Serpentus wears a golden flight suit and the standard protective gear while attending class, thus making it impossible to confirm or disprove whether the rumors are true.

Their statements match all other ponies we have reached out to; His Highness is rarely seen publicly without an article of clothing making it nearly impossible to discern the truth. While the topic is exceedingly sensitive given his youth, this reporter can’t help but wonder why the young prince routinely wears clothing uncommon to colts of his estimated age.

Reports and pictures confirm that he was unclothed while working in the hospitals, but, as one would expect, no photographs were taken at an angle that would reveal the truth of the reported difference. Pictures during the coronation are also unclear due to the position in which Princess Celestia held him after his oaths.

New dams solicited for comment were overwhelmingly enraged upon being approached, citing how much they appreciate His Highness’s efforts in ensuring their healthy and, reportedly, pain-free experience. Reporters in the capital and Cloudsdale were forced to flee upon questioning more than one new dam, resulting in a policy change at several newspapers.

Though they refused to comment on the exact question, several anonymous medical professionals pointed out that the prince demonstrated the ability to regrow a wounded guardsmare’s eye during the coronation, and is credited with the creation of the trees reportedly capable of regrowing fully intact organs.

The question then is, if he can regrow a body part, is he also able to simply grow additional ones as well?

Disclaimer: Per the Baltimare Sun’s Editor the following important notice has been added:
Readers are reminded that specifically attempting to take a photograph of that part of a foal is a Class Two Felony and, as a result, the Baltimare Sun will NOT accept photographic evidence, and will forward any submitted pictures with all relevant information to the Guard for investigation.

“Heh… awesome,” he quietly chuckles.

At their curious looks, Cure passes the newspaper to his moms on his right. Lemon and Title barely finish reading the headline before they’re both cracking up, covering their mouths with fetlocks to keep from blasting eggs across the table. Lemon passes the paper across the table to Vines who reads the article with furrowed brows. Slowly, she looks up at her son and sternly demands an answer. “What did you do?!”

All three moms burst out laughing at the tone as Cure, struggling to maintain his composure, explains, “Well it started as a dare,” he begins. His dam’s attention instantly snaps to the pink mare who does her best to look innocent under the accusatory glare. “C’mon dam, it’s funny! I bet half the friggin country is reading articles like this all over the place wondering what in the hay the newspaper’s even talking about.”

“You will tell me what you did this instant, young colt!”

“I didn’t exactly do anything. I just maybe, kinda… ya know,” he rolls his hoof, “lived up to my snake theme, ya know?”

At the mare’s confused look Amethyst leans over to whisper, “He grew a second set ‘a stallion parts,” quietly enough that the girls can’t hear. “Snakes got two of ‘em.”

Ever so slowly, the mare’s right hoof comes up off the floor and drapes over her muzzle as she rubs her eyes with her fetlock. After several sighs and more slow headshakes then Cure bothers to count, she sits back and turns to him asking, “Whyyyy?” Not giving time to answer, she continues, “Why, during a literal once-in-a-lifetime event that the princess has waited a millennium for, would you do something so… so… crass and immature?!”

Both girls look up to their brother, wondering but not daring to ask what he did wrong.

He offers a weak shrug. “It seemed funny at the time?” The look on her face tells him that his answer is woefully insufficient, so he carries on. “Hay, it still is funny,” he insists, waving his right hoof at the three quietly laughing mares. “Think about it, dam. They can’t come right out and ask, and they certainly can’t try to take a picture!” Head tilted in thought, he amends, “I guess they could, but like the paper says, that’s super duper illegal.

“Especially given my status. I mean, imagine some reporter tryin ta sneak a camera under the boss lady’s,” he jerks his head back and flips his tail, aware that the girls are listening. The moms all burst out laughing anew at the suggestion that somepony would do something so bold.

“Ease up, V. He didn’t hurt nopony and, I’m guessin, there ain’t no proof of what he did.” She pauses to glance at the colt until he nods in confirmation before continuing, “The sun wasn’t up yet, and even with all’a the lights they had ya couldn’t hardly see nothin.”

“He is supposed to set an example!”

“He did!” Title insists in his defense. “Read that article again and pretend it’s not your son they’re talking about. Birth rates barely eke out death rates every year, but now we have a stallion… eventually… that’s the very example of a virile male!”

Cherry pokes Cure’s right side and asks, “What’s virile mean?”

“Healthy, but it’s an adult word, so don’t use it ‘till you are older,” he quickly answers, earning a grateful look from Lemon.

“Oh.”

“It’s not okay,” his dam remarks, picking up their argument. “Did you even consider what you did to the princess?”

“Of course I did. She’ll probably think it’s hilarious. Honestly, it’s the exact kind of sneaky funny thing she’d probably get a real kick out of. I bet she’s cracking up at the fact that all these papers,” he motions to the one in her hoof, “are just dying to know but don’t have a way of finding out. I guess a flight suit will be my standard outfit from now on.”

“You just wait,” Vines interrupts. “When you talk to her tonight I bet you her highness is going to be very upset with you. Maybe not!” she hedges, holding a hoof up forstall further argument, “but she’s waited a very long time for another alicorn to show up. You really should have thought about that when you were playing your silly prank. I expect better out of you, Cure.”

The admonishment, even if he doesn’t really agree, still stings. Looking back on it, she does have a good point. Even if it is hilarious, which it totally is, he probably should have at least made sure the princess was okay with it first. Then again, given the obligation he’ll likely eventually have to fulfill, the prospect of a variable size and shape wang may intrigue the ancient mare.

Cure has pondered many times about the princess’s sex life, mainly just out of academic curiosity. As far as he knows she’s never been married; certainly not publicly, at least. Just due to her long life she’s probably had sex more times and with more mates than any living creature, barring perhaps some professional studs, long lived dragons and, depending on what iteration exists in this world, Chrysalis or any other possible changeling royal.

The prospect of eventually, after waiting so long, having a male alicorn that can not only match her in size, but also will be capable of fulfilling nearly any imaginable fantasy she’s harbored over the millennia has to be something she’s at least considered.

“I guess I’ll just have to wait and see, but I really don’t think she’ll be upset. If anything it may give her ideas,” he finishes huskily.

“Oh my stars!” Vines moans, rubbing at her temples as the other moms all crack up again. “That’s disgusting! How could you even suggest the princess would be interested in that?!”

“I’m not one hundred percent sure where your mind went with that,” he calmly argues, “but I can guess based on your reaction, and that’s definitely not what I meant.” He pauses and furrows his brows. “I mean, I’ve already expressed my opinion on that particular subject and the only thing I can say is, ‘Not for me.’ What I mean is -”

He stops when his dam holds up a hoof. “Whatever you’re about to say, I don’t need to hear this at breakfast, Cure! Especially while I’m nursing your siblings!”

His muzzle clicks shut and he nods in acceptance. “Fair point, dam.”

Seeking to lighten the mood, Title decides to share her schedule. “I ain’t doin nothin. Today is a Savvy day.” She turns and noses at the filly’s cheek and coos at her. “Yes it is, isn’t it?” she asks to the girl’s burbling, flappy excitement. “Mmhmm! Dam’s gonna spend all day with her precious little filly!”

“We oughta take the foals out ta the park ‘fore we gotta get ready for the market,” Amethyst suggests. The idea seems to perk up Vines a little, so she continues, “We gotta get ponies used ta seein her,” she motions to the filly, “with them wings, ‘n I’m sure the girls would like ta see their little friends. Maybe we oughta Send a message ta Berry ‘n Spring ta see if they wanna bring their little ones too.”

“If you’re leaving soon I’ll come too,” Cure volunteers. “I won’t get to be around much next year, so every second I get to spend with the foals is precious. Besides, I could use a chill morning after the last three weeks. Last week, especially.”

“You didn’t talk about it much, sweetie. Was it bad?”

“Not… terrible, I guess, but it wasn’t like the capital where they’re kinda used to having an alicorn nearby. Everypony acted mostly normal, but a few were either overly reverent-like or, in some cases, askin for an autograph or whatever. One pegasus stallion had his wife ask if she could have a feather like the ones they sold in Canterlot. Dunno if they wanted to turn around and sell it or if they really wanted it as a memento for the foal when he grows up.”

“You didn’t…?”

“Nah. I gave ‘em a vague ‘alicorn stuff’ excuse and declined. Somepony made a great suggestion I’ll probably follow up on for next season. Next time I’m workin I’ll hoof out little Serpentus plushie toys with the date for the newborns I deliver. It’s a shame I didn’t think of it for my debut in Canterlot.”

“That is a neat idea,” his dam agrees.

“Yep. One bit of good news is that I finally caught up to that hippogriff I told you about. The one with the horn that didn’t work. He was down in Ferndale and when I mentioned him to Dr. Care she reached out to him. Horns don’t take much magic to fix, so I was able to take care of him last night before comin home.”

“I thought they had to do some kinda therapy or something afterwards,” Title inquires.

“He will. He’s shipping off to Manehattan to help there next, so once the season’s done he’ll need to go to Canterlot for all that. He lives in Cloudsdale, so they don’t really have any unicorn-specific services available there.”

“Ah. So…” she pauses, looking over the nearly empty plates, “should we go wake up our stallion or…?”

“Let’s wait a little bit before we go,” Vines answers. “I’m sure the twins will need to potty soon and he may want to come too.”

“That’s fine,” Title agrees. “I need to stop by the house anyhow, so I’ll head out early and meet you there. We finally got an offer yesterday, so I need to make sure nothing dumb happened while we’re gone.” She lets out a sigh, “Should probably check on our tenant while I’m at it.”

“Want me to come with?”

She regards the colt for a moment before nodding. “Sure, you can watch your sister while I do my thing.”

“I finally heard back from Violet Jewel,” is the first thing Cure calls in greeting as he approaches the pair. “The lady’s gettin around, apparently. She wrote me a letter saying she’s got herself a stallion, even, maker bless her heart. She sent a couple books this time. Neither are exactly magic books, per se,” he explains to the eager filly as they trade a nuzzle. “One is all about ethics and proper magic use, the other is about the law, which can basically be boiled down to ‘ask first’ as far as I can tell.”

“That sucks!” she grouses, stepping away as Cure turns to give her brother a hoofbump.

“Yeah, well… expect more of that when we go to school next year, babe. I gave them a quick once-over. I can just zap ‘em over to your house when I get back home if you want.”

She looks almost as disappointed as Cure was when he opened the package, though she does hesitantly nod. “I guess. It may help with the testing, at least. Are you… not doing anything today?” she curiously asks, wondering why he is disguised as a normal earth pony. He hasn’t even bothered changing his colors from the typical blue and green, though his mane does have some of the darker blue streaks he’s started wearing lately.

“Oh, I’m casting alright,” he smugly declares while withdrawing a staff from his withers.

“There’s no way that isn’t going to draw attention,” the red stallion insists. “An earth pony running around using magic will be almost as big of a story as a new alicorn.”

“Dunno what yer goin on about, dude.” He reaches back and taps his flank with the end of the staff. “I’m just usin my special talent, see? Besides, griffon mages use staves, how is an earth pony using one any kinda big deal? Even your sire said the same thing.”

Unlike the “dead” staves he left behind, the one Cure made for the range has functional nerves, muscles, fat stores for energy, and a cardiopulmonary system along with a fake wood shell to disguise the keratin interior. Though it still bears a resemblance, it’s slightly thicker than the staff Ferric made; a necessity given the internal configuration. The Cure Staff Mk. II is nearly a half hoof thick; slightly over one and a half times the diameter of the prototype and about the half again as long as the princess’s horn.

Solar pauses before starting another spell and gives the colt’s mark a considering look. After a moment’s thought he slowly bobs his head from side to side, making a thoughtful noise. “Ehh… maybe, I guess,” he eventually concedes.

“Maybe nothin. Nopony bats an eye at Ferric being ridiculously good with hammers. It’s the same thing.”

“Sort of. If you were good at using a staff for fighting, then sure… but casting spells with it? I dunno. If you want we could find out. We can go to the range over in Baltimare some day before I have to ship out so we can test the waters. They have a nice, indoor facility with actual courses and stuff.”

“Courses?”

“Daddy’s talked about it a couple times,” Dawn answers. “He says they have targets on ropes and pulleys that move and some you walk through where the targets spring up at you. Cities with more unicorns have even nicer ones where the workers use illusions.”

Solar is quick to point out, “Memberships to those aren’t cheap. I guess that’s not really an issue for you, but I’ve never been to one.”

“Would Fillydelphia have that? That’s where Marquis Merryland has his offices, so I would expect some nicer unicorn facilities.”

“Probably. If not there then definitely in Manehattan. They probably have several.” More excitedly, the older colt gushes, “Maelstrom’s combat trial rooms were enchanted by Archmage Fantastic hundreds of years ago. Supposedly they have Illusion Rooms so sophisticated you’d swear everything is real. They can simulate entire fields of battle in them, I hear!”

“No shit?! Dude, maybe I can swing by and check ‘em out sometime.”

“The Shining Suns get to go there for a field trip at the end of their second year,” Dawn says. At Cure’s completely confused look she rolls her eyes and explains, “CSGU’s dueling team. They’ve won the national championship like five of the last six hundred years.”

“Dueling team?”

Both unicorns pause and give the colt a bewildered stare. Solar slowly enunciates every word like he’s talking to a moron. “Dueling teams. Teams that duel. With magic.”

Cure scowls at the patronizing tone. “I know what a friggin dueling team is, ya smartass, I just didn’t know they exist!” He punctuates his sentence by letting loose a blast of conjured flame at an innocent dirt mound.

Unperturbed, the stallion continues, “They have them at every university and there’s an entire league of professional adult duelists. I guess I can see why you wouldn’t know much about them. They don’t exactly have a large earth pony following.”

“It’s like the rodeo,” Dawn explains. “It was all earth ponies, right?” Cure shrugs and bobs his head in the affirmative as she continues, “Earth ponies have rodeos and other more physical things, pegasi have races and aerial acrobatics and stuff. Unicorns have leagues of magic duelists.” Done with her explanation, she scrunches her snout adorably while focusing. A beam of hot plasma shoots from her horn a second later and burns a line across a nearby mound.

“Too much at once,” her brother chides as she pauses to catch her breath. “Take a couple minutes to recover, dummy.”

Cure leans over and gives the weary girl a nuzzle. “Scorching Ray?”

“Mmhmm. That’s as hot as I can do right now.”

“Pretty impressive,” he compliments, gently massaging under her ear with his snout. “It kinda sucks I’ll never be able to participate in those, but at least you’ll be able to.”

“Yeah,” she sighs, leaning more into the colt. “I get it, but it still feels unfair.”

“Me being barred is a lot less unfair than somepony having to duel an alicorn. Especially if I’m in disguise so they wouldn’t even know.”

“True. I’m wondering if they’ll give you a hard time enrolling. Wouldn’t it be something if they denied your application ‘cause you’re an earth pony.”

“That’s actually one of the reasons I’m inclined to go this route. I told the princess that earth ponies tend to be on the receiving end of tribalism on occasion. How messed up would it be if the princess’s own school turned me away without a good reason?”

Solar’s face contorts in an ugly cringe. “Dude… somepony would definitely lose their job. That would be a Tartarus of a scandal if it went public.”

“The boss lady would probably be awfully pissed,” Cure agrees. “I’ll have to ask her to hold off on telling anypony that Prince Serpentus is enrolling, otherwise they’ll be on the lookout for an earth pony, I bet.”

“I dunno, dude. So far you’ve only shown off your healing, right?” Cure nods so he continues, “I’ve seen a few articles speculating how you’re disguising yourself. One interesting article was in the paper this morning, by the way. You should have seen dad trying to explain what it was about,” he says, sides shaking in mirth.

“Or dam!” Dawn guffaws. “She was blushing so hard she turned purple!” Both unicorns burst out in laughter, commiserating on their parents’ poor reactions.

“Anyhow,” the stallion eventually continues, “So long as you stick to what you’ve shown so far it’s possible nopony will connect a colt who can cast magic with a staff like a unicorn to your other identity.”

“Keep in mind I’ll be doing cosmetic stuff in the capital too, but you’re probably right. Assuming somepony doesn’t figure it out beforehoof, that is. I dunno. I’ll cross that bridge when I get to it, I guess. Blatant subject change; I have a question about her spell. Why doesn’t anypony just use Light instead of something like Scorching Ray?”

Solar furrows his brow in thought and asks, “How would that even work?”

“When you’re using direct shaping the spell diagram has a wavelength setting, so you have full control instead of just changing color like the runic version,” Cure explains. “Set it low or high enough and crank up the power enough and it’ll wreck something pretty bad. I’m a little leery of going into ultraviolet, but infrared should be fine.”

At Solar’s doubtful look, Cure rolls his eyes and trots out into the target range area. He extrudes a thick branch of wood, then flattens one end and sharpens the other to a point. He drives the stake into the ground then returns to the firing line. “Watch.”

Using the same Light formula he has many times before, Cure adds in a directional emissions command and narrows the beam to an extremely tight setting. With a much more robust power siphon, Cure affixes the origin point to the end of his staff, points it downrange, and pours in the power.

Both unicorns stare aghast at the red beam that instantly bores a hole through the piece of wood and sears the backstop behind it. The hole is small, but the steam and hissing, popping sound coming from the surrounding wood proves the colt right; the spell is far, far too dangerous for normal use.

“That has to be illegal,” is Dawn’s immediate reaction.

“Definitely,” her brother agrees. “When would you ever need that spell, you psycho?!”

“Probably never, but you saw how much faster it is than normal spells.” He shrugs and waves at the smoldering piece of wood. “Nearly infinitely faster. That beam travels at the speed of light. It would be great for anti-air.”

“If you’re trying to kill somepony!” Solar hisses.

“Well duh. At close range it would. You also don’t have to use that much power or make the beam that tight. Here, I’ll just change the emitter setting. Instead of a quarter-hoof hole it’ll be a four-hoof beam at this range, so like…” he pauses to do the math, “less than a percent as much energy in any one spot.”

A second casting with the modified formula does far less damage, just as the colt suggested. He holds it for ten seconds before the target starts visibly steaming and hissing. “That would hurt but not kill somepony. Just don’t aim for their eyes or you’ll probably blind ‘em if they’re not wearin goggles.”

“That’s probably why nopony has ever used it! It’s too freaking dangerous, Cure! Don’t show that to anypony or… well, I don’t know if you would get in trouble, but don’t use it just in case.”

“I know, Solar,” he answers in a flat tone. “You don’t have to tell me not to shoot beams at anypony.” He pauses to think for a moment before adding, “I haven’t cast a single offensive spell at anypony that I can think of. I have used my talent, granted, but that doesn’t really count.”

“Fair enough,” he concedes. “You should get rid of that,” he nods at the target, “before somepony wonders what spell did that.”

With an accepting nod, the colt holds his staff up and blasts the remainder of the target away with a flurry of Firebolts.

Much to Cure’s disappointment, the Early Bird Beakery is not open on Sunday afternoons. He can’t fault the griff; everycreature needs some time off, and the downtown business area of Baltimare is a whole lot less busy on the weekend. That doesn’t mean he’s getting any fewer stares, but that’s more or less what he expected. Lazily flapping his wings, he lessens the air pressure above himself and floats up, then turns north to make his way to Base Carol.

Most of the ground-based ponies don’t even notice him until he’s far enough away to show up in their peripheral vision, so the vast majority of ponies that pause to gawk or, on occasion, wave, are pegasi. Flying anywhere in the city only takes a few minutes, so he’s soon coming in for a landing just a dozen or so meters away from the front gates.

He pauses a moment to peel off the hood of his flight suit, temporarily removing his crown in the process, and tucks the suddenly disconnected piece under a wing where it’s immediately absorbed. A shake of his head resets his mane, and, with a roll of his shoulders, he trots up to greet the guards on duty; the same two mares that were on duty three weeks prior, both standing at attention beside the gatehouse, ramrod straight and saluting.

“Howdy, corporal, private,” he calls out in greeting. A shallow nod has them both relax their stance as he approaches. “Sorry I don’t have any doughnuts this time, Early Bird’s was closed, unfortunately.”

“That’s okay, sir -” the unicorn begins before the private talks over her.

“Baltimare’s Best Bake Shop is open, sir!” she eagerly shouts, pointing a hoof down the street. “They have the best bearclaws in the world!”

“You can’t send his highness to fetch doughnuts!” the unicorn none-too-quietly whispers to the beige mare.

“I’m not!” she hisses back. More casually she explains, “I’m just sayin there’s a good bakery just down the street. Two blocks. Just a little down on the left. Can’t miss it,” she casually responds, facing her superior but stealing glances repeatedly in the colt’s direction.

“Really?” he asks, turning to look over his withers. “They’re open Sunday afternoons?” An exceedingly fast nod from one mare and a facehoof from the other are his answers. “I’ll have to keep that in mind for next time. I owe you one bearclaw and one grape-filled powdered doughnut, private.”

“Thank you, sir! That would be fantastic!”

“Corporal…”

“Bitterbark, sir!”

“You can just call me Posy, sir!” the private volunteers.

Schooling his expression to hide his amusement, Cure slowly nods to the pair. “Corporal Bitterbark, you wouldn’t happen to know how I would go about arranging a pegasus escort for a few hours, would you? I wouldn’t mind just taking a lazy flight around for a bit, but the princess’s orders are that I’m supposed to have somepony accompany me.”

“I’m honestly not sure, sir. Sgt. Hill would be able to set that up, I bet. You’ll find him in the command building, sir.”

“Great!” Cure turns to face Pvt. Posy with an apologetic expression. “I’m afraid I don’t have any papers with me today, private. Any chance I could talk you into looking the other way again?” The corporal stifles a snort at the private’s cringe. “I’m just teasing you, private. If everypony did their jobs as diligently as you do we’d all be better off,” he says as he makes his way past the mares. “Keep up the good work.”

That gets a smile and a small tail wag out of the mare, at least. With a jaunty wave of his wing he trots past the gate and makes his way into the command building, offering smiles and shallow nods to patrols as they pass by. Somepony must have been watching the gate because as soon as he approaches it, the front door opens and Lt. Quill steps out, gracing the colt with a quick salute.

Cure nods his head in greeting to the royal blue pegasus as he trots up the stairs into the main entrance. “Heya, LT. I was headed in to see Sgt. Hill about arranging an escort for the day. I figured you would be off on the weekend.”

“Every other,” he answers, waving the colt past him into a lobby area. “An escort for what?”

“Just to be seen, basically. I thought maybe I would head up the coast a little to the park, too. I haven’t had a chance to see any sea life since I got my talent and I’m curious to see what I can see, know what I mean?”

“Not… exactly. I’m aware, generally speaking, of your talent, but I don’t know all the nuances. If you’ll excuse me a moment, I’ll see about finding an available squad.”

“Sure thing.”

With a departing nod the lieutenant turns and trots past a security checkpoint down a hallway, pulls a card from his vest, holds it to a panel by a door, and trots inside. Cure is left in the somewhat awkward position of standing in front of an earth pony and unicorn guard unsure exactly what to do.

His attention is drawn to the north wall to the left of the hallway. Captain Stance’s photograph hangs to the left with a short bio and the date she took command of the city. She’s a local gal, it seems; born and raised right here in Baltimare, and has run Carol since Cpt. Stanza retired six years ago after twenty-five years of service. The light gray mare is in full military dress looking every bit as serious and determined as any other officer posing for their mugshot.

Small plaques for every other commander of the base fill the wall. Hundreds of years of stallions and mares giving their time and, in the case of a few, their lives for the ponies they’ve sworn to protect. An etching of the princess’s mark on their plate denotes the ones who died at their post.

Though some were surely due to health and ponykind’s acceptance of working until one literally keels over, the service end dates on some line up with periods where the griffons bit off more than they could chew. Baltimare is the closest major city to Griffonstone and, as a result, was the first stop for more than one invasion.

Seeing things like this always causes Cure to marvel at the fact that he lives in a country that has had one continuous existence for over nine hundred years. The reminder of time’s inevitable march forward also makes a pit form in his stomach knowing he’ll likely be around way longer than another nine hundred.

Even though he could, theoretically, keep everypony he cares about alive, would they even want to keep going on for that long? Over eighty soldiers’ plates decorate the wall, making the colt wonder which of his friends or family members will be the first one he will eventually immortalize with a stone marker.

His dour musings are interrupted when the lieutenant returns with three pegasi in tow. Something must have shown in his expression; Lt. Quill no more than opens his mouth before he pauses to look between the young alicorn and the memorial. “Something wrong, sir?” he gently questions.

“Nothing I know a solution to, lieutenant. Just pondering the future, I suppose.”

“That’s a heavy subject for such a young mind,” he observes.

“Reckon so, lieutenant,” he agrees. “So… what poor souls will be forced to endure my presence today?”

Shooting to his hooves and bouncing over to the ancient mare, Cure excitedly calls out “Princess!” as he leaps at her chest with wings and forelegs held wide for a ballistic hug.

Though unexpected, she doesn’t hesitate to wrap her right wing around the eager colt, careful to lay so she’s not smushing him against the ethereal surface of the astral realm. Giggling fondly, Celestia can’t help but comment, “A few foals greet me in such a way. I admit I had not expected you to do so.”

“I had a really good day today, boss!” he explains as he releases her and turns to snuggle between her forelegs. “I got up early, showed my family the wonders of meat, played at the park with Heavy and all’a our sisters, blew stuff up with Dawn ‘n Solar, went on over to Base Carol, picked up a couple of yer guards, then went around Baltimare as Serpentus doin lots of neat stuff!”

“Oh? Going out in public without your disguise already?”

“You bet! First we went up to Mason’s Cove in Canterton Park and I finally got to get in the ocean! I kept tellin yer guards not ta worry, but I think Cpl. Camber was about ta dive in after me. I think ‘cause I got wings she forgets I can use magic too.

“I finally hit her with Water Breathing and gave her membranes so she could keep an eye on me ‘n she was fine after that, even if the big chicken just stayed on the surface. She liked the built-in goggles a lot, though, so who knows? Maybe she’ll take up swimmin now.

“I’ll tell ya what, y’all don’t know how good ya got it with all this magic stuff. I’ve said it so many times I think my parents just completely tune me out anymore, but doin stuff manually compared to usin telekinesis flat out sucks, and don’t get me started on the crap that just ain’t possible. I teleport. Routinely! It’s old hat to you, I know, but instantaneous travel from A to B without the whole ‘Did I just commit suicide and clone myself?’ thing is redonkulous.

“And you’ve heard me rant about transmutation. I don’t think y’all grasp the utter bullshit that that spell really is. Red sent me a message … err… Ferric, I mean. Anyhow, she said she used that Transmutation crystal to weld two pieces ‘a metal tagether and I just about flipped my lid right on the spot! I bet Mr. Angle’s gonna damn near hug the poor girl ta death when she shows him what else we figured out. It never even occurred to me you can Transmute air just as easily as you can anything else!

“I’m goin window by window and wall by wall in our house usin Transmutation to upgrade our insulation. It’s a slow process but the results should be amazing. Here, look!”

The princess is completely floored by the absolute avalanche of words tumbling out of the colt. She can’t help but smile at the excited energy he’s exuding and has to fight back a giggle watching the normally reserved foal actually acting his physical age for a change.

Unaware of her musings, Cure projects an Illusion of a single pane of glass as he continues, “See look, you take a single pane of glass, though it needs to be a tad thicker than normal, then you slice it right in the middle, okay?” The Illusion shows a one meter square by a quarter hoof thick panel of glass, just as the colt explains, which then separates into two panes, now each approximately a centimeter and a quarter thick with a half centimeter gap between them.

“Next ya gotta seal them up on three sides so you got two panels with the usual air mix in between ‘em, right? Nitrogen, oxygen, whatever. Well those are fine ‘n dandy, but we want something lighter, so I transmuted all’a that into hydrogen. H2 just so we’re clear. Or helium would work too, I guess.

“That’s why ya gotta leave a side open and have thicker glass, cause the first experiment kinda popped the panels a tad. Hooray for subdermal armor, lemme tell ya! Oh, and obviously don’t do that near an open flame. I mean, you’d be fine but most ponies are slightly less fireproof, the pansies.

“So you go ahead and seal that last edge real fast. There’s probably a way to make the normal Shield spell seal air in but I didn’t bother, just move fast enough and it’s fine. Holding the pane so the opening is facing down should work since hydrogen gas is so light.

“So ya seal the last edge, then use transmute again to change all of that hydrogen into argon! Wham, bam, nearly perfectly insulated windows! I’ll tell ya what, boss lady, with the right glass you could have a bonfire on one side and an unmelted ice cream cone on the other of these puppies, I bet!

“Metal works almost as well but is easier ta work with ‘cause it won’t crack. I just got started on the first level of the house, but I’ll have the whole thing plated before winter sets in, even if I gotta reinforce the support beams and leave some gaps for my security system ta get through.

“That’s… quite amazing, actually, Cure,” she genuinely compliments. “I am unfamiliar with argon gas. I’m afraid my knowledge of alchemy is fairly limited.”

“That’s okay, boss. I didn’t figure you had enough time to take evenin courses at Canterlot U or whatever. Argon’s a great gas for a lot of things ‘cause it’s inert, colorless, odorless, and the only way it can hurt ya is if yer breathin in so much of it that yer body can’t get oxygen. It’s also a lot denser, so it falls down in air, or, more importantly for my purposes, creates a near-vacuum when hydrogen is Transmuted to it like so.”

“I… see. And the purpose of the vacuum?”

“There’s no better insulator. I think. It’s nearly empty space, so there’s no medium to transmit heat from one side to another. It’ll also stop sound since, again, no medium. Light doesn’t need one, so you’d hafta tint the window to block out light. I know that can be done with some ceramics in tiny, tiny quantities on the surface, but I don’t know the details. I do know that there’s somethin called transparent aluminum that’s like glass but way stronger, but I don’t know how to make it.”

“Amazing. You should really consider patenting this product,” she waves at the still hovering Illusion, “even if you intend to distribute it freely.”

“Good thinkin, boss. I’ll put together a packet and send it off ta my attorneys tomorrow. Maybe they can sort out some kinda licensing agreement or whatever, ‘cause I don’t have a whole lotta interest in becomin a door-to-door window salespony, lemme tell ya.”

He pauses, finally, after several minutes of jabbering on and wiggling happily against her chest and looks up at the underside of her chin. “So yeah, been doin a lot of neat stuff with magic and the trip to the cove was super productive. I swam and played with a few foals and a hippogriff family that was there, then went for a dive and got some really useful scans. You got a favorite color, boss? Pink like yer mane was, right?”

A moment of shock crosses her features before she reins it in. “I have to keep reminding myself how much you know that no foal would. Yes, I am partial to pink… why?”

“I’d rather surprise ya,” he demures. “Water really interferes with the range on horns, unfortunately, but I was still able to get a whole bunch of new scans. Bacteria, plankton, a bunch of fish, a few different jellyfish, crabs, snails, some small octopi, oysters, seahorses… you name it, boss.

“It took some hunting, but I also found one little guy sleepin in his burrow that I’m super excited about. It’s a kind of shrimp, but not the exact species I was hoping for. The ocean is a brutal, terrifying place, lemme tell ya. Relatively speaking, this little bastard hits harder than an earth pony can buck, and that’s without magic!”

“And you were searching this out because…?”

“Curiosity more than anything. I’d heard of the things before, but I’ve never seen one. It’s not really that useful for anything; the limbs that make it possible are insanely specialized, so while they’re great at that one thing, that’s really the only thing they’re good for. They are supposedly pretty tasty with some drawn butter, so there is that.”

“I’ll take your word for it.”

“So how’s yer week been, boss? Aside from today, mine’s been pretty busy with the hospital. Oh, and I finally caught up to Nurse Sonic. You may bump into him after the season’s over; he’s gonna need therapy and some lessons for his horn and he can’t really get that in Cloudsdale.”

“I’ll keep an eye out for him. He does tend to stand out in a crowd. My week has been somewhat more eventful than anticipated, I’ll admit.”

“Oh?”

“Mmhmm. For some reason the press corps have been absolutely bombarded with questions and requests for comment on a subject that I can honestly say I never expected.”

“Ah, I think I know what you’re talking about.”

“I’m sure you do.”

“That damn Quickhorn prick!” he growls. “I bet he’s been spoutin off to everypony that’ll listen!” He throws his hoof in the air in mock outrage, shouting, “Slander! Lies and Slander! If he wasn’t gettin tossed on a boat any day now I’d sue his ass clear back to Minos!”

“Cure…”

“Yeah, boss?”

“That is not the topic everypony has been asking about.”

Instantly calming, Cure rubs his eyes with a fetlock and lets out a muzzle-splitting yawn ending with a full body shudder. “Well look at the time. It’s been real, boss. See ya next week!” he calls, suddenly popping out of existence.

The princess stares at the spot for a long second, barely holding back the deluge of un-princessly words that fight to tear themselves free. “I’m going to -”

“I’m joking!” he yells the very instant he appears trotting out of the surrounding mists. “Whew… got a tad warmer in here all’a the sudden,” he comments, looking around as if searching for the heat’s source.

“Cure Wave.” Despite the heat of the surrounding area, the princess’s tone is cold enough to freeze a yak solid.

“Yes, your most beautiful, kind, and understanding majesty?”

“Why are my staff getting repeated inquiries about Prince Serpentus’ genitalia?”

Cure scoffs, laying just out of reach of the princess and shrugs his wings. “I dunno, boss. I guess everypony just wants a piece of me. I mean, I know I’m adorable as all get out, but sexy enough to just flat out ask about the D?” he ponders aloud, sitting up to look himself over. “Eh, I guess I can kinda see it, but you should probably put any adult ponies askin about that on some kinda watchlist. That’s kinda sick, boss.”

The princess lets out a long suffering sigh and rubs her temple with her left hoof. “Cure.”

“Mmhmm?”

“Did you do something during the parade?”

Cure briefly considers continuing the playful banter, but he easily picks up the vibe that it wouldn’t be funny at this point.

“I didn’t do anything unusual during the parade,” he flatly answers. She cocks a brow in question at the emphasized word. “I did do something before and after the parade, as well as prior to trying on my abaya.”

Like a teacher asking a pupil why they put gum in somepony’s mane, she questions the colt, “Why?”

With all the stern seriousness a small colt can convey, Cure meets the princess’s eyes, and taps a hoof on the ethereal surface with each word as he answers, “Because it was hil. ar. i. ous.” then punctuates the sentence with a firm nod.

The look of disbelief on her face conveys that she simply does not grasp the genius of the stunt. “Think about it like this boss. Right now, all across the nation and, in all likelihood, in the ruling echelons of our friends and allies, there are a plethora of questions niggling at the back of every creature’s mind. ‘What could somepony do if they had two peeners? How does that even work?

“Are we talking simultaneous action or is it one after the other?” he asks, first thrusting both forelegs out in a double punch, then alternating them in a one-two combo. “If a pony has two johnsons is the total mass of a single one split in half or are we talkin two full-fledged schlongs? Can he smush ‘em together to make some kinda superdong?

“Has he ever somehow, either accidentally while playing with them or maybe on purpose or out of curiosity, tied them together in a knot? Can he thrust his hips just right to make them clap? If so, would that be an appropriate way to show one’s appreciation for a stunning performance? If there’s a mare with two vaginas does that mean they’re legally required to hook up once just to tell the world how awesome it was? Is it considered masturbation if they rub against each other?”

The princess has hidden her face with a wing by now, but the crimson glow has crept clear down her chest; not that it was missed by the colt either way.

He continues on regardless, “Are we sure there were only two? What about his balls; does he have four of those? Yes, bee-tee-dubs. Is one set for fillies and the other for colts? Does each jimmy have its own set or are they all linked up together? If separate, are we talking a front/back divide or a left and right one? Can he divert all the flow however he wants or is it purely automatic? How many mares can he take care of in a single season? Are they uncomfortable to sit on? Just how snake-like is he, really?

“The list goes on, boss. The beauty of it all is that they can’t even ask! I mean, sure they could, but seriously, can you imagine, ‘Hey Princess Celestia!” he yells in a nasally sounding stallion’s voice, “What’s the story with Prince Serpentus’ junk?’ That would kinda imply you flipped me over and checked out the goods, wouldn’t it?”

Despite herself, Celestia, still hidden behind her wing, shakes even harder with not-so-quiet laughter.

“They sure as hay can’t ask me or they might be risking gettin lynched right on the spot. Maybe. I suppose it’s possible there’s enough curious parties out there they may hold off long enough to hear if I give an answer.” He quickly adopts his Serpentus voice and animatedly responds in mock outrage, “What kind of sicko are you asking a foal about their private parts?! I hope you’re not a parent, you degenerate! Somepony investigate this fella over here! Seriously!”

Even though her wing is still hiding her face, Cure can see the tip of her horn moving enough to know she’s shaking her head back and forth in dismay. “I can’t even deal with you right now,” she comments, barely getting it out through breathy laughs.

“See? It’s hilarious! All I have to do is wear my flight suit when I’m out in public, which I almost always do anyhow since… ya know… flyin is awesome. The real fun will be when I take the suit off and lay juuuuust right so nopony can see anything. That won’t work when I’m taller than everypony, but by then I figure the game’ll be up anyhow. I’ll probably just move everything internal and slap a strip of differently colored fur there that says ‘Stop staring, pervert’ or ‘This space for rent.’”

Still shaking slightly, she retracts her wing to find Cure sitting there; each ear morphed into a caricature of a weiner dangling off the sides of his head. He meets her eyes and, in a completely flat tone, simply says “Penis.”

The dam shatters. Celestia guffaws and breaks down into full-on howling laughter, burying her face under her forelegs for several minutes. When she finally stops and wipes her eyes she finds the colt, thankfully, back to his normal appearance. “I rest my case,” he haughtily declares.

“You… are terrible.”

“I’m awesome!” he argues with a confident smirk. “Seriously, I am glad to see you’re not some uptight ninny. I didn’t expect you to be, but ya never know, ya know?”

“I grew up in a time that few of my little ponies could even conceive,” she agrees. “Well…” she idly says with a sigh. “I suppose that puts your encounter with Ambassador Ahmad’s daughters in a new light.”

“Oh yeah, definitely. You remember what the dude said when he presented the elixirs, right?”

“Ahh… something about not needing them,” she recalls, nodding absently. “At the time I had presumed he meant because of your earth pony heritage or your domain. That does make more sense. Regardless, you do realize you will likely have to deal with these rumors for, possibly, a very, very long time?”

“Yeah, that’s fine. I’ll probably keep up the act for a few years and, once I’m an adult, just go out like normal without my suit on and react confused whenever anypony asks where my other wiener is. I’ll just look around and be like, ‘I dunno! The thing’s like a freakin labrador, always runnin away on me! It’ll turn up eventually when it gets hungry, then probably sleep for three days straight.’”

The princess takes a deep breath, shaking her head in disbelief again as she fights to hide her amusement. “I will instruct the PR ponies to continue telling everypony that the matter of your… anatomy is not a subject they will comment on. I imagine the intrigue will soon wane, but do me a favor?”

“Sure thing.”

“At least make me aware of any such plans in the future? You do have the right to do what you please with your own body, of course, but at least with some warning I could know to expect the deluge of questions my staff will soon receive.”

“No problem, boss. I’ll probably not be doing anything else anyhow. That was just an opportunity I couldn’t pass up ‘cause of the whole snake thing. You know they have two wieners also, right?”

“I hadn’t known before, but it has become common knowledge now.”

“Already spreadin education. Damn I’m good. Hey speaking of ballsacks, any word on the whole fillies only thing?”

She huffs a laugh at the unusual, yet situationally valid segue. “In a way. Several stallions have come forward for testing. Thus far no discernable pattern has been found, but early indicators show that there may be a higher percentage of affected in the military. Potential sources are being investigated, but it is too early to know if that is accurate or if it is simply the result of a higher percentage of guards volunteering for testing.”

“I know what I can do to help the testing, at least. I could use a similar binding agent that I did to inhibit or kill female sperm, but instead have it change colors like a litmus test. Have it react to colt sperm by turning blue and filly by turning red. That could be distributed en masse so stallions could test themselves and see if they need to get in to see their doctor.”

The princess positively lights up at the suggestion, scooting closer as she exclaims, “That… is brilliant, Cure! If easily obtainable, everypony could test their mate prior to the season start! Family Planning could test and grade sires during the screening process!”

“Yep, and since it’s not a medicine or anything there’s no real testing required once the accuracy of the indicator solution is verified. I’ll whip something up, send a message to Dr. Care, and stop by the hospital tomorrow. Expect a shipment of them to be on their way to Canterlot by midweek, boss. I recommend that somepony start putting together a little kit with a measuring cup and instructions so we can start shipping these out ASAP.”

“Phenomenal!” she cheers, scooping the colt into a hug and smothering him in nuzzles. “I can’t tell you how exciting this all is! I don’t even know how to begin showing my gratitude for everything you’re doing, Cure.”

“Snuggles are a good start,” he insists, nuzzling against her warm chest.

“A price I’m happy to pay,” she agrees. “While we’re on the topic, I do have news regarding your plants.”

“Oh?”

“The first round of pups from the lab rats are doing well and should reach maturity soon. By the middle of July they will be old enough to start breeding them to determine if there have been any unexpected side-effects from your Colt Trees.

“Director Storm, working off the expectation that all will be well, is already seeking a hooffull of volunteers. Unless some unforeseen complication arises in the next couple months the first round of foals could be conceived with your medicine as early as this fall instead of next spring.”

“Awesome! Any luck on the viral plants?”

“I understand those tests are also going well, but again, they were delayed due to the priority shift to the Colt Trees and because of the births. It is unlikely there will be much progress on those until early August, so I am unsure if they will be approved prior to the fall flu season. They may see use similar to your Origin Cell and Blood Trees; if somepony is suffering badly from the flu a doctor may request an exception be made.”

“They’ll work. I know they will.”

With an agreeing nod she says, “I’m certain they will as well, but I cannot fault them for being thorough. The biological creations you’ve developed are so different from everything else they’ve tested that extra caution is understandable.”

“Right… true. I would normally be really leery of trying some medicine a foal came up with too, so that’s fair.”

“Exactly. The foals you revived continue doing well. They each have had a follow-up visit and while they have slightly more magic, no adverse effects have been observed.” He opens his mouth, but before he speaks up she adds, “I am aware you had one in Baltimare as well. She will receive the same treatment, but is also a healthy, happy filly from all reports.”

“More good news!” he exclaims with no small amount of relief. “Any movement on the whole horn-ifying or winging ponies discussion? I’m curious how the chancellery took that.”

“Their response was less than enthusiastic,” she admits. “The suggestion that pegasi or earth ponies could study magic was met with a fair amount of derision. If you hadn’t told me of your experiences as an earth pony, I would have merely chalked it up to skepticism. Now, I wonder.”

“Even the ones that aren’t unicorns were opposed?”

“Shockingly, yes. Chancellor Greenbriar scoffed at the notion of her fellow earth ponies even wanting to learn magic, or fly, for that matter. Doubt was expressed that unicorns, if willing to try, would have sufficient strength and endurance to get and stay in the air.”

“The latter may be a concern, I’ll grant. I will say that while Savvy hasn’t flown yet, she flaps around real good, even if it took her a couple days to start movin her wings. She won’t be able to fly for a few more weeks, but she seems pretty happy so far. You shoulda seen my mom with her at the park. She swears she’s sayin ‘dam’ but we’re all teasin her saying we distinctly heard ‘dad’ instead.”

“Cute. You shouldn’t tease your mom, Cure.”

The colt scoffs, flicking a wing at the suggestion. “You have her to thank for the whole wiener thing. She’s the one that dared me to do it.”

Celestia’s snout scrunches in response. “Tease away.”

“Thought so.”

“Chancellor Stormsurge recognized the military value, at least, but also expressed doubts about investing in training earth pony and pegasi guards magic as well. I believe he would prefer to take advantage of enchanted crystals, though others were quick to point out the cost and difficulty in supplying sufficient quantities to matter.”

“A valid concern,” he agrees. “That reminds me… a few months ago Sgt. Haze and I were talkin about super high tier crystals for coastal defense or whatever.”

Celestia nods at the suggestion. “We are working with our suppliers to find suitable crystals. The chancellor has appointed a team of military advisors to determine what spells would be most impactful and what deployment methods should be used under different circumstances. Within a few years’ time any would-be invader will find themselves in for quite a surprise.”

“Only for a moment. If it would help, I can program those spells when the time comes. I have little doubt you can as well, but I’m working under the assumption they’re not ones you have cast frequently, if at all. With my memory and muscle control I should be able to cast them perfectly every time.”

“And you certainly aren’t eager to get a glimpse at high tiered spells like that,” she knowingly suggests.

With a helpless shrug he admits, “Of course I am. Presumably I’ll need to know crap like that sooner or later anyhow.”

“I am only teasing, Cure. Are you sure you will be okay knowing you had a hoof in, potentially, the death of hundreds or thousands of intelligent creatures?”

“Please,” he scoffs, “I’d be about as responsible as the blacksmith that crafts a sword. Besides, as long as those things are only used for what they’re intended I won’t lose a wink of sleep knowing a bunch of invading or raiding assholes got what’s comin to ‘em. Ya reap what you sow, boss.”

“Very well. I will let you know when the time comes.”

“Good. Anything else goin on I need to know about?”

After a thoughtful pause the princess slowly nods her head. “I had considered not making you aware, but… I feel it is more important that you learn from this. There was an assault reported the evening after you departed.”

Cure’s mind races to think of anypony that could have been hurt that he would somehow “learn” from, but comes up empty.

“The name isn’t one you will recognize, but you may remember the pony,” she says, projecting an Illusion of an earth pony stallion.

It takes a moment before it clicks. “He was one of the protesters, wasn’t he?”

“He was,” she confirms. “Sparky Flint was terminated from his job the Friday after those pictures were published. Since there wasn’t a valid, documented reason for the dismissal he was granted expedited unemployment benefits, but his job hunt has been less than successful. The leading theory is that somepony recognized him and decided to dispense their own form of justice. It was a unicorn, apparently, as he was Stunned, then kicked a few times while unconscious. The bruising matches the size and shape of a unicorn stallion as well.”

“Freaking coward!” the colt venomously spits. “If ya got a problem with somepony at least have the cojones ta say it to their face!”

“It was a rather underhoofed attack, but criminals are not typically the most brave of souls. We cannot know for sure that the perpetrator was acting due to the slight against you, but nearly every single other protester from that day has experienced repercussions in some way or another as well.”

“Great!” he huffs. “This is exactly the kind of shit I didn’t want to have to put up with when I was debating accepting the, admittedly awesome, crown, ya know?”

“I am aware.”

The colt sighs and sags under the feeling of disappointment and, to a small degree, responsibility over what has happened. “So what now?”

“The investigation will continue, but with no witnesses…” she trails off with a shrug. “Magical signatures don’t cling to other ponies long, so by the time investigators arrived at the hospital it had fully dispersed.

“Don’t take this too hard, Cure, but always keep in mind that your actions will have consequences far beyond what you anticipate. Some, like your prank, may be amusing. Others… not so much.”

“Alright. On one hoof, the prick probably needed a good kick in the tail. Myself aside, you’ve done too much for ponies to show that kinda disrespect. A part of me is perfectly fine with him gettin a whoopin. Freedom of speech doesn’t mean freedom from repercussions when you exercise it. On the other… I have a pretty good idea of what happens when unpopular opinions are suppressed, even if not by the government.”

“Not the reaction I expected,” she confesses.

He huffs and rolls his eyes, remarking, “I bet you expected me to feel bad for the moron like most of your little ponies would. Well, I do, in a way. He shoulda at least got ta see his attacker. I’m fine and happy with an ambush. Hell, it’s my go-to tactic, but that’s for enemies, not ponies I disagree with. I’m more worried about any foals these morons have suffering as a result of their parents’ stupidity.”

“A reasonable concern.”

“Well… I assume you have ponies keepin tabs on stuff?”

“To a degree. I suspect your estimation of Equestria’s clandestine operations is a great deal more extensive than they are in reality.”

“That’s a topic for another day,” he comments. “Can you at least tell me if it gets out of hoof? If push comes to shove I’ll pick up a couple extra patients and set up a ‘I’m sorry your parents are idiots’ fund so the foals aren’t too adversely affected.”

“I don’t believe it will come to that. These things tend to be forgotten shortly enough. It is also entirely possible that his assault had nothing to do with you at all, but I felt you should at least be made aware. Either way, that is very kind of you to offer.”

“Yeah, kindness is my middle name,” he snarks. The phrase gets an uncomprehending look from the mare before it dawns on him that middle names, as far as he knows, are not a thing on the planet. “You know how griffons have a given name and a surname typically inherited from the sire?” She nods. “Same thing, except at some point, and don’t ask me when or why, an almost second given name started getting added in.”

“Ah.”

“I’ve not shared that name with anypony. Never wanted to say it out loud. In a lot of myths and legends having somecreature’s full name is almost like… I dunno, it gives power over them, sometimes a lot depending on the legend.”

“I’ve not heard of such a thing before. No culture that comes to mind makes an attempt to obscure one’s name. The only way I could envision that working would be if one were trying to form some kind of link to a target where no other can be created. Names are not unique, generally, so I believe a stronger connection would be required for any real chance of success. Perhaps in a culture with longer, more distinct names, but… I have my doubts that a name alone would be useful even then.”

“That’s kind of a relief. Hey, speakin of magic stuff, I have a bit of a proposal for ya.”

“I’m listening…”

“First off, have you talked to anypony about Prince Serpentus enrolling at CSGU like… at all? I told my lawyers and I remember bringing it up in front of Prince Blueblood and his family, but I don’t think anypony else knows… maybe I said something to Lt. Spear when we were hangin out. Oh! And Director Storm, Dr. Crystal, and some of the Baltimare Hospital board know, but I don’t expect any of them to spread that around.”

“I have not yet told anypony. I’m sure many assume you will attend either next year or when you’re old enough, but no official statement has been made saying you will, especially not with a definite time frame. Am I to assume you wish to remain anonymous for Dawn Glow’s sake?”

He bobs his head from side to side as he explains, “Kinda, but also I was thinkin that I’d like to attend as myself, minus the wings and horn. Cure Wave is an earth pony with a staff cutie mark, so him being able to use a staff to cast spells isn’t completely impossible, right?”

“That’s brilliant, Cure! That should work quite well. Oh and when you eventually reveal your true identity that you were able to enroll only using a staff will be an inspiration for other earth ponies too! What a wonderful idea!”

“Credit goes to Sapphire Sprint on that one, boss. Here’s the catch, though. I want to go through the testing and enrollment process exactly the same as any other student.”

She easily agrees, pointing out, “You would have had to regardless.”

“Oh. Well, we’ve talked as if it’s a sure thing so many times, I just kinda assumed you were simply placing me there one way or another.”

Celestia scoffs and rolls her eyes. “Oh yes, because your abilities and aptitude are such that you wouldn’t be capable of passing. By the time next September rolls around it would not surprise me to find your magic capacity on par with an average adult civilian. As for casting proficiency, you are already far beyond the average adult. The only area you need practice with is dexterity, and you are not far behind a unicorn of your own age. I have no doubt you will pass any test put before you, Cure.”

“Geez, boss. Yer gonna make me blush over here,” he teases. “Still, do me a favor and don’t tell anypony involved that I’m enrolling. I don’t want anypony being biased when they’re evaluating applicants, alright?”

“Very well. I will not say anything to anypony.”

“Cool. Any updates on the Pure Dew trials?”

Cure is taken aback slightly when the princess’s features gain a hard edge. Her snout wrinkles, wings ruffle, and tail flicks hard to the side in annoyance. “Lady Clean Wool is scheduled to appear before me this coming Friday for sentencing. Her conspirators have already been shipped off to Salt Lick Penitentiary. She will likely join them in the next ten to twelve days, then spend the remainder of her years behind bars.”

“A life sentence?”

“She is in her late forties. Her sentence will be twenty-five years. If she does live that long she will have little time left to enjoy afterwards. You will likely hear news regarding the revocation of her title and imprisonment soon as well. It happens so infrequently that I expect it to be in a number of papers.”

“Huh. I kinda expected her sentence to be more along the lines of what the minotaurs got. Why were theirs so light, relatively speaking? I mean… eight years is still a long time in prison, but…”

“The minotaurs also face banishment, a prospect that seems less harsh given Ambassador Quickhorn’s behavior. For most, banishment is little better than a death sentence, but if relations with Equestria deteriorate then they may end up getting off somewhat easier than intended.

“Then again, they did fail their task. Not only that, but somepony wrote ‘Fool’ all over the leader, adding further to their humiliation. It is possible they will be shunned upon their return, but only time will tell.”

“Guess so boss. I think that’s the last thing I wanted to check on. You got anything for me?”

“No, but I do have an update regarding a few things we discussed weeks ago. First off, aerial scouts have completed several sorties near our old castle grounds. Thus far there is no indication that anything is amiss. The next step will be to have two squads investigate the cave directly, which is scheduled to occur on the first.”

Cure nods in understanding. “Are you planning on having them grab some plant samples on the off chance they stumble upon plunderseeds?”

“Only if they can do so safely. If an active threat is found then we will reevaluate our options. The other update I have is regarding Ponehenge. As I had expected, so much time has passed that there are no obvious signs of a fight remaining. The site has been scanned on occasion before and the results from the latest survey reveal nothing unusual.

“The rocks and surrounding area have always carried a latent magical current which is still present now. Without entering the site and performing more detailed scans there is likely little else to be discovered.”

“... and that’s happening now?”

“No. I have followed your advice on the matter. As much as I long to see my mentor, if he has been banished for nearly two millennia then there is little to lose and much to gain by waiting until you are more capable. While I have faith in my troops, there is no harm in waiting until you are ready to stand beside me. It will also allow time to train them and prepare other contingencies.”

“Be honest with me, boss. How do you think this Shadow really stacks up against you? Are we in trouble if some moron accidentally lets this thing loose?”

“No. I expect it would fare very poorly, especially given my domain. Luna was an alicorn with nearly as much power and experience as I at the time, and she knew to launch her attack at night. While our fight was destructive, she was certainly not capable of defeating me. I…” she drifts off for a moment and sighs, hanging her head in sorrow. “I had hoped that upon her death she would come back to me… without the Nightmare. When that did not happen after several attempts I had only one option available to truly stop her.

“If your intel is correct and Stygian is indeed the Shadow then I would expect killing him to be a simple matter, but I am unsure what that will do to the creature possessing him. My hope is that you, along with my paladins, can contain him long enough that I can either banish it back from whence it came or burn the Shadow out of him. That may kill him in the process, but with you there…”

“I may be able to keep him alive.”

“Exactly. If not, I will see the threat neutralized one way or another.”

“Damn, Celly don’t play,” he lightly comments, bobbing his head in appreciation.

“Ugh… well over a millennium later and that nickname still frazzles my coat. Please don’t call me that,” she nearly begs. “That was his name for me, and I hated it.”

“Sorry, boss. Won’t happen again.”

“Thank you,” she emphatically replies.

The two ponder their conversation thus far, trying to think of anything new to add.

“Your statue is coming along.”

“What?!”

“The one Director Storm told you about. She is quite excited about it.”

“She was serious?”

“Of course she was serious, Cure! They’re planning to put it in the plaza directly in front of the main entrance. The Canterlot University Medical Center’s board of trustees has commissioned one as well.”

“Great. I wonder how many wieners they’ll have.”

A barked laugh escapes the mare before she covers her muzzle with a hoof. “It had better not have any!”

“The photographer didn’t capture that angle, so unless the sculptor takes some creative license then I would assume it will.”

“Maker help me, Cure. Over the centuries I have seen and heard any number of things I, at some point, thought I never would. I can honestly say that some of what comes out of your mouth is so far outside of expectations that I find myself completely at a loss as to how to respond to them.”

“You’re welcome.”

A moment of silence settles between the pair as the elder scowls weakly at the smug foal.

“That was not some roundabout way of saying thanks.”

“Sure felt like gratitude to me.”

Another sigh escapes the ancient alicorn.

Sensing that there’s no further topics to discuss, Cure stands, rears up, and leans heavily against her chest, wrapping her neck in a wing hug. “G’night, Celestia. I’ll see ya next week.”

Carefully wrapping a foreleg around him, she squeezes him back. “Good night, Cure Wave. Until then.”

Author's Note

Lots of updates this chapter. I think I saw a few comments asking if Cure ever did catch up with Sonic when he was in Canterlot. He did not. The events of the morning he intended to speak to the hippogriff kinda threw off his whole game for the rest of the day. That wasn't an oversight on my part, nor is a follow-up on a few other things that are still hanging out there. There probably is something I've let slip out of my notes, but such is life. Things do tend to slip through the cracks.

Oh well. Happy reading, folks. I hope you enjoyed it and, as always, thanks for reading / rating / commenting!

Chapter 84: Orientation

Monday, July 13th, 909 AB (15 days later)
Just after sunrise

“Morning, son,” Deed quietly whispers, nuzzling into his oldest’s mane. “Yer dam’s got yer breakfast just about ready, so go get yerself cleaned up.”

Carefully folding his wings, Cure sits up and leans forward against his sire’s chest while doing his best not to disturb the fillies. He wraps the dark stallion and a hug, nuzzling against the much larger neck as he lets out a yawning sigh. “Morning, pa. Love you.”

“Love you too, champ. Now get moving ‘fore ya wake the girls. Big day ‘n all that.”

With one last bump of his snout in his son’s mane Deed steps away from the bed. The stallion walks almost silently out the door; a possibility only thanks to his effective mass being reduced drastically. Cure lifts up to hover, moves his sleeping sisters closer into his vacated warm spot, grabs the plain saddlebag he’d made for his royal adornments, and gently closes the door behind himself. A pitstop later he makes his way downstairs, unsurprised to find Savvy hop-jumping around her cheering dam in the nursery room just opposite the stairs.

Title seems to be on foal duty while Vines gets the food ready. While Savvy eagerly climbs on anything and everything just to glide back down a moment later, her dam is keeping a protective foreleg over the twins nursing.

“’Mornin, momma. How’s the prettiest pair’a pink ponies in the neighborhood today?” he asks, wrapping her side and neck in a hug.

“’Morning, babe. In a word, energetic. At least one of us is. She’ll be flyin in no time, maker help me. We’ve already eaten, so don’t wait on our account.” She turns just in time to catch the babbling filly, separating from Cure and pinning the smaller foal between her forelegs for a round of aggressive nuzzles and belly noms.

Savvy shrieks in laughter, somehow wiggling free after a moment and hops up, wrapping her forelegs around Cure’s neck. “Coo! Coo, Coo, Coo!” The enthusiastic butchering of his name is just too adorable, but the attention of the energetic filly wanes after he returns the hug and plants a sloppy kiss on her cheek. He gives each twin a small snout bump in their crown, careful not to interfere with their breakfast while he checks them over. Finding they’re good to go for a while, he leaves the four behind on his way to the dining room by the kitchen.

“Mornin, dam!” he calls out, trotting up to her side for a hug. A green foreleg wraps around his back, squeezing him tight. “Love you. Pancakes?”

“Mmhmm. Love you too, sweetheart. Your coffee’s ready,” she says, nodding towards the full carafe.

A large mug is poured and some sugar is added in as he hops up on his booster across from his sire to Amethyst’s right and gets ready to dig in.

The dark mare reaches over to poke his side asking, “Think yer ready, colt?”

“Dunno. I think these first few weeks will be nuts. Or maybe not if the other Health Authorities haven’t had time to get everything sorted out.” He pauses to shoot his dam a grateful smile when she drops a couple flapjacks in front of him.

“Got ‘nuf batter for another, V?”

“There’s plenty left, Amy.”

“Lemon already take off?”

“Sure did, sport. She said ta wish ya luck too. Also said ta remind ya ‘bout Wind’s first few customers this afternoon. Said the girl was just ‘bout dancin when she dropped off the appointment slips.”

“I bet. From the looks of things she’s gonna be makin some good bits for a teenager. No surprise she’s fillin my calendar given the makeover I gave her. From what Drift said she probably won’t last the month at City Hall, and Lightbright or whatever her dude’s name is might be down a fillyfriend here soon. Twenty bits says she’ll pounce on me for her payout before I make it two steps away from the store today.”

Vines drops another pancake on his stack and one in front of Amethyst as she asks, “Why would she leave her coltfriend, honey?”

“She once told me she wants her own stallion. I mean… have you seen her?! I don’t think she’ll be lonely for long.”

“Somethin tells me she don’t mind sharin if the colt’s worth it,” his sire observes, shooting the young alicorn a knowing look.

“The whole sharing thing is weird enough, pa. I can’t wrap my head around how siblings would share a dude. That seems… kinda gross, honestly.”

“Happens sometimes, son. Maybe not much longer once yer plants get approved, but,” he trails off with a shrug. “Lotsa mares think a good stallion’s worth it.”

“Hey V, didn’t you ‘n Mossy both have tha hots for the same stallion once?”

Cure glances to his left, surprised to find the green mare blushing while she puts the pans in the sink. The topic of her family is brought up so seldomly that he wasn’t even sure if she had siblings. It would be very strange for an earth pony farming family not to have multiple foals, but he’s never happened upon anypony that shares a similar enough scent he suspected they’re related.

“I was only a filly! I lost interest in him before I was even twelve! Besides,” she turns and approaches Deed’s right, nuzzling up into his mane and biting at the tip of his left ear, “I found a much better stallion than he could ever be.”

“Damn right ya did, babe!”

Cure watches on fondly as his sire sets his coffee and paper down, turns, and wraps his dam in a hug, kissing up and down her cheek and growling as he bites at the base of her ear. “Get a room, you two. Or wait five minutes ‘till I head out.” He glances down at the table and reconsiders. “No… Definitely get a room, or use Sterilize like a billion times. I will ground you both if I smell anything funky when I get home for dinner!”

Despite the tease, Cure couldn’t be happier to see his parents being playful together. Memories of Cyndi unexpectedly leaping on Ed surface as Deed and Vines wrap each other in a neck hug and sigh into the other’s mane, happy to rub coats with their beloved. A smile stretches across his face as he finishes off the last bite of his pancakes and knocks back the little coffee left in his mug. He hops down and wraps Amethyst in a hug, nuzzling into the purple mare so she doesn’t feel left out by his parents’ affectionate display. “Love you, ma.”

“Love you too, squirt. Good luck,” she calls, waving as he gives each parent a quick trot-by nuzzle on the way to the back door.

He pauses by the door and adopts his fuzzy brown pegasus disguise, then calls back, “I’ll let ya know how it’s goin when I get a free moment. Love you, see y’all later!” The shutting of the door muffles the shouts back. With a quick canter, the colt lightens himself and leaps into the air, climbing in a vertical loop before righting himself and turning to the east. A familiar weatherpony catches his eye, so he shouts a greeting to Glacial’s sire as he passes by.

It takes the light gray stallion a second to realize who the pegasus shouting for him is, but he finishes pushing his cloud into place and zips over to the colt once he does. He takes up position to Cure’s left as the two fly together towards the cloud district. “Today’s the big day, isn’t it? They had an article in the papers and everything.”

“Ugh. I’m hopin it’s not a complete disaster, but… well, gotta start at some point, right?”

Rain bobs his head in agreement, waving a hoof dismissively. “Ehh, I bet it won’t be that bad. I gotta get back to it, Cure, but good luck, alright son?”

“Thanks, Mr. Rain! Have a good one!”

With a final departing smile the stallion veers off to the north, circling back to his work as Cure continues on, picking up speed on his way to Baltimare. The skies are about as busy as they get between Golden Hills and the city; with the early shift starting soon nearly every pegasus and bat pony commuter is making their way east. The vast majority are quite a bit older than the colt, but there’s no shortage of foals flying with their dam or sire on the way to daycare either.

Cure notices a lot of ponies are chatting amicably; far more than he would expect so early on a Monday morning. He figures these folks must see each other every day on their commute and, if it weren’t for their more sedate pace, he would probably form up into the impromptu flock they’re all traveling as.

A decent number, even if far fewer, ponies are headed the other direction as well. The westbound flock has a lot more bats in it, probably finished with their overnight shift and heading home for the day. They’re not moving quite as quickly, both because of the eastward wind and the fatigue from getting through a work day.

Called out greetings are traded between the groups as they pass, though by then Cure’s pulled quite a distance ahead of the flock.

It occurs to him that, at some point, somepony is going to notice a brown pegasus colt is suddenly part of the commuting group. It could be something as simple as a parent keeping an eye out for somepony to introduce a daughter to, or perhaps somepony will be smart enough to realize that said colt always shows up the same days the new prince works at the hospital.

A quick, subtle headcount shows that only two other colts of his approximate age are in the eastward group, and both have the far slimmer pegasus build. Simply changing his colors some days will, if anything, draw more attention to himself. Flying either far higher or closer to the ground would likely have the same effect since pegasus eyes are sharp enough that he wouldn’t easily evade detection.

The only viable solution would be to use one of his mid-high crystals to cast a more powerful form of Invisibility than what he typically uses. It’ll force him to be more aware of his surroundings, but since he’ll be able to fly in full alicorn mode the availability of his horn’s aura should make that more feasible, especially if he flies higher than pegasi typically do to avoid their normal lanes. He makes a note to do exactly that when he has magic to spare at some point today.

With a dip and slight twist of his left wing he pulls himself to the north while decreasing his altitude. Once he’s on target for the park near the zoo he slows and smooths his descent by arcing his wings slightly up and spreading the feathers wide to catch more air. A couple light flaps has him landing at a canter’s pace and, after he double checks to ensure nopony is looking, he ducks under a tree by some bushes and finishes his Serpentus disguise.

Crown, regalia, shoes, and glimmering partial flight suit in place, he slings his bag back on, adding a copy of his mark to at the same time and altering its colors. Wings spread, the colt lightens himself and looks up into the sky far away from air traffic.

The bright flash of his Teleport draws attention from nearly every flier in the area. It only takes him a moment to orient himself, honing in on the hospital to the south as a squad of pegasi turn to intercept him. He meets the lead mare’s eyes and motions with his head towards the hospital.

Quick on the uptake, she gives him a hoof salute and the squad forms up around him as he picks up speed. “Good morning, your highness!”

“‘Mornin, corporal. Thanks for the escort.”

“Yes sir!”

A moment’s flight brings the group into visual range of the hospital, and Cure can feel the dread growing when he sees what awaits him. “I don’t suppose I could talk you into trading jobs with me for the day, could I?”

“Afraid not, sir. I recommend we use the roof entrance.”

“Ehh… normally, I would, but we can’t deny the public, or the camera ponies, their prince on his first day, can we?”

She looks over her withers, not bothering to hide the cringe. “If you say so, sir. It looks like Sgt. Wavecrest is clearing out a landing zone for you, at least.”

Cure follows her pointed hoof and, sure enough, there is a blue unicorn mare beside the base of the steps with a few chevrons on her shoulders barking out orders to her guards.

Cure looks over the crowd as they approach, dividing the plaza into eight sections and estimating how many ponies are in each one. Though nowhere near as bad as it could be, he figures there has to be somewhere around eight hundred ponies, griffons, hippogriffs, zebras, minotaurs, cows, donkeys, and other creatures gathered outside the hospital, filling the plaza and several surrounding streets.

Fortunately it seems like quite a large number are there just to gawk or, based on their cameras or articles of clothing, report on the spectacle. Only a third of the crowd seems to be making any attempt to actually get to the hospital, and Cure can already see the front of the herd slowly being organized into a swerving line by the guards and hospital staff that have taken to the field.

Ages run the gamut from parents with newborns clear up to the elderly and, to his relief, the sergeant seems to be instructing his squad to prioritize them as best they can. A griffon in Equestrian armor is a pretty uncommon sight, so seeing a pair of them out in the field together instantly catches his attention. There’s bigger fish to fry, though, so he dismisses the rarity as he comes in for a landing in the cleared space.

His escort sticks around, waiting either for a dismissal or, more likely, to get the sergeant’s permission to help out. The sergeant straightens up and offers a quick salute which is promptly returned by the colt. “How bad is it, sarge?”

“Not gonna lie, sir. It’s a right mess,” she starts, glancing up as a three-pony squad in heavy armor steps out the front doors, “but I’ve got two more squads on the way to lend a hoof, so we’ll have it all straightened out lickety-split. If you want to head on in, sir, I think the admin team have a plan put together and the boss doc is waiting for ya. And, of course, Sgt. Blackhoof’s squad is here from Meadow as your detail for the day.”

“Awesome. Good work, sergeant,” he calls, giving the mare a respectful nod and approaching the ponies that’ll be shadowing him today. “Sgt. Blackhoof? Is that your real name or did you have to whoop somepony to earn that one?” he asks, reaching out to bump the solid black earth pony’s hoof in greeting.

The jest gets a smirk from the stallion who offers a helpless shrug. “Dam always says I was a kicker if that counts, sir.”

“Works for me. Hopefully that’s not a skill set you’ll get to utilize today. Looks like a long one, so I better get started.” With a beckoning wave of his wing, Cure leads the group into the hospital, eyes landing on Dr. Care off to the side of the main reception desk.

The green mare, along with several of her colleagues, is busy directing staff to deal with the much smaller crowd inside the lobby, but she doesn’t miss when the gold clad colt walks in the front door and she quickly waves him over. As he gets close she motions with her head for him to follow away from the lobby as she starts explaining, “Glad you’re here early, highness.

“We have more stand-by staff on the way in, but for now we’re trying to get everypony’s information and figure out if any of them are legitimate emergencies. We only had four referrals from other RHA’s scheduled today, so all those out there,” she jerks her head back, “are walk-ins.”

He gives her an “Okay” so she knows he’s following along.

“We have a few ponies in the ICU that need to be prioritized before we deal with them, then the mob, so we’re headed that way right now.” She glances back to his escort and adds, “Sorry, sarge, but there won’t be enough space for you in the patient rooms.”

“That’s fine. Hallway’s good enough.”

“Perfect. While you’re helping the ICU patients we’ll be getting everything organized. We have a room right up off the lobby set aside for ya. I know you work fast, so the plan is to have them come in, you do your thing, we get ‘em out of your mane, and we’ll move on to the next patient.

“Most ponies don’t go to the hospital alone, so don’t let the number worry you. There’s probably only a hundred or so patients out there, and if more than a dozen have anything seriously wrong I would be amazed. Triage is the word of the day. Once we identify some high priority patients and figure out what everypony’s here for we’ll be better able to get everypony taken care of.”

The mare stops rather suddenly and turns to face Cure, going down to her barrel so she’s at eye level. “Do not burn yourself out, okay?”

“Umm… okay?”

“I’m serious, highness. When you need a moment, speak up. If you need a snack or a drink, say something. Don’t work until you’re about to drop, and, if you’re feeling stressed, take a break. We have refreshments on hoof if you need anything, okay?”

“Yes, ma’am.”

She stares into his eyes for a second, then nods in acceptance. “Good. The only truly unacceptable outcome for the day is you feeling so overwhelmed you don’t want to come back. Nopony out there is going to die, okay? At least, not today they aren’t. Got me?”

“You bet, chief.”

“Great!” She stands, turns, and resumes her trot as she continues, “Just remember, you can’t be everywhere or do everything. Help everypony you can today, come to the cafeteria and we’ll get ya fed ‘n watered, then you go do what you have to do to relax and we’ll do it all over again on Wednesday. I figure in a week or two the insanity will die down and you’ll get to see what a normal day is like.

“The ICU is right through these doors,” she says, motioning past a desk with some guards and nurses working. “Dr. Nala,” she nods in greeting to an approaching zebra, “is the primary attending physician for the ICU this morning. She will be your supervisor until the two of you… well, do what you can, I suppose.”

“It is a pleasure to meet you, your highness.” The mare, Dr. Nala, seems to be in her late twenties, though Cure can admit to himself that he’s had little enough exposure to their culture to be able to easily peg approximate ages. She speaks with a slight accent he would expect from a native Equestrian that grew up in a foreign speaking household.

Her “it is” sounds more like “eet ease” and the emphasis is more heavily placed on “sure” and “ness,” which she pronounced “highnees” more than “highniss.” There is also a slight rolling of her R’s that he’s not encountered thus far on Equus.

All and all, he finds her voice damn sexy; much huskier and deeper than most mares, aside from Amethyst, and with a hint of exotic different-ness that strikes a chord with the colt for some reason.

Despite that, the first involuntary thought that comes to mind is that this mare is here as some kind of spy or agent. Consciously, he is aware how unlikely and unfair that thought is, but it still surfaces on its own regardless. The very notion is absolutely ridiculous for a plethora of reasons. Celestia’s agents would definitely have done some kind of background check on everypony in the hospital, likely far beyond what the hospital and local RHA would have during her onboarding.

She’s probably been a doctor for over a decade, and chose to live here instead of literally anywhere else even though such an experienced physician would be welcomed anywhere, especially since she’s good enough to run a major metropolitan area’s ICU.

Cure can’t help but feel a little disgusted with himself over the biased thoughts and, with more effort than he would like to admit, powers through them to act like the professional that the current situation calls for. The two trade a hoofbump as he responds to her greeting, “The pleasure is all mine, doctor. Show me what needs done and how you’d like to see it accomplished and, unless it’s packed in there, you should have yourself an empty ward soon enough.”

“That would bee fantasteek!” she exclaims, motioning to a Cleaning crystal by the door. Dr. Care excuses herself to go help the front out while Cure and his entourage head in to get started.

What greets the colt is a setup similar to the maternity wards he’d been working in the month prior. Ten moderately sized rooms line the outside wall, three to his left and right and another four along the back. The central area houses a collection of nursing stations, supply rooms, bathrooms, equipment storage areas, and all the other necessities to make the place work.

Dr. Nala walks at a quick pace, forcing Cure into a half-canter to keep up. “Mr. Net arrived a few hours ago with his wife. She said he was very disoriented and fell when he got up to go to the bathroom early in the morning.” She stops before the pulled curtain and calls out, “Hello! May we come in?”

A light green elderly unicorn mare peeks out, her eyes passing right by the zebra and landing on the young alicorn. She bursts out in body-wracking sobs and walks towards him, falling on her barrel as she embraces the colt and squeezes him to her chest. “Thank the maker you’re here! Please!” she shouts, squeezing him tight, “Please help my Bulgie! Please, I’m begging you!” she cries, thoroughly soaking his mane with her tears.

A wide-eyed look over his withers shows every bit as much bewildered shock on the three protectors as he feels. Apparently Guard training is somewhat lacking in protocol when it comes to distressed wives begging for somepony to save their husband. They all look like they want to intervene, but have no idea how to save the colt from the embrace without hurting the frail mare.

Dr. Nala is quick to lend a hoof, gently but firmly prying the elder’s hooves far enough away to free the colt. “You must let him work, Missus Tidepool! He cannot examine your husband if he cannot even get in the room!”

The pleas of the doctor fall on deaf ears, and she soon finds herself wrapped in a hug instead, her forelegs full of hysterically sobbing unicorn. She waves over the pegasus specialist who, after giving her sergeant a pleading look, steps in to comfort the distraught wife, freeing the doctor in the process.

Dr. Nala motions for Cure to follow and ducks into the room. They find an elderly graying yellow unicorn stallion that he suspects, based on her description of his symptoms, has suffered a stroke. He is laying on his right side with a mask on his muzzle, intubated and unconscious. Hospital beds in Equestria are far lower to the ground; an ergonomic necessity for quadrupeds to be able to easily reach without balancing on hind legs.

“He will likely live, and may recover some but…”

“Who knows what kind of a life he’ll have,” Cure agrees, finishing her thought.

“Indeed. He is full revive.” She gives the colt a hopeful look. “I know not the limits of your capabilities. Is this something within your power to address?”

A quick scan reveals exactly what he expected, along with the plaque buildup associated with early Alzheimer’s, or “senile dementia” as it is called in this world’s medical books. “I can fix everything wrong with him, but the memories that have been lost may not come back.”

Dr. Nala barely has to consider it. She nods and tells him, “I authorize you to do what you can.”

“Can we get his vent removed? I’ve got him now. He’s not going anywhere. Just ease it out slowly and I’ll take care of the damage.”

Another round of sobs and repeated “thank the maker!” sounds out as the wife pulls the curtain open and squeezes past the doctor, climbing half on the bed and burying her face in her husband’s graying mane.

Dr. Nala moves around the bed, looking at Cure for confirmation. Once he nods she adjusts the machine and reaches for a drawer.

“No need for a cath, doc. I’ll deal with the mess. Ease the tube out and he’ll be fine.”

“Very well.” With utmost care, she removes the straps on the mask holding the tube in place, disconnects the tube from the machine, checks the patient’s vitals and, once she’s sure he’s still breathing, slowly begins withdrawing the tube from his throat and mouth.

“Alright, I’ve still got him. I’m going to let him wake up on his own. He’s gonna be confused until he realizes where he is, Mrs. Tidepool. You heard me about the memories, right?”

An understanding hum in affirmation sounds out as she nods into the stallion’s mane.

“Okay. They may come back somewhat. They may not. All the memory problems should be a thing of the past moving forward, though. He’ll be like he was forty years ago.”

Another round of body-wracking sobs erupts from her as Cure finishes his work. “All done. I fixed a few other things while I was at it. He bruised some ribs when he fell and his hips weren’t doing the best. Neither were his eyes. While ya got me, would you like a checkup too, ma’am? I don’t want to fix him all up then have you droppin in for a visit next week, ya know? We wouldn’t want to put either of ya through that. Again.”

With the mare’s blessing, Cure takes a few minutes to fix up the most critical and inconveniencing issues plaguing her. Dr. Nala does another check of the stallion’s vitals, relieved to see that everything seems stable. They turn down the light crystals and draw the curtain closed, leaving behind the couple in an adorable sleeping embrace.

They barely step out when the still drenched specialist softly asks, “Is he okay?”

“It would seem so,” the doctor answers. “An incredible ability, you have,” she notes, turning to face the young alicorn. “I find myself envious, yet the prospect of having such a power would terrify me to no end.”

Unsure how to respond, Cure slowly nods in agreement. “It’s not always easy, but it has its moments. The hugs are nice,” he bashfully admits. “Griffon and hippogriff hugs are the best, by the way. The princess is a pretty good hugger too, but she’s had lotsa practice, plus she’s really warm. I’m not sure about zebra hugs,” he says, turning to avoid the doctor’s gaze.

“Until proven otherwise I suppose I’ll just have to assume they’re nowhere near as good as griffon hugs. A shame I have no way of knowing,” he sadly finishes, finally turning to look up at the amused doctor. “So, who’s next?”

A green hoof settles lightly on the colt’s withers as he steps out of the room. He looks up to meet Dr. Care’s concerned eyes as she softly asks, “How are ya holding up?”

“Gonna be honest here… that was a lot rougher than I’d expected from what ya said.” As the two start down the hallway he continues, “Ya know, I’ve heard maker-knows-how-many jokes or whatever about poop, pooping, or what have you, but actually seein somepony that’s had to live with incontinence for a decade? It kinda saps all the funny away.”

Sighing wearily, the mare can only nod in agreement. “Well at least he’s all fixed up now. The therapy suggestion was probably a good idea.”

“Yeah. I’m kinda surprised the dude was able to power through the anxiety enough to come, given the crowds. Next patient is in two-oh-four?”

“Mmhmm. Then you are taking a break before getting started on the mob out front. They’ve whittled it down quite a bit, so it won’t be too bad. Word is only a few are somewhat urgent, and anypony that you're not seeing is being helped by the staff.” As the pair approach the door Dr. Care calls for Cure to wait a minute. “This one isn’t gonna be any easier.”

He turns and gives her his full attention as the three guards stop a respectful distance behind. She dips her muzzle to speak quietly by his ear, pausing and giving a grateful nod when he activates a Sound Bubble. “She’s twenty years old. She was in a fire when she was a foal… they got her out, but not before she got burned pretty badly.”

Cure does his best to suppress his wince. “Maker above, doc…” he counts off, tapping a hoof on the floor with each patient, “a stroke patient and his hysterical wife, a walkin heart attack, a blind foal, a dude with… what’d you call it?”

“Shaking palsy.”

“Right. That horror show,” he nods with a shudder. “And now a friggin burn victim? Yer not exactly easing me into it are ya? I’d make a quip about a trial by fire, but now I feel like a prick for even thinkin it!”

She sighs, laying on her barrel and gently wraps her forelegs around the foal. “It’s not an easy job, Cure. Being who you are and having the ability you do… you’re gonna see more awful things in an average day than most doctors see in weeks. For a while, at least.” She nuzzles into his mane behind his horn, reassuring him, “It’ll get better at some point, okay?”

“Yeah…” he sighs, leaning into the embrace. “I hope so. I can deal, but damn. Thank the stars it was me and not somepony else that ended up with this. Most foals -”

“We know you’re not ‘most foals,’ Cure. We wouldn’t have agreed to this much if we didn’t know you’re strong enough. You proved that and then some back in January, not to mention when you earned these,” she says, carefully poking at his wing. “If it gets to be too much, say the word. We’ll dial it back a little until you’re more comfortable.”

He nods into the side of her neck and lets out another sigh. “Alright, doc. Let’s get this pony taken care of.”

Monday, July 13th, 909 AB (Approx 5 hours later)
Above Lemon Sweet’s Sugar Emporium

“Alright, and here’s the before and after,” he says, projecting an Illusion of the pre and post procedure wings.

The young mare bounces in place, squealing in excitement and clapping her forehooves. Knowing what’s coming, he barely manages to look surprised before she pounces on him and wraps him in a hug. “I can’t wait to see my coltfriend’s face! Look, dam!” she shouts, releasing the disguised alicorn and posing, chest puffed out and wings spread wide.

“They’re absolutely gorgeous, honey!” Cure can’t help but agree. The girl has a beautiful sapphire coat and a brilliant white mane. With her enlarged wingspan and the alternating snow white feathers she’ll be turning heads everywhere she goes.

“I bet the lucky fella won’t know what hit ‘em,” Cure remarks.

The daughter rotates her left wing forward and gently runs a pastern down the inside, marveling at the size, fullness, and eye-catching pattern. Dam is no less awed; she approaches and runs her cheek against the pillowy appendages, gasping at the sensation. “So soft, too! How?!”

“No big secret, there, ma’am. They’re well oiled and preened to, and I mean this literally, perfection.” Nodding to the younger, he adds, “You’ll need to take good care of the lil ladies to keep them looking that way, so no skimping on your wingcare, okay?” The eager girl nods so hard and fast Cure wonders if he’ll have to fix her neck next.

He points a hoof to a bookshelf by his desk and suggests, “You may want to grab a brush set and a few of my oil plant seeds. The brushes are ethically sourced from the softest bunny rabbits this side’a Canterlot.

“The seeds will grow a hardy flowering plant that’s guaranteed to last at least a full season. Carefully cultivated for cooler cloud conditions, they come in a variety of scents and produce an entire month’s worth of oil every few weeks. They won’t seed or spread, but for only thirty bits you’ll get at least six hundred bits worth of oil from the bulbs they produce.”

The pair are quick to peruse the colt’s selection of oils while Wind Shear sits by the window nearly vibrating in excitement. He shoots the filly a wink as he thinks back to that morning.

>>>>> Flashback <<<<<

Monday, June 22nd, 909 AB ( 22 days prior, the morning after returning from Canterlot)
Immediately after breakfast

Assembled in the Dance/Flare living room, everypony gathers to see how Cure makes good on his suggestion from the night before. Rain had to leave for work early, though Cure did note he stuck around last night. Whatever, he figures. Not my business who does what with who. Thunder Dance and Tailwind Flare are on the closest couch while Glacial and Drift watch on from an overhead cloud.

Eager to get started, Wind turns to the colt and asks, “So what’s the plan here?”

“Well, Wind, I wasn’t blowin smoke last night,” he assures her. “You’re already a very attractive filly, but if you’re only worried about rackin up referrals we can make some small changes that are even more eye-catching. Ultimately, what we do is up to you three,” he insists, waving a hoof between the older filly and her parents. “I guess you should discuss what the goal is. You’re already tall for your age… Here’s a long term idea: how tall do you want to end up being?”

“You can make…” Tailwind cuts himself off, dismissing the question with a shake of his head. “Nevermind,” he sighs, rolling his eyes. “Dumb question. Of course you can.”

“Long legs are very popular, honey,” Thunder points out.

“Can you make me taller too?” Drift asks.

“You just started really growing. I’m not gonna make her taller, exactly, but I can keep her, or you eventually, in that growth phase longer and kinda guide it so when you do reach the size you want you don’t have jacked up knees or disproportionately small wings or whatever. Like I said… long term. That’s why I don’t offer it as a service at my job. It’s a lot more complicated for adults, and it’s definitely not a ‘once and done’ kinda procedure.”

“Oh.”

Cure turns back to the off-white filly. “Just tell me what you want. Bigger wings?”

“Yes!”

“Okay. What about your coat? I can brighten it up more like your dam,” he suggests, nodding to the white mare, “or I could go a step further like the prince and princess.”

She scrunches her snout in confusion and says, “But… your coat is kinda golden brown when -”

He holds up a hoof to interrupt, “I meant Prince Blueblood. Him and his son are basically as white as the boss lady. Even whiter than yer parents.”

“I’ve… always liked dam’s coat,” she shyly admits, a confession that gets a proud smile from the mare.

“That’s easy enough. I’ll give you a bit of a coat upgrade, too. That doesn’t change the look much, but it’ll feel softer. You’ll have to let me know if it’s not insulating as well. It shouldn’t be an issue, but…”

“Can you… umm,” she flushes as she rubs a hoof on her chest.

“Add a little extra volume?” he nonchalantly asks.

Her dam poofs hers out, proudly declaring, “Good thinking! Stallions love a soft pillow to rest on, honey.” Tailwind’s face briefly matches his red mane and he quickly turns away. Both fillies perk up and look at their own chests, then each other’s for comparison.

Cure doesn’t particularly care about chests without a nice set of tits on them, but the girls measuring themselves up does draw a glance which is immediately caught by everypony. Drift ekes out a win and her smug look earns her a scowl from the crystal filly.

Wind doesn’t hesitate to pounce, leaning closer and, with a mischievous glint, asks, “Something catch yer eye, colt?”

“No,” he too-quickly answers. Matter-of-factly he explains, “I haven’t had a lot of customers ask for that, that’s all.”

She steps closer and wraps a foreleg around his withers, pulling him into her chest and asks, “What do you think? Would a little more fluff be nice?”

“I mean… it couldn’t hurt,” he mumbles, nuzzling into the warm softness.

“Wind,” her dam calls in a warning tone. She nods to the two fillies staring daggers and chides, “Don’t tease your sister.”

She releases him, but the smug look she has doesn’t subside at all. “What about my mane?”

Cure awkwardly clears his throat and decides to get back on task. “Maybe we could brighten the gold a tad and add some blue -”

“She can’t have blue! Mine’s blue!” Drift shouts, earning herself a poke from Glacial.

“I have more of a claim ta blue than you do!” he argues. “Besides, I was thinkin something lighter with some pink mixed in too… ya know, just some highlights here and there? Or we could try some underlayers of pink and blue mixed in the back? I think that would work. We don’t want to overpower the gold as a base color.”

“That sounds beautiful, honey!”

“This is cow manure!” Drift hisses, whispering in Glacial’s ear, unaware the colt can hear everything. “We’re his fillyfriends and he’s giving her the full works!”

“What’s wrong with you?! He would do the same for us whenever we want! He already told you that!”

The purple filly huffs in annoyance, though Cure notes she doesn’t argue the point further.

“Hmm… I’m not sure about adding a bunch of color to your wings. Maybe we could give it that ‘dipped paint’ look on the ends. A thin strip of gold on each feather would add some nice banding and really highlight the layering.”

The suggestion gets an eager nod from the teen and an agreeing one from her dam.

“Alright, about the only other thing I would suggest, especially for somepony who’s still growing, is some very light snout work. I’ve had lots of young mares ask for a very lightly trimmed down muzzle… somethin about accentuating their femininity or whatever.” He shrugs noncommittally and adds, “It does tend to emphasize the cheeks a bit more and really does draw the eye.”

“It won’t change how she looks too much will it?” Thunder asks.

“No. Here, take a look…” he replies, projecting an Illusion of the filly with all of the changes.

“Sweet Celestia!” the mare gasps.

“We’re not doing anything so drastic that anypony wouldn’t recognize her. You’ll still look like you, just with an emphasis on your more striking facial features, a brighter, more uniform coat, enhanced coloration, wider wingspan, and eventually,” he projects an older version with long, sculpted legs, “you’ll look like this, if you want.”

Wind’s eyes go wide as she analyzes her future self. “Oh my stars, it’s beautiful!”

“You mean you’re beautiful,” he corrects.

“Fucking ridiculous talent,” Drift grouses.

“Oh, honey… forget having your own stallion. They’ll be lining up just to have a shot at you!”

“I… have a bit of a concern,” Tailwind calls out. “The results are, frankly, breathtaking, but I’m a little leery of her flying around Baltimare by herself looking like,” he trails off, waving his hoof at the image.

“I could see that.” Cure only pauses a moment to consider before making his suggestion. “I normally don’t offer these services to the public,” he explains, “but you all are definitely not ‘the public.’ If it’ll help everypony rest easier at night we certainly could look at some skeletal, muscular, and subdermal protection options I have available. I only ask that they be kept in confidence for the time being.

“We don’t have time to do everything before the train gets here and I need to head to the hospital, but when I’m done she’ll be as tough as a dragon and stronger than any pegasus ought’a be. Internal Sending and Teleport crystals are a good idea too, and if you want some more active defensive options… Well, let’s just say nature gives me plenty to choose from.”

>>>>> Flashback End <<<<<

The young mare and her dam finalize their selection and, after paying for the brush set and a four-pack set of seeds, thank both foals profusely before taking off.

“Looks like somepony’s eager for her payday,” Cure observes.

“Damn right! The two appointments today are worth twice what I earned since starting at City Hall!”

“Good. I told you you’re worth way more than five stupid bits an hour. Here,” he says, offering her a silk pouch with her pay. “There’s a few hundreds in there but the rest are smaller denominations. Five hundred bits total,” he declares, smirking when her hoof freezes barely shy of taking the pouch. “I figured I should add a little bonus for your first payday. You always remember your first paycheck, so why not make it an extra special memory?”

The clicking of the coins when he jingles the pouch prompts her to take it. She instantly sits in her haunches and peers inside, not even realizing her raised wings or that her tail is swishing merrily behind her. Knowing what’s coming, Cure doesn’t resist when she bowls him over in a tackle, kissing and nuzzling up his chin as she laughs in unbridled joy.

A loud “Seriously?!” is shouted from the gap in the room’s divider.

Wind halts her assault, quickly leaping off the pinned colt who turns to the annoyed voice. “Hey beautiful! What’s shakin?”

“You can’t have every filly we know, Cure!” Dawn nearly whines.

He hears Sapphire call out in question from behind the divider. “Were they making out?”

“Saph!” is shouted in a scolding voice by her sister.

“It kinda sounded like it,” is Rising’s curious response.

“I wasn’t -”
“She was just -”

Both pause for an instant before he breaks the silence. He rolls to his barrel and stands explaining, “She got her first payout, that’s all. You know how thrilled you were when you sold that first batch of crystals to the guard.”

Dawn pans her stricken look from her coltfriend to the older filly. Wind’s giving her a defiant stare, but the brilliant blush on her cheeks tells her it wasn’t quite that simple. “I just got paid more bits than I’ve ever had, so back off! He’s not only your stallion anyhow.”

“No! Stop!” Cure calls, hopping between the two and holding his hooves out. “We’re not gonna have that stupid thing happen where everypony misunderstands the situation and it escalates out of control! She,” he points to Wind, “was just super excited about getting paid more money than she would make in a month at her other job. You happened to walk in at the perfect time to catch her excitement. It’s like that time at the stupid ice cream parlor!”

“Really?” she hopefully asks.

“Yes!” both exclaim at once.

Unfortunately Wind can’t leave well enough alone. Smirking, she leans over and gives Cure another nuzzle, then turns to walk to the window, brushing his chest with the tip of her tail. Wings spread, she glances outside and calls out, “I’m outta here. Thanks, colt!” then disappears in a flash of light.

“What the… you gave her a Teleport too?!”

“I had to give her something to help keep her safe.” Pointing at the vacated window he adds, “You saw how she looked.” The words no more than leave his mouth before he winces and waves his hooves to clear the air. “You know what I mean! She’s young and attractive and it’s only a matter of time until some creep says or does somethin that’s inappropriate for a foal.”

Coast, Sapphire, Rising, and Ferric all surface and round the divider as he continues, “Look, I would do and have done no less for any of our friends or their families and you know it. She,” he points at the window, “is gussied up and geared out while essentially working for me. I’m responsible for her well being as an employee.”

“Didn’t he buy some expensive gift for your brother too?” Ferric reminds her.

“Yeah,” she begrudgingly admits. “A scroll book and a bunch of crystals and a set of foreleg guards.”

“And he gave us all presents,” Rising reminds her. “That’s just… him,” she offers with a shrug.

“I also gave Solar a full body massage,” he adds, cringing at the memory of his fingers wrapped around the young stallion’s horn. Giggles sound out from the girls as he tells them, “I have to admit, massing another dude’s horn in front of his whole family was a tiny bit awkward. I could have done without all the moaning, too.” The fillies’ somewhat stifled giggling bursts into uncontrollable laughter as they blush at the mental image of Solar moaning in bliss in front of his parents while Cure “massages” his horn.

“Sorry, Cure,” Dawn apologizes, nuzzling against his cheek.

He returns the affection and says, “It’s alright. So, not that I’m not thrilled to see you all, but what brings ya by?”

Ferric walks past the others and wraps Cure up in a hug. “Everypony is saying the hospital was busy. Are you doing okay?”

“It was… emotionally and physically exhausting,” he admits with a sigh. He leans up, brushing the top of his muzzle on her chin and asks, “How ‘bout we see if Heavy and the pegasi want to meet at the parlor and I’ll give y’all the long version.”

“So let me get this straight,” Drift says, “First she hit a seagull.”

“A few of ‘em,” he confirms, scooping another spoonful of caramel-covered vanilla into his maw. “Flew too low over a sleeping flock and spooked ‘em.”

She nods in understanding and continues, “Then, instead of, you know… stopping like anypony with half a brain would -”

“She probably panicked, Drift,” Glacial suggests from her left. “A bunch of birds taking off in your face will do that.”

“Still! Instead of stopping or pulling up -”

“Again, disoriented. She thought she was pulling up.”

Rolling her hoof she continues, “Uh huh. But instead she veered into a streetlight.”

Even the second retelling has everypony wince in sympathy.

“Yep, caught it with her leg. Only one, though, which you would think would be better than hitting it head on, but…”

The purple filly continues the story, saying, “Then she cartwheels into a building -”

“Not even into a flat wall,” Cure sympathizes with a nod.

“Faceplants into that -”

“No, she clipped the corner with her right side.”

“Then crashes face first into a tree,” Drift finishes.

“The asshole tree didn’t even have the decency to hold onto the poor girl. She fell right on her rear.”

“Poor thing,” Glacial sympathizes. “At least she picked the right day to do it.”

“What all did she hurt?” Heavy asks.

“The whole pegasus aura thing protected her from the worst of it. She was absolutely covered in bruises, but only broke some smaller wing bones and tore up her membrane a fair amount. They only brought her by the ICU because I was there.”

“At least the next one wasn’t so bad. They would have been able to fix her heart with my trees, but… ya know… I was right there, so no risky surgery for her. At the doctor’s request I also carved about thirty kilograms of fat off’a the mare.”

“That’s… almost half of what I weigh,” Coast comments.

Cure scoffs, saying, “She had plenty more to spare. I let the doc tactfully tell her if she doesn’t change her diet I’ll see her again in a few years, if she’s lucky.” Cure freezes, looking to his left in shock when Dawn reaches over and steals a bite of his sundae from him. His bottom lip quivers pitifully until she rolls her eyes, scoops up some of hers and holds it in front of him as a peace offering.

“Daddy said you talked to him on the way in this morning. Mrs. Sprinkleshine told him there were hundreds of ponies lined up outside the hospital when she left home.”

“If she works on the weather team then I probably passed her commuting from Baltimare. Between the Guard squads that came to assist and the hospital staff they called in, they said it took about an hour to get everything organized while I was doin the ICU and out of town transfer patients.

“Most of it was simple stuff; a foal with a cough, old injuries that weren’t worth having surgery to fix, even some nutjobs that were perfectly healthy but swore something was wrong with ‘em. One couple brought their freaking cat ‘cause it got sick last night.”

“Poor kitty!” Sapphire shouts. “Tell me you saved her!”

His ears pin back at being called out. “It was fine,” he bashfully admits.

Drift gives him a harsh look and asks, “You took care of their stupid cat when there were hundreds of intelligent creatures in line?!”

“A cat only weighs a few kilograms. They were in and out in thirty seconds. Besides, I wasn’t the one screening patients in line. By the time I got done with the ICU patients and the transfers from other RHAs they sent a bunch of ponies away, put some through the normal channels, or scheduled the few more difficult ones for Wednesday. Nopony with a serious problem was sent away.

“That still left me with thirty patients I had to burn through in three and a half hours so I could get back to see my cosmetic clients in time. I think Wind woulda flown out to Baltimare and dragged me back by my ears if I’d been late.”

“Do you think you’re maybe… doing too much?” Rising hesitantly suggests. “The hospital, your business, making dolls, flight suits, traveling, the restaurant idea, renovating homes, helping with your siblings.” She looks to the other foals to judge their reaction. “It seems like a lot, right?”

“Well -”

“It’s summer, too,” Heavy points out, cutting the alicorn off.

“But look!” he insists, pulling his watch out and projecting the time. “Two o’clock and I’m done for the day. Technically, I’ve been done since like one thirty, and tomorrow I’ll be free from noon on.” The other foals all pause their eating to consider his point, gracing the colt with a mixture of unsure looks. “How many hours are you working a week, Red?”

The filly’s ears pin at being made the center of attention, but she rallies to answer, “Sixteen during the summer months. I’ll be doing eight during winter… two hours after school Tuesday and Thursday and four Saturday mornings.”

“See,” he says, pointing in triumph, “I’m only planning on working nine at the hospital and anywhere from about seven or eight at my business. Most of that other stuff you named doesn’t actually take any time at all, yet. And the traveling is kinda unavoidable, not to mention awesome, so that shouldn’t even count.”

“The traveling is pretty amazing,” Drift instantly agrees.

“Yeah, I still can’t believe we got to stay in the Royal Castle! Twice!” Glacial adds.

Even Coast chimes in in the colt’s defense. “We’ve also all made a lot of bits. The penguin plushies are selling like crazy, by the way.”

“Nice!” the colt cheers. “So yeah, I’m not sayin yer wrong, RP. I’m am busier than a foal my age should be, but look how great everything’s going! That’s not even mentioning the whole cutie mark thing,” he adds while waving between her and Drift. “Have you thought about getting a real… What’s the right term? Teacher? Tutor?”

“Instructor?”

He points his spoon and nods. “Right, that.”

“I figured with the whole cutie mark thing I didn’t need one.”

“Sissy still has to learn to be a blacksmith,” Sapphire points out.

“It’s also about the connections,” Cure suggests. “I didn’t just sit in my house and test the limits of my talent. I reached out to the clinic and the guard. We may never have met the princess if I hadn’t. A good instructor has probably been doing this for a while and is likely to know somepony who can get you real gigs when you’re older. I mean… I assume you want to play professionally someday?”

The wide-eyed, eager nod is plenty answer enough.

“You have to get started somewhere. It’s not like you’ll just sign up for some talent show in a nowhere town and win and all’a the sudden make it big. So, like I said, I’m free the rest of the day. What does everypony want to get into?”

“We could go for a swim at the pond,” Heavy suggests.

Coast speaks up next with an idea. “We could go for a run in the woods. We haven’t done that in a while.”

“We could go to the range and show you all how…” Dawn starts, face falling when realization sets in. “Ahh no, I guess not until you make them staves too.”

“Good thinking. I’ll do that tonight. I do have an insane number of crystals if y’all wanted to fire those off.”

“Didn’t you learn how to throw javelins from that guard in Canterlot?” Glacial asks.

“Lt. Shield, and yes, I did.”

She turns to Dawn and asks, “Is the range only for magic?”

The orange filly cocks her head in thought, then stares off into the distance. A few seconds later she shakes her head no. “Daddy says we can use it for that as long as we’re following the rules and wer’e not in anypony else’s way.”

“Sweet. We can head over to my place and get everything we need from my plant if y’all want.”

Pvt. Bolt watches on in wonder as the dark red, muscular filly lunges forward and launches the javelin like a lightning bolt. It passes through the target just below the snout and buries itself half way into the backstop to the cheering shouts of the other foals. “This some kinda junior guard thing, sarge? We startin that out here too?”

Sgt. Haze slowly shakes his head. “No, private, it is not and we are not. Unless you’d like to volunteer to lead it.”

“I’m good.”

The colt holds a staff up in the air and, inexplicably, it gains a chocolatey aura. The hole in the target closes and the javelin disappears in a flash of light, popping back into existence right in time for the sarge’s filly to catch it.

“Did he just - "

“Yes,” Haze sighs. “He did.”

“Sure. Why not?” the private scoffs. “Nine years old and can cast Teleport runeless. Dunno why he bothers with a staff though.”

Both Sgt. Haze and Pvt Reed turn to the yellow stallion, the former with a look of concern and the latter confusion.

“What’s that mean?” Pvt. Reed asks.

Bolt goes rigid at the reminder of the pegasus mare’s presence. “Nothin. Don’t worry about it. Looks like yer girl’s up next,” Bolt points out, nudging the older stallion with his shoulder.

The three watch as Dawn takes the javelin in her right fetlock and stands at the firing line. Cure’s staff gains the same glow, but no spell is visibly cast. Instead, the three guards watch as his daughter squats into the same pose again and, without releasing the javelin, repeats the movements. It only takes a moment before her motions go from being jerky to a much smoother, more natural movement.

“Wait,” Bolt mumbles. “Is he -”

“Yes. He is.”

The colt and filly exchange a few words and, with a nod, his aura cuts out. Dawn winds up again, this time releasing the javelin at the end of her lunge. It hits the target slightly high, impaling a couple hooves into the board before it comes to a stop.

Reed whistles in appreciation, “Wow, sarge! I didn’t know yer filly was such a hardflank, too. When did she start learning the javelin of all things?”

“To my knowledge… never.” Sighing a second time in only a few moments, Haze watches as the platinum filly steps up next. Once again, the scene repeats itself with the pegasus going through the motions a couple times before launching her throw, this time going wide resulting in a pout from the girl and some mocking calls from Thunder’s daughter.

“Well… I’m satisfied they’ll be alright,” he says, turning and marching back towards town.

Bolt turns and canters to catch up to his superior, asking, “Sarge? You sure we should be ignorin that? Last I checked that kinda thing is super -”

“Ingenious. An innovative way to guide other foals through the proper technique,” Haze says overtop the private’s observation. “And yes. We are absolutely going to ignore anything you think you may have seen.” The stallion looks to his right and meets Pvt. Reed’s eyes as he explains, “Should you witness that group of foals doing anything you are concerned about, bring it to Sgt. Bulwark, Sgt. Song, or myself and, otherwise, tell no other soul.”

“Sir?”

“Ehh… you should probably listen to the sarge here, Reed. The blue colt?” He pauses for her to nod. “He’s the one what was helpin us get ready for the squads competition. Got a business downtown bringin ponies in from all over. Canterlot, Fillydelphia, you name it. Colt’s got connections like you wouldn’t believe. If he ain’t hurtin nopony, prolly best just to let ‘em be.”

Author's Note

Okay, so I normally avoid doing flashbacks. I've said this before and I'll say it again. They're jarring and, especially in a story like this where there's actual dates, can be confusing.

I hope this one wasn't too bad. Everyone was wondering what Cure did with Wind the morning after he got back from Canterlot and I figured a small scene where the family sorts that out would be a good idea, so ... there ya have it.

So to summarize:
Chapter takes place on 7/13. The flashback took place on 6/22, the morning after Chapter 82 ended. Chapter 83 (just for reference) was on 6/28, the Sunday a week after the gang all came back from Canterlot.

A bit of bad news - I've been mostly out of commission the last week or so, so unless the inspiration fairy comes down and makes me her bitch there will not be a chapter next week.

We're also getting closer to the holidays, so keep that in mind. I'll put a schedule out there once I figure out what's going on with RL.

As always, thanks for reading, commenting, rating, etc.

Enjoy!

Chapter 85: Tools for Penetration & Fluid Exchange

Author's Note

So I wasn't going to publish a chapter today and this was going to be part of a longer Chapter 85... buuut, Mondays suck ass, and this is a good enough stand-alone piece that I figured why not?

The rest of 85 (now 86) should be ready next week. I've barely even started on what will be 87, so no promises regarding 11/13.

As always, thanks for reading / rating / commenting. Enjoy!

Chapter 85: Tools for Penetration & Fluid Exchange

Friday, July 24th, 909 AB (11 days later)
Baltimare Hospital, just before noon

“It’s a collar,” Dr. Care flatly observes. “A thick, fleshy collar.”

“And a backpack!” Cure excitedly nods, patting the attached rectangular device. “Sort of. And you’re right, it is a collar, but this is less the ‘Slap it on for a good time’ collar and more the ‘My patient’s vitals are crashing’ collar. See, a few weeks back I went out to the ocean at Mason’s Cove -”

“Right, I saw the pictures in the paper.” She chuckles lightly and adds, “The ones comparing your escort to a duck were funny.”

“Heh… yeah, I hope she’s not gettin harassed too much for that. Anywho, one of the things I was lookin for in the ocean are the plankton that convert carbon dioxide into oxygen. This baby,” he pats the backpack, “is a fully enclosed cardiopulmonary system complete with its own internal rebreather. All you do is take this lil fella,” he starts, unclasping the collar and wrapping it around his own neck, “slap it on the patient, then hit the activate button. Got yer stethoscope, doc?”

“Always,” she answers with a nod.

“Cool. Come take a listen,” he says in invitation, patting his chest.

Though a little leery of what the colt has in mind, the doctor doesn’t hesitate to stand and walk around the table, donning her stethoscope as she does.

Cure had told her he was working on a couple new inventions to help out when he is not available, or for other regions that don’t happen to have a walking magical hospital in colt form on hoof. The first, his collar, is a half-hoof thick green strap that he has wrapped around his neck. It looks long enough to fit around even a large earth pony’s neck, but on the small colt the excess simply dangles off the one side all the way down to the booster he’s sitting on.

Two thick tubes attach to the dangling end of the collar and lead back to the pack which is also colored green with the universal medic symbol - the white cross - displayed on two sides. On the top of the unit is a smooth, dark panel that looks like glass. A red-yellow-green scale is displayed, as is a status window reading “Attached - Standby” on it. A large button sits on either side of the panel; a green button with an odd circle and line symbol and a red button opposite it with a white X.

Dr. Care presses the end of the stethoscope to the colt’s chest finding, unsurprisingly, a strong, slow, steady heartbeat. Just as she’s about to question what exactly he’s showing her, that beat suddenly ceases. Panic briefly sets in as she goes wide eyed and looks at the colt in alarm. Holding up a hoof to forestall her worry, he points back at the backpack.

The unit, previously sitting inert, is humming quietly with activity. The readout now shows “Attached - Active” and the red to green scale shows a black box with “99% - 5:26:14” on it, counting down. Curiosity prompts the mare to move the stethoscope to the pack and, as she’d somewhat expected, she hears a steady heartbeat along with the sounds of moving fluid.

“Huh. Little warning next time?” she suggests with a weak scowl.

Smiling sheepishly, Cure bobs his head. “Sorry doc. I was gonna say something but ya stuck yer stethoscope on me before I could and I know how loud it is when somepony talks with that on ‘em.”

“Fair… so what is this, some kind of blood oxygenator?”

“That and more! It’s still a prototype so I need to work out a few things. Like how to ‘feed’ it. It does use solar energy like all my other plants and it has some internal fat stores, but I’ll probably have to make some kind of dock to recharge it since it doesn’t have intake ports for food and water. It’ll last about three hours for most ponies, maybe more like one or two on a large earth pony and, obviously, a fair amount more on a foal.

“It’s also subsidizing any lack of nutrients a typical pony needs and cloning their blood if it detects their blood pressure is way too low, so it does way more than just oxygenate the blood, but those other features will deplete its stores faster. It’s somethin I figured your EMTs can take in the field and slap around somepony to keep ‘em alive long enough to get ‘em back to the hospital where you can fix them proper-like.

“The collar,” he pokes at the unit around his neck, “isn’t just sittin on here. It’s bonded to my skin and linked into my carotids and jugulars. When the shutdown process is initiated it’ll use a small bit of the origin cells to patch the holes before detaching. Ya gotta hold the red X button for five seconds for it to do that. Just hittin the power button again will put it back into standby mode, and tapping it twice will set it to an ‘auto’ mode that will kick on when it detects the patient’s vitals falling.

“The only downside is that they will leave a patch of bare skin,” he explains, removing the collar to show that his coat was removed on his throat. “That’s kinda by necessity, obviously. Griffon feathers, especially the stems, would get in the way otherwise. I have my doubts this’ll penetrate a dragon’s scales, but with so few of them in Equestria,” he finishes with a shrug.

“Right, a bit unnecessary. Overall it seems like a good idea. I am concerned that it’s a little large for our pegasus EMTs to carry.”

“Lift it,” he suggests, motioning with his snout. “It weighs a lot less than you’d think and will even sit on clouds.”

At his prompting, Dr. Care ignites her horn and lifts the unit, finding it just as the colt had described. “Huh. Good thinkin, colt. How many have you made and when do you think you’ll have the… dock, you said?”

“Yep! I’ve only made two of these units so far. I should have a dock of some kind ready by Monday. I’ll probably set that up to run the usual sterilization process that y’all do for medical equipment when the units are plugged in, that way you can hit it with a quick Cleaning and you’ll know you’re not hookin anypony up to somethin that’ll make ‘em sick.”

“Not bad at all. I’ll have to see how we can go about testing and certifying them, but if they work like I’m sure they do, this’ll save at least a few lives every year.”

“Maybe a few more for the Baltimare area. As long as you can get one of these on a pony within about five minutes of ‘death’ then I should be able to revive ‘em. I mean, as long as their brain is okay, then why not?”

“Sweet Celestia, colt… that’s insane!”

Cure gives a helpless shrug. “You were there for the near-miscarriage. You saw what I can do.”

“True… true. Do you have a written up brief on these ready?”

Cure digs into his bag again, pulling out a few sheets of paper. “You bet. Here ya go, doc. I’ll hafta update it once I get the dock set up, but that should just be a couple extra pages and I don’t expect it’ll be that complicated.”

“Fantastic! Now… you said you had a second invention?”

“Yep! That’s in OR three but it’s a heck of a lot more complex than this little guy.”

“Great!” She motions to the door as she calls, “Let’s go check it out. Gotta admit, I’m pretty excited!”

“Should I just leave this here?” he asks, waving at his creation on the table.

“Yep. I’ll have Facilities come pick it up.” She pushes the door open and motions for him to lead the way. “After you, your highness.”

Cure rolls his eyes as he hops down off his booster and trots past the doctor. The three guards from Meadow form up behind them as they make their way through the halls.

“So, colt, got any plans tonight?”

“You bet, doc! Once I get done with my business appointments I’m meetin up with a couple of my fillyfriends for a evenin on the town.”

“Ahh, right… that’s tonight, isn’t it? I think I’ve seen a dozen articles in the papers since you made those reservations. Club Oceano, right?”

“Yup! Gonna get me some clam chowder and a big ‘ol salmon steak.” He punctuates the sentence with an exaggerated lick and smack of his chops. “You ever have seafood, doc?”

“I have,” she confirms. “I had shrimp scampi at a wedding once. Liked it so much I even tried cooking it at home. It stunk up the house something fierce.” The doctor gives Cure a small pout as they round a corner. “I’m officially banned from cooking seafood ever again.”

“Ah… yeah, that’s one of those ‘air the house out’ kinda meals. Lotsa seafood is that way, unfortunately. Shame too ‘cause it’s so friggin good. Ya oughta try bacon sometime, doc. When I was in Canterlot this last time I went to this griffon restaurant,” he pauses at the mare’s quirked brow.

“I figure that would have been in the news. Everything you did outside the castle was, after all.”

“I was in disguise as a hippogriff. I think they all knew something was up with me, but nogriff said anything. Anyhow, bacon is where it’s at. I have a plant-based alternative. If you’re interested, I could bring a half kilo on Monday for ya. Not only does it taste awesome but it makes the whole house smell like sweet, delicious bacon when you cook it. That goes for you all as well,” he adds, looking over his guards.

All three look a little unsure at the offer, either because they’re not sold on the whole meat thing or because they’re reluctant to accept a gift from their charge.

“Plant based, sir?”

“You bet, sarge! No pigs required. One hundred percent ethically sourced. As big ‘a fan as I am of the real deal I’m pretty sure I’ve got it beat. And that’s no small boast, either. Being able to literally design the meat to specification has its advantages. Each strip has a thin wrap of fatty goodness around the outside edge, so if you prefer the crispier, meatier part you can cut that off pretty easily. One of my mom’s didn’t care for the chewy fat.

“I think I’m getting close to coming up with a fully ‘plant’ alternative that’ll be a lot healthier, but getting the flavor right without simply adding in the real product is tricky. I guess it’s not a big deal since most ponies have never tried the real thing, but still.”

“You seem unusually fond of meat, sir.”

“Alicorns are omnivores, sarge, just like bat ponies. We get a little of each tribe, it seems. Every tribe can handle a bit of meat without gettin an upset belly, though. Unicorns and earth ponies can only have a few ounces at a time, but pegasi should be fine unless they really go bonkers. You wouldn’t wanna eat that much bacon at once anyhow. Too much salt. Interested?”

“I think I’ll pass.”

Despite Sgt. Blackhoof and the unicorn both declining, the pegasus speaks up. “I wouldn’t mind trying it, sir.”

“Sweet. You in, doc?”

“Sure, why not?”

“Cool.” The group pauses just before the OR doors. “Now, doc, before we head in I am gonna give you a little heads up here, alright?”

“Ohhh…kay?”

“The creation I set up in here is… out there. Most ponies would probably freak out just seeing it, and I totally get that. To be fair, I think most ponies would probably freak out if they had a candid glimpse of what goes on in a real surgery anyhow.”

The doctor nods in agreement. Most surgeries are, by their nature, a rather brutal affair. His escort takes up their station outside as Dr. Care follows the colt into the OR and freezes at what she sees. The object arranged over the operating table is unlike anything she has ever seen, and she can’t help but feel like it’s going to reach out and grab her at any second.

The plant, because that must be what this is given the source, is almost like a scaffolding arched over the surgical bed, not unlike an archway trellis in a fancy garden. Dozens of vines or tendrils line the inside of the structure, many of them tipped in a living approximation of a common surgical implement. Several more have either no discernable instrument attached or have spigot-like openings that Dr. Care can’t fathom the use of.

The unit continues underneath as well with a semi-flat base extending nearly to the closest end of the bed. A dozen larger, thicker vines are coiled underneath the unit, hopefully to manipulate the patient’s position, not capture unwitting prey. A quick exam shows no visible mouths or teeth, much to the doctor’s relief.

Cure gives the mare a knowing look, saying, “Yeah, that’s why I warned ya. May I introduce you to the Variable Instrument Neurolink-Enhanced Surgical Suite.”

“VINESS?” she deadpans.

Cure studiously avoids her look and stoically insists, “Coincidence, I assure you.”

“Uh huh. So… how’s this work?”

“I’m happy to demonstrate!” the colt chirps, trotting up to the left side of the device. He grabs a thick cord of some sort with a square patch on the end of it and, after pausing to uncover the area, presses it into his withers. Dr. Care inhales sharply when the entire contraption comes alive, revealing far more tendrils than the few dozen that were initially visible.

“So when you press this puppy,” he waves at his withers, “into yer withers it sends a couple hundred nanothread connections down into your spinal column and hooks right into your central nervous system. You would think that would be very overwhelming, and you would normally be right.

“This isn’t my first time developing a neural interface, though, so instead of your brain having to do all the heavy lifting of coordinating all these guys,” dozens of tendrils wave in unison to the doctor, making it a real struggle not to dive back out the doors, “most of that is offloaded onto a series of ganglia and supported by, essentially, a fake cerebellum that would put what we have in our noggins to shame.”

“This thing has a brain?!” she shouts in alarm.

“No!” he instantly denies. “It has organs that do the same thing that parts of our brains do. There are no actual brains in here at all.” The colt goes still and makes a face as Dr. Care quietly snickers. “In the plant, I mean.” She laughs harder. “Quiet, you!”

“Alright, alright. So… you’re hooked into this thing and, I’m guessing, all those,” she waves a hoof at the array of tendrils before her, “make it so you can… do what, exactly?”

“Lots of things. First, the obvious common tools are all here. Scalpel, forceps, clamps, suction, etcetera, etcetera,” he explains, waving instrument after instrument for the mare to see. “I’ve also got some specialized tools for foalbirth here,” he adds as an absolutely gargantuan stalk raises up from underneath the base of the bed, easily as big around as her neck.

Dr. Care eyes the limb with no small amount of concern. “Uhh… I’m a little scared to ask how that works, exactly.”

Obviously incredibly proud of his invention, the colt positively beams as he explains, “See, if this were a birthing table you’d have the patient get into position just like normal, then this little fella,” the stalk waves to her with a surprising amount of dexterity, “attaches right to the vaginal opening. On a bed like this I guess you could just use these puppies,” the larger vines under the bed reach up on either side like a kraken entombing a ship, “to position the dam as needed or just help her be comfortable.”

Dr. Care has an inordinately difficult time imagining those making anypony feel comfortable in the slightest, and is more than a little relieved when they retract back under the bed.

“In addition to the standard tools, it can secrete a variety of chemicals to reduce pain, increase dermal elasticity, and encourage dilation! It can even be used internally to create a temporary amniotic sac,” he explains as fleshy bands extend from the outside rim of the end of the tendril and assemble themselves into an oblong sheath, wrapping an imaginary foal in a cocoon. “It can encase the foal or foals, connect to their umbilical cords to supply them with everything just like the placenta, and extract them while protecting them on the way out!” he finishes, bouncing excitedly as the cocoon retracts.

“It’s… uh… a tad large for that particular opening, Cure.”

“That right there is quitter talk, doc,” he instantly responds, waving a scolding hoof. The mare shoots him an annoyed look when he suddenly starts cracking up. “Sorry! I couldn’t help it! It’s fully adjustable!” She watches in shock as the unit thins, much of the mass seemingly shifting under the green exterior, until it’s small enough that even a pegasus or bat could survive it.

“It sounds like it could be useful in the right circumstances,” Dr. Care finally admits. “I’m not so sure many dams would exactly be eager to give that a whirl.”

“Eh, to each their own.” It would be a hit in some cultures, he silently considers. “I figured I would include it just in case. It has a version of something built in that can also be used from the main canopy. These here are what I’m calling the microsurgical tools.”

The doctor’s unease diminishes as the birthing stalk retracts and another tendril extends down from the device. The new limb is as thick as her foreleg with no obvious instruments attached at all.

“It doesn’t look very micro, Cure,” she flatly observes.

“Look closer,” he beckons, waving the appendage in her direction. The way the green snake-like tentacle is motioning to the doctor only serves to increase her wariness, but she dutifully steps closer to take a better look. Extremely fine filaments extend out the end of the arm reminding the mare of a dandelion’s seed bulb, just far longer and mobile.

“Hairs?”

“Sort of. Hair thick microsurgical tools like the neck connector, sort of. This limb can extend them out nearly a meter, so as long as you can get them inside somepony in the general vicinity of the actual surgical site then you oughta be able to do whatever you need.

“So for a tonsillectomy, just cram this fella,” the vine makes an unfortunately awkward thrusting motion, “right in their mouth, then you can use the cutting instruments on here,” he waves it back and forth, eliciting a cringe from the doctor, “to snip them puppies right outta there. There’s origin cell extruders in there, too, so you cut out the crap you don’t need, you patch over the wound, voilà! Quick, pain free, minimally-invasive surgery with vastly reduced recovery time.

“VINESS has a full array of life support capabilities just like my pack I showed you and it can synthesize blood as needed. It will take some getting used to, especially the different visual settings -”

“Wait! This thing has eyes too?”

“Yep! Eyes and bioluminescent emitters. Infrared, visible, ultraviolet, the works. They come in sizes as big as a pony’s,” he explains as an eye stalk swivels and opens up, staring directly at her unblinkingly, “or as small as the ones on the end of the multitool. I can make them smaller, but they’re not very good at that point; you would have to point several at a single object just to make it out.”

The colt pauses, tapping at his chin in thought as he regards the unit. “Maybe I could enhance and adjust the internal visual cortex to resolve multiple images into a coherent whole. I’ll have to experiment with that,” he finishes, slowly nodding to himself. He shakes himself free from the thought and continues, “You do need to be careful with the emitters. Ultraviolet in particular is not so awesome for the peepers.”

The eyestalk swivels away from the doctor and looks over the rest of the unit in some approximation of consideration before he adds, “Then again if yer gonna blind somepony there’s not a much better time to do it than when you already have the thing ta fix it on hoof.”

“I’m not so sure that ultraviolet light is very useful in a surgical setting, Cure.”

“I’m not a surgeon, so I figured I’d put everything but the kitchen sink in there and let y’all figure out what ya don’t need. I’ve been working on this fella since I got back from Canterlot. I’d made an offhoof comment about growing scalpels on a tree, then thought, ‘Why not just make a plant just for the surgery by itself?’

“So,” he says, suddenly detaching himself from the unit and holding the connection vine in offering, “wanna try it out?”

Dr. Care gives the hookup an unsure look. On one hoof, the machine has potential to revolutionize the entire field of surgery. On the other, she’s plugging an untested device into her spine; one made by a foal, no less. On the third hoof, he did just demonstrate that it works fine, and on the last hoof… if the thing does fry her brain he’ll probably be able to bring her back good as new.

“Ya know what? Sure. Hook me up.”

The colt nearly lights up in joy as the mare removes her coat and lays on her barrel beside him. “Alright doc, it’ll be a little disorienting at first, but just give it a minute and it’ll all be pretty instinctual.” With little ceremony, the colt brushes her mane aside and sets the pad on her withers.

Disorienting. That’s a word that doesn’t exactly have a scale associated with it, but at the very least she has a pretty good idea of where the upper end of it is now. Fortunately the sensation of the world spiraling and turning inside out a couple times passes before she falls over, even laid on her barrel as she is.

“Fffuck!” she barely manages to slur out.

“Language, doc! Yer killin my innocence over here!”

“Sure, innocence. How’s the second set treatin ya, colt?”

“Floppy and uncomfortable. That’s why I usually leave it at home.”

“Hah! You know I’ve been asked about that a million times, right?”

“I’m not surprised. You okay yet?”

“Yeah… yeah, I think I’m good now. Wow, this is nuts!”

Cure watches on as the plant slowly comes to life. Tendrils unwind from the canopy, various appendages flex and weave, and a variety of light spectrums turn on and off. He reabsorbes his flight suit over his left foreleg and hops up on the bed, holding it under the unit as he calls out, “Move that microsurgical tool over here and take a look.”

“Okay… that’s this one, right?” Several tendrils move, then still and retract until the correct one finally starts descending.

“You got it. Just press it right against my thigh here and you should be able to tell what to use to remove my coat, cut an incision, and insert a viewing stalk. I don’t need anesthesia, but practice how you perform, so use it all anyhow. It won’t work on me, but I can turn off my pain receptors.”

“You sure, colt? I don’t normally cut on ponies that are walking me through the process.”

“I’m sure. Go ahead. You literally can’t hurt me with my own creation, doc.” Cure has to stifle a laugh when, instead of her prone body shrugging, the various tendrils bob in a roughly equivalent motion instead.

“Alright, let me go ahead and… huh. Neat.” The mare pauses when the stalk makes contact with his skin and the microtools penetrate the dermis, affixing themselves to his medial palmar artery. Cure knows a variety of measurements are presenting themselves to the doctor; blood pressure, oxygen levels, heart rate, and temperature are all displayed in her mind’s eye. “Thought of everything, didn’t ya?”

“I tried to think of how I would be able to see without my cheating talent feeding me info. How are the eyestalks workin? Enough lights?”

“Yep. It’s like the best microscope I’ve ever heard of.”

“Technically, it is a microscope.” He cocks his head in thought, idly musing, “Maybe I should make some microscopes while I’m at it. I bet Director Storm’s researchers would be pretty excited about that.”

“Just give ‘em a couple of these things and I bet you won’t see them come outta their labs for a month or two.”

“Probably. Something you may not have considered; if you attach the life support system to yourself after you plug in you could even perform your own surgeries. Not something I’d normally advise, but if you think about it, if the plant is supplying everything to keep you conscious and fully functional, then once you apply the nerve block there’s no reason you couldn’t do whatever you needed. It’s almost a one-pony comprehensive surgical suite.”

“Huh. You’re right; I hadn’t considered that at all. I doubt that would ever be an approved procedure. That sounds like a situation where something's already gone horribly wrong.”

“Yeah, I suppose,” he acknowledges. He watches as the mare plays with the different tools, prodding around inside of his leg. After several minutes of her thoughtful humming and making quiet exclamations of surprise he finally speaks up. “So, doc, what do ya think? Is it a keeper?”

“I think if you put a couple of these in every hospital in the nation you’ll see a massive increase in surgical success rates, eventually. Another one for each university with a medical program, too.

“They’ll probably take years to get approved, assuming everything works as well as you said. The more complex something is, generally, the more testing has to be done. The life support system alone will require extensive testing to be approved. It’ll also take a while to train everypony on them, myself included, but… I don’t know what to say, Cure. Losing a patient on the table, or even after, is the hardest part of this job. This may have almost as big an impact as the Origin Cell Trees.”

“Awesome. So… are there any tools you can think of that I may have missed?”

Chapter 86: Date Night

Something has gone wrong. We don't seem to have an archived copy of that chapter.

Chapter 87: Dear Prince Serpentus

Saturday, July 25th, 909 AB (the next day)
Entirely too Early in the Morning

The two combatants cross the floor in an instant, the sound of wood cracking against steel-like bone and the chaotic flurry of feathered and membranous wings lashing out fiercely for a fraction of a second before they separate.

“Good! One last time!” Song commands, ducking into a pounce to once again launch herself at her pupil.

A grunt of acknowledgement is the only response he gives before throwing himself into another charge.

Cure pulls on the air to adjust his trajectory, coming in to her right high. The bat’s left wing dips, rotating her right up, blade at the ready to intercept. The colt counters, angling his right wing to put himself in a flat spin and bringing his left around to intercept. Song’s eyes widen at the twin set of blades fast approaching. Her right blade is parried wide, spinning her body towards him as hooves clash with hooves, but her left wing is too far out of position to respond when his right scythes through the air, landing a solid blow across her padded ribs.

It’s over in a tenth of a second; the dueling pair’s momentum pulls them past each other, both landing on their hooves, anchoring one and spinning on the other three to whirl around.

Cheers erupt from the audience, the flash of a single camera abating after catching the pivotal moment. The other instructors let it go for a moment before getting the foals back to work putting their gear away.

Student and teacher each raise a wing in salute, then approach for a hoofbump. “Nice move, sir. I’m not sure that’s something anypony else could do.”

Cure sheepishly bobs his head in agreement. “I think you would need the earth pony TK field to wrench yourself upwards and sideways midair without getting your wings out of position at the same time.” His snout wrinkles and he adds, “I’ll try not to cheat like that anymore, sarge. It feels like it kinda defeats the point, ya know? I didn’t hit ya too hard, did I?” he asks, leaning to his right to check her pads.

“No,” she assures him, prodding at her side. “Thank the maker you didn’t put too much behind it.”

“Good. Wouldn’t want to rough up my favorite instructor too much,” he teases.

“Mmhmm. I figure one or two more sessions and I won’t be the instructor. C’mon,” she motions to the equipment rack, “let’s get that stuff off’a us so we can get out of here. Some of us have to work tonight.”

Cure releases the Enlarge, shrinking to his normal size as he follows her. They still insist he wears padding despite knowing that there’s effectively no way for them to harm him. He gets it; nopony wants to risk somehow braining the new prince, no matter how unlikely they think it is and impossible he knows it to be. After all, only a moron would keep their entire brain in one spot, especially the spot literally everycreature knows to aim for.

“You gonna clean up before ya head out?”

“No offense, sarge,” he almost silently replies, panning over the multiple fillies whose ears swiveled their direction, “but if I go in that shower room I’m not sure I’m makin it back out with my innocence intact.”

An undignified snort and halfhearted nod are her initial response. “Well, two things there. First, you’re a tad young, so the worst that would probably happen is you’d have twenty-some-odd fillies happy to help scrub your everything.”

“Not the worst way to go,” he grants.

“The other point is that I don’t think they could actually do anything to you that you didn’t let them. I read the train report, even if it was redacted to near uselessness. If you didn’t hold back, how fast could you incapacitate everypony in this building?”

A quick glance around shows about sixty foals, the number of attendees having swelled since he’d started showing up. That includes a few pegasi, most of whom stop coming once they realize he practiced with adults almost exclusively. Another eighty or so adults line the walls at various heights chatting while their foals get ready to go. Add in the official photographer, the six guards in armor, six more instructors - Song included - and he comes up with a hundred and fifty ponies, give or take.

“Maybe fifteen seconds? I mean, not everypony would pass out instantly, so it’s hard to say.”

“Exactly.” Their conversation comes to an end as they approach the racks. A few quick flashes of his horn has his gear stowed away and one more eliminates any sweat buildup. Like a wet dog, the colt shakes his mane back into position, stretches his wings wide to resettle his feathers, retrieves his regalia from his guards, and stands a few meters to the side of the door.

As has become a bit of a custom, parents and foals approach the colt to help speed their recovery from the exercise or, for many, take advantage of the opportunity to get healed or simply chat with their prince. His weekly sessions are the only convenient opportunity the nocturnal citizens of Baltimare have to see him, so despite it being five in the morning, he dutifully spends an hour fixing up strains, sprains, cuts, colds, and numerous other minor issues before departing.

With the twins cuddled together and snoozing under a wing, Cure watches on, horn at the ready, as his infant sister takes to the air. “Nice job, Savvy! You’re so good at this! Who’s going to be the best little flyer ever?!”

Flopping back to the floor, the little filly excitedly bounces over to her brother with an enthusiastic “Ah! Ah!”

The colt doesn’t hesitate to wrap her up and pull her against his chest. “That’s right! You bet you are! You’re so smart!” he cheers nuzzling into and grooming on her adorable oversized pink ears.

“That right there is downright lethal levels of cute,” Amethyst stage whispers to Lemon. Both mares are laying with their daughters as the pair take turns reading from a starter book. The girls are doing exceedingly well; far better than Cure recalls Alanna doing even when she was a year older. By his reckoning they’re each cognitively about where a six or seven year old human should be.

It’s a point he’s made a thousand times over the last ten months; these ponies don’t have any idea how good they have it thanks to magic, assuming it is the force enhancing the speed with which creatures gain intelligence. It makes him wonder why the top end seems to level out; neither ponies nor any other sentient being he’s encountered seem to be any smarter than most humans Ed associated with.

Then again, Ed actively avoided hanging out with morons; an effort he considers worthwhile even if it did result in a few potential friendships dying an early death. Perhaps the average IQ of ponies is slightly higher than humans. He can’t point to more than a couple foals at school that were legitimately dumb and not just lazy.

Even decades later Ed could recall dozens of schoolmates that couldn’t seem to put one and one together right. Of course, his highschool’s enrollment numbers alone were a significant portion of many Equestrian suburbs’ entire populations, so that may not be a fair comparison.

Her immediate need of sibling slobber satisfied, the little filly writhes free of the colt’s embrace and hops up on a couch, flapping wildly and leaping off, quickly spiraling out of control towards a wall. The soft grip of a telekinetic hand stops her sideways momentum and levels her out, preventing a harmless but unnecessary collision.

“Nice catch, sport,” his sire calls as he trots by to open the front door. “Well lookie here,” he calls, pulling a section of the paper out. “A special edition insert. Dancing on the Bay: Prince Serpentus’ Night on the Town!” he reads aloud.

“You’re not…” Cure sighs, hanging his head. “Of course you’re serious.”

The sound of scampering hooves can be heard up the stairs as Vines comes charging down from their bedroom. Title follows more sedately, and a moment later, all five parents are piled onto a couch with Deed in the center, Amethyst half on top of Vines on his left, and Lemon lying on Title’s withers on the right. The girls, not wanting to be left out, hop on their father’s back to peek around his neck on either side.

Sitting opposite the group, Cure can only see the front and back covers of the special edition insert. The back is a map of the strip in Baltimare with a timeline and smaller pictures of them entering, exiting, or looking in various stores’ windows.

The entire front page is a color-added photo of him and Glacial on one of their attempts to do a more traditional pegasus two-legged dance. He’s somewhat grateful that they used a photo where the pair appear to be pulling it off. He didn’t have any problem dancing like that, but she was struggling with keeping her balance without relying too much on her wings.

One thing in particular bugs him; he can’t figure out how the picture was taken. In order to get that good of a picture, especially with current camera technology, a camerapony would have to have been right there on the ship with them. Granted he was somewhat distracted, but there is no way he would have missed that, especially since the shot was taken when he was facing approximately the direction of the camera.

Two possibilities come to mind: somepony snuck on the ship and stayed invisible all evening, or a unicorn was using a scrying spell of some kind. He’s confident he would have detected somepony attempting the former, either via scent, heat, or even hoofsteps where none should exist. Also, his guards would almost certainly have some kind of invisibility detection method as standard protocol when protecting a royal.

Similarly, he would have expected the sergeant to be capable of detecting an attempt to scry the area. Perhaps he figured that so long as nopony was actively interfering then it wasn’t a big deal. They were, technically, out in public, after all, and the existence of the pictures isn’t a problem in any way. Cure doesn’t particularly care that they exist, but he makes note to talk to Celestia about how to detect and interfere with such things in the future.

“Anything good in there?” he asks the cooing pile of one stallion and six fillies and mares.

“There’s a bunch of very good pictures, honey. Show him that one,” Vines instructs, poking at her husband, “He’d mentioned that would probably show up.” Deed turns the paper around to show the picture of Drift sitting on top of him in the carriage. The caption declares that “Iris” must be the dominant one in the relationship and wonders if she’ll eventually be the prince’s first wife.

“Well at least they had the decency not to make any suggestive comments.”

“I’m sure that’s only due to your age,” Title points out. “If you weren’t both obviously young foals that would have been a whole different story.”

“Yeah. Any good ones at the restaurant? The jerks that floated over us on a cloud were from small time rags, but I wouldn’t be surprised if they sold the pictures to the big names.”

Title shakes her head no, saying, “None from inside or the balcony. At least, not from close up; they must have had somepony on a nearby building or a cloud because there are a few from farther away. Mostly they’re of the carriage pulling up, you being escorted in, then when you left.”

“There’s a statement from the owner of the restaurant,” Vines points out. “Club Oceano was delighted to host his highness and honored that he chose our fine dining establishment for his first romantic outing. He and his party were exemplary guests and we would be thrilled to have them anytime his highness so desires.”

Title continues after his dam. “There’s also some interviews with other customers that were there. They refused to give their names, but a couple complained about not getting an opportunity to talk to you. The paper is quick to stand up for ya, though, pointing out you were there on a private date and shouldn’t have been bothered at all.

“Some bat ponies pointed out how happy they are that his highness has embraced their culture’s omnivorous diet.” She looks away from the paper to glance his way with a smirk. “Between the Junior Guard thing and this I think maybe you’re winning them over even more than the princess.”

“She’d said something similar before,” he comments. “I am kinda surprised the paper is sticking up for me, though. I kinda expected them to be more interested in stirring the pot than taking my side.”

“It’s the Baltimare Sun, champ. I don’t reckon a local paper is gonna want ta do anything ta tick ya off.”

“Don’t nopony wanna get on yer bad side, colt,” Amethyst agrees.

“That’s probably why nopony has revealed your identity yet,” Lemon suggests. “I mean… how hard would it really be for a reporter to figure it out?” she rhetorically asks. “I bet hundreds have a pretty good idea who you are but are too afraid of what’ll happen if they let it slip.”

“There’s a few lines in here about where you bought your flowers,” Title says, pointing to another article. She reads aloud, “Marigold May and Magnolia Sunrise reported that a young colt approximately Prince Serpentus’ age and build entered their store shortly after reports indicate he left the hospital yesterday afternoon. The colt bought two bouquets of daisies for a couple fillies that he said he would be taking out for their first date later that evening.

“In a show of respect for his highness’s privacy they have refused to disclose any details regarding his appearance. The proprietors of M&M’s Finest Floral Arrangements is now offering what they’ve dubbed the ‘Be my Princess’ bouquet; a festive arrangement of daisies perfect for young colts to show their special someponies how much they mean to them.”

“Oh wow… I hadn’t even considered that. How friggin stupid of me!” he exclaims while rubbing at his forehead. “They coulda spilled the beans on the disguise I use everywhere I go. The range, flying the girls around, running chores… I even used that cutie mark in Canterlot!”

“Sounds like ya might owe ‘em a thank you, son.”

“Maybe. But maybe it would be better not to confirm their suspicion.”

“Didn’t you use that when you went to the spa too?” his dam inquires.

“Well, kinda. I didn’t give myself a cutie mark, but I bet the mare that did my grooming would have recognized the rest. She may anyhow just based on the comment about my build. I don’t remember exactly what I told her, but it was something along the lines of having an earth pony grandsire.”

“Eh, it’s probably fine, then,” Title suggests. “In an area like this you wouldn’t be the only thicker pegasus flying around. Summer and Fall will certainly be bigger than their dam.”

“I dunno, ma. I’ve not seen many in Baltimare, and the few I have aren’t muscular, just larger framed. We should probably at least take some precautions.” His eyes drift to Cherry and Lotus who are both looking at the pictures around his sire’s neck. “They need messaging crystals and I need to give them scent markers like I did for Wind. I’ll eventually need to do it for all my friends too.”

“It’s probably not a bad idea,” she agrees, craning her neck to look at the girls. “They won’t have anywhere near enough magic to recharge them, though.”

“Not quickly, no. But if they only Send a few words every hour or two it’ll help start growing their magic and they’ll have ‘em in an emergency.”

“Do it,” Amethyst instantly agrees, climbing off of Vines’ back. “And if anypony ever forces ‘em ta use it…”

“Then my plant could always use more biomass,” Cure growls, earning an approving nod from the purple mare.

“Works for me, champ. We’re gonna have ta get going soon, though,” his sire says, nudging Vines to hop down so he can get up. His dam takes the special edition insert and heads up the stairs with it, he assumes to put it wherever she keeps important things. “Ya ‘bout ready ta head out?”

“Sure am. You two sure you don’t want to come?” he asks, glancing between Lemon and Amethyst as the pair wrangle their daughters back over to their letter book.

“Gotta head in like… now if I want everything ready for the store to open.”

“Me ‘n the girls are gonna come lend a hoof, then I’m meetin up with Daisy and her little ones, probably go to lunch with ‘em later. We’ll see you when ya get back, so don’t go having too much fun.”

“Fun. Yeah,” Cure scoffs. “I put this off any more and grandpa’s gonna send a good squad to abduct me.” Slowly lifting his wings, he takes a moment to levitate his siblings onto his back. Deed is quick to come over and love on the pair as Cure casts a curious look at his sister, asking, “What are we gonna do about her? What do ponies normally do when they have a pegasus foal and no good way to keep ‘em from just zipping off?”

“Make her a harness with a leash attached,” her dam suggests. “That’s what I’ve seen other parents do.”

“Really?” he asks, giving the filly a considering look. “Isn’t that kinda… I dunno… demeaning?” Ed had seen plenty of human parents start doing the same thing towards the end of his life. It struck him as simultaneously brilliant and dehumanizing, both lowering the child to the level of an unruly dog and yet allowing the parent a way to keep the kid nearby instead of having a complete panic attack when they disappeared.

McKynzie had done exactly that to Ed and Cyndi once. Aside from the chicken nugget choking fiasco and the last few days of his life it was probably the most panic-inducing event he’d ever experienced.

The girl was only six at the time and decided to play hide-and-seek in the clothing area of their local Wal-Mart. The utter gut-sinking feeling of having a child disappear on them was indescribable, only made worse by the fact that a particularly sketchy looking guy they’d seen earlier disappeared at the same time. Josh had no idea where she’d gone, and other nearby shoppers gave conflicting answers.

Fortunately the staff, contrary to his expectations for Wal-Mart employees, responded quickly and effectively, calling in a Code Adam. Their Loss Prevention Team Lead had his people start looking at camera footage and determined she hadn’t exited the store. It only took a few minutes for them to find Kynzie’s hiding spot; thankfully locating the girl prior to having to call the police. The only consequences were an extremely stern talking-to for the girl and a very difficult drive home after the spike of adrenaline finally wore off.

Title rolls her eyes, waving at the girl in question. “She’s six months old, honey. I don’t think she’ll be too upset, and I’d rather that then have her try to hop out the train window or something.”

“Fair enough,” he agrees with a shrug, floating the filly closer despite her efforts to go in different directions. With a loop around each foreleg and the creation of a little white half-onesie vest that leaves her wings free, the girl is tethered to her dam and the half-family is ready to head out.

The leash ended up being a godsent. With her newfound mobility and the unending energy that only a foal can possess, the little filly would have otherwise been a nightmare to contain. At his mom’s behest, Cure ended up putting a loop on the other end of the tether to go around Title’s neck. They had originally anchored it to her right foreleg thigh, but it ended up getting wrapped around her neck anyhow thanks to the filly flying circles around the group.

Title got quite a few sympathetic looks from other parents watching as Savvy cackled in glee, flying in circles above the herd like a rotating helicopter blade. She had to sit the girl between her forelegs and hold her in place on the train itself while ignoring the smug, teasing looks and comments Vines sent her way.

Cure still completely disagrees with her dam about the whole wings issue, but knows arguing about it would be pointless and, as far as he’s concerned, disrespectful. She knows his opinion. If the foals want wings or horns when they grow up he’ll happily provide them, but until that day comes the decision about the twins is, as it should be, entirely up to their parents.

The herd is pleasantly surprised to find not only the expected escort, but also a carriage awaiting them when they arrive at the Baltimare station. Arcane Blast and the team that acted as the family’s security squad for their Canterlot trip greet them as they step off the train. Vines and Deed get the twins settled between them on one bench while Cure and Title snuggle on the other.

Title, especially, is thrilled to see the accommodations, even if she wasn’t expecting them. “Seems a little over the top,” she comments. “Not that I’m complaining, mind you, what with little miss can’t-sit-still over here,” she says, nosing at the fidgety filly, “but we’re just going to his office, right?”

“Maybe ‘cause the colt’s a prince now?” his sire wonders aloud.

“It’s probably because of the foals,” Vines points out. “We have two newborns and an infant that we didn’t last time we met. We were also going to his house, not his office.”

“Where is his office anyhow? I know he has a bunch of different businesses, but they can’t all be in one spot.”

“We’re goin to his actual office office, son. Yer great grandsire has separate locations fer each’a his businesses, but he uses a main office fer all’a the… whatta ya call it… administrative stuff. His distilleries and breweries are in the more commercial areas ta the southwest, he’s got some warehouses by tha dock fer his delivery ‘n shippin companies and ta move his booze, then the sanitation facility is further south and to the west ‘a Ferndale, outside ‘a city limits.”

“Ah… he must have all the mail coming there then. Maker above, I wonder how much is waiting…”

“Dunno, champ. Reckon we’ll find out soon enough.”

“True,” he sighs, nodding against his mom’s shoulder. The moment of peace is broken by a pink filly hopping between her sire and his dam, flapping her wings wildly and demanding attention. “Good Lord, mom, what’d you feed the girl this morning? Straight sugar?”

“Shattap, she’s a healthy, energetic filly,” the mare defiantly insists. “There ain’t a thing wrong with having lots of energy. Besides… if she burns it all off before we get started that just means she’ll be easier to manage when we’re busy.”

“Reminds me of a certain colt when he was ‘round that age,” Deed remarks, leaning to brush against his wife. “Remember that time at the grocery store, babe?”

Vines groans, draping her right fetlock over her muzzle to cover her eyes. The blush and heat from embarrassment still shines through her green cheeks. “Send like every Celestia-blessed box on the shelf,” she quietly laments.

“Oh, here we go,” Title snickers.

“Again?” Cure sighs. “I swear I’ve heard it a million times. You,” he points an accusatory hoof at the pair, “are becoming that old, married couple that tells the same stories again and again.”

Deed scoffs and rolls his eyes, arguing, “Quit hyperbolatin, colt. We ain’t told that many ponies.”

Cure and Title share a look, both of them simultaneously repeating the story, matching Deed’s mannerisms as they say, “Barely took mah eyes off’a ‘em a second, next think ya know the colt’s up on tha top shelf!”

Cure does a fake voice for a random mare and turns to Title. “On the top shelf?! How’d he get up there?!”

The mare continues the story, still imitating her husband, “Maker only knows! Climbed up on a barrel at the end of the shelves and hopped up, I reckon.”

“Smartasses,” Deed quietly comments as Vines shakes in laughter beside him.

Still in the unknown mare’s voice, Cure asks, “Well what happened then, stranger?”

“Glad ya asked! The dern colt went tearin down the aisle on up that shelf knockin half’a the boxes off, all the while giggling and squealin like a pig in mud. Finally caught up ta the wife, then hopped down inta the cart usin the bread ta soften his landin. Took half an hour ta clean up and I had smushed toast every mornin fer the next week.”

The pair finish the story with a hoofbump and give the stallion a set of entirely too smug looks.

Deed leans to look out the window, grumbling aloud, “Seems like we oughta be there by now.”

A whine and a soft cry, followed quickly by a second, signal that the twins are ready for their second breakfasts. Vines pulls a feeding mat out of her pack and lays it down, repositioning herself for the foals to nurse.

Curious what her siblings are doing, Savvy climbs up and across Deed to settle on Vines’s side as she turns to feed the two. The filly has learned not to muscle in and take over, but as soon as Golden finishes she’s quick to take her little sister’s spot. She neither acknowledges her dam’s attempts to call her over to feed off of her or the small pout she gets upon ignoring them.

While all of that is happening the colt receives a Sending he hadn’t been expecting.

<< Me, Drift, and the other girls are all meeting at Dawn’s once Ferric gets off work. Did you see the paper? >>

“Ah crap. Glacial just Sent me a message saying all the girls are meeting up at Dawn’s this afternoon.”

<< Yep. My parents and I looked over it this morning. We’re in Baltimare now, headed to meet with my great grandsire about the Prince’s mail situation. Dare I ask what the meeting is about? >>

Cure holds a hoof up to forestall the incoming question from his parents while he awaits her answer.

<< The others just want to know how it went. >>

<< Ah. Good luck. >>

“Apparently the other girls want the down-low on how it all went. I’m sure I’ll hear all about it later.”

“They probably just want to know if you were blowin smoke, babe,” his mom suggests. “The paper makes it sound like everything was perfect, but those two will probably give them a different perspective on the evening.”

“I guess. I mean, there’s no hiding or changing it. Like I said a few times last night… they’ll each have to decide if they want all this for themselves, ‘cause it ain’t always all it’s cracked up ta be.”

He no more than finishes his sentence when the carriage comes to a stop in front of a two story office building. While the parents are packing up the foals Cure pops open the door and hops down, taking in his great grandsire’s main office.

From the looks of it, it had previously only been only one story. The brick making up the top half has slightly more vibrant colors still, not quite as faded as the bottom’s older material. A short, but wide, concrete staircase leads to the doors and a hoof-painted blue sign reading “Brick House Consolidated, Inc.” in large white letters is overhead. A smaller, cursive script reads “Est. 881” in the bottom right corner in yellow.

Once assembled, the family follows Arcane into the office while the others take the carriage around to a back storage lot. A dark red earth pony stallion with a Security hat is sitting behind the reception desk. He glances up from his paper when the door opens, gives the blue unicorn a respectful nod, and looks over the family in curiosity.

“Yo, Beet!” Arcane calls in greeting. “The captain in his office?”

“Nah. Boss’s over in the meeting room down by mail.” He regards the family, noting the solid, muscular frames, including the colt’s. In a teasing tone he says, “Didn’t know we was hirin. Four new members of the security team?”

“HAH! I wish. Nah, cap’s grandson, Clean Deed,” he says, motioning to the much larger stallion as he leads them all to a set of double doors, “and his fam. Got some family business, ya know?”

The guard straightens up a little, nodding in acceptance. He greets everypony with a respectful “sir,” “ma’am,” or “young mister” as the group passes by. They follow Arcane through the doors and down a hallway towards the northeast corner of the building. He pushes a door open and leads them inside what was once a large meeting room.

The room has apparently been repurposed into an extension of the mailroom. A dozen short, but long tables have piles of open mail strewn about. Each one has a designated purpose and they are separated out by date from left to right. A quick glance shows how much volume has picked up over the last two weeks since he started at the hospital. He estimates a solid eighty percent of the mail is dated from 7/13 on.

Brick and Sabre are looking over a clipboard near the front of the room. Cure has to suppress a smirk when he notices them both looking down at the paper, peering over their snouts as if they’re still looking through bifocals. It’s been months since their youth and sight were restored, but after years, if not decades, of doing something a certain way it just takes a while to stop.

“Welcome to your inbox, colt,” his grandsire calls out.

Sabre gives her husband a good natured, but impactful punch at the tease and earns herself a scowl in response. “You don’t need to worry about most of this,” the silver mare tells him as she approaches the group. Brick follows behind her slightly as she reaches them, first wrapping Deed in a hug and kissing each cheek, then the moms. She pauses and coos at the three foals, tilting her head to the side when she notices Savvy’s new limbs.

Her gaze slowly pans to Title, then to Deed and she cocks a brow in question. Arcane Blast takes the opportunity to move a few paces away, standing to the right of the family and well clear of the impending blast zone.

“Somethin wrong grandma?” her sire mischievously asks.

“I… well… that is…” the puzzled mare sputters, looking between the foal and her biological parents. Finally she growls and casts a fierce look at Title. “I was not aware that your family has pegasus blood in it,” she states in a very accusatory tone.

“Oh, it doesn’t. All earth ponies,” Title casually answers, scooping the foal up and nuzzling into her wings. “She musta got that from her sire.”

Sabre’s eyes go wide and her head whips around to glare heatedly at her chuckling husband. “The colt did it, honey,” he explains, waving at the disguised alicorn. “You’ve seen him hide his horn and wings enough times and you know he’s helped more than a few regrow them.”

“Oh,” she softly mumbles as her posture relaxes. “But if she’s not a pegasus -” the sentence stops abruptly when Title lets go of the eager filly and she flaps free, taking to the air and flying loops around the group.

“Pegasus weight reduction and cold mitigation are biological functions. So is the grabby field we have, the sharpening aura griffons have, and the tough, armor-like thing minotaurs get. None of that is metaphysical, so I can reproduce it all.”

“Oh,” she repeats as she watches the filly do helicopter loops around her dam. “And you’re okay with her…” her muzzle scrunches like she’s about to curse, “flying like that?”

“Flying is awesome,” Cure insists.

Title waves at the colt and bobs her head. “He seems to enjoy it enough. Besides, she’s all earth pony… she can just fly, that’s all. No weather or nothin like that.”

“Oh, right… cloud walking,” Cure adds. “She can do that too. Almost forgot. That’s kinda important for the whole blending in thing.”

“Huh. Interesting,” Brick contemplates. “What about horns?”

“Horns are easy. You want a horn, grandpa?” Cure asks, pulling one of his out of his neck sleeve and offering it to the stallion. Arcane takes another half step back. “I have a spare.”

Vines jabs the colt in a haunch, scolding him saying, “Behave. No hoofing body parts to other ponies unless they ask.”

“Fiiine!” he whines, sticking the horn in place on his head. “It works best if I make it out of you anyhow, grandpa. It would take a few weeks before you would be able to properly channel magic through a donor horn. By the way, this is all confidential until the princess says otherwise.”

“Understood.” He turns and waves to the room at large explaining, “The vast majority of the letters here are things we can deal with without your intervention. We have standard replies for almost everything.

“We’ve gotten hundreds of requests for interviews, loads of product endorsement requests,” he waves to a flatbed piled high with toys, exercise equipment, vitamin bottles, and unicorn training gear, “so-called business opportunities, and more requests for you to come help somepony or just attend some kind of function than you would believe.”

“I assume the ponies asking for help are being referred to their RHA, right?”

“Of course. My understanding is that most are asking for you to travel to their city so they don’t have to take a train here. Lazy ingrates,” he grumbles, shaking his head. “I suppose some have legitimate reasons. They can’t miss work easily or something along those lines,” he finishes with a shrug.

Cure points a hoof at an unlabeled, overly laden table in the far corner. “What’s that table have, grandpa?”

“Nothing you need to worry about,” Sabre quickly answers as she steps between him and the table in question.

“Really?” he asks, shifting to his left so he can peek around the mare. “It looks kinda important, grandma.”

“Well it’s not,” she insists, leaning to keep herself between him and it.

“I dunno, grandma. I gotta feelin down in my belly that there’s important letters over there.”

“Your parents can worry about -”

The colt disappears in a flash, reappearing next to the table as the silver mare wheels around. Title snorts in laughter while her husband quietly chuckles. Vines just sighs, watching on as her grandmother squawks in surprise and takes off like a loosed ballista bolt, trying to stop the colt before he can read anything.

Brick watches on in silent shock as the colt levitates a box of correspondence, looks over his withers at the charging mare, then disappears in a flash again, settling onto Deed’s back and plucking out a random letter. Sabre slides to a stop just shy of the table, then turns and shoots a withering glare at her great grandson.

He doesn’t even look up to notice it.

“Sweet Me!” the colt exclaims. “This letter says they’ll give me fifteen thousand smackeroos ta knock up their daughter in a few years!” He grabs another and, eyes darting down the page, shouts, “Twelve grand for this one! Hot damn, I could retire a dozen times over if I just pound out half the girls in this box. Oh hey, here’s one for you, pa!” He turns and lays on his sire’s neck, forelegs wrapped around him in a hug as he levitates the letter where they can both read it.

Title leans over to take a peek, then blows out an impressed whistle. “Six grand for a filly, fifteen for a colt as long as his highness verifies you’re his sire. Not bad for a few minutes’ work, babe.”

“A few minutes my tail,” the stallion scoffs. “Must be thinkin ‘a yerself with that,” he snarks.

“Both of you behave! I swear,” Vines chides.

Brick, Sabre, and Arcane watch on in surprise at the casual discussion of sex in front of the nine year old foal, unsure whether or not they should be mortified. Cure catches their silent exchange and reminds them, “I’ve delivered a couple thousand foals by now. Do you really think I don’t know exactly how they’re made? Besides… Alicorn of Life, ya know? That’s kinda part and parcel to my domain.”

It only takes a second for realization to dawn on Brick. “You did something during the coronation, didn’t you? All those articles…” he trails off, narrowing his eyes.

“Maaaaybe,” he drawls, looking away from the accusatory stare.

Brick’s muzzle scrunches in thought as he asks, “Why in the world would you give yourself a second… Stallion?!” he asks, pausing only a moment to come up with an acceptably inoffensive word for penis.

“Math!” the colt answers with a smirk. “See grandpa, the average earth pony stallion has about three wives. I figured somewhere between six and eight fillies pursuing me and I only recently turned nine! At this rate I’ll need at least one or two more just to keep up!” He pauses a beat. “No pun intended.”

“Cure Wave!” Vines shouts in admonishment. “Too far!” The scold is slightly less effective with half the room’s adults quietly chuckling.

He rounds on the mare and points a hoof, shouting, “That’s what she…” before the glare clues him in to stop before he’s too far behind. “I’ll be good,” he insists, teleporting the box back onto the table and hopping off his sire’s back.

“Tha colt’s had tha talk an’ he’s seen more’n his share’a stuff already,” his sire explains. “Besides, that whole parade prank weren’t even his idea ta begin with.”

Deed, Vines, and Cure all slowly turn their heads in Title’s direction, much to the surprise of both elders. The pink mare makes a noble attempt to look innocent, but soon snorts and begins laughing. “You can’t deny it’s pretty funny.”

“Foals,” Sabre sighs. “So immature.”

“The princess thought it was funny too,” Cure points out in defense of his mom.

“I… could see that,” Brick begrudgingly concedes as Sabre sighs and closes her eyes radiating disappointment. “Enough of that,” he grumbles. “We’ve been replying that his highness is too young for that to be considered at this time, but we have compiled a list of who, where, how much, etcetera. We’ve similarly replied that his highness is not currently seeking the hooves of a suitress at this time.” With an eye roll he adds, “No matter how ‘well bred’ they are.”

“Yes, because an average earth pony foal from Baltimare will only demand the finest of pedigree,” Cure mockingly agrees.

“I have something I want to discuss with you all later that’s somewhat related to that,” the stallion mysteriously replies. “We’ll discuss it upstairs with the attorneys.”

Cure glances up at his parents and finds them equally confused. “Attorneys, grandpa?”

“Later, son.”

“Um. Okay.”

“The thank you’s and other miscellaneous correspondence are in a compressed bag for you to take home,” he says, pointing at a nearby table.

Cure levitates the bag over and puts his hoof inside. He withdrawals a few hoof-written letters with their envelopes stapled on. “I have fan mail?”

“Ya helped who-knows how many mares just in the capital, colt. Of course ya got fan mail.”

“Fixing me up changed my life,” Arcane fervently declares. “If I didn’t know ya I woulda sent ya one myself.”

“Oh. Well, you’re welcome,” he awkwardly replies. He puts the letters back in and passes the bag to his sire. “I wonder if the girls would like to help me look through some of it.”

“I would also like to, honey. There’s way too many to keep, but I wouldn’t mind having some of your first ones for keepsakes.”

“There’s plenty to go around,” Brick says. “There’s also a letter from Marchioness Yorkshire that just came the other day. It wasn’t marked private, but since you were coming out this way we didn’t open it.”

“Were you expecting something, sweetie?”

“I had made an offhoof comment about looking for a good financial planner. Maybe she actually sent me details on who she uses.”

“You’re interested in investing?” Brick asks. “How’d you even learn about that stuff?”

“I’ve always been interested in finding ways to make money work for me as much as I work for it. Pa tried to learn about it back in January, but it wasn’t exactly his cup’a tea.”

“It were interestin, but I didn’t feel it callin ta me like the real estate business does,” the stallion agrees.

“Hrm. Well, that’s in the bag, too.”

“Hey grandpa? I gotta ask… how much is all this,” Cure waves a hoof at the operation, “costing you?”

“Normally it would be about five grand a month in wages and benefits for the staff, plus another six for office space, supplies, return postage, utilities, and so on. The initial setup was a fair amount more, obviously, what with the equipment, sorting bins, and a couple compressed bags for deliveries for your use.”

The colt’s snout wrinkles involuntarily at the expense. He doesn’t doubt that the figures are in line with industry standards; it’s just an outflow he hadn’t considered. “I have enough on me to pay for a couple months, grandpa. Maybe we can set up an account at the bank that I can deposit money into each month to cover all this and get ya reimbursed for anything I’m short.”

“What?!” Sabre shouts, shaking her head no. “You’re not paying for any of this! We’re getting reimbursed for all of it!”

“It’s all official crown business, Cure,” his grandsire explains. “Like I said, normally it would be five grand a month. Her majesty had Countess Evergreen have everything squared away. It all comes out of your expense account.”

“I have an expense account?”

The rejuvenated stallion’s brows furrow as he takes in the confused looks on everypony’s faces. Like it’s the most obvious thing in the world, he slowly nods his head as he answers, “Of course you have an expense account. That’s how stuff like your guard escorts, hospital lunches, and other odds and ends are paid for.”

“Oh. I had absolutely no idea how the whole guard thing worked and I figured the hospital was just feedin me ‘cause I was volunteering.”

“I’m sure they would feed you either way,” Sabre says, “but ultimately the ledgers all need… wait, do you know what a ledger is?”

“Yeah, they,” he jerks his head to his mom and sire, “showed me how to do my books for my business back in November.”

She gives a firm, approving nod and says, “Good. It’s an important skill for everypony to have.” She raises a hoof in a lecturing pose and insists, “Never completely trust your accountant. Double check those numbers at least a few times a year!” She finishes the sentence with another nod and a chop before setting her hoof down.

The mare cocks her head to the side and asks aloud, “What was I saying?” Before anypony can remind her, her eyes open wide and she mumbles, “Oh right. Expense account. Any expenses that you, in your royal duties or, in this case, while ‘working’ as Prince Serpentus, incur are invoiced to the Baltimare Taxes & Revenue Department. They manage the fund and ensure no fraud occurs.”

Brick asks, “If you didn’t know about your expense account, how did you pay for everything last night? Your own money?”

“Of course.”

“Did you keep the receipts?”

“Yeah.”

“Then submit them and get reimbursed from your individual account. That’s where your stipend is going.”

“I get a stipend?!”

“Why wouldn’t you?”

“I’m a workin stallion, grandpa!” Cure growls. “I earn what I spend!”

The stallion hums and nods in approval. “Well, proud as I am to hear that, you do have an account that your stipend is being deposited into. Think of it like your salary for all the extra stuff you have to do because of your position.”

The colt wrinkles his snout again at the idea. “I can’t say I’m fond of the idea of takin taxpayer money to pay for my own purchases. I’ll hafta ask the boss lady ‘bout that when I talk to her tomorrow.” He looks at his parents and asks, “Did y’all know about any of this?”

“None of us would have had any way of knowing, sweetie. The princess certainly never told us anything.”

“Oh.” He takes a moment just to take everything in and, after a few seconds, walks up to his grandsire and nuzzles into the stallion’s chest, careful not to jab him with his horn. “Thanks for taking care of all this for me, grandpa. I honestly have no idea what I’d do without ya.”

A hoof settles on his withers as the distinctly uncomfortable stallion does his best to return the embrace.

After a quick tour of the mail sorting area and a look at the thousands of still unopened letters from the last few days, the family follows the grandparents up to the second floor. At the colt’s request the old warpony let them have a peek at his office; a far more spartan setup than one would expect from the head of a multi-industry conglomerate.

It has all the expected trappings; a nice, but rather plain large desk, a few couches, maps of the Greater Baltimare Area, and a few bookshelves that Cure was particularly interested in. Brick must be particularly proud of his whiskeys; several rows of trophies, ribbons, and plaques decorate the shelves where they’ve won various tasting competitions or recognition from one magazine or another in the city.

A row of accolades from the city show that the stallion’s sanitation business must do bang-up job, too. It stikes Cure as a little odd, in a way, to get recognized for cleaning up trash promptly and efficiently, but in the grand scheme of things he’s aware that the proper execution of that duty is no less important than distilling “The Baltimare Gentlestallion’s #1 Single Malt” for five years running.

Aware that lawyers aren’t cheap, especially if they’re on the clock on a weekend, the impromptu tour is wrapped up rather quickly and everypony follows along to a conference room a couple doors down from the office. As they’re making their way into the room, Cure idly comments, “I feel like I spend an inordinate amount of time in conference rooms these days.”

“Just goes ta show how important ya are, son. Much as I appreciate the maintenance pony fixin the sink when it leaks, I don’t reckon ol’ Monkey Wrench gets called ta meetins much.”

“The dude’s name is Monkey Wrench?!” the colt echoes in disbelief as he hops up on his booster. Brick must have felt that, despite being his grandson, it wouldn’t be proper for a prince of the realm to not be at the head of the table. Cure knows his sire doesn’t care, but he still feels a slight twinge of guilt for, in a way, surpassing the stallion at such a young age. Regardless, there’s outsiders present and they already know his true identity, so the colt is undisguised aside from a few color enhancements he’s grown rather fond of since he’d marched into the throne room with them back at the end of April.

The lack of a crown, peytral, and golden shoes apparently doesn’t change the fact that a genuine alicorn prince is in the room.

The lawyers are seated on his right and, as with the Countess during his meeting with Marquis Merryland, Cure is somewhat surprised to recognize the pair of unicorns. They had visited him shortly before his ascension to take advantage of the spouses discount he offers on deaging treatments for married creatures. The husband, Concise Brief, has nearly identical colors to Cure’s sire. White lines had previously bled into the stallion’s coat and mane, but he looks to be barely half his true age thanks to Cure’s efforts.

Swift Motion sits a seat further down from the colt. It seems like very few ponies Cure comes across have nearly identical colors for their coat, mane, and tail. The mare had one of the brightest purple color schemes going he’d ever seen on a pony. It’s a lovely color, he’ll grant, and Brief will never have a hard time spotting her in a crowd, but it strikes the colt as nearly boring to be all one solid color, even if it is a unique one compared to most.

Neither of the ponies have taken their eyes off of him since he walked through the door. While everypony else is getting situated, he figures if he’s going to be a spectacle he might as well go all out. A flash of his horn has the bag on his sire’s back pop into existence on the table to his left between him and his dam, and, after a withdrawal from his biomass supply under his left wing, he sets a hoof wide ball of tightly wound vines between it and him.

The lawyers’ eyes flick back and forth between the alicorn and the mystery plant, unsure exactly what’s going on. While idly whistling “Hi Ho,” the colt reaches over and unwinds a single vine and crams it into his withers. A thin vine uncoils and begins reaching in the bag, extracting a letter while the end of another stalk blinks open revealing an eye that begins scanning down the page.

The other vines all get to work too, removing and scanning down the pages four or five letters at a time while everypony stares at the display. Vines’ sigh is one of exhaustion, and the mare slowly shakes her head while doing her best to ignore her son’s antics and keep the twins occupied. Title’s whole body is shaking with quiet laughter at the sheer craziness the colt can casually unleash.

“Son,” Brick slowly calls from the opposite end of the table, “what in the flaming pits of Tartarus is that?!”

“This is Audrey Four,” Cure answers, petting the little tentacle horror. “She’s really fast when it comes to reading mail, what with all the extra eyes and stuff.” He gives it a nudge and says, “Wave hi to everypony, Audrey.”

Not pausing its work for even a second, a single eye stalk shifts to the right to peer around the paper it was previously reading. A tentacle reaches around the letter and waves using the last few centimeters of its length, then both retreat back behind the next letter that comes out of the bag. “She’s a little shy,” he lightly comments with a shrug. “Don’t worry about the little lady,” he instructs over top of his mom’s quiet snickers, “she’ll keep to herself.”

“Colt…”

“Yes, father?” he innocently asks.

Deed sighs, shaking his head like his wife. “Just… make sure Audrey doesn’t scamper off.”

“You bet, pa! We wouldn’t want a repeat of the last time, would we?”

Brick turns to his left and shares an utterly baffled look with his wife. The mare shrugs, assuming the plant is some kind of weird pet. He lets out a weary sigh and waves to the two attorneys, both of whom have scooted away from the colt a couple hoofspans. “I want to introduce you all to Mr. Concise Brief and Mrs. Swift Motion. I asked them here to cover a few things.

“The first is your business proposal in Canterlot. Unfortunately, while the lot is still for sale, the accounting office has deemed the project too risky given the… uniqueness of the idea and the logistical challenges involved with its distance from our primary operations,” he explains, waving at the room. “There were also a number of concerns regarding permits and licenses to allow the launching of projectiles off the mountain, even if they are harmless golf balls.” The stallion pauses to draw a long breath and sighs. “Long story short, it’s too risky for the cost, assuming we could even get permission in the first place.”

“That’s a bummer. I can’t say I’m completely surprised, though. It would also be a pretty significant change to the visual aesthetic of the mountain.” He regards the attorneys and looks back to his great grandsire noting, “I’m pretty sure there’s more to it, given present company.”

“Indeed,” the stallion agrees, waving for the attorneys to speak up.

The husband takes it from there. “While the Canterlot market presents a number of issues that are not easily overcome, that doesn’t necessarily mean the idea isn’t potentially profitable in more nearby areas. Specifically, we’ve identified several available commercial lots of adequate size in Fillydelphia where our marketing teams believe sufficient demand for such an entertainment venue exists.”

Swift nods and cuts in, explaining, “The rail line that is being added between here and Fillydelphia should be up and running by next spring. That will eliminate many of the challenges we would face ensuring that a remote location is adequately stocked, and would turn what is now a six or seven hour train ride into a short, hour or less trip. That will ease every facet of the project aside from initial construction, which should not be significant regardless of the, admittedly, somewhat vague plans that have been put forth.”

“We haven’t hired an architect yet, is what she means,” Sabre explains. “It shouldn’t be hard to find somepony to put together some plans, but until we figured out if it even could be feasible we held off on committing a lot of resources to it.”

Cure bobs his head in a nod, saying, “That’s completely logical. I have some ideas, but I obviously don’t know what kind of volume to expect, so scaling will be the main issue.” He pauses and looks at the plant on his left. “Sorry, sweetie, you’ll have to get to those later,” he gently explains. Several of the eyestalks sag in dismay at the dismissal, but the plant dutifully deposits the letters it was working on back in the bag before coiling itself back into a ball.

He tucks Audrey IV back under his left wing and pulls out a fat stack of papers out from under his right. The move gets more curious looks from everypony, including Concise Brief, who had leaned slightly to his left to try to see what all the colt had underneath there. “If you gaze into the abyss, Mr. Brief,” he softly whispers, trailing off. Cure’s unaware of an equivalent saying here, but the unsubtle warning not to try to peek under the alicorn’s wing still causes the unicorn to sit back up ramrod straight.

He floats a collated and bound packet to each adult with some concept drawings of the grounds he envisioned, mostly duplicated from Ed’s memories of Top Golf with some ideas he stole from other popular adult hangouts.

Several minutes of silence pass as everypony looks over the brief, the whole time Cure sits there and watches everypony’s reaction with smug satisfaction. His parents are almost completely unfazed, but the unicorns and his grandparents pause on every page to share looks of disbelief at the detail and quality of the renders as well as the ideas they likely hadn’t considered.

“This… is not at all what I expected,” Brick solemnly admits. “I’ve certainly never seen a gift shop like this.”

“It’s all about merchandising and growing brand strength, grandpa. Just imagine everything that’s even slightly related to booze, golf, or any of your brands. Shot glasses, snifters, mugs, hats, visors, golf bags, balls, old whiskey barrels reshaped into end tables or other furniture, seasonal merchandise like Brick House Distillery Gift Boxes to warm somepony up for the holidays. You name it, ponies will buy it, and when other ponies see the brand more and more, they’ll get curious and come check the place out themselves.

“The rest of that is just some mock-up ideas I put together. Call it a vision, if you will. The driving ranges can be split so there’s one for serious golfers, then one for ponies out to have a good time. Flags and distance markers on one side and funny, silly, or seasonally appropriate ones on the other. The Running of the Leaves is a few months away; set up wooden trees with big leaves that have different point values for ponies to knock off the branch, then at the end of the night whoever has the high score gets a limited edition gift basket or something. You get the idea,” he finishes with a shrug.

“Not exactly the idle doodlings of a normal foal,” Brick comments. “I guess they wouldn’t be, though. Well…” he sighs, looking at the packet in contemplation. “That’s certainly more fleshed out than anything we have. I’m sure the development team and architects will appreciate having something more solid to start with.”

“Absolutely,” Swift agrees. She looks between Brick at one end of the table and the alicorn of at the other and says, “Now, in regards to the technicalities of developing this idea…”

“Do you plan on selling stock to cover the initial expenses?” Cure asks his great grandsire.

“No. While it is incorporated, I am the only shareholder of Brick House Consolidated.”

“So you’re proposing a partnership or something?”

“Exactly.”

“Silent on my part?”

A brief look of surprise crosses his grandsire’s face. “Given your age, I’d assume.”

“That works better for me. What would the buy-in be?”

The parents look back and forth between the colt and the stallion like they’re at a tennis match.

“Variable up to forty nine percent. It depends on how much you would like to invest in the idea.”

“Have you been able to estimate startup costs?”

All heads swivel to the pair of attorneys. Concise Brief takes a second to realize even his wife is looking at him for an answer. “Um… there’s a few lots we’ve identified; accounting for location, size, and so forth, the land itself shouldn’t be more than seventy thousand. It’s too early to accurately estimate construction costs, but I would guess between a quarter million and four hundred thousand depending on size and amenities.

“Add another hundred grand for permits, licenses, advertising, equipment, supplies, and initial staffing expenses… I suppose it would be safe to say somewhere around six hundred thousand bits. We’ll have a more accurate figure once we have actual blueprints drawn up and can get a better feel for the overall build cost.”

Vines’ jaw nearly lands on the table. Cure can sympathize; for a mare that grew up on a farm and has had little exposure to big financial decisions, the numbers they’re discussing surely seem unfathomably high. Simply having a few thousand bits in savings at the end of the month was an accomplishment to be proud of a year ago, and now she’s sitting at the table listening as her son and grandfather are discussing a half to three quarter million bit project.

“Damn. That’s… Well, honestly, that isn’t terribly far off from what I guestimated. I only have about a hundred and seventy grand liquid right now. What’s the deadline here?”

“You have how much?!” Sabre squawks.

“Umm… one hundred and seventy thousand bits, which doesn’t include the nearly forty fucking grand,” he snarls before visibly calming, “set aside for last quarter’s taxes.”

“CURE! LANGUAGE!”

“Sorry, dam. But c’mon! Taxes!” he whines.

“Maker above,” his sire groans under his breath.

“Taxes aren’t my field,” Swift hesitantly speaks up, “but as a prince does his highness even have to pay taxes what with the whole… being royalty?”

“Stars and sun, please don’t,” Title pleads.

“Yes,” Cure venomously spits. “Trust me, I already barked up that tree plenty. I am getting a ‘credit’ of a sorts for all the medical inventions and improved crops I’ve provided, so effective the beginning of this month I should be good to go on that front, but I still owe for second quarter. That’s why I said a partnership is better than a stock purchase for my purposes.”

“Oh. It’s very unusual for a foal to be aware of corporate tax law,” she observes.

“So I’ve been told. Anyhow, deadline. When are we looking at, here?”

Brick explains, “At this point we’re looking at starting to build the day after Wrap Up next year with an optimistic open date somewhere in late July, early August.”

“Sounds good. I can commit up to forty grand by the end of the month. When can we get some hard numbers?” he asks, turning to the attorneys.

“The end of August?” Concise suggests, turning to his wife for assurance.

“Early September at the latest,” she agrees.

“Oof. That’s cutting it a little close.”

“I wasn’t expecting you to put in that much, son,” Brick explains.

“We knew you were doing well. We had no idea you’d made that much,” Sabre agreeingly adds.

“I can afford it,” Cure answers. “My earnings will only go up. Also, I had previously floated an idea of arranging trips to other cities to make some extra cash.” Cure turns to look at his parents and continues, “I may speak to Snowstorm about hitting Fillydelphia and Manehattan for weekend trips exclusively for deaging and other big ticket services.”

“Snowstorm?” Deed questions.

“She doesn’t work, so she may be more available. I don’t know what Rain’s schedule is like. I guess I could check with Thunder and Tailwind… maybe even Song. I dunno. I figured you would want me to have an adult with me, just in case, and being pegasi and whatnot…”

“Ah, gotcha. Fly up, pack in the appointments, knock ‘em out, and fly back?”

“Yep. I mean, technically, I could just go by myself, but I figured you wouldn’t be down with that.”

“I have security teams,” Brick points out. “If need be, I’m sure I could find some volunteers to accompany you for some overtime pay on the weekends. I don’t like the idea of you traveling out of town without proper protection, disguised or not.”

“That is a possible solution, grandpa. I think we’ll hash out the details and, if we go that route, I’ll Send you a message. Sound good?”

“Sure. We’ll work on getting the numbers sorted. If you,” he turns to the parents, “would be interested in buying in as well, let me know. I honestly hadn’t expected him to be able to provide so much capital. Or, for that matter, know what in Tartarus he was talking about.” He shakes his head and blows out a sigh. “That brings us to the other major topic I wanted to discuss. Swift?”

“Certainly, sir.” The mare reaches into a saddlebag and pulls out several packets, then passes one to each parent and another to Cure. “With the elevation of your son to the position of Grand Prince, your family has a rather unique opportunity that Mr. Brick has begun preliminary work on.”

“A noble house?” Title voices in question.

“Exactly. Only those with titles of Count, Countess, or higher are permitted to establish a noble house. While mostly ceremonial, it is still considered a great honor to be a member of one. It can help significantly with job opportunities, give foals access to better, more prestigious education opportunities, and has a number of other more unofficial benefits. Members are also far more likely to be elevated to legitimate nobles by their own right as well.”

Her husband steps in seamlessly, adding, “You will find that it would open doors to exclusive organizations, private memberships, or even gated communities that you may otherwise not have been otherwise allowed to purchase property inside of. It’s difficult to quantify the benefits, and many will likely not apply to you, but a noble house remains a noble house in perpetuity unless it is stripped of its status or the last remaining member dies with no heir, an unlikelihood given the amazing young colt who made it all possible.”

Cure voices the immediate question that comes to mind. “Would this all be public record?”

“Yes,” Brick answers, “but there’s not any particular rush here. In fact, it would probably take a few months to get all of the paperwork in order to file, assuming you approve. Even if we started tomorrow I doubt we’d have it ready before winter. I was thinking we may be able to announce it at our family reunion next summer, unless...”

Cure scoffs, nodding along. “I can’t fathom the thin veneer of my false identity lasting that long. Please tell me this isn’t going to be named after me.”

“It could be,” Brick answers. “You are the reason this is possible, after all. You would normally be considered the patriarch of the house, but given your age…” he trails off.

“Dad would act as patriarch in my stead?” The stallion in question goes wide-eyed at the suggestion as almost everypony at the table looks his way. “Is that something you would even want, pa?”

“Actually, your dam would be the acting house matriarch,” Brick corrects.

The mare has a panicked look when all heads turn her direction. “Oh. Oh my! Umm, perhaps somepony else would like to volunteer? Grandpa Brick, this sounds like something you’d be great at.”

“I appreciate that, my dear,” he graciously accepts. “This is an undertaking I am prepared to see through, should you so wish,” he finishes, looking to Cure for approval.

“Sounds good to me, grandpa.” The colt pauses, inclining his head in thought. “Huh. House Vita sounds appropriate, given my domain.”

Sabre chuckles while jabbing a hoof into her husband’s side. At the curious looks she explains, “We’d said the same thing. The old coot thought it’d be presumptuous given you’re the one that made it all possible.”

“Much to my dismay, I don’t think I’ll be lacking in stuff named after me, grandma.”

“I’m sure not,” she easily agrees.

A thought occurs to Cure and he turns to the lawyers to ask, “Just out of curiosity, how’s the whole noble house thing work as far as studding contracts and whatnot?” Both unicorns freeze at the casual mention of studding by a young foal. He gives them a look of pure exasperation, “Come on, really? Downstairs there’s a whole table of letters from ponies offering me hundreds of thousands of bits total to have sex with their -”

“Cure!”

“- daughters.” The colt jumps at his dam’s scold and turns to face her, holding his forelegs out in a helpless shrug. “What?! Is there, or is there not a table downstairs in this very building,” he taps the table for emphasis, “covered in letters offering tens of thousands of bits each for a foal from either me or my sire?”

Vines’ snout scrunches up in frustration, not only at the colt’s bluntness, but also at her wife’s none-too-quiet laughter. That Savvy is following her dam’s example and giggling along isn’t helping, nor is the fact that his statement is one hundred percent accurate.

“You don’t have to say it like that,” she weakly argues.

“It is what it is, dam. I could certainly phrase it a whole lot worse, after all.” Playfully, he asks, “Wanna hear some suggestions?”

“Not if you want to see the outside of our house for the next few weeks.”

Deed lets out a sigh as the two stare each other down.

He isn’t sure why the colt bothers; everypony that knows him also knows he’ll fold long before his dam will. Sometimes he wonders if the brat just instigates arguments with the mare just so he can fold and reassure her that he still sees her as an authority figure, memories, ascension, or otherwise. In fact, unless I’m missin my mark, the colt’ll be throwin in the towel in three, two -

“Fiiine!” he petulantly whines. He turns back to the unicorns and, with a full-bodied roll of his eyes, takes a deep breath, then pauses, furrowing his brow. He turns back to his dam and says, “Ya know, honestly, I can’t think of a much more,” he rolls his hoof, “genteel way of saying it. They are studding contracts,” says, tapping his hooves together on each of the last two words. “That’s exactly what they are. They are literally offering money to sire a foal. That intercourse is involved is kind of a given, ya know? What exactly do you want me to say here instead?”

“If I may?” Swift gently interrupts. Vines nods her assent and Cure gives her a “go-ahead” wave of his wing. “Noble house membership is not conveyed to foals produced from a studding contract unless it is specifically written that the foal be included, such as if an heir is urgently needed. That is something you will have to be aware of and watch for should you decide to participate in those.”

“That applies retroactively?” Sabre asks. Cure hadn’t expected her to chime in with a question, but Brick has been a successful businesspony for years and, objectively, met most of the criteria mares would have wanted in a sire. Then again, she may be referring to other members of the family, including Cure’s actual grandsire that he’s just waiting to find on his doorstep someday; he’s certain that, if not sooner, immediately after his identity is revealed.

“It does,” the mare confirms.

Title speaks up with a question next. “What about his sisters?”

“Cherry and Lotus,” Vines quickly clarifies. “Sisters via marriage.”

“That would be up to you for now and, later, to his highness,” Concise answers while nodding to Cure. “Relatives via blood or marriage to members are in automatically. They would fall into a gray area due to being simultaneously both, yet neither. In those situations, similar to if a member were to adopt a foal, the head of the family can grant membership. Similarly, should reason arise, members can be ejected from the house at the family head’s behest.”

“Unilaterally?” Cure asks.

“Yes. Particularly in this case where not only is your highness the head of the house, but far beyond that, second in line for the throne. His highness’s authority is really only limited by what her majesty sets as its bounds. Publicly, none exist that I am aware of.”

“None exist privately, either.” The grandparents and lawyers both pause a moment to process that assertion. “Which makes the whole needing an executor thing a little ironic, all things considered. Oh well,” he shrugs, “as far as I’m concerned Grandpa can act as executor of the house for as long as he wants. Maker knows I have enough on my plate as it is, and I doubt that’ll decrease at all when I hit majority.”

The stallion puffs his chest out proudly and gives a solemn nod. “I would be honored, son.”

“Great! So… I’m guessing we probably have a few things to sign?” he asks, turning back to the attorneys.

“Only one today,” Swift nods, reaching into her bag again. She passes a form to Vines and explains, “This simply authorizes your grandfather to act on your behalf while we begin the process of gathering the necessary proof. It must be renewed annually, so if we don’t move forward by this time next year we’ll need to do another authorization.”

His dam nods in understanding as she reads down the form, then signs it and slides it back.

“Excellent!” Despite it being the most energetic exclamation Cure’s seen from the older stallion, Brick’s body language is still that of a grumpy old pony. He counts it as a victory that his great grandsire is genuinely smiling for once.

“Seems to me we have reason to celebrate,” Sabre says as she reaches into her bag. She withdraws a Sending crystal and holds it up, suggesting, “How about we see if Lucky and everypony else is free and have ourselves a big family lunch?”

Mid afternoon

Two quick raps and a call of “Knock, knock!” has all ears swiveled in the direction of the front door. Dawn is quick to hop down to let Cure in, greeting him with a warm nuzzle. “Hey everypony,” he calls out as he walks into the living room, “I swung by the mom’s store on the way here. Who wants a candy bar or some sweets?”

He can admit to himself that he feels more than a little guilty when a memory of taking the kids to the farm involuntarily creeps to the forefront of his mind. The way the girls all light up and run over, tails wagging and eyes full of excitement is entirely too similar to how a herd of hungry goats would react when they figured out who in the group was carrying their feed.

His eyes are immediately drawn to the largest of the group, Ferric Shine, with her deep red coat and pitch black mane. “Maker have mercy, Red, have you grown another friggin hoof in the last five days or something?” A hoof is an exaggeration, but she definitely seems taller than last time he’d seen her.

“She’s gonna be taller than our sire,” Sapphire agrees as she grabs a Wonderbar from the bag. She can have them all as far as he’s concerned; even as a pony coconut just about makes him want to gag. Cure isn’t even sure where ponykind gets some of the things they do; coconuts were imported to the US from what he recalls. The same applies to stuff like bananas and pineapples, yet all of that is available at the store somehow.

“I have grown a little,” the bashful girl admits.

“Well make sure you’re eating enough. Celestia knows you’re using the energy, after all.” Snacks divvied up, everypony piles back on the couches. The way they split up makes him feel like he’s almost being forced to pick a favorite. Sapphire and Ferric are on the couch closest to the front of the house. Dawn and Rising take the center with a copy of the insert to the former’s right. The pegasi are leaning against each other on the couch closest to the kitchen.

With no obvious right choice to make, Cure joins the two brightest ladies on the center one, hopping up and laying across Rising’s withers from her left side and shares a quick nuzzle with her and Dawn on her right. “So, y’all got to see a hint of what being involved with ‘Prince Serpentus’ would really be like. I’m guessing Drift and Glacial gave you a more behind-the-scenes picture of the evening?” he asks, glancing meaningfully at the paper.

“We hadn’t really gotten that far,” Glacial tells him. She shares a look with Drift who nods in response to an unasked question. “Having everypony watching everything you do is creepy. It’s a whole lot worse when there’s ponies everywhere with cameras taking pictures of you nonstop. Up ‘till when we left the shopping strip I was worried somepony was going to do something.”

“Even with all the guards?” Cure asks, surprised that she felt that anxious.

“Sort of,” she hesitantly admits. “I don’t know what, it’s just that being surrounded and feeling… trapped like that all evening,” she trails off.

“Oh. Shit, sorry, G, but just so you know, those guards aren’t there for me. They’re there to keep you safe in case I need to act.”

“How does that make any sense?” Rising asks. “Those are Royal Guards.”

“He thinks he’s a hardflank,” Drift teases.

“One of these days, Drift,” he sighs.

The filly scoffs, rolling her eyes at the implied threat.

“He did beat all the foalnappers,” Ferric points out.

“Uh huh. All two of them, probably,” she snarks. “I bet Solar did everything.”

“There were dozens,” Dawn corrects, “and Solar says he didn’t do anything but watch and help. He never had to. Cure took out all but the first group from a train car away.”

“The fuck?” Drift wonders aloud. “How?”

“Remember the vines I put up in the cars?” Everypony nods and voices their acknowledgement. “I can use my talent through them. They never had a chance. That doesn’t matter though. The important thing is that you don’t need to worry about your safety when I’m around. All of those guards are there to get you to safety so I can act without risking hurting anypony, same as with the princess.

“Enough about all that,” he dismisses. Waving at the darker pegasus he asks, “Drift, thoughts? How do you feel about last night?”

“It was frustrating, but still fun. The guards helped, especially once you told them to Stun anypony that went too far,” she answers, unsubtly smirking in the colt’s direction. “The main thing that I didn’t like was having to go through all the extra crap just to go out. If that’s how ponies act when you’re older we’re going everywhere in disguise just so we don’t have to take a stupid carriage or go to some dumb base first.”

“So what you’re saying is that me going around in a disguise, while inconvenient, is much easier than not doing so?” Cure knowingly asks.

Despite the smugness radiating from the colt, Drift can’t deny the point. “I think it would have been a lot less annoying to go out in disguise,” she begrudgingly agrees. “The most fun part was the boat ‘cause nopony was stalking us the whole time. I’m curious how they got those pictures, though.”

“My guess is a scrying spell. I had the same thought. I plan on asking the boss how to jam those when I talk to her tomorrow. She probably has a trinket or two that will do it. If not I can probably put together a set of plates with a privacy spell built in.”

“Good!”

“So,” he starts, panning over the others, “even though the whole point was to show you all how much of a nuisance having a public identity would be, I’m not ignorant of the fact that we,” he motions to the pegasi, “got to go out. Now that you know what to expect, would anypony else like a date with Prince Serpentus?”

The unsure glances and wrinkled snouts on Ferric, Rising, and Dawn show how unsure they are about the suggestion. Sapphire’s expression is different; she looks curiously between the other three as if she isn’t involved in the conversation.

“Saph?” he calls, getting the girl’s attention. “I have to confess, I don’t even know if you’re romantically interested in me at all. I’m not going to be upset if you’re not, I’m just saying I haven’t really caught the signs one way or another.”

Drift barks out a laugh earning a sharp look from Glacial while Dawn leans away to turn and give the colt a disbelieving look. “Seriously?!”

“What?” he innocently asks. “No offense,” he says in the filly’s direction as he looks back to speak to the room at large, “but our interactions are more… fraternal? I guess that would be a good word, rather than romantically inclined.”

“Aww, you’re pretty enough, Cutie Wave, but I’m not really into anypony like that,” the girl confesses.

Ferric reaches over her sister and pulls the smaller girl to her side. “Sissy’s still a little young still,” she insists.

Cure’s immediate reaction is that Sapphire is older than him and the same age as Rising and Dawn, but he knows when to keep his mouth shut, so aside from a momentary look of confusion he doesn’t immediately react. “Oh. I mean, that doesn’t change anything as far as I’m concerned, I just didn’t know where we stood, that’s all.”

“You thought she liked you?” Drift mockingly cackles.

“I didn’t know for sure, Drift, hence the question,” he testily replies.

“He can’t help it,” Rising responds in his defense. “Dam says colts can’t always tell, that’s why mares take care of the relationship stuff.” She lifts her head to give him a reassuring nuzzle on his chin. “Don’t worry about it, Cure. It’s not your fault.”

Somehow the attempt at consoling him feels more condescending, even if he is fine passing the buck on that whole mess.

“Umm… okay. Well, regardless, I’m guessing nopony is overly eager to feature in the next special edition?” When none of them volunteer he nods in understanding. “Can’t blame you. It was too stressful. We could have a lot more fun going out in disguise instead.”

“Daddy said ponies were trying to bribe the guards, you know,” Drift comments. “Some … Well, they didn’t threaten them, exactly, since they’re guards, but tried to intimidate them to get up to see you. The lieutenant had to threaten to arrest a few.”

“I’m not surprised. For whatever reason they think sucking up to me will get them something. Or they think they can somehow take advantage of the naive foal. Who knows?” he finishes with a helpless shrug. “So, speaking of ponies wanting to get a hold of me, I brought a bag of letters to Prince Serpentus that my great grandsire set aside. Dunno if y’all have plans, but if you want we could look at some of ‘em. I’ve only read a few so far. Lots of Thank You’s, some general fan mail from folks, and I even saw at least one askin me to officiate their wedding.”

Author's Note

Okay, so I will definitely be taking a week off, maybe two. I've mentioned a few times over the last several months how IRL crap has been off the hook and I've decided to take everyone's advice and have myself a little breather. I have the next few chapter outlines done, but there's a whole lot of work between here and when they're ready to go.

So, lots going on this chapter. I can't rightly fathom what all kinds of things people, or in this case, ponies, would write to their new prince about. I'm sure it would run the gamut from marriage proposals to... well, probably not death threats given pony society, but strongly worded complaints seems likely. Then again, there's always a nutter or two out there, isn't there? Either way, it's a that I am not sure I've ever seen explored in any other story with an alicorn MC, which is really kind of odd. I would suggest that ponies aren't as inclined to respond with rabid fanaticism when it comes to celebrities, but I'm pretty sure there's plenty of evidence to the contrary there.

It's not a point I want to spend a whole lot of time on, but it's not one that I think should be immediately dismissed either. We'll touch on it here or there, but as with all things this whole Serpentus craze will eventually die out. How long will it take? Sadly, longer than I'm sure Cure would prefer. Even flash-in-a-pan celebrities take at least a few months to slink out of the spotlight, and he'll literally never be able to completely go away.

Oh well, he knew that when he agreed to take the crown. Now he'll just have to find a way to deal with the consequences. See what I did there? I'm so clever!

Anyhow, thanks for reading, as always, and I hope you all enjoy this week's chapter. If I don't pop in beforehand I hope everyone - at least, those celebrating it - has a safe and fun holiday next week.

Later!

Chapter 88: Forever Young

Sunday, July 26th, 909 AB (The next day)

Coat bristling in frustration, the colt stares balefully at the small metal cross as it refuses to smoothly pass through the obstacle. “This thing sucks!”

“Poor colt,” Solar mockingly sympathizes, “He finally finds something he can’t cheat at and look how he loses his temper.”

“Don’t be a brat,” Starlight scolds from atop his withers as she nips at her stallion’s ear. “You’re supposed to be the adult here.”

“You’re fixating on the lead piece,” Dawn points out. “You need to stop relying on your eyes so much and focus on your aura.”

Cure’s snout scrunches in annoyance even though he knows she’s right. Despite working on his horn dexterity nearly every night for a month he’s only managed to add another two pieces in before he completely bombs the attempt.

“Put a blindfold on him,” Solar suggests.

Cure looks to his left, waggling his brows at the stallion. “Kinky,” he silently mouths, earning a disturbed look in return.

“It’s not a bad suggestion,” Starlight agrees, completely missing the byplay. “That’s how my sire taught me and my sister. We didn’t have one of these,” she nods to the obstacle course, “so he had us use playing cards to make houses, then we would go outside and juggle balls between us to get better at catching moving things. Thankfully they were made of foam; I probably would have had a black eye a few times otherwise.”

“Try it,” Dawn insists with a poke. “Close your eyes and relax.” Cure takes a deep breath and blows out an explosive sigh, nodding in acquiescence. “Don’t pick up any pieces yet. Study the course. Plot out exactly where you’re going to move the pieces and how and when they need to rotate.”

The colt focuses on the box in front of him, ignoring everything else. The course is, essentially, a figure-eight with two dozen obstacles; plates with a plus sign removed from the center for his same-shaped pieces to pass through. For extra difficulty, the plates are not all at the same height, so not only do the pieces need to move along the course and be rotated, but they also must be lifted or lowered, all in a smooth motion between the plates.

He spends a minute simply mapping out the location for the plates, envisioning a piece flowing through them seamlessly. With the course plotted out in his mind he levitates a single piece, tightly wrapping his telekinetic grip around the piece to sandwich the flat sides, careful not to let it extend beyond the arms.

Slower than he feels necessary, he moves the piece to the first plate, keeping the mental image of the entire box and the projected path at the forefront of his mind. The first loop is completed perfectly; he easily keeps the single piece in constant motion. A second joins, then a third, then a forth, and finally a fifth; all parading around the loop with seamless synchronicity.

“Good jo-” Solar calls out, wincing at the immediate *clink* from a piece tapping into a plate. “Sorry!” he immediately says when three scowls all aim in his direction.

Cure sighs again as his shoulders sag in disappointment. Dawn rolls slightly to her left, her whole body leaning against him. His right wing lifts and wraps over her back and around her side without a thought. “Well,” he grumbles, “at least it was an improvement. It’s your turn, babe. Show me how it’s done.”

The orange filly gives him a nod and lights her horn. Six of the pieces start moving through the course, easily navigating the maze and gaining speed as she concentrates. Cure looks up to Starlight and says, “So the Mariner was a hit, just like you said.” Dawn huffs in annoyance, still unhappy that she wasn’t able to be his first date. “I wasn’t sure Drift would be down for dancing, but once she saw me ‘n Glacial do a number she damn near tackled us wanting to go next.”

“I saw!” she excitedly exclaims. “The pictures were amazing! I wish I had thought to suggest hiring a photographer; I bet the girls would have loved to have professional pictures taken in those dresses.”

“Yeah, I’ve two minds on that. I’m kinda glad somepony was able to get a few good ones, but also a bit peeved that they so blatantly invaded our privacy to do so. I mean… we were on a boat in the bay far from shore and everypony else. It’s about as private as you can get while still being outside.”

“You are a public icon,” Solar points out. “Or, at least, ‘Prince Serpentus’ is. If you’re outside and not on private property then it’s perfectly legal for somepony to use a spell to look at you. It’s no different than a pegasus sitting on a cloud and watching you. If you were some random foal being followed like that then it would be harassment. That’s not the case for you, though.”

“I know it’s not illegal. It’s just rude as fudge.” He leans over to nuzzle Dawn, whispering, “Nice job, babe!” when she adds a seventh piece in.

“Those ponies have to earn a living too, Cure,” Starlight gently reminds him. “The fully colored collector’s edition of those inserts were selling for ten bits apiece in Baltimare yesterday.” Sheepishly, she adds, “I… actually bought one myself.”

“What?! Why?”

“I don’t get the paper normally,” she answers with a pout. “Besides, it’s not like I was the only one! They were almost sold out when I got mine, and it was only ten o’clock!”

“Unbelievable.”

“You should be thrilled,” Solar argues. “The whole city adores you, Cure. Tartarus… the whole nation does.”

“Wait till they hear what I did now,” he mumbles.

“I’m almost afraid to ask.”

“Well… remember the projects I mentioned back when I told ya about the whole ‘making it so you can definitely have a colt’ thing?”

Solar takes a moment to think back to the conversation. He recalls Cure insisting that Starlight not share anything he told them, but aside from diseases in general there was only one thing he had specifically cited as working on a cure for. Realization dawns on the red stallion and his eyes widen comically; a reaction mirrored on the mare laying across his withers. “No fucking way.”

Dawn stops her exercise and turns to give her brother a questioning look.

“Yyyyeeeepp,” the colt drawls out. “At least in theory. It’ll have to go through the whole testing process, but I’ve already run hundreds of simulations with my plant.”

Solar’s head tilts in confusion as he asks, “How would you simulate that… no, wait, I don’t even care. Have you told the princess?”

“I plan on telling her tonight. Needless to say, don’t tell anypony. Literally nopony else knows. I’m not even sure how to tell ponies something like that, ya know?”

“Apparently by casually blurting it out in an otherwise mundane conversation,” the stallion dryly remarks.

“I prefer to rip the bandage clean off rather than slowly peeling it away.”

Looking a little queasy, Starlight wearily admits, “I feel like I’m going to be sick.”

“Not exactly the reaction I expected,” Cure remarks. “What’s got yer tail in a twist?”

“That’s like… the biggest piece of news ever! Probably even bigger than,” she waves both hooves at him as a whole, “you and the whole being an alicorn thing! It’s going to change everything! EVERY THING!” she more forcefully repeats.

“Eh,” he shrugs, “go big or go home, I always say.”

Dawn looks between the three and demands, “What in the hay are you all talking about?”

Cure waves his wings in circles in the air and, in the best mysterious showpony voice he can conjure, says, “The end of everypony, yet killer of none!”

The filly huffs in annoyance and leans forward to look past him to her brother.

“Aging,” he answers. “He told us he was going to figure out how to stop or ‘cure’ aging.”

“Oh.” She ponders a moment before nodding in approval. “Good job. Now put your wing back. It’s soft and cozy.”

“I know, right?! Wings are like… the bomb-diggity when it comes to hugs. I’ve got a whole scale for it and griffs are right up at the top.”

“Really?”

“Yep. Griffons are the thus far uncontested number one, then the boss lady, then pegasi, ponies and, more than likely, zebras, and most other quadrupedal species are tied for number four, and I suspect dragons are dead last, what with the scales and all. I’m not sure where other creatures fall.

“Avians might be right there with griffs depending on how soft those chest feathers are. Kirin, I suspect, are maybe a tad ahead of unicorns and earth ponies, what with the extra warmth and all and depending on if they have chest scales. Abyssinians could be anywhere on that scale depending on how soft their fur is. Of course, if giant sapient bunnies exist then they could beat everypony out, potentially.”

“What about minotaurs?” Solar teases. “They seemed the huggable sort on the train.”

“Bulls are probably pretty good at giving hugs, what with arms and hands and all. Heifers could possibly be up at the top of the list. I’ll hafta get back to you on that. The whole list is a work in progress.”

Dawn cocks her head to the side in confusion and asks, “Why would heifers be so much better than bulls? They both have arms and hands.”

“Boobs,” he instantly answers. “Heifers have huge, warm, soft pillows built right into the hug zone. You find yourself a heifer with a nice, plush set of milkers and have her give ya a hug right between them puppies and I bet it would ruin hugs from everycreature else for the rest of your life.”

“Poor things,” Starlight sympathizes. “Those have to get in the way all the time. Thank the maker ours aren’t jutting out from our chests like that.”

Cure briefly envisions what a pony would look like with a set of knockers on their chest. While academically interesting to ponder, he quickly comes to the conclusion that it would be really fucking weird and dismisses it out of hoof.

“Ya know, we could test it all out right here and now,” he suggests as he sits up on his haunches. He reaches up with his hooves, grabbing the sides of his snout, and with a sharp twist to the left and an odd “click” sound, detaches the front half of his face. Dawn recoils away and Starlight buries her face in Solar’s mane. Curiosity getting the better of him, the stallion watches in wonder when, instead of some horrific gory mess, the spot where the colt’s muzzle was attached is instead a flat, pitch black layer of an unidentifiable material.

Cure tucks his muzzle under his left wing and withdrawals an ivory white beak, then slaps it in place with a twist to the right, once again clicking into position. The entire swap took less than five seconds. Not being one for half measures, he repeats the performance with his right forehoof, replacing it with a set of dark blue talons, then does his left.

“Do you just keep spare parts on you all the time?!”

The colt gives Solar a perplexed look. “You don’t? That’s really irresponsible of you, Solar.” With a chopping motion he points a talon at his big bro and insists, “You should always be prepared! What the hay is your plan if you wake up one day and yer horn’s gone and you’re sittin there without a spare, huh? Just gonna go around hornless all day?” he asks with a scoff. “Foolish to the extreme, that’s what that is!”

Choosing not to respond to the colt’s ridiculous rant, Solar sighs deeply and rolls his eyes. “You can look,” he tells the girls, “there was nothing to see but a patch of solid black anyhow.”

“This ain’t my first rodeo,” Cure boasts as they timidly peek at the transforming horned hippogriff. “Did you really think I would… I dunno, have some kinda bloody mess hangin out my face?” he asks as his coat transitions to a mixture of fur and feathers. His ears pin flat against his head and seamlessly blend in as feathers grow over top of them and longer feathers grow from above his hooves and talons.

“Sort of?” Starlight bashfully admits as she takes in his new appearance.

Dawn jabs him in his side with her hoof, growling, “We never know with you, dummy! You could have warned us!”

Playfully smiling as much as one can with a beak, he argues, “Yeah, but where’s the fun in that? Now,” he says as he spreads his wings and forelegs wide, “you gonna get a piece of this or what?”

With another annoyed huff the filly sits up and nods.

Cure turns and embraces her from her left side, wrapping his fillyfriend in a warm, all-encompassing hug. With his wings pulling her against his soft chest feathers, he reaches up and gently runs his dulled left talons down the back of her neck through her mane. His right talons carefully run slow circles around her right ear as she melts into the embrace, sighing in contentment. A soft nuzzle of her horn with the side of his beak nearly finishes the filly off, eliciting a happy hum as she grinds her cheek against his flight muscles.

“Wow!” Starlight exclaims, mesmerized by the speed with which the young alicorn subdued the girl.

“Alright, babe, it’s Star’s turn,” he says, prodding the filly with a knuckle. She whines but reluctantly disentangles as the navy mare climbs off her beau. His horn ignites for a split second and, in a flash, an adult sized hippogriff stallion spreads his wings in invitation.

The sight stuns both adult unicorns; gone is the shorter foal and in his place is a tall, muscular stallion with the colt’s immaculately groomed features and enormous, beautiful wings on display. A hint of envy flits through the stallion’s mind only to be immediately quashed and dismissed as ridiculous.

Starlight speechlessly approaches, turning to her right to avoid poking him with her horn. First his left foreleg dips under hers, his thick, powerful muscles effortlessly lifting her front half and pulling her against his chest. His right talons begin slowly petting through her mane, combing down its length to gently massage her scalp and skin. Large wings fold around her, enveloping her in a world of sinful softness, comforting heat, and the sweet smell of freshly baked cookies.

It only takes a few seconds before she is fully laying against him, barely holding back a yawn and nuzzling deeply into his neck. “Oh my stars,” she slurs while brushing her crown against the underside of his beak.

Solar’s discomfort is interrupted when the door swings open to his dam, immediately followed by his sire, strolling in with groceries on their backs. The colt turns his head to the left as the pair enter the living room, headed to the kitchen, and waves his right talons in greeting. Both freeze at the sight of the colt, stunned at the large hippogriff sitting in their living room. With his colors and cutie mark plainly visible it only takes a split second to realize who he is, but his unexpected appearance still stuns them speechless.

“Sweet!” he joyfully calls out, “a larger polling group!” He folds his wings back to reveal the previously obscured and dazed younger mare as he beckons the elder over. “Come get in on this, Mrs. Aura! You two,” he motions between Solar and Haze with a wing, “can go last. Ladies first and all that.”

Trotting up to the princess, Cure rears up to wrap her neck in what’s become their customary greeting. “Howdy, boss. What’s shakin?”

“Good evening, Cure Wave,” she replies as she wraps her wing around him. He settles between her forelegs as she begins, “Quite a fair amount, truth be told. The most important news concerns the samples from the cave.”

Celestia had previously explained that the expedition to the Tree of Harmony had been delayed a week due to an unexpected and particularly violent storm over the Everfree, launching the second week of July instead of the first as was originally planned. Once the storm had cleared up the mission proceeded normally; a platoon of soldiers from Fort McMare, just south of the Detrot, deployed via air transports from the capital on the eighth.

Rather anticlimactically, the cave was found, samples were gathered, and all fifty troops were able to safely withdraw. The only injuries were a twisted fetlock and some bruising that a unicorn suffered when the mare stepped on a slippery patch of moss.

Celestia agreed with and relayed Cure’s suggestion that magic not be used directly during the entire process in case pony magic would somehow light a fuse on any potential traps. Air samples, dirt samples, rock scrapings, moss samples, and tiny cuts off of any vines in the area were gathered and ferried back to McMare for a ten day quarantine and observation, which means that the last week or so is the earliest they are going through legitimate testing.

“I must thank you again for your suggestions regarding quarantine measures. It is quite likely that adherence to them prevented, at the very least, untold number of injuries. A biopsy of one of the vines reacted violently when scanned with unicorn magic. Once the scan started it ballooned in size from barely larger than a kernel of corn to a writhing mass of vines the size of a plum. The entire process took only a few seconds.”

“That sounds bad.”

“Indeed. Fortunately, Dr. Heathland activated the emergency protocols immediately. The sample was incinerated to dust, which was then gathered and placed in warded containment where it has sat for the last three days with no sign of regeneration.”

“Good save, doc,” the colt genuinely cheers. “Any signs of a reaction from the other samples or anything in the cave itself?”

“No. The testing chambers were isolated, both physically and magically, as you suggested. There are additional samples from the vines, but testing will be out on hold for the time being.”

“Was the doctor able to get anything from the scan before the sample went nuts?”

“He was not. He said the results of the scan kept changing even while he was still running it. First it was as if he was scanning himself, then a bowl of oatmeal, and finally a water balloon.”

“Come again?”

“I know,” she sighs. “The spell would not even work on one of those. Clearly Discord’s work in action.”

“Have you considered having non-pony creatures attempt to scan the samples? Maybe griffon, zebra, or minotaur magic has a different flavor, for lack of a better word.”

“Only in passing. I do not believe that to be a feasible option due simply to the fact that anycreature skilled in such magics would either be unavailable, or making them aware of the plunderseeds would be an unacceptably large risk to national security. Though I doubt anycreature could reproduce his work, especially reliably, the risk to ponykind could be immense.”

“We don’t have any that are Equestrian citizens that we can trust?”

“Not with experience in the necessary fields of magic, no. Griffon magic is almost exclusively wind-based, so they lack the capacity for biomancy or chloromancy. Hippogriffs are similar, though they tend to have some proficiency with hydromancy as well. Some zebra shaman are capable of such, but we do not have any with experience. Minotaurs tend to be the most experienced with nature magic, but again, there are none that are Equestrian citizens.

“As you can imagine, specialists in those fields are quite closely monitored. No nation would allow anycreature with those proficiencies to simply take that knowledge and leave. Not without assurances.”

“You don’t say,” he flatly responds.

“Mmhmm. Some are easier to control than others, thankfully. Especially silly little foals,” she innocently comments. When the colt glares up at her chin she rolls slightly to her left and lifts her right forehoof to inspect her golden shoe. “Merely dangle something shiny in front of them,” she says, oscillating it it slowly in front of him, “and, next thing you know, they are doing exactly what you want without even needing to tell them to.” She commiserates with a sigh and refolds her foreleg, “If only it were always so…” she glances down at him and slowly enunciates, “... simple.”

“Think yer reeeeeeeal funny, dontchya?”

“I haven’t the faintest idea what you are talking about, Cure. I was clearly talking about somepony else,” she insists. “Regardless, I do not believe having another creature make an attempt is truly necessary, even if we could find somecreature when the skills that we trust sufficiently. Once the latent magic of the samples is dispersed they should be capable of being scanned like any other plant.”

“You have a way of draining chaos magic?”

“In such small quantities, yes. It will still take a few months before I can be sure it is safe for you to scan the samples, but there is no dire urgency.”

“Huh. I’m surprised you didn’t just have them do that before even making the attempt.”

“With the precautions in place the risk was minimal.”

“If you say so, boss. So I’ll plan to visit Fort McMare sometime early next year?”

“Perhaps sometime after the winter births,” she agrees.

“Works for me. Any idea what the plan is for those? Marchioness Coltifornia’s point about me only helping a few areas is a valid one. I know I can’t do much ‘till I’m older, but…”

“I understand,” she assures him. “A proposal has been put forth to have everymare deemed high enough risk be transported via train to Detrot starting just after New Year’s day. That is several weeks prior to local births starting and, with the staggered due dates, should provide more than sufficient leeway to ensure everymare is able to be seen before labor begins naturally.”

“Why Detrot?”

“Logistics. It is centrally located and is the nexus for the nation’s rail system. There are more hospitals and hotels per capita compared to Canterlot and Fort McMare is nearby to provide guards to ensure everything goes smoothly. Chicoltgo would be a decent option due to the number of hospitals and hotels, but a few factors make it a less optimal choice; colder weather, higher winds, and less convenient rail accessibility in particular.”

“Fair enough. I’ve never actually been to Detrot. I’ve flown past it a couple times, though.”

“Several details need to be worked out before we book your hotel room. I will not allow plans to move forward unless your parents approve.”

“I don’t see them refusing, given the stakes.”

She nods in understanding, saying, “I would not want to presume. If any or all of them wish to accompany you, all of their expenses will be reimbursed as well as any missed wages.”

“I don’t think that’s necessary, boss. We’re not exactly struggling anymore, ya know?”

“It is the very least I can do. I do not need to tell you that no matter the expense, it pales in comparison to the value of the services you are providing. Let me know next week, if you could. There are quite a number of logistical issues that will need to be addressed, so the sooner the better.”

“Sure thing. I’ll talk to them tonight. You know, I could always pop out, ask, and come right back.”

“Next week will suffice, Cure. I do not need an answer right this moment.”

“Alright. On the whole baby-makin subject, how’s the distribution of the gender ratio test kits coming along?”

“Very well. The kits should be sent out to Family Planning and Regional Health Authorities across the nation within the next three weeks. On that note, the … I suppose calling them ‘pups’ is no longer accurate. The mice bred using your trees are now themselves being bred. Assuming their pups have no health defects the first round of equine testing will proceed in September. Thus far Director Storm has indicated there have been no abnormalities at all.”

“Sweet. Can’t say I’ve ever been excited to hear about pregnant mice, but hey… the whole last year has been a round of firsts.”

“Indeed. It has been a very busy year for you, hasn’t it?”

“Yeah, it’s been nuts, but all and all I got no reason to complain. The folks are happy, my friends are doing great, and I’ve been given the opportunity to help more creatures than I ever thought I would. Hay, I even had my first date just the other day! Thanks for the carriage, by the way,” he says, nuzzling into her left knee. “The thing is friggin sweet lookin and both girls loved it.”

Celestia gently squeezes him in a hug between her forelegs. “You are quite welcome, Cure. I am happy to hear you like it.”

“You bet! The thing is pretty sweet. I need to learn what all the controls do. I’m assuming they’re all defensive, right?”

“Not all of them. There are passive defenses built into it, naturally. There are also more active defenses that will seal the doors, cover the windows, and even deploy a very powerful barrier, but there are also controls to alter the carriage’s appearance with Illusions to appear more mundane and to activate the lightening effect for flight.”

Clapping and wiggling with glee, Cure can’t help but shout, “HA! That’s awesome! I have a friggin James Bond carriage! Oh wow, I know you have no idea what that means, but trust me, that’s like… one of the coolest things I’ve ever heard! Can it go underwater too?!”

Celestia genuinely smiles at the colt’s excitefulness. “Indeed it could. It would be difficult to submerge, assuming the cab is sealed, but the need for breathable air aside, there is no reason why it could not. Not that lack of air would be a significant hindrance for you.”

“Not particularly, no. I don’t plan on testing it, was just curious. Now I just need to put headlights on it, then find a way to have them slide out to reveal repeating crossbows. Drift would freakin lose her marbles if I pulled that off. I bet Red could rig something up.”

“Headlights?”

“Think of a lantern sitting in front of a parabolic reflector so that a vehicle operator can see what’s ahead of them in the dark. I guess it would make more sense to slap a few Light crystals on it with their emission set to frontal arcs, but yeah… same end result. The reflectors would be as much to keep the light from blinding the operator as they are to project the light forwards, I suppose.”

“Ah. It does have interior and exterior lighting switches as well. I would recommend speaking with Captain Forward Stance or First Lieutenant Flowing Quill when you have an opportunity to. They should have a copy of the documentation for you to review.”

“Cool. I’m assuming you saw the pictures from Friday night?”

“Yes. I believe the majority of the nation will have seen them by tomorrow morning. The ones of you dancing on the boat were phenomenal, Cure! I’m sure Misty Twilight and Azure Tiara will be quite eager to drag you to their dance school during your next visit. I understand many of the young fillies are quite jealous that they got to dance with Prince Serpentus before anypony else.”

“Ehh… technically, I wasn’t a prince at the time. That was before I got my crown, which I still absolutely love, by the way. The name, the crown, and the carriage. Three for three, boss.” He reaches back and pokes at her chest with his wingtip. “Ya know, for an old timer you actually can be somewhat cool on occasion.”

“I’ll be sure to add ‘Being Cool’ to my list of achievements.”

“Good. You should be proud. Most folks I know lose that ability by about fifty, so holding into it for an extra two thousand years is a monumental accomplishment!” His playful demeanor becomes suddenly more serious as he says, “So yeah, about those pictures… We did not have a camerapony onboard the ship with us, though it was pointed out to me that I probably should have hired one.”

The mare furrows her brow in thought and says, “Presumably you or your guards would have detected a stowaway, invisible or not. Similarly, I have a difficult time believing you, of all ponies, would not notice a hidden camera of some kind. That means they were taken via a telescoping camera or through a remote viewing spell.”

“I don’t think the tech development is far enough along for that good of a picture with a telephoto lens considering the distance to shore. The ship we were on was larger than anything close to us and the angle of the pictures means they were taken from slightly above us. No pegasi, bats, or griffs got close enough either. How difficult is it to detect when somepony is scrying your position?”

“It depends on what method you employ. This variant,” she projects an Illusion of a spell diagram, “of Detect Magic will not only allow you to sense the spell, but also give you a sense for the direction of the caster. It will only work if you cast it when the spell is active.

“Detecting scrying magic passively is much more difficult. When somepony is using a scrying spell it causes a minor disruption to the magic in the area that is being viewed. There is a very slight increase in the pressure, and the direction from which the pressure originates corresponds to the location of the viewing window. This is why unicorn guards are trained to use my sun’s position relative to the viewing target. The flow of thaumic energy is obscured somewhat by the everpresent energy radiating from it.”

“Huh. I’ll have to see if Dawn or Solar can practice with me to see if we can detect it. Wish I’d known earlier; I was hangin out with them most of the afternoon.”

“I would certainly recommend taking advantage of the coming weeks before he departs for the academy. Do not be surprised when they detect the change more quickly than you. Solar Strike, especially, has had years of experience and at least some training on how to detect alterations to local thaumic currents.

“You will have classes at my school dedicated specifically to hone this ability so that you are more aware of nearby magic use. I recommend you spend some time simply meditating while focusing on the flow of magic passing through your surroundings.”

“Ugh… meditation. That’s probably not something I’m gonna be good at.”

“Really?” she asks in feigned surprise. “It is almost as if you are admitting you lack patience. I would have never expected that.”

“I’ve never claimed to be a patient pony.”

“Indeed, however I meant that I am surprised you would admit a shortcoming of any kind.”

The colt rolls his eyes up at the ancient mare. “Somepony is a bit of a comedian today, huh?” He sits up and noses at the underside of her chin. “What’s got Celestia in a good mood today, hmm?”

A wide, genuine smile crosses the mare’s face as her wings dance and booty wiggles in joy. “I took a certain know-it-all’s advice,” she begins. She wraps him in a hug and rolls to her left, coming to a stop laying more on her back than her side. Cure rolls to his belly and rests his chin on her peytral, surprised to see that her horn passes through the cloud-like surface unimpeded.

It occurs to him that with a meter long spike jutting out of her head she probably doesn’t get to lay like this very often. Her hind legs stretch back and do that wobbly kick move before settling into a position that really highlights how enormous the princess truly is. Cure does no more than glance back at the movement before facing her again, but he figures the distance from the tip of her hind hooves to her snout can’t be any less than four meters.

Of course his brain has to make the moment weird by reminding him that his junk is resting on the Godqueen of Equestria’s soft, warm chest.

She looks around conspiratorially, which is odd given that literally nopony else can even be in the astral realm, and leans close to Cure to whisper. “I snuck out of the castle on Friday night,” she excitedly confesses. “I did not do anything so grandiose as you are likely imagining, but I did make my way to a local tavern and enjoyed a few of those delicious fruity drinks. I even got flirted with!” she nearly squeals while giggling.

“Oh! My! Stars!” he exclaims in his best impression of an excited teenage girl, fluttery wings, bouncing booty, and tail wildly dancing on her belly. “You have to tell me EVE! RY! SINGLE! THING! Mare or stallion? Are they cute? Were you Sunny Skies or Light Beam? Did you shake that booty on the dance floor?”

She adorably giggles as she leans back to lay flat, squeezing him in another foreleg hug. Her wings spread and flatten against the clouds as she wiggles with the colt in her embrace. “I went as Sunny. He is a bright yellow pegasus with a fiery red mane and the most gorgeous ruby eyes! We drank and chatted for a while, then he invited me to dance. I admit, I am somewhat behind the times on modern dances, but he showed me the moves, as it were, and we had such a wonderful evening.”

“Are you meeting him again?”

Celestia deflates a little and quietly laments, “I would like to, but my schedule…”

“Can be adjusted easily enough,” he insists. With a gentle poke to her chest with his hoof he tells her, “The world will not stop if you take a few hours off every week, Celestia. Don’t go trying to use work as an excuse to isolate yourself from society. A society that you’re largely responsible for enabling the existence of, no less. I already know you can go the whole night without sleep easily enough. The big question is going to be how and when you tell him the secret if you do meet again. I’m sure you’ve gone through all this before, though.”

“I have,” she confesses with a sigh. “Many times, in fact. The only thing I can say for sure is that there is no perfect time or way to tell somepony. To my shame, I have found that ponies take the reveal better later rather than sooner.”

“Mmm… I could see that. You mean telling them after you’re intimate is less likely to scare them away, right?”

Her cheeks pink slightly in shame as she slowly nods.

“I’m guessing it’s easier to accept that, despite all the differences, you’re still a pony. It’s the feeling that you’re deceiving them that bugs ya, isn’t it?”

“Very much so, especially when they have trusted me in such a way… to have been deceiving them the whole time makes me feel awful.”

“Probably saps some of the fun outta the act, too,” he suggests. The smallest of nods is her only response.

“Have you ever tried telling them upfront that, due to who you are, you’re wearing a magic disguise and you don’t want to unmask until you know the relationship is serious? Maybe even say you’re famous and, as a result, everypony treats you differently, but you prefer to be treated like anypony else and that makes relationships far more complicated?”

“That is not something I have tried, no.”

“It sucks you have to almost experiment on your own relationships, but I don’t see a good alternative. You know you’ll get a few ponies that will want to play the guessing game when you say you’re famous. You’ll have to have a good way to shut that down if you go that route.”

“I think I would lose interest if I told somepony I was in disguise so I would not be treated differently and their first reaction is to guess at my identity.”

“Yeah, I suppose that’s a sign they’re not going to be a good long term match, seeing as how there’ll be plenty of other times you’re forced to keep secrets. Still, I’m proud of ya, boss. Even if this one doesn’t go anywhere, I’m thrilled to hear you’re going out socially and having fun. If you ever want a wingpony just say the word. I can be there in about an hour, ya know?”

Celestia chuckles at the suggestion; her chest shaking the colt as she snarks, “Oh yes, I am definitely going to ask that a foal not yet ten flies five hundred kilometers to accompany me, mentally older or no. It is sweet of you to suggest, Cure, but I cannot fathom how I would also explain who you are when the time for the revelation finally comes.”

“Fair. I’m not sure how my folks would react to me telling them me and you are gonna go hit a few bars on a Friday night. They know I can’t get drunk, but I bet my dam would still be hesitant. The rest of them would be jealous that they can’t come too.”

“It was nice to go out with ponies that knew my identity. I still feel awful that they witnessed such behavior from their princess. That your sire had to carry me back to the castle like that… I cannot begin to tell you how embarrassing it was to wake up using his side as a pillow.”

“Don’t be embarrassed,” he demands. “They had fun hanging out with a friend and would happily do it again.”

He catches her tail doing a happy swish as she smiles fondly. “It has been a while since I had ponies I could truly consider friends. Perhaps next time they accompany you to Canterlot we will go out again. I believe I will limit myself to only a couple drinks, though.”

“They’re actually looking to get several of the parents together to go out on August 7th. I know it’s not exactly convenient to fly to Baltimare, but I’m sure you’re welcome to join them. You can crash here and head back in the morning if you’d like. We have spare beds, or me and the girls can all join you in a big cuddle pile.”

A single brow raises in consideration. “I will think about it,” she diplomatically answers.

“Cool. I’ll tell them you’re a maybe. Sorry to change the subject back, but I was going to ask if you had a spell or a device of some kind that will jam scrying attempts.”

“Not on hoof, but I can imbue a detection matrix into something. It may not be one hundred percent reliable, as it may misinterpret other alterations in the area that are not scrying attempts, but it should typically account for that. Perhaps an article of clothing or a piece of jewelry?”

“I can live with a few false positives. What about one of my shoes?”

“They already have a resizing and the adherence imbuements. Your peytral has those and, on the emerald, a tracking enchantment. Your crown has the same, but the jewels are mundane. For such a simple application I could imbue a ruby and send it to swap with one in the snake eyes.”

“That’ll work. Thanks, boss! You’re the best boss I’ve ever had, memories included.”

“And you make a wonderful minion, Cure.”

Cure shrugs his wings and scoots forward a hoof, burying his chin in her fur. “Eh, I’ve been called worse.”

“Not recently, I hope.”

“Not in a while, no. I did just get a new title though.”

She tilts her head to her right to give him a one-eyed curious look.

“I guess, technically, I haven’t gotten the title yet, but you have the honor of being snuggled upon by the future patriarch of House Vita. My great grandsire is going to be the acting patriarch for the time being.”

“Oh! Congratulations, Cure!”

“Thanks! It won’t do me a lot of good given the crown and all, but at least the fam will benefit from it. In theory. The plan is to announce it to everypony at our family reunion next year. A few other things came up yesterday when I visited my grandsire. First off, remember that golf driving range he and I discussed at the castle?”

“I do.”

“We’re going to try a more local market first. Fillydelphia, with a build start just after Winter Wrap Up and, and with a little luck, an open date sometime around the start of August. I’m probably going to hit Fillydelphia and maybe Manehattan to raise some capital for my portion of the buy-in as soon as I get back from the squads competition.”

“Ah, trying to sell your cosmetic services before fall estrus hits?”

“Yep. Lotsa mares wanting a firm, round booty or to shave off a few kilos. I gotta be honest; I’m starting to feel a little guilty selling the deaging treatment. I said back in May that I wouldn’t keep making money off of it once I had a legitimate aging cure. Well… I kinda do, now.”

Celestia rolls back to her left side and sits up, staring down in shock at the colt. “You have a way to reverse aging that does not require your direct involvement?!”

Cure climbs to his haunches, half lays against her right side, and nods. “The process is loosely based on the way my trees produce origin cells. The most effective method would be to implant a small organ that produces stem, err, origin cells along with… well, there’s not really another way to say it… a couple viruses, essentially. Both are benign, though.”

A single raised brow prompts him to continue, “One of the virus’ purpose is to detect cells entering the prophase stage of mitosis, which is basically step one in cell division, and instead of allowing it to progress naturally, adheres to the cell wall. The other side of the virus has protein markers that activate, flagging the replicating cell and attracting a pair of free floating origin cells.

“The origin cells attach to the virus which, at that point, provides the necessary genetic data for them to take over the process and replace the dividing cell with two new, young copies. Once that phase is complete the virus initiates apoptosis in the existing cell, detaches from everything, and dies off.

“And yes, I am very much aware of many, many works of fiction that have almost that exact premise as the prelude to a zombie apocalypse or whatever. The virus doesn’t actually do anything other than mark cells, flag them for replacement with young, healthy clones instead of aged, malfunctioning ones, and trigger cell death once it confirms everything happened the way it’s supposed to.

“It doesn’t actually do anything to alter the cells until origin cells arrive on site, and if that doesn’t happen in an hour or two it simply dies off. It’s not spreadable except by blood transfusion and is stable enough that it should never mutate.

“The other virus is specifically designed to do the same process but only with neurons.”

“Nerve cells?”

“Yep. That’s what the brain is made of. A different approach is required there since those cells don’t go through mitosis. That’s why many brain injuries never really heal.”

“But I have seen ponies recover partially after suffering a stroke,” she argues.

“There is a spontaneous recovery period shortly afterwards. That’s the ideal time to give therapy, too. That’s not so much brain matter healing as it is a reconfiguration of the connective tissue in the brain as it responds to the increase in activity in undamaged sections that are doing their best to respond to the increased workload and compensating for the now damaged areas.

“Either way, the virus will help the brain heal afterwards in a way it can’t now. It won’t suddenly return memories in a badly damaged section of the hippocampus, probably, but other issues like paralysis, aphasia, degraded motor control, and what have you will be fixed over time as the damaged neurons are replaced.”

“That… is AMAZING, Cure!” she exclaims as she snatches him off his haunches and squeezes him against her chest again. “Have you already given your parents this organ?”

Cheek smushed against her neck, Cure shakes his head no. “Not yet. I’ve only tested it in my plant so far. There’s a few other massive benefits, too. It speeds healing from injuries quite a bit, first off. It also does a bang-up job eliminating every form of cancer I’ve introduced to the experiment by detecting incorrectly reproduced cells.

“Finally, it treats every degenerative disease I’ve encountered thus far. It’s not a cure, per se, but it effectively counteracts the degeneration, so… same diff, more or less. The virus is able to identify cancerous or unhealthy cells and uses genetic data from nearby healthy ones to replace them.

“Just so we’re clear, this whole thing is not a fast process. We’re talking months before the patient will start visibly deaging, and it’ll be years for the entire body’s cells to be replaced. It should effectively stop aging, cancer, and whatever disease in its tracks almost immediately, though.”

Done squeezing the life from the colt, Celestia sets him down, her forelegs still wrapped possessively around him. “I cannot begin to tell you how excited I am to hear this, Cure! When do you think you will be able to submit samples and documentation for evaluation?”

“Whenever you want me to. I figured this kinda thing needs to go through more secure channels, given the ripples it’s going to cause. I honestly thought it would be more difficult to pull off, but it was way less complicated than the Viral Trees, in the end. It’s, frankly, shocking how easy it was to create, but I guess I kinda should have expected it given how cow manure my talent is.

“Sorry to say, but you’ll have the far more difficult job of figuring out where to go from here. It would be a heck of a lot easier if this just doubled lifespans or something, but as best I can tell it will be effective immortality. Damn near every creature on the planet is going to want it and if we say no they probably won’t accept that as an answer.”

That reminder of the reality of the situation gets a grimace from the exuberant mare. She takes a deep breath and blows out a long, slow sigh as she considers the situation. “I assume you mean that the same organ will work in other creatures as well?”

“Not exactly the same organ. I would need to make one for each type of creature, just like the tree alters the output based on the genetic sample put on the input leaf. I suppose I could use a similar approach, though… create a tree that will, in turn, create the organ using origin cells altered based upon the genetic information received via a sample. The mitosis process is essentially the same for everycreature, so the viruses should be universally applicable.”

“What of the organ itself? Is there a specific spot it would need implanted? How large is it and what would the implantation process involve?”

“Any artery with good blood flow. I’m thinking an inner thigh or the neck would be best. It’s about the size of a grape, so it’s not like it’ll be a difficult surgery. Cut a small incision, push the implant against an artery, hold it in place a few seconds, and seal the patient up. It’ll fuse to the artery and start doing its thing within a few minutes.”

“Amazing,” she repeats while slowly shaking her head. “I cannot believe you did not bring this up right away, Cure.”

“Well it’s not like I actually have anything other than prototypes grown for testing purposes.”

“Still! When you have world-shattering news like that, please, tell me right away.”

He shrugs helplessly, arguing, “You led with the friggin Tree of Harmony expedition, boss! That is every bit as important! Besides, it’s not like I wasn’t going to tell ya.”

She sighs, dismissing the argument with a flick of her wing. “Regardless, I look forward to presenting your new creation to Director Storm. I would not be surprised if she commissions another statue of you for her front lawn.”

“That may be a tad odd, but whatever. It’s not like it would be hard for me to make a statue out of organic ceramics, even if it would use up a lot of my plant matter. Oh, and that brings up another point; I’ll be looking for a small farm for my parents to buy for me, probably before next spring. I’m thinking a half to one hectare at most for now. I guess you don’t really need to know every little thing I’m doing, but now you’ll know instead of being caught by surprise at some point.”

“No, you do not have to tell me everything, Cure, but I appreciate you keeping me aware. I presume the farm will be so you have additional room for your plants?”

“Yep. I’m also gonna start growing those meat-replacement crops I’d mentioned to you before. I’m taking some artificial bacon to work tomorrow for Specialist Strafe and Dr. Care to try out.”

“I see. Unless you are certain you want to own the land permanently, you may want to consider simply renting a portion of a field. It will likely be far less expensive and easier, especially since you will be attending school beginning fall of next year.”

“You can just… rent a part of a field?”

“You can. If you check your local paper you may even find notices posted by farmers with underutilized land that are soliciting renters. Some communities have information posted on notice boards in their town hall.”

“Huh. Wonder why dam didn’t suggest that.”

“Perhaps she was never involved in the overall management of her parents’ farm. I am afraid I do not know what prices you can expect to pay. I would expect no more than a couple hundred bits for a hectare. Likely less.”

“That’s a heck of a lot less than buying even a small farm would cost. Ya know what, boss? Between the scrying detector and this you’ve earned yourself the mother of all massages when I come to town. I hope you got a nice, super absorbent towel for your pillow ‘cause yer gonna be droolin like yer at a cake eatin contest by the time I’m done with ya!”

The mare’s shoulders sag at the colt’s comparison. “I have not been allowed to participate in one of those in decades.”

“Aww, poor thing,” he coos, nuzzling against the edge of her wing. “Since you’ve been a very good girl I’ll bring you your very own cake, too.” A chuckle escapes the colt when the princess lights up at the promise. “Speakin of cake, how are the dessert fruit trees coming along? I figure those should be about ready to start producing by now.”

“Not quite. They are growing well, but they are not yet mature enough. I have been told to expect fruit from them next year for sure.”

“What?! Those should fruit way faster than a normal tree!”

“Cure, even with earth pony magic apple trees typically take at least a few years to grow enough. That they are already nearly three meters tall indicates they will very likely be ready by next year.”

“Aww… but what kinda present won’t even bear fruit for a whole year?! Literally, for once.”

“The kind that a pony who is patient will appreciate for many, many years to come.”

The colt’s exaggerated frown doesn’t abate much, though he does slowly nod in acceptance. “What about your oil plants? They should have a few bulbs on them by now.”

“They do!” she answers, hugging the colt to her side with her wing. “I have grown to appreciate the lavender scent, especially when I have a day of stressful meetings or particularly bothersome court cases.”

“Well… alright,” he grumbles, nuzzling into her fur. “I still feel bad I didn’t give ya more mature trees instead.”

“Really, Cure. You have given me plenty. If you were not already a prince I would have knighted you and awarded you a Silver Wing Award by now. If anypony else were to simply hoof over a cure for aging and ask nothing in return? I would invent a new award and declare it otherwise unattainable.”

The colt’s brow furrows in thought, idly scratching at his chin. “So what you’re saying is, I shoulda nabbed all the awards I could, then ascended. Damn!” he shouts, lightly punching his left hoof with his right, “I bet those have cash prizes, too!”

The look of disappointment she gives him needs no explanation.

“I’m just jokin, boss. I ain’t that greedy.” She continues to stare. “Usually,” he offers with a shrug.

“I know you are generous, Cure. Oh! I never responded to your inquiry about charging for deaging.” His ears perk up as she continues, “I know you said you would no longer solicit payment from ponies once a legitimate cure is available.

“The procedure you are suggesting is not now, nor will it be for quite some time. Even when it is available it will take years to meet the demand. I suspect the demographics most likely paying for the service now are, largely, more than capable of affording it.”

“And what’s the plan when it comes out, be it a year or five from now, that Prince Serpentus was charging customers thousands of bits for something he eventually gave away for free?”

She responds with a mild shrug, pointing out, “Prince Serpentus was offering many services, including that one, from a month after discovering his special talent until nearly a year later when he developed the new treatment. As has been explained several times, he came from humble, yet loving origins and, as any intelligent and filial foal would, devised an innovative and effective method of utilizing his talent to help his growing family with the household finances.

“This eventually led to him assisting with the healthy births of hundreds of foals in the Baltimare area only a few months later, volunteering his time at his local clinic, and ultimately developing the medical breakthroughs that everypony enjoys today, and will continue to benefit from for many, many years to come.

“Instead of criticizing a hard working, dedicated entrepreneur, we should instead be thankful that he has declined payment and donated his time and creations; creations that very well may never have been possible without his efforts.”

Brows hiked, he slowly nods in respectful acceptance. “That’s a very diplomatic way of putting it, I suppose. You got this speech-writing thing down pat, princess.”

“I have had plenty of practice.” She tilts her head curiously and asks, “Have you considered how much income you would have if you had not asked for the tax reduction instead?”

“We’ve estimated the number, but the figure we came up with was around a hundred grand per week assuming every hospital in the nation was using the Origin, Blood, and Viral Trees. I don’t know the valuation on the Colt or Stallion Testing Trees. There’s also the prototype devices I’ve made; the surgical suite and the life support collar. I don’t really know how you would estimate their values, but I’m guessing the number would be very high, especially for VINESS.”

“It certainly would,” she agrees. “I am sure there will be some grumbling, but the fact is that whatever income you will have earned from deaging ponies would pale in comparison to what you are giving away for free, and that is discounting the other benefits you described. A pony could become rich by inventing a treatment that granted your treatment’s side effects alone.

“At some point months or years down the line when your new aging treatment is ready to be deployed, then, perhaps, it would be appropriate to no longer offer that service for payment. Even still, some ponies would gladly pay a few thousand bits to be deaged in an hour rather than waiting months or years for the treatment to take effect.”

“True enough. What about you?”

“If I were in need of such services I would definitely prefer to pay up front rather than wait, but I do not think I am a good pony to solicit an opinion from given my wealth.”

“No, I mean what’s your opinion on the whole thing? I know, now, that I’m getting a stipend, thanks for the heads-up there, bee-tee-dubs, but was the hope that I would live off of that and do what I do otherwise for free?”

“I never expected that,” she instantly denies. “I had assumed you would rant and rave, refusing to even accept that you get a stipend.”

“How much is it, even?”

“Not much. Less than you make in a week.”

The colt stares impassively, waiting for her to elaborate. When she says nothing for a moment he raises a single brow in question. “You know, we’ve done this before,” he tells her, waving a hoof between the two of them. “You know I won’t just accept that vague answer.”

She sighs and rolls her eyes. “Five thousand bits per month, wait!” she insists, holding up a hoof to forestall the argument he had sharply inhaled to express. “That is the same pay as a marquis or marchioness.”

“I could not very well have a grand prince earning less than those who are in positions subordinate to him. Call it a salary if you prefer; the difference is merely academic. Every pony in those positions could do without their stipend as well, as all of them are otherwise wealthy from private businesses to one degree or another, just like yourself.”

Cure blows out the breath he’d taken and pauses a moment to collect himself. “That’s a reasonable argument, I suppose,” he reluctantly agrees. “I guess I can just donate it or use it for some charity eventually, right?”

Slowly nodding, she answers, “If you so choose.”

“Okay. Good.”

“You have very unusual opinions about money and taxation,” she observes.

“How so?”

“You hate when you are required to pay taxes, but also strongly dislike when they are ultimately paid to you. You refuse to directly accept payment for your work at the hospital as well as for your creations, but then you allow that to offset your tax liability. It seems… peculiar.”

“It’s probably the result of having years of memories of paying taxes that went into some nebulous pot that was then used for any number of things I would never approve of; much of it being pissed away by some senator or whoever using the funds to all but buy themselves back in office or, in a round-about way, lining the pockets of their constituents who were rich enough that they could abuse loopholes to avoid paying anything themselves.

“I hate taxes in general, but I accept that they are a necessity, especially in a society where defense, healthcare, education, weather, and any number of other services are flat out paid for by the government and loads of others are at least partially funded.

“At the same time, the money from cosmetics is what I earn, and if there’s a legal, morally acceptable way to keep more of what I earn then I would be a fool not to take advantage. Like you said earlier, a pony could be rich beyond measure selling any one of the things I’ve made, never mind what an ‘appropriate’ salary would be for somepony at the hospital that can do what I do, so I have no problem with that reducing how much is taken away from what I work to earn each quarter.

“The stipend is money that’s being given to me. I’m not really earning it. I just get it ‘cause of my position and I neither asked for it nor do I need it.”

Celestia looks more than a little unsure about the logic, but chooses not to point out the fact that, like the rich senators’ friends he complained about, he is now effectively avoiding taxes as well. She supposes the difference is that he did not need to coerce anypony into giving him such a deal or abuse the legal process; anypony that similarly donates goods could do the same. At the same time, however, families with lower income, like his used to be, would be unable to take advantage of that and, as a result, would end up paying more in taxes than somepony making dozens or hundreds as much as they do.

“I cannot say I completely follow your logic, but I accept your position on the matter and appreciate you explaining it to me.”

“You bet.” Cure takes a deep breath and turns, laying against the mare’s side and nosing at her wing. The pair mentally run the conversation again to ensure that everything that needs updated has been covered. Recalling one dangling thread he had forgotten about, Cure speaks up, saying, “Blackcurrants don’t kill off other plants, but they carry a fungus that does.”

“Oh? The topic had honestly slipped my mind.”

“Mine too. I can send you a safe antifungal agent, but I would recommend not shipping blackcurrant plants like the one you sent me. A single plant could wipe out an entire forest. The spores are pretty hardy and spread by air.” The look of alarm on the princess’s face causes the colt to chuckle. “Don’t worry, the woods near town are fine. Definitely don’t send it up north though. It really only seems to affect some pine trees, so the whole ‘kills other plants’ thing is an exaggeration.”

“I see. That is a relief. Presumably your agent will be safe for other plants?”

Nodding against her side, he answers, “Should be safe for anything but that specific family of fungi. A pony could drink a cup of it and be fine, even if it wouldn’t taste very good.”

“I will stick to tea.”

“Lightweight,” he scoffs.

“I haven’t been called that in a while,” she wistfully remarks.

“You earned it when you started speaking Ancient Ponese and attempting to murder my parents’ eardrums. Being drunk under the table by a couple earth ponies… for shame! You didn’t even have the decency to do it while I was around to witness it!” The colt pokes her knee with a hoof. “You owe me one drunken night of idiocy.”

“I will make no such promise.”

“We’ll see. I got time ta wear ya down. Any clue when you’ll start teachin ponies how to actively use their cutie marks?”

“This coming fall. The plan is to introduce the idea to foals in schools across the nation via a modified lesson plan on basic magic principles. Starting next summer we will begin offering adult classes as well. Anypony who desires to can attend a free class at their local city building to teach them how to actively use magic. The target audience is mostly earth ponies as pegasi already are taught the basics of magic use in their schools and unicorns are largely taught by their parents.”

“Oh? Gonna use the toy auction money for that?”

“If that is something you would approve of. You had previously mentioned seeking out a way to encode preprogrammed Illusions into crystals. Are you no longer attempting to find a way to do so?”

“I am, eventually. I’m fine with the money going towards the education initiative, though. It’s not doing any good just sitting there, after all, and the main benefactors will be earth ponies.”

“For the most part, yes.”

“Any word from the minotaurs?”

“Not yet. Former Ambassador Quickhorn should have arrived in Knossos sometime this past week.”

“Good Lord… travel times are awful. Why in the hay don’t we have steam powered ships when we have trains?!”

“Truthfully, I do not know. Presumably the engine that powers a train could, with some modification, also propel a ship, could it not?”

“It could. A steam engine is pretty basic. Heat water, use the pressure to push the piston which turns the wheels… or in the case of a ship, the propellor. Ed wasn’t an engineer, but even still I bet I could build a very, very basic one. Transmutation makes sourcing strong enough stainless steel easy and makes sealing pipes a cinch. If I recall correctly, sheathing the bottom of the boat in copper massively reduces barnacle adherence, but it has to be cleaned every few months. What else is there…” he mumbles, drifting off in thought.

A smile creeps across the ancient alicorn’s face as she watches the foal mutter to himself while idly pawing at his chin. The way his ears dance, turning back when he’s trying to remember something or perking up when the memory surfaces is adorable and, despite her desire to not interrupt him, makes it hard not to reach down and give them a nuzzle.

Finally, after several minutes of thought, the colt sighs and shakes his head. “I can’t think of a way to make a gas engine without gas, really. I don’t know the formula for diesel or unleaded, either, so I can’t really say how we’d go about solving that problem. I know ethanol can be used as a fuel additive but I’m not sure if it can be used as a fuel by itself.”

“Perhaps I should convene a panel of scientists to meet with you at some point. I am concerned about how to explain the knowledge you possess… presumably you would not want to share your situation with others, correct?”

“Probably not. I could go in disguise, though. We could otherwise use bits and pieces of the true story. I could meet with them as a pony and make up a story about arriving on Equus, being transformed from my original species - a human - into whatever, and wanting to help. Of course, I greatly value my privacy, so I am only okay with meeting on rare occasions and, conveniently, you’re the only one I trust to know how to contact me.”

She nods along, saying, “That is essentially what I was going to propose.”

“Who will own the ideas?” he asks. “Will these be government funded or are we talking scientists that work for private companies?”

“The former, at least during the research and development phase. Any inventions that result from such are typically leased to companies to manufacture, thus preventing the crown from directly and unfairly competing with others.”

“I’m guessing that’s how government R&D is funded?”

“Precisely. You will want to secure legal representation for your alias to ensure that you are properly compensated.”

“I… hadn’t considered that. Good point, I guess. I’ll have to set up a P.O. Box and type something up. My normal attorney referred me to somepony that specializes in commerce law for the window idea I told you about, but being a foal makes everything more complicated. I might need to bring Amy to the squads thing just so she can meet with them and secure representation.”

“Do not forget to bring documentation. Your parents’ marriage certificate and your birth record will be needed to show she is a legal guardian.”

“Right. It would be annoying if I had to forge paperwork on the spot.”

“Not to mention illegal,” she sternly comments.

“Actually, if it’s an exact duplicate of the real document without any alterations then I’m not sure if it would be.”

“It definitely is. I cannot speak to the likelihood of it being discovered, let alone prosecuted, but I assure you it is illegal.”

“Meh, it’s only a crime if you get caught.”

“Cure…”

“Celestia?”

The mare’s look is one of pure exasperation as she asks, “Must I specifically tell you not to use your talent to reproduce official government documents?”

“I mean… you don’t have to. You could just say,” he begins, switching to her voice, “‘Even though it doesn’t hurt anypony and nopony actually cares, please don’t save yourself the hassle of remembering to carry around papers that you can effortlessly reproduce with your talent, you magnificent and brilliant young stallion.’”

She closes her eyes and sighs before nodding and responding, “Close enough, I suppose.”

He tilts his head in confusion and asks, “What’s close enough? Unless you say it I’m afraid I don’t understand, princess.”

“Perhaps brilliant was inaccurate, then.”

“You wound me, boss.”

“Yes, I can tell you are deeply offended.” She takes a deep breath and leans close to nuzzle into the colt’s mane. “Unless you have any other topics you would like to discuss…?”

“Nope. I can’t think of anything else.” He turns, rearing up to wrap her neck in a hug and nuzzles against her cheek. “I’m happy to hear you’re gettin out some. Keep doin that. I want progress notes every week. Good night, Celestia.”

“And a good night to you, too, Cure. Sleep well.”

Author's Note

So it's painfully obvious that posting speed has taken a major hit. The whole moving thing has been an absolute bitch. You don't really realize how much there is until you've done it. Drywalling, painting, changing out light fixtures, putting together furniture, rearranging rooms now that I'm no longer in the "moving in" phase and am in the "living here" phase, plumbing (replacing faucets, old toilets, etc.), and the million other "little things" that seem to never stop.

I keep saying things should settle down and get back to normal. Well... hopefully that'll happen soonish. We'll see. 89 is barely started, so it'll either be ready next week or the week after, depending on how often I can set aside handyman work to actually do something enjoyable.

Some big things this chapter. First, the Tree expedition went forward. This chaos magic imbued in them are making it impossible to scan them for now, so the logical approach is to dispel that magic and try again. There are several ways that this whole fiasco can be taken care of, but I'm not going to give any spoilers out. I wouldn't be surprised if someone guesses either the exact solution or something very close to it, though.

As for the aging thing... Cure has finally dropped the big bomb on the boss. A few thoughts on this. First off, I couldn't really come up with a reason why, after the things we've already seen him do, this would be very difficult to achieve. It's basically a cellular level rebirth, or a manual version of what his talent is presumably doing when he restores a pony's youth, or, I suppose, the smallest scale Ship of Theseus approach possible.

As far as the Blackcurrant thing? I had genuinely forgotten about it. That's a problem Cure should have been able to solve in a few days. The fungus that the plants carry should have been very obvious as a contaminant as soon as he scanned the thing. Oops?

The whole Celestia sneaking out thing is certainly a butterfly caused by our protagonist. He probably never considered the possibility that she would enjoy herself so much with his parents that she would do it again. Well, now it's happened and she met a stallion she had fun with. Will it lead to more? Who knows?

I guess we'll find out eventually.

Either way, thanks for reading/rating/commenting. See you next week - either with a chapter or a comment if I can't get the free time to put one together.

Later!

Chapter 89: Untamed Lady Bush

Friday, July 31st, 909 AB (5 days later)

With the wind brushing against his coat, Cure dips his right wing down and flares the feathers low to pull himself to the right. He’d left for work a little early today and, now in his Prince Serpentus guise, is in the mood for a brief few moments of freedom before he punches in. Still a ways northwest of the hospital, he veers to the south over the zoo and climbs a few hundred meters to keep well clear of civilian traffic; a must given that he is flying while cloaked in an Invisibility spell.

Coasting over a shopping area, he glances down and sees a familiar unicorn unlock the door on his business before stepping inside. With the surplus of crystals he’d built up he hasn’t had a need to rush off to Early’s Odds ‘n Ends in quite a while. He isn’t overly worried about the stallion’s bottom line; Dawn has more than stepped up to the plate in that department. With her burgeoning reputation as a Perfect Caster, a feat that few unicorns can match, her own “Crystal Empire” is doing quite well.

The other foals aren’t suffering financially either, he reflects. Flight suit sales are somewhat low, kept that way intentionally so as to not run anypony out of business that has to actually pay suppliers, shipping, staff, and other expenses. Despite that, both pegasi have made enough that they’ll have the pleasure of hitting the highest income tax rate come the end of September.

Heavy Lift, Delta Coast, Rising Pitch, and Sapphire Sprint aren’t exactly going hungry either. While the plush toys aren’t a big-ticket item like flight suits, the sales volume is quite a bit higher. Cure is also far less reticent about making those en masse as, even if they tried, their market saturation would never be sufficient enough to do any lasting harm to toy manufacturers in the Baltimare region.

Ferric is the only one that isn’t directly directly financially benefiting from Cure, at least on an ongoing basis. On the other hoof, she is gaining, possibly, more than anypony in the long run. Since he “loaned” her the mid-high Transmutation crystal and showed her how to recharge it, not only has she made a tidy profit turning useless scrap into valuable high-grade steel, she’s also been able to experiment with metals she likely wouldn’t have known existed otherwise.

As happy as he is with the overall situation, Cure still can’t completely ignore one issue that’s bugging him more than he cares to admit. His friends dismissed it as irrelevant and his parents argued the same, but no matter how much he knows it shouldn’t bother him, there’s no argument against one simple fact.

The unicorn and pegasi are getting rich while the earth ponies are getting by.

He wonders if somehow that’s an inevitability in this world. It certainly wasn’t intentional on his part. It just happened to work out that way. Despite that, he can’t help but draw comparisons between his herd of foals and the future bearers.

Magic became the immortal ruler of the entire nation.

Generosity owned boutiques in several major metropolitan markets.

Loyalty, as best Ed recalls, became a Wonderbolt and a national icon.

Kindness is somewhat the exception, but she seemed perfectly happy living in a hut with nopony around, so she probably could be a millionaire and it wouldn’t matter to her.

The earth ponies, though? One ran a farm that struggled financially, somehow, and the other worked at a bakery. She doesn’t even own the bakery; she’s unskilled labor working a low paying job. There’s a possibility she makes good money off of her party planning business; Starlight does well enough, but he is unaware of Laughter ever requesting compensation for her services.

Cure acknowledges that each one of them got to live out their “dream” in a way, but the pattern repeating itself irks him more than everypony seems to think it should. The truly frustrating part is that he is directly responsible for the way it played out and he didn’t even realize it until just recently. His only comfort is the knowledge that not only is ensuring his friends’ financial success not his responsibility, they’re all doing far better than they would have otherwise.

Despite that, for all that he likes to think his human perspective makes him immune to many of the shortcomings he sees in ponykind, he can’t deny that the realization of the situation slipped by him for weeks. As much as he would like to help, he is aware that it is not his responsibility to ensure that everypony ends up rich.

Pushing the idle thoughts of his potential future mates aside, Cure relishes the weightless freedom of the sky as he casts his gaze over the downtown area. A steady flow of ponies come and go from several buildings; banks, government offices, various businesses, and so forth. He catches sight of dozens of mail carriers as they depart from the main post office. Most are pegasi, but eight earth ponies and a half dozen unicorns all head out too.

He can only assume the ground-based ponies are taking care of the more local areas. The pegasi all shoot off in different directions in the sky. The earth ponies take off in teams of two; one pulling a cart full of parcels and the other running individual items up to doors or inside businesses. The unicorns are laden with larger than usual saddlebags with individual, presorted slots similar to the wall file organizers humans use in their cubicles.

Curiosity getting the better of him, he follows a unicorn mare as she moves south at a quick canter towards a local apartment building. As he circles invisibly overhead he watches as her horn ignites and every mailbox opens at once. Letter after letter floats out of her satchel and deposits itself in, presumably, the correct box before they’re all simultaneously closed.

The mare’s probably been doing this for years, but it still irks him a little to see somepony so much better at multitasking than he is. He grumbles quietly in the wind at the fact that, despite all attempts to find one, no cheat has made itself evident for improving horn proficiency. Sure, he is improving rather quickly by all metrics, but he’s still noticeably behind Dawn and, to a greater degree, Solar.

Preparing to peel away, he pauses for a moment as the mailmare continues her route, popping open mailboxes, levitating the deliveries inside, and closing them again without even slowing down in the slightest as she makes her way down the street.

Quirking a grin, the colt swoops down and dispels his invisibility. Lazily flapping his wings, he hovers to her left and calls out, “Good morning!”

The deep blue mare barely glances to her side, catching sight of a hovering pegasus colt but not really paying attention otherwise. “‘mornin,” she briskly replies without slowing her canter.

He easily keeps pace with her, smiling in silent laughter as other ponies pause to gawk, some openly pointing while hushed conversations about “the prince” and “his highness” reach his ears. He waves a hoof in greeting as he passes by the masses, some of them ducking their heads in a shallow bow as the determined postal carrier continues on unaware, despite the ponies ahead of her scrambling to move out of her way.

“Well, I don’t want to distract you from your work or anything,” he says, getting a grunt in reply, “but I happened to be flying by and saw how skilled you are with levitation and, now that I’ve seen how hard using a horn is, I didn’t want to fly off without complimenting your proficiency.”

“Uh huh. Thanks,” she mumbles as she moves on to the next business and lifts the lid on their mailbox.

“Okay, well… keep up the good work, miss!” She suddenly freezes mid-stride as “flying colt” plus “learned how to use a horn” add up in her mind. Finally turning to her left, she meets the widely grinning alicorn’s eyes as he waves goodbye. “Take care!” he calls out, internally cackling at her horrified expression before Teleporting a couple hundred meters into the sky and reactivating his Invisibility crystal.

He circles for another moment and watches as nearly every nearby pony rushes over to question the mare. He genuinely just wanted to compliment her, so the sudden mob surrounding her makes him feel a little guilty. One of the buildings down the street is an office for the Examiner, and it only takes a moment for a pair of mares to rush out of it headed for the mailmare, notepads and camera at the ready.

The poor mailmare seems to be freaking out a bit. She switches between staring up at the sky and answering questions every few seconds while nervously shuffling side to side on her left, then right hooves. Thankfully, the impromptu crowd almost immediately gets the attention of a passing guard squad who quickly intervenes, cutting off the crowd and ordering everypony to disperse so the unicorn can get back to work.

Lesson learned, Cure vows not to surprise anypony else until his rabid popularity diminishes somewhat. The interaction was hilarious right up until she was surrounded, and having some innocent fun turn into that is disappointing and more than a little upsetting. At least she wasn’t physically harmed, even if his dropping in probably ruined her whole morning.

With no good ways to help her that won’t likely make things worse, Cure pumps his wings to get above civilian traffic again and turns toward the ocean. Aware of his shift start time fast approaching, he gains speed and circles south of City Hall to aim for the water south of the docks. Only a few ships are in the bay; most were docked overnight, but the vessels that got an early start are making a steady procession eastward to open waters.

A few fishing boats are headed out too. Cure spots mixed crews; mostly ponies, of course, but, given the local demographics, a disproportionate number of griffons and hippogriffs are hard at work as well. He circles overhead and watches as a young hippogriff stallion flies off to the northeast, likely shooting further up the coast to dive and scout for good fishing grounds for the day.

Dozens of weather ponies are combing the skies for kilometers off the coast. He watches them work to flatten and spread the clouds thin over the bay and the closest approximation of beaches the city has. The layer of cloud cover still lets plenty of light from Celestia’s sun through, but also lowers the temperature a few degrees and drops the brightness down to more comfortable levels.

Further out to sea, patrols of pegasi keep a lookout on the ships coming and going while armored Equestria griffons and hippogriffs patrol higher and further out, gliding through the sky with ease on wings evolved specifically for that purpose. A few squads are either slacking off or taking a breather while camped out on small clouds looking down on passing ships.

Even further out, barely within perceptible range for the colt, is a patrolling airship with pegasi and griff escorts. It’s moving at, relatively speaking, a snail’s pace as it makes its way south. The light blue dirigible isn’t particularly large, but with the lightening enchantments imbued into the underslung flight deck it doesn’t need to be. Cure estimates it to be floating only a few hundred meters in the air, presumably to keep it below stronger air currents that would make steering the primitive vehicle nearly impossible.

Cure is confident that any pirate force out there knows better than to attempt to raid an Equestrian city, but is aware that boats, on occasion, do arrive at port having had their shipments stolen. Though infrequent even there, it’s more of a problem to the south near Tampa Neigh and New Horseleans due to their proximity to the area that pirates primarily launch from.

The Carribleatin Islands aren’t developed like their Earth equivalents and, due to the relative weakness of the Equestrian Navy and the lack of other effective governments to the south, pirates have relatively free rein in the area. As Cure understands it, most of the goods make their way southeast to Panthera or to the southwest to be sold off in Kludgetown and the other so-called “Free Cities” along the south and east coasts of the Bone Dry Desert, but some also end up being smuggled into Zebrica or Griffonstone’s southern lands.

It’s a problem he wouldn’t mind tackling when he’s older. The pirates very rarely harm crews unless they attempt to fight back, but “rarely” isn’t never, and he’s confident they won’t have anything that could save them from a fully empowered and battle-ready alicorn, so the risk to him is minimal.

Of course, he is aware enough of how tropes work to recognize that, inevitably, he’ll stumble upon the Staff of Sacanas or some other similar anti-alicorn artifact if he keeps up that line of thinking. Narrative Causality loves to remind creatures thinking themselves invincible that everycreature has at least some form of kryptonite.

As he heads further up north he passes to the east of the private docks. He estimates about sixty ships are berthed there. The Merry Mariner is one of the larger ones, but there’s still quite a few privately owned sailboats and pleasure craft along with a few smaller fishing boats.

Canterton Park is busier than he would expect given the early hour. Quite a few ponies are out jogging and chatting along the coastal paths and a few families are playing in the water at Mason’s Cove. He’s more than a little tempted to fly down and take a dive himself, but knows he can’t. Rarely does he regret how busy he’s made himself, but there’s occasions where his foal brain pushes him to play hooky and go have fun.

Wrenching his eyes away from the scene below, he heads back west towards Base Carol and veers south to avoid their airspace and whatever detection wards are installed. As he nears the hospital he can see a small line of reporters held back from the front doors by a couple hospital security ponies.

He activates his Teleport crystal and hops ahead only a few meters, the act dispelling his Invisibility at the same time. All heads snap up at the flash in the sky and several hooves point in his direction as he descends. He dives quickly before flaring his wings, enjoying the strong pull on his pectorals as he bleeds off speed far faster than a pegasus would normally be willing to try.

With a couple quick flaps he levels out, smoothly transitioning from flight to a fast trot just a few meters away from his three guards. He turns his head to the squad of reporters and raises his left wing in a wave while smiling at the crowd.

Several questions are shouted in his direction as he approaches Sgt. Blackhoof, but one causes him to pause. Despite the incident only happening a few minutes prior, somepony yells out asking about the mailmare and what his relation is to her.

Thus far in his time as a public figure, Cure has avoided making statements, especially to the press. Because of his sudden deviation from the norm, every reporter on the line goes dead silent when the young alicorn turns to respond.

“There is no relation between her and I. I didn’t even talk with her long enough to get her name. I happened to be flying overhead and noticed the mare’s amazing horn dexterity. I swooped down to say hi and compliment her, that is all. Dexterity with levitation is something I am working on since I wasn’t born with this fella,” he says, pointing to his horn with his hoof.

“I would like to apologize to the poor mare. Not only was I distracting an obviously diligent hard worker, but my presence also caused a scene far beyond what I anticipated and, more than likely, lengthened her work day as a result. That was obviously not my intent.

“I am saddened to see that even a common interaction with somepony on the street can result in such an overzealous response, and only feel vindicated in my decision to continue keeping my identity private. I appreciate that ponies are excited to see me, but I am certain nopony would desire that kind of attention for their family, their friends, or themselves every time they left their homes.” Piece said, he adds a quick, “Thank you,” turns, and ignores the follow-up questions shouted at his rear as he trots up to the hospital doors.

“‘Mornin, sarge.”

“Good morning sir. Nice speech. The mailmare okay?”

“She was when I flew off. I still feel bad though. Friggin stopped for ten seconds to say kudos and she got damn near mobbed as a result. A guard unit stepped in before it got out of hoof, thankfully. How ‘bout you all? Anything exciting happened so far?”

The stallion doesn’t bother hiding a grimace as he slowly nods. Instead of explaining he tilts his head to the doors. Cure gets the message easily enough and leads the three inside. The main reception area is fairly empty, though there are a few ponies milling about.

A pegasus stallion is sitting on a bench by the windows coughing pretty bad and an older unicorn mare is being tended to by her husband. The sight of him doting on her is adorable, but Cure doesn’t linger long, instead approaching Dr. Care who is waving him over. Being the hospital’s chief physician, she doesn’t typically act as his minder unless something unusual is going on.

“What’s up, doc?” the colt cheerfully asks.

“Nothin good,” she answers as she pushes open the doors that’ll take them to the ER area. “I’m sorry to involve you in this, highness, but there’s a bit of a situation that I think requires your attention. Or, at least, you’ll be able to resolve it better than we normally could.”

Cure raises a brow in question only to pause as they turn the corner that will lead them to the ER. He faintly makes out the sound of a shouting mare in the distance and, when his ears perk up and turn forward to catch the conversation, can make out that she’s rather forcefully insisting, “... we be released this instant!”

The doctor catches his reaction and gives him a surprised look. “You can hear that already?! Those ER doors are so thick they’re almost soundproof!” She shakes her head in disbelief and grumbles about alicorns before reminding him, “You still owe me a physical if your parents and the princess are okay with it.”

“Kinda forgot about that, to be honest. Today would be perfect since my first appointment at my business isn’t until one. You free for an early lunch? We could knock it out right afterwards.”

“Sure,” she agrees with a shrug, “That would be great. So,” she nods ahead of them and slows her trot to explain, “I suspect you’re hearing Lady Willow Bush insisting she and her husband be allowed to leave.

“They showed up to the ER about half an hour ago. The poor stallion has either a fracture or a bruised bone as best we can tell without running a scan. This isn’t the first time the pair have been here due to Elegant Flourish… that’s her husband… suffering similar, if typically less severe injuries.”

“Okay…”

“Everything was going fine until a nurse suggested you could patch them right up. She’s always a little… well, let’s say difficult, but when she realized today is a day you’re available she became downright belligerent.” She stops walking just before the doors and reaches over to settle a hoof on his withers. “Do you understand the situation?”

“I’m guessing the suspicion is that she’s abusing him.”

“We can’t prove that, but…” she trails off meaningfully.

“I don’t know if I can necessarily prove it, but if that is happening I should be able to provide fairly strong evidence.”

“I would assume so,” she agrees, “but the real issue is that she uses her title to get away with it repeatedly. She can’t do that with you.”

“You don’t let her get away with that crap, do you?”

The mare’s shoulders sag in disappointment. “I’ve never been able to get her separated from her husband long enough to talk to him. She always insists she be in the room, and he won’t speak up with her there. We end up treating him as best we can and sending them on their way, normally.”

“Okay. I think I understand.”

“Are you sure you want to deal with this?”

“Sure. What’s she going to do? I’m a prince of the realm. She answers to the princess and, indirectly, to me, not the other way around. Besides, the sarge has been dyin to show me how much flank he can whoop, ain’t that right?” he asks, looking over his withers at the dark stallion.

“I don’t recall saying that, sir,” the stallion flatly denies.

“No fun,” he huffs. “Either way, let’s take a gander and, if your hunch is right, we’ll sort out the mess from there. Chances are I’ll have to let the boss lady know. Nobles actin up ultimately answer to her.”

The green mare gives him a nod and holds the door open with her telekinesis. The colt takes point with the doctor then his guards falling in line. It isn’t difficult to follow the shouts around past the nurse’s station, nor would it be hard to find his way even if he were deaf considering how many employees are timidly looking around the wall’s corner at the spectacle.

As soon as Cure rounds the corner the mare’s eyes widen in horror. She’s a peach colored earth pony, probably in her early thirties, with a dark brown mane that’s all wound up into some kind of updo style Cure couldn’t possibly name. She’s wearing a rather nice looking black business suit along with a gold necklace with a large ruby resting on her chest; strange attire for an ER visit unless she plans on heading into the office afterwards.

The nurse follows her eyes, turns to see the colt and his entourage, and visibly sags in relief. Dr. Care dismisses him with a jerk of her head and the poor stallion doesn’t hesitate a second to make his escape, ducking his head in a shallow bow as he passes by.

“Lady Willow Bush, I presume?” Cure asks.

“Yes, your highness,” she answers, bowing her head as she backs into the doorway to the room.

“I understand your husband got a bit bruised up?”

“He tripped, but he’s fine! We don’t need to take up your highness’s time! I’m sure there’s plenty of ponies that are far more in need of your highness’s attention!”

“Nonsense! I couldn’t possibly neglect the husband of an esteemed noble such as yourself, especially when I can have him fixed up in just a moment. If you would, please, allow me by so I can check on Mr. Flourish’s condition.”

“Really, he’s -”

“I insist,” he says, all levity leaving the colt in an instant. Taking their cue, the three guards step closer to the colt and eye the mare. “In fact, Lady Bush, while you’re welcome to watch from outside the doorway, I’ll need some space to work.”

“Why can’t I be in the room?!” she demands.

“You can see everything from the doorway,” he explains as he trots past the mare. Cure is short enough that he can slip by her legs, but the larger earth pony makes it a little awkward for Dr. Care to get by with the way she’s standing in the entry. The sergeant steps up and orders her to move out of the way so he and the other two can take up their stations, but still leaves room for her to see past him.

“Howdy!” the colt chirps as he hops up on the foot of the bed. “Mr. Elegant Flourish, right?”

Despite the somewhat effeminate name, the earth pony stallion is every bit as large and strong looking as any other earth pony stallion. Cure had been prepared for a smaller, more waifish appearance based on the suspicion that a mare inflicted the described injuries, but that’s clearly an unfair assumption on his part.

The stallion has a very light pastel blue coat and deep purple hair which is pulled back into a long, braided ponytail. Hairstyle and color aside, there’s nothing particularly unusual about him.

“Yes sir, your highness! Sorry I can’t bow, but,” he motions to his obviously injured left foreleg with a wince.

“Oh I think we can let it slide this time,” he playfully remarks. “As far as your leg is concerned I’ll have you all fixed up in a jiffy.” He visibly ignites his horn for show and scans the stallion, unfortunately finding exactly what Dr. Care expected. Cure uses his Sound Bubble crystal to surround the three and comments. “Got a bit banged up, it seems. How exactly did that happen?”

“I slipped when I was getting out of the shower, sir,” he answers. The stallion is a terrible liar; not only are his ears pinned back, but he’s stealing glances at his wife at the doorway as he answers, almost as if he’s worried she’s going to yell at him depending on his answer.

“We’re inside of a Sound Bubble,” Cure explains. “Nopony outside can hear you. For the record, this injury is absolutely not from a fall. The only way this happened from you falling is if you somehow managed to kick your left foreleg on the outside of it with your right hoof on the way down. That would take a heck of a contortionist to pull off. From the color I’m guessing this happened at least twelve hours ago, not this morning.”

“You… you can tell?”

“I can. I can also tell you have a lot of other bruises and a few older injuries that I suspect aren’t from falls either.” The stallion’s shoulders, ears, and tail all sag as if he’s being accused of perjury.

“I’m going to be honest with you, Mr. Flourish. I have a pretty good idea about how you’re getting injured, but I can’t cast a spell and fix the underlying problem. I can heal you up and send you on your way, but if somepony is hurting you and you want it to stop then you’ll have to at least cooperate with an investigation.”

Mr. Flourish shuffles slightly in the bed, glancing between Cure, Dr. Care, and his wife. Cure spares a look over his withers and finds that she’s arguing with Sgt. Blackhoof about something. Given she’s excluded from the conversation, he can only assume she’s insisting she be allowed into the Bubble. Unfortunately for her, Cure’s authority far outstrips hers, so the dark stallion is stalwartly refusing her demands.

“What’ll happen?” he finally asks, glancing between the colt and the doctor.

“Normally, counseling, probably,” she answers. “Maybe some community service, but she’ll definitely be ordered to talk to somepony. Since she is a Lady,” she says with a roll of her eyes, “it’ll ultimately be up to the princess.”

“What about our foals?”

“Where are they?” Cure asks. “Right now, I mean.”

“My sister’s watching them.”

Realization that there’s foals involved belatedly registers and Cure immediately asks, “Does she hit you in front of them?” More urgently he adds, “Does she hit them too?!”

“No! Never!”

The tension in the room eases as he blows out a sigh of relief. “Good. You mean ‘No’ to both questions, right?”

“Of course!”

“Alright, I understand. I just gotta be sure, mister. In case it gets worse when you leave, do you have somewhere you and your foals can stay until this gets sorted out?”

“I… I can stay with her, too. She’s been insisting I do so for months.”

“Ah. She’s aware?” The stallion slowly nods, eyes downcast. “It ain’t your fault, dude. Don’t go blaming yourself. This is something she needs to work through.” He turns to the doctor and asks, “How do you typically approach this?”

“I’ve run a scan, so I can verify your findings. Go ahead and fix Mr. Flourish up,” she instructs. “We’ll get all the paperwork together and Send a message to the local guard station so they can do their part. Lady Bush should be detained overnight. I’m not exactly sure if her status will make a difference there. You may be called to testify, you realize?”

Cure bobs his head in understanding. “I figured. Here,” he says, reaching under his wing to remove a wooden hoof and a small stack of papers. “This is an exact duplicate of the size and shape of the hoof that caused his injuries.

“It’s not exactly a smoking… err… it’s not irrefutable proof, especially since there’s no blatantly obvious chips or splits in the hoof wall to pin it to anypony specific, but I bet it matches up perfectly with Lady Bush’s right forehoof in size, at least. The papers there lists his injuries and has my signature and mark on it as well as today’s date along with illustrations detailing everything.”

The doctor takes it all in her magic and begins reading the document and leafing through the pictures. Her brow shoots up when she gets to the embossed replica of the colt’s seal and she has to briefly suppress the desire to look and see what else he’s got under that wing. The stallion has a look of utter confusion as he tries to piece together how the colt made those on the spot.

Not deigning to explain, Cure turns to the stallion and informs him, “You’re all set, Mr. Flourish. Your leg is good as new and I’ve fixed up everything else I could find.” More firmly, he adds, “Just remember - Nopony has the right to hurt you. Ever. Okay?”

A slow, solemn nod is the stallion’s only response.

“When the guards arrive to question you I recommend you be honest with them,” Dr. Care suggests. “This has been going on too long, and you don’t deserve it. Nopony deserves it. Be strong, Mr. Flourish. Not just for yourself, but also for your foals.”

Cure can’t help but nod in agreement. He’s not sure exactly how this kind of thing is handled in Equestria, but he’s confident that his presence and witnessing the injuries will effectively prevent the mare trying to abuse whatever authority she may think she has to get off scot free.

With a final farewell Cure hops off the short bed and dispels the Sound Bubble, unhappy to hear Lady Bush still arguing with Sgt. Blackhoof as he makes his way to the door. “What’s the problem here?” he asks, glancing between the two.

The mare rounds on him and opens her mouth to verbally lash out, but catches herself before she does, literally biting her lips to hold in the, Cure is certain, cheery response. She takes a calming breath and asks, “Is my husband all better? May we leave now, your highness?”

“He’s all patched up,” Cure answers, “but due to the nature of his injuries I’m afraid guard involvement will be necessary, Lady Bush.” Her eyes widen and she goes stock still at the news. “Until the squad arrives to speak to you, I’ll have to insist you wait in the lobby area. Sergeant Blackhoof and Specialist Twist will -”

“You can’t keep me from my husband!” she screeches.

The entire hallway goes silent as everypony freezes and turns to stare.

Furious at the overall situation and, specifically, at the interruption, Cure feels his wings lift slightly in agitation. He raises a single hoof to point at the mare and, in a calm, conversational tone that carries throughout the entire hallway, he firmly instructs, “You will not interrupt me again, Lady Willow Bush. Is that understood?”

The blood drains from her face as panic sets in. Furiously nodding, she nearly shouts, “Yes, your highness! Apologies, your highness!”

“You will wait in the lobby. You will cooperate with both the sergeant and the guards that are on their way. You will not do anything to garner my attention again today. I will be informing Princess Celestia of this… situation tonight.”

The mare dips into a quick bow and immediately flees the area, tail literally tucked between her legs and head down.

“Sergeant, please keep an eye on her until the local squad arrives.” The stallion snaps to attention and gives Cure a salute before following in the mare’s hoofsteps. “Specialist Twist,” he calls as he turns to his unicorn guard, “Ensure Mr. Flourish is not unduly disturbed until he has an opportunity to speak to them. Only employees and necessary staff in his room, okay?”

“Sir! Yes, sir!” he barks and snaps off a salute.

“Appreciated. And specialist, I am authorizing you to use whatever force you deem necessary should unwelcome guests,” he flicks his eyes towards the lobby, “attempt to get by you.”

“Understood, sir!” At the colt’s nod he trots back to the stallion’s room and stands at attention by the door.

Confrontation over, Cure takes a deep calming breath and stretches his wings up before resettling them. The normal sounds of motion return to the surroundings as everpony gets back to work. He idly comments, “I never expected somepony to literally ruffle my feathers.”

The quip gets a chuckle from Dr. Care as she finishes giving instructions to the staff at the nurses’ station. “She has a bit of a way about her, doesn’t she?”

“Yeah. Really brings the best out of ponies. So, doc, is there anypony in the ICU I need to check on?”

“Nope. You got ‘em all on Wednesday and nopony has needed to stay in there since. Your out of town transfers will be showing up in few, though. I have a few things to take care of. See you at lunch?”

“Sounds good, doc. C’mon, Specialist, let’s go see what other excitement we can get into.”

“Height and weight first,” she instructs. Cure hops on the scale and watches as she moves the counterweights over a notch at a time, then slides an arm down the machine to rest on his withers.

“Eighty-nine point three kilos,” she mumbles to herself while noting it down on her form, “and just a tad over sixty-nine cm. I half expected you to shoot up overnight after all this,” she suggests, motioning to his horn.

“The boss lady said I should mature normally.”

A brow creeps up as she asks, “Has experience, hmm?”

“No comment, doc.”

She nods in acceptance and waves at the table. “Alright. Strip and hop up.”

Dr. Care trots over to the opposite counter, taps the Cleaning crystal, and turns around to find the colt undressed and laying suggestively on his right side with his left hind leg slightly forward and outstretched, his wing partially opened and stretching back to cover his pride. He bats his suddenly longer lashes at the mare and, in a suddenly deep voice, huskily says, “I’m ready whenever you are, Doctor Care.”

She closes her eyes and looks up to the heavens in a silent prayer for more patience. inhaling deeply and blowing out a long sigh. “Colt…” she growls, opening her eyes to find him sitting normally with his head cocked in confusion.

“Somethin wrong, doc?”

“Behave, or I will whack you with this clipboard.” Said clipboard waves not very menacingly in the air.

“Do you typically threaten your patients?”

“Only the special ones.” She looks around in confusion and asks, “Where did you put your suit?”

“Away,” he fails to answer, smirking at the mare’s nonplussed reaction.

“Whatever. Let’s start with the usuals.”

He nods in understanding as she lifts a tape measure up to his horn then pauses, eyeing him warily and waiting for him to do something. He stares back projecting the very image of innocence for a few seconds until she rolls her eyes and writes down its length. The process repeats for his barrel circumference, length, wing length and depth, neck length and circumference, and everything else appropriate for a foal’s physical.

“Your horn is a little longer, but I would expect that. Your wingspan is a bit wide, but then so are you, so…” she drifts off with a shrug. “You’re awfully heavy for a colt your age, even if your height is typical. Barrel and neck circumference are on the high side, but again… wide, even for an earth pony foal.”

“You callin me fat, doc?” Cure asks in faux outrage.

Dr. Care scoffs and shakes her head. “Not hardly.”

“Just give it to me straight, doc. How long do I got?”

“Not long if you keep being a pest.” She doesn’t need to look up from her notes to know he’s pouting.

“Alright. Pulse, blood pressure, and temperature,” she says, levitating her stethoscope into place.

She places the chestpiece just behind his left foreleg pit, recoiling away when the beat suddenly goes wild. His mischievous grin gives the joke away almost instantly and the mare blows out another sigh. “Cure,” she pleadingly calls, relieved when the normal thump-thump resumes. “Nightmare,” she grumbles under her breath.

“Deep breaths,” she instructs, moving the stethoscope after each one.

“Respiration is normal. Heart rate’s normal. Maybe a tad on the lower end,” Dr. Care comments. With a slight growl she adds, “At least, now it is.”

“I thought you’d appreciate a ‘lil music, doc. At least the tune was catchy.”

“If you say so,” she noncommittally grunts as she takes notes. She levitates a thermometer over and crams it into his mouth without warning, smirking slightly at the weak scowl he sends her way. “Thirty seven point seven. Okay, blood pressure.”

Cure stands and turns sideways as she levitates the foal-sized cuff over. She wraps it around the base of his tail and begins inflating it while listening with her stethoscope. She notes his systolic pressure and hits the release valve, turning when she catches motion out of the corner of her eye. The mare barely holds back a snort when she finds him looking back at her with his cheeks puffed, eyes bugged out, and ears slowly deflating like the cuff on his tail. She huffs in amusement and notes his diastolic pressure, remarking, “Always gotta do something, don’t ya?”

A cheeky grin is his answer.

“Temperature, blood pressure, unmodified heart rate… if I didn’t know better I’d swear you’re still an earth pony. I suppose that makes sense, given,” she trails off waving vaguely at his physique.

“Yeah, not much changed with my stature when all this,” he briefly lifts his wings, “happened.”

“Right. I would expect a unicorn, bat, or pegasus to thicken up somewhat, but if you already have an earth pony’s build then there’s not much to add.”

“Pretty much. Just a few accessories and some different choppers.”

“Oh, right! Open up and say ‘Ahh.’” The colt complies, allowing her to illuminate his mouth with her horn. “Yep. From the inside of your mouth I would assume you were a bat. I’m guessing the forked tongue is just you messing with me?”

His shoulders sag as he groans lightly in disappointment.

“Hop down and push against that with one hoof,” she instructs and projects a shield panel.

Cure braces and lightly pushes, pausing to ask, “How hard should I push?”

“As hard as you -” he latches onto the ground, ups his mass as much as he can, and pushes forward as hard as possible, nearly falling when the panel pops - “FUCK!” she yelps, wincing and rubbing at her horn with her fetlock. “What the Tartarus, colt?!”

“Sorry, doc!” He hops over and nuzzles into her chest, looking up with genuine concern. “You okay? Need me to help?”

“I’m fine,” she insists, blinking a couple times before looking down at him. She wraps a hoof around him to calm him down and apologizes. “Sorry I yelled like that. I didn’t expect that.”

“Doc, really… I totally get it. A naughty word ain’t gonna hurt my feelings, ya know? If you want me to, I can fix ya right up.”

“Nah. It’s okay, really,” she insists, waving the concern away with her hoof. “What did you do?”

“Pushed hard?” he answers questioningly.

She sighs again and jots down another note. “I should have made it tougher given how strong you are. That was on me.”

“You sure you’re okay?”

“Yeah. I’ll just go ahead and mark down that you’re all good when it comes to strength. I guess I could have skipped that section.”

“Definitely.”

“I wouldn’t mind taking you to the therapy area to get hard numbers, but that’s not urgent. Stand at that line,” she releases him and waves at the floor, then motions to an eyesight chart on the wall opposite him, “and read the lowest line you can.”

Cure approaches the line, noting a second chart against the wall in front of him. The letters at the top start off about the same size as the bottom row of the farther one. He looks over his withers and cocks a brow at the doctor.

“Let me guess, you can read the whole chart?”

“Easily. What’s this one for?” He asks, pointing to the one right over his head.

The doctor ignites her horn and grabs onto the chart opposite him. She moves it aside to reveal a mirror angled to show the chart over his head. “How about now?”

“Ah. Crafty.” Dr. Care watches closely, eyes widening when the colt’s scleras seem to rotate. “C. O. N. G… wait, congrats?”

“Yep. Congrats. You have better than perfect vision. For a griffon,” she finishes in a deadpan.

“Oh. Neat. For the record, a normal alicorn’s vision isn’t any better than a pegasus in daylight and more or less the same as a bat’s in low light. I modified my eyes so I can zoom in like an eagle,” he explains, demonstrating the effect again.

“Huh. That’s useful for a flyer, I suppose.”

“Very much at higher altitudes,” he agrees. “At this distance all it’s good for is counting how many nose hairs ya got.”

“I…” she pauses, brows furrowed. “That seems somewhat less useful.”

He shrugs and bobs his head in agreement.

“Are you okay with giving samples?” She waves back to the table silently asking him to hop back on. While he’s doing so she opens a cabinet door and retrieves a tray of sample containers.

“Blood?”

“Blood, urine, saliva, a feather, a small shaving of your horn and a hoof, a cut of your mane, tail, and a few strands of your coat. If you don’t mind, that is.”

Nodding along as the doctor lists everything, Cure assures her, “All of that’s fine. Just gimme a minute on the urine sample. I’ll have to whip some up real fast.”

The mare blinks in surprise at the odd statement. Head cocked in confusion, she opens her mouth, only to fail to come up with a good response. “Pardon?”

He reaches up and bonks himself on the head. “Yeah, my bad there! I kinda forgot and did a whole system purge right after lunch.” He pats his belly and says, “I only have a smidge in the ‘ol bladder at the moment.”

“Cure… I ate with you.”

“Uh huh.”

“And then we came here.”

“Right.”

“I didn’t notice a line of pee trailing behind you on the way.”

“I hope you would have said something right away if you had. I don’t pee anymore, doc.”

She goes wide-eyed and shouts, “Alicorns don’t pee?!”

“No, no, we do,” he insists, waving his hooves side to side. “I mean, I would, normally, but pee is just about pure water, so I just Transmute the contaminants and recycle it instead of literally pissing it away. I do something similar with poop. I haven’t used the bathroom for a couple months now.

“Don’t get me wrong, there’s times where I kinda miss that euphoric release when you hold it in too long, but simply not having to go potty at all is like… sooo convenient! Ya know, now that I think about it, I probably have the cleanest butthole on the entire planet. Go me!” he cheers, clapping overhead in a self high-hoof.

“I admit, I haven’t asked the boss lady about her toileting, but I’m assuming even her highness has to potty about as often as any other mare. Presumably with the utmost poise and grace.”

“But… how in Tartarus are you transmuting stuff inside yourself?!”

“Magic?” The flat look tells the colt that his answer is somehow insufficient. “I can just sprout a horn.”

“Right, I’ve seen you retract yours.”

“Internally, I mean. Or externally.”

“You have two horns?”

“Umm… right this moment, yes. I can have as few or many as I want, though. You do realize I’m capable of full-on shapeshifting, right?”

“Huh. I’ve seen you do small stuff, but I guess I hadn’t considered the possibility. How do you deal with things like…” she drifts off in thought. “I guess blood flow isn’t much of an issue if it’s only a few seconds, is it?”

“Nope. Just gotta deaden the nerves for a moment. I normally keep pain receptors off most of the time when I’m out anyhow.”

“Okay. How about that wing thing? I’ve seen you pull stuff out from one or the other wing sometimes. How are you doing that?”

“Spatial pouches under my skin. I keep extra biological material in there along with some knick-knacks.” Cure lifts his right wing and starts withdrawing his spare parts supply. Just like he’d shown his unicorn friends, he pulls out griffon talons and a beak and sets them on the examination table. He doesn’t stop there, laying out a set of paws, Ferric’s staff, a feline muzzle, hands, a griffon tail, his sword, and an elephant’s trunk that matches his normal blue coat color.

Dr. Care stares impassively until the last item is sat down. As soon as he pulls out the trunk she steadfastly refuses to look and, instead, stares him in his eyes. “Damnit, Cure! I know about the stupid coronation prank! You don’t have to show me your spare… unit!”

The colt can’t help but laugh aloud as he picks up the harmless snout. “It isn’t what you think it is, doc!” He slaps the end of it on his own and alters the colors to the typical gray, then waves it in the air for her to more easily see. “It’s a trunk, ya goof! Good thing yer not a vet, huh?”

“Oh. Well. Now I just feel dumb.”

Eyebrows wagging, Cure points the trunk straight out. “Seems a little small for that, dontchya think?”

“Maker above,” she sighs, rubbing her brow with her pastern. “I feel a deep well of sympathy for whoever you marry.”

“Shit, doc, they couldn’t get any luckier. I showed the princess this once. It’s totally harmless and not the slightest bit inappropriate. Would you be okay with me demonstrating something on your ear?” he asks, pointing to her left ear with his new trunk.

“Umm… okay?”

Just like he had for Celestia, he uses his talent to massage her ear muscles and causes every pleasurable nerve ending in the area to fire off at full force. The mare moans out loud and immediately begins leaning into the phantom feeling. Cure has to stop and catch her with telekinesis so she doesn’t face-plant. “Sweet Celestia,” she slurs, regaining her balance and crashing down onto her haunches. “Please… don’t do that again, ever.”

“Not unless ya ask nicely,” he teases.

“Freakin nine years old,” she sighs, shaking her head. “You’re way too much like an adult, colt.”

Cure bobs his head in agreement and gives her a “what can you do” shrug. He starts putting away his assortment of items, including the trunk, and asks, “So, got the sample kits nearby?”

She nods and turns to open a cabinet door and pulls out a tray of sample collection cups. It takes her a moment to label each one before passing them to the young alicorn. “Here ya go. Do you need any pri… never mind,” she sighs, watching as Cure removes the lids from the blood and urine containers, tucks the cups under a wing, does a full-body shudder and lets out a content “Ahhh,” and pulls them back out filled to the line with his fluids.

“You put them in the wrong ones, dummy,” she points out.

Cute checks the labels and, sure enough, he put blood in the urine cup and vice versa. “Whoops!” he exclaims, tucking them both back under his wing.

“No! Wait!” she belatedly yells, groaning when the cups disappear from sight. “I could have just switched the labels!”

“Oh. Well, problem solved anyhow,” he says, capping then passing her the now corrected cups.

She sighs again and shakes her head, then reaches for the swabs for the saliva sample. Cure floats the bottle over, opens it, dumps the swabs out, and opens his mouth. His tongue snakes out and up, arching so it points down to hover over the bottle held in his magic. The end opens like a budding flower and spurts a glob of saliva into the cup before, like somepony yanked on it, whipping back into his mouth.

“That’s not where saliva...” she starts, then shakes her head and moves on. “That was even more bizarre than the other samples. And, somehow, the trunk.”

“Nopony likes a kink shamer, doc.”

“Cure… just… no. Give me some hair and feather samples and, I swear, if you do something weird I’ll hold you down and pluck them myself.”

Cure gives the mare a challenging look.

She narrows her eyes in warning.

“Oh yeah?”

“You’re damn right, colt!” she growls. “Just try me!”

He stands, takes off his crown, spreads his wings wide, and with a mighty snout-to-tail shake, every hair, feather, piece of his tail, and strand of his mane flies off in a cloud of gold and brown. The mare recoils in horror, watching as uncountable pieces of hair and hundreds of feathers float slowly to the ground a cloud, somehow not landing on the colt at all. He stands smirking victoriously with every centimeter of his body completely bare and redons his crown.

Standing triumphantly he meets her eyes and throws his forelegs wide, shouting, “Bring it on, doc!”

Shortly after sunset

“Cure?” Celestia calls in a worried tone.

She lets out a breath of relief when the colt hops up and wraps her his customary hug, calling out, “‘evenin, princess!” as he does.

She embraces him with a wing and lays down, confessing, “When I felt your presence in the astral I was concerned. Did something happen?”

“Nothing I would call urgent,” he insists, settling between her forelegs with his rump against her chest. “We’ve never really talked about procedure here, so I figured I should give you a heads-up on something I encountered earlier. I don’t know if you know Lady Willow Bush,” he pauses and looks up for her response.

“Yes?” she answers with a questioning lilt. “Her family has served as counselors and advisors to the office of the mayor for generations. Her dam has been the Baltimare City Auditor for over a decade, and she, herself, has served on the provincial Nutritional Advisory Board overseeing the Baltimare region for… I believe six years now.”

Cure nods along, confirming what Dr. Care had told him during lunch. “She’s beating on her dude.”

Caught off guard by the blunt statement, Celestia blinks in surprise and tilts her head. “Excuse me?!”

Cure shrugs and gives a slow nod. “Yeah. He came to the ER today because he,” Cure mimes air quotes, “‘slipped getting out of the shower.’ The problem being the injuries were from being kicked, and not in a way he could pull off without flexibility I wouldn’t expect from a typical stallion. Or a pony at all, for that matter.”

“That… is a serious accusation. They have three young foals, if I’m not mistaken.” She pauses to look down at the smaller alicorn and amends, “I suppose young is relative. The oldest is approximately your age.”

“According to Mr. Flourish they are completely unharmed and, allegedly, unaware of the whole thing. I’m doubtful of the latter, but that’s neither here nor there. I expect you’ll get the full detailed report from… well, somepony. The captain or Lt. Quill?” he half asks.

“Captain Stance,” she confirms with a nod.

“’kay. Well, as best I can tell this has been going on for a while. I can’t say how long, but he’s definitely taken a shot or two in the ribs as well as his right hip in the past. Nothing above the shoulders, at least. I patched him up good as new and gave Dr. Care pictures and a list of all the injuries I could find.”

Celestia sighs and shakes her head in disappointment. “Such a shame. I’ve only met her husband on a couple occasions, but he always seemed such a sweet, gentle stallion.” She takes a deep breath and slowly exhales. “Once the investigation concludes I will issue a summons for Lady Bush, assuming you are correct, of course.”

“Yeah, I’m pretty confident I’m right. The doc said this isn’t their first rodeo, but she throws her weight around, insisting she not be separated from him. That scares and-or shames the dude into keepin his mouth shut, so nothin ever went anywhere. Well, she couldn’t pull that crap with me, so tough luck.”

An errant thought occurs to the colt, so he looks up to the princess and asks, “Hey, she won’t be able to bully the guards into saying something different, will she?”

“Absolutely not,” she strongly insists, “especially now that you have made me aware.”

“Good. I did tell her I would be informing you, so hopefully she won’t even try. I’ll be more than a little miffed if anypony tries to sweep this under the rug.”

“As will I,” she readily agrees. “I will let you know when I see the report.” She nuzzles the right side of his face and assures him, “You did the right thing, informing me. I do not mind, but in the future so long as you have been able to address the immediate problem you do not need to go out of your way to tell me right away. I trust you can deal with such situations well enough.”

“Thanks, Celestia,” he says, happy to return the affection. “I’ll hold off until our normal sessions from now on unless the need is more urgent.” He takes a deep breath and blows out a long sigh, glad to officially hoof the matter over for now. “So… now that the important stuff’s outta the way, did I catch you in the middle of anything?”

“Worry not, Cure. You were not interrupting anything important. I had just settled in to read before bed when I felt your presence. I do not, however, have any urgent updates for you on anything. The package with your revitalization treatments, as well as the antifungal agent, arrived on Wednesday. Needless to say, the former caused quite a stir when I presented it to the researchers.”

“I would imagine so. Hopefully I won’t show up to Canterlot next time and find my likeness slapped all over every medical building.”

“No promises,” she teases.

“Awesome,” he deadpans. “By the way, my parents said yes to Detrot for the births. Amy will probably come with me at first, but everypony else wants to come visit at some point, especially my dam. They’ll all probably head over on the second or third weekend just to visit for a day or two, but I figure if we’re going to have thousands of high risk dams all traveling at once I may not have a lot of free time.”

“I certainly did not intend to ask you to work for an entire month without breaks, Cure. Dams will be arriving three to four weeks before their due date, so while there is a great deal of urgency, given the circumstances, there will be sufficient time for you to have days to recover. Alicorn or not, you are still a foal not ten years old, after all.”

“Okay. That sounds good to me.”

“If I may make a suggestion?”

“Anytime, boss.”

“Why not have them come to Canterlot? They can arrive on a Thursday evening, rest at the castle Friday, then you can join them Friday evening for dinner and sleep in your own bed. Even for a pegasus the flight from Detrot is less than half an hour, so you could easily be here in time.”

“That sounds great, princess! I’m sure everypony will be super excited to see you again. Don’t worry about my sire. He’s not the jealous type, so if you wanna bring your dude along I can guarantee he won’t give ‘em the ol’ shovel speech or anything.”

“I am inordinately relieved,” she flatly comments.

“Speakin of seeing you again, have you decided about next Friday?”

“I… don’t think I'll be attending, Cure,” she sighs. “It does sound like a fun evening, but I had hoped to see if I could happen upon Comet again.”

“That’s the dude’s name? Comet?” Don’t make a reindeer joke. Don’t make a reindeer joke.

“It is,” she confirms, a faint smile crossing her lips.

“Oooo… Celestia’s got it baaaaa-aaad! Tia and Comet sittin in a tree,” he teasingly sings, only stopping when she maturely responds with a raspberry.

“It has been many a century since you will have found me in a tree, young colt,” she haughtily declares.

“Not even a tree house?”

She scoffs and shakes her head no. “They do not typically build those alicorn-sized. Especially me-sized.”

“Just outta curiosity, and this is one of those things we can’t discuss in more detail here, are there large, hollowed-out trees that can, effectively, double as a building?”

Celestia is taken aback at the odd question. She ponders for a moment before slowly nodding. “In the minotaur lands exceptionally skilled druids are said to make their homes in such structures. I have never been in one myself, but I understand most of them to be somewhat cramped, even with a talented practitioner; more proof of their proficiency than practical, I would say.”

“Wait a second. The asshole ambassador called me an abomination that perverts nature, but their most skilled magicians use trees as a home? What the hay, boss?!”

“It is different from what you do. They do not change the tree, as such, but instead encourage it to grow in the needed shape from the moment it is planted. The process does not alter the basic properties of the tree, only its size and shape. And, I suppose, its health. Those trees are said to live for centuries; possibly indefinitely if the druid’s family continues caring for them.

“You, on the other hoof, alter the fundamental nature of what you use for your creations. I do not want you to think I am in any way agreeing with Ambassador Quickhorn’s behavior, especially given your youth, but his argument about the way you change things is not wholly inaccurate.”

“Eh, I know that. Doesn’t make him any less of a prick for acting like that.”

“It certainly does not,” she immediately agrees.

“Hrm. Well, I may need to make a trip over to Ponyville at some point in the next few decades then. I bet I could find an excuse at some point while I’m livin in Canterlot during school.”

“Hmm. Perhaps you can explain further next time you visit.”

“You bet. Good luck hunting down your dude, boss. If you end up wanting me to give him the deluxe upgrade just give me a holler.”

“Deluxe upgrade?”

“Oh yeah, absolutely! So far my pa’s the only stallion on the planet with the deluxe upgrade. I offered it to Solar but he seems perfectly content with the standard equipment. A shame, really, given how much my moms - and my sire, for that matter - all seem to appreciate it. With gusto, even. Trust me, boss, once you make that leap you’ll never look back.”

Celestia closes her eyes and sighs while shaking her head. “I believe your offer may be premature, Cure.”

“That just happens to be one of the problems the deluxe upgrade addresses!”

“Goodnight, Cure,” she calls, ignoring his last statement entirely.

“Goodnight, Celestia,” he returns, sitting up and twisting to give her a hug. “And remember the three date rule, boss. I’m rootin for ya!” he cheers before popping out of existence.

Author's Note

Poor Cure. He just wants to help! The boss lady doesn't know what she's missing out on, but she'll come around eventually. Maybe.

And with that chapter LFaW has broken the million word barrier. If I was a better planner maybe that would have happened on a more epic note or something, but... meh. I'll take it. I am about 2/3 the way through 90 and have 91 and 92 somewhat planned out. I'm thinking I'll keep up the every-other-week schedule for a while until I can build a backlog up again and/or I have more free time to write.

We'll start seeing some more 1, 2, or more week jumps in the dates as I hold back some ideas I have until Cure gets a bit older. The format I am envisioning will be more skips and bunches where the day-to-day life happens in the background, but when something big comes up it may take two or three chapters to explore. Of course, I've said this a half dozen other times, and here we are... The original plan was to have him be an adult about 700k words in and we're at 1.5x that in less than a year. Oh well, it's worked so far.

As always, thanks for reading. Enjoy!

Chapter 90: Memorable Shows (NSFW)

Author's Note

I was going to release this next week, but it's ready now and I don't think I'll have an abundance of free time on Christmas Day, so you all get it a week early.

This is a busy chapter with lots of ponies (nearly the whole Golden Hills cast), so it's... yeah... busy is the right word, I suppose. I tried to avoid it being overwhelming, but that's not easy to achieve with so many moving parts.

As for the "likely NSFW" part, it isn't really a clop situation, but still is NSFW enough I figured a warning is appropriate. Cure witnesses an intimate moment. Be warned - I didn't place any in-chapter warnings before it starts. It should be pretty obvious, but just in case, you could skip from the "Saturday, August 8th, 909 AB (shortly after midnight)" to after the chunk of quoted text. You won't lose out on much, story-wise.

It's times like this that I wish the site could support both top and bottom author's notes. Oh well, the chapter will just have to speak for itself, I suppose.

Oh right! Last chapter I left a comment saying I had toyed with one of those AI generated image things. If you want to see a sorta-kinda depiction of Cure in his day-to-day earth pony appearance go ahead and dig through there.

As always, thanks for reading, and especially for the comments and ratings.

Enjoy!

EDIT: Here's the comment regarding Cure's AI-Generated picture so it appears in-story:
Somewhat close-ish depiction of Cure Wave in his normal, day-to-day earth pony disguise. I lack the photoshop skills to add his cutie mark in, but you get the idea. Hopefully this link won't die too fast...

This was made with Imagine with Meta AI. Link: https://imagine.meta.com

I kinda envision ponies having shorter barrels and slightly less horse-like faces. I dunno. It may just be that we're in that uncanny valley area where it's not cartoon-like enough to be a cartoon but too cartoon-y to be real life. All in all, not bad.

Chapter 90: Memorable Shows (NSFW)

Friday, August 7th, 909 AB (7 days later)
Shortly after dinner

Plugged into his plant, Cure spots the familiar and familial herd from halfway down the street. He finishes spreading the roots underground and gives the plant instructions to continue expanding downwards before he disconnects. Making his way down the stairs to the door, he calls out to his parents, “The unicorns are comin! Load the crossbows! Heat up the tar! They ain’t takin us alive!”

He opens it to a quartet of unimpressed looks. Plastering on an exaggerated smile, he enthusiastically greets, “I mean… uhh… Hi, everypony! Come on in! So nice to see you all again!”

“Good afternoon, your highness,” Haze flatly intones, “I hope you’re only teasing,” he says as he enters, warily looking around, “but with you I can never be sure. No poisonous dart plants ready to pop, I hope?”

“No ambushes this time, sarge. Probably. Howdy, Mrs. Aura!” he chirps, hopping over to nuzzle against the mare’s chest and shoulder.

“Hello, Cure,” she greets, stiffly reaching over to give him a quick squeeze of a hug. She at least makes an attempt to be friendly, but he can still smell the hint of fear she exudes. The mare’s disposition has improved somewhat after suffering a setback following his coronation. Despite him being perfectly happy letting bygones be bygones she still acts like she has to walk on eggshells around him.

She did accept a hippogriff hug from the colt and even admitted wing hugs are “quite comforting,” but their relationship seems to be stuck at the polite-but-distant setting no matter how friendly he tries to be. That’s fine as far as he’s concerned. She is his fillyfriend’s dam; it’s not like she has to adore him, even if he knows he’s irresistibly adorable.

“Heya, Sunrise,” he calls, sharing a full-cheek nuzzle with the orange filly that turns into a brief chest-to-chest neck hug. The sound of hoofsteps on the stairs behind him signals his parents are starting to make their way down. As Dawn slips by into the house Cure greets the young stallion with an outstretched foreleg. “Solar, I’m kinda surprised to see you here,” he says, getting a hoofbump from the young stallion. “You’re going with ’em tonight?”

“Sure am. Star and Prism are meeting us at the station in Baltimare.”

“Oh? The roommate’s taggin along, huh?” he leans closer and nudges Solar’s chest with a fetlock. “Way ta go, stud! Are you three makin it official?”

“Uhh…”

“C’mon, bro, I have a better sniffer than a bloodhound.” He motions his head back towards the adults and says, “I can smell yer dam’s nervousness every time I’m around her.” With waggling brows he adds, “I’ve caught her roommate’s scent on ya enough times that there’s no mistakin it. You ain’t foolin me, dude.”

Solar winces at the colt’s observation, but with no way to deny it gives in with a shallow nod. “She just… doesn’t have a coltfriend right now, that’s all. That and the two of them get along really well -”

“I gathered.”

He scowls at the interruption, “- and, of course, I’m off to Maelstrom in a few weeks, so they’ve both been looking forward to going out tonight.”

Cure offers an easy shrug, saying, “Hey, that’s fine. I’m certainly not trying to discourage you, bro. It’s not like I have any room to talk, after all. Any idea what Star’s doing when you ship out? I know her lease is up soon.”

The stallion’s shoulders sag slightly at the reminder. “She’ll probably renew it. We were going to get an apartment together, but with Artillery School…” he trails off with a sigh.

“Did she consider going to Chicoltgo with you?”

“She can’t. Well, she could, but her job and everypony she knows is here. Besides, I won’t even be there a full year before I come back... or get shipped somewhere else.”

“That kinda sucks. Any idea when you’ll get a break long enough to visit? Can you at least come back every few weekends or something?”

“Not really. If I left Friday night I could be here Saturday morning, but I would have to leave that evening to be sure I’d get back before Monday roll call. I won’t get a break until December, and even then it’ll only be for three weeks around Hearth’s Warming.”

“Well…” the colt’s face twists in annoyance, “Shit.”

Solar blows out a commiserating sigh. “I know.” He pauses to look over his withers when he detects the pegasi coming in for a landing a ways behind him. The young stallion gives Cure a playful bump with his shoulder as he walks by, saying, “I wouldn’t worry about it too much. Everything will work out. You try to have fun tonight too.”

“You bet,” he calls as the stallion joins the others inside the house.

Cure turns back to the approaching pegasi for a quick head count. Wind Shear didn’t tag along, but the youngest fillies of each family are accompanying them, so she must have somehow avoided foalsitting duty. Just like Heavy’s twin sisters, Frigid Glaze and Swirling Leaf are at the age where pegasi are usually not carried on their parents’ backs for short trips anymore. Assuming they’re awake, that is.

He calls out in greeting as they approach the house, getting a warm wing hug from Thunder, a more demure one from Snowstorm, affectionate nuzzles from both of the girls, and a couple masculine hoof bumps from the stallions. Both dams are showing, though it isn’t nearly as obvious on a mare at this point as it would be on a woman. A quick check shows that all four colts are in great shape, as are the ladies themselves.

As they’re making their way in the house, Rising shows up with her dam, Crisp Script, carrying her saxophone in its case on her back and skipping merrily. “Yo, RP, Miss Script. You look unusually excited today,” he observes.

“You’re not going to believe what happened!!!” the filly squeals, launching herself at him in a tackle hug. With his quicker than normal reflexes, he easily catches her out of the air and the two end up nearly belly to belly in a sitting hug with her bouncing eagerly on her rump. The effect when both participants are nude and furry is a little more intimate than he suspects she intended. Oddly ignorant of his goods basically snuggled against her lower tummy, the ecstatic filly continues on. “Remember my instructor wanted me to play for somepony?!”

“Yeah… was that this week? How’d it go?”

“FANTASTIC! The pony she wanted me to meet? It was Missus! Resonant! Sonata!” she exclaims, shaking the colt with each part of the mare’s name. He does his best to convey excitement, but the filly immediately realizes he has absolutely no clue who the hay Resonant Sonata is. Shaking him more violently, she explains, “She’s the band director and a music instructor at Baltimare University!”

Her dam chimes in, adding, “She was very excited about Rising’s potential. With diligent practice my little sunflower could easily make their band in a few years when she applies. She even suggested a partial scholarship may be available!”

“Wow! I don’t know much about college bands and stuff, but it sounds like a heck of an opportunity. Congrats, RP!”

In lieu of a verbal response, she grabs him by the neck and plants a soft, warm kiss on his cheek, then releases the stunned colt and skips through the door to tell her other friends, tail wagging like an eager puppy with each swing of her hips. The colt sits there bewildered, watching as the other three fillies squeal in excitement and ponypile on the girl. Script chuckles, gives the colt a knowing look, and quickly nuzzles his mane as she walks by to join the other parents.

Snapping out of his daze, Cure begins to close the door only to pause when he spots the remainder of the earth pony contingent on their way. Ferric, Sapphire, Coast, Heavy, and all of their parents are trotting in his direction while his twin sisters flit about around the group.

The gray colt’s dam is carrying his youngest sister, Berry Blitz, on her withers. The filly inherited her mom’s dark blue coat and the same silver as her sire in her mane. She’s the same age as Savvy and the two get along like a house on fire whenever they’re together.

Onyx Mark is dressed in a dapper suit vest with a deep purple shine to it along with a matching hat. Slightly more angular and less deep than a fedora, the hat sits further back on his head with the bill fitting perfectly between his ears. The black strip around the base of the crown is a nice addition. As silly as ponies normally look in clothes, Cure can’t deny the stallion looks good in the outfit; it adds a bit of color to his dark coat and mane.

Sapphire’s mom, Midnight Gem, must have spent a fair amount of time in front of the mirror. Cure isn’t sure how pony makeup works, what with the coats and all, but she’s painted up and ready for battle with purple eyeliner slightly darker than her coat and blue polished hooves to match her mane. Thankfully she isn’t decked out in a bunch of jewelry this time; Cure knows they’re all going to a somewhat upscale nightclub near the water, but wearing jewelry beyond maybe a set of earrings to a bar just sounds like a bad idea.

Diamond Pick is trotting on Onyx’s other side. The deep maroon mare did her hooves in a jet black polish to match her mane, but is otherwise unadorned.

Coast’s dam, Level Plane, must have gone to the groomers to prepare for the evening. Her bright green coat nearly shines in the sunlight and her deep blue mane is curled and bound with a white flowery band laced through it.

“Hey!” Cure calls back into the house, “Everypony else is here! Y’all ready to head out?”

Various shouts of “All set” chorus back as the procession of adults makes its way back out.

“Behave yerself, sport,” his sire says as he strolls by, giving Cure a playful shove on the way.

“You behave yourself, pa. Don’t overdo it, okay? It’s been a minute since you’ve drank without that gland, so don’t make yerself sick.”

“Please, colt,” he says, rolling his eyes. “Ain’t nothin out there yer pa can’t manage jus’ fine.”

“Uh huh. Yer gonna be sick as a dog tomorrow, ya worn down plug.”

“Plug yer flappin jaw,” his sire scoffs.

“You’re sure you don’t want one of us to stay, honey?”

“Totally and completely. It’s all under control, dam. Yer worryin too much. I mean… What could possibly go wrong? I’ve planned for any eventuality! Even if something did happen I’m sure I could manage it just fine. I am, after all, an all-powerful alicorn, ya know! There’s not a thing to be concerned about.” The repeated tempting of fate earns him a disappointed look and a sigh.

Title snorts out a laugh as she passes by, nudging her wife with her shoulder. “They’ll be fine. C’mon babe.”

Vines watches her for a second before turning back. “We’ll be too far for the Sending crystals, so if you need us you’ll have to fly a kilometer or two before they’ll work.”

“I know, dam,” he says, rolling his eyes. “Nothing will happen. Go. Have fun,” he insists, shooing her away.

She leans down and kisses his brow, then turns to catch up to the others, calling back, “Be good for Ferric, okay?”

“Be good for Ferric?! What the hay?” More quietly he grumbles, “I’m the friggin prince here…”

“Wait, I’m in charge?” he hears the dark filly ask from the front nursery room just opposite the stairs.

When he walks in the room he finds the pegasi all piled on a couch save Glacial, who is using her wing to entertain Golden. Dawn is laying with Blazer between her forelegs snuggled into her chest and neck just like he does with Celestia. Rising wisely put her sax in a closet before laying next to Dawn. Sapphire seems content to entertain Cherry and Lotus by puppeting a few plush toys to make them talk and dance.

“That’s bunk! I’m just as old as you are!” Drift instantly argues.

“Yeah, Ferric,” he agrees as he sits by the room’s entry. “Drift is in charge of everything.” The larger filly deflates a tiny bit while the pegasus preens, thrusting her chest out proudly. “That means she gets to change diapers and make sure the foals are fed,” he adds. “After all, if there were an adult here that would be their job, right?”

“Sounds right to me!” Sapphire eagerly agrees. “Drift gets to do everything while we go play!”

The purple filly’s eyes bug out at the suggestion and she quickly shakes her head no. “No way! That’s your job! I’m deliberating, err, delegate… wait… yeah, Delegating! I’m delegating that to you. That’s what leaders do,” she insists with a firm nod. “Besides, almost all of ‘em are your siblings anyhow!”

“Terrible wife material,” Sapphire tisks, shaking her head in disappointment. Drift shoots the aqua filly a warning glare that is completely ignored.

“What is the plan for tonight?” Dawn asks as she nuzzles onto Blazer’s back. The young colt rolls over, happy to latch onto her snout and coo up at her.

“Well these four,” he waves to Savvy, Goldie, Blaze, and Berry, “are too young to really do much with, but Frigid, Swirling, Summer, Cherry, Lotus, and Farty,” he pauses to catch the yellow filly futily trying to tackle him, “are all within a couple years of each other. Summer?” he calls the yellow filly. “I have some playground equipment I put together out back last night. How about you be in charge of the younger foals?”

Fall Thunder thrashes in Cure’s grip, shouting, “Let me go, Fart Wave! I should be the one in charge!”

The colt looks between Drift and the girl in his grip and asks, “Are you two freakin related or something?”

“Hey!” both simultaneously shout. The nearly identical reaction gets some thoughtful, curious looks from the other foals.

“That’s tribalist!” Sapphire teasingly shouts. “Not every pegasus is related, Cure!”

The colt scoffs and rolls his eyes, completely dismissing the accusation. “Whatever. I’ll make you a deal, Fall,” he calmly says. She pauses and looks up at him with a scowl. He sets her down and continues, “If you play nice, and this includes the rest of you,” he pans his gaze over the other young fillies, “I have a very special treat for everypony tonight. I was going to share this one with my family first, but I can’t think of a better way to entertain a bunch of foals than a show.”

Murmurs of confusion sound out throughout the room. “What kind of show?” Rising asks. More excitedly she adds, “Are you going to sing or something?”

“Not exactly, but there are a few songs involved. That’s for later though. How’s this sound? I set up a volleyball net for us older foals. We’ll play a few short games four on four. I’ll also set up a little pen, and whoever is sitting out can entertain the yutes -”

“The what?” Drift interrupts. A few of the other foals slowly repeat the word as if tasting it.

“The yutes,” he says, motioning to the infants.

“Are you saying… ‘yutes’ like… youths?” Dawn asks with a pinched face.

“Fine! The YOUTHS. The odd pony out watches the YOUTHS, friggin Joe Pesci ova hea, while we go a few rounds, then I need a couple volunteers to make a snack run to the store down the road,” he points a hoof back to the door, “to get some popcorn, drinks, and whatever other treats, then I’ll put on a show for everypony.”

Dawn gives him an up-down look and, with narrowed eyes, asks, “What kind of show, exactly?”

Cure reaches into his mane and holds a couple crystals out, offering them to the girl. She levitates them over and inspects them. “Greater Illusion?”

“Yep!”

Lotus and Cherry gasp as one then eagerly shout, “MOVIE NIGHT!” and begin bouncing around excitedly.

The curious stares shift from the fillies to Cure and he continues his explanation, “Think of it like a play. We call ‘em ‘movies’ ‘cause I use the Illusion crystals to make pictures like drawings, ‘cept they’re moving, ya know?

“Anyhow, I’ve got a good one I think you’ll all like, even if there are some parts that don’t really make a lot of sense if ya think on it too much. I thought of it when I met the doctor over the ICU in Baltimare. She shares a name with one of the characters.”

She passes the crystals back and asks, “Why do you need two of them?”

“It’s just easier. I can have my plant charging one while I focus on maintaining the Illusion with the other, and having the spell in a crystal means I don’t need to pay attention to the casting itself, just the illusion. I’ll just have to swap ‘em out every ten minutes or so.”

“Your plant can charge crystals?”

“It’s a living thing,” he answers with a shrug. “Why couldn’t it? I do have to be connected, but that’s not much of a distraction.”

“Can it use them too?”

“Not by itself. Again, if I’m connected to it, then yes, but then I’m the one using them, not it. Sort of.”

“Cow manure,” Drift grouses.

“Yep,” he easily agrees. “Just wait till I get some farmland to really grow it. Right now I’m limiting its growth to our property, but it’s still huge. The playground and volleyball net are all parts of it that I grew overnight.”

Several of the foals look out the window on the front of the house in wonder. “Exactly how big is it?” Rising slowly asks.

Plenty of inappropriate responses flit through his mind before he finally answers, “Umm. Big. Let’s just say my parents don’t need to mow the lawn anymore.”

“The whole yard?!”

“Minus the garden,” he answers with a nod. “And it’s only on the surface level, so trees, bushes, anything underground... those are still their own thing.”

“Why?” Drift asks. “I mean, why not the garden too? I would think that would be where you’d start.”

“I did start there, actually, but I ended up having to stop right away. Since the plant is, metaphysically, an extension of myself, it was messing with my dam’s ability to use her magic on the stuff she was growing there. She prefers to be able to grow stuff normally, then sell it at the market. Besides, compared to the rest of the yard the garden itself is only a small fraction of our property.”

“Oh. That makes sense…”

“Won’t your neighbors notice?” Ferric asks. “They may wonder how a bunch of playground stuff suddenly showed up.”

“How often do you pay attention to your neighbor’s backyard?”

“Not often, I guess.”

“Me neither,” he agrees. “They’ll probably notice it and assume they just weren’t paying attention for a few days while we put it together.”

“I didn’t see you bring any milk over,” Glacial points out with a glance to Heavy.

“Mrs. Vines told my dam she had it taken care of.”

She turns to Cure and asks, “Did your moms put extra in the refrigerator?”

“Nope, just like everything else, feeding is Drift’s duty -”

“WHAT?!” she shouts, shooting up from the couch. Swirling had settled against her side for a nap and was looking none too pleased with her sister’s exuberant response.

“ - so I planned on gettin them mammaries fired up first thing so that they can be ready when the time comes. C’mere, Drift!”

All heads whip to the filly’s direction as she backs off the couch and falls on her rump. Giggles sound out from the other foals while Cure slowly approaches with one hoof outstretched and a manic smile on his face. Frigid and Swirling run away squealing as Drift backs further from the colt. “C’mon Drift, you wanted to be in charge. What’s wrong with you feeding the babies, hmm?”

Frowning deeply, the dark filly’s eyes dart back and forth between Cure’s outstretched hoof and the infants looking her way because of the commotion. As the colt comes closer her wings sag, ears droop, and tail tucks in reluctant acceptance. “If… if I have to,” she agrees, bottom lip quivering.

“Cure,” Ferric gently calls in an admonishing tone.

He stops his advance and aims a pout in her direction. “Aww, geez, Red, ya know I’m just joking.”

“You’re not being a very good friend,” she softly points out.

He sighs, nods in acceptance, and puts his hoof down.

Rising leans over and quietly whispers to Dawn, “Maybe she should be in charge.” The orange filly reluctantly nods in agreement.

Cure looks Drift’s way, and rolls his eyes as he explains, “I can make milk from the plant, ya goof. Besides, I would never do anything to somepony without their permission, and you oughta know that by now.”

Glacial gives the other pegasus a curious look and asks, “Were you really going to let him make you…” she pauses and scrunches her snout in thought. “I don’t know what the right word is.”

“Lactate,” Cure helpfully supplies. “Lactation is when dams make milk.”

The aside doesn’t even seem to register with the exasperated filly. “I thought somepony had to!” she defensively screeches.

“Aww, Drift,” the colt coos, approaching the girl and wrapping her in a hug. “It’s sweet you’d actually allow that, but never let anypony force you to do something you don’t wanna, okay? Even me. Especially me.”

“What do you mean by ‘especially’ you?” Coast questions.

Cure takes a deep breath and blows out a sigh. “It’s… a power thing, basically,” he explains, releasing Drift. “If some random pony tells you to do something that you don’t want to do, how do you respond?”

“Say no?” the girl hesitantly answers, looking to the others for support. A round of nods bolsters her confidence and she turns back to the colt more sure of her answer.

“And if they’re rich? If they’re powerful? Not just physically, but magically or politically?”

“They will probably get angry…” she guesses, snout scrunched in frustration.

“Right. They’ve gotten used to getting their way, so tellin ‘em no will tick ‘em off. I can’t end up like those ponies. I’ll have enough ponies that’ll never, ever say no to me. I need somepony I can rely on to say no when I’m acting like a butt.”

“You smell like a butt,” Fall quietly giggles.

“Says Thunder Farts over there,” he grouses. “Enough boring talk. Let’s do something fun. How about we get stinky over there,” he points to Berry, “cleaned up and go outside to play. Sound good?”

There are a number of sports that exist on Equus that are very similar to Earth equivalents. Tennis, bowling, soccer (even if it is called hoofball), and, oddly, lacrosse (a mostly pegasi sport), all exist, even if none of them have the enormous presence that professional sports had on Earth.

Volleyball is another sport that, for the most part, is unchanged between worlds. There are a few adjustments due to the quadrupedal players and some minor changes because of the different tribes’ abilities, but overall the game is mostly the same.

Winged players can’t stay in the air, but they are allowed a single downward flap motion when jumping to gain height. They can also use their wings to hit the ball, which gives them some decent extra reach, but robs them of power due to the softness of their feathers or membranes. They do need to be careful about actually hitting the ball instead of carrying it, however. Even with its advantages most pegasi avoid using their wings like that because it tends to mess their feathers up a fair amount.

Unicorns can use shield panels to bump the ball in lieu of a foreleg but may not directly control the ball at all. Shield panels also cannot be more than three hooves to a side, nor can they be more than a body length away from the unicorn projecting it. That gives them some flexibility that the others lack, but it’s a reasonable tradeoff given that, unlike other tribes, they aren’t allowed to head the ball for obvious reasons.

Earth ponies don’t have any tribe-specific rules they have to be mindful of. Because of the limitations placed on other tribes’ abilities, they tend to have the upper hoof. With greater land speed and acceleration than the others, they can get under an incoming hit faster and aren’t the least bit bothered when the ball is coming in fast.

Cure volunteers to sit out the first game so he can watch over the little ones. It only takes a few minutes for him to realize that, due to them never really playing the game before, everypony kind of sucks.

Instead of the customary twenty-one they decided to only play to eleven. Even then it took nearly half an hour for the first game to end, at which point Summer, Fall, Frigid, Swirling, Cherry, and Lotus lost all interest in the jungle gym he put together and insisted they be allowed to join in with the older foals. It went exactly as well as everypony expected.

Playing around the smaller foals was the challenge; the bigger, stronger foals had to take care not to bowl over the younger fillies. That was doubly true with the four pegasi who didn’t hesitate to throw themselves at a ball, no matter who was already trying to get to it.

Glacial did pull off one good spike and, in the play of the game, Heavy took a swing to save it, whiffed the ball, and was promptly uppercut when it bounced off the ground into his chin. It rattled his brain a bit and he fell on his rear, but aside from his pride nothing was actually injured.

After three long, incredibly pathetic games, Celestia’s sun started making its way closer to the western horizon. A quick round of Cleanings vanished away the sweat and dust, allowing Ferric, Drift, Heavy, Coast, and Sapphire to take the six fillies to the store to stock up on sweets and drinks. Cure could make fruit drinks and a variety of treats easily enough with his plant, but didn’t want to end up being a snack dispenser all night, especially while watching over the little ones and projecting his movie.

Once the small expedition returned, everypony gathered in the rear living room and pulled two couches together.

Coast and Heavy snuggle together on the far left side with a sister camping out on each of their backs. Sapphire is happy to wedge herself between the gray colt and her sister. Rising and Dawn are on the other couch with Cherry and Lotus, respectively, looking on from atop their withers, leaving Glacial and Drift to provide warm cushions for their siblings.

Standing off to the side with his staff in hoof, Cure calls down a stalk of his plant through the ceiling and sets one crystal inside it. Savvy and Berry are snuggled together in one crib by his side while the twins are in another, the four surrounded by a Sound Bubble crystal being fed magic to let sound out but not in.

The colt uses Prestidigitation to make the windows opaque, then lowers a cloth divider behind everypony to block light out from the kitchen. Unsure what to expect, the foals all watch in wonder as the young alicorn activates the other crystal and casts the room in near total darkness.

Greater Illusion is an extremely versatile spell. It allows the user to project almost anything they can think of as long as it isn’t larger than ten meters on a side. It has several advantages over television, most notable amongst them is that it is a fully three-dimensional experience. It’s also not only a visual effect. Sounds, smells, and even temperature can be conveyed, though like the lower tiered version - simply “Illusion” - physical objects will pass through the projected images as if they’re not there.

It meshes extremely well with Cure’s talent when depicting living things. Typically casters have to focus to make creature movement fluid, but with perfect replication of joints, hair, and every other biological system, Cure is able to completely bypass that limitation. The only real challenge in recreating the movie he’d chosen was remembering the lines, especially the lyrics to a few of the songs. Fortunately he had a few weeks to fill in as many blanks as possible.

With no exposure to anything resembling human media, the foals are caught unprepared when the air changes, gaining a slight chill, a mild breeze, and the scent of open grasslands. On the opposite side of the room a fake horizon begins to glow yellow. The sun slowly rises to the shouted chants of tribal song, bringing warmth and a stronger breeze to the room. Rhinos, gazelles, cheetahs, and other animals of the Zebrican plains look to the east as the music fades to the background.

“What the fuck?” Drift quietly mumbles only to immediately be shushed by everypony. The Circle of Life begins playing, Rising’s ears perking at the completely unfamiliar and original, to her, melody.

Unlike the original, zebras are completely removed from Cure’s rendition of the cartoon version of The Lion King; a necessity if he wants to avoid explaining why an intelligent species is bleating like a common animal. Gazelles, wildebeests, and impalas made suitable replacements throughout the story, so nothing significant is lost. Some minor changes in dialogue are necessary too; any reference to Africa had to be changed, for example, as did a few instances where “kids” was said instead of foals or cubs. A few cultural references also had to be adjusted to make more sense.

Regardless, all of the foals, minus the four snoozing infants, were completely captivated throughout the story. Everypony was gushing at Simba as a cub, laughing during I Just Can’t Wait to Be King and, crying when Mufasa died, cursing Scar, covering their eyes and shouting in alarm when Simba was nearly crushed, laughing even more during Hakuna Matata, blushing during Can You Feel the Love Tonight, then cheering as the hyenas turned on their former master at the end.

The entire experience was a rollercoaster of emotional excitement far more intense than Cure had anticipated. By the time it was over everypony was about ready to crash from the repeated spikes of adrenaline and a glut of burned-off sugar.

“THAT WAS AWESOME!” Fall excitedly cheers as she bounces off the walls and flies in circles overhead. The less vocal fillies all nod eagerly in agreement and start listing off the parts they liked the most. Timon and Pumbaa are, unsurprisingly, the favorite characters amongst the younger crowd.

“You absolutely have to show me those songs again!” Rising gushes. “I’ve never even heard music like that before! How in the hay did you come up with all that?!”

Cure waves his hooves in the air, answering, “Mysterious top secret stuff!” At her flat stare he explains, “Really, I can’t tell you yet. Next time we’re all in Canterlot together, maybe.”

“Why does it have to wait until we’re in Canterlot?”

“I wasn’t joking about the ‘mysterious top secret stuff.’ It’s info I’m not supposed to discuss without the princess around.” Several muzzles scrunch in thought and the colt is the subject of many a disbelieving look. “I’m serious. I think it’s my last big secret.”

Ferric gives the colt a hurt look and asks, “You’re still keeping secrets from us?”

“Well first off, everypony keeps some secrets. I mean, nopony is a completely open book. That aside, I only have one big one left,” he explains. “Or maybe two, depending on how you look at it. They’re kinda one in the same. It’s a really big deal and I really can’t talk about it without her approval. Not to mention a privacy spell I would only trust her to cast.”

Fall huffs in annoyance and says, “If it’s about you bein Prince Fartpoopface then everypony already knows!”

Cure winces slightly at the filly’s barb. He figured they weren’t quite ignorant enough that they didn’t figure it out when they were staying at the castle in Canterlot, but having her just blurt it out like that was not something he expected. “According to Princess Celestia, Prince Serpentus’ identity is a crown secret… so if you go around telling ponies who you think he is you may get in a lot of trouble.”

Her face scrunches in confusion and she says, “If it’s supposed to be a secret then how come everypony knows?!”

“Only a few ponies know, Fall,” he corrects.

“Nuh-uh. Bunches of ponies know, Fart Wave! I heard ‘em talking ‘bout you at the playground!”

Cure feels like a boulder was dropped into his gut. He would normally dismiss the filly’s claims, but when her sister slowly nods in agreement the fight completely leaves him.

“Everypony knows not to say anything,” Rising softly says, trying to head off the incoming question.

All the other foals look distinctly unformable at Cure’s probing stare. “What exactly did they say?”

The colt’s tone causes the filly’s wings to instinctively hug her sides as she shrinks down. “Just that you seem super busy working so much!” she rushes to explain.

“Dude! Calm down!” Heavy shouts, stepping between Cure and his sister.

“Sorry!” he replies with a wince. He holds his hooves up placatingly and explains, “I was just worried! I’m sorry, Fall, I didn’t mean to frighten you or anything. Or accuse anypony, for that matter.”

“A few ponies may have, possibly, kinda figured it out on their own,” Dawn speculates.

Shoulders sagging in defeat, he looks at all of his friends and almost pleadingly asks, “And none of you told me?”

“I had no idea,” Glacial quickly assures him.

Drift nods along, saying, “Me neither.”

“I don’t think any of us did,” Coast half-asks as she looks from foal to foal. One by one everypony shakes their head no.

“I don’t know that for sure!” Dawn insists. “I just wouldn’t be surprised.”

Heavy nudges his sister and asks, “Who did you hear it from, Fall?”

The yellow filly shrugs her wings and says, “I’unno. Just some mares talking at the park. They said it’ll make the town famous one day. Me ‘n Summer were playin while dam went for a quick flight when we heard ‘em.”

“Mmhmm!” her twin hums in confirmation. “We didn’t tell ‘em we know you, though!” she insists.

Sapphire trots over and wraps Cure in a hug. “Don’t worry, Wavey-poo! All the ponies in town know to keep their mouths shut! Besides, only a few hundred, give or take, actually think they know! I bet none of ‘em really know for sure!”

Ferric sighs and softly says, “That’s probably not very reassuring, Saph…”

“But… how?!” Cure asks the crowd, dismissing the crazy girl embracing him.

As if they’d planned it beforehoof, every filly save Sapphire gives him a flat look and, at the same time, asks, “Seriously?!” Heavy looks around in stunned, and slightly impressed, silence at their synchronized exclamation.

“Your business,” Glacial says. “Think of how many ponies’ eyesight and teeth you’ve fixed there.”

“Yeah! You make a fortune changing ponies’ wings. Healing wings is something only Prince Serpentus can do,” Drift adds. “There’s also your new cutie mark. It’s almost identical to your old one.”

“Your disguises all look the same,” Ferric timidly suggests. “And, like Glacial said, you’ve healed a lot of ponies. That’s how Master Angle figured it out.” She quickly adds, “Not that he would ever say anything! He really appreciates all you’ve done.”

“That’s probably it!” Dawn shouts, waving a hoof between the three that mentioned healing. “I think it was your work at the clinic. All the workers there have to have figured it out, plus however many patients you helped while you were working there, all without a disguise, too!”

“Yep! Cure Wave and Prince Serpentus both have the same talent, obviously,” Heavy quickly agrees. “Plus their schedules are opposite. You only work afternoons three days that he works at the hospital, then all day when he’s off.”

Sapphire shakes her head no and argues, “It was the trips to the capital, I bet! He goes, meets the princess, comes back, then goes again and, BOOM!” she shouts, “New alicorn,” she says, prodding at his flattened wings then going cross eyed staring at his blank forehead.

Coast adds her two bits, explaining, “I bet a lot of ponies also suspected something when they saw a group of foals running around and getting in great shape super quick. We went from average to really trim in only a couple months, then the same thing happened to a bunch of the guards in town, all right before ‘Prince Serpentus’ showed up. Then a brown unicorn helped with the births here. The princess made a really big deal about you doing that in Canterlot too.”

Rising nods in agreement and adds, “Don’t forget anypony at the restaurant could have overheard your speech about your trees. We probably should have closed those doors,” she admits with a cringe.

“Oh yeah!” Heavy exclaims, “Everypony in the neighborhood that was watchin for nobles probably figured it out too!”

“But… not everypony can know!” he whines. “Nopony’s said a word to me! Or my parents!”

Sapphire leans back and gives him the most sympathetic, disappointed look she can. “Oh bluey, I don’t think anypony is dumb enough to actually say something to any of us.”

“Yeah,” Lotus eagerly nods in agreement, “big brother would probably turn ‘em inside out!”

“No I wouldn’t!”

She shrugs indifferently and says, “That’s what you said you’d do if anypony hurt us.”

“That’s different!”

“And feed ‘em to his plant,” Cherry helpfully adds. “Slowly.”

A round of very judgmental looks all turn his direction. Sapphire releases him and slowly backs away, keeping her eyes on him until she’s far enough to scramble behind her sister.

“I would do the same for any of you, too!” he declares. The looks don’t abate by any significant margin. “I may be a smidge overprotective,” he admits with a pout.

“A smidge?” Drift scoffs.

He holds his hooves up mere centimeters apart, barely enough for him to peek between with one eye. “Maybe a tiny bit.”

“Either way, it doesn’t change anything,” Dawn firmly insists.

Cure’s jaw almost hits the floor. He throws his hooves up in the air and shouts, “Of course it does!”

“Anypony that knows must not be saying anything,” Ferric points out. “Just keep pretending you don’t know they know. They’ll never know for sure unless you start acting weird or tell them.”

The colt scrunches his snout in thought and, after a moment of deliberation, sags and nods in acceptance. “I guess I don’t really have much of a choice.”

“He’s going to be even more paranoid now,” Drift sighs. Coast, Glacial, Rising, and Heavy all slowly nod in agreement.

“Y’all sure do like to talk bad about me,” he pouts. “Makin me sound like some kinda paranoid nutjob.”

“Welllllll…” Dawn starts.

Huffing and looking away, the colt grouses, “See if I ever show you another movie. I had a good one based on a story from ancient Saddle Arabia too. There was a genie and a princess and an evil wizard and everything!”

Rising’s ears perk up as she asks, “Is there singing in it too?!”

“There could be,” he indignantly replies, turning away from the herd and folding his forelegs across his chest. “Maybe my sisters will tell you about it after I show them.”

Despite sensing her approach, Cure doesn’t react when the yellow filly nuzzles into his side. She turns, rearing up and rubbing her cheek up his neck and nips at the base of his ear. “Please, Cure,” she begs, eliciting a single wag from his tail. “I would REALLY like to see it someday!”

The colt only holds out a moment before sagging in defeat.

“Total pushover,” Heavy quietly snickers.

“We all know he woulda given in anyhow,” Coast whispers back.

“Quiet, all’a ya,” he weakly grumbles. Despite his grouchy tone the colt doesn’t hesitate to lean against Rising’s warmth. “I think it’s about time for us to get ready for bed. Why don’t you all go on upstairs and get ready,” he says, motioning to the younger foals, “while I get the babies all fed and changed.”

Heavy nudges his sisters with his snout and tilts his head to the stairs.

Most of the younger fillies start making their way up under the supervision of the colt and their older sisters. Sapphire and Coast both tag along too, uninterested in sticking around to help clean up the little foals.

Dawn, Ferric, and Rising stay to help, each taking a foal and following Cure to the kitchen. The colt’s horn slides into place on the way, which he then uses to open the refrigerator and float out two bottles, each with a rubber nipple on them. Dawn casts a Warming cantrip to slowly heat the pair, stopping to press them against her cheek every moment or two to check the temperature.

While she’s heating up the milk for Golden and Blazer, Cure holds a bowl underneath his plant stalk and has it dispense some yogurt with tiny chunks of granola and fruit, then passes each, along with a spoon, to Rising and Ferric once they get Savvy and Berry situated at the table.

“What is this?” the dark filly asks as she scoops up a spoonful and gives it a sniff.

“Vanilla yogurt with granola and fresh fruit. It’s a little sweet, but that’s kinda what happens when everything has a million kilos of sugar in it. Here,” he says, floating over a third, larger bowl with a pair of spoons.

They each take turns sampling the bowl between hoofing over spoonfuls to their respective charges. “It’s pretty good,” she comments. She looks and follows the stalk as it disappears into the ceiling and asks, “How the hay are you making it?”

“The same as anypony else would. I can just skip several steps. All of the steps, really. I don’t have to do all the stuff involved in growing the fruit or oats, and I don’t need to worry about spoilage or pests or whatever. I can chemically change everything so it’s just like what you’d buy in the store, so… yeah, I just have my plant grow the end product in the portions I want, then pump it down into a bowl.”

“So… couldn’t you just make food plants like your plant and feed everypony?”

“Definitely. Know anypony that’s going hungry, though?”

“No, but I know some foods are expensive.”

“They are, but, at least according to what my parents and the princess have said, there’s not really groups of ponies that simply aren’t getting enough food. There’s crown-run programs specifically to help with that. Imagine instead of a grocery store I had a massive version of this,” he motions up, “in the middle of town where everypony could come, get whatever food item they want for free, and go about their day.”

Recognizing the problem, Rising chimes in saying, “Farmers would go bankrupt.”

“Not just farmers, but also anypony that owns a supermarket, their suppliers, transport companies, the ponies that supply their hardware like Ferric, unicorns that recharge their enchantments… you get the point. The list goes on and on. I’ve already made crops that are easier for farmers to grow, but if I start makin things that completely cut them out of the supply chain then… Well, honestly, I’m not sure what all would happen.

“Making big, sudden moves that impact huge swathes of society can end up causing a whole mess of short term problems and, I’m sure, quite a few long term ones too. So… yeah, it’s a good idea, in a way, but before I do anything like that I would definitely run it by the princess first. That’s why I left all the super crop seeds with her. I trust Celestia to be better at figuring out how to introduce changes like that more than I trust myself. She’s lived through enough big changes. She definitely knows better than me how to do it without messing everything up.”

“Plus you don’t want to get blamed if something goes wrong,” Dawn teasingly remarks.

Cure shrugs and bobs his head in agreement. “You’re not wrong. Especially when the impact can be so catastrophic. I definitely don’t want one of Prince Serpentus’ first acts, or even his hundredth act, to bankrupt tens of thousands of farmers and food supply workers like I probably have for half the pharmaceutical companies out there. It would be different if ponies were starving, but nopony is, as far as I know, so there’s no need to cram my snout in there and mess it all up.”

The room falls into silence for a moment while everypony feeds their foal. Cure can’t help but smile fondly when Blazer, still slurping away, rotates his body so he’s leaning against his stomach while feeding. He once again finds himself comparing his siblings to Earth animals; at their age the analogy isn’t completely inaccurate. Savvy, on the other hoof, has been growing more and more vocal over the last few weeks. She still doesn’t converse by any stretch of the imagination, but she does talk or point at things and say their name.

He watches Rising’s heart almost melt every time she gets a spoonful of the yogurt near his sister’s mouth. The pink filly opens wide, saying “AHH!” before she closes her mouth around the spoon, then gives an appreciative “MMMM!” and a little tail wag with each bite. Every time Rising pauses for too long to take a bite herself the pink filly is quick to demand more with a shout of “ME!”

Berry, on the other hoof, is somewhat less vocal. She still hums in contentment and has started mimicking Savvy’s “AAH!” when she’s taking a bite, but she’s yet to say an actual word as far as Cure knows.

“She is sooooooooo adorable!” Rising coos, unable to resist the temptation to lean over and give her a nuzzle. The affection is returned with a giggle, but the impatient filly doesn’t wait long before staring at the still empty spoon and opening her mouth to demand her next bite. “Isn’t she a little young to be talking, though? I know you wouldn’t do anything bad, but did you like… I dunno…” she drifts off, looking to Cure in question.

“Make her smarter?”

She nods.

“Not consciously. She’s the literal definition of a healthy infant, though. She gets every need met immediately, has never been cold or hungry or messy for more than a few fleeting seconds, and gets lots of stimulation from the toys I’ve made her. Plus we talk to her normally instead of like she’s got some kinda developmental delay. Isn’t that right, Savvy Venture?”

The question draws the filly’s attention away and she turns to look even though there’s still a spoon in her mouth.

“Who’s the smartest little filly in the house? Are you a smart filly, cutie pie?!” he excitedly asks.

“Me!” she answers, nodding energetically.

“That’s right! Savvy’s the smartest girl ever!”

Just like an excited puppy, the filly hops down and, wings flapping wildly, bolts over to nuzzle-bash into her brother’s side.

“So cute!” all three witnesses squeal as one.

With one foreleg petting down Blazer and the other holding the bottle, Cure lifts his hidden wing and wraps it around his sister, squeezing the filly against his side. “Yep, Savvy’s a smart girl! She’s gonna be super rich and really famous and she’ll have a million colts all wantin to have her hoof and big brother Cure is gonna make ‘em disappear if they break her adorable little heart, isn’t he?!”

The three fillies all share a worried look.

“Uhh… Cure?” Rising calls. “You… are joking, right?”

“Hmm? Oh! Yeah, definitely. Hey, are they all done eating?” he asks, conveniently changing the subject. “We should probably get them cleaned up and ready for bed.”

The girls don’t miss the attempt in the least, but assume he’s just teasing them.

With a few flashes of his horn he has all the dishes and utensils cleaned and put back into the cabinet, then leads everypony upstairs to join the others in bed.

Saturday, August 8th, 909 AB (shortly after midnight)

Cure had been awake enough to notice when all of the parents were approaching the house, but didn’t bother actually getting up to greet them. Instead, he stayed comfortably snuggled on his left side using Heavy’s back as a pillow with Glacial spooned between his legs, Dawn resting her head on his shoulder, and Sapphire snoring away draped over his right hip. A length of vine is snaked through the pile of bodies and plugged into his back.

Glacial had suggested she and Drift tear off a piece of cloud for the younger pegasi so they didn’t get accidentally rolled over on in the night, so Frigid, Swirling, Cherry, Lotus, Fall, and Summer all spent the night sleeping on a cloud floating over by the window. The other fillies were more than a little confused when two earth ponies were able to join them, but a warm body is a warm body, so no objections were raised.

He was tempted to speak up when adult after adult poked their head in and cooed at the pile, but he figured that would just encourage them to be more disruptive.

Ultimately everypony elected to spend the night rather than walk or fly home while sloshed. The two pregnant mares didn’t drink, thankfully. Just like their daughters, the pair shot up into the sky to drag a piece of cloud down and into the house.

Four adult pegasi snuggled together on it in the back living room floating above Onyx, his wife, and the three single mares on one couch and Heavy’s parents piled up on the other. Emerald and Gleaming cozy up on one in the nursery, laying side by side with their cheeks pressed together and horns gently touching.

Cure can only assume Solar found a nice, warm, cozy place to spend the night. Maybe even two of them.

Despite being in a sleep-like state the colt doesn’t miss when the earth pony pile in the living room moves more than he would expect. Ferric’s dam rolls to her hooves and stands, carefully climbing down to sneak over to Midnight Gem, then whispers something in her ear. The purple mare snorts, gives her a nod, then rolls over to go back to sleep, snuggling closer to Coast’s dam on her other side.

With so many sources of alcohol-laden sweat and breath blasting about the room it is difficult to tell exactly how inebriated everypony is without scanning them, so he isn’t sure how harshly he should judge the situation.

Nonetheless, it strikes him as exceedingly tacky and somewhat disgusting when Diamond Pick, after seemingly securing Midnight’s questionably valid consent, climbs back on the couch and begins fellating Onyx right there on the spot. The stallion is laying on his right side and automatically lifts his left leg when his sheath starts getting probed by a warm, wet tongue.

The shocking behavior leaves the colt stunned. Not only are two other single mares on the same couch, but Heavy’s parents are sleeping on another less than a meter away and the pegasi are just overhead.

It only takes a moment until the stallion wakes and, with a few whispered words, follows the mare towards the front of the house, down the hall, and into the bathroom. The movement wakes Crisp Script who, as stealthily as she can, rolls off the couch to sneak a peek at the pair.

Cure is aware that ponies are a lot more liberal with sex than humans, but watching Rising’s dam walk straight into the bathroom and start making out with both the rail-er and rail-ee mid-thrust is still a shocker. As far as the colt is aware there wasn’t any significant prior relation between her and the other two before their foals started hanging out, but neither participant hesitates to reciprocate and welcome her into the event despite the interruption.

The colt has always gone to great lengths to avoid watching his parents screw; a near-impossibility when his “body” essentially spans the entirety of their property. He typically disconnects from his plant and, or retracts his horn when they seem to be getting started, so being able to observe a stallion pound out one mare while making out with another is a new experience, even if his viewing capability is limited to only the unicorn aura from the massive horn located in the attic.

Though nopony else fully awakens during their tryst, the colt can only assume the two unicorns’ auras are also perceiving the act and have adjusted whatever dreams they were having to something more amorous. He’s almost never seen Emerald do anything he would truly consider affectionate, but watching the blue mare lean over and start grooming her husband’s cheek fur tells him there’s plenty of love between the two.

He has a moment of worry when the mare’s tail starts to swish about, then begins to flag. Fortunately, Haze finally wakes when she nips a little too aggressively at his cheek and, after a moment of looking around in confusion, zeroes in on the closed bathroom door with the light creeping out from underneath. The red stallion groans and briefly rubs at his eyes, then notices the obvious signs of excitement coming from his wife.

Briefly worried they’re going to have a mini-orgy downstairs, Cure blows out a sigh of relief when, instead of mounting the mare and turning her dream into reality, he climbs half on her withers, and drapes his neck down beside hers and recrosses their horns before going back to sleep.

His focus no longer on the unicorns, Cure watches as Onyx finishes inside a happily glowing Diamond, dismounts her, turns the faucet on, and starts chugging away while she catches her breath. With his face under in the sink, Script saunters over and fluffs the stallion until he’s ready for round two, then turns and flips her tail up in invitation.

Ready to go again, the stallion shuts off the water and climbs on the cream mare’s rump, thrusting blindly until she reaches back and gives him a guiding hoof. The whole situation strikes the colt as incredibly unsanitary, but he knows for a fact that both mares are in perfect health and free of any of the few STI’s ponies occasionally come down with, so, yuck factor aside, he can’t really come up with any cause for legitimate concern.

With the dark stallion’s forehooves wrapped around her barrel, Script humps back in time to meet his much more powerful thrusts. Diamond steps up to the plate next, nuzzling against their sides, planting kisses on the other mare’s cheek, nipping at Onyx’s rump, and even leaning down to lick his swinging balls from behind.

The colt has to briefly wonder how these mares are single. The whole episode would firmly land both of them in “keeper” territory as far as he can figure. Objectively, Cure can’t deny that the whole situation is kind of hot. He’s still a bit peeved that they are boning in his parents, and his, house, but at the same time his inner voyeur has to admit that there’s something incredibly exciting about the spontaneity of everything.

Annoyance, disgust, and any other negative reaction aside, Cure has to give props to a dude who, with his wife’s blessing, nets himself a Pompeii Wake-Up Call, then gets literally led by the nose to a surprise threesome.

The situation doesn’t garner any kind of physical reaction from the colt; he simply hasn’t matured enough for his libido to scream for release, but he can’t bring himself to be angry since he has a very hard time denying that he would probably do the exact same thing Onyx had, given the circumstances. Stallions may not be exactly like men, and they certainly have a lot more opportunities to get themselves a warm piece of pie, but even on Equus it is damn near impossible for a male to turn down sex.

The furious pumping continues for several minutes until, finally, the dark stallion slams forward with all his might and stays there, unleashing inside the delighted mare who is stifling a moan as best she can. Diamond steps to the side and leans gently against the pair for a moment until their climaxes abate. As she begins to gather hooffuls of toilet paper, Onyx slowly eases himself off of Script’s back, trailing his chin down her spine and breathing heavily as he does.

Cure decides to be a gracious host and, while fighting down a snicker, has his plant in the attic extrude a piece of paper with a note. He Teleports the note, a pencil from his desk, a charged Cleaning crystal, and three empty cups to the bathroom sink counter. The small flashes of light from the teleportation startles the group, causing Script to jump and Onyx to lose his balance and fall on his rump. Diamond looks around the room in panic before slowly approaching the note; the panic morphing to horrified shame when she reads it.

Good morning!

Here’s a fully charged Cleaning crystal for your convenience. Use it as much as is needed, please. Also, good call on the water, Mr. Mark. I suggest you each drink a few cups to rehydrate before going back to bed.

I have to head over to Baltimare in a few hours for Junior Guard Training. In case you’re asleep when I get up, if you want me to give you a shot of healing to help with the after-effects of the booze just sign your name below.

-Cure

PS: Unicorn (and alicorn) horn auras penetrate thin surfaces like plaster and drywall pretty easily. The more you know!

The colt knows he should probably feel bad calling them out like that, but just can’t force himself to care. He isn’t exactly sure what the societal expectation for guests banging away in somepony else’s house is in Equestria, but as far as he’s concerned a subtle warning and a little shame accompanying legitimately helpful advice and cleaning supplies seems like a pretty light punishment.

The three sit and heatedly whisper amongst themselves for a few minutes, presumably trying to figure out what they should do. Onyx ultimately shrugs and, more loudly, points out that the young alicorn can’t be too angry; there’s nothing that would have prevented him from incapacitating any or all of them and throwing them out of the house, after all.

Instead, the dark stallion straddles the toilet channel, releases a mighty stream, uses the Cleaning crystal on everything from his tail to his chest, brushes his coat back into place, drinks six cups of water in quick succession, signs the note, and heads back to the couch to cuddle with his wife.

The mares watch in stunned silence at his casual response before, ultimately, deciding they might as well do the same. It’s slightly amusing that Diamond seems to struggle going potty with another pony present. She keeps pausing and looking around, then insists Script turn away before she’s finally able to go.

Once the final signature is made on the form, Cure teleports it back up to his plant right out of Script’s hooves and, otherwise, doesn’t do anything else with them when they return to the couch. He does, however, blast the bathroom with Sanitize on every surface. It’s a more potent version of Cleaning designed to address magically infused bacteria; complete overkill given he can tell the room is clean with his talent, but it still makes him feel better.

Once finished, he teleports the crystal back up to his plant, the pencil into his drawer, and the three cups back to the kitchen after Cleaning them, then closes his eyes to get another couple hours of sleep.

When three o’clock finally rolls around it takes a truly titanic effort for the colt to force himself to wakefulness. Climbing out of bed without waking anypony is even more difficult, and not just from a physical challenge standpoint; the pile of soft, furry bodies is entirely too comforting to easily walk away from.

He knows the other foals, not to mention their parents, are always appreciative of his attendance even though he has little left to learn, and he would feel a little guilty causing his awaiting guardians worry if he were to fail to show up when he is supposed to. The “lucky” bats that volunteer to be his night guard consider it an enormous honor to watch over him for the few hours per week that he’s attending class.

He briefly stops in his parents’ room to make sure they’re in good shape. Once he scans everypony he calls down stalks of his plant and hooks them each up, rehydrating them while purging any undesirable results from the night’s indulgences. He’d told them he was going to the class today, but he still leaves a note so they don’t have to wonder where he is upon waking.

He returns to his room and does the same to ensure the infants are dry, fed, and thoroughly emptied before heading down the stairs and similarly purging the three earth ponies of any remaining alcohol. Not completely comfortable treating anypony else without express permission, he silently creeps through the house, erects a Sound Bubble around the front door, and slips out into the night.

Shortly before dawn

Only a few ponies are out and about at six thirty in the morning, especially on a Saturday. Celestia’s sun hasn’t yet crested the horizon when the colt makes his way back to Golden Hills, but that doesn’t stop the bakery near Town Hall from being open and ready for business. Still invisible in his Serpentus disguise, Cure swoops down to land in a nearby greenspace.

He knows everypony will be starving when they wake up, and with about thirty-five ponies to feed (aside from the three still on milk only) there’s more empty stomachs that need filled than he would prefer to use his plant for. That and he figures it may weird out some, as it originally had his parents, if they realize they’re, in a way, eating part of the colt.

Figuring it will be easier to carry everything in unicorn mode, he tucks his wings tight, absorbs the longer feathers, and covers them in a layer of fur. A quick glance around shows he’s in the clear, so he dispels the Invisibility and trots into the store. The young unicorn walking in by himself at such an early hour draws a few looks and, despite his attempts to rein in his paranoia, Cure can’t stop himself from wondering if some of them may know who he truly is.

Now that he’s paying attention he notices a few ponies’ eyes stay on him longer than he feels like they should. Not to the point of flat-out gawking like they do in his Serpentus guise, but definitely more than most ponies would pay attention to a random light brown unicorn colt.

He tries not to think on it too much as he steps up to the counter and rears up to be closer to eye level with the mare behind it. If he wasn’t watching for it he may never have noticed the slight widening of her eyes that’s immediately quashed when he begins to speak.

“I need a whole mess ‘a stuff, ma’am. The folks hit the town last night and I got twenty adults and another fifteen foals that’ll all be comin to ready ta eat me outta house and home. I’d like at least ten dozen doughnuts, another couple dozen muffins, two dozen croissants…” he pauses and tilts his head in wonder. “Wait, is croissant plural just by itself?”

“I… I don’t think so?”

“It sounds like one of those words that stays the same, ya know? Like fish or sheep.”

The mare frowns and inclines her head in thought, sounding out “croissant” and “croissants” a few times quietly to herself. “I think it’s supposed to be croissants with an S on the end of it.”

“No, yu fewl!” an accented unicorn shouts from his table. All heads whip his direction as he heatedly marches to the counter. “I em tiyerd uv yu boareesh Eh-qwes-tree-ahns bootcherang our werds! Et es CWESON! CWEESS SON! Et es PRENCH, jus like boutique! Say et co-rect-ly!” he finishes with a firm nod, then turns and stomps back to his table with his snout in the air, tosses his waste in a trashcan, and stomps out the door.

Everypony just stares in open-mouthed confusion at the spectacle.

“That was really freaking weird.” A shake of his head refocuses his attention. “Whatever… as far as I’m concerned it’s cress-sants from now on,” the colt loudly muses, earning a few snickers. “So I’ll take two dozen cress-sants and a couple to-go liters each of coffee, tea, and milk. That oughta be enough for everypony to survive, maker willing.” He slides a six-tall stack of twenty bit coins on the table and says, “Keep the change.”

It doesn’t escape the colt’s notice that, despite the absolutely ludicrous amount of food he’s ordering, not a single pony in the store bats an eye. The mares behind the counter rush to fulfill his order, smiling broadly as they gather everything into box after box. Only the drinks have any substantial weight, so he sets them on his back and holds them with his TK field while levitating all of the confections overhead.

He draws more than a few curious stares on the way back home. The sight of a unicorn colt in Golden Hills is fairly unusual; one merrily skipping down the road whistling Won’t You Be My Neighbor to himself with half of a bakery floating in a chocolatey brown aura is completely unique. He gets some comments about feeding an entire herd or asking him where the party is, but with so few ponies out already it doesn’t take long to get home.

Celestia’s sun just starts to illuminate the world as he makes his way up to the house. As fun as it would be to burst through the door and cause a commotion, Ed’s memories place messing with someone that’s hung over staunchly in the ”dick move” column. Instead he casts another Sound Bubble on the door and quietly sneaks back in.

The move proves unnecessary; his dam, Amethyst, and Lemon are up and seem to have just started working on preparing food for everypony. Amethyst is spreading butter on all of the bread they have with the sugar and cinnamon sitting nearby. Lemon is stirring a huge pot of oats while his dam is cutting up and laying out all the fruit they had in the refrigerator on a platter. Title is in the nursery with the infants, joined by Thunder, Snowstorm, Ferric, Drift, and Glacial.

A quick glance through the house with his aura shows most everypony else is still asleep, though slight movements here or there tell him they’re beginning to stir, either from the day’s first light or the sounds and smells of breakfast being prepared.

“Hot damn! He takes you out, he buys you jewelry, and he even brings you breakfast!” Thunder excitedly cheers. She nudges her middle foal with a wingtip and tells her, “If you don’t marry him I just might snatch ‘em up myself.” The tease gets a revolted look and a “Gross!” from the filly that morphs into a wretch when Cure gives the mare a considering look.

“Fooooood!” Title drawls out, flopping on her barrel and dragging herself across the floor towards him. “Need. Doughnuts. Can’t. Go. On. Much. Longer!” She melodramatically collapses and rolls on her back with her mouth hanging open and tongue lolled out the side. Savvy comes over, gives her a quick sniff, then immediately goes back to playing with Berry Blitz.

He rolls his eyes but still can’t hold back a faint smile at the pink mare. Like the dutiful son he strives to be, he ignites his horn and Teleports a glazed doughnut directly into her waiting maw. She sputters and her eyes widen for a split second until the sugary flavor registers, then she chomps down on the confection without an inkling of hesitation, murmuring a “Fanks!” around it.

Six quick flashes deposit the beverages and all of the boxes save one on a cleared section of the counter as he, unencumbered, trots over and plants a kiss on the still-chewing mare’s cheek. “Love you, ma. How ya feeling? Nopony has a hangover, right?” The last box is sat on the floor, only to be immediately dug into by everypony in the room.

A few shouted thanks come from the back of the house where his moms start cleaning up and winding down their meal prep since it’s no longer urgently needed. The sound and light from the Teleportation spur a few ponies to drag themselves to their hooves. The ones he didn’t fix up look considerably rougher than his parents and the other three.

Silver and Berry box in Spring on one edge of the table. The pegasus is evidently the lightweight of the family in more ways than one, likely owing to the ridiculous constitution that earth ponies are blessed with. Their stallion fetches drinks for the three of them while they start digging in. Onyx and his four couchmates take a long edge of the table while the unicorns lean against one another on the side opposite Heavy's parents.

He ignores the gushing and mocking snickers from the other moms and Drift respectively and leans into his mom unabashedly when she wraps her forelegs around him and pulls him into a snuggly embrace. “Love you too, honey. We’re all good, but most of the others are still out of it. Your doing?”

“Mmhmm. I caught Mr. Mark, Miss Pick, and Miss Script -” all heads turn to the dining room where said ponies start choking on the bites of food in their mouths, “- on a bathroom trip before I left. Everypony else was asleep.”

“Your… Guard training?” Snowstorm inquiries.

“Yep! Today was lots of fun! Sgt. Song and Lt. Silver asked if I could help out a few fillies that were there for their first time! Oh my stars, you shoulda seen Shaded Glade’s face - she’s like twelve - when I had to really get hooves-on to help her with her stances! Her coat’s almost pitch black but she still blushed crimson when Prince Serpentus had to position her hooves and wings juuuust right!”

“You’re terrible,” Title teasingly comments. She looks to the box and makes a pleading whimper, then hums happily when he levitates another doughnut over her maw to feed her.

“Such a filial son,” Thunder wistfully sighs. “I wish my foals would surprise me with breakfast once in a while.”

Both girls react at once; Glacial with a guilt-ridden wince and Drift by defensively shouting, “You’ve never asked us to!”

“Wouldn’t be much of a surprise if she had to ask,” he quietly points out. The commotion of moving bodies picks up as more and more guests finally wake up and start moving towards the food. The sounds of movement upstairs and the occasional flush of a toilet tells him his friends will be on the way down soon as well. Cure gives his mom one last nuzzle and wiggles free, saying, “I better go check on the rest of the geezers. Can’t have everypony draggin tail all day.”

“I’m going to have to go soon,” Ferric says with a pout. “Have to be at work in about half an hour.”

Cure walks over and hops up on the couch with her, nudging the filly to roll over. He lays on her chest, scooting up between her forelegs and nuzzles into her chin, softly saying, “Send me a message when you get off. Maybe we can all get together and work on some basic casting exercises at the range. The staffs…” he tilts his head in thought, “Staffs? Staves? Yeah, staves - must be irregular word day today - should be ready for you all to try out if you’re interested.”

Her face heats up and tail swishes happily at the affection. Nodding in agreement, she gives him a tight squeeze and brushes her chin against his before letting go. He gives her a departing nuzzle, then makes his way to his dam, now sitting to Emerald’s left by the table. He rears up and wraps her side in a hug, careful not to jab her shoulder with his horn. “‘Mornin dam. Have fun last night?”

“Mmmmostly,” she drawls, wrapping her foreleg around the colt’s back. “At least until somepony,” her eyes briefly flick in Amethyst’s direction, “almost started a fight.”

The purple mare looks not the least bit bothered at the accusation. She shoos Lemon to the side and cracks the oven open to get out the toast, casually stating, “That two-bit whore crossed tha line and everypony knows it. She’s lucky ta still have all’a her teeth.”

Nearly every head at the table nods in agreement, including his dam’s and even Emerald Aura’s. “Do I need to go hide a body, ma?”

The mare snorts out a laugh as she dons an oven mitt, pausing when Cure lights up his horn and floats the tray out of the oven and onto a trivet. “Nah, one good shove and the staff stepped in. Much obliged for speakin up when ya did, sergeant.”

Haze, looking far more haggard than Cure has ever seen, lifts his mug of coffee in acknowledgement. That he’s using his hooves gives Cure an idea of how awesome he feels. His wife isn’t much better, mechanically shoving bite after bite of her croissant into her mouth and washing it down with a sip of tea. Tailwind and Rain are still asleep cuddled together on their cloud, but Midnight Gem and Level Plane are both looking rather worn as well.

“If y’all want, I can wipe out most of your hangover symptoms -”

“Maker above, please do,” Haze pleadingly interrupts.

“- but it’s a smidge more invasive than just hitting you with my talent. You need some electrolytes and water and whatever gunk’s still in yer blood cleaned out.”

“Son, my head hurts so bad I feel like my horn’s pointing the wrong direction. I don’t particularly care how invasive it is so long as it works.”

“Alright, gimme a sec. A vine will pop up under the table, don’t freak out,” he warns, lighting his horn to call up a stalk from under the floorboards. Everypony looks over when the table suddenly sprouts a vine that waves in greeting to the unicorn. “I’m gonna give you an IV and some aspirin. You should be good to go in a few.” The stallion barely manages a shrug and single nod granting permission.

The vine loosely wraps around the stallion’s left foreleg so he doesn’t move and affixes itself to his barrel, merging into his bloodstream to rehydrate him, filter out any leftover toxins, and pump him full of painkillers.

“Feels a little chilly,” Haze idly comments, not even pausing his eating. His wife watches in interest for a moment as he slowly improves and sighs in relief. It couldn’t come at a better time; like a bursting dam, all of Cure’s remaining friends, their siblings, and his two oldest little sisters flood down the stairs and beeline for the kitchen with his sire following in their wake at a more sedate pace.

Emerald winces and rubs her head at the commotion before steeling her resolve. With a pleading look, she meets the colt’s eyes and gives him a small nod. Silver, Berry, Spring, Plane, and Midnight quickly follow suit.

Cure finds it amusing that he’d previously considered the possibility that the adults would be squicked out by “eating” him, even metaphysically, and now he is essentially pumping his fluids directly into their bloodstreams.

Despite the oddity of the situation, he is relieved that Emerald must trust him more than he suspected; she and her husband, of all of his friends’ parents, certainly have the best grasp of what he could actually do to somepony. It may just be that he is the less presently painful headache, but as far as he’s concerned it’s still progress.

“Ponies know who I am.”

Vines freezes in place, coffee mug half way up to the cabinet. His sire’s reaction is less pronounced, but the dark stallion still pauses mid-slurp before setting his coffee down. Lemon, Amethyst, and the girls left to open up her store before all their guests had even departed. After all the chaos and excitement of a house full of ponies, all three of his youngest siblings are fast asleep piled around the pink mare.

His mom cocks a brow and glances between the three. “How do you figure? Did somepony say something to you while you were out?”

“Fall Thunder. She blurted it out last night like it was nothing.”

“Wouldn’t worry ‘bout it too much, colt. She was there fer the coronation and whatnot.”

“No,” he insists, shaking his head, “she said she overheard ponies talking about it at the park. Mares watchin their foals play and whatnot. I’m sad to say, but apparently my secret identity isn’t quite as secret as I’d hoped. But don’t worry!” he shouts, holding his hooves up dramatically. “I have a plan.”

“Maker help us,” his mom sighs.

Body doubles, clones, illusions, misdirections, and every other possibility she can imagine float through his dam’s head as she puts the last few cups away. Hopefully, whatever his idea is, it won’t be too far out there, but something niggling in the back of her mind tells the mare the colt’s solution is nothing quite so mundane.

“Colt…” his sire sighs as well, bonelessly drooping over the table. “What exactly does this plan 'a yers involve?”

Cure waves the concern away with an easy smile. “Nothing so wild, pa. I need to talk to the princess tomorrow and see how feasible it would be to have a body double.” All three parents breathe out a sigh of relief. “I just need a way to have Cure Wave and Prince Serpentus seen publicly at the same time. I mean, the boss lady had the pictures of ‘me’ in the background at the coronation, but it would be easy for anypony even slightly aware of magic to correctly dismiss those as some kinda setup.”

“That’s not a bad idea, honey. I don’t really care for deceiving ponies, but it may be best if you asked her majesty for help before anything ridiculous happens.”

“Yeah, I’ll definitely bring it up first thing tomorrow night. So…” he looks between the three, “What exactly happened that almost caused you to get tossed out last night?”

His mom starts laughing at the same time Vines rolls her eyes and Deed smiles smugly. “Yer pa’s just irresistible to tha ladies, champ. Ain’t no big surprise there; I’ve been tellin ‘em all along.”

“So… some mare came up and propositioned you or something?”

“More or less,” he answers with a nod.

“She licked him,” his mom nonchalantly explains.

“Wait, what?!” The colt gives his sire an up-down look and cringes in disgust. “Seriously? Right there in the bar?!”

“Honey!” Vines exclaims. “Not like THAT!”

“Oh… how then? Like… your face?”

“It was at least partially his fault!” the green mare exclaims. “He went out on the dance floor struttin his stuff like some kind of peacock!” Done putting the mugs away, she walks over and sits beside her son and mildly glares at the stallion. “You should have known better than to prance out there without an escort!”

Deed leans back, putting his hooves up to defend himself from the accusation. “Woah now, hold on there! That ain’t fair!”

“Did he actually do anything to invite that kind of attention directly?”

She frowns at being called out and slowly shakes her head. “No… I suppose he didn’t. Still! A stallion should know better than to hop out on the dance floor alone if he’s not trying to find a mare!” Cure isn’t sure how to react when his sire winces and Title slowly nods her head in agreement.

“Wait, wait, wait! This is some bullcrap right here. Why the hay can’t a dude hop on the stage and shake his money maker?”

“He can,” his mom answers with a shrug, “but that doesn’t mean he won’t get approached. That said, the mare crossed a line when she gave him that lick.”

Cure turns to his sire and asks, “Where did she lick you?”

“Right up his neck,” Title answers, motioning up the left side of her own for emphasis. “When he backed away she pursued. To be fair, she was completely stewed, so Amy kinda overreacted, but the staff threw her out before it could escalate.”

“Stewed?” he asks. “That’s a new one ta me. Still, is finding a willing dude really that hard? I mean… So far it doesn’t seem like y’all - mares in general, I mean, not just you two specifically - mind sharin your dude when another has a need.”

“They have to ask, babe,” Title explains. “A married stallion can’t just run around with whoever unless his wives are okay with it. That would be cheating… You know, adultery. She knew he was there with a group of mares. Lemon was already on her way up there to join him.”

“Oh. I guess that makes sense, at least. What do you do… vote?”

“Sort of. We come to a consensus. In some marriages the first wife gets veto power, but…”

“Marriages where that happens a lot don’t usually last,” his dam interjects. “Most stallions will eventually seek better options,” she adds, her lip curled in distaste.

His sire shrugs and bobs his head in agreement. “Ain’t no shortage of lonely ladies out there if’n it becomes a stickin point.”

“Huh. Well, just so you’re aware, Onyx, Diamond, and Script had a midnight rendezvousin the bathroom shower stall.” That bit of news garners more than a little disgust from the three. “Don’t worry. I teleported a Cleaning crystal into the room for them and hit all the surfaces with Sanitize afterwards. I’ll do the same with the couch just in case. Gotta be honest. I had a hard time refraining from making some seriously inappropriate doughnut choices on the way home.”

“Oh?” his mom sounds in inquiry. “Were you going to bring them a couple chocolate eclairs?”

“Title Search!”

“Actually, yes. Or a glazed red velvet one and a cream filled one with some kind of strawberry or raspberry jam on top. I thought it may be kinda amusing putting them on a plate and inconspicuously sliding it in front of the dude.”

“Cure!”

It’s difficult for him to feel properly chastised when two of our three parents in attendance are laughing.

“What? I didn’t do it, obviously! To be honest it felt a little too over the top and forced. Plus I didn’t think shaming them in front of everypony like that would be worth the hassle.”

“It’s also kinda like what you did with the apples for the princess,” Title adds. “Seems kinda squicky with that context.”

“Yeah, I considered that too. Anyhow, Diamond asked and Midnight gave her okay, at least for her, but Script decided she wanted in on the action and neither seemed to mind at all. I wouldn’t normally narc on somepony, but that strikes me at kinda disrespectful to do at somepony else’s house without their approval.”

“Not something I’d do. Not unless I was three sheets to tha wind.”

“He was pretty hammered. Diamond may have been a little tipsy, but Script barely had any alcohol in her system at all.”

“At… least they used the bathroom?” his dam hesitantly voices.

“That’s low class,” his mom counters. “His house is like a two minute walk. Why couldn’t they just wait until morning?”

“Because they were drunk, horny, and had the opportunity?” Cure rhetorically answers. “Either way, I totally called them out on it,” he says, reaching into his mane and sliding the note over.

It gets a chuckle from his mom and sire and even an amused snort from his dam.

“Very passive aggressive, Cure. Well done.”

“Thanks, ma! I think I’m gonna go take a nap before heading out in a bit.” He nuzzles against his dam’s side before hopping down and calling out, “I’m going to meet everypony at the range later, so I’ll probably head out in a couple hours.”

“Sounds good champ. We’ll keep the little’uns quiet for ya. Hope ya get some good rest.”

A couple hours later

Under the cloak of Invisibility, a large alicorn stallion lands just a few meters to the north of the railroad tracks between Baltimare and Golden Hills. He lays down on his barrel in the grass and concentrates. Like a fly trap opening after a meal, his barrel splits down the middle and a thick tendril drills down, deep into the ground. A large seed is pushed through and planted in the hole.

The tendril retracts. His barrel closes. Grass grows over the disturbed earth. He looks around to ensure he has not been detected, then, with a leap and a flap of his wings, he moves a hundred meters to the east, following the tracks and repeating the process again and again until he’s just barely outside of the Baltimare city limits.

Task complete, he takes to the air with nopony the wiser.

Chapter 91: Body Double

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Chapter 92: An Offer You Can't Refuse

Saturday, August 15th, 909 AB (4 days later)
Shortly before dinner

Since tonight’s get-together is primarily for Cure’s friend, he had insisted he be the one responsible for cooking the majority of the dinner. Though his parents had been less than enthusiastic about what he’d chosen, he was confident that at least eighty percent of their guests would be perfectly happy with his selection for what he considered to be the main course.

It was one of Edward and Cyndi’s favorite meals, not only because of the flavor, which he loved, but because it was reasonably quick to make. The lack of an air fryer slowed the process somewhat, but as far as he’s concerned, the food comes out just as good when you bake it, even if it does take nearly twice as long.

He makes a mental note to take the oven apart sometime soon so he can add some small, ceramic fans and a few Spin enchantments to the unit. It may not be as important to thoroughly cook things as it was for Ed, but even if there are no bacterial concerns, the idea of eating some things raw just didn’t sit right.

While he keeps an eye on the heated food, his dam is off to the side prepping the enormous salad that is customary to any pony meal. Kilograms of spinach, cucumbers, diced cabbage, sliced beets, tomatoes, and several hooffulls of craisins go into the mix; enough to feed the fourteen ponies that will be dining tonight.

“How’s it lookin, colt? Smells purty good.”

Cure cracks open the oven and looks over the two dishes inside. “It’s more or less ready, Amy. I’ll leave it open to cool.” Wings spread, he lifts up enough to check on the two huge pots full of mashed potatoes and the sauteed veggies, floating the former to a waiting trellis and turning off the burner on the latter, then giving it a quick stir.

He gains a faraway look for a moment when Dawn Sends him a message, then turns to the front of the house, calling out. “Hey dad! They’re here!”

Deed leans left and right to give Title and Lemon each a quick kiss and climbs off the couch, trotting over to the door and opening it just as the small herd steps onto the front porch. Cure focuses back on the meal, only vaguely paying attention as the family makes their way in.

He notices the moment Emerald first catches sight of him hovering beside the stovetop. She’d been casually chatting with his parents at the entryway to the nursery area and glanced in his direction, only to double-take when she noticed him floating midair completely undisguised.

As best he can recall, this is only the third or fourth time she’s seen him in full-on “alicorn mode” and not in his Prince Serpentus disguise. The two have crossed paths at the hospital a few times, but never interacted other than a quick greeting with other parties present, which prevented any show of familiarity.

After paying the hug and nuzzle toll to the three infants, dam and daughter make their way back to the kitchen with a bottle levitating in the mare’s aura. “Vines, dear, I know Cure said not to bring anything, but I simply could not come empty hooved. This is a lovely peach moscato, perfect for dessert. Perhaps we… the adults,” she clarifies, narrowing her eyes at the colt, “could enjoy a small glass after dinner?”

Cure shoots the mare a teasing pout, only to have it wiped away by a nuzzle from her daughter into his chest. “Hey beautiful,” he greets, dropping down to sandwiching her neck between his own and an outstretched wing. “I made something special for everypony tonight! Hope y’all are hungry!”

Dawn gives the air a testing sniff and glances between the stovetop, counter, and oven door. “I’m smelling nothing but garlic. It smells good,” she quickly adds, “but lots and lots of garlic.”

“Yep. No need to worry ‘bout vamponies gettin a hold of ya tonight, babe. A taste of your blood and they’ll run screamin. Or melt on the spot. That is, unless, they’re some kind of vampiracorn!” he shouts and leans away, eyes slitting and fangs erupting from his muzzle.

A bright Light shoots from her horn, projecting a shadowed outline of the colt against the stove and wall. With a playful hiss the colt recoils away, ducks behind his wing, and cries out, “NOOOOOOOOOO!!!!!!!!! EET BUURNZ!” melodramatically.

“The food’s gonna burn if ya don’t quit fartin around. C’mon you two, take everythin out to tha table.”

Dawn gets started helping with setting the table while Cure gets all of the hot dishes loaded up on trivets and potholders, then teleports them one at a time onto the dining room table before hopping up towards the left end of the long side closest to the kitchen.

Cherry and Lotus join on his left while Dawn, Starlight, and Solar fill in on his right, Emerald and Haze taking the farthest edge to the right of their son. Deed sits closest to the older stallion and opposite Solar with Blazer and Golden between himself and their dam, followed by Savvy in a highchair between him and her dam. Lemon and Amethyst sit opposite the unicorns to the left of their two foals.

The unicorns eye the two large baking dishes he’d set out with more than a little trepidation. They’re aware the colt has an unusual fondness for meat, but hadn’t expected to be served it for dinner.

He figured they would be a little hesitant, so before anypony has the opportunity to get too worked up he waves his forelegs and wings in placation. “Don’t get all freakin out on me; that is not meat. It’s an entirely plant-based meat substitute that is completely safe and healthy… well, mostly healthy, for ponies and other herbivorous creatures to eat. Omnivores as well, I suppose, but this version wouldn’t digest right in a griffon’s belly.”

“What is it?” Haze asks as he levitates a piece to his own plate. Cure, his parents, and his siblings have already dished themselves up some along with all of the sides. “It doesn’t smell like fish.”

“Colt says it tastes just like chicken,” his sire answers, waving at Cure as he does. “Said it’s a garlic-cheddar chicken ‘a some kind he came up with.”

“Yep! Minus the chicken, obviously. The texture is a little different because the ‘meat,’ for lack of a better term, is more uniform. If this were real meat you would have things like fat and stuff, but since I grew this from plant matter, its consistency is the same throughout it. No fat, no bones, no tough parts; just nice, tender, juicy, relatively healthy plant filets, basically.

“I only say ‘relatively’ ‘cause they’re slathered in butter and cheddar cheese at the moment. Nutrition-wise the meat itself might as well be beans. Give it a try; I won’t be offended if it’s not for you and I made plenty of ‘taters and veggies and dam made a big ‘ol spinach salad if you don’t care for it.”

Dawn and Solar barely hesitate at all to serve a portion up for themselves. Starlight quickly follows suit, but Emerald watches on warily, sticking to the safer options as everypony starts digging in.

“Huh. It’s actually quite good,” Haze thoughtfully comments. “You really should try a bite, dear. I’m certain you’ll like it. The flavors come primarily from the garlic, cheese, and the breading.”

“The little crispy bits of fried breading with cheese in ‘em are the best parts, Mrs. Aura. They’re the least healthy, too, but it’s not like that’s a concern or anything.”

When the rest of her family nods in agreement she finally concedes, accepting a bite of the not-chicken from her husband’s fork. “Oh! That is delicious!”

“Glad ya like it, Mrs. Aura. I tell ya what, I’m half tempted to set up a big ‘ol barbecue station at the Squads Competition, but if I’m gonna open a restaurant in my civilian guise sellin sandwiches made outta this stuff then that won’t work. It’s a shame, too, ‘cause that griff restaurant I visited in Canterlot had lots’a good sauces for meat.”

“The potatoes are really good too,” Dawn says, scooping up a spoonful and chomping down. Cure shoots the girl an appreciative smile, leans over, and wraps his right wing over her back in a brief hug that she accepts with a happy swish of her tail.

Dinner properly gets underway with everypony going to town on the dishes. Seeking to bring some conversation to the table, Haze washes down his bite with some cider and turns to Cure’s sire. “So Deed,” he begins, interrupting the relative quiet of everypony eating, “word is you’ve been doing a lot more business in Baltimare proper recently. Thinking of relocating at some point?”

His sire narrows his eyes at the sergeant and teasingly asks, “Got yer spies watchin me, do ya?”

“You tend to stand out in a crowd these days,” Haze retorts, panning his gaze up towards the crown of the taller stallion’s head, then side to side at his shoulders.

Cure can’t deny he has a point; his sire has grown nearly an entire hoof since they started adjusting his height, and between the family jogs, trips to the gym, and the colt’s manipulation, the stallion is a fair amount broader and more chiseled than the vast majority of stallions in town; a fact that his moms all seem to appreciate immensely.

“That’s fair, I reckon. Truth is we’re lookin ta expand inta tha city. Been in talks with Warm Hearth in town ta partner up ‘n go in tagether-like. It ain’t gonna happen overnight, but it’d be nice ta get up ‘n runnin by Nightmare Night at the latest.”

“Oh? Consolidating with the local competition, are you?”

Title jumps in, pointing out, “Less risk that way. Hearth has a bigger firm with more employees, but we’ve been cutting into her business a fair amount. Deed’ll be a partner over the sales team, I’ll be in the office. Her staff can take care of more of the administrative stuff while we,” she waves between herself and Deed, “can stick to our talents. Fair is coming with us as well, of course, helpin ponies get their financing in order.”

“Right,” Cure agrees, “can’t have the boss lady’s spy gettin left behind.”

His parents all roll their eyes or shake their heads disbelievingly, but Solar echoes back in question, “Spy? Why would the princess have a spy working for your parents?”

“He’s been goin on about that fer months now,” his sire grumbles. “Even said somethin ‘bout it to the princess’s face.”

“And she didn’t deny it, if you recall,” he argues. “As for why? Security, probably. Somepony to act as a bodyguard if anypony comin after me went to their offices instead. Besides, Miss Rate started before I ascended, so Celestia,” he notes Emerald twitch slightly at the informal use of the princess’s name, “probably wanted somepony to keep an eye on all of us, just like the ones that keep an eye on your store,” he finishes with a wave to Lemon.

The mare pauses mid-bite and frowns, looking at everypony else in confusion. “I have ponies watching my store?”

Cure, Title, Deed, and Amethyst all respond at once.

“Of course you do!”
“No you don’t.”
“Nah, colt’s just paranoid.”
“Probably.”

All eyes drift over to the still silent Vines waiting for her input. Nervously glancing side to side, she shrugs and meekly says, “It’s a possibility?”

“See! At least two of ya have some sense! Sarge, what do you think? Would the princess assign ponies to keep watch over somepony that she originally considered a possible threat to national security and, later, became the target of international intrigue?”

“Uhh… are you asking me as a typical colt or,” he drifts off, waving to his own head.

“Take your pick! It doesn’t friggin matter! You have a pony in town with a special talent in a restricted class of magic. Would you not keep an eye on him?”

“Considering the dossier you know we put together on you, I would.”

Cure meets his sire’s eyes and points both hooves at the sergeant, saying, “And there ya go!”

Lotus leans to her left and quietly asks her dam, “What’s a daw-see-ay?”

“A fancy way ‘a sayin report, baby.”

“Either way,” his sire says, rolling his eyes again, “pay-wise I ain’t expectin a big change right away, but I reckon in a year or two with a lil luck we oughta be takin on tha bigger firms in tha city.”

“Still don’t know why you’re goin in as partners,” Cure grumbles. “Could just hire a few ponies and own the business. Ya look for partners when yer business is strugglin, not kickin tail.”

“Or when you’re trying to grow your business without spending fifty, sixty hours a week in the office,” Title argues. “This way her staff can do the advertising, creature resources, accounting, contract work, and whatever else and, like your sire said, within a couple years we should be making a lot more without having to kill ourselves.”

“I guess,” he begrudgingly agrees. “I suppose money isn’t really a big issue anyhow.”

“Exactly, champ. Got five cute lil foals ta take care ‘a. Maybe if they were all grown up.”

“Five?” he pouts.

“Ya have yer moments, I reckon…”

“Foal abuse,” he quietly grouses.

Haze raises his glass and suggests, “Well I suppose congratulations, presumptive as they may be, are in order.”

“Here’s hopin,” Deed agrees, tapping the stallion’s glass with his own.

“What of your shop, Lemon?” Emerald inquires. “I’ve noticed you have a couple employees now. Are you seeking to expand as well?”

“I am, as a matter of fact! Over in Baltimare there’s some storefront available not far from city hall and some on that fancy shoppin strip up north that I’m lookin at.” She nods in Cure’s direction and adds, “With the colt all but eliminating what supplies I have to buy, costs have dropped to almost nothing. My only expenses are rent, water, payroll, and a bit of fertilizer these days, so I shouldn’t have any problem settin up in either or, eventually, both.”

“I’m afraid I don’t understand,” Emerald responds, glancing between Cure and the yellow mare.

“His plant,” Dawn volunteers. “He put a big plant in her kitchen and up on her roof that makes almost everything she needs. Eggs, milk, fruit, nuts, you name it.”

“Oh. That would give you quite the advantage.”

“Yep. The feed isn’t free and some of the products use a lot of water, but I figure it’ll cuts costs down by eighty percent or more eventually. Plus, it’s ready when I need it and nothing ever goes bad now, and it can make things I can’t normally get like concentrates or powdered flavorings. Now, there’s no need to worry about the other stores in town,” she assures them. “I’m not gonna drop my prices to undercut them or anything. I just get to keep more of the sale as profit.”

“It’s still a little unfair,” Cure grants, “but ponies eat enough sweets that it’s not like anypony’s gettin driven outta business. I’m very conscious of the impact my plants can have. I didn’t do a good job considering the end results with my pharmaceutical plants, unfortunately, and we all nearly paid the price for that.”

“That wasn’t your fault, honey,” his dam is quick to argue.

“Not my fault, no, but still,” he shrugs, “there’s no denyin my actions led to it. Mine and a moron of a lieutenant I never got the name of.” Haze’s eyes go wide for a split second, though he doesn’t speak up. “Yeah,” Cure says, turning his direction, “I know I could find out pretty easily, but I’m choosin ta let that one go.”

“A lieut-” Emerald begins to question, stopping abruptly when Lemon and Amethyst both quickly shake their heads no.

Seeking a way to change the subject, Deed turns to the only adult that hasn’t spoken up yet. “So Starlight?”

The young mare hums in question around a mouthful of veggies.

“You’ve been awfully quiet over there. How’s yer business doin? Lotsa summer weddins keepin ya busy?”

“There are! There was a lull for a few weeks after the Celebration, but that just gave me a moment to get caught up! Thank goodness, too, because it won’t be long ‘till the end of year celebration planning starts.”

“Speaking of year-end celebrations,” Haze begins, looking between Cure’s parents, “do you have any plans to attend the one at town hall again?”

“I wouldn’t mind, but I reckon we’re not invited,” Amethyst answers.

“None of us are government employees,” Lemon agrees.

“Ah. I suppose that’s true, in a way.”

“I could ask the mayor for tickets,” Cure suggests. “I don’t know if Baroness Wheatfield even knows my identity.”

“Technically speaking,” Haze begins, “she should not. Her office would not have been privy to the report we prepared regarding your talent, and the details surrounding your Serpentus identity are strictly confidential. That said, unofficially, ponies do talk and her family has been in charge of the city for decades. Even if nopony directly told her that you are an alicorn, I would be shocked to find her unaware.”

“Ponies know,” Dawn nearly whispers. “Heavy Lift’s twin sisters overheard mares talking about him at the park.”

“Right, but don’t worry about that. I’m workin on addressin that issue,” Cure insists in a firm tone. The surety and speed with which he does gives the unicorns pause. Solar looks to Dawn in question. She shrugs in answer. He turns to his sire and cocks a single brow, getting a single no head shake in response.

Emerald similarly stares at the colt for a moment before sharing a worried look with his dam. Vines waves the concern away, explaining, “He spoke to her majesty about it on Sunday night. It will take a couple weeks to arrange for a few ponies to act as body doubles on such a long term basis, but they got the ball rolling anyway.”

“Exactly! Me and the boss lady have it all under control. I’ve got fake customers scheduled the whole time I’ll be in Canterlot for the competition and everything. Ponies will show up, get their ‘procedures’ done, and leave under an illusion. I’m even setting aside bits so my normal weekly deposit will happen.”

Dawn asks, “Will they be living here too?”

“Not all at once, but they will if they’re on the clock. It’ll only be while I’m gone that week, but yeah.”

“Huh. Weird.”

“Yeah. It is what it is,” he agrees with a sigh. “I don’t think I’m going to be going on any more long trips like this again until January, at least.”

“What’s in Jan… oh, the births again?”

“Yep. The plan is to have all of the high risk mares across the nation come to Detrot. I’ll induce ‘em two or three weeks before they’re due and ensure the foals are healthy. Kinda sucks I won’t be here for Mrs. Dance and Mrs. Burst, but they’ll be fine. I plan on giving them the upgrades to ensure smooth foalbirth here at some point.”

Solar and Starlight both freeze for a fraction of a second upon the mention of Cure’s upgrades, a reaction that doesn’t escape anypony’s notice. Title completely fails to stifle a snorted laugh that’s immediately echoed by Savvy in a high pitched giggle. Both Amethyst and Lemon grin unabashedly at the teenagers’ reactions.

Dawn looks to her right as Starlight gradually changes from her typical dark blue colors to something closer to fuschia, then leans forward to peek around her at her brother with his slightly brighter than normal red glow. “Why is that a big deal? You’re acting all embarrassed and stuff. I know what happens during foalbirth.” She leans to her right to affectionately bump Starlight and adds, “I think having Cure give you his upgrade was a great idea.”

The mare chuckles uncomfortably, nodding more than is warranted. “Yeah! Easier foalbirth! That’s why I asked for it!” she weakly insists.

“Right!” Solar instantly agrees. “I’m sure it will be very useful when we eventually have foals! Assuming Cure isn’t available to deliver them, that is.”

Haze notes everypony’s reaction and asks, “What…” he coughs into his fetlock to clear his throat, “What exactly is the nature of these… ‘upgrades,’ if I may ask?”

Emerald’s head whips right to glare at her stallion.

He recoils away before rallying. “What?! While modern medical advancements have made foalbirth far safer than was in centuries past, it is still a process fraught with danger, both to the dam and the foal. If his highness has a method to improve the chances of a successful delivery then I would be remiss in my duties as a health professional if I were not to ask for more information.”

“Exactly, Mr. Haze!” the colt cheers, bounces in his seat; his excitement to share information about one of his least distributed enhancements nearly palpable. He fishes out his Sound Bubble crystal and erects one over the fillies. The move gets a bewildered look from the two, then a scowl when they realize they’re being excluded from the conversation.

He gives them a quick wing hug and mouths “just a moment” to placate them, then turns to explain, “It’s a complete overhaul to the muscular and neural pathways in the area!” He leans forward and grabs the serving spoon, scooping up a huge pile of mashed potatoes and dumps it into a visible field of his aura overhead.

“See, the normal muscles can contract, to a degree, and push the foal from the womb through the birth canal all slow and weak-like, right?” He contracts the cylindrical forcefield, gradually pushing the lump of potatoes slowly from one end to the other to demonstrate. “Well, nopony likes a weak birth canal, amirite?! After all, why drag that whole fiasco over hours when you can blast that baby out and get on with yer day?”

“A fantastic point,” the stallion agrees, flicking his eyes to his left to gauge his wife’s reaction, but keeping himself otherwise pointedly facing forwards.

The three moms are leaning against each other cackling madly. Vines has covered her eyes with her pastern and has her ears pinned back, quietly sighing, “Every meal…” while his sire watches on in amusement. Starlight and Solar are frozen as if moving will draw everypony’s attention to their shared mortification.

“The Mark II upgrades the musculature a significant amount,” the colt explains as he slightly thickens the forcefield, adding additional power to move the potatoes back and forth much more quickly, “and adds a lot of flexibility and far more control.” He squeezes the forcefield cylinder small, squishing the potatoes evenly down the length, then widens one end and undulates the field to force the mass back into a ball. “I jokingly compared it to a boa constrictor with the way the snakes are so strong yet flexible. As humorous as it was at the time you can’t deny the comparison is accurate.”

Title barely gets “boa constrictor hoo-ha” out between laughs, leaning against the table for support.

Emerald is so impressed by the ingenuity that she stares, mouth agape, at the entire display and can’t help but listen with rapt attention.

“With this puppy in place the act of actually pushing the foal out is far more simple and almost completely pain-free.” Done with his demonstration, Cure tosses the wad of potatoes towards himself and snaps it out of the air, humming and wiggling joyfully in his seat, satisfied from both the brilliance of the modification itself and the extra helping of taters he managed to snag.

The elder unicorn manages only a single utterance. “Huh.”

The colt swallows his mouthful and gleefully adds, “Also, with all the extra nerve endings and control, my understanding is that the act of actually making the foal is a whole lot more fun as a result.” He leans right, holds his fetlock over the left side of his muzzle, and stage whispers, “But you’ll hafta ask the ladies ‘bout that, sarge,” punctuating the statement with a wink.

Dawn covers her eyes and glows crimson, quietly muttering, “Maker help me.”

The colt continues on unperturbed. “If I had the magic capacity I’d probably have given this to every mare I’ve helped deliver so far. Within a few years I’d more ‘n likely end up with more friggin statues in my likeness than even the boss lady has.”

Shoulders still shaking in amusement, Title nods along and says, “It sure helped me with Savvy, didn’t it honey?” The sweet filly excitedly babbles and bounces in place, nodding energetically to mirror her dam’s motions.

“Yeah, ma, but you never had ta give birth with the old Mark I. What’s your thoughts on it, dam? Were Goldie and Blaze a whole lot easier than me or was it not a big deal what with the whole earth pony thing?”

Face still covered from embarrassment, the green mare sighs and shakes her head. “Neither was difficult, but the twins were definitely quicker and easier despite there being two of them.”

Cure glances to his left and dispels the Bubble, quickly apologizing and promising his sisters treats in reparations for his offense. “Of course, that’s only tangentially related to why we, and I specifically, wanted to have you all over tonight.”

“Not that it was the only reason we invited you,” his sire quickly insists. “We’re always thrilled ta have ya over, after all.”

Emerald’s eyes go wide as she looks between the colt and his sire. “You intended to offer this upgrade to me as well?!”

“Well, honey dearest, you certainly can’t deny that your deliveries did not go smoothly in the past. Perhaps we should consider it.”

“That’s really not what I meant,” Cure interrupts. “I wanted to propose something for Solar, as a matter of fact. If you want that upgrade, then that’s great, but that’s not why I suggested you come over instead of us all going to a nice restaurant or something.”

Though not enthusiastic to speak up and become the center of attention, Solar quietly comments, “Uhh… I don’t think I need that upgrade.”

Cure scoffs, rolling his eyes. “Oh please, as if I would need ya to come here for something so mundane as that. No, what I was gonna propose is far more extensive, if you’re interested.”

“Maybe that can wait until after dinner, honey,” Vines suggests. With the meal basically concluded, Cure doesn’t object in the least. “In the meantime, I could really use a glass of the wine you brought, Emerald. Would anypony else like some as well?”

Emerald briefly considers not objecting when even her daughter’s hoof shoots into the air.

With five additional horns it only takes a few moments to clean up the kitchen and dining area and put away the plates and cooking utensils. For what must be the thousandth time since Edward’s memories arrived, Cure can only sigh and internally scream at the simple daily uses of magic that humans have to do without. He can easily recall dozens of memories where Ed would stand over a sink scrubbing away for seemingly hours on end to accomplish something easily done with the most basic of spells.

After a socially acceptable amount of time idly chatting in the living room, the mom squad volunteers to keep the foals occupied while Cure leads everypony else to the office towards the front of the house opposite and slightly further down from the downstairs bathroom. The room is not very large for a pony-designed room; roughly five by five meters, and has only a single, lonesome, wooden couch just large enough for Deed to comfortably lay on all the way against the back left corner and supported by a tangle of roots emerging from the floor beneath it.

The walls are a light colored wood, as is the flooring and, from all appearances, seem to be a single, continuous, unmarred piece. As unusual as the decor is, the ceiling of the room is what truly sets it apart as bizarre. Haloing the room at the top of each wall is a continuous strand of glowing white vines, filling the room with almost hospital-quality illumination. The remainder of the ceiling is covered in dark green vines. They range from hoof thick to a fraction of a centimeter wide and are covered in a canopy of small flowers in every color imaginable.

The scene leaves the unicorns bewildered, staring in confusion and some slight wonder at exactly what they’re seeing and, more urgently, why they are seeing it. The scents of anxiety reach the colt’s snout before their parents even enter the room. Dawn and Solar trot right in unperturbed and, with only a split second’s hesitation, Starlight follows in their wake and squeezes between the two.

“I know it may not be terribly comforting coming from me, but I promise, y’all got nothin to worry about. This is just kind of my home operating room, of a sort. I mean, technically, I could do the same anywhere in the house but… I dunno, this is kinda my room. It’s also a safe room in case somepony is stupid enough to try storming the castle, if ya know what I mean.”

“I’m not entirely sure I do,” Haze responds.

“Fair,” he acknowledges. He waves to the single piece of furniture in the room and asks, “Dad, you mind showin ‘em?”

“Eh, no need for anythin so dramatic, champ.” Deed turns to the two and waves around the room at large, explaining, “Ya know he’s been worried somepony would come fer us since even ‘afore the train. The whole room’s a safe, darn near.” He walks to the right wall and gives it a firm rap and, as Haze had determined with his aura, proves that the wall is not hollow like a typical interior wall would be.

“Steel?” Haze guesses.

“Several layers of steel, titanium, ceramics, and living matter to prevent somepony burrowing through with Transmutation,” Cure answers. “The door’s the same way,” he adds, lighting his horn to swing the door halfway shut to show that below the surface it is a thick plate of steel as well. “The only way anypony is getting in is through the ground, and that’s where most of my plant is, so may the maker have mercy on them if they try that route. Now, none of that really matters for our purposes tonight. Like I said at dinner, I have somewhat of a proposal for any or all of you, but Solar in particular.

“I have privacy wards set up in the walls, so I would ask you to trust me a little and come in where I can ensure there’s no way anypony could possibly listen in on us.” Haze immediately trots inside to stand between Deed and his son and, though her anxiety seems to be ratcheting up, Emerald steels herself and joins her husband on his right, pressed tightly to his side. Vines follows and squeezes between her husband and the wall, standing to the far right of the group.

With everypony inside, Cure pushes the heavy door the rest of the way shut and seals them all inside. His horn flashes and glowing lines of enchanted circuitry briefly illuminate on the walls and ceiling, encasing the room in a privacy spell. It’s nowhere near as powerful as the princess’s, but until his alicorn abilities begin to manifest it’s the best solution he has available.

“Alright, so Dawn, Solar, and Starlight already know some of this, but the full breadth of what I can do is not something I have shared with anypony but my parents. Solar leaving town for a few months gives me a bit of an opportunity I felt I couldn’t completely ignore.”

The stallion in question cocks a brow and asks, “How so?”

“What I propose is that I, essentially, remake you. All of you, if you’d like.” He turns to his friend’s parents and explains, “You’ll be better than you were at your prime. Stronger, faster, tougher, better coordinated. You’ll cast faster and more accurately, you won’t have to worry about miscast feedback or spell interruptions. You’ll regenerate magic slightly faster. You’ll never again feel pain, get sick, or, unless you’re starving yourself, feel exhausted. You’ll still need sleep, but that ‘it’s five o’clock and I’m ready for bed’ feeling will be a thing of the past.”

Their eyes widen and brows climb with each benefit listed.

“You’ll have perfect eyes, hearing, skin, and teeth. Your coat, mane, and tail will always be vibrant, well oiled, and healthy looking. Hay, I’ll even make you taller or your horn bigger if you want me to. I recall you,” he nods to Emerald, “said you had difficulty nursing when they were born. Stuff like that won’t be a problem if you decide to have more foals.

“Anything you would like, biologically speaking, I can do right here in this room in a matter of minutes or hours, depending. Want wings? Not probably a great idea until the boss lady says it’s okay, but I could give ‘em to ya. Talons, claws, a layer of dragon scales under your coat, bones as tough as steel? Just say the word.

“The only thing I ask is that you not tell anypony I can do this. Call it a Royal Decree if you must; Harmony knows I’ll rarely ever use those except to safeguard my privacy. I’ve spent a great deal of time coming up with solutions to health problems that don’t require my direct intervention. There’s no way I can think of that would let me share this with the world at large. This is much more of a close friends and family only kind of deal.

“To be completely frank, we,” he waves between himself and the two elder unicorns, “aren’t quite that close. I’m including you in this conversation because despite him being an adult, he is your foal. This isn’t exactly something that I could keep secret from you forever. No offense.”

The two share a look. Haze turns back to Cure, shrugs helplessly, and nods. “That’s fair.”

“I don’t get it,” Solar finally comments. “What’s special about this room? You could do all that anywhere, best I can tell.”

“Mass. There’s no way for me to easily add mass to another pony anywhere else. I can’t really remake bones and vital organs easily out there on the street without emaciating somepony as I change their fat reserves, but here? I can do anything you can imagine, and probably quite a few things you can’t. Right now you probably weigh about one forty, right?”

“A little more since I’m, basically, fully grown now.”

“And you have almost no fat on you.”

“Right.”

“So if you wanted to be a half hoof more broad and a hoof taller, then this,” he lightly stamps a hoof on the floor, “is where I can make that happen easily and all at once, instead of taking almost an entire year like it has for my sire. Back when you were enlisting I couldn’t do much ‘cause I was still hiding.” He pulls a rolled scroll from his mane and floats it to the young stallion. “Now I can act a little more freely.”

Solar takes it in his magic and unrolls it. His parents, sister, and marefriend all lean in to read at the same time.

Official memorandum from His Royal Highness, Prince Serpentus of Equestria:

Corporal Solar Strike has undergone highly classified medical procedures resulting in increased physical and magical performance. Any questions, concerns, or issues are to be brought to the attention of myself via any means necessary.

It is hereby ordered that none, save under the direct, explicit orders of Her Majesty, Princess Celestia, should attempt to analyze, extract, or replicate any abnormality detected in Solar Strike’s physiology, nor should the nature of said abnormalities be publicly and/or privately discussed beyond what is absolutely necessary for the fulfillment of the corporal’s duties and obligations to the crown.

Any and all unauthorized disclosure of the existence of, the nature of, or the results of these procedures not directly and explicitly approved by Her Majesty, Princess Celestia, or His Highness, Prince Serpentus, will result in the most severe of disciplinary measures possible.

Any authorized disclosures are to be reported to His Highness, Prince Serpentus, within seventy-two hours of the disclosure incident. Failure to do so will result in disciplinary measures.

Regards,
His Royal Highness, Prince Serpentus
11 AUG 909 AB

The colt’s mark is embossed to the side of his name and title at the bottom.

“Huh,” Solar grunts. “I suspect that oughta do the trick.”

“I do believe it would,” his sire agrees. He leans forward to look more closely at Cure’s signature, staring intently for several seconds. “Did you sign this… in blood?!”

“Of course he/I did,” Dawn and Cure simultaneously answer; her tone with a complete lack of surprise and his as if it’s the only possible thing he could have ever signed it with.

She scowls at him, sighing when he responds with a beaming smile.

“Nopony screws around when you sign something in blood, sarge. There’s not a whole lot’a ways to more directly show that I mean business. Besides, it’s not like I’m running outta the stuff. If we only count what’s in my plant then there’s way more blood-like liquid in this house than there is water.”

Emerald grimaces and looks at the vine-covered ceiling somewhat warily.

“I don’t think that’s very comforting, honey.”

“Eh, it’s still true, but ya gotta keep in mind that, aside from the water heater, the only water in the house is what’s in the pipes, the fridge, and the freezer, and most of the pipes are only a few centimeters in diameter. We’re getting distracted, though.”

Cure focuses on Solar and makes his pitch, “I’m going to ask that you trust me here, bro. What I propose is that next Saturday morning you come over here and hop up on this couch for a quick nap while I do my thing. When you wake up you’ll be the very epitome of unicorn-kind. It’ll take a little bit for me to show you how the upgrades all work, but you’ll adapt in no time.

“With you going away for a few months there’s no better time to do it. The ponies at Maelstrom won’t know anything’s different, aside from a few you’ll have to show that letter to. As for anypony here, they won’t see you for nearly four months. You’ll be able to wave it away as classified special training or whatever to your friends. You have a whole week to decide what all you want done, if anything, but, like I said, golden opportunity here.”

“I imagine you are proposing something similar to your sire’s treatment for us,” Haze waves between his wife, Starlight, and himself, “should we wish the same?”

“Exactly. I could do the same thing I’m suggesting with Solar, but it’s going to be even more proof that Prince Serpentus is here in Golden Hills. A couple ponies in their thirties suddenly growing another hoof ain’t exactly subtle. Spread it over a year and only ponies you know will ever notice at all, and most of them will write it off as them forgetting how tall you were before.

“If you want to be here at the house, or even in the room during the procedure, that’s fine with me. I will have to g-tube him to add mass, so seeing your son like that may be a little upsetting.”

Solar’s snout scrunches in distaste at the idea of a tube being crammed down his throat.

“Don’t worry, dude,” Cure assures him, “you won’t feel a thing before, during, or after.”

Deed quietly shakes in laughter, unnoticed by all but his son and wife. The latter scowls at her husband and gets an exaggerated innocent smile in return.

“What about me?!” Dawn hotly asks.

“Only if your parents say it’s okay. They’re all adults and you’re not yet.”

“No,” Emerald immediately insists. “It’s not that I don’t trust your abilities, Cure, but she is still a growing filly.”

Before she can throw a fit, Cure quickly interjects, “That’s a valid point and is the same reason I haven’t done anything significant with my sisters except Savvy’s wings, which should grow normally. You wouldn’t benefit from most of this right now and, without my guidance, I can’t be sure what impact the changes could have as you mature. It’s much safer and easier if we at least wait until you’re into your early to mid teens.”

“We’re takin tha same approach with all’a the foals, Dawn girl. Don’t let it upset ya.”

“Right. Besides, babe, it ain’t like either of us is goin anywhere. So…” he pauses, turning back to the adults, “I’m not expecting any immediate yes’s or anything, and I don’t expect you to just give me carte blanche to do whatever. I mean, if you do I think you’ll be pretty friggin happy when ya wake up, but, meh,” he finishes with a shrug of his wings.

“I’m interested,” Haze says, “but you’ll forgive me if I’m somewhat selective regarding exactly what you’re doing.”

“Gleaming?” Cure is somewhat relieved when the mare’s tone is more of questioning concern rather than outright refusal. He’d been fairly sure she would be demanding to be let out of the room by now, but can only assume that she’s grown to trust him sufficiently to not instantly reject the offer. Either that or the potential is just so great that she can’t bring herself to say no out of hoof. Given her worried scent, he’s leaning more towards the latter.

“What, dear? This is, quite literally, something many creatures would kill for. I am sure many have killed for far less, in fact. Unless there is a valid reason to decline then I fully intend to accept his offer.”

The mare worries her lip, glancing between the colt and her husband. “Is it safe?”

“Absolutely, one hundred percent safe, Mrs. Aura. You’re infinitely more at risk going to sleep in your own bed on any given night than you are going through with this. I mean… Not to toot my own horn, but you’re standing in the very seat of power of the Alicorn of Life, here. I know I’m still a ‘baby’ alicorn, but Death has no Authority within the bounds of my Domain.”

Everpony, Cure included, freezes in shock at the way his declaration reverberates within the room. He coughs to clear his throat and gives an abashed smile. “Didn’t quite mean to put so much force behind that.” Seeking to quickly move on, he proposes, “How about I show you what I plan, or at least, what my ‘ultimate package’ would entail?”

It takes a few seconds for everypony to recover from the experience. “No, that won’t be nec -” Emerald finally begins, pausing when Haze interrupts with an upraised hoof, “Now hold on, dear. I’d like to have an idea of what he has in mind.”

“Okay. Just don’t freak out,” he insists, hopping up on the couch. “This may look somewhat odd, but there’s only so much I can do to pretty-up biological modification.”

A large vine pokes up through the floor to the left of the colt, the end of which begins rapidly swelling into a leafy green sphere. As the bulb continues to grow, Cure explains, “So what I’m doing right now is, basically, making a copy of Solar as he is now. It won’t have a brain, which now that I say it out loud, isn’t a significant change from the original.”

“Har, har, jerk,” the young stallion replies, talking overtop the quiet chuckles from everypony else.

The bulb splits open to reveal a duplicate of the unicorn laying in the ponyloaf position. The leaves retract up into a single vine that is attached to the clone’s withers. It opens its eyes and stands, looking around the room in wonder, then focuses on the original’s parents. “Hey dad, hey dam. What’s shakin?” it asks in an exact duplicate of their son’s voice.

“I don’t sound like that,” Solar weakly complains at the same time Haze gasps, softly murmuring, “Maker above. That’s incredible!”

The clone buffs a hoof on his chest and proudly declares, “Darn right I am. Way better than that old thing,” it taunts, motioning to the real Solar who scowls in response. It turns to Starlight and takes a step closer, waggling its brows. Standing tall and proud, it flexes its pecs and in a deep, sultry voice, says, “Hey there, good lookin. How ‘bout you ditch the loser and come hang out with a real stallion, hmm?”

Shouts of “Cure!” ring out from Solar, Dawn, and his dam all at once.

Starlight giggles and steps closer to her beau, pressing against him with her right side and nuzzling into his cheek. “As much as I appreciate the offer, I think I’m good for now.”

“Fiiine!” the clone petulantly whines. He turns and blows a raspberry at Dawn as he steps back to Cure’s left.

The colt looks up at the doppelganger and loudly complains, “I swear, I don’t know why you can’t just behave yourself.”

“Oh like you’re one to talk,” it sarcastically quips. “I learned it from you, ya know?”

“I’m a perfect gentlestallion! Aren’t I, Dawn?”

“I’m staying out of this,” she defers.

“See?” the clone exclaims, waving a hoof at the filly. “You can’t even get your own fillyfriend to agree, ya cretin.”

“I’mma tell ya the same thing my dam always tells me: I brought you into this world, I can take ya outta it whenever I want!”

“I don’t remember saying that,” Vines pouts.

“Yeah?!” the clone insistently asks, reaching over to shove the colt’s side.

“This is bizarre,” Haze quietly comments.

“Yeah!” Cure responds, smacking the hoof away. His horn lights up and blasts a harmless illusory bolt at the clone, who immediately falls and rolls onto his back with his legs sticking straight up into the air.

“Ahh! You got me! I’m like, super dead and stuff ‘cause of how weak I am!”

Solar huffs in annoyance.

“That’ll learn ya, punk.”

His sire clears his throat and suggests, “Maybe ya oughta get on with it, son.”

“No fun,” he grouses. “Alright,” he begins, wrapping the clone back in the wooden shell, “out with the old, shoddy construction and in with the new and improved, Solar Strike Mark Two-X.”

While Cure is working, Haze leans to his right and whispers over his wife’s withers to Deed, “Does he really do that whole iteration bit with everything?”

The dark stallion sighs and ruefully nods. “Darn near. Can’t deny it’s useful ta know when a new version comes out, even if I don’t quite get the whole ‘firmware upgrade’ thing he goes on ‘bout.”

It only takes a moment for the shell to split open again, this time revealing a taller, wider, and far more physically intimidating version of Solar Strike. “Behold, the Solar Strike of the future. Better. Stronger. Faster. Superior to the original in every way!”

“You’re kinda starting to hurt my feelings over here,” Solar mildly complains.

“Sorry, bro, but this could be you, if you’d like. Nature builds optimized for survival, but it doesn’t improve very quickly. It finds something that works, but doesn’t tend to change much until that suddenly stops working or until some freak mutation comes along that wipes out the original.

“This,” he waves to the clone, “is the culmination of the best of everything nature has to offer that I’ve found so far. Mostly. I didn’t go all out since it’s just for a quick demo, granted. Still, eyes keener than a griffon, hearing better than a bat, bones like steel, armored skin like a dragon, redundant backup cardiopulmonary systems, a significantly strengthened spine, neck, and cranium, vastly improved digestive system… The list really just goes on and on.”

Cure makes the clone walk out into the center of the room and stand at attention. It’s as tall as an earth pony stallion, though slightly slimmer, but still bulkier than the real Solar Strike. The horn is easily twenty-five centimeters long, almost half again an average unicorn’s length, and proportionally thicker at the base. Even the young stallion has to admit that Cure lived up to his boast; if this isn’t an apex unicorn he can’t fathom what could be.

“You said my magic regeneration would be increased?” he timidly asks. “That’s kind of important, you know… going into the Artillery Division.”

“Not by a whole lot, but yes. I’m sure you’ve all heard that the more physically fit you are, the more magic capacity you have?”

All five unicorns voice their agreement.

“It’s not wrong, but also not completely accurate. A portion of your magic generation happens in your physical body. The more mass and, especially, the less fat you have, the more magic you generate. It’s why you get a boost when you sugar up after doing a lot of casting; you’re burning sugar to produce magical energy. Now that’s only on the physical side of things, of course.

“On the metaphysical side… I’m not sure how it all works. Obviously, the more you use magic and, specifically, the more you do work related to your special talent, the more your magic grows. Mrs. Aura, I bet since you’ve been working at the hospital with your talent you’ve probably seen a small uptick, right?”

The mare frowns in thought, unprepared to be called upon. She slowly nods yes and answers, “I had assumed it was simply because I was using magic more frequently.”

“Some, but I’m sure some also comes from sharing your talents more often. Mr. Haze, how often do you use your talent?”

“Not… very often. I’ve found it’s not that useful.”

“I have a hard time believing that.” Cure glances at the stallion’s flanks; something that, in public, can be seen as rude but is socially acceptable to do when specifically discussing special talents in private company. Gleaming’s mark is an indistinct golden cloud with a pair of eyes staring out. “I’m guessing between your mark and your name you have some talent to create a smoke screen?”

The stallion’s brows shoot up in surprise as he slowly nods. “Something along those lines, yes.”

“Can you see through it?”

“I can.”

“Can you let other ponies see through it?”

The stallion hesitates for a moment. “I… uhh… I don’t know. Not to my knowledge?” he answers with a questioning lilt.

“Can you control the size, shape, thickness?”

Each question causes the stallion to cringe slightly until he admits, “Somewhat. Truthfully, I’ve never really experimented with it.”

“Why?!”

“I haven’t had any particular need to blind anypony.”

“You’re a guard.”

“Very astute of you to notice.” Emerald jabs him in his right shoulder and scowls. “I’m only teasing!”

“He means you could blind ponies that you have to arrest, daddy.”

“Stunning them is easier, glowbug.”

“It would be amazing on a battlefield,” Cure notes. “How big and thick can you make it and how long can you keep it up?” Deed chokes back a laugh while his wife sighs to his right. “What?” the colt innocently asks the room. “The size and thickness of the haze is crucially important, dad! Just as important as making sure he doesn’t peter out right away from using it! What’s funny about that?!”

“Maker above,” Emerald groans. Starlight wheezes trying to hold in her laughter while Solar facehooves. Dawn just looks between everypony in confusion.

The sergeant awkwardly clears his throat and stoically answers, “The haze is plenty large enough, and has sufficient reserves, I assure you.”

Deed leans in front of Emerald to quietly whisper, “Glad yer not lackin confidence, sarge, but talkin in the third pony is kinda strange.”

Emerald closes her eyes and despondently sighs. “Stallions…”

Cure holds his hooves up placatingly and nods in acceptance. “Okay, fair enough. Still, we should test your talent at some point and see exactly how much control you have over it. We’re getting way off topic again, though. Solar? Starlight? What are your thoughts here?”

“If it’s safe,” Starlight begins, heavily emphasizing the word, “then I don’t see a downside.” She bumps Solar’s hip and says, “Everything else Cure has done has worked really well. I honestly can’t think of a single reason to say no. Most of what you listed is completely useless to me, but I’d still be thrilled just to have the cosmetic parts if nothing else. I would love to be able to get up without a mess of a mane every morning.”

“Again, it’s one hundred percent safe. I promise. I would never have made the suggestion if it wasn’t. It’s also completely reversible if you hate it, which I know you won’t. I sure as heck haven’t regretted anything I’ve done to myself.” He thinks back to the coronation prank and grimaces. “Except one, I suppose.”

“Still can’t believe you did that,” his dam grumbles, looking away to avoid meeting his eyes. As much as he finds the whole thing hilarious, the fact that his dam is ashamed of it still stabs into his heart.

“Right,” he sighs. “Live and learn.”

“You’re not going to do anything weird like… pull my brain out and stick it in that, are you?”

The suggestion alone elicits a sharp intake of air from the stallion’s dam and a smothering spike of anxiety indicating pheromones to explode out.

“Absolutely not. I wouldn’t need to g-tube you to do that, but even though the possibility didn’t escape me, I ruled it out primarily because I don’t know what kind of impact that would have on your ‘metaphysical self.’ No, I’ll be going about this another route. Your body will still be you, just with a bunch of extra mass added to it, which will also be you.”

Solar gives the colt a doubtful look.

“You’ll come in, lay down, fall asleep, then I’ll alter your digestive tract and feed you the mass needed to fuel the additions. Food becomes ‘you’ once fully digested. You won’t wake up feeling sick or bloated or anything, so don’t worry.”

“His ma watched ‘em do the same thing to himself,” Deed interrupts. “She said it weren’t pretty, but that’s mainly ‘cause he was eatin a tree an’ doin so much at once he had’ta give ‘himself a bunch’a extra teeth and whatnot.”

A much more calmed Emerald regards the colt whose withers barely reach her barrel. “You ate an entire tree? At once?”

“I urgently needed the mass for a project,” he weakly shrugs. “Besides, it was more like a third of a tree, and only of what you see above ground. It also took a few hours and was like… eight or so times as much mass as what I’ll need to give him, so nothing so dramatic is necessary here.

“I could simply graft the extra mass onto you like a transplant, but I don’t really want to add thirty, forty percent of your mass onto you like that. We start wading into the whole ‘metaphysical self’ issue again, potentially, and I would much prefer to entirely sidestep that potential issue. It may not matter at all, but I’m not gonna experiment on anypony like that.”

“What’s that mean, exactly?” Emerald inquires.

“Metaphysical self?”

She nods.

“You are you. Every bit of you is part of you because you consumed it in one way or another, your cells processed it, and it became part of you. That means you, as a whole, are a single entity, both physically and spiritually, or, metaphysically. You have been wholly and completely you from, at the very least, the moment you were born up to this point.

“If you were to be injured or had some disease and needed a transplant then that transplant wouldn’t actually become ‘you’ for about a week. Mom - Title, that is - and I tested it when I grafted a small patch of skin onto her. It took a little under a week for it to become part of her instead of me, so -”

“How - sorry to interrupt - but how were you able to determine whether it was ‘you’ or ‘her?’” Haze asks.

“I can tell by how much magic it takes to use my talent on something. In her case, we waited a day and I tried changing the color of the patch of grafted skin, then we waited two, three, and so on days between attempts. It was noticeably more difficult to change when I had waited five days to interact with it, presumably because by then her blood and body had been supplying it nutrients, thus making it ‘her’ at some point between four and five days.”

“That’s… quite fascinating, actually,” the stallion muses. “So I suppose the concern, then, would be that having a significant portion of one’s mass being transplanted could interfere with their magic or alter the definition of that pony’s metaphysical being?”

Cure nods and adds, “Or worse. Or do nothing. I don’t know. I’m not gonna experiment on somepony to find where that tipping point is, assuming there even is one. Maybe it doesn’t matter at all as long as your brain is still functional. I’m not exactly big on pony experimentation, sarge, so unless somepony has everything from their neck down destroyed and I have to rebuild them from scratch we’ll probably never know.”

“And we’re all relieved to hear that,” he assures the colt. “Though, again, we’ve strayed from the topic at hoof somewhat, even if this is quite interesting.” He turns to his son and says, “You are an adult. You’ve been informed of the potential benefits and, in this case, the lack of potential pitfalls. It sounds to me like you…” he glances between the two teens, “both of you, have some decisions to make, as do we,” he finishes, leaning into his wife. “Unless anypony has further questions,” he pauses, glancing around the room to see if anypony speaks up, “then I believe we should retire before it gets too dark out.”

“Sure thing,” the colt agrees. He encases the clone in a shell and begins dissolving it once it’s no longer visible, “though if you have just a second, sarge, I wouldn’t mind speaking to you in private for a moment.”

The stallion nods in acceptance despite the oddity of the request and the concern Emerald can’t help but show. Once the clone is fully reabsorbed and the vine withdraws back under the couch, Cure dispels the privacy screen and unlocks the door. Everypony but the sergeant makes their way out, Emerald stealing glances over her withers a couple times on the way. “You’ll have him back in ten minutes, tops, Mrs. Aura,” he assures her.

“I’ll be right out, dear,” Haze echoes as the two are finally left alone. The door swings shut, the privacy field reactivates, and the stallion turns to regard the colt with a curious look.

“Damn, sarge… she’s acting like I’m gonna freaking eat you or something if you’re left alone with me. Seriously, what the hay could I possibly have done that worries her so much?!”

The stallion’s shoulders and neck sag as he shakes his head. “I really do not know, Cure. I can only assume that she fears somepony she believes she previously offended having so much authority over her. There’s also the fact that you just casually made a perfect duplicate of our son on a whim, seemingly largely for your own amusement.”

Cure cocks his head to the side in confusion. “That wasn’t a copy at all. It just looked and sounded like him. I even said it didn’t have a brain. You, or nearly any unicorn on the planet, could do the same thing with an Illusion in like three seconds.”

“And yet, that Illusion would fail under any number of scenarios. What could stop you from actually making an exact duplicate?”

“My morality, which, by now, should be worthy of some significant trust.” Not finished with his answer, he holds up a hoof to forestall the sergeant’s response. “Beyond that, my respect for the sanctity of life; a key and crucial requirement, I suspect, for anypony that would bear such a mantle. I can’t fathom what the artificial creation of a sapient being would result in. Perhaps a typical pony. Perhaps something other. I have absolutely no desire to test those waters, Mr. Haze.”

The stallion takes a deep breath and bows his head in acceptance. “I did not intend to sound accusatory. I can only say that seeing something that so accurately matched my son, but wasn’t him, was somewhat unsettling. I would not be surprised if the impact was the same, or more significant, for my wife.”

Cure can’t help but sigh. Celestia has specifically warned him how easily he could inadvertently scare ponies, and here he was doing exactly that to the parents of two of his closest friends. “Then I owe you both an apology. Dawn and Solar too, I suppose. I figured a show of ability would help cut back her anxiety.”

“I don’t believe she has any real doubt in your ability, Cure. She even said as much only a few moments ago. She’s seen enough of what you can do. You will simply never understand how much a parent worries about their foal until you have one yourself.”

“Fair. So… yeah, sorry for freaking you out, Mr. Haze. I’ll say the same to the missus when we’re done here.”

Haze gives the colt an easy smile. “Apology accepted.” The stallion’s lips twitch upwards as he comments, “Of course, that whole thing with your voice and glowing eyes probably didn’t help much.”

“Myeyeswhatnow?!”

“Glowed,” he slowly repeats, drawing the single syllable out for a couple seconds.

The colt frowns, furrowing his brow in confusion. “Huh. That’s really freaking weird. I wonder what could possibly cause my eyes, of all things, to glow.”

Haze idly shrugs and explains, “It happens to unicorns when channeling large amounts of magic. I’m sure somepony explained the theory to me at some point, but aside from the details going well over my head, all I recall is the oft-repeated cliché that eyes are the window to one’s soul. Perhaps it is something you should inquire with her majesty about.”

“Yeah, that may be a good idea. I’ve heard that one too, but I’ll check with the boss lady when I talk to her.”

“Excellent. Regardless, I hope you are aware that I do not share my wife’s concerns.” He glances around the room and blithely adds, “Though I suppose that is obvious, or I would not be here. Alone.”

“Right. So, serious subject time, sarge. I’m going to propose something that I think should only be discussed in private. Technically there’s no reason Mrs. Aura couldn’t be present for this, but I thought you may want to surprise her instead. I only ask that we approach the subject as if we’re medical professionals and not a couple of blushing fillies. Can you do that for me?”

It only takes a second of thought before he nods. “I can.”

“Great. I’m going to be completely blunt. It’s not just vaginas that I can upgrade, as I’m sure everypony has figured out, even if nopony is willing to say it out loud. There’s absolutely nothing wrong with a typical penis, but there’s also nothing wrong with one that’s a few steps beyond average.”

Despite his assurance, the unicorn can’t help but begin to blush. It’s easy for the colt to spot his forced stoic expression. Cure maintains eye contact as he continues, “Size and shape are two obvious things I can change, but I can also make it more flexible, stronger, and capable of altering its surface slightly to increase or decrease pressure in specific spots as desired, a useful feature as not all pleasurable nerve clusters are placed in the same spots, and I understand that sometimes something will feel better or worse on any given night.”

“How could you possibly -” Haze begins.

“Mares talk. A lot. My hearing is very sharp.”

Haze cringes, but nods minutely. “Ah.”

“Yeah. So anyhow, I can also add musculature at the base similar to what’s in a horn,” he explains as he points to his own horn and flexes the muscles, causing it to vibrate without any magic effects, “which is… effective, or so I have, unfortunately, heard. Several times. Seriously, buy a Sound Bubble crystal for Dawn’s sake, please. I have a spare you can just take with you if you want.

“Further, a pony’s refractory period can be cut down to nearly zero, so the whole ‘once and done’ can be a thing of the past. I mean, the tap will still eventually run dry, but that doesn’t mean you have to stop pumping.”

The sergeant’s blush intensifies and his eyes widen.

“You weren’t the only one to notice those three’s dalliance last weekend,” Cure dryly remarks.

Haze sighs and shakes his head in disappointment.

“Finally, I can also grant far more conscious control over everything. Want to have another daughter someday? Another son? I can give you a mental switch to control that, or so you can still enjoy yourselves without the risk of pregnancy. I can do all that in just a few minutes and you’ll walk out that door with nopony the wiser. I mean, they’ll probably guess, but unless you tell, this stays between me and you exclusively. At least, until you decide to enlighten the missus about our discussion. I am the Alicorn of Life, Mr. Haze. The creation and celebration of life is central to my domain.”

Haze takes a moment to process all that and slowly nods in acceptance. “Maker have mercy… you really just came out and said it, didn’t you?”

Cure bobs his head and lightly chuckles. “I warned ya.”

“True. You did.” The stallion lets out another sigh and rubs a fetlock against his brow. “I’m not exactly sure how to respond, given that you’re nine years old.” He blatantly grimaces and adds, “And, essentially, courting my daughter, no less.”

Cure idly shrugs and asks, “You want grandfoals to spoil eventually, right?”

“Of course!”

“There’s a pretty finite number of ways that’ll happen, sarge. I’m guessing that, all things considered, you’d prefer to think that neither of your foals is with somepony that fails to address their needs, even if you would prefer to stay ignorant regarding to what degree those needs are being met.”

“I certainly would,” he agrees, still cringing heavily. “On both counts. Regardless,” he sighs shaking his head in resignation, “I cannot deny that your suggestion, while immensely difficult to discuss, is not a completely unappealing prospect.”

“Then say yes. It’ll feel weird and I’ll need a minute or two to show you how a couple things work. Physical therapy for new nerve endings, more or less. You may need to duck into a bathroom when you get home to experiment, but if I hear a single complaint from you or the wife, except maybe that you left her exhausted, then I’ll be well and truly shocked. So,” he extends his hoof, “what do you say, sergeant?”

Author's Note

Definitely had some alternative titles for the chapter.
Welcome to My Tentacle Dungeon
His Highness Issues Royal Decree: STFU
Horny Family Comes ~~at~~ to Dinner
Cure Offers to Fill Solar with Life
Addressing Performance Issues
Lemme Cram My Life Tube in Ya & Pump Ya Up
Unicorns Sample Cure's Meat, Approve Overwhelmingly
Cure Shares the Gift That Keeps On Giving

Yeah, the list goes on. There might just be something wrong with me.

Anyhow, Cure finally reveals almost the full breadth of his abilities. Obviously that doesn't exactly wipe away Emerald's maybe-slightly-reasonable fear of the colt, but, at the end of the day, who could say no to all of that? Can she say no?

There's also the unspoken assumption that his family has already been similarly modified, though I considered adding some conversation regarding that. Ultimately, the chapter was bloating, I felt, so I moved on.

We get to hear, if from a second-hand source, what the plan is in regards to Cure's need for a body double here. It sounds like it should throw off the townsponies, right? Guess we'll have to wait and see if it works out like they're planning. Hopefully nothing big happens in the meantime that blows his cover, huh?

I guess we'll just have to wait and see.

I think I should have a chapter ready next week, but I ended up having to scrap chunks of what would have been 93 to take it in another direction, so no promises. If I'm not publishing a chapter next Monday I'll at least pop in and add a comment, as I always do.

Until then, have a great week and, as always, thanks for reading, rating, and especially, taking the time to comment!

Chapter 93: Baby's First Steps

Sunday, August 16th, 909 AB (the next morning)

Lemon Sweet can’t really imagine what her last life must have been like, assuming she even had one at all. She understands that they may never truly find an answer to the colt’s predicament, but she’s quite confident at this point that if she did, in fact, have a past life, she must have done something incredibly right.

Sprawled out on a couch in the living room, she has to fight to hold back the deep, highly inappropriate sounding moan that threatens to escape her lips. Her first wife isn’t any better; Amethyst is similarly laid out on the next couch over, both of them receiving massages that she’s not sure the maker herself could hope to match.

A tiny part of her brain was wary about climbing under the multi-limbed stalk hanging down from the ceiling, but she knows Cure would sooner cut off his own head than let anypony harm his family, so she metaphorically kicked that concern’s teeth in and hopped right up on the couch. Granted, the colt cutting off his head is probably something he would do for a cheap laugh if his dam hadn’t already firmly told him not to.

Life is kind of weird sometimes.

Either way, prey-brained Lemon is an idiot and can shut its dumb mouth, and massage-brained Lemon is one happy camper.

“I wanna know,” her beautiful gem begins, pausing to slurp back the line of drool that she nearly let fall on the couch, “how in tarnation yer doin all this at once, colt.”

The Alicorn of Ecstasy deftly flips the pancakes out of the pans onto their waiting plates and casually answers over his withers, “Same way ya get good at anything, ma. Practice, practice, practice. Besides, you know I’m cheating as much as a cheater can possibly cheat. By the way, I’ll have your breakfast started in a minute. You wanna wait a while or do ya want me to stop so you can eat?”

Title calls back from the nursery, asking, “Can you bring us ours?”

“You bet. Incoming, ma!” The colt’s horn ignites and three plates disappear in a flash.

“Thanks, sport!”
“Thank you, honey.”
“Thanks, babe! The service here is top notch!”

“I’ll second that,” the yellow mare finds herself slurring in agreement.

“What about you two?” he calls, turning their direction. “I can’t exactly give you a massage while you’re eating, but if you want to wait...”

“Nah,” Amethyst grunts, struggling to get her hooves under herself. “I’m starvin, colt. Much as I’d love ta stay right here all day, I need to eat somethin. Thanks a million, though. Ya got us right spoiled, tell ya what.”

A plaintive whine escapes Lemon when the plant retracts into the ceiling.

“Sure thing, ma. Gimme a sec and I’ll have yours for ya. Then I need to get ready and head out. How do ya want yer coffee?”

“Strong and dark, just like my stallion,” Amethyst quips as she slinks over to the table and plops down, leaning heavily against it while fighting to recover from the colt’s ministrations. “Where ya headed out to? Ya do realize it’s Sunday, dontchya?”

“Sure do. Gonna go visit grandpa real quick.” He pauses to flip both flapjacks and, while pouring them a couple mugs of life-giving brew, explains, “I need ta see about arranging a carriage for Solar and his friends next week. I figure gramps may have somepony under him that’s willing to earn a little OT. Also gotta pick up my mail and start making plans for my Fillydelphia excursion.”

He cranes his head back and calls to the front of the house, “Hey! Did y’all decide who’s come with me to Fillydelphia next month?”

“Reckon that’d be me,” Amethyst answers as his sire yells back, “Plan’s fer Amy ta go with ya!”

“And we have a consensus,” the colt nods. “Works for me. Ya know, ma, we really oughta start lookin for a nice house we can flip.”

“I’m up fer tryin,” she confirms with a nod. “Seems only right I help out what with the fillies gettin older ‘n V doin so much. Only so much housekeepin ta be done between that two ‘a us.”

“Sweet. Hey Pa!” he shouts out again, “Can you bring home a listing of homes for sale either here or in Baltimare tomorrow? Might be best to try a local one first, ya think?”

“You bet, sport. I’ll bring one home for ya.”

“Cool,” he more quietly mumbles.

Two pancakes lift out of the pans and onto their plates while another couple massive dollops of berry-filled batter are squirted down to take their places. As is appropriate for pony pancakes, the batter completely fills the bottom of each two and a half hoof skillet, making each serving easily three or four times as large as Ed used to make. Despite the pan being completely filled, flipping the monsters is far easier than it normally would be thanks to the utter ridiculous flexibility of a horn’s aura.

The colt continues idly chatting as he cooks, “It would be awesome if we could find a couple really run down ones in nice areas for cheap. Should be able to fix damn near anything in a few days and mark it up twenty, thirty percent or more over what we pay for it.”

“Sounds ‘bout right ta me, colt. Maybe I oughta talk to yer sire ‘bout gettin inta the business with this whole merger plan. Bettin I’d make a dern good appraiser or price consultant or whatnot.”

“I think the bank does the actual appraisal, but being able to tell a seller what they oughta be listin the house for would be a helluva lot of help. It’d be great on the buying side too; bein able to tell when you’ve got a good deal or if somepony’s tryin ta rip folks off.”

“Always knew you could make a mint with that talent,” Lemon comments, scooting closer to touch sides with her wife. She plants small kisses all up her neck, saying, “I’m glad you’ll finally get to shine, babe.”

Amethyst huffs in faux annoyance, gently pushing her wife’s focus back to her food. The light darkening of her ears and small smile don’t escape either pony’s notice, but neither Cure nor Lemon are bold enough to suggest the gruff mare is actually blushing. The challenging scowl she sends the pair reinforces that decision as they refocus on their work; one making the last couple flapjacks, the other devouring the one in front of her.

A moment of quiet passes over the three as they busy themselves. The last couple pancakes finish cooking, then appear, exactly as if by magic, on the two plates. A couple more mouth-full grunted thanks sound out as he Cleans the pans and sets them aside to cool. He fetches a bowl out of the cabinet and coaxes the plant to fill it with enough batter for the lazy foals still in bed.

“Here’s some for the girls, whenever they decide to get up,” he tells them as he makes his way around the table. He rears up and glomps on Lemon’s side, wrapping the mare in a quick wing hug and nuzzling against her chest. She passes her fork to her left hoof to give the colt a squeeze, releasing him when he shifts to make his way to her wife to do the same. He knows the relationship between himself and his newer moms isn’t nearly as strong as it is with Title, but he’d promised them and himself he would never treat them any differently for it.

He heads up towards the nursery as the pair work on their meal, stopping to climb on his sire’s back as the stallion cuts off tiny, syrup-saturated pieces to feed to the twins. “Headin out sport?”

“Yeah. Gonna go pick up my mail and maybe talk to Grandma Sabre about something.”

“Oh? Finally gonna ask yer grandma fer some sword lessons?”

“You bet. I can’t believe it took me so long to realize I could. When did you figure it out?”

“‘Bout when Onyx drooled on tha thing back in Canterlot.”

“Ah. Well… I feel kinda dumb then.”

“Ain’t no shame in it, colt. Just keep an eye aboutchya. Ya know yer dam worries somethin fierce.”

Cure lightens himself and hops off his sire, flapping once to gently land on his dam instead. Wings and forelegs wrap the mare’s shoulders and neck in a hug as he nuzzles into her bright yellow mane. “Don’t worry ‘bout me, dam. Even when I’m not in the air and invisible there’s not more than a few creatures on the planet that would last more’n a couple seconds if they tried something. I know you’ll still worry no matter what I say, but really, there’s just no reason to.”

“I know that, sweetie,” she insists, leaning back into the hug, “and you know that it doesn’t matter. I’ll still always worry.”

“Yeah,” he sighs, nodding against the back of her head. “Haze said the same thing, more or less, last night.”

“You mean when you were giving him the super dong five thousand?” Title asks with a laugh.

“Phrasin, babe,” Deed chuckles.

“C’mon ma, I don’t go blastin your private info all over the place.”

“You all but told them you gave both of us your upgrade just last night!”

“You spoke up first!” he insists, pointing a hoof in accusation.

“You did,” his dam agrees with a nod. “You’re the one that said it helped with Savvy. I didn’t though,” she points out, turning so Cure can see her exaggerated pout.

“Yes you…” he pauses, recalling the conversation with mounting horror as it replays in his mind. “Oh. Oh shit!”

“Language!” all three parents reflexively scold.

“I am so sorry dam!” he shouts, squeezing her much harder. “I didn’t even think about it! Gah! I’m always so careful about it too!” Burying his face in her mane, he pleads, “Don’t be upset! It’s not like they’re gonna say anything to anypony!”

“It’s alright, sweetie. I was only teasing. Mostly. Still, it’s something you should be more careful of in the future. Don’t you dare go out there and tease Mr. Haze, assuming he did agree.” She turns and gives the other parents a look, clearly showing how unlikely they think it is that he declined.

“I don’t think it’ll be that hard to tell,” Title mumbles. Cure and both of his parents slowly turn to stare, mouth agape, at the pink mare’s implication. “Not what I meant at all!” she insists, blushing brilliantly. “I mean it’ll be pretty obvious when you see either him skippin through town whistling a jaunty tune or her walking funny, but still smiling ear to ear.”

“Or Dawn ‘n Solar lookin traumatized ‘n overtired, I reckon,” his sire suggests.

“Unicorn bedrooms have privacy wards for their auras built into the walls just like the ones I put in your room, and assuming you all are right, I would have suggested a Sound Bubble for the noise.”

“Oh.”

“Yeah, that way foals don’t have to watch their parents get busy through their aura.” He narrows his eyes at his sire and his mom. “Assuming the parents remember to use them,” he nearly growls, holding his wings up in challenge. Both parents chuckle uncomfortably and duck their heads in submission as his dam heats up so much he could cook another pancake on her back. “I’m only teasing. Like I’ve said a dozen times, I’m just happy you’re all happy. I mean… I could do without quite so much evidence, but hey… I’ll take that over yelling. In anger, that is.”

“Sorry, son.”
“We’ll remember next time, Cure.”

“I would appreciate it. Anyhow, I’m headin out. Love you, dam!” he shouts, hugging her again. “Hope you kick tail at the market.”

“It’s not much of a competition, but I love you too, sweetie.”

He hops down and smooches the twins on their heads. They give him bonks on his chin, but pay him little mind, far more interested in the sugary deliciousness that Deed is offering. He gives a couple quick hugs to his mom and sire, then slowly stalks around to finds his final victim.

He squats down, wings spreading up and booty wiggling in the air. “Saavvvvyyyyyyy. Savvvyyyy Veeeeentuuuure!” The girl’s ears perk instantly, her head whips away from her dam, fork still stuck in her mouth. Her eyes land on the colt and widen comically as she turns, scrambling to run away while flapping madly. A peal of giggly laughter sounds out as the fork falls to the floor.

“I’mma gonna get you Savvy!” he shouts, pouncing after the filly.

Left minus a foal, but still sitting in front of a stack of pancakes, Title shrugs in false surrender. “I suppose it would be a shame if they were to go to waste.”

Brick leans away from his wife, shielding the newspaper with his body. “Caramel, sweetheart, I’m not even done reading!”

“Well hurry up! That one has a good picture of him slappin that skinwing ‘round!”

Vino sighs and takes a swig of her fruity drink, shaking her head in disappointment.

Sabre looks to the sky for guidance and blows out a frustrated sigh. “Land’s sake, Care, for the thousandth time, you can’t call ‘em that! It ain’t right!”

The mare scoffs and rolls her eyes, brushing the argument away with a wave of her hoof. “There’s none of them around, so who cares?”

“He would!” the silver mare counters, pointing to the picture of Cure at the previous day’s training. “You know he likes them bats, and him hearing his great granddam using tribal slurs like that’ll upset him!”

“Fine! Fine! I’ll try to watch what I say! Not like I’d use words like that around a colt his age anyhow.”

“You really should let that go either way,” Brick chides. “I never gave that mare the time of day, and she’s been dead for going on sixteen years now.”

“Feh,” she snorts to the side. “Doesn’t matter. Chasing after a married stallion like that. And a day pony, no less!”

Brick sighs, rubbing at his brow. “Fifty-five years later and you’re still just as spiteful as you were the day I told you.” His ear rotates back at the sound of approaching hoofsteps, prompting him to look over his left shoulder at the intrusion.

Measured Corner pokes his head into the kitchen and meets Brick’s eyes. He fully steps in and stands at attention, drawing breath to speak only to pause when a familiar voice loudly whispers, “Dude! You gotta wear the hat!” The stallion’s ears go pitifully limp and his bottom lip quivers as the most ridiculous hat Brick has ever seen floats from around the corner and deposits itself on his head. “Also, I don’t see no trumpet, so take this,” a pink kazoo floats out to hover in front of his mouth, “and get on with it.”

Corner nods in resignation and takes a deep breath, stalwartly ignoring the openly giggling mares watching on in amusement. “Presenting the Alicorn of Life, His Royal Highness, Prince Serpentus!”

“Blow!” Cure insists, levitating the kazoo to tap against Corner’s snout.

“Do I have to?” he despondently asks.

“You wouldn’t if you’d learned a real instrument, dude! It’s been three months now. What the hay have you been doing this whole time?”

The stallion looks to his right and snaps back, “Oh yeah?! What instrument did you learn?!”

A beat of silence passes.

“Fine! Don’t blow the damn kazoo!” Said instrumental disappears in a flash of Teleportation. “And I’m taking back my hat, too!” Another flash leaves the stallion uncovered as the young alicorn marches into the room, grumbling under his breath as he gives Corner a baleful side-eye.

“No hat, no instrument. You did the announcement alright, I guess, but that still barely gets you a two out of ten, bro. I’m not angry!” Cure quickly insists, holding a hoof up to stay an argument that wasn’t coming. “I just know you can do better, and I don’t want you to let you down like that.” Rant concluded, Cure does an about-face and pauses. He looks at the table, then glances over his withers back towards the hallway closet before coming to a decision.

One last flash fires off and, standing in the same spot, is an earth pony sized, yet still youthful looking, alicorn stallion. Corner takes the opportunity to flee the room as Cure approaches Brick on his left, stopping between him and Vino. It’s not quite as obvious when he’s colt-sized, but Enlarged as he is, it truly drives home how broad and muscular the colt has become; far more evident in pony than in the newspaper pictures.

With the help dismissed, the colt prances over, nuzzling into Vino and trapping her against his left side in a one-winged hug. “Heya grandma! Whatcha got there, hmm?” he asks, pointing his muzzle at her cup.

“Some fancy tea from Bitain. Gin, Elderflower, and some lemon juice with tea. ‘s not bad,” she says, sliding the glass closer. “See what you think.”

The colt doesn’t hesitate a second to lift it with his horn and take a small drink. He sets it down and tilts his head side to side in consideration. “Mmm I don’t think that’s for me, grandma. Maybe with some pineapple juice instead of lemon? I dunno… never been real big on either tea or gin, to be honest.”

Brick can’t help but think that that’s an odd statement from a nine year old foal.

“You get over here right this instant!” Caramel demands, her forehooves held wide and high. He separates from Vino and reaches out for a quick hoofbump with his great grandsire before quickly slipping around the mare’s back and getting pulled into a tight embrace by his great granddam. “Look at you, all poofed up with that fancy magic! Why… even still, you’re barely more than skin and bones!”

Brick, Sabre, and Vino share looks of utter bewilderment.

“Skin and bones my toned, muscular flank,” Sabre crows. “That colt’s damn near as wide as he is long, Care! You ought to check her eyes while she’s tryin to squeeze the daylights out of you, Cure. Something’s not working right up there!”

“You be quiet,” Caramel insists, lightly swatting her wife’s right haunch with the end of her tail. “You want anything to eat, dearie? I made brownies last night. We still have a few left if you want!”

“Caramel swirled brownies?!” he nearly shouts, eyes sparkling and tail dancing happily behind him.

The mare leans back, holding the colt in place with a hoof on each shoulder. She gives him the sternest, most offended look she can muster and asks, “Who do you think I am, young stallion?! You should know better than to even ask! Now, you sit that patoot right here,” she points to the floor, “and let your granddam get some food in ya!”

“Yes ma’am!” he chirps, snapping off a textbook perfect salute. She gives a firm nod of approval and scampers off to fetch his treats, pausing at the refrigerator for milk. Cure meanwhile snakes closer to his other great grandmother and wraps his right wing across her barrel in a hug, disengaging and sliding back to his designated spot before he’s caught out of place.

“How are your parents doing, son?” Brick asks. “Seems like your sire’s branching out a bit.”

“Doin great, grandpa. He ‘n ma Title are lookin to partner up with somepony in town and see about expanding into Baltimare. Lemon’s shop’s doin real well, too. Dam and Amy are stayin busy with the foals. They’ve been takin ‘em all to the park and pond and whatnot for the girls to play with other foals and to introduce the twins to new ponies. All in all things are going great.”

“Good. Good. How about all those fillies chasing after you? I heard about one of them passing out fliers downtown. Washout’s eldest, if I’m not mistaken.”

“Yep! Wind Shear said something about starting a job a few weeks back. She’s quite the looker, just like her dam, so I offered to give her a little makeover if she came to work for me drumming up business. She’s been makin way more bits and keepin my schedule full, so everypony’s coming out ahead if ya ask me. Just a heads-up; there’s a pegacorn stallion that had himself done up in my colors, so if you bump into him don’t call him grandson or Cure or whatever.

“The rest of the girls are staying busy too. Rising Pitch may have a scholarship lined up for her music in a couple years. Dawn Glow is making a mint selling crystals. Ferric Shine has been doing a lot of neat things with different alloys at the smithy. The pegasi are probably coming out ahead of everypony, though. I can use my talent to make flight suits that they’re selling and delivering around town.”

“With your talent?” Sabre asks. “Another one of your trees?”

“I do make them from plant matter, but I make ‘em myself, same way I did this one,” he says, tugging on his collar. “It’s silk, same as spiders make, just in sheets instead of threads. I just have to transmute it.”

The mare gives him an impressed look and casts a somewhat envious stare at his suit. Cure makes a mental note as to what to get them all for Hearth’s Warming.

“So how’re things here, grandpa?”

“Busy. Everything is moving forward on the project and, otherwise, my businesses are doing well. Speaking of goings on around here, we’ve gotten a few hundred letters from schools all over the nation. They’re in the satchel waiting for you, but it seems like every school district east of Foaledo, and some further away, is damn near begging to have you visit. I know you’re not fond of public speaking, but…”

Cure cringes and nods in understanding. “Yeah… yeah. I guess it would score me some political capital if I did, huh?”

Brick nods and points out, “May be a good way to make sure foals are in good health, too. There’s too many schools for you to go all over the place, but if you’re interested, maybe think about at least visiting some of the bigger ones.”

“That’s not a bad idea, grandpa. Maybe for suburbs we can have the schools bring all the foals to a town hall or park or something like that.” Cure’s ears perk up as a thought occurs to him. “Duchess Suncrest is all about education, apparently. I bet if we reach out to her office she’d be thrilled to take care of the logistics.” Shoulders sagging slightly, he adds, “And… I guess we should probably include Marquis Merryland’s offices in the correspondence, at least.”

Brick sighs and nods in agreement. “That may be for the best. I don’t think anypony expects you to go all over the place -”

“They better not!” Sabre nearly growls. “You’re too young for anypony to be expecting you to fly all over whenever they want you to. You do way more than anypony should expect you to already. You don’t let them take advantage of your good nature!”

Brick shrugs helplessly by waves a hoof at the silver mare to indicate his agreement. “Maybe aim for once every month or so. If her grace approves we could start sometime in late September when most of the farming foals are done helping their family.”

“Sounds like a plan, grandpa.”

“Such a dedicated young colt!” Caramel coos as she slides a plate with three enormous, caramel-slathered confections in front of the colt. “You eat up, now! I don’t want to see a single crumb left on that plate, ya hear?!”

A quick casting of Clean fires off, removing anything from his hooves as he tears a small piece off. An ecstatic moan escapes him when he takes his first bite. His right wing unconsciously reaches out to pull the preening mare against his side.

“There’s plenty there, Cure,” Caramel teases with a laugh, “You don’t have to take such small bites!”

With his mouth full of brownie, the colt points insistently up at his horn. Finally swallowing the bite, he explains, “Gotta take small bites ‘cause of the Enlarge spell, grandma. Watch,” he says, tearing another small square off. He pops it in his mouth, but doesn’t start chewing right away. With the piece held between his front teeth, he opens back up to show it had nearly doubled in size.

“Ah,” Brick mumbles, slowly nodding in understanding. “I didn’t realize the spell did that. Seems like a choking hazard.”

“Definitely,” Cure agrees. “It won’t enlarge something that won’t fit, but if the spell runs out of power or you stop maintaining it you’ll still shrink to normal. I don’t care to imagine what would happen if you enlarged somecreature, then shoved something in their mouth that barely fits, then let the spell fade. Or, I guess, it wouldn’t have to be their mouth.”

Silence descends upon the room as four great grandparents process the idea with mounting horror.

“Son,” Brick finally manages to get out. “What in the maker’s name has the princess been exposing you to?!”

Cure waves his hoof in placation, doing his best to assure them of the misunderstanding. “Oh, don’t worry grandpa. That’s not her doing. It’s just something that I realized when I saw how the spell actually worked a while back. There’s warnings about it in the guard manual, but I didn’t get a copy of that until a month after I figured it out anyhow.”

“How?”

“Did I figure it out?” Cure clarifies. At Brick’s nod he explains, “Well I kinda assumed it worked like that when I cast Enlarge the first time. See, if all the spell did was change somepony’s size then they’d immediately start suffocating. Our lungs are designed to take oxygen out of the air for our blood. It wouldn’t work right if, all the sudden, the oxygen was relatively half as big, and even if it did then your blood cells would have a similar problem. It would probably also mess up somepony’s vision and other stuff too, but that’s not quite as urgent as not getting air.

“Either way, once I realized something else was going on, I took a bite of a carrot to test it. When it suddenly changed in size it was pretty obvious what was happening. That’s why I still hafta take colt-sized bites or I’ll end up with a mouth packed full of brownie. Which isn’t the worst thing ever, obviously.”

“Obviously,” the stallion agrees. Noting his wives’ still shaken demeanors, he opts to get them back on topic. “As for the school visits, I’ll have my ponies reach out to the duchess’s office and sort out the details.” He pauses until the colt nods and hums his approval around another mouthful. “Excellent. Now, you had previously mentioned going up to Fillydelphia to raise funds for the project. We need to start planning for that, though I suspect that’s one of the reasons you came today.”

“Yep! I also wanted to get my mail, see if you maybe have a few ponies that wouldn’t mind playing chaperone next weekend for a friend of mine, aaaand,” he drawls out, turning to his left to face Sabre, “I was wondering exactly how good you are with your namesake, grandma.”

Cure pauses his eating to reach under his left wing and slowly extracts a sword seemingly out of a slit in his barrel. With the sword being removed from a compressed bag, its size was not impacted by the Enlarge spell, just like the bags themselves. It’s something he’s learned to compensate for by surrounding the bags with a small gas pocket when he alters his size.

The sword is a design that both Sabre and Brick recognize instantly. “A griffon gladius?” the mare questions. “The one that ambassador gave you, I take it?”

“Yep. I’ve sparred with a spear a little, gotten some basics with daggers and lots of experience with wingblades and hoof-to-hoof at Junior Guard training,” he says, motioning to the folded newspaper with his snout, “but haven’t learned any proper sword work yet.”

“It’s too small for you,” she immediately points out. “It’s fine for a pegasus or griffon, but you’ll need something much larger when you’re grown. Especially if you keep growing.”

“That’s fine, grandma. With my talent I don’t really need any weapons at all, but learning how to use each one will still help if I ever get caught in a bad situation.”

“Always carry a weapon, colt,” Brick chides. “That horn’a yours may eventually put a unicorn to shame, but never underestimate the value of raw steel.”

Cure bobs his head in agreement, explaining, “Absolutely, but I wasn’t talking about magic, grandpa. Watch.” The colt spreads his left wing forward and reaches across his barrel with his right hoof, plucking a two hoof long feather from the edge.

With the sword in one hoof and the feather in the other, he strikes the two together as if honing a pair of knives. Four sets of brows shoot into their manes when, instead of the feather being sliced in half, a grinding SHHHH noise like a blade being sharpened on a whetstone sounds out. The colt’s horn lights, floating a cloth napkin over, which he then drops on top of the upturned feather. The napkin falls unimpeded, splitting in half cleanly on the part that touches the feather’s edge.

All four slowly pan to the colt’s right wing still wrapped gently around his great granddam’s side. The mare herself leans more heavily into the colt’s barrel, doing her best to put a little room between herself and the downy razors.

A snorted laugh dispels the worried atmosphere as he waves his feather-holding hoof airily. “It’s not like I can’t control it! Come on, really?!” he laughs, briefly squeezing the mare more tightly to his side. He pokes the remains of the napkin with the feather again, merely sliding it across the table instead of cutting into it, then sticks the feather back into place on his wing. Some quick hornwork has the napkin laid out flat and a Mending makes it whole again.

“And that’s not a spell of some kind?” Sabre slowly asks, still staring at his wing like it’s some kind of dangerous beast.

“Nope. Not as best I can tell, at least. I suppose it depends on your definition of magic, but it’s a similar, if different, effect to what we can all do when we lift stuff with our hooves.”

“Like a griffon’s talons,” Brick pointedly suggests.

“Something like that, grandpa.”

His great grandmother peels her eyes away from his wing and asks, “Then why do you want to learn how to swordfight?”

“First, I’ll eventually need the skill for some reason, I’m sure, be it from some dumb noble insisting I duel them or for when I eventually join the Guard. Second, having the skill helps defend against it, I’m sure. Getting sliced open wouldn’t really slow me down much, but I’d prefer not do that, all things being equal.

“Lastly, having their gift truly appreciated would probably please the griffons a fair amount. I’m sure I’ll have to deal with them sooner or later and I don’t want anygriff gettin their feathers ruffled because I haven’t even bothered to learn how to use what is apparently a nearly priceless present.”

“Those are all good points,” the mare agrees. “Alright. I may be a little rusty, but what with me bein a youngster again I oughta start acting like one, I suppose.”

“Awesome! Thanks, grandma!”

“Of course, honey. It’ll be nice to finally have somepony else in this family learn the art,” she idly grumps, giving her husband an accusatory glance out of the corner of her eyes.

Brick huffs and rolls his eyes, explaining to the colt, “Was always better with a hammer, myself.”

“Really? Awesome! Any chance you’d show me that too? One of my fillyfriends has a maul on her mark, but she has no training yet.”

Sabre scoffs, turning slightly away from Brick while muttering, “Ain’t hardly anything to learn. It’s just a big hammer you swing around like a dumb brute.”

“Better than dancing around like some prancing ponce, twirling your fancy toys that don’t do a damn thing to solid plate!”

“Can we not?” Vino mildly asks, looking entirely bored with an argument Cure suspects has come about more than once.

“You stay out of this!” Sabre hotly retorts. Vino, for her part, simply rolls her eyes and otherwise doesn’t respond.

“I’d like to learn ‘em both, grandma, grandpa. Dunno if I’ll ever need ‘em, but I’ll be around a long while, so I’m guessing that eventually I will at least once.”

“Seems like a lot for a young colt to learn all at once.”

“I learn really, really fast. Like… ‘show me something once and I’ll do it perfectly every time’ kind of fast. How about I come over Saturday mornings after training, spend a little while with you two, patch us all up so you’re not tired all day, then get out of your manes?”

“You’re not leaving here without eating something!” Caramel insists, tapping the still brownie-covered plate meaningfully and giving him a ‘you will do as I command’ stare.

Husband and wife share a look and come to an agreement, turning back to the colt and nodding in acceptance. “Sweet! I can’t wait!” The colt celebrates by popping another bite of brownie into his mouth and washing it down with a swig of milk. “So… Fillydelphia. The easiest way for me to get there is to fly. I can literally see the city from here if I go high enough, so I should be able to get there in twenty minutes, roughly, but it’ll have to be the same team that went with me to Canterlot if I do that.”

Brick nods and says, “That’s who I’d propose anyhow. They already know you’re an alicorn and have been sworn to secrecy. What day were you thinking?”

“Saturday the nineteenth. I’ll need to see about running ads in the Fillydelphia Inquirer soon so word gets around, but I planned on flying straight there after training, do my thing, then zip on home afterwards. I’ll pay to put your squad up in a nice hotel Friday and Saturday, no problem. How much would it cost to hire them for a couple days?”

“Eleven hundred should cover wages, food, lodging, and their tickets.”

Cure reaches in his mane and pulls out three coins, one larger than the other two, and slides them across the table. “An extra hundred in case anything unexpected comes up,” he explains.

“That’ll work. I’m sure they’ll be happy to help, son.” With an amused smirk he adds, “Not often they get to escort a member of royalty around.”

Cure rolls his eyes and huffs good naturedly. “If everything goes well enough it won’t be the last, either. Just make sure they understand; above all else I value loyalty and discretion. They keep their muzzles clamped on what they see and hear and they can expect more jobs in the future. Tell them to expect a few extra bits to go out and have fun with on Saturday night, but warn ‘em I won’t be there to patch them up Sunday morning.”

Brick gives the colt a firm nod in understanding. “Now… you said something about providing a detail next weekend?”

“Solar Strike is leaving for Maelstrom on Saturday night. He and his friends are going to hit the town Friday. I’d like a carriage, driver, and maybe a couple ponies to make sure that if they party too hard they still get home safe. You know what’s appropriate for a stallion about to ship out better than I, grandpa, so I’ll leave the details to you, but that’s the gist of it.”

“Not a problem. I’ll put a feeler out amongst the team to see who’s looking to earn a few extra bits. A few teens hitting the bars should be an easy gig, so I don’t expect it to cost more than a hundred and fifty bits.”

“What about the carriage?”

“Don’t you worry about that, honey,” Caramel interrupts. “Your little friend can use one of ours.”

“You sure?” he asks, looking to the other grandparents for confirmation. Vino stares on placidly, barely shrugging and bobbing her head in a shallow nod, but Brick and Sabre both give their approval. “Great! I’ll check with him and find out the when and where and Send that to you.”

“You do that,” Brick agrees. “In the meantime, before you head out, how would you like to step out back and show me and your grandma your hoofwork? Celestia’s sun hasn’t heated it up too much just yet, and I’m curious to see how well those bats have been teaching you.”

Strolling through the wispy cloud-like surroundings, Celestia is left momentarily dumbfounded at the creature she finds waiting for her. Rather than the blue or, on rare occasions, brown and golden alicorn, she is instead confronted by a dark gray yak calf. One with disproportionately tiny wings and, instead of their normal curved horns, two straight horns sticking up diagonally at forty-five degree angles from his forehead in a V.

Struggling to make sense of the situation, she freezes when the calf turns to face her.

“Pony astral realm dumb! Yak astral realm much better! Has punch and pie! Me smash pony realm!” he shouts, then proceeds to make a valiant attempt to stomp on any cloud that drifts nearby.

She can only assume the yakicorn… alicyak? Whatever it is, it must have some sort of power to affect other creatures’ limbs, for she has no other explanation for how her hoof, heedless of her command, came to be pressed firmly against her brow.

“Cure Wave… What in the world are you doing?”

“Cure?! Who Cure?! Bring this stupid Cure pony and I smash him good too!” he boasts, stomping his hooves one after another as he turns in a slow circle.

“That sentence was entirely too well formed for you to be a real yak. And I would have expected ‘dumb’ instead of stupid. Too many syllables.”

“Oh,” he mumbles, coming to a stop. He thrusts an accusing hoof in her direction and, in his normal voice, snaps back, “Your name has too many syllables! Yeah!” he shouts, bobbing his head side to side. “Whatta ya think of that, huh?”

“I recall my sister making the same argument once.”

The disguised colt scoffs, nodding in agreement. “Duh. All the best alicorn’s names have four letters, after all.” The flat look she sends him prompts him to clear his throat and add, “Uhh… or multiples of four, I suppose.” He tilts his head in thought and mumbles, “Just don’t tell Love I said that. You know. In like, seventy, eighty years or whatever.”

“I’ll make note to do so.”

“Good. Err… wait… You’re going to make a note to tell her or to not tell her?”

“Get out of that disguise,” she insists rather than answering. “You look absolutely ridiculous, especially with those,” she waves a hoof at his horns and tiny wings.

“Fiiine!” he whines. In an unsettling display, the yak’s features seem to almost melt back into the colt as he emerges from the ambiguous blob-like transformation. One horn recedes, the other shifts to the center, and mass flows up and over his wings to grow them to normal proportions. The whole display leaves the princess feeling slightly ill.

Either unaware or uncaring for her discomfort, he finishes the transformation and glances between the mare and the indistinct floor, silently demanding she takes her normal position.

Sighing, she approaches and lowers herself, twisting her barrel to lay half on her left side. Grinning victoriously, the colt pronks over, rears up, and crashes more lightly than she’d expected onto her right shoulder. “So… how’s my currently-favorite princess doing today?”

She sighs and rolls her eyes. “About as well as my currently second favorite prince, I suppose.” Just as he opens his mouth to respond, she quickly adds, “And no, I am not talking about Blueblood.” The pouty, jutting bottom lip she gets in return brings her more satisfaction than she cares to admit.

“Big ‘ol meanie,” he weakly grumps. The fake pout disappears all at once when he nuzzles against the side of her neck. “So boss, teasing aside, what’s shakin?”

“Very little, thankfully. I have to ask, though… Why a yak?!”

“Eh, I thought about doing a griffon, but I knew you wouldn’t even bat an eye at that or a hippogriff. You’d asked me not to do the whole slit-eye thing, so bats were similarly out. Dragon was a maybe, but the whole scales thing seemed like a lot of work. I considered popping in with all mismatched parts, but I was kinda worried you might start shooting and ask questions later.”

“Please, please do not do that. Ever.”

“Right. I’ve not actually met a yak yet -”

“I could tell.”

“- so I figured that would be a good one to get a cheap laugh out of you without sparkin some kinda automatic fight or flight response. I also kicked around the idea of a bull or whatever, but… meh. I came this close,” he holds his hooves barely apart, “to doing minotaur, but I didn’t want to have my stuff all wavin around what with you being a taken mare and all.”

She blows out a snorted laugh, nodding in faux agreement. “Oh yes, we need only set a date for it to be official.”

“Still haven’t seen him?”

“No,” she despondently replies.

“He was probably a changeling. I bet you killed him.”

“What?!”

“Yep. You dumped so much love into him on that one night that he went home and exploded. Popped like an overfilled balloon, I reckon. Better put an APB out on him, boss. Twenty bits says somepony’ll point you to his house and you’ll find nothin left but a green puddle and flecks of chitin embedded in the walls and ceiling.”

“Cure! Wave! What is wrong with you?!”

“Do me a favor and scoop as much up as you can. Stick it in a freezer or something. I won’t be able to get as much as I would for a living specimen, but hey, I’ll take what I can get.”

An enormous white wing jabs the colt in his left side. “He was not a changeling!”

Cure flops bonelessly on his right side and smirks up at the elder alicorn. “Big bully!” he whines, then scoots closer to lay with his hooves resting on the outside of her foreleg. “How would you know if he was, hmm?” The glare she sends him could melt an iceberg. “Fine, fine! Why haven’t you simply sent him a letter or, better yet, used Sending to send a message?”

Celestia freezes stock still.

“You didn’t think of that, did you?” he nearly snickers.

“I’m supposed to be a pegasus!” she weakly defends, turning to face away from the smug brat.

“Uh huh. And we all know pegasi can’t use Sending crystals, huh? You could even enchant one so you’re not lying when you tell him you used one. Shame he probably won’t have one to reach back out. Do you have somepony you trust not only to know you met somepony, but is also capable of finding him?”

Her snout scrunches but she does reluctantly nod. “I would much prefer not to go that route, but yes.”

“I could come up with an excuse to bring the girls with me to Canterlot. Crosswind could find him for you.”

“That’s really not necessary, Cure. We met once in a bar a couple weeks ago. All this talk of hunting him down is making me feel like some kind of stallion stalker.”

“It’s ultimately up to you, boss. I bet I’d have to physically hold the filly back from flying there if she found out that her majesty has need of her special talent and is asking for her to come to Canterlot post-haste. All of my friends know how important discretion is. If you don’t get a response from Sending then I don’t see the harm in it.”

She sighs, nodding in acceptance. “I will keep the offer in mind. Or I may just see if I meet somepony else. As I said, we only spent the one evening together.”

Cure shrugs his wings and nods. “Hey… question. You know how when you get a Sending you know who sent it?”

She nods. “Yes, and given the subject, I suspect your next question is if that would reveal my true identity.”

“Yep. Or mine.”

“It could, but is unlikely. The nature of the relationship between the sender and recipient is crucial to the function of the spell. In my example, Comet knows me only as Sunny, so there is no way for him to ‘know’ that a Sending from me is from me instead. In your case you may need to take care if you are Sending a message to somepony you know in both identities, but is unaware that both are the same pony.”

Cure twists his barrel to sit more upright so he can meet her eyes during her lecture. As much as he likes to just lay there touching the mare, it somehow feels like laying down when she is in teacher mode doesn’t quite convey that he really is taking in everything she says.

“Your friends and family will no doubt always interpret your messages as coming from Cure Wave. You are Cure to them, even if you are in your Serpentus guise. With somepony not ‘in the know’ you must take care to mentally consider yourself to be the intended sender of the message or it could be transmitted as being from either identity.”

“So, in other words, get ready to cast the spell, mentally chant, ‘Prince Serpentus calling Captain Stance,’ then actually Send the message?”

The proud smile of a successful teacher graces the princess’s muzzle. “Exactly! You may want to practice with somepony to be sure you have it. I would recommend perhaps a friend’s parent, Staff Sergeant Bulwark, Captain Stance, or even Chief Physician Care.”

“I’m betting Dr. Care would receive it as Cure either way. The sergeant is a good idea, though. Or maybe even Sgt. Blackhoof.” The colt takes a moment to ponder who else would be a good test subject before deciding to move on and laying back down. “I think I had my first ‘alicorn moment’ yesterday.”

He looks up to meet her arched brow. “So with Solar heading out next week, we invited his family over for dinner…” he begins, explaining the circumstances of his power-infused declaration. The Princess of the Sun sits regally throughout his tale, listening with rapt attention. Though he skips some details pertaining to why he and Haze were in the room alone, he concludes with, “and the sarge even told me my friggin eyes were glowing. What’s up with that?”

A brilliant, joyous smile crossing her muzzle is the only warning the colt has; one he completely fails to respond to. With the alacrity of a striking snake, Celestia’s front half snaps to her right overtop his prone form. His eyes go wide, wings spread, and hooves come into the guard position, all to no avail. Forelegs and wings entomb the colt in an unyielding embrace, mercilessly smashing him against her warm, soft chest and grinding him deeper into her fluff as she writes back and forth, squealing in joy.

“Your first Invocation! And so soon after your ascension! Oh, Cure! I’m so proud of you! It took nearly a year and a half for Luna and I to declare our domains so definitively!”

Muzzle full of white fluff and lungs almost fully compressed, Cure ripostes with as much grace and eloquence as befits his station.

“Ack!”

The mare freezes, flushing in embarrassment for her outburst. Loosening her grip, she gently sets him on his back between her forelegs and gives him a moment to recuperate. When the lazy colt refuses to move, she prods him carefully with her right wingtip. “Cure? I know you are fine. It would be a poor showing for the Alicorn of Life if he were to perish via hug.”

She reaches to tickle his snout with a primary, unprepared when he lunges up and chomps down on the feather, growling like a rabid dog. The wing and the mare recoil involuntarily, flinging the colt off into the surrounding clouds with a shouted “WEEEEE!” Celestia stares, muzzle agape, at the spot he disappeared into when it clicks; the pest had lightened himself just so she would send him flying.

A chuckle escapes her lips that quickly grows into full-blown laughter. The colt comes trotting back out of the clouds giggling adorably at his own antics, gives her chest a nuzzle, then turns and flops on his left side, scooting until his back is pressed against her left foreleg.

“You. Are. A. Nuisance!”

“You mean hilarious.”

“Cure! Be serious for once in your life! This is important!”

The colt sighs heavily, rolling his eyes. Despite his flippant response, he looks up at the mare and listens attentively. “Alright, so I’m guessing this is like… the first sparks of my alicorn abilities showing up?”

“It is! I cannot truly tell you the significance; it could mean that your abilities are manifesting more quickly or, perhaps, the circumstances just aligned correctly where they did not for myself or Luna. She did not experience that until long after I had.”

“Oh yeah?”

“Mmhmm,” she energetically nods. “I still remember it like it was yesterday. Many of the village’s defenders had just bedded down for the night. With only a fraction of our forces at the ready, an enemy force began approaching from the nearby woods. Luna was, of course, the first to notice something amiss.” With a fond smile, Celestia reminisces, “She ripped a halberd off the nearest weapon rack and leapt upon the watchtower closest the enemy, holding it high and moving the moon so her silhouette cast a shadow upon their forces. Shouting at the top of her lungs, she boldly shouted, ‘Honorless knaves! Attacking under veil of darkness! Thy efforts art wasted; thy lives forfeit! No shadow obscures mine sight, for I am the Night itself!’”

The princess pauses when the colt snorts a laugh. “Waitwaitwait… she actually said that? I am the night?”

Feeling as if she had missed the joke, Celestia slowly nods. “Yes? Why?”

“AHAHAHA! That’s awesome!” he cackles. In a deep voice, as if he has a mouthful of gravel, he repeats back, “I am the night! I. AM. BATMAN!” then cracks up all the harder for it, pounding his hoof on the aetherial surface of the realm.

“It was a profound moment,” she sulks, turning away. “You do not need to make light of everything, you know.”

“I’m sorry boss,” he insists despite still chuckling. “That was a catchphrase for a comic book hero that was meant to be serious, but was so overused it became more of a joke. It isn’t something anyone would say out loud unless they were making a reference to the original.”

She huffs and turns back. “Regardless, her speech roused the defenders and gave the enemy pause. It did not, by itself, prevent the attack, but the moon’s light fouling their vision and her selfless flying charge at the enemy commander cast their forces in disarray, giving desperately needed time for the guards to don their armor and arrive at their stations.”

He still can’t help but smile in amusement, but nods nonetheless. “That’s pretty badass, boss. Was this before or after y’all found out you couldn’t actually die?”

“After, thank the maker. I do not know if my heart could have taken seeing her dive headfirst into their ranks without knowing she would emerge unharmed. Thankfully she had learned the Mistform spell before, so all attempts to skewer her hit only empty air. Or, occasionally, their own allies.”

“Woah, wait a friggin second! That’s a spell?!”

“Of course it is. A restricted one, but -”

The colt rolls to his hooves and bounces in place. “Gimme! GimmeGimmeGimmeGimmeGimme!” he shouts, dancing excitedly between and around her forelegs.

“I… suddenly feel as if I should not.”

“Aww, come on boss! That move is awesome! Don’t be bogartin the good stuff, Tia. I’ll only use it responsibly,” he insists. His eyes grow comically huge, ears fold down, and bottom lip quivers as he begs, “Pweeeeeeeese, Pwincess Cewestia? I’ve been a very good little colt, honest!”

She gives him a doubtful stare.

“Mostly. I’ve been mostly good, which ain’t easy, lemme tell ya. Besides, I really will only use it if I have a good reason to. You know… like messin with my parents inside our own home or scaring the pee outta my friends.”

“I do not think either of those is very responsible.”

Cure scoffs and rolls his eyes. “I’ll tell ya what. I’ll make ya a deal, okay?”

“A deal?”

“Mmhmm! You know how I avoid public appearances, right?”

“Yes,” she answers, lightly shrugging her wings. “I have no objections to that.”

“I dropped in on my great grandsire today and he mentioned a lot of school districts have been petitioning to have Prince Serpentus come talk to the foals. How ‘bout this: I’ll reach out to Duchess Suncrest and, I suppose, Marquis Merryweather. I’ll play all nice and whatnot and, once a month when I am available, I’ll go to a school, meet the other foals, do a little Q-and-A, and offer checkups to everypony on site just like I’m doing for your guards next month.

“As an incentive to continue being a good little princeling, if I ask to see a spell and it’s not like… ridiculously dangerous or something, you don’t give me a super hard time. Technically, I should have access to ‘em anyhow, but I totally get why you’d keep some things out of anypony’s hooves. How’s that sound? Fair?”

“Hmm. It is a tempting proposition. I’m sure a great many young foals would benefit from your efforts.”

Nodding along, Cure points out, “Studies have shown that visual or auditory impairment can have serious detrimental effects on learning. I’m not gonna be a prick and refuse to go even if you say no, but seriously… what could I really do with that spell that I couldn’t do another way anyhow?”

“Very well,” she agrees, projecting an Illusion of the spell’s diagram. “It is primarily restricted due to its danger to the caster anyhow; something that does not overly concern you. Take care to rematerialize in an area clear of everything save air. The spell attempts to clear the spot you reemerge from, but heavy, solid objects can fail to be removed.

“Also, be especially cautious of wind and lightning-based spells while immaterial. They will be far, far more effective than normal. Do not share this with anypony without my approval. I am certain you would be quite upset if somepony were to be grievously injured, even if you could likely reverse any damage they suffer.”

“Got it, boss. No problem,” he assures her, reproducing the diagram on a microscopic fragment of bone before committing it to memory. “All done.”

“Good. I look forward to hearing the results of your initiative. I’m certain the duchess will be positively delighted to hear the good news.”

“I bet. I would expect that it’ll score some serious brownie points with damn near everypony.”

“Indeed. Which brings us back to the subject at hoof. I suspect that your powers may be showing early due specifically to your overwhelming popularity. The timing may play out nicely and coincide with your attendance at my school next year.”

“It doesn’t sound all that awesome to me. That’s just that much sooner I won’t be able to hide.”

“Not necessarily. It may be difficult to maintain concentration, but I am certain we will be able to find a way for you to continue hiding your nature even should your mane and tail begin to gain an ethereal quality. You must take care when discussing aspects of your domain when in your civilian guise, and you must also maintain emotional awareness.”

“So… watch what I say and don’t get pissed off too much?”

She nods and clarifies, “Anger may cause your magic to surge, but other emotions will as well.” Her cheeks flush slightly and she smiles as she explains, “Passion and love, especially given your domain, will likely cause you to surge. It could even happen during your sleep if your dreams are particularly intense.”

“So if I have a hot and steamy dream I might just wake up glowing. And, possibly, glued to the bed.”

Her snout crinkles as she answers, “Not how I would phrase it, but, essentially, yes.”

“Well... Shit.”

“Indeed. Mine sister took great joy in teasing me for mine own dreams when I was with mate. Or when I went too long without one.”

Her slip into “ye olde talk” gets a smirk out of the colt. “Please, please tell me you came up with some kind of protection so she couldn’t just waltz into your dreams whenever she wanted.”

“Not as such, but I was always aware when she would visit, even if not until after I woke. I could feel her lingering presence and did not hesitate to make my displeasure known in the ways that only a sister could. As we both grew in power it became more difficult for her to affect my dreams, not unlike how mental attacks on an alicorn are less effective as we mature.”

“Ah. Good,” is all that he says in response. His lack of further comment gets a worried frown from the mare.

“Cure? Does something trouble you?”

“No. Not really,” he sighs. “I mean, I do have nightmares, obviously, about… you know,” he finishes, shrugging his wings weakly against the surface.

She can sympathize; as somepony who is both uniquely familiar with the unpleasantness of dying and the loss of loved ones, she knows all too keenly that such experiences leave a lasting scar. She lays her neck and chin on his side, nuzzling against his cheek. “Do they wake you often?”

“They did at first. I spent a lot of nights those first few months in my parents’ bed. Waking up snuggled against one of them was always nice. I have Cherry and Lotus to love on most nights nowadays. Don’t worry boss, I’m fine.” Cure rolls onto his back, wrapping his forelegs behind her jaw and pulling her head into a hug. “It’s whatever,” he dismissively comments. “I’ll be alright.”

“Mmm… if you say so,” she doubtfully agrees, making a note to follow up with his parents. “I would ask that you make me aware of any other surges like the one you described. I would not anticipate any more, but with modern media and your frequent positive exposure, you have, in only a few short months, grown in popularity well beyond what Luna and I could have possibly achieved in two decades.”

“You said something kind of like that when we were talking about the bats,” he notes. “I think I told you then that the implications were a tad worrying.”

“I recall. It’s more of an idle curiosity than anything else. I’ve oft wondered why, even before her banishment, I outgrew my sister both in power and in stature. I was fully grown when we ascended, but she caught up within a couple years. As we aged and expanded our influence we both began growing again, though mine was more significant.

“By the time she turned on me I was nearly two hooves taller, and beyond what bearing Magic granted, was far stronger. And thank the maker, too, as I cannot fathom what would have happened had she been able to best me or, worse, render me unconscious and trap me in an endless dream.”

With no small amount of alarm he argues, “You just said she couldn’t do stuff like that.”

“She could not. I do not know, nor do I wish to discover, what abilities the Nightmare itself may possess.”

“A valid point,” he easily agrees. “So, long story short, I keep a positive public image going, help ponies out, and, if your theory is right, that will spur on my growth magically, if not also physically… which isn’t that important for me, really.”

“Exactly. You need not do anything other than keep me informed should you wake up one day and suddenly notice a change.”

“What kind of change?”

He catches her wings shrug off to her sides. “For lack of a better explanation, you will simply feel more. You’ll feel energized, ready to take on the world. For me it is as if a burning furnace is struggling to contain an inferno in my chest, holding it in until I allow it to be unleashed.”

Cure slowly leans to his left, craning his neck to look down towards her barrel, then turns to meet her right eye. “I would very much prefer you keep a cork on that bottle given our positions, boss.”

The mare shakes in laughter. She sits more upright, separating from him as she explains, “It is not an uncomfortable feeling. Quite the opposite, in fact. Presumably whatever imagery you attach to the feeling will differ as well. Luna once told me she imagined it as an angry storm, waiting to strike out with rain and lightning to wash away any who would dare oppose us.”

“Huh. Interesting. So when you use that instead of your normal magic…”

“You’ve felt it. Every time I held you while moving the heavens.”

Cure blinks up at the princess and opens his mouth, pauses, and reconsiders. “You know, boss… when you talk about holdin me tight and the heavens movin my mind kinda goes in the wrong direction.”

“Well I understand if those were momentous occasions for you,” she flippantly argues, “but they were barely noteworthy for me.”

The colt sighs despondently and rolls over onto his barrel, resting his chin in the cloud ground. “Yeah, I’ve heard that line more than once too.”

She pats him consolingly on his back and says, “Maybe your presence will have more of an impact when you’re capable of being an active participant instead of merely being present.”

“Mercy, boss!” he cries. “A stallion’s ego can only take so much!”

“Poor thing.”

He huffs and lightly smacks her chest with his tail.

“You’ll be hearing from the Baltimare Court sometime this week.”

The sudden subject change barely throws him off for a second. “Lady Bush?”

“Correct. Her preliminary hearing date is this coming Friday. I would expect a court officer to be waiting for you at the hospital with a subpoena for you, your guards, and some of the hospital staff.”

“The idiot is trying to plead not guilty?!”

“Of course she is. She has little reason not to.”

“I guess so. It’s not like I can say she was definitely the one hitting him. I hope Mr. Flourish is able to go through with his part.”

“It may be somewhat inappropriate for me to discuss given my position and knowledge from the investigation, but in situations of domestic abuse, oftentimes the statements given on the day of the arrest carry more weight than those at the trial.”

“Because ponies tend to change their stories.”

“Exactly. You may need to slightly rearrange your afternoon schedule. The court should try to accommodate you to some degree, so I would expect the hearing to be scheduled after your shift. You’ll likely be called as close to the scheduled time as possible.”

“Oh. That’s nice of them.”

“Cure…”

“What?”

“You are a Grand Prince. You could tell them when you’ll be there and there is nothing they could do but accept it. They should be delighted that you are taking time out of your schedule to appear at all.”

“Ah. Right. Kinda forget that sometimes,” he bashfully admits.

“That is okay,” she assures him. “I cannot begin to tell you how much I prefer you show humility rather than the alternative. When appropriate, that is.”

“I gotchya boss. The fillies and my folks won’t let me turn into a pompous prick, promise.”

“Good.”

“So… anything else going on? The second generation of mice still doing alright?”

“They are. Director Storm is moving forward with live trials. She already has a half dozen volunteers lined up, so you can look forward to hopefully delivering a few extra colts come next summer.”

“Good deal. Now y’all get to deal with the hard part; implementation without turning the nation into a total sausage party.”

“Sausage par - Cure!”

“What? I’m amazed you even know what that means.”

The mare inhales and blows out a quick sigh. “The issue has been brought up several times during our council meetings. One of your original suggestions seems to be the preferred plan. The researchers are working to determine the best method to achieve between forty and fifty percent odds of a colt.

“Whatever concentration or treatment they determine will achieve those results will be publicly available to anycreature, while treatments with higher odds of a male will only be available if other treatments have failed. It will take several generations of testing before they’ll be able to determine an ideal treatment plan, so despite the speed with which you created the trees it may be several years before the public at large will have ready access.”

“Eh, whatever. As long as we’re moving forward, I suppose. Maybe they can finally get started on my friggin viral trees. Flu season is just around the corner, and I’d hate to think they’re going to spend all their resources chasing perfect instead of settling for good enough while ponies are literally dying to a virus that they may have the cure for sitting in their damned basement virtually untouched.”

She gives him a moment to take a deep breath and collect himself before responding. “I will relay your concerns at our meeting tomorrow.”

“Good,” he grunts. Belatedly, he mumbles, “Thanks, boss.”

“Of course. I suppose I am partially to blame as well. It is difficult sometimes to not focus on large, long term issues even when immediate, but less relatively impactful ones may have solutions readily available.”

The furious look he turns and gives her makes Celestia immediately regret her choice of words. “I did not mean that the flu is not a significant issue,” she immediately assures him. “Only that on a national level, eliminating it, while a truly massive achievement, will still pale in comparison to being able to start balancing out gender ratios and increasing birth rates.”

She mentally winces when his face twists in a furious snarl. He hops to his hooves and whirls about, snapping, “Tell that to everyone that’s watched their wife die, Celestia! It feels pretty god damned important to me!”

“I know,” she calmly replies. “I understand.”

“How could -” he starts, stopping when it dawns on him who he is yelling at.

“I understand,” she more forcefully repeats. The colt’s anger falters and he sags to the ground breathing heavily. Celestia scoots forward, pulling his right side against her chest. She leans down to be closer as she softly says, “I have been where you are dozens of times. I do understand, Cure. I am sorry I failed to consider how it would appear to you when we prioritized something that is less urgent. I will bring it to everypony’s attention as soon as I can.”

“Alright,” he weakly concedes, nodding against her right shoulder.

She takes a moment to simply hold him, nuzzling against his left cheek and petting down his side. “I think maybe we should call it a night. I do not have any other issues that cannot wait.”

“Okay,” he absently replies. “Goodnight, Celestia. Sorry I yelled at you.”

“Think nothing of it, Cure. Go. Be with your family. Get some rest. I will see you next week, or sooner if you would like to talk.”

“Alright.”

“Goodnight, Cure Wave.”

Author's Note

No A/N at the moment. Gotta run out the door. Maybe when I get back I'll have an opportunity.

*shrug*

See ya later folks.

As always, thanks to all of you that rate & leave comments.

Enjoy!

Chapter 95: Advertising

Tuesday, August 18th, 909 AB (the next day)
Breakfast

“Another Alicorn About?” Lemon reads aloud from the paper, the smirk audible in her voice. “Preposterous! Pegasus Pays Plenty to Present as Popular Prince!”

“You’re joking, right?” he pleads, pausing to push his empty bowl away. “Stupid, forced alliteration aside, I can’t believe there’s already an article about the dude.”

“Anything Serpentus is big news, colt,” Amethyst remarks. “Betchya somepony saw him flyin ‘round and thought it was you right away.”

Title leans closer, snuggling against Lemon’s left to continue reading, “Crowned Piece, owner of Crowned Entertainment Incorporated, says he finds Baltimare’s favorite son so fascinating that he had to know what it was like to metaphorically fly in the young prince’s wake. ‘I simply had to see if I could catch a glimpse of what his highness experiences every day when he goes outside,’ the stallion said.

‘It’s been a real eye-opening experience! Ponies rush up to say hi when they see me, even if they realize I’m not the real deal. I’ve made a lot of new friends and have to say that I don’t regret it at all!’” She sits back upright and takes a draw from her coffee, commenting, “It sounds like he couldn’t be happier, Cure. You should be proud to have such a vocal stallion out there hyping your business.”

“Does he, though?” Amethyst asks. “You didn’t say he mentioned Cure at all.”

“It’s further down,” Lemon answers. “Mr. Piece explained that he has only had one treatment thus far, but is eager to continue his transformation next week. As for the pony responsible? He had this to say: ‘Go see Cure Wave over in Golden Hills. A young earth pony, if you believe it! Has his own business above a candy shop. It wasn’t cheap, but look at me!’ It also mentions the blurb about you from that article last year.”

“Neat. That was nice of him,” the colt comments, “and the timing rocks. I’m taking a copy of that article with us to Filly just in case. Maybe the Inquirer can put something like ‘As Featured in the Baltimare Sun!’ in the ad. I don’t think they’ll care too much about the Golden Hills Gazette’s piece, but another big paper’s? That right there is worth quotin.”

“Have ya considered ya might make enough without goin ta Filly at all, son? Seems like yer gonna see some business from that.”

Cure wobbles a hoof saying, “Eh, maybe? I dunno, pa. I’d rather make it a sure thing, especially if we,” he tilts his head to Amethyst, “are also gonna be lookin at buyin some properties. Also, I want to be able to head up to Manehattan at some point to see that advisor that Marchioness Yorkshire sent me info on. I don’t want to show up with only a few bits to my name. Can’t have a prince of the realm bein poor, after all.”

“What’s the goal here, champ?” Cure gives his sire a questioning look, silently asking for clarification. “Yer workin yer tail off, and I know it ain’t fer nothin. We ain’t exactly strugglin these days. What are ya chasin after?”

“Same as always, pa. Power, freedom, so forth and so on. I have some ideas, but I don’t know if they’re good ones.” Deed returns the favor, cocking a brow prompting his son to give some examples. “Well, like the whole studding thing, for example. If I go that route I think it would be neat to have a really nice private school focused on the sciences. Something mostly for my foals with slots for other exceptional foals as well.”

“That’s a wonderful idea, sweetie!” his dam exclaims. “You could have one just like her majesty’s!”

“It sounds neat,” Title agrees, “but it’s a little odd for a sire to be very involved in foals they had via contract, you know.”

“It is,” he agrees, “but that doesn’t mean I can’t at least, in a way, provide for them a little. I may not be able to require that ponies let me know how my foals are doing, but you do remember what I said about one of the reasons Celestia has a school several months ago, right?”

“Ahh, I get it,” she says, realization dawning. “A way to keep an eye on the foals. Makes sense.”

He uses his spoon like a pointer, waving at the pink mare and giving her a firm nod. “Exactly. I’ll be able to keep an eye on their development and make sure they’re being taken care of. I figure I’ll eventually need some purely philanthropic pursuits, too. The school will let me ‘give back’ to other foals and make sure mine have every advantage I can afford them. Within reason.”

“You do realize you won’t have any actual parental rights, right?” Amethyst points out. “The girls’ sire can’t just show up and demand ta see ‘em without us sayin it’s alright.”

“Of course. There’s many other issues too, I’m sure. It’s just an example of why I might need cartloads of cash at some point. It may qualify for some crown money, granted, but I’m betting if I wanted to make it a more private institution I would need to cover the majority of the bill.”

“I think you’re forgettin somethin, son.” Cure gives his sire a questioning look as he explains, “All’a that’s gonna be ‘Prince Serpentus,’ not you.”

“There’s no way in the world my identity will stay hidden that long, pa.”

“No, son, what I mean is you won’t need ta use yer own bits fer that. Prince Serpentus will pay for all’a his stuff. Yer makin all’a this under one identity when ya could be doin it under both.”

Cure’s brows furrow in thought as he considers the idea. Slowly shaking his head, he argues, “But the princess said I… wait…”

“She said ya gotta keep ‘em separated, in a way. Ya can’t be usin tha crown ta make yerself rich. Just that ya gotta make sure ta keep ‘em separate-like.”

Title lights up at the idea, nodding along. “Ohhhh! Good thinkin, babe!” She turns to Cure and, seeing his confusion, explains, “The bits from studding is a good example. You’ll earn those as Prince Serpentus. They can all go into your ‘Prince’ account. I’m sure there’s other things you can make that would draw too much attention as yourself. Use your prince identity, set the money aside for whatever charities you want to set up, and keep your ‘Cure Wave’ money separate.”

“But then I’ll have to pay taxes on it,” he whines.

“So? It’s money you wouldn’t be able to earn otherwise. At least not until it’s revealed that you’re you, and at that point you won’t need to keep everything separate. And besides, I’m sure the princess can extend your tax-free status to Serpentus as long as you’re only using the money for charities and stuff the crown would normally cover anyhow.”

“Okay, I guess, but what kinda stuff do you have in mind? I obviously don’t want to start doing cosmetic crap at the hospital.”

“No, no. I mean stuff like… Well, take your origin cell plants, okay?”

“Uhh… okay?”

“That goop they make. How long does it stay good?”

“I once read that stem cells can be stored for years if frozen. At room temperature? Dunno. I told ‘em a day back when I gave them the plants but I bet the solution would work for at least a few days without much degradation.”

“Could you change that? Make them last longer? Maybe sell little packets of it that ponies could keep at home for small cuts and stuff?”

The colt’s eyes go wide in realization. He sets his spoon down, then slowly presses his hoof against his brow. “I am such an idiot!” He throws his hooves into the air and leans back, shouting, “Neosporin! A freakin multimillion dollar product and I can blow it outta the water! Gah! Could’a been makin that crap for months!”

“I… don’t know what Neosporin is, but I can guess. Is that something you can make? Small packs that ponies could keep in their house?”

“Yes! Easily. You ever heard how fungal spores can stay good for hundreds of years?”

“Umm… no?” she admits, glancing at the rest of the parents. She gets a few shrugs, relieved when she’s not the only one that is unaware. “I’ll take your word for it, though.”

“They can. Some of them, at least. I can just encase the stem cells in a shell that will dissolve on contact with water. I can just make a ceramic syringe, minus the needle, with a screw-on cap… that’s brilliant, ma!”

The mare scoffs and rolls her eyes. “Duh. Somepony has to be the brains around here.” She bravely ignores the many doubtful looks from the rest of the parents.

“I’ll have to talk to the boss lady this Sunday. I don’t think it’s urgent enough to bother her tonight, but it may be a really good way for me to earn some bits under my prince identity. I’ll hafta think about other products that are healing-adjacent, but insignificant enough ponies won’t go to the clinic to get it looked at.”

“Acne, scar cream, treatments for graying or thinning hair, bruises, and sore muscles just to name a few,” Lemon lists off. “Granted some of those are straying into cosmetic territory, but they’re still things you can sell to ponies that won’t travel all the way to Baltimare for.”

“Hmm. True. I’ll ponder on it at work today, ma. We should probably get going, though. With that article we may end up being a little busier than normal today.”

Much to everypony’s relief, there was no stampede of ponies rushing to the shop when they arrived. A few more than normal trickled in to make appointments throughout the day, but it didn’t overwhelm his mom or her workers. Cure figures there will probably be a glut of ponies wanting appointments over the next few days, but with only his name and city listed it will take most ponies a moment to find him.

The colt’s eagerness to leave makes the day drag more than normal. With only one customer left, Cure figures his mom should be by soon so they can head out. He takes a moment to check on the house through his plant, finding his dam, Amethyst, and the rest of the foals just getting home from the park.

The connection over such a distance is slow; even though Transmuting a line of copper underground helped immensely, there’s no way he could puppet a body over such distances and be convincing. Sadly, his cylinder won’t be ready for at least another week, so no immediate fix is available.

Early experiments with a pair of copper rings have been promising, but the waste coefficient on the cheaper metal makes his plan cost prohibitive. There’s also the fact that the copper he was testing on was produced with Transmutation, a process that makes any imbued enchantments far less potent.

The little he read on the subject with Celestia indicates that the lingering trace of magic in the Transmuted material is responsible. That’s fine as far as he’s concerned; the paired rings he created were only used as a proof of concept. Once the pure, virgin gold cylinder arrives he’ll be able to make his Version I, and then… then he’ll have some flexibility.

The clops of two sets of hooves ascending the stairs has him focusing back on his parlor. Two pegasi round the top of the stairs, both immediately locking on to the colt waiting for them. The first is a young, light yellow mare and, right on her tail is a slightly older, chestnut colored stallion.

“Howdy!” Cure energetically chirps in greeting. He offers a hoof for a bump and continues, “Welcome to BodyWorks Enterprises! My name’s Cure Wave and I’ll be helping you bring out the more perfect you today! My schedule only showed one more for my afternoon, but if you’re both here to see me that’s fine too! The more the merrier, I always say!”

The mare closes the distance and taps his hoof, but the stallion just stares on unimpressed, his body language all but screaming that he wants to leave. “Yeah, with the prices you got listed I bet you would say that,” he quietly huffs.

It’s not uncommon for customers to gripe about his prices. They’re in line with or higher than most of the legitimate cosmetic alteration businesses in the Baltimare area, but he’s absolutely confident he delivers a better end result than anypony else could.

“Cloud Candy,” the mare introduces, grimacing slightly where her stallion can’t see as she gives his name. “This is my coltfriend, Bevel Joint.”

“Pleasure ta meetchya! I’m a firm believer in getting what you pay for, Mister Joint. I’ve had a few other ponies say something along those lines, but not a single one of them was complaining when they saw the results of my work. So,” he pauses, looking back and forth between them, “were you both here to be seen, or…?” he trails off, leaving the question hanging.

The pair answer at the same time, her with a hoof on her chest and him pointing his right wing.
“Just me.”
“Just her.”

“Great!” he exclaims, forcing enthusiasm with a clap of his hooves. “Come on around the divider here and we’ll talk about what I can do for ya!” Fake, exaggerated smile plastered on, Cure turns and leads them into his small office.

It’s still much the same as it was when he first started seeing customers; a divider, a small desk, a file cabinet he doesn’t even use anymore, a stand with a few Cleaning, Copy, Illusion, and Light crystals, a couple cushions for the occasional pony accompanying a customer, and a small couch off to the side in case somepony will be there a while. The only significant addition he’s made was just done in the last week; a soft, moss-like surface now covers the entirety of the floor, easily mistaken for a plush carpet.

“So the appointment notes said you were interested in some muzzle work and a few touch-ups to your coat and skin,” he mentions as the pair get settled. “What exactly were we hoping to address today?”

“You gotta fix her back up,” her stallion gruffly insists. “It’s like I’m rubbing my belly on a cheese grater every time -”

“Joint!” she snaps, glaring at the stallion.

“- we cuddle. What?!” he defensively barks.

She gives Cure an apologetic look and explains, “I crashed into a hawthorn patch when I was a filly.” More softly she adds, “They cut me up really bad, especially on my back. Left a lot of scars.”

“Figured you could fix her muzzle while you were at it,” her coltfriend interjects. “Slim it down some so she looks like a mare, maybe.”

Cure has to bite his tongue to keep from lashing out. The look of genuine, bone deep hurt on the mare’s face causes his blood to boil. It takes a great deal of effort to keep his wings pinned, ears perked instead of pinned back, and his tail from thrashing while he quickly considers his options.

Unfortunately, he knows there is little he can do to actually help the mare. His first instinct is to bash the asshole’s brains in, but Celestia would probably be a bit miffed to find out Cure murdered a pony for being a jerk, even if he’s fairly certain at least one creature in history pushed her buttons enough to get turned into a lump of char.

Ed watched enough episodes of Cops to know that taking unilateral action probably wouldn’t work. Not only would he have to explain himself, Cloud could potentially leap to her coltfriend’s defense.

The thought of provoking him verbally is tempting, but then he could just take his frustration out on her later, especially if she doesn’t stick up for him. Also, there is little that a foal of Cure’s age could say that would end up with an adult stallion taking a swing at him, and his business doesn’t need complaints being lodged against him, especially valid ones. Maybe if the dude’s daughter was around for him to beat up, but sans combative filly, the colt is bereft of good options.

After a moment of stewing he realizes he is likely overreacting. For all he knows the couple had an argument earlier in the day and the stallion’s in an unusually shitty mood.

With his limited options, he figures about the only thing he can do that’s practical is to ensure that by the time the couple leaves, the mare has never been happier with her appearance.

Facing the mare directly so she knows he’s specifically addressing her, Cure assures her, “I’m sure by the time we’re done today you’ll look exactly how you’d like, miss.” He begins reaching for an Illusion crystal and continues, “Now, how about we take a look at some options, then we’ll talk pricing, getchya all taken care of, and let you both enjoy the rest of this beautiful afternoon.”

After a quick lunch, and a few minutes scouting to ensure the coast is clear, the entire family - minus Deed and Lemon - gathers out back to witness the pair’s departure. Cure had considered attempting to make a sleek, aerodynamic bobsled-like vehicle for his mother, but had given in to his parents’ suggestion and instead went with a more traditional, if shrunken-down, cab. It only has two wheels and a small raised bench, though he added a transparent wood canopy so his mom can see out without a bunch of wind in her face.

It doesn’t escape to the colt that, unlike a real transportation cab, his mini-carriage lacks the enchantments designed to keep a pony inside, mitigate the wind, and to activate Slow Fall in the case of a sudden, significant decrease in altitude.

Though he can’t imagine what could possibly cause a catastrophic failure significant enough to endanger the mare, Cure insisted that she keep a Slow Fall and Teleport crystal on her. With Title comfortably seated on her bench and the colt securely attached to the carriage, he waves an oversized wing in farewell to his dam, Amethyst, and his siblings. Looking back over his withers, he calls back to his mom, “You all set back there, ma?”

“Good to go, babe.”

“Nice and comfy?”

“Yep. Let’s hit it.”

“Alright, here we go!” Wide wings raised and leg muscles taut, Cure leans forward and begins flapping madly while visibly straining to pull the cab forward. Sweat beads down his brow and drips from his barrel, darkening the fur below his pits. He heaves with all his might, his hooves digging furrows in the soft earth, and he effortfully grunts, straining to budge the mare and cab, all to no avail. After several seconds of pulling and tugging the cab hasn’t even moved a single millimeter, all while his family watches on in stunned silence.

“Real funny, you little brat! Now stop farting around and go or I’m getting out of this damn thing!” she shouts, fed up with his antics.

The colt nearly falls over cackling, soon joined by the other spectators when realization dawns on them.

“Sorry ma, I accidentally flipped the mental switch to ‘heavy’ instead of ‘light,’” he insists between laughs. He spends another few moments chuckling and cleans himself and the lawn up with his magic before getting serious. “Okay, here we go for real. Later, everypony!” he shouts, waving his wing goodbye.

Lightening the mare and the carriage, Cure begins at a trot, quickly speeding to a canter. His large wings pump for real, lifting him easily, but not the carriage. It becomes quickly apparent that even with her weight reduced, the colt, mare, and carriage together are too much to gracefully lift and remain horizontal. He can get them off the ground, but with all of the weight in the back she’ll be dangling below, not soaring behind him. Cure slows back to a trot and calls back, “I need to reconfigure the carriage some, ma.”

“Need me to get out?”

“No. The problem is that all of the lift is in front and the majority of the weight is in the back,” he explains, pointing at his chest with his hoof, then the carriage as a whole. “I’m not making a weight joke, I just need to add some wings on the cab so it generates lift too. The enchantments that pegasi carriages have must do something to shift the lift of their wings back somewhere closer to the center of the mass.

“Hold on while I adjust it some.” He repeats the update back to the family through the Message spell as he tows her back to their own yard. Once in his own domain, he calls up a vine to connect to the underside of the cab. Mass flows up, thickening the side walls as Title watches in mild interest. Two large glider wings sprout from the cab’s frame and extend out, significantly increasing the surface area and providing additional lift.

“We’re going to need to go invisible,” he tells everypony. “The profile is going to be too unique; we’ll have pegasi and griffs from the entire city flying by to get a look at the winged chariot, not to mention at least a few guards, I’m sure.”

“Probably right, colt,” Amethyst agrees.

“Send us a message when you get into the air,” his dam insists.

“Will do. Here we go again. Third’s a charm and all that,” he finishes in a grumble. Cloaking the entirety of himself and his mom in Invisibility, Cure takes off in a quick canter, grabbing as much air around himself, the cab, and its wings as he can and pushing the lightening aura to its maximum. With nearly double the surface area and more evenly distributed lift capacity, the pair lift off the ground and quickly gain altitude.

“How ya doin, ma?” he calls over his withers.

“Not the best,” she uneasily responds.

He glances back automatically, then mentally facehooves. “Do I need to land? Would you rather be asleep? I can give you something if you’re feeling nauseous.”

“No… no, I’ll be alright. Just give me a few.”

“I would suggest closing your eyes, but…”

“First thing I tried,” she admits. “Can’t say it helped much.”

“No, I bet not with invisible eyelids. Closing your eyes probably wouldn’t help much anyhow. Focus on the horizon. That’s supposed to work better.”

“I’m doing okay,” she weakly insists.

“Makes ya wonder how the spell lets the light in your eyes and also lets it pass through them, huh?”

“It kind of does,” she agrees. “Like, academically it’s interesting, at least. As long as it works,” she trails off. Cure can practically hear the shrug in her voice.

“Yeah. I’m going to start looping north to head east. Want a tour of Baltimare or should I make straight for Parkdale and the coast?”

“I wouldn’t mind seeing the city. I’m assuming takeoff is the worst part, right?”

“In this case, yes. Normally landing would be, but Slow Fall makes it a cinch compared to when you’re in aircraft that don’t have bullshit pony magic.”

“Oh yeah?”

“Definitely. Even with all the advanced tech, I can recall a few landings that were asshole-puckering terrifying. Especially in bad crosswinds. Especially on short runways. Some of those islands he went to on vacations were pretty small, and out on the ocean winds can be strong, so yeah, do the math there. The first few times really sucked.”

Cure levels off only about a kilometer up and begins pitching to their right, slowly bringing the pair of them around towards the east and looping north around and above the cloud district.

<< We’re all good, dam. Probably move out of Sending range in a few minutes. Love you, see you in a bit! >>

<< Love you too, sweetie. Be careful, and stop teasing your mother so much. >>

<>

“I sent dam a message. I’ll take us around the southern half of the city, then loop up north, ma. Let me know if you want me to get closer to anything.”

“Alright, babe. Just stay at this height. I can see everything fine from here.”

Cure slowly pitches further south, crossing over the railroad tracks and heads towards the southern half of Baltimare, slowing his pace so his mom can really get a good look at everything. With his enhanced hearing he can hear the mare’s quiet exclamations of joy and wonder through the cab’s exterior as she looks down at the residential areas to the west of the city. He sedately loops to the east, passing south of City Hall and the hospital, over the downtown business district, then veers further south to avoid flying too close to the docks.

“You have got to bring the girls up here sometime, honey. This is amazing!”

“It really is,” he easily agrees, turning north to fly up the coast.

As he’s lazily flying along, he catches movement in a park below. The familiar setup of a hoofball field is easy to see at their low altitude. Dozens of foals of all ages run and play, having a fun time enjoying their summer as their parents laze about, idly watching while chatting the day away. It appears unorganized; likely just a bunch of foals out having fun, but still makes him feel a slight twinge of envy.

Ponies, griffons, zebras, and families of all kinds of creatures are out, enjoying the beautiful day under Celestia’s sun. He knows he could too. All he has to do is stop. Stop pursuing wealth and power, stop working as much as he does. He could just be a foal, and nothing more. But he can’t. He can’t stop now, and he knows it.

He’s committed to the hospital, to being a prince, to stepping in to help those that nopony else can. He’ll never be able to quit, either. Not without consequences, at least. The disappointment of an entire nation is simply too much to bear, never mind the loss of who-knows-how-many unborn foals he could have saved.

Grim thoughts plaguing his mind, he peels his eyes away from the foals and focuses on his destination, facing north to a new city; a city he may have briefly visited had he been less prepared, less paranoid, back in May. The spontaneity of their trip means that nopony will be ready, waiting for him, but that does little to ease the anxious frustration at visiting somewhere that would have potentially been the gateway to a life of enslavement had he not been ready. Had he not been waiting.

There’s little as far as interesting scenery for the pair once they pass by the fancy, oceanfront properties lining the coast in Parkdale. There’s hills, tons of trees, a few streams here and there, but as pretty as it all looks Cure just can’t muster the energy to feign interest. His mom thoroughly enjoys the view, but despite objectively acknowledging that it is pretty, he couldn’t care less.

They spot an occasional home close to the coast, though several look abandoned and overgrown. It’s somewhat of a surprise that they even exist given what communal creatures ponies are. Given the rocky shoreline he can’t fathom what the appeal would be. He briefly wonders if the occupants are long gone, having passed alone in their home with nopony the wiser before dismissing the thought. Surely patrolling guard units would have at least stopped to check on the place every so often. Probably.

Once they get closer to Fillydelphia the work being done to connect the two cities is visible from the coast. Cure isn’t sure why it’s taking so long; he recalls teams from the westward rail expansion in America being able to complete literal miles of railroad tracks every day. Manpower, or creaturepower, he supposes, is probably the limiting factor here. The thousands upon thousands of workers needed to achieve that pace simply isn’t available. Instead, only a few dozen ponies, bulls, minotaurs, and a hooffull of griffons can be seen as they quickly pass by.

He idly wonders how quickly he, himself, could do the work. He has no idea exactly what all goes into laying tracks. Presumably a significant amount of preparatory work needs done on the surface itself, then the laying of the ties, then the arrangement of the tracks themselves. With his talent making absolutely precise measurements simple, he can’t fathom any reason why he couldn’t complete at least a mile or two every day and have the cities connected within a month. Perhaps two so that the real engineers can follow behind and fix all of his mistakes.

It would take a rather extremely unsubtle approach, but he figures that if he had the tracks themselves available, he could gather enough plant material to fashion a railcar and slowly drive it all the way down from Fillydelphia, which is a large steel producer, all by his lonesome. Fix the ground with Shape Earth and Shape Stone, remove any encroaching vegetation, consume trees in the way, fashion them into the necessary ties, and fuse tracks and ties together through Transmutation.

Unfortunately, that sounds boring, so he’ll not be suggesting that to Celestia, double so due to how much it would reveal of his true abilities. Likely ones she, herself, has not even considered.

Despite the area between the cities being heavily forested, there is a highway running between them completely separate from the in-progress rail line. Much like the smaller ground paths between Golden Hills and Baltimare proper, it amounts to little more than a cleared dirt road, perhaps wide enough for two, or in some places, three carriages to pass by each other. He even spots a few buildings on the road that serve as inns, carriage service stations, and restaurants for anypony making the trek. Likely homes for the ponies that live there, too, he figures.

Memories of greasy, nasty, diners that human truckers frequent flash through the colt’s mind. The small Waffle House-esque places always had the most ridiculously delicious, and equally unhealthy, food for half as much as franchise restaurants. The possibility of that being the case crosses his mind, but if he ever gets the opportunity to find out it’ll have to be when he’s not on a tight timeframe.

The two do a brief reconnaissance loop around the city with Cure pointing out where they need to go to his mom. With such a large population of unicorns it’s not difficult to spot several magical supply shops, some of which are directly between his two objectives.

The city itself is on the coast, unlike its Earth-equivalent. Bisected by the Delhiware River that starts in the mountains and eventually feeds into the ocean, it has two visually distinct parts; the downtown district on the peninsula sandwiched between the river and the ocean, and the residential areas stretching from the northwest across the river, then to the west of the city proper.

A smaller, upscale neighborhood is further north and uphill from the majority of the city. Large brick mansions with elaborate gardens and huge lawns clearly demarcate the divide from upper middle class to the through-and-through rich residents.

On the west side of the Delhiware the existing rail lines serve as a border between the mountainous areas in the northwest and the more equine and ungulate-populated areas to the southwest and north. They originate from Detrot and pass by Foaledo several hundred kilometers to the west, then pass through the West Chaser Fillydelphia suburb, cross the river, enter the city proper, then curve northwest to the west of the upscale neighborhood before eventually heading up to Manehattan.

A feature of the city that only a few other metros have is public transportation. With a largely unicorn populace, many of the residents commute via intercity trams each day. It’s a major source of employment for the earth pony residents; a temperature-controlled trolley with seating for dozens of unicorns can be pulled easily on unpowered tracks by teams of two to six earth ponies, depending on the grade of the route.

The majority of the dragon residents live in the northwest where the architecture differs enormously from the typical pony cottages, standardized wooden homes, or concrete and stone office buildings into something straight out of the Flintstones. Almost every part of Dragon Town’s existence leaves the colt baffled. He vaguely recalls Twilight at one point complaining about a lack of information about dragons being available, but at least a thousand of them live right here on the east coast of Equestria under the aegis of the Alicorn of the Sun.

It’s one of the very few places on the planet where the Dragon Lord has no authority over members of his own species. A detection array serves to notify the garrisoned guards if and when the Bloodstone Scepter is activated, giving them a few minutes time to activate the shielding array located around Dragon Town and a portion of downtown to negate its effect.

That should never happen without prior notice, though; Dragon Lord Torch signed a treaty with Equestria over a thousand years ago with a provision requiring him to notify the nation’s leader at least a day in advance of the scepter’s planned use. With proper notice given, the guard contingent responsible for powering the shield has more than adequate time to ensure their charges are protected.

Another glaring issue Cure can’t help but note is that there’s no lava anywhere nearby. Dragons are not cold blooded, and their scales provide every bit as much protection from cold as they do from heat, so they don’t need lava baths to get by. Still, he is aware that they do enjoy the activity immensely, even if they can’t stay fully submerged for long. The problem isn’t the heat; dragons’ innate magic means they can shrug off temperatures well in excess of a couple thousand degrees, but they still have to breathe.

Like every other warm blooded, active, non-aquatic creature he’s ever heard of, they will have to come up for air every so often. Some of the larger ones can supposedly stay under for an hour or more, but that’s more of a function of size, power, and surface area allowing them to minimize energy use for longer periods of inactivity. A larger dragon will have larger energy reserves and smaller surface area, relatively speaking.

The streets and buildings are wider and larger in Dragon Town, but it would be impossible for the older, larger citizens to actually enter any businesses. The most massive residents of the city typically live far on the outskirts, sleeping away much of their days and, on the rare occasion they need something from the city, dispatch a younger relative to go fetch it.

With the city mapped out and scouted, it only takes a moment for Cure to find an isolated spot in Macaroni Park to the south. He gratuitously abuses Slow Fall, disconnecting himself completely from the carriage, flying down below it, then catches it with his horn, gently setting it on the ground without the slightest bump.

As soon as it touches down his horn retracts and he double-checks to ensure nopony caught sight of him. Somewhat wary of being in a new city without his defenses up, he withdraws his staff and rests it on his back, surreptitiously connecting to it just behind his withers.

The hatch pops open and his mom hops out. She stretches like an oversized cat, first with her rump waving in the air and forelegs way out in front, then shifts her hindquarters almost down to the ground as she arches her barrel in an upward facing dog pose, grunting and moaning all the while.

Cure watches on in amusement as the mare tests every joint on her body. “You good now?”

“Mhmm, you bet. What are we doing with the carriage?”

“I’ll hide the wings, remove the canopy and pull it like a normal cab,” he says, hooking himself back into the harness. He motions back to the cab with a tilt of his head and asks, “Want to walk or ride?”

“I’ll walk for a bit,” she answers as the two get underway heading north towards the city’s downtown area.

Cure trots along beside her, pondering on their trip thus far. “You know… this whole thing seems like a pain in the ass. Why didn’t we just rent a real cab to fly us up here? We could have had ‘em take us right where we needed and skipped all the covert action crap.”

“I dunno, babe. We talked about it last night before bed, but your sire said to let you do it your way. Said if it didn’t work we could do that or take the ferry. I said just let you go by yourself, but your dam wouldn’t hear of it.”

He draws in a deep breath and blows out a sigh. “Yeah, I don’t think she’d be down for that. Y’all do realize I’m like… one of the most dangerous creatures on the planet, right?”

“Anypony can be caught off guard, honey. Not that that’s a big worry here, but still.”

“Right. I guess.”

“You do know where we’re headed, right? I was just kinda looking around and wasn’t paying attention,” she sheepishly admits.

“Sure do, momma. That,” he points away up the avenue they’re on to a tall, domed structure, “is City Hall. The Writing House Market offices are a couple blocks southwest of there, so we have some ground to cover. The Inquirer is, coincidentally, on Market Street about six blocks straight east of there. There’s several stores we could stop at between them, so that won’t be a problem.”

Course set, the two move at a brisk canter by the colt’s standards due to his shorter legs. The oddity of a young colt pulling a carriage draws a few looks from ponies they pass on the street, but with his pace matching the other carriages moving about the city nopony raises any fuss. The main roads in the city are cobblestone, but a larger unicorn population means that they’re magically smooth and well maintained enough that the carriage wheels don’t even make the distinct “clak-clak” noise riding over them.

Fillydelphia, like Baltimare, is much more modern looking than Canterlot. Few buildings are more than five stories tall, but the thick, cement facades, tall, heavy columns, and elaborate battlements of the rooftops give the city a somewhat intimidating feel that he is unaccustomed to.

It’s the first time in the young alicorn’s life that he feels like he’s in a real city; a very human city, no less. Cloudsdale is far larger and much more populated, but he never got to wander around the floating metropolis. Canterlot, for all its majestic beauty, feels more like the set of some kind of fantasy movie with its dated architecture, stone construction, immaculate cleanliness, and tightly controlled aesthetics. Baltimare is close, but the scale of it ruins the immersion; a population in the mid sixty thousand range just doesn’t quite click as a “city” in his mind, and he can fly the entire length from north to south in only a couple minutes.

There’s no exhaust smell from vehicles, nor is there as much noise due to the lack of car horns or engines, but the familiar typical trash and all-around funk that most large cities have is present. Even though they’re not in Dragon Town there’s several of its citizens walking about. It strikes the colt as somewhat bizarre seeing dragons walking down the street like they are, but nopony is paying them any mind, so he does his best to not gawk like everypony does when he walks around as Serpentus.

The wider streets are a boon for the pair, allowing the colt to really take in the sights of the bustling downtown area. There’s not an overabundance of hoof traffic in the mid afternoon, but in a city nearly three times as populated as Baltimare there’s never a time when nopony is out. Business ponies walk with purpose, cabbies are constantly zipping by, and street vendors of every kind call out soliciting creatures to buy their wares.

It doesn’t escape the colt’s notice when his mom’s snout zeroes in on restaurants with signs advertising various flavors of cheesecake. “We can get ya a snack before we go, ma.”

“Aww!” she pouts. She stamps a hoof on the stone street and whines, “But I want one now!”

“Maybe if you behave yourself. I wouldn’t mind trying one of those, too,” he says, motioning with his snout to a very busy pretzel vendor. A dozen ponies stand in a line stretching south, parallel to the street, waiting to buy one of the warm, soft treats. A grunt of agreement is her only reply as the pair pick up the pace heading north.

Intersections in busy cities are normally very chaotic for anypony towing a carriage. Traffic lights don’t exist, and road signage is fairly minimal. Coming from a side street into a main thoroughfare can be a long waiting game during peak hours unless somepony is willing to shove their way in and cut somepony else off.

The pair witness a few arguments between cabbies as they make their way north approaching the heart of the city. As they get closer to Walnut Street Cure gradually works his way towards the middle of the street to turn west and is relieved, and slightly confused, when he finds legitimate police ponies directing traffic. Even more bizarre, the uniforms they’re wearing could have been copied straight out of a movie set in the 1900s on Earth.

Four unicorns - and every single one seems to be a unicorn - sit on a raised platform and levitate large signs overhead to keep traffic flowing unimpeded. On some unseen schedule, the “Proceed” card for the north and south lanes is swapped with a “Clear Intersection” one, soon followed by “Halt,” allowing traffic going east and west to flow instead.

“I didn’t know they had cops here.”

“Only larger cities do, babe. Manehattan, Chicoltgo, here, and I think a few places on the west coast. Smaller cities like Baltimare don’t have the taxes to support a separate police force.”

A loud whistle blows, signaling a sign change. The carriage in front of Cure makes its turn, allowing him to see that he effectively has a green turn arrow with southbound traffic waiting behind a Halt sign. He rushes to follow behind, catching the policemare’s eye as he hurries by.

“Aye, aye! Get movin!” she calls in an oddly Irish accent. “That’s a good sonny, keep it movin!”

Once through the intersection he cocks a brow up at his mom. She shrugs, commenting, “Dunno. She must be Brayish or something.”

“From Brayerland?” he scoffs, chuckling.

“Well, duh,” she matter-of-factly responds.

The colt can only sigh and shake his head in disbelief. “This world,” he grumbles.

The pair continue down Walnut until they spot the large square that hosts the weekend market on their left. The area is a flat, lightly wooded space the size of an entire city block with stone paths running the perimeter and converging on the central plaza like spokes of a wheel. They all merge into a large, flat, open space in the middle where a number of tables are set up for customers of the food vendors on the weekend.

The offices that manage it are located just ahead of them on their right, opposite the plaza. It’s a rather indistinct building; three stories tall with a plain, flat, cement façade. A sign in front indicates the Writing House Property Management, along with a variety of other companies’ offices, are inside. A set of steps lead up to a pair of rotating doors with a larger, dragon-friendly swinging door between them.

Cure pulls the carriage into one of the diagonally angled parking spots outside the building, then solidifies the axles, undercarriage, and wheels into one solid piece to prevent it being stolen. He isn’t sure if theft is a big concern, and there are nicer carriages also parked, but it only takes a second to reverse.

Once inside it only takes a moment to find the right offices. The pair are met by a receptionist and asked to wait in the small lobby. As soon as Cure sits down his mom flops on his back, wrapping her forelegs possessively around his chest. He looks up, both to snuggle against her neck and to give her a questioning look for the somewhat unusual-in-public behavior.

“Let me talk,” she firmly insists.

He pauses a moment to ponder the demand. “Oh… kay? May I ask why?”

“Because. You are a focus of craziness. You can not do anything without the situation getting out of hoof. I want you to follow along like a good little colt - like a normal little colt - and let your mom be the adult. Okay?”

Cure opens his mouth to argue, hesitating as he tries to think of any time he and his mom have gone out that didn’t end up in some kind of oddball situation. There’s plenty, granted, but for every one it feels like there’s at least a couple she could point to that did go sideways.

“Fine,” he grumps, laying to rest his chin on his crossed pasterns.

He’s rewarded with a nuzzle and a kiss on his brow. “Good. I’ll have us out of here in no time, then we can get ourselves a little treat, hit your shop, and go pop in at the Inquirer before we head home.”

“We should take back something. A couple of those big cheesecakes sounds good.”

“Oooh… that does sound good!” she agrees, eyes widening in fat mare glee. “What kind of flavor should we get?”

“Plain. I can make any syrups or whatever with my plant. Raspberry sounds freakin delicious. Shame Oreo isn’t an option, me and Cyn-” his breath catches and he goes stock still.

“Babe? You okay?” Title gives him an extra little squeeze and nuzzles at his ear. “It’s okay, sweetie. Come on. They’re gonna call us soon.”

“Sorry,” he sighs. “There was a restaurant they used to go to when they were dating. It kinda got too expensive later on, but they had like fifty different kinds of cheesecakes. They would go there and share one ‘cause they were so dense and huge they’d both be sick of they got their own. I could probably pound a whole cake now without even cheating and be fine.”

“Cure.”

“What?”

She lifts his chin with her right hoof and tilts her head to stare directly into his eyes. “You have to take me there. It must happen.”

“HAH! You bet, momma. Gimme a century or so and we’ll ask Magic to find a way to make it happen. There’s plenty of stories of her doing either that or the opposite, so…” he drifts off with a shrug. “Oh! Or I can ask the boss if she’s made any progress with that mirror. It’s been a while since I followed up with her on that. Depending on the whole time mechanic, who knows? Maybe that place exists over there.”

“Mmm… that’s definitely worth checkin in to.”

“Yeah, never mind the technological advancements and potential trade options. Mom wants Oreo cheesecake, so we gotta make it happen.”

“Damn right!” she agrees with a cheery hoofpump.

The door beside the receptionist window opens and a dark purple dragoness pokes her head out. Her horns and belly both have a darker beige, nearly brown color and, instead of frills, she has actual hair in a lighter pink shade. Her wing membranes are the same pink color, contrasting against the darker purple of the skin surrounding the supporting skeletal structures. She looks at the pair and, in a deep, rumbly, voice with a mild hiss, calls out, “Misssuss Ssearch?”

Hoof raised like a student being called on, his mom calls out, “Yo!” then climbs off her son and hops down to the floor.

Rather than take them back to an office, the dragoness steps out into the lobby on three legs carrying a clipboard. Though she is a head taller than his mom, she has a lithe frame with no substantial muscle visible on her. Mom and son, the latter still on the couch, pause as she makes her way over.

Without introducing herself, she rotates the clipboard around to show a map of the market plaza broken down into a grid and labeled. The entire market save a few spots to the southeast is all marked off, indicating only a few available locations. “I undersstand you wisshed to ssecure a sstall? Azs you can ssee we’re already nearly full for thiss weekend.”

“Ah. No, sorry. Bit of confusion there. We’re here in advance. September 19th is the date we need.”

“See if we can get a bigger spot, ma. Maybe a four-square that’s all together.”

“Sure thing, honey.”

“Ooohh! Sseptember 19th!” she exaggeratedly exclaims. With the clipboard in her right claws she extends her wing and carefully flips through the pages until she arrives at the one for the correct date. “Here we go! That’ss much better!”

“Sweet! My son will want a spot with lots of room, or a few together if needed.”

“There are larger plotss, but each vendor can only rent one. Thesse are more exxpenssive, however. Are you ccertain?”

“Yes, ma’am!” he eagerly chirps. “The bigger, the better. I’m headed to the paper to get ads running as soon as we’re done here, so I’m expecting lotsa traffic. I’ll need room for waiting customers, a secure area for the dough, and a spot to see all the ponies and dragons that’ll be comin by.”

A look of curiosity crosses her face as she looks between the two. “What, exactly, will you be sselling? Are you an artisst?”

Cure lights up at the question, throwing both hooves at the dragoness as if he’s presenting her to a crowd. “You bet I am! What I sell is perfection, of course! Magnificence! The unbridled beauty of a creature such as yourself that looks their very best!

“I don’t like to toot my own horn-” his mom scoffs faintly which he chooses to ignore, “-but those lovely gemstones you call eyes are gazing upon the foremost and finest cosmetic alteration specialist on this side of Canterlot. Maybe even both sides! Why, just visualize the most unfathomably stunning you you can, write out some ideas, and come see me in a few weeks and I’ll tell ya what, you’ll be singin my praises for the rest ‘a yer life, I bet!”

The eruption of exuberance gives the dragoness pause as she absorbs the word vomit exploding from the colt. Not completely buying it, she looks to his mom for confirmation. “He really is phenomenal. It’s his special talent. Show her the paper, honey,” she instructs, nudging Cure with her fetlock.

The colt reaches into his mane and pulls out the article from the morning, passing it to the dragoness. She briefly glances over her withers when the door opens and the receptionist steps out, interested in what the colt is offering as well. The young unicorn had been listening in on the whole conversation.

The pair read the article from the Baltimare Sun in silence for a moment, then pass it back while uttering quiet sounds of interest.

It’s the mare that speaks up first, asking, “How much?”

Cure whips out a list of his services and his fees and passes it over. In addition to his typical services, he’s included a number of dragon-themed options such as frill, wing, and claw alterations, scale resurfacing, tail-end customization, horn adjusting, and others.

“Here’s a list of the services I offer. Now I know it looks bad that I’m charging dragons a lot more and I promise there’s a very good reason for it.” He focuses his attention on the dragoness and explains, “I’m sure you’re very much aware how magic-resistant y’all are, right?”

“Of coursse.”

With a teasing lilt he indicates the staff on his withers and continues, “I’m not a unicorn, as you may have both gathered. I don’t have the magic capacity of an adult such as yourself,” he explains, flicking his eyes to the mare. “It takes about ten times as much magic for me to make alterations to a dragon, so I absolutely have to charge more as a result.

“That’s not even taking into account the physical size difference. I figure a single dragon over about five meters tall will completely tap me out for at least half an hour, while I could see five to ten other creatures in that same time. It’s not fair, I’ll admit, but… what can I do?” he asks, shrugging helplessly.

“That… makess ssensse, I ssupposse,” she begrudgingly admits, passing the article and his price list back to him. The mare must have lost interest when she read the prices; she didn’t even wait for him to finish talking before making her way back through the door to her window and resumed her bored look. “I have ssome family that may be interessted. Azs for your sstall sselection,” she pauses, flipping to a blank form and passing the clipboard to Title, “pleasse fill thiss out, then we’ll collect your payment, and you’ll be all sset!”

It only takes a moment for his mom to do just that. A hundred and fifty bits later, Cure has a copy of the form and a receipt showing his designated lot reservation is confirmed and the two turn to leave.

“You didn’t sit there and be quiet like I asked,” his mom grumbles as soon as they leave the office.

“You asked me for input first. Besides, nothing went wrong,” he responds with an indifferent shrug.

“Honey,” she calls in a chiding tone. His ears reflexively pin back as he steps closer, pressing his cheek against her shoulder and staring up with his big, brown eyes. “That won’t work. Nothing went wrong this time, but if I ask you to let me take care of something, please do.”

“Sorry, ma,” he apologizes, voice full of contrition. “I’ll be good at the paper, promise.”

She reaches down to nuzzle between his ears. “That’s all I ask, sweetheart. Now, I know you’re wanting to go to the crystal shop, so let’s-” she pauses as the two step through the revolving doors. Her eyes immediately land on a pair of policemares standing on the sidewalk in front of their cart. A dull yellow unicorn is scribbling in an open pad while her partner, also a unicorn, but with a deep gray coat, walks around inspecting the vehicle.

“What the fuck?!” he quietly exclaims.

“Don’t you do a single thing,” she sternly insists as they start to approach the pair. “I’m not going to get arrested ‘cause of you mouthing off.”

“Goddamn right you won’t,” he growls under his breath.

“Seriously. Don’t!” she warns. “Something wrong, officers?” she calls out once she gets closer.

“Unlicensed cab,” the one scribbling away dismissively answers.

“Unlicensed?” she questions, head tilting in confusion. “You need a license?!”

A few passing ponies chuckle mockingly as they trot by. Cure distinctly hears one make a comment about an “earth pony rube” that immediately gets his hackles up. His mom’s hoof pressing on his withers keeps him in place even if he does whip his head around to give the stallion a menacing glare.

“Every cab needs a license,” is the officer’s bored response. She continues scribbling away without even looking at the pair.

Cure spares a moment to look at the carriages that are going about the city. None of them have license plates as he’s come to expect, but they each have an eight character mix of numbers and letters inscribed on the sides and back along the bottom trim. He’d assumed they were serial numbers before, but now he feels dumb for not making the connection.

“It’s my son’s cart, not a cab providing services.”

“Cab’s a cab, ma’am.”

“This isn’t a cab. It’s a cart. He literally made it himself and I’m the only pony that’s ever been in it.”

Both mares pause and turn to regard the two. Their eyes go down to the colt, then up to the mare before they share a look. The yellow one waves a hoof between them, asking, “You’re sayin you make your son pull you around in this?”

“I wouldn’t say I make him,” she begins to argue.

“What would you say, exactly?” the other one finally speaks up.

“Pardon?”

“You don’t make him,” she echoes back, “but you have a cart you’re sayin he doesn’t do nothin with but pull you in. Is that right?”

“I… guess?”

She looks to Cure and asks, “How old are you, son?”

“Old enough to pull my mom in a cart,” he replies in a huff.

“That ain’t a number, colt.”

“That’s very observant of you, officer. Or maybe with those deductive skills I should say detective?”

“He’s nine,” Title quickly answers, seeking to deescalate the situation.

“So let me get this straight,” Gray begins. “You, a healthy, fit looking earth pony mare, have a cart that your son, who is nine and has a smart mouth, pulls you around in that serves no other purpose than to haul your rear around. That ‘bout right, ma’am?”

“Well… I guess? But we just got it for this trip. It’s not like we’ve used it a lot.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah.”

“Where’re you from?”

“Baltimare.”

Cure almost reflexively facehooves at the answer. Both unicorns’ mouths gape open at his mom’s response.

Yellow nearly growls asking, “You’re from Baltimare? And your son pulled you from there in this cart?!”

She hesitates, looking in panic between Cure underneath her hoof and the two officers that look ready to pounce. “Uhh…”

Finally out of patience, Cure speaks up. “Enough.”

“What was that, colt?” Yellow gruffly asks.

“I said enough. I don’t have time for this crap.”

“Son, you just sit there and be quiet. We’ll take-”

“No,” he interrupts, teleporting a scroll from seemingly nowhere to between the four ponies. The move draws a few curious looks from passers-by, but everycreature assumes the two unicorns are responsible. He uses his staff to levitate it to the stunned, and suddenly wary officers.

Gray hesitantly takes it in her aura and unrolls it.

By order of His Royal Highness, Prince Serpentus of Equestria:

The Fillydelphia Police Officers with badges number 714 and 4848 are to ask no more questions. They are to go about their day and forget they ever interacted with a young, blue, disguised alicorn and his mother. They are to forget they ever saw his cart or had a conversation (which did not happen) in front of the Writing House Market Administrative Offices on Tuesday, August 18th at 3:15 in the afternoon.

If, for some reason, they cannot forget said encounter (which did not happen), any questions should be directed to only His Grace, Marquis Merryland, or the Royal Guard Captain in Fillydelphia and absolutely nopony else, including any commanding officers in the police force.

Signed,
His Royal Highness, Prince Serpentus

Her coat pales slightly as she looks at the stamped, signed order with the prince’s cutie mark. It pales further when she looks at the nearly identical mark on his flank that shifts to the prince’s for an instant and his eyes briefly change to gold.

She shows the note to her extremely curious partner whose eyes widen as she reads it. “Oh shit,” she mumbles.

“Oh shit indeed,” he gravely agrees. “I’ll be taking that back,” he says, motioning at the note that suddenly flashes out of existence. “Good day, officers. Remember: Silence is golden. Mom? I think it’s time for us to go.”

Meekly nodding, Title hops to and starts making her way to the passenger cab. “Sure thing, babe.”

Neither unicorn moves, only turning to watch as the colt steps into the harness. He meets their eyes and wills the straps of the harness to wrap around his chest and withers with no visible signs of magic use. Both their eyes widen further when a set of random numbers and letters suddenly appear on the back and sides of the cart. Neither moves a muscle as he unfreezes the wheels, backs out of the spot, makes a U-turn, and merges into traffic.

<< Apologies for interrupting your day, Marquis Merryland, >> he Sends. << I am in your town on business today. I had an encounter with two officers near the Writing House Market that forced me to reveal my identity. Badges 714 and 4848. Please dispatch somepony to advise them of the importance of discretion at your earliest convenience. >>

The pair travel in the relative silence of the busy street for a few minutes as they move past the main avenue, pause as the traffic signals are swapped out, and make their way to the store Cure spotted from the air. It isn’t until they’re parked in front of the shop that his mom finally speaks up, asking, “What did you put on that note, Cure?”

“There was no note, ma. That whole encounter never happened. They saw nothing, heard nothing, and will remember nothing. I’ve already notified the marquis and asked him to send somepony to talk to the two to reaffirm that nothing happened.”

“Don’t you think that’s overkill, honey?”

“There’s no kill like overkill. C’mon, let’s get these crystals, go to the paper, get that cheesecake, and get the fudge out of here before something else goes wrong. We also gotta drop mom’s letter in a box somewhere. I bet they’ll have one near the newspaper.”

“Probably,” she agrees, following the colt into the store. She nearly steps on him when he pauses suddenly, looking to his left a dozen meters down the sidewalk. She follows his eyes to a food cart operated by a dragon. Just like the pony carts selling treats, this one has a couple other dragons in line. It seems a little late in the day for lunch, but she supposes somedragons may just work a later shift than is normal.

It’s no surprise there’s not any ponies waiting; the stall has a picture of cooked chicken drumsticks overtop flames. The scent biting at her snout tells Title that they’re far, far too spicy for most ponies to enjoy, even if they do like meat. The sound of lips loudly smacking has her looking down at him again, barely holding back a chuckle. “Get a move on, babe. You can get some when we leave.”

“Fine,” he huffs, continuing in the store.

She blinks in confusion when, between the door opening and him stepping in, a typical unicorn horn is suddenly jutting from his brow and his coat and mane suddenly match her pink and purple. “What the…?”

“I had a problem in Canterlot,” he begins quietly explaining. “The attendant was rude ‘cause I was disguised as a pegasus, so… yeah, not doing that again.” Rather than shop around the store, he makes his way directly to the counter and waits in line. The mare in front of him finishes her purchase, turns, glances at the earth pony mare and earth-unicorn looking foal, sniffs in disdain, and walks out the door.

“Cunt,” he quietly growls, watching her go. He steps up to the register and rears up, smiling his most polite smile at the older sea green mare behind the counter. “Good afternoon, ma’am! I am in need of a whole bunch of mid-low crystals for a project. Do you, by any chance, offer a discount for somepony buying in bulk?”

She initially reacts to the colt exactly the same, first focusing on his apparent dam, then panning her gaze down to him. Unlike the customer, her expression is one of pity, a look that irks the colt almost as much as the customer’s contempt. “How many? Mid-low are a hundred and thirty each.”

The lower price nearly makes the colt’s heart sing. Tail dancing and eyes sparkling, he enthusiastically begs, “If you can knock it down to one-twenty I’d take fifty off your hooves right now! That’s six thousand bits, cash, right here, right now,” he says, tapping the counter top while floating six one-thousand bit coins out of his mane. “Whatta ya say, ma’am? Can you cut an excited, adorable colt a little break?!”

“I won’t make nothin off of them at one-twenty,” she defers, his countenance instantly deflating. “A hundred‘n twenty-five, take it or leave it.”

“Deal!” he cheers, withdrawing the extra two hundred and fifty bits.

The mare scoops the coins off the counter, running each over a glowing stone just like the one he’d seen in Canterlot. Once she confirms they’re all legit she ducks down under the counter and begins gathering the colt’s purchase. “Want ‘em all in a single bag?”

“Yep! Thanks, ma’am! Also, where can I get one of those counterfeit detectors?”

She floats one up to set it on the counter. “Four hundred bits.”

“I’ll take it!” he instantly agrees, levitating the cash out and taking the stone.

Title leans closer, whispering in his ear, “What in the hay do you need fifty crystals for?”

“A project to help obscure my identity.”

“How are fifty crystals going to do that?” she quietly questions.

“If you promise to keep it a secret I’ll tell ya on the way home.” She gives him an unsure look, so he adds, “It won’t be a secret for long. I just want to abuse it for fun before I have to tell everypony else.”

“Fine,” she forcefully agrees, “but if it’s funny then I get to be in on it!”

“You got it, ma,” he assures her. “I’m sure if we put our heads together we’ll come up with somethin good.”

Title has to hold back a chuckle watching the colt. The whole time the mare is ducked behind the counter gathering up the crystals his little booty is wiggling as he shifts back and forth. The pink coat and purple mane on a colt look kind of strange, but it’s not a bad look. She once again considers having her husband put a colt in her if her estrus hits this fall. Mares don’t usually go into heat again right after having a foal, but she’s confident Cure can make it happen easily enough.

It takes a minute for the clerk to gather the colt’s purchase, count out the crystals, ensure they’re all in flawless condition, and put them in a cloth bag. She levitates them over the counter where he takes them in his magic, watching on in confusion when they disappear into his mane. Title knows it amuses the colt to no end how much bullshit he can get away with, but it still shocks her to this day that even the princess herself merely looked on curiously when he used his compressed bag right there in her throne room.

With a jaunty wave, the colt pushes off of the counter and starts making his way to the exit, mind on one thing and one thing only: spicy dragon chicken drumsticks from the stall outside. His colors revert and his horn disappears in an instant once they cross the threshold to the store. With his mom following more sedately, he nearly skips in glee over to the stall and gets in line behind a dark blue dragoness and her equally dark, but green scaled son.

Cure estimates the whelp is about his own age, and has a similar, but less stocky build. His wings haven’t come in yet, and his horns are little more than bumps protruding out the side of his head. As soon as Cure steps in line he turns around to face him, snapping out, “This isn’t pony food, stupid colt. Get lost!” in a surprisingly high-pitched, childlike voice.

“It’s a free country, bro. I can eat what I want.”

“It’s meat, you idiot.”

Cure presses his hooves against his cheeks and shouts, “No! Freaking! Way! I totally couldn’t tell from the pictures of drumsticks literally right on the side of it!”

The young dragon’s eyes narrow and he puffs himself up. “Got a real smart mouth, donchya, colt?”

“Sure do, whelp,” Cure replies, tone and posture matching.

“Both of you behave,” Title and the dragoness growl at once, each one lightly smacking the back of their respective son’s heads. Both youths shoot annoyed glares at their moms before resuming their hostile stare-off.

“It’s spicy,” the young drake points out. Tone condescending, he adds, “Too spicy for a little pony.”

“Who’s little? I’m as big as you are, buddy.”

“But you’re a weak pony,” he replies, spitting the word out like a curse.

Cure shrugs and argues, “Maybe you’re a weak dragon. It doesn’t smell that spicy ta me.”

Unacknowledged by the pair, a number of passing ponies and dragons have taken note of their argument. Only a few stop to watch, likely waiting for something physical to break out, but several slow their trot to see what happens.

“Am not!” the whelp growls, taking a half step closer to Cure.

The young alicorn follows suit, chest almost touching the dragon’s. “Bet you are!”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah!”

The whelp pokes Cure challengingly in the chest with a knuckle. “Then you won’t have any problem eating the spiciest flavor, will you?”

Cure swats the paw to the side and indignantly replies, “Darn right I won’t. Bet you’ll cry like a baby, though,” he mockingly retorts.

Several of the ponies watching cringe at the challenge. The stall owner starts looking a little worried at the direction the argument is going. He leans over the stall and gives Title a warning that she waves away unconcerned.

“Dragons don’t cry!”

Title looks between the colt and whelp and quietly sighs, asking, “Why do you have to always make a spectacle out of everything?”

“Males,” the dragoness huffs, not even looking back. The customer in front of her finally moves out of the way and she steps forward to place her order.

“Better get the mild sauce,” Cure teases. “Maybe get some nice, cold milk to wash it down. We don’t want your tummy getting upset,” he adds in a patronizing tone.

“You shut up!” the whelp growls. He turns to his dam, demanding, “Give me the hottest they have!”

“Make it two orders. My treat,” Cure insists, holding a few bits out in offering.

The whelp snatches them right out of Cure’s hoof, turns, and slams them on the cart’s counter, growling, “Two orders with Triple Inferno sauce!”

The proprietor gives Title a worried look. She huffs and complains, “You are being such a foal,” but still nods and waves to the stall owner to go ahead.

“I’m enjoyin myself!” he defensively insists. “Besides, getting the hot stuff wasn’t my idea.”

“You could have said no,” she idly points out.

“I could have,” he agrees, “but now I’m curious.” Over a dozen ponies and dragons are now watching the pair, waiting to see how it plays out.

“Order up,” the vendor calls, sliding six huge, meaty drumsticks wrapped in three bundles of wax paper to the dragoness. He looks at Title and cocks a brow, silently asking if she wants anything, then nodding when she shakes her head no.

The three take their food and move out of the way of the line that’s suddenly a fair amount longer. Cure isn’t sure how many dragons got in line just to watch the spectacle, but nearly everycreature’s eyes are on the pair. They move off to the side next to one of the store’s windows and sit on their rumps to eat.

“Well?” the whelp challenges. Smirking, he waves to the meat and offers, “Go ahead. Give it a try.”

Cure unwraps one of the drumsticks and takes a sniff. His sinuses explode open like a shattering dam at the nearly toxic levels of capsaicin in the sauce. He clamps down control immediately to keep his snout from gushing on the sidewalk. With an uncaring shrug, he opens wide and takes a big bite, ripping off a large chunk of meat. He cocks his head to the side while chewing, slowly nodding in approval. “Not bad. I mean, it’s spicy, granted, but not really what I would call spicy, ya know?”

The whelp, dragoness, vendor, and nearly every spectator looks on bewildered at the casual reaction.

“It’s probably too hot for most ponies, I’ll grant,” he adds, pausing to turn to the side. He creates his chemical fire mixture in his mouth, belching the concoction into the air in a bright green burst of flames. “But yeah, not bad overall, I guess. Gotta be honest; some ranch would be pretty good on ‘em. Hey do me a favor real quick.”

“Huh?”

“Pull my foreleg,” he says, reaching out with an empty hoof.

The dragon hesitates a second, looking between the colt’s smirking muzzle and the hoof dangling in the air. Hesitantly, he reaches out, grasps Cure’s foreleg, and gives it a light tug.

The alicorn’s tail pops up into the air followed by a backdoor blast of green fire. His eyes widen in shock and he lets out a whooping holler. “Dem’s some spicy beans, lemme tell ya! Wooo doggie!”

The reaction from the crowd is split by species. The dragons look on in approval, cheering, laughing, and giving the colt a respectful nod as he dances in place. The few unicorns that had stopped to watch look like they’re seeing a creature they’ve never known existed before, with several of them hurrying to put some distance between themselves and the disgusting dragon-earth-pony-thing shooting fire in the air from both ends.

Cackling madly at the prank, the whelp nearly drops his drumsticks, only salvaging the fumble at the last second. Unwilling to be shown up by the pony foal, he unwraps one of his drumsticks completely, tossing the entire piece, bone and all, into his maw at once. A thunderous crunch sounds out as the whelp bites down on the drumstick, shattering the bone into shards. He smirks proudly at the colt and swallows the entire bite in one gulp.

Cure narrows his eyes at the implied challenge and follows suit, confusing the whelp and his dam even more at the sounds of the drumstick crunching between his teeth.

The whelp’s cheeks start changing color, gaining a healthy red glow as the heat registers. He does his noble best to not show discomfort, but the welling of tears in his eyes, the shallow breaths, and the sniffling back of running snot gives him away. Dragons lack sweat glands, but Cure can still smell the young drake’s growing unease. He quickly finishes chewing, swallowing loudly despite his worsening irritation.

Upping the stakes, Cure swallows his bite, then throws the other drumstick, sauce-drenched paper and all, up in the air, catching it in his maw on the way down before crunching down.

Title sighs and shakes her head at the display. Seeing the whelp’s discomfort, she looks to his dam and asks, “Is your son going to be okay?”

“He’ll be shooting fire from both ends later too, but he’ll be fine. Eventually,” the dragoness coldy replies. “Call it a learning experience,” she chuckles. She stares at the unbothered colt for a moment and finally asks, “What is your son? He doesn’t look like a kirin at all.”

“He’s a freak. He can eat anything,” she answers, watching with concern as the red glow begins creeping down the young drake’s neck and chest, darkening his lighter green throat and belly. “Does he need some water?”

“I’m fine!” the whelp snaps. He can only hold his composure for a moment before he starts hunching over in agony, glowing more and more red as the food hits his stomach. “Just… just give me a second.”

“You’re going to be sick all evening now,” the dragoness sighs.

“Gonna be a long night, bro,” the colt teases, voice devoid of sympathy. “You may end up wantin an icepack for yer butthole later, brah.”

“How are you okay?!” the drake demands of Cure. “Ponies can’t eat food that hot! Especially meat!”

The colt lazily shrugs, vaguely explaining, “I just cheat really well. Like my ma said, my talent lets me eat anything. I could fix you up in a second, if you want, but only if your dam says it’s okay.”

“I’m fine!” the drake repeats, though this time with less enthusiasm. He does a poor job holding back a moan of discomfort, something his dam picks up on immediately.

“Fix him how?” the dragoness asks.

“I can take away the heat in the sauce we ate. That’s why it didn’t bother me. The flames were just a party trick.”

“You cheated!” the drake declares.

Unrepentantly, Cure nods in agreement. “Duh? I just said that. You would too if you could.”

A whine escapes the young dragon as he hunches over himself, holding his belly with his paws, his other drumstick long forgotten. The look he gives the colt says he wants to argue, but at the same time is unwilling to dispute the point.

“Do you mind?” the dragoness asks, looking between Title and Cure in question.

His mom shakes her head no and waves to the whelp. “Do it. And quit being a pest to everycreature we meet.”

The colt huffs and makes a show of reaching for his staff. He pulls it off his withers and spins it around his hoof a few times, then strikes the butt of it hard on the ground holding it upright. It glows like a unicorn’s horn, drawing looks from curious spectators, all of which is completely unnecessary. He activates his talent, reaches over, and lightly taps the whelp on the crown of his head, Transmuting all the capsaicin into water and calming the young dragon’s stomach.

“All set, bud. My name’s Cure Wave. I don’t think you gave me yours,” Cure says, holding a hoof out in introduction.

“Cragle,” the drake replies, somewhat wary of the odd colt. “You’re really weird for a pony,” he points out, bumping the offered hoof with his knuckles. “What kind of pony eats meat and blasts fire?!”

Cure scoffs, rolling his eyes. “Only the awesomest ponies in the world, duh.”

“Yeah… yeah, I guess that would make a pony alright. As far as ponies go, at least. I thought only unicorns used magic,” he notes, examining the staff held in the crook of the colt’s fetlock. “What is that made of? It looks valuable.” He only stares a few seconds, seemingly fixating on it as if it’s made from solid gold.

A vague memory of the episode where Spike grows immense due to greed twigs the colt’s memories, so he promptly gives it a twirl and tucks it straight into his mane, out of the sight of the whelp. The young drake blinks a couple times as if coming out of a trance, then looks at Cure’s mane in confusion.

Seeking to escape from the situation before it gets out of hoof, Cure gives the pair of dragons a farewell wave as he starts making his way to the cart. “Well, it’s been fun and all, but we gotta get moving. I’ll be back in town on September 19th. If ya got any rich family members send ‘em to my stall at the Writing House Market. If you think the fire thing was cool then you won’t believe what I can really do.”

“This is… not what I expected,” Cure honestly confesses upon entering the offices of the Inquirer. Pandemonium is a word that comes to mind. Chaos, whether it be controlled or not is unclear, but given that the newspaper has been in business for hundreds of years, there must be some pattern to the madness.

Though the front desk is rather typical, the motion and volume of the workspace behind the desk causes both foal’s and parent’s ears to pin back as soon as they walk in the building. The entirety of what Cure assumes is the office staff are all working out of a single, enormous room. Long desks are spaced out every few meters, stretching from the thin, wood and glass barrier behind the receptionists all the way to the back of the room where, from the looks of the fancier suits and dresses, the executives are separated in their own private offices.

Teams of creatures of all types are gathered in bunches, seemingly shouting at each other over countless articles strewn about. A small section of desks to the right of the main office area is where all of the typists are, the vast majority of them being dragons, griffons, minotaur. Knowing how difficult working a typewriter is for most ponies, it makes sense to the colt that they’re primarily employing beings with distinct digits in that area, but that’s the only sense he can make of the scene in front of him.

Because insanity is not limited to two dimensions, pegasi, bats, griffons, and smaller dragons are zipping to and fro from table to table, transferring paperwork between the teams and a separate group of workers all huddled around a single, enormous desk, every member of which is pointing at one spot or another and yelling an argument for why something belongs wherever they’ve put it.

The noise is, in Cure’s opinion, the most offensive aspect of the disorganization. Nearly every member of each team seems to be energetically arguing a point with the entire room, resulting in a hundred shouting matches all happening at once. The thin divider between the work area and the front lobby is wholly inadequate, and the absence of sound muffling enchantments in a predominantly unicorn city strikes the colt as a crime against equinity.

“What in the hay is going on in here?” Title asks aloud, her eyes panning over the busy newsroom uncomprehendingly.

The receptionist closest to the pair, an extremely bored looking white and dark brown eagless with reading glasses on, sets her magazine down and peers over the rims of her glasses at the two. “It’s Tuesday,” she offers with a shrug. “Can I help you?”

Title slowly nods, struggling to look away from the scene behind the divider. “We want to place an ad in the paper.”

“Marketing,” is the one word response from the hen. She leans back and cranes her neck to face up and back at the divider and shouts, “DIAMOND! GET UP HERE!” startling both Title and Cure with the volume and shrillness of her screech, even though she is facing away from the pair. She returns to her magazine a moment later, neither looking to ensure she was heard or deigning to further acknowledge the pair.

A pegasus mare with a deep orange coat and a royal blue mane zips to the top of the divider, head and shoulders overtop while her forelegs hold her to the side like a Garfield plush on a car window. “WHAT?!” she screeches back at the griffon, causing Cure to instinctively take a step closer to his mom. The eagless doesn't bother responding, waving her magazine vaguely in the pair's direction.

The mare, presumably Diamond, spares a second to look at the two bewildered ponies. A look of realization crosses her face. She flaps her wings and pulls herself the rest of the way up, springing off the top of the divider with her back hooves to glide over, landing gracefully to Title’s right. “You here to place an ad?” she asks, turning to face the pair.

At Title’s nod she says, “Great! This way!” and turns, waving a wing and trotting away without ensuring the pair followed behind her.

The pair share a look, shrug in tandem, then start following behind the mare. She leads them to the side of the reception desk and pushes open a swinging door, making her way into an enclosed office on the right side of the building, never looking back until she plops down a cushion behind her short, completely paper-covered desk.

The walls around her office are only slightly taller than an earth pony and offer absolutely no shelter from the storm of noise going on outside. Title still closes the door as she steps through, praying against the odds that a Sound Bubble would activate.

Diamond doesn’t pay the noise any mind at all, opening her mouth to start talking and pausing only a moment when the colt’s staff lights up.

Pure, blissful silence fills the room. Both Title and Cure exhale a sigh of relief and relax their posture as the deluge comes to an abrupt halt.

“Useful,” Diamond comments, bobbing her head in an approving nod. “Red Diamond. So, what can I do ya for?”

“A pleasure,” Title responds. “Title Search and my son, Cure Wave. We’re from Baltimare. He’s renting a stall at the Writing House Market on September 19th. We want to place an ad for his services.”

The mare inclines her head in thought, muttering “Cure Wave… Cure Wave… that rings a bell.”

“Maybe you -” she starts.

“No! Don’t tell me!” the newspony interrupts, waving her hooves for her to stop. “You that colt that got caught vandalizin the mayor’s house? Good on ya, son!” She raps on her desk with a hoof as she adds, “That idiot’s spending on all’a these goins-ons is gettin out of hoof! Wastin my tax dollars on these damn gem festivals each month when he oughta be worryin ‘bout all the break-ins south ‘a town.”

“Umm… no?” he hesitantly replies.

“No? Oh, wait! You’re from Baltimare?”

“Yeah. We just took a cab up here this morning. I never vandalized nothin.”

“Ah. Apologies.”

Title speaks up, asking, “Did you read the Baltimare Sun today, by any chance?”

“The Baltimare Sun? What’s that… OH!” she shouts, shooting to her hindlegs and propping herself up on her desk, orange wings spread wide. “You’re that cosmetic colt, aintchya? The one what did up that prince wannabe. My sister’s fillyfriend got her wings done by ya. Yellow mare with a blue coat? Lightning bolts arcin out the primaries?” she explains, motioning to her spread left wing with a hoof as she does.

“Oh yeah!” he says, eyes lighting up in recognition. “I remember her. Boltwing’s the name she gave me.”

She thrusts a hoof over her desk at the colt, bobbing her head in agreement. “THAT’S HER! Featherbrain’s got skill, even if she’s damn full’a herself. Boltwing,” she scoffs. “So…” she begins, calmly sitting back down, “comin up here ta Filly for a day, eh? Gonna be seein customers in the park?”

“Ponies, griffons, zebras, minotaur, dragons, you name it.”

“You ever worked on a dragon before, colt? Magic don’t work on ‘em real good, I hear.”

“I have. A young dragoness a few months back. I should be fine. Special talent, ya know?”

“Alright… alright… so, whatchya got in mind? Big bits need a big ad. We talkin full page? Sunday? Color? Got some samples ready?”

“Yes, yes, yes, and yes,” his mom answers for him. She gives him a go-ahead wave, prompting him to reach in his mane and pull out a full page ad he’d prepared.

She leans over to take the ad, chuckling at the way he pulled the paper out. “Neat trick, colt. You’re just full’a’em, ainchya?”

“Full‘a somethin,” Title mutters, smirking when he shoots her a weak glare.

“Introducing the New You!” the mare quietly chuckles, reading the heading aloud. “Nice line.” She continues to look over the ad, bobbing her head and making small, quiet utterances of approval as she goes.

The main feature is a full-page picture of a made up blue pegasus mare with a red mane from a top-down perspective; her wings spread out flat and her tail straight down towards the bottom of the page. The left half of her is a simple “before” shot. The wrinkles on her face, sagging skin on her cheeks, and fading, graying colors show her age, as does her slightly drooping, plain wing.

The right half is revitalized with brightened, bolder colors and smoothed out skin, looking as if she’s in her mid twenties. Her wing is reshaped to that of an alicorn, is disproportionately larger, held rigid, and has a banded golden pattern lining her feathers. Each modification is highlighted with a small description to the side along with a price. A disclaimer at the bottom emphasizes that the deaging is purely cosmetic and does not extend natural lifespans, but does improve health and mobility significantly.

Along the right side are smaller sections for each race he’s scanned, including a note regarding the difficulty and increased price for draconic customers.

“Nice… nice… very, very nice. Well, stars, I don’t see much needin changed here. Now comes the part nopony likes.”

“How much?” Title guesses.

She points a hoof and nods in confirmation. “Bingo. Full page, color ads in the Sunday paper aren’t cheap. Of course, goin by these prices, I doubt that’s a problem. We have viewership of over fifty thousand households in the greater Filly area, so you’re lookin at a whole cartload’a exposure. Better ‘n anypony else in town,” she brags. “All it’ll cost ya is fifteen grand a week.”

“Fuck that!” escapes the colt’s mouth unbidden. The mare’s eyes snap to Cure, shock written on her face at his exclamation.

“Cure!” his mom scoldingly hisses, jabbing his side with her hoof.

Chuckling quietly at first, Diamond starts shaking in mirth before she finally bursts out laughing aloud, slapping her desk with her hoof. “HAHA! FUCK THAT! I LOVE IT!”

The mare continues cracking up for a moment while Title and Cure trade uneasy looks, unsure how to respond to her explosive laughter. Finally, she wipes her eyes with her pastern and gets herself under control. “Ohh… I needed that. Thanks, son. Seriously, though, I’m thinkin we do a three-by-thiry ad for ya instead.”

“Three by thirty?” his mom questions.

“Right. Three columns wide,” she motions across with her hoof in the air, then up and down as she says, “and thirty centimeters tall. It’s like a quarter of a page, give or take. Much more reasonable. Three grand a week, twelve grand total. We’ll have to adjust yer fonts, maybe bump one of your other races. Not a lot of griffons up here. That’s all included, though, no problem.”

Cure looks up to his mom. She turns and gives him a shrug and a single nod.

“Alright,” he agrees, reaching into his mane and pulling out a check. “The check goes to the Fillydelphia Inquirer?”

“Yup! Won’t be sad if ya made it to me, but the boss might be pissed.”

He fills it the rest of the way in with his talent while she looks on impressed. “... all kinds of tricks,” she repeats. “Your ad’ll show up startin this comin Sunday. Bein color and all, expect it to be in the first section. That’s where they put all the big spenders.”

“Sounds good, ma’am.”

“Ma’am,” she scoffs. “Makin me feel old here. Go on,” she waves at the door, “get outta here. Oh and, by the way,” she reaches her hoof out and, with a broad smile, says, “Pleasure doin business with ya.”

<< Tower, this is Ghost Rider, requesting a fly-by. >>

<< Oh! You’re back! Did everything go okay, honey? >>

<< Jeez, dam! Get with the program! The correct answer is “Negative, Ghost Rider, the pattern is full.” >>

A moment of silence passes as the two get closer to the house.

The feeling of a sigh is sent to the colt. << Fine. The pattern is full, sweetheart. Whatever that means. >>

“My disappointment knows no bounds,” he dejectedly laments out loud.

<< Never mind. Are the couches in the living room pushed to the side? >>

<< They’re stacked in the corner. There’s plenty of room as long as you face the kitchen. >>

<< Incoming in ten. >>

“Get ready, ma. We’re teleporting in five seconds.”

“I’m ready!”

“Two. One!” he shouts, activating the spell. While Teleportation can maintain momentum with the right spell structure, the most common version of the spell has the target arrive at a complete stand-still for safety purposes.

In a flash of light, Cure, Title, and the small cart pop into existence in the back living room, then fall barely a single centimeter to land on the ground. Cure blinks his eyes, clearing his vision to find a pair of green forelegs are already wrapping around him, even with the harness in the way. Vines and Amethyst had been busy in the kitchen, pausing only for a moment as the pair appeared. Deed, Lemon, and the rest of the foals are already seated around the table awaiting their return.

“Just in time, champ!” his sire calls in greeting. “Yer dam ‘n ma ‘bout got dinner ready for us. How’d it go?”

Already started disassembling the cart and reabsorbing the matter into his plant, Cure opens the canopy and looks back to see his mom still getting her bearings after the Teleport. He leans more heavily into his dam’s embrace, carefully nuzzling into her chest without poking her. “Not bad, pa. I’ll fill ya in over dinner. Mom has some treats for everypony, though, so dessert’s on me tonight.” He softly adds, “Love you, dam,” and gives her a quick peck on her chin.

“Love you too, honey. Go clean up.”

Even though Cleaning works just as well, Cure heads to the bathroom to scrub his hooves and wipe down his face. He hears his mom excitedly cheering, “We’ve got cheesecake!” as he pulls the door shut. Slightly dehydrated from all the exertion, he turns on the sink, modifies his tongue into a straw, and sucks down liter after liter of water. He finishes cleaning up and rejoins his family at the table a moment later, giving his siblings a quick bit of love on the way.

“So, champ,” his sire begins, mirth evident in his voice, “rumor has it flyin with yer ma weren’t as easy as ya expected. We still on fer the family trip?”

“Absolutely, pa. I’ll just be taking a slightly different approach. It was no problem once I added some wings to the cab.”

“He’s right,” Title interjects. “The wings made all the difference. The view was amazing, by the way. The whole invisibility thing,” she tilts her head side to side, “eh, I coulda done without that. Looking straight down made my gut churn.”

Cure can’t help but notice the involuntary shivers from Amethyst and his dam. “That’s motion sickness, which I could have helped with,” he says, shooting a pout at his mom. “The best way to deal with it is to focus on the horizon. If you look the same direction you’re moving, that usually does the trick.”

Amethyst shakes her head in refusal. “I’ll pass. Would rather ya knock me out, colt.”

“Eh, we got time to sort out the details.”

“Fair ‘nuff.” She looks across the table to Title and asks, “He behave himself? Or, better yet,” she smirks and turns to Cure, “did she?”

“Hey!” the pink mare protests.

“Mostly,” he answers. “She did almost get arrested for foal abuse, but I smoothed things over.”

“Foal abuse?!” Vines echoes.

Deed shrugs and nods in understanding. “Colt has it comin sometimes,” he dismissively argues.

“That’s NOT funny!” his dam growls, shooting the stallion a heated glare.

“Two cops thought I’d made ‘em pull me all the way from Baltimare,” she begins.

“Which isn’t technically incorrect,” Lemon helpfully supplies.

“Quiet you,” Title chides. “So Cure does the whole ‘Prince Serpentus commands thee’ bit-”

He quietly huffs, “Unfair exaggeration.”

“- and scares ‘em off. Even Sends the marquis a command to have somepony come ‘talk’ to the two officers.”

Cure cringes, arguing, “I’m not sure I’d call it a command per se.”

“Right,” his mom sarcastically agrees. “His Royal Highness, Prince Serpentus, politely requested that the freaking Marquis of Merryland have somepony go scare the fudge out of two beat cops after he nearly made them soil themselves once already.”

“And how exactly would you have proposed we get out of that mess?” he defensively asks. “We could have gone to the police station, which would probably have ended the same but with paperwork, more witnesses, and way more time wasted, I could have done something to the cops there on a busy, public road, or I could play the prince card.”

“Yer lucky they believed ya,” Amethyst argues.

“More like they’re lucky,” he argues. “How many earth pony colts my age can cast Teleport with a staff and have the bravado to try that as a bluff?”

“You teleported?”

“I teleported a note to them that said to forget the whole thing,” he answers, nodding. “And flashed my real cutie mark. And made my eyes go gold.”

“Huh. Reckon that’d do it then.”

“Smart thinkin, sport,” his sire agrees. “Was tha best of a bad situation. I’m guessin ya got a good spot reserved?”

“Should be perfect,” Title answers. “It’s all the way to the north where you can see it from the street. Was pretty cheap, especially compared to the ad.”

“Highway robbery,” the colt huffs.

Deed chuckles at his whining. “Advertisin ain’t cheap, colt. A big paper like tha Inquirer? I’m guessin a couple grand ‘a week, round about.”

“Way more,” Title admits.

“Three grand a week for a quarter page!” Cure exclaims, hooves thrown in the air. “A whole one woulda cost five times as much!”

The sounds of chewing and silverware on plates comes to an abrupt halt. “Fifteen grand?!” Lemon asks, barely able to catch her breath.

“Fifteen grand,” Title affirms with a nod. “Per week. Sixty total. So yeah, he went with a quarter page ad for twelve grand total instead. Better hope this whole thing pans out.”

“Should have just airbombed the friggin city with flyers. I can’t imagine the ticket I woulda got hit with would have cost half as much.”

“I don’t think her majesty would have appreciated that,” his dam argues. “Or the marquis, for that matter.”

“Yeah,” he sighs, “probably not. Sometimes this whole prince thing is a total drag. It won’t matter though,” he dismisses with a flick of his wing, “I’ll make that back in under an hour, probably. Hopefully. Gonna be mighty ticked if this is a big ‘ol waste’a time.”

“I bet you’ll get plenty of customers, babe,” his mom says reassuringly. “I’m wondering how many dragons’ll show up. If they’re hundreds of years old they oughta have some serious money to spend.”

“They do,” Lemon confirms. “Almost every scrap of metal coming out of the city is from a dragon-owned company. They supply a good chunk of the entire nation’s steel. You should consider accepting gold as a form of payment,” she suggests. “Dragons use ingots as much as bits, so you can bet at least a few will try to pay with those.”

“Those were a pain ta deal with,” Amethyst grumbles. “Bits are way more convenient, especially in larger amounts.”

“Ugh, remember old Snagclaw?” Lemon grumps. “Grouchy old dragoness that owned an apartment complex we stayed in before we got married. ‘Two drakas a month!’” she imitates in the most gravely voice she can manage.

“She weren’t that bad. Kept any troublemakers away, that’s fer sure.”

Lemon concedes the point with a begrudging nod.

“Can you just take gold to the bank and convert it?” Cure asks.

“For a small fee,” Lemon answers. “A couple percent or so. Just gotta be sure it’s stamped and certified.”

“So, wait… you can go to the bank and buy gold, too?”

“Sure. Drakas were about a hundred and five bits each back then. They’re a little bigger than hundred bit coins and rectangular instead of round.”

“Oh. Okay.”

“There’s bigger ingots that are a tenth of a kilogram. They don’t usually use kilogram bars since they’re a little inconvenient, but they do exist. If you’re ever buying from a dragon they’ll probably appreciate it, but that can be a pain for big transactions.”

“Good ta know, though. Thanks, ma!”

“No problem, honey.”

“Shame my sire doesn’t ever teach me anything useful.”

“Hey now, that ain’t fair! I taught ya plenty!” He points across the table with a fork, waving it in accusation at his son. “Ya wouldn’t have all’a them fillies chasin ya if it weren’t fer yer pa settin such a great example.”

A pall of silence settles over the table as a quintet of very doubtful looks are cast upon the stallion.

“... disloyal. That’s what ya are. All’a ya,” he quietly grumbles, spearing a radish with more force than necessary.

“I wonder what the girls are all up to, anyhow,” Cure muses. << Hey Sunrise, you all doing anything tonight? >>

<< Was going to meet Coast and Rising after dinner. Want to head over? >>

<< You bet! Could use some chill time with some pretty ladies. Be there in a few. >>

“I’m guessing they’re free from that dumb smile,” Title remarks.

“Yep! Mind if I go, dam?”

“Go ahead, sweetie. Have fun with your little fillyfriends,” she teases.

“Don’t mind if I do!” he cheers. “Save me a slice of cheesecake if you can keep it from ma without anypony getting hurt.”

His dam glances warily between the pink mare and her son. “No promises.”

Author's Note

Okay, so busy chapter. I considered splitting this up and adding a few things in Filly, but this was supposed to be a quick jaunt to three places; very in and out. Well we can't have that, can we?

Cure very quickly realizes that doing everything himself may be more of a pain than its worth. There was, after all, nothing stopping him from paying a cabbie to drive him and his mom up there and back. Fillydelphia is less than fifty kilometers away, after all, so that's well in range of a typical pegasus. Maybe he'll learn from that and stop doing every single thing all on his own from now on. Maybe not. *shrug*

The majority of the chapter moved pretty quickly, which I'm not overly fond of. I've only just now gotten the house to myself, though, and that'll be coming to an abrupt halt at the end of February due to some serious work needing done. Absolute Money Pit, I swear.

Next week's chapter should be on time. The week after? Not sure. I'll keep everyone updated, as I have in the past.

Thanks for reading, rating, and especially commenting. Enjoy!

Chapter 96: Interactive Evidence

Friday, August 21st, 909 AB (3 days later)
Breakfast

“Gotta be a dozen articles just this week, colt!” his sire cheers as he folds the paper and passes it over. “Were once a time I’d be either right worried or darn proud of ya showin up once. Reckon yer dam’s gonna need a whole room just fer yer clippins ‘fore long.”

Cure doesn’t bother pausing his eating, instead floating the paper from his sire’s hoof and reading aloud. “Order in the Court! Prince Serpentus Bends Schedule to Meet His Needs. What the hay?!”

“Seems a bit more critical of ya than most articles,” Title comments. “What else does it say?”

“According to a confidential source, his highness did not approve of the time indicated on the subpoena for the upcoming Lady Willow Bush pretrial hearing. The clerk that served it was told politely, but sternly by his highness that the nine o’clock start time would interfere too much with his work day.”

He sets the paper aside and huffs in annoyance. “Convenient how it doesn’t say anything about the twenty or so ponies and their families that have traveled hundreds of kilometers to see me. Guess they would have just rescheduled because that stupid bint couldn’t keep her hooves to herself. Oh, wait!” he snarls, “You can’t reschedule ‘cause I’m booked ‘till damn near Nightmare Night! Friggin assholes!”

“Language!” his dam scolds, immediately softening her harsh look. “Even if I do agree, you shouldn’t use words like that with the twins around,” she insists motioning to the two between her and Deed. “I will be very unhappy if the first words out of their mouths is some kind of curse.”

He winces and gives the mare an apologetic look. “Sorry, dam. I’ll watch what I say around ‘em.”

“The article does mention your schedule,” Title notes, having grabbed the paper when he set it aside. “Prince Serpentus typically sees up to ten ponies an hour, spending as little as five minutes with each patient due to the outrageous demand for his services. ‘His highness is absolutely phenomenal,’ Baltimore General’s Chief Physician, Dr. Mending Care, replied in response to a request for comment.

“‘His dedication to the health and well-being of Equestria’s citizens is beyond reproach. It was a mistake on the part of whoever scheduled his testimony to come between him and his patients. We’re fortunate to have him as much as we do, so intruding on his availability like that makes absolutely no sense to me.’”

Amethyst nods in approval, silently lifting her coffee in a toast to the doctor. “Sounds like you got yerself a staunch ally in the doc, colt.”

“No doubt, ma. Anything else worth my time in there?”

“It’s a little mixed,” Title truthfully replies. “There’s some quotes from a few ponies that asked to remain anonymous questioning the wisdom of giving a foal so much authority. There’s several more singing your praises, but they’re not anonymous, of course. Seems to me somepony is trying to stir the pot a bit.”

“Ehh, objectively I don’t completely disagree with that argument,” he says. “I’m more surprised than anything, truthfully. I figured with the whole alicorn thing nopony would have the guts to say anything bad at all. For any typical foal my age I would probably be saying the same thing.” He tilts his head to the side and adds, “The protesters in Canterlot, though? That seemed a tad over the top.”

“You be sure to be on your best behavior today,” his dam firmly instructs. “Never forget the trust her majesty showed when she gave you that crown. You don’t want to disappoint her.”

“I know, I know. For the record, though, I think she would have crowned anypony that ascended. She’s said more than once that Harmony decided I was ready.”

“She may’a crowned, ‘em, champ, but that don’t mean she’d given ‘em real authority like she did you.”

Cure nods, conceding the point.

“Do you want one of us to come to court with you, honey?”

“I can,” Amethyst volunteers. “I don’t have nothin important today.”

“It’s up to you. It’s not exactly a ten minute flight for you like it is for me.”

“Somepony may notice you there,” Lemon suggests. “You’ll have to let him disguise you to be safe.”

“I appreciate it, ma, but really, I’ll be fine. I’m sure the prosecutor or judge will step in if her attorney gets out of line and, at the end of the day, there’s just not really a whole lot I can see going wrong.”

“Until now,” Title teases.

Cure rolls his eyes. “Yeah, yeah, I get it.” He waves his hoof airily and snarks, “Flag thrown and all that. Really, though, what could possibly happen that would be a legitimate problem? I outrank the judge. By a wide margin, even. The days of being afraid of nobles are gone. I’ve won. Short of the entire courtroom being a cult waiting to ambush me I think I can deal with whatever comes up.”

A moment passes. The parents all trade uneasy looks. He huffs and rolls his eyes again. “I very much doubt the court will be full of cultists lying in ambush.”

“Welllllll,” his sire starts, drawing the word out with faux pensiveness.

In a single fluid motion, Cure hops up on his hind legs, wings thrown wide to reveal two dozen softly glowing crystals lining their undersides. A cloud of fireflies launch from his mane an instant before a shield snaps into place around him. His coat gives way to golden scales, and his golden shoes fall off his forehooves to reveal wicked looking claws. All five parents duck and shout in alarm as he sinisterly chuckles. “There’s no way they’ve prepared for me as much as I’ve prepared for them.”

His sire chances a peek over the table, grumping as he sits up. “Dagnabit, colt! Don’t do that!”

Title shoots him a glare as she tries to get Savvy back under control. The little filly is bouncing in her seat, watching in glee as the fireflies swirl and spiral around her. The mare looks up at the flashing patterns and asks, “How the hay are you doing that?”

“They’re within range of my horn,” he says, gesturing up to the softly glowing protrusion. His features return to normal and the shield pops back out of existence. A single firefly lands on his sister’s snout, causing the girl to go crosseyed. She laughs and cheers as it does a little dance, shakes its lit up booty, then flies back to the colt and disappears into his mane with all the rest of the bugs.

His dam shoots to her hooves and points a furious hoof at her son, shouting, “Don’t do that again!”

“They were just fireflies, dam!”

She snaps back, growling, “I don’t care! No swarms of any bugs inside the house!”

Lemon and Title can’t help but snicker quietly at the chastised colt.

“Fiiine! No booze, no bugs, and no super weed. Yer no fun at all!” he pouts, forelegs folded across his barrel.

“You should sell some of that at your market stall,” Lemon suggests. Vines shoots her a betrayed look, prompting her to clarify, “Not booze or recreational drugs. I mean some kinda natural herb or vitamin for estrus coming up. It should be hitting right after that weekend, after all.”

“I could definitely make a ‘male vitality’ pill,” he says while miming air quotes, “but I’m not sure if that’s a good idea. I don’t wanna get sued when they’re too effective or if somepony has a heart attack.”

“Too effective?” Title echos, chuckling at the idea.

“Yeah… I haven’t come across the term for it y’all use, but priapism is when the lil guy just won’t go back ta sleep, ya know?”

“PES,” Deed instantly answers. “Persistent you-know-what state.”

“That can happen?!” she asks, shooting her husband a curious look. “Even after… you know?”

The other three mares do the same, causing Deed to squirm under their suddenly curious stares. “‘Course it can. Ain’t ya ever heard tha story ‘a The Proud Stallion?” Shrugs and no head shakes prompt him to continue. “Was an earth pony what thought he was a mare’s stallion. Sought out some zebra witch doctor fer a lil extra pep in his step, if ya know what I mean. She gave ‘em a brew, told ‘em only take a sip, so what’s he do?”

“Drinks half the bottle?” Cure guesses.

Deed scoffs. “Ain’t nopony that dumb, colt.” Cure very strongly disagrees but holds his tongue. “Nah, he tried taking two, and when that worked even better he took a third. Poor feller was smackin ‘emself in tha belly for a solid day ‘n a half ‘fore his mares went and fetched a doctor. Mussed somethin up enough there weren’t no potion ta fix him up again.”

“Huh. I’m assuming this is one of ‘ye olde tales’ and not a real, verified thing?”

Deed shrugs and nods, “Might be some ‘ol farm tale, colt. Stallions rumormonger much as mares do sometimes. Still, message were clear enough. Gotta watch with them potions, especially from a zebra.”

“Woah, woah, woah!” he calls in a raised voice. “That’s what everypony took from that?! That it was the zebra’s fault? He took more than he was told to, then didn’t go to the hospital after like… a couple hours, but it was the zebra’s fault?!”

“Reckon she shoulda warned ‘em what could’a happened,” Deed says, bobbing his head. “Suppose you could make somethin like that, just sell ‘em single use only. Some stallions’ll put up a few bits just ta try ‘em out, I bet.”

“I don’t think you should, honey,” Vines says. “That would be something maybe for Prince Serpentus to sell instead. When you’re older, and after they’ve been tested for safety,” she firmly insists.

“Yeah, you’re right. It’s a little too close to ‘Alicorn of Life’ territory, and probably not a good idea without a page-long warning. Also,” he points to his sire with a wingtip, “the real lesson from that story is to take your friggin medicine as prescribed. Blaming the doctor is bunk, and that doesn’t even get into the plethora of other issues with that story.”

“Suppose that’s kinda true,” Deed grants. “Ponies aren’t always tha most acceptin ‘a other creatures.”

“Clearly. I am going to sell my oil plants, but I don’t know how much of a customer base to expect, given the whole friggin town seemed to be unicorns. The only cloud district I saw was like… a block or two. Barely what we have here in Golden Hills,” he says, motioning vaguely to the northwest.

“No. They don’t have a big community there for some reason,” Lemon agrees. She heaves a sigh and slurps down the last of her coffee before setting her mug on the table. “I think we need to get going,” she says, looking to Cure and her employed spouses.

“Reckon so,” Deed agrees. “Now colt, if they do give ya a hard time don’t go lashin out at ‘em. If’n they’re tryin ta ruffle ya up that may be just what they want.”

“Don’t worry, pa. I’m not some kind of powder keg just waiting to blow,” he assures everypony. “If somepony gets under my coat that bad there’s plenty of other ways for me to get my revenge.”

“That… that’s not exactly reassurin, son,” his sire warily responds.

“No plotting revenge on anypony, Cure,” Vines sternly insists.

“Of course not, dam!” he all-too-eagerly agrees. “I would never do any harm to any of my little ponies! Wink.”

“You said wink out loud,” she points out.

He slowly waves his hoof from right to left between himself and his dam. “You didn’t hear anything at all,” then smiles broadly. “Wink.”

The mare exhales a tired sigh. “Just… behave.”

“I always do!”

Cure had barely finished with his patient and sent them on their way when he hears a stallion approach his nurse, voice full of anxiety. “We’re next? Can we go in now?”

“Give his highness just a moment, sir,” the mare replies. “He’s a young colt. It’s a miracle he can see ponies as quickly as he can.”

Spc. Twist’s head pokes around the corner to his open door and peeks in. “Need a cookie or anything, sir? I’d think transplants’d be a doozie, and they just brought up some snacks.”

“Mmm… tempting, but save me one for after my next patient. It’s a foal, right?” The unicorn doesn’t need to turn back to check, merely bobbing his head in a nod with a sullen look. “Don’t worry, Twist. When I’m done with him he’ll be right as rain. Go ahead and send ‘em on in whenever the nurse is done with them, alright?”

“Yes, sir! Just say the word if you need to sugar up, okay?”

“You bet dude. Thanks!”

With another quick nod he ducks out of the way and tells the nurse that his highness is ready. The file said the next patient is only four years old, the same as Cherry and Lotus, and Cure can’t help but think it’s a shame he’s not a couple years younger or he may not remember any of this. The sire, a deep blue pegasus, starts to walk in the room, pausing at the doorway wondering if he’s supposed to bow.

“Come on in. No need for formalities here,” Cure assures him. The stallion nods, then looks over his withers to call for his wives. One elects to stay in the lobby and entertain the rest of their foals while the other, a dark red, nearly maroon, hawk griffoness follows him in. Cure spots his patient looking around in wide-eyed wonder around his dam’s neck, first at the plants that line the west and north wall, then at the gold-clad alicorn, then at the illustrations of various creatures to his right.

“And this must be Wave Skipper, hmm?” Cure asks, perking up to project enthusiasm for the young colt. The young hippogriff got an honest mix of his parents; his coat is a slightly lighter shade of blue than his sire, but his mane and tail are the exact same deep red as his dam’s coat and plumage. That the foal shares half of Cure’s own name nets him bonus points in his book, even if he opts not to share that.

“That’s him!” the hen proudly declares. “My sweet little colt,” she coos, scooping him off her withers and turning to set him on the couch by his sire.

“If you could,” Cure interrupts, motioning to the couch behind himself, “that couch is where I treat my patients. You’re both welcome to join him, I just need the plant nearby, and maybe a little space.” The hen nods in acceptance, instead setting her colt on the couch by the north wall before climbing up and nuzzling his crown with the side of her beak.

The foal rolls to his barrel; a more difficult task than most would have due to his missing limbs. Diagnosed with a generic “birth defect,” he was born without a forelimb or hind leg and a small, deformed wing on his right side. “Are you a real prince?” he asks, voice full of awe and eyes locked on Cure’s crown.

“You bet I am,” Cure declares, pushing the door shut with levitation as he approaches the patient couch. “Princess Celestia even gave me the fanciest hat in the whole country ta prove it!”

“Wooowwww! It’s super shiny!”

“It sure is. The darn thing’s heavier than you’d think, too. Here, give it a feel,” he says, taking the crown off and offering it to the colt. Wave starts reaching out to take it in his left talons, pausing when Cure quickly insists, “but don’t put it on! If you put it on that means you have to stay here and work and I get to leave and go play.”

The young hippogriff eyes the crown warily, trying to decide whether it’s worth the risk. He finally shakes his head no, saying, “I won’t put it on! Promise!”

Cure narrows his eyes pretending to weigh the colt’s answer, then hesitantly passes it over. “Okay. If you’re super sure. That’s probably a good idea, ‘cause I have super boring work to do the rest of the day.” He leans in closer and stage whispers, “I have to go to court and get asked a bunch of questions, and it won’t be fun at all.” He lets his wings and tail sag and hangs his head in dejection. “It’s gonna stink so bad. I’ll probably be there for like EVER!” he melodramatically laments.

He finally passes the crown to the colt who almost drops it as soon as Cure lets go. The hen squawks in panic, nearly lunging as it’s caught in Cure’s aura. He shoots her a smirk and floats it to her son again, this time setting it on the couch by his side. With the colt busy ooh’ing and aww’ing over the crown and tracing the snake scales with his little talons, Cure looks between the parents.

“It’ll sound like a really dumb question, but I absolutely have to ask for confirmation: What exactly can I do for you all today?” The two glance at each other, both trying to figure out how to word their request. “I would assume we’re hoping for fully functional limbs, but, again… I have to ask before I do something somepony doesn’t want done.”

“That’s exactly right, highness,” the stallion replies. “Sorry,” he winces, rubbing at the back of his neck. “I wasn’t sure how to ask.”

“No, it’s fine,” Cure assures him, waving a wing in placation. “I mean, I guessed that, but it would be really, really awkward if you were like, ‘No, dummy, he has a sinus infection.’ or something like that. Especially if I just assumed and grew everything out before I asked.”

“Why would anycreature not ask for you to give him his wing and legs?” the hen asks, voice full of genuine confusion.

“Honestly? I don’t know. I’m certain that at some point, eventually, I’ll come across somecreature that insists they’re perfectly fine just the way the maker made them, ma’am. I’m not sure I want to get into the moral, ethical, or philosophical argument that would ensue from misunderstanding, if ya know what I mean.”

“Not… really?” she honestly answers, looking completely perplexed at the suggestion that somecreature would refuse treatment for what is clearly a disability. She shares a look with her husband who also shrugs in confusion.

“Well, for example, a scar,” Cure suggests. She stares uncomprehendingly. “One of the first ponies I ever healed was in the military and got in a scuffle with a tom. He got scratched up pretty good and lost some mobility in his foreleg, right?”

She doesn’t respond verbally, only nodding in understanding.

“I told him I could fix up the leg, and I did, but he said he wanted to keep the visible scars. Said mares dig the look. If I hadn’t asked, I would have probably healed him up completely. See what I mean?”

“I… guess?” she hesitantly responds. “But we want our little Skipper all fixed up if you can.”

Cure reflexively opens his mouth to retort that he doesn’t need “fixed” but stops himself at the last second. The hypersensitivity and rabid political correctness that Ed used to complain about doesn’t exist in this world, and it occurs to the colt that arguing that there’s nothing wrong with their foal that needs “fixed” is probably the wrong move.

Instead he simply nods his head and says, “You bet.” He turns to look at the colt who has not made any attempt to put the crown on his head, but is rubbing the underside of his beak around the textured scales, smiling as it catches on each edge that he passes over. “So how ‘bout it, Skipper? You ready to learn how to fly?”

“Dam said you could fix me,” he says, perking up at being addressed. “Can you?”

“I certainly can.” His horn lights up and he turns to look at his plant. His golden aura extracts a round globule of origin cells from a stalk and holds the faintly pink, slightly translucent orb in the air. “Hold out your foreleg first.”

The colt obliges, sticking the almost nonexistent stub of a foreleg out and watching as a small piece of the floating globe tears off. The three watch in wonder as it shrinks down in size, morphing into a perfectly formed foreleg; a mirror of the foal’s other. Just like a puzzle piece, Cure moves the new limb into position. He numbs the deformed stub and, with a quick application of his talent, fuses the two pieces together, holding the colt in his talent as blood begins circulating as normal.

“One down, two to go. How ‘bout your wing next?” The colt eagerly bobs his head in a frantic nod, extending the tiny nub of an appendage as much as he can.

Both parents fidget in nervous excitement, watching with rapt attention as the alicorn all but pieces their foal together, making him whole for the first time in his life.

When all three limbs are attached, Cure calls for them to wait just a moment, a decent portion of the origin cells still hovering in his aura. “Okay, so everything is where it should be, but we have a bit of a… Well, atrophy isn’t exactly the right word. Muscular deficiency, I suppose, issue that needs to be addressed before you’re all set. I’m going to pick you up, Skip. This may feel a little weird, so bear with me” he warns.

He gently lifts the foal in his aura, then floats the remainder of the glob of cells down, wrapping it around the young colt. The extra mass sinks into his body like he’s a sponge soaking up a spill. The foal looks himself over as his barrel, legs, chest, and neck fill out, giving him the musculature and physique that a typical foal his age should have.

“And there we go,” Cure says, nodding in approval as he sets the colt down. “One strong, healthy, able-bodied hippogriff colt with all the standard accessories, good as new.” He has to speak up to be heard; he no more than sits the young hippogriff down before his dam snatches the foal up, nuzzling him into her plumage as she trills soft, happy noises with tears streaming down her face.

A flap of his wings brings her husband over to join the pair as they all but squash their foal between them.

“Now don’t tell anypony, or anygriff, but since you’re my last patient of the day, it’s a Friday, and because you were so well behaved, I have somewhat of a little prize for ya if ya want it.” Cure has a Serpentus plush toy assemble itself out of sight in his plant.

Once it’s finished his horn glows gold and, in a small flash of light, it pops into the air within reach of the smaller colt. “Really?!”

“You betchya! Hopefully that won’t cause a fight with your siblings,” he half asks the parents who both shake their heads no. “Good!” He pulls the door open with his telekinesis and waves a wing. “Go on and show the rest of your family how you’re doing. I’m sure they’re curious, and I bet you owe somecreatures out there a few big, strong hugs.”

It takes more time than Cure would prefer to get the three out of his room. As much as he appreciates the family’s thanks, he would just assume they say it once and let him get on with his day. He recognizes the immense impact a few minutes of his time has and will have on the foal and their family, but after already being bombarded with thanks dozens of times today alone he just wants to move on.

As soon as they finally make their way out he makes his way to his patient couch, heaves himself atop it, and collapses on his barrel, wings laying limp and legs sprawled in all directions.

Spc. Twist’s head pokes around the doorframe. “Ready for that cookie, sir?”

“Yes, please. In fact, bring whatever’s left on the tray. And the coffee. The whole pot. Thank you kindly, good sir.”

“We’ll get some for the road, sir. The nurses just brought some lunch, too. Packed ya up a nice little meal.”

“Aww… that was nice of ‘em.” Cure instinctively rolls to his right, stopping on his back. He squirms and wiggles on the couch for a moment, his wings flat on the surface and legs flailing about. The specialist chuckles at the scene followed by the soft snickering of Spc. Strafe when she pokes her head around the corner too. He stretches his legs forwards and back, arching his back as much as he can while inhaling deeply, then blows out an explosive sigh as he relaxes back.

“Alright,” he says, rolling to his barrel, “let’s get moving.”

“Your, uhh,” Strafe begins, motioning to his mess of a mane and untidy wings. A shake of his neck, a single flap, and a quick application of his talent has everything back in immaculate order as he trots past the two. “So unfair,” she quietly groans.

“Not my fault I was born this beautiful, Strafe.”

“Whatever you say, sir.”

The pair fall in line with the colt as he makes his way around the nurse’s desk. His eyes land on the boxed lunch and the cookies the nurses had brought for him. He calls out his thanks as he levitates the lunch onto his withers and floats over a couple cookies, snacking on the pair as they head out the front of the hospital.

Sergeants Blackhoof and Glazer, Glazer’s two specialists, and a dozen local Baltimare guards stand at attention around his carriage awaiting him and his escorts. A throng of reporters stand to the right snapping picture after picture of the young alicorn and his royal carriage, but he pays no mind to the flashes or called out questions about the trial.

Sgt. Glazer’s horn ignites, pulling the door of his carriage open and unfolding the step-up.

“Thanks, sarge. We all set?” he asks as he approaches the open door.

“Yes, sir! Ready when you are.”

“Great!” He hops up in the carriage and calls back, “Twist, you’re with me. Let’s get a move on.”

The protective features added to the carriage are more-or-less what Cure had anticipated. The protective shielding is, allegedly, enough to withstand a coordinated attack from several mages. Upon failure of the shield, or if the occupant triggers it, an emergency Teleport should shunt the carriage, the occupants, and any ponies pulling it, assuming they’re alive, to a designated, secured location somewhere.

“So you’re saying that this whole thing will teleport itself just before the shields fail?”

“Yes, sir.”

“You can chill with the sir bit when we’re in private, specialist. Colt, Cure, or, if you must, Serpentus are all fine under the circumstances.”

“Sure thing, sir.”

Cure rolls his eyes. “You’re going to keep calling me sir, aren’t you?”

A smirk and a nod are the unicorn’s response.

“Meh, that’s fine,” he shrugs. “It’s part of the job. I get it. So two questions: Where does it teleport to and how hard is it for somepony to set up some kind of interdiction field?”

“No clue, and what the hay is an interdiction field, sir?”

“You know… a ‘no teleport’ zone. Something that would prevent that from firing off. You do realize that that’s exactly what will happen, right?”

Twist cocks a brow at his young charge. “Sir?”

“If this thing ever gets attacked then whoever is doin it will have planned for it to teleport. That’s how these things work, dude. You gotta have the teleporter, then when that fails ‘cause of some teleport blocker you need some kinda teleport blocker blocker.”

The unicorn chuckles and shakes his head. “Oh yeah? What if they have a teleport blocker blocker blocker, sir?”

“Those exist?!”

Twist cracks up, shaking his head no again. “I don’t think they do, sir. Blocking anypony from teleporting is not easy. You would need a prepared site set up in advance and a whole lot of power to interfere with the spell going off. Layin those wards takes a moment, and the pull on the ambient magic would be noticeable from a distance once activated.”

“Okay, that sounds pretty unlikely,” he voices in agreement. Chances of that exact scenario happening just went up to about one hundred percent. “So when it does teleport, where does it go? ‘Cause if I’m tryin to nail somepony and I can’t block the teleport, then I’m either going to try to redirect it or have a group there waiting.”

“Nopony knows but her majesty, sir.” Cure’s disbelief shows on his face. “No, really. She added that enchantment herself. Wherever it does teleport, it’s a secure location and the ponies assigned to guard it supposedly don’t even know what they’re guarding it for. Nopony is allowed to know.” He pauses to look out the window. “We’ll be there in a minute, by the way.

“So I’m guessin the princess would probably tell you if you asked, but nopony else should have any idea. As for redirecting the teleport?” His face scrunches in thought for a moment. “Maybe her highness would be able to pull it off if she were ready for it. I wouldn’t know the first thing ‘bout how to do that. It would be a whole lot easier to follow a teleport than it would be to stop or redirect one.

“Would still take a lot of talent and enough power to cover the distance. As for some kinda teleport blocker, uh, blocker? Wards can be overpowered if the caster is powerful enough.”

“So the teleport in this thing?” he leadingly asks.

“I wouldn’t wanna assume, but I don’t see her majesty skimping on something like this.”

“What about if the immobilizing enchantment is active? I’m assuming it still teleports, right?”

“Oh yeah, definitely. That only stops external forces.”

Both look to the door when the carriage comes to a stop. “Probably should have asked you what to expect while we were at it.”

“I don’t think it’ll be a big deal, sir. They know you’re a foal and they already talked to everypony else. I’m honestly surprised they need you at all.”

“What do you mean? I was right there the whole time.” The “clunk” of the step lowering precedes the door opening.

“Yeah,” he agrees with a shrug, “but so was the hospital’s chief physician.” With those departing words, the stallion steps out of the carriage, turns ninety degrees to his left, takes one full step forward, pivots a hundred and eighty degrees, stands at attention, and salutes.

Cure tucks his emptied lunch box under his wing, absorbing the paper and small bits of remaining food in the process. Just before stepping into visibility, he reabsorbs his flight suit, going completely naked, save his regalia, in public for the first time ever since his coronation. With no clothing and no atypical anatomical additions, he gives his coat another quick once-over with his talent, ensures he looks and smells like he just left the groomer, and steps out of the carriage with his head held high.

He nods to the sergeants standing in the middle of their respective teams; Alpha on his left, Bravo on his right. They turn at once and form up into a hexagon around the colt, giving just enough space for the reporters standing to the side of the court steps to get some good pictures of their beloved prince. The cameras all erupt at once when he looks in their direction and gives them a small smile, but neither he nor his escorts break stride ascending the stairs.

The short, blocky building lacks the distinctive columns Cure has come to expect from government facilities, though he would recognize the building as a municipal court by one feature alone; like so many other parallels to Earth, Lady Justice stands tall above the entry to the building.

Sat upon her haunches, the blindfolded alicorn holds a balance up high in her left hoof and an unsheathed sword in her right; a combined symbol for the pony tribes conveying the message that all are, in theory, equal before the law. Three large Equestrian flags drape down from poles at base of the statue, all flapping lazily in the winds blowing in from the Celestial Sea.

Cure briefly wonders if he and the other future alicorns will be added to the nation’s flag some day as the seven ponies march underneath, six sets of hooves shod in steel clanking in unison with a seventh tapping like a noisy clock’s second arm, slightly off-beat. Two of the Baltimare guards open the double doors ahead of them. Out of sight of the reporters, they close ranks to fit through as they march in.

Creatures in the offices that line the court building’s sides stand at attention and peer through their windows at the passing procession of six heavily armed guards pounding their way through the lobby. Cure spares a glance to his left, meeting the eyes of the messenger that delivered the subpoena on Monday. A small incline of his head is all he manages before losing sight of the stallion through Sgt. Blackhoof’s legs.

Apparently one of his pegasi know the way; they lead the group through the lobby, around a corner to the right, down another hallway, and then to the left where a smaller desk is mared by a single unicorn. She looks up, paling slightly at the wall of steel approaching before she catches the glint of gold from the shorter colt’s crown. A raised hoof points to an inconspicuous door to her right which is promptly gripped and pulled open by Sgt. Glazer’s telekinesis.

The room is shockingly small and not at all what Cure had expected. Only slightly larger than his office at the hospital, the courtroom, if that’s even the correct term, is barely more than a meeting room with two slightly raised seating areas; the judge’s bench in the center of the room and the witness stand to her left. The defendant and her attorney are sitting behind a small table in front and to the judge’s right while the prosecutor and, Cure assumes, her assistant are opposite the aisle on her left.

The seating area is just two rows of square, hoof-thick cushions separated from the prosecution and defense by a meter-tall wooden divider. All of the wood is a light cherry color and the walls are a near-white, giving the room a very bright feel despite the crampedness of the space.

Cure can only assume that the other witnesses have come and gone; the one still present is not anypony he recognizes. The earth pony mare looks to be in her late sixties with a deep brown coat slightly lighter than his sire’s. Her darker brown mane is graying, and she wears thick glasses, a light purple business suit that’s seen better days, and a string of white pearls around her neck.

The absence of anypony else makes the deployment of both sets of his Royal Guards feel like massive overkill.

All conversation halts and every head turns their direction as the procession enters the room. Cure nods to the seating on the right. Bravo takes up position on the inside of the door while Alpha sits in a triangle around the colt; the sergeant on his tail with Strafe and Twist on his left and right.

With everypony seated, and all other parties still staring in the young alicorn’s direction, Cure raises his right hoof and makes a “proceed” motion, granting permission for the court to resume whatever they had been doing before six steel-clad sentinels paraded through the door.

The middle-aged unicorn on the bench, Judge Suretrot according to the placard, peers over her glasses at Cure and his guards. Finally breaking the silence, she calls out in question, “Are we expecting an attack, your highness?” Her tone has a slight edge of mockery about it, which strikes the colt as an inordinately unprofessional way to make a first impression.

“I have asked that any would-be attackers submit a request for permission in advance, your honor,” he responds matter of factly. With a helpless shrug he continues, “Sadly, none have acquiesced thus far, forcing me to adopt the prudent pony’s approach.”

The response gives the mare pause for a moment before she makes a thoughtful noise. “I suppose one can never be too cautious.” She looks to the defense lawyer, a rather short gray pegasus stallion, and motions for him to continue.

“Thank you, your honor. Mrs. Duty, did either of Lady Bush and Mr. Flourish’s foals actually see, with their own eyes, any acts of harm visited upon the latter?”

“No, but -”

“No? You said they were aware of the alleged abuse, but they never witnessed any such thing. Am I understanding that correctly?”

“Even foals can figure out the result of two plus two, sir!”

“Perhaps, but we must look at facts, madam, and you just confirmed that they did not, in fact, witness my client striking her husband. I have no further questions, your honor.”

“Miss Cause?” the judge calls, looking to the prosecutor’s desk.

The prosecutor shakes her head no. “Nothing further, your honor.”

“Very well,” she nods, turning to the witness. “You may step down, Mrs. Duty. The court thanks you for your time.” As the mare steps out the back of the witness stand the judge waves to the prosecutor. “I believe your next witness is here.”

“Yes, your honor. If it pleases the court, the prosecution calls His Royal Highness, Prince Serpentus to testify.” She belatedly turns to Cure and ducks her head in a shallow nod, adding, “Please.”

Cure stands, igniting his horn to pull the swinging door open for the guardian ad litem and standing aside for her. She flashes him a grateful smile and bobs her head, greeting him with a quiet, “Your highness,” as she trots by.

“Ma’am,” he returns, waiting for her to pass before he trots around to the stand. The bailiff mare rushes over with a stool that he takes in his aura and positions before hopping up on it.

The judge speaks up to address him. “Your highness, could your highness please raise his right hoof?”

Cure cocks a brow, looks at his gold-clad hoof, and lifts it in the air. “Sure, but why?”

The innocent question gives the mare pause. Mouth slightly open, she blinks before saying, “It’s tradition when swearing an oath.”

“Really? The princess didn’t have me do that. Why the right hoof?”

“In ancient earth pony courts, ponies granted clemency would have the inside of their right fetlock marked,” she patiently explains. “If they appeared again then it would be visible, thus barring them from clemency again. It simply became tradition, even after the marking of criminals ceased.”

Not expecting an actual answer, Cure is surprised and genuinely appreciates that she took a moment to explain it. “Oh. Thanks!” Whether it was to secure his cooperation or from a legitimate desire to convey knowledge, the small concession abolishes his further plans to be a general pest.

Cure raises his right hoof as asked and volunteers, “I, Prince Serpentus of Equestria, do hereby swear to tell the truth, the whole truth, and nothing but the truth in response to questions and in my statements bearing relevance to the events leading to this hearing.”

He puts his hoof down and looks to the judge for approval.

“Not… exactly the standard oath, but I am satisfied.” She regards both attorneys, each of whom nods in acceptance as well.

The prosecutor, a cherry red unicorn with a black mane and matching suit, stands and approaches the bench. “First and foremost, thank you for taking the time to come today, your highness.”

“No problem. I know I was ‘asked,’” he mimes air quotes, “to be here at nine, but I literally had thirty ponies from all across the nation coming to see me today. I am not telling the dude from San Franciscolt that lost his foreleg trying to dig survivors out after an earthquake that he needs to reschedule.”

“Understandable,” she agrees. “In regards to the events of Friday, July thirty-first, please recount…”

The mare proceeds to question Cure, going through the events of the encounter with him, asking about the nature of the injuries he detected, the conversation with the victim, and his interaction with the mare afterwards. Aside from the results of his scan the questioning is brief, as if the mare is simply verifying what Dr. Care likely already covered.

“Does your highness typically treat injuries such as Mr. Flourish’s?”

“Not usually. Most of the ponies I see have something that is either difficult or impossible to otherwise treat.”

“But your highness was asked to see Mr. Flourish immediately upon arrival, correct?”

“Yes.”

“Why?”

The defense stands, saying, “Speculation, your honor.”

The judge nods and turns to Cure, asking, “Were you told why you were being asked to see somepony with, relatively speaking, a minor injury?”

He hadn’t expected the judge to ask him questions like that. The look of confusion prompts her to explain, “Pretrial hearings are different from trials, your highness. Less formal.”

“Oh. Okay. I was told that Mr. Flourish has suffered injuries like this in the past and Dr. Care was concerned how those injuries were occurring.”

The prosecutor continues her questioning. “She was not able to determine the cause?”

“She stated that the hospital staff was never able to get an answer regarding how he was being injured. She said Lady Bush prevented them from speaking to her husband alone.”

“But you were?”

“He did not directly tell me. Indirectly, yes, but not directly. I was able to separate the defendant from her husband so that he could give an honest statement to the authorities. Specialist Twist,” he nods towards the unicorn, “was present when he gave his statement to the guard unit that was summoned. I learned from him later in the day that Mr. Flourish indicated his wife kicked him.”

The defense calls out, “Hearsay, your honor.”

“I disagree, Mr. Clout. A royal guard reporting to his highness is not hearsay.”

The stallion cringes and shallowly nods before sitting back down.

With all of her questions answered, the prosecutor turns to the judge. “No further questions at this time, your honor.”

She nods and looks to the defense. “Proceed, Mr. Clout. And I very strongly recommend you measure your questions carefully, or I will intervene immediately.”

“Of course, your honor.” The stallion stands and approaches Cure, bowing slightly before beginning his questioning. “The injuries that Mr. Flourish suffered. Could your highness please repeat them for the court?”

Cure can only assume the stallion is hoping he will forget or omit something, otherwise it doesn’t seem like a question the defense would pose. It seems like a valid tactic when dealing with a typical foal, but a grave mistake given Cure’s talent.

“Sure. It would be easier to explain if using Illusions is permissible,” he suggests, looking to the judge for her okay.

“No, that’s not necessary,” he quickly denies.

“Your honor!” the prosecutor shoots to her hooves. “I would very much like to see those Illusions, if the court permits.”

“With all due respect,” the defense retorts, “we have no means of verifying that the illusory images would be accurate. A simple description is all I’m asking.”

“They’d be flawlessly reproduced,” he argues. “My memory is perfect.”

“Again, with all due respect, your highness, nopony’s memory is perfect.”

“No, you don’t understand. My memory is perfect. Not good or great; literally perfect.”

“Your honor?” the prosecutor calls, voice full of hope while she nearly dances on her hooves like a foal on Hearth’s Warming Eve.

Judge Suretrot gives Cure a long, considering look. “Perfect is a rather high bar, your highness. Is that indeed the case?”

“Yes, your honor. I can, with clarity down to the cellular level, perfectly recall every single scan all the way back to a few minutes after I discovered my special talent and healed my sire’s shoulder. I could demonstrate that with Mr. Flourish’s scan, any of the hundreds of creatures I’ve healed while working, the many thousands of mares and foals I’ve helped during the birthing seasons I’ve worked, uncountable plants, animals, bugs, single-cell organisms, so forth and so on.”

The whole time Cure describes his ability the defense attorney’s wings droop more and more. “I withdraw the question, your honor.”

“Very well. Proceed with your questioning.”

“Yes, your honor. Your highness, in regards to the injuries, you stated you could not conclusively say who caused these injuries. Is that correct?”

“That is correct.”

“Thank you. No further questions.” Despite the final statement being somewhat to her favor, Lady Bush doesn’t hesitate to lay into the stallion in growled whispers as soon as his rump hits the cushion beside her.

“Miss Cause?” the judge questions when the prosecutor nearly dives around her desk.

“I would ask that his highness show us the injuries he witnessed on the morning in question! Please!”

“Your honor never said; are Illusions okay or do you want a physical reproduction?”

“I’m sorry,” she asks, “physical reproduction?”

“May I demonstrate?”

“I find myself curious, your highness. Please proceed,” she nods to the defense attorney who stood to speak up, “though I’ll caution that your demonstration may not qualify as actual evidence.” The attorney nods in thanks and returns to his seat.

“Sure, I understand. One second, please.” He reaches under his left wing and slowly extracts a full-sized replica of the stallion’s left foreleg from the shoulder all the way down to the hoof, exactly as it was when he initially scanned him that morning. Absolute silence descends on the room as everypony stares in stunned shock at the unexpected display.

“See, right here,” he points with his free hoof, “is the visible abrasion, but the damage goes much deeper, all the way down to the bone, in fact. If we look under the skin,” he begins peeling off layers like a banana, folding the flesh and coat down over the hoof in strips to reveal the damaged muscle tissue, “then it’s visibly obvious that the impact was significant enough to propagate damage through several layers.

“You can see the contrast between healthy muscle tissue here,” he points higher, “compared to the injury site. Also, note the distinct curve of the abrasion here. Now, I realize it’s difficult to see since you’re looking at a single layer at a time, but my talent makes reproducing the size and shape of the instrument used to inflict the injury mere foal’s play.”

He continues peeling layers back until he reaches the cannon bone, showing the fracture inflicted on Mr. Flourish’s leg. “As you can see, the impact was significant enough to reach all the way to the bone; a not-insignificant feat given that Mr. Flourish is, otherwise, a healthy earth pony stallion. I don’t need to tell anypony here how difficult we…” he pauses, snout scrunched momentarily, “Well, they, now, I suppose, are to hurt like this.”

He pauses to reach under his wing again, this time extracting a model hoof. He levitates his golden shoe off his right forehoof and places the model on it as he continues, “More than that, with my ability to scan an injury, reproduce the instrument used, reproduce the uninjured limb, and heal the limb after inflicting an injury, determining the angle and the strength of the impact is only a matter of trial and error, which I already performed. Observe.”

Cure promptly heals the leg, replacing the layers of skin after he shows the court that the injury is mended. Without waiting for permission, he levitates the limb in his aura just in front of the witness box, sits up, puts his left hoof on the podium surface in front of him, winds up his right, and kicks with the model hoof against the hovering leg. The loud “thud” that sounds out garners winces from everypony in the room.

The judge and prosecutor glance in Lady Bush’s direction briefly to gauge her reaction. To her credit, she does look ashamed to Cure’s eyes, but he has no idea if that’s from being semi-publicly revealed or if she genuinely regrets her actions.

As he once again strips the layers off to reveal a nearly identical injury to the bone, Cure continues, “Granted this injury was just inflicted, whereas I did not see Mr. Flourish until the morning after the incident, but as you can see,” he points to the fractured bone, “the damage to the bone is nearly identical.

“I want to be clear so there’s no confusion; I cannot say with absolute certainty that the defendant is responsible for inflicting the injury, but I would note that,” he floats the model off his hoof for everypony to get a good look at, “the size and shape of the hoof is exactly what you would expect from an earth pony mare.”

“I object, your honor,” the defense calls, standing as he does. “We have no way of verifying if that substantial of an impact is required to cause the described injury. With all due respect to his highness, he is an alicorn, not an earth pony. It stands to reason that a greater amount of force would be required to damage anything he creates.”

The judge nods in understanding. She turns to Cure and asks, “Is your highness aware as to whether or not his creations have an inherent toughness beyond that of a typical pony?”

He shakes his head no, explaining, “I cannot say one way or another, and I think both the princess, and more importantly, my parents, would be extremely unhappy if I conducted the tests necessary to determine that.” A few slight smiles are all he earns for the jest.

“Understood. Thank you.”

“Sure thing.”

“Miss Cause?” she calls, turning to the prosecutor and waving for her to continue.

“Yes, ma’am. Your highness,” she begins, “can you estimate approximately when the injury occurred?”

The defense leaps to his hooves again, calling out, “I must voice my objection, your honor! While his highness’s skill with healing is unquestionable, that does not, by itself, convey the necessary medical knowledge to make such a determination.” He softens his gaze as he turns to Cure and adds, “Unless your highness is the youngest medical doctor to graduate, perhaps?”

The judge cocks a brow at Cure and, as before, he shakes his head no. “I do not have a medical degree, or any degree for that matter. I have seen other injuries from impacts, their effects, and have been told how many hours prior they occurred for comparison. I can estimate based on the soft tissue damage, but Dr. Care, hopefully, would have been able to give a better response.”

“Question withdrawn, your honor,” the prosecutor defers. “How many earth pony stallions with a fractured cannon has his highness treated?”

“Mr. Flourish was only my second earth pony stallion.”

“How many other similar injuries has his highness treated, then?”

“Sixty eight.”

“And how many were earth ponies?”

“Only seventeen. You’d think that living in a predominantly earth pony town I would see more, but we… they’re harder to bruise than the other tribes. That doesn’t matter as much as you’d think once the bruising occurs, though. A bruise is a bruise, and skeletal damage is pretty similar for everypony once it happens. Earth ponies do heal about thirty percent faster than the other tribes.”

“Thank you, your highness!” she chirps. “No further questions, your honor.”

Judge Suretrot nods and glances in the defense’s way. Mr. Clout shakes his head no. “Nothing further, your honor.”

“Very well. I once again thank his highness for his time. The court respectfully asks that he step down.”

While the Sound Bubble blocks the clomps of her hooves, Cure’s nose tells him that Wind Shear just arrived at the top of the stairs to collect her weekly payout. Though it’s been a slower week for the girl that doesn’t mean she’s making an insubstantial amount, especially for a foal working, essentially, her first job ever.

His last customers give the filly a brief glance as they make their way by, likely making assumptions regarding her presence in the young colt’s workplace. Cure follows them out, wishes them a pleasant weekend, and promptly climbs on the couch to join the older girl, nosing at her wing a few times until she finally lifts it for him to flop against her side.

Soft downy blanket in place, he nuzzles up against her right foreleg, grinding the top of his muzzle against her elbow.

“That bad?” she asks, caught somewhat off guard from the insistence for physical comfort.

“Not really. It’s just another thing. I guess I was a little anxious over the whole ‘I have to go to court’ thing, but it wasn’t that big of a deal once I got there. It wasn’t like I expected.”

She climbs half on his right side and looks down on him. “How so?”

“Better, in a lot of ways, honestly. I figured it would be a big courtroom, lots of members of the public, reporters. You know… the works. Instead, it was just a little hearing room with three lawyers, a judge, the defendant, and me and my escort. Think of a courtroom scaled down to the smallest possible size that can accommodate that many bodies and you more or less have the picture.”

“Doesn’t sound too bad.”

“I know. Just… tiring. And I get the feeling this kinda crap is going to happen a lot in my career, unfortunately.”

“Sucks to be you,” she sarcastically quips.

“Yeah, it’s a rough life. Somepony has to do it.”

“Uh huh. I saw your carriage pass by while I was out. Looked like you had twenty guards with you.”

“Protocol,” he answers with a shrug. “I coulda flown there invisible in under a minute, but… what are ya gonna do?” He inhales and blows out a deep sigh. “Would you wanna ride in it someday?”

She tilts her head side to side and shrugs. “I dunno. Maybe. It would be neat to see, I guess. Daddy and sissy said it’s pretty fancy.”

He nods in agreement. “Maybe next time I have to take it out I’ll cruise over and pick ya up. Give ya a ride around town. Then you can tell the papers how much you enjoyed yourself in his highness’s company.”

She narrows her eyes at the colt, unsure whether that was innuendo or an innocent comment. “What if I don’t enjoy the ride at all?”

He scoffs, answering, “Please. As far as carriage rides you can’t get any better. Best of the best. One you’ll remember for the rest of your life. All the other fillies will be super jealous, too. School starts back up in a couple weeks. Don’t pretend you wouldn’t brag about your encounter with his highness to all the other girls in your classes. It may even help your career, ya know?”

“Glad you brought that up. We met with that agent on Wednesday.”

“Oh? How’d it go?”

She smiles broadly and thrusts her chest out. “She said I’m perfect! They have an advertising campaign starting soon for some fancy jewelry store, and they want me to model some of their pieces! The pay… isn’t very much,” she deflates slightly at the admission, “but she promised that’s just how it works when you’re new.”

Cure shrugs underneath the girl and bobs his head in understanding. “Dunno. Sounds plausible. You do realize that looks are only like… a small percent of modeling, right?”

“What do you know about it?” she retorts.

“Very, very little. I think it’s a lot like acting, though. You gotta be able to play the role. No idea what the role would be, but I’m guessing you gotta be able to project confidence, poise, or whatever,” he suggests, shrugging again. “Not like I’ve ever modeled.” He pauses in thought for a moment and turns to look up at her. “Let me know how it goes. If the money’s good maybe I could give it a whirl.”

She gives him a considering look for a moment before eventually nodding. “Maybe. If you can look however they want…” she trails off, waving her wing idly.

“Right. Dunno if they pay enough to be worth my time, but if so? Why not? Maybe we can be a team.”

“A team?”

“Sure! I bet for a lot of those ads they’ll have you posing with other ponies. Why not have it be with somepony you know?”

“I guess.”

“You know what would be even better?”

“Hm?”

“Twins!” he declares, his voice suddenly a perfect match for her own. The filly blinks in confusion, hopping away from the colt as his colors bleed to white and gold. He rolls to his barrel and hops off the couch, suddenly matching wings fluffing up as he lands. His barrel thins, legs lengthen, and face rearranges itself as he takes a couple steps away before turning back.

Wind catches sight of one detail in particular that leaves her absolutely gaping. Cure strikes a pose with his wings spread and right forehoof held delicately off the ground, declaring, “Just call me Thermal Inversion!”

“CURE!”

The ~~colt~~ filly giggles in her voice as ~~he~~ she turns around and innocently asks, “What’s wrong, sissy?”

“Tell me, for the love of the maker, that you don’t have my vagina!”

“Well we’re twins, so…” he teases, her eyes widening comically before he cracks up. “No, you goof. It’s only surface level. No internal plumbing!” he/she insists, twisting so his tail-covered rear is facing in her direction. “If you don’t believe me…” he trails off, waggling his brows suggestively.

“Oh. My. STARS! What is wrong with you?!”

“Why, what ever do you mean, Windy?” the ex-colt sincerely asks as he saunters back to the couch.

Wind reflexively backs away, her rump pressed against the wall as he flaps his wings once and hops on the couch. Cure pauses, cocking a brow at the filly when his nose catches the unmistakable scent of anxiety. He stops dead and, in his own voice, asks her, “Why are you acting like I’m going to do something to you?”

“SERIOUSLY?!” she shouts, waving at him as a whole.

“What? I look like you. So? It’s not like I’m going to friggin eat you or something. I take very good care of my minions, I’ll have you know.”

“I’m not your minion!” the filly heatedly retorts.

“Minion, employee, tomato, to-mah-to. Whatever,” he shrugs her wings. “That still doesn’t explain all this,” he waves to her, her back still pressed against the wall. “Do you really think I would ever do you or any of the others any actual harm?”

Her snout scrunches but, much to his relief, the tension disappears from her posture and she shakes her head no. “It’s just weird. Like… really, really weird. How would you feel if you saw somepony that looks and sounds exactly like you?”

“Very curious if I saw them change. Probably less amused if they suddenly approached me out of the blue,” he confesses, his thoughts drifting to a changeling infiltrator.

“Well, I’m sorry if I, for whatever reason, scared you, Wind.” He leans in for a nuzzle that she doesn’t shy away from. “Truthfully, the whole twins thing would be a huge money-maker, I bet, but it’s not like I could commit to that given my schedule. I really didn’t expect you to freak out… I mean, you’ve seen me do stuff like this,” he flares his wings, changing his coat to the deep royal blue and golden macaw colors he showed the herd before, “plenty of times.”

“You. Gave. Yourself. A. Vah. Gine. Ah!” she exclaims, posture shifting forwards into a more aggressive stance. “It’s not the same!”

“Yeah, but I kept my balls, too!” he defensively declares, looking down to verify the boys are still hanging out.

The filly’s eyes automatically follow his gaze and, just as she looks down, his head whips up to meet her eyes with a smug looking smirk crossing his muzzle. Caught red-hoofed, the filly’s coat ignites in a blush as she averts her gaze. The sound of his chuckling washes away the embarrassment, replacing it with annoyance instead.

Without warning, the filly dives on the colt from only a few hooves away. Cure, in his infinite mercy, allows the older girl to bowl him over off the couch, landing on the floor with her hooves pinning his forelegs down. He has to struggle not to laugh even harder at the position they end up in; he on his back with his hind legs trailing behind them, her straddling his prone form much as a lover would before copulation. He chooses not to point that out, instead giving the girl a small victory.

“Haven’t we done this before?” he instead asks the girl, tone completely unbothered.

She snorts and shakes her head, stepping off of him to her left. “You’re lucky you pay so well. Speaking of which,” she holds out her hoof in a beckoning motion, “pay up. I can’t deal with you any more today.”

He gives her an exaggerated pout. “Sometimes I feel like you’re only with me for my money.”

“Damn right, so gimme!”

“Fine,” he huffs. A silk bag of jingling bits flashes into existence right before the filly’s hoof. She looks at the colt’s hornless head in confusion, then looks around the room for the source. “I’m laying on my plant, dummy. I don’t need a horn on my head to use magic.”

Her eyes drift down to the carpet under her hooves, realization dawning a moment later. “The… whole floor?!”

“Duh?”

She snatches the bag out of the air and tucks it into her wallet strapped to her foreleg. “Whatever. I’m out of here. Later, doofus,” she grumbles, disappearing in flash.

Shortly after dinner

The pod splits open and Cure stands, taking in his new form.

Much like the body he had shown the unicorns last weekend, the one he’s in now comes in at a dozen hooves; every bit as tall as a typical earth pony stallion, or roughly the same height as Prince Blueblood. Unlike the other royal, there’s no extra fat to be found on this body; while it doesn’t have the thickness a strong earth pony has, it falls somewhere in the middle, looking much like a middle foal between the two tribes.

Taking inspiration from Onyx Mark, Cure had gone with a dark ebony coat and a nearly metallic silver for his mane and tail, the former spiked up and parted to his left behind his majestic horn.

With one foreleg raised, the disguised colt meets his mother’s eyes and poses like a prancing pony. In a smooth, deep voice he asks, “How do I look?”

“You look good. For a unicorn, I suppose.”

Cure cocks a single brow. “For a unicorn?”

Title shrugs and says, “Unicorns never really did it for me. Most of them are too…” her muzzle scrunches as she looks for the right word, “mareish, I guess. Even before your sire started working out, at least he had a pretty good build. Now?” The chuckle that escapes the mare can only be called lecherous. She licks her chops and loudly smacks her lips before continuing, “Now he’s downright delicious.”

The initial reaction of disgust passes in an instant, leaving the colt reluctantly nodding. “Yeah, I guess he does clean up pretty well nowadays.”

“Darn right. That aside, your dam is going to lose her mind when she sees you.”

“Which is why I was gonna sneak out, duh.”

“You really shouldn’t do that, honey. You don’t want to hurt her feelings, and her nine year old son sneaking out without telling her because he thinks he doesn’t have to will do exactly that. You always go out of your way to reassure her you care… well,” she finishes, waving to the young stallion.

The colt lets out a whiny groan and sinks down to the floor, chin resting between his forehooves. He flicks his tail to the right and pins his ears back, crying, “But she’ll say no!”

“Mmmyep,” she nods, popping the p at the end. “At least, she probably will. She doesn’t complain about you flying to practice anymore. Maybe she’ll be okay with you going to spend the evening with your friend before he leaves.”

“Ehhh… I don’t see it. Wait!” the colt hops to his hooves and cocks a grin. “I’ve got an idea!”

“Okay…”

Hoof pointing to the mare’s chest, he suggests, “How about you come with me. Or dam herself, but I don’t really see that. Or Lemon or Amy, I guess. How bout it, ma? Wanna go hit the town with me and maybe stalk a certain unicorn?”

“No, Cure,” she firmly refuses. “We’re not going to go to Baltimare just to follow your friend around like a couple ‘a weirdos. Why would you even want to?”

“It sounds like fun?”

“What part of that sounds fun? What, exactly, were you planning on doing? Drinking?”

“I might have one or two. It’s not like I’d let myself get drunk.”

“You actually like the flavor?”

“Of some drinks,” he nods. “Mostly the fruity, girly ones like rum runners and piña coladas. Some whiskey drinks were pretty good. Old fashioned, whiskey sour, maybe a highball or, on a cold winter’s night, a hot toddy.”

“Those aren’t considered girly here, Cure.”

The colt shrugs dismissively and says, “Cool. It wouldn’t have stopped me from getting them if they were. I never really understood the whole ‘acquired taste’ thing.”

“I dunno, there’s a few things I didn’t like at first but kinda grew on me. Brandy, for one. The first time I tried it I sprayed it all over the table.”

“Three wise men!” the colt explains, bouncing to his hooves. “Ed did the exact same thing the first time he tried a shot. I forget what’s in it - three whiskeys… Jim, Jack, and…” he shrugs, “no clue - but I distinctly remember him aerosolizing that shit the instant the flavor registered.”

“Sounds about right. So not necessarily planning on drinking. What, then?”

“Dunno. Dancing?”

“With who?”

“I dunno,” he repeats. “I figured I’d find somepony there.”

“Then what?”

“Dance?” he answers with another shrug.

She rolls her eyes. “We established that, dummy. You find a pretty mare and dance with her, maybe buy a couple drinks. All while covertly following Solar and his friends. What then?”

“I guess, maybe…” he drifts off, snout scrunched in thought. “I dunno. Worm my way into their group somehow?”

“And what about whoever you’re using to blend in? The whole reason most mares go to places like that is to find a stallion.”

“I guess it would be a little shitty to use a girl like that,” he concedes.

“A little,” she agrees.

“I’d be obligated to at least show her a good time before bailing.”

“I really, really hope you’re joking.”

“I am.”

“Good, because I can probably come up with a dozen or more reasons why that would be even worse.”

With a scoff he argues, “Yeah, ‘cause I’d totally let them know who I am.”

“No, but eventually I bet the subject of your experiences will be questioned by your fillyfriends. Shit like that tends to come out eventually.”

Cure rolls his eyes as hard as he can. “I know, mom. I can’t even fathom how, at my age, to explain that I’m not a virgin. I bet even Celestia would probably give me the big, sad, disappointed face, not to mention dam’s reaction.”

“Good. I’m glad you’re at least thinking that far ahead. So your plan was, basically, follow Solar and his group, find some poor, lonely mare to lead along, who you would later ditch, presumably,” Cure winces as she continues, “then… what? Just walk up to them and be like, ‘Hey you all seem cool and even though you’re obviously all out to celebrate, do you mind if I, some random unicorn-earth pony hybrid, join you this evening?’” She stares expectantly while he shuffles his hooves uncertainly.

“I guess I didn’t really think of that. Things usually work out, so I kinda figured they would, ya know,” he waves vaguely at nothing, “do that. Somehow.”

“That’s a really good plan, Cure,” she sarcastically quips.

“Look, all of that could be sidestepped if you just went with me. He’d know who I am unless I disguised you too, but I don’t see what the problem there is.”

“The problem is that I’m like… nine years older than him. He’s not going to want to hang out with me, especially if he’s going out with his friends. That’s not even factoring how weird it would be to just show up unexpectedly.”

“He went out with all of you just a couple weeks ago, and you’re all younger than any of the other parents by, like, almost the same amount!”

“Without his friends,” she argues back. “We went out as a big group. It was as much a family thing as it was a ‘go out and knock back some with your friends’ thing and you know it. How many times has Solar shown up on the front door askin if me or your dam or sire can come hang out, hmm?”

The colt grumbles and stamps his hooves. “But… but… mommmm!” he petulantly whines.

“Listen to yourself!” she laughs, throwing both forehooves in his direction. “Even with that voice you sound like an actual foal!” She does a poor job mimicking his normal voice and sneers, “In a way, I’m twice as old as you are!” then shoots him a smug, mocking grin.

Cure pouts even harder.

“You know,” she starts, “this would almost be adorable if it weren’t for the whininess. You always… almost always… behave like an adult. A bit of a brat, I’ll grant, but still. To see you like this, especially in an adult-sized body, is actually kind of amusing.”

Cure huffs and turns away.

“Are you gonna get out of that thing? They’re probably starting to wonder what the hay we’re doing in here.” She cringes, nearly to the point of retching. “Wow, that did not come out how I meant it.”

“Gross, mom.”

“Eh, hoof in my mouth. It happens.”

“Well if I can’t go hang out with Solar and crash his party, how bout we do something else fun?”

“As much as I’d love to raise some Tartarus with ya, how bout you take your dam and Amy out instead? Me and Lemon don’t get to spend as much time with the foals as they do, and I got a hankerin for some snuggle time with the babies.”

Cure, still lying on the ground, gives the mare the most pathetic pitiable big doe eyes he can muster. “I thought I was your baby, too,” he softly says.

The mare recoils, both hooves flying to her chest as she nearly flops on her side. “Foul! No fair!”

Cure sniffles and turns away, idly pawing at the floor. “I get it. Savvy, Blaze, and Goldie are the babies now. I’m just old, chopped hay. Yesterday's news. Nopony wuvs me.”

“Oh shut up. Now are you gonna get out of that thing or what?”

“Nah, I think I’ll just make it more ‘me,’ ya know? Add my muscles and wings on. I need a bit more mass for it, though.”

“That’s not exact-” the mare freezes when a thick vine shoots out from the floor and plunges up, directly under the colt’s tail. He stares unflinchingly at the mare, fighting back a smirk at the way her face contorts in horror. “What. The. Fuck, Cure?!”

“What?” he innocently asks.

“Did you just… ram that thing up your tailhole?!”

“Not really. It’s not like it’s actually my butthole. Gotta pump in mass somewhere, ya know.”

“Do I really need to explain why that was a little odd?! Are you seriously that detached from what normal is?!”

“I mean… if the suit actually used that area for anything, then yeah, that would have been a little odd. Right now it’s just a spot to hook up to the plant. Here,” he says, pausing as the vine violently retracts, eliciting a wince from his mother before snaking around him and, after splitting in two, spears into his ear holes, “better?”

She backs until her rump is against the door. “No. That’s not better. Not even remotely.”

“Fine!” The vines withdraw again, instead arching forward around the front of his face and plunging into his nostrils. “How ‘bout now?”

“I feel like you should have washed those first, even before going in your ears.”

“They’re beyond medical-grade sterile, ma. My entire plant is cleaner than an operating room’s table. It’s not like there’s ever been poop in this body.”

“No, but there’s a big turd in the middle!” she proudly cackles, slapping the floor with a hoof.

“Weak. Alright, I’m going to grow this thing up a little for reals.”

“For reals?”

“You don’t really think I needed to shove a vine up my own ass to make this thing bigger, did you?”

“I know you don’t. I figured you were just messing with me.”

“Yeah, more or less.”

“Or you were into that kinda thing,” she suggests with a shrug. “I ain’t one to judge. Too harshly, at least.”

“I think I’ve made my policy on that particular orifice pretty clear, ma.”

“Right, right. Exit only.”

“Exactly.”

“Except when you’re talking about huge plant tentacles, apparently.”

“I believe the proper term at that point would be consenticles, ma.”

“I don’t particularly care what you want to call them, just keep ‘em away from me.”

“Quit making it weird, ma.”

“I ain’t the one shovin things where they don’t belong. Why are you even bothering with that suit anyhow? You’re not going anywhere and it’s just going to confuse the other foals.”

That gives the colt pause. He hadn’t considered the impact a suddenly much larger version of himself would have on the others. Cherry and Lotus know enough that they would understand, at least to a degree, what is going on. Savvy, on the other hoof, is at the age where she’s aware enough of others, but not old enough, to understand why her big brother is suddenly adult-sized then small again the next day.

“God damnit. This whole fuckin thing has been a total waste, hasn’t it?”

“Pretty much.”

“Well,” he sighs, “I guess we can see what everypony else is up to, then. One sec.”

Title watches impassively as her son wraps his body in a tangle of leafy vines. The vines merge together into a shell which then splits open, letting the young alicorn step out like he’s simply walking from one room to another. “What a fucking disappointment,” he grumps, igniting his horn to unseal the door before leading her outside.

The pair find the rest of his family, minus his sire, at the front door, apparently waiting for them. Cure cocks a brow and trots up to his dam, turning to press against her side, careful not to lean hard enough to jostle the twins on her back. “You all going somewhere?”

“We’re taking the foals to the pond, sweetie.” She surveys her son and wife, looking the pair over in confusion. “I thought you were doing something in your room. Were you working on your plant again?”

“Nah,” Title answers, “he was all gussied up and planning on being a moron. I was able to talk him out of it.”

Cure shoots his mom a scowl and leans harder on his dam’s side. “Was gonna go hang out with Solar,” he mulishly admits. “Him ‘n his friends are going to be out in Baltimare tonight. I was just gonna go see if I could join in.”

Amethyst snorts a laugh and bumps Lemon’s side. “Told ya he would try somethin.”

Brows furrowed, Vines looks between the two. “Let me guess,” she starts, nearly sighing, “you were going to put on some kind of crazy disguise and hunt him down while pretending to be somepony else.”

His ears fold back and he looks away; a silent confirmation of the mare’s deduction’s accuracy. Title chuckles at the pathetic look of defeat.

“And how would he introduce you to the others, hmm?”

“I dunno,” he bashfully admits. “Wasn’t really sure. Didn’t even plan on telling him.”

“Oh, honey,” she says, wrapping a foreleg around his barrel. She lifts his front and pulls him close against her chest, squeezing him tight. “I know you want to be able to go out and do whatever you want, but following ponies around? Showing up where you’re not invited?”

“I was just gonna maybe buy them some drinks or whatever.” Snuggling a cheek into her chest, he says, “Keep an eye on ‘em. You know, keep an eye on the carriage ‘n make sure everypony gets home alright.”

The memory of the police calling surfaces unbidden. Breakfast hastily left uncooked, uneaten. A manic mother, sobbing sister, and the crushing regret of opportunities lost weighing him down as he drove everypony… everyone to the police station.

His dam’s embrace tightens, calming him and chasing away the painful memories.

“Solar’s a guard, babe,” he mother points out. “He may not be rich, but he also lives at home. He can easily afford his own drinks, and I don’t think there’s any reason to worry about his safety with your great grandsire’s ponies watching him. It’s Baltimare, not Chicoltgo. Besides, he doesn’t put me in mind of somepony that’ll get completely hammered.”

“Yeah, I guess,” he sighs. “Alright. Mind if I tag along, then? I wouldn’t mind a swim.”

Author's Note

Note - I am not a lawyer. Nor have I, thankfully, ever had to appear in felony court, and I was unwilling to spend any more time than I did (which was not an insignificant amount) trying to determine exactly what does happen at a pretrial hearing. If it's not very accurate? Meh, good 'nuf. He definitely did a few things that I don't think would fly during a real trial, but who knows? Being a foal and royalty he may get away with a little, or perhaps a lot, more than many would. He's definitely not a good pony to have testifying against you either way.

So Cure evidently didn't learn his lesson very well after the whole Solar clone bit. Some messages apparently need hammered into one's head a few times before they stick. Hopefully he'll have learned not to do this after seeing Wind's reaction. His mom? He has no qualms about messing with her.

Oh well, maybe he'll learn some day. Maybe...

As always, thanks for reading, rating, and especially comments.

Enjoy!

Chapter 97: Common and Superior Senses Slay Opposition

Saturday, August 22nd, 909 AB (the next morning)

The warm summer night’s air tickles at his coat as he soars through the air a couple kilometers above the ground. The view on clear nights is amazing, and the colt silently gives a small thanks to whoever or whatever put him on the planet and, even moreso, gave him the good fortune to be born a pony.

He briefly ruminates on why the one, as far as he is aware, species of creatures on the planet is blessed above and beyond everycreature else. It seems vaguely unfair, even if very few of his fellow ponies have realized anywhere close to their full potential.

That’s not to say others don’t share at least a few gifts; dragons can live for millenia if they have half a brain, even if a good portion of it is spent slumbering. Kirin are said to live for hundreds of years, a trait that is theorized to be related to their alleged draconic heritage. Though less advantageous given magic’s abilities, diamond dogs, minotaurs, abyssinians, pantherans, and a few other races have the advantage of upright postures, use of some magics, and opposable thumbs… even if they don’t seem to take full advantage of such.

As far as he’s concerned, it’s zebras, griffons, hippogriffs that get the short end of the stick. While their life expectancy is roughly the equivalent of a pony’s, they completely miss out on the advantages that marks of destiny convey and, as far as everypony knows, have no inherent possibility to ascend to something more. Neither do other races, granted, but few others are in constant contact with ponies and have it rubbed in their faces constantly, aside from sporadic communities scattered about.

It’s a question that’s niggled at the back of his mind more since he learned that active talent use will be a topic introduced to foals with the upcoming school year. Will the other races finally realize how ridiculously unfair ponies have it? Will there be some kind of international backlash?

Better yet, what could they even do if they wanted to? Equestria is large and has the potential to be immensely powerful once populations start booming. While the other races allegedly do not suffer from the fertility issues that ponies endure, their citizenry’s numbers are no higher largely due to not enjoying the prolonged peace provided by an all-powerful demigod at the helm.

That’s not even factoring the colt’s own capabilities. While he’d like to believe he would absolutely never do anything truly horrific, Luna probably would have sworn the same even hours before she finally fell. The constant awareness of being able to, with little effort, kill an entire planet is not a simple burden to ignore. A few stories had hinted at possible futures similar to that; Celestia, as Daybreaker, alone on a burned, blasted land. The unavailability of death makes the prospect all the more horrifying.

The thought crosses his mind that, as long as the planet hasn’t been scoured clean of life, he could probably jumpstart the whole process over again.

He nearly spirals out of control mid-air at the realization. He could restart the lifecycle of a planet, in theory. So long as there’s enough water and light, there’s nothing that would prevent him from rushing an otherwise dead world through billions of years of evolution.

That sounds supremely boring, he muses, resuming his flight. He dismisses the idle thoughts, pushing them aside for Future Cure to deal with. For now, he focuses his attention on the gathering families outside the recreation facility far below him. Bleeding off most of his altitude with a sharp dive, he zeroes in on the small squad of bats that have volunteered to be his Royal Guard for the evening. As soon as he’s in range, he fires off his spell, flashing into existence far enough above them that they’re not temporarily blinded.

As always, dozens of heads swivel up to watch as the colt comes in for a landing. “Howdy, gents,” he calls in greeting, pivoting towards the building. “Ladies,” he nods to the other foals, “how’s everypony feeling tonight? We all ready to learn how to properly whoop some tail?”

It sounds every bit as forced and cheesy as he feels saying it, but he can’t just completely ignore the hundred or so eyes following his every move. He feels somewhat guilty that he’s kept himself emotionally distant from the other foals. Having an entirely separate identity makes it very difficult to form meaningful friendships, though. Even without that barrier, his diurnal nature would make hanging out nearly impossible.

With polite chuckles and questionably genuine sounds of agreement the mass of foals, parents, guards, instructors, and others make their way into the building and to the gym.

Class begins as normal with a round of stretches, then katas, then instructions and a demonstration of “safe” striking locations to hurt, but not injure a foe. Despite listening well enough to follow along, Cure can’t help but be distracted. A faint smell is in the air; one of a distinctly non-pony origin. It’s hard for Cure to place. Dirt, certainly, but an unfamiliar mustiness he associates with decay. His first thought is that it may be a changeling and, just in case, he tweaks his serotonin and adrenaline production to maintain his calm.

The more he ponders on it, the more it eats at him; he expected a coppery smell instead of the typical tang of iron, but he isn’t picking that up at all. Chitin has a unique scent as well, even if it is far too subtle to normally discern, yet it is not present either.

As the group works their ways through their katas he takes the opportunity to casually glance around the room. A single, dark gray bat pony stallion stands separate from the group of parents observing their foals. A slight alteration of Cure’s left eye allows him to appear as if staring ahead, yet still focus his perception to the side where the stallion stands near the double-door exit to the facility’s lobby.

Though he’s certainly not the only adult keeping an eye on their prince, the intensity of his stare is unique, and would normally be disconcerting enough to make the young alicorn’s coat stand on edge.

Not wanting the stallion to escape, Cure casually stretches his wings and rolls his neck, using the motion to eject a hooffull of modified, filled mosquitoes into the air. The bugs surreptitiously fly straight up to the ceiling, then over the target’s back before silently gliding down to release their payload; a potent cocktail of pheromones that is undetectable by either ponies or any insect he’s yet scanned. They glide past their target, wings unflapping, and land silently on the ground before scurrying off to die out of sight.

Cure watches with bated breath, observing to see if there’s any reaction. When the stallion fails to notice, he moves forward with the next step of his plan; wait and see what happens. He’s tempted to attempt indirectly analyzing the stallion with his magical aura, but dismisses the idea as just too risky. Without knowing what he’s dealing with, he figures it’s best to continue appearing unaware.

The class continues as normal, all the while Cure does his best to pay no more attention to the creature than he does anypony else. He gets a much better opportunity to mark the creature when everypony is sparring, ensuring that for the next few days, or likely weeks, he’ll be able to follow its scent easily.

Aside from the uncomfortable staring, nothing unusual happens at all until towards the end of the session. With only ten minutes left, the stallion’s apparent daze is suddenly broken. Cure catches the movement, but once again does not turn to stare. What he does see is that the stallion turns away from Cure and looks off in the distance, glances back to the colt, makes an annoyed face, and turns to march out the door.

His sudden departure somewhat disappoints the colt; he isn’t sure what he wanted to do, but having many of his options removed is unfortunate. Ultimately, he accepts the fact that it may be for the best. Though he could have alerted his guards and the volunteers to confront the stallion, now he has the option of finding where he went and going from there.

As has become tradition, Cure and his guards take up position next to the exit and say farewell to everypony, treating any that have minor, easily fixed problems or identifying larger concerns that warrant a trip to the hospital.

<< Hey sarge, >> he messages to Sgt. Song, << before you head out I need to ask you something. >> A second message is sent to Lt. Silver asking him to stop by as well. Both make their way over with looks of confusion and a twinge of worry at the unusual request. The privacy screen he erects around the three of them does nothing to mitigate their concern. “There was a stallion here I’ve never seen before.

“He was staring at me the same way my mom eyes an all-you-can-eat dessert bar. Do either of you recognize him?” he asks, projecting an Illusion of the stallion in question. The quality isn’t quite as good as a scanned pony would be, but Cure had well over an hour to take in his appearance, so it’s certainly good enough.

“Slightly above average height, a dark gray coat, a slicked-back black mane, silver eyes, and a dark red heart symbol for his cutie mark. Ring any bells?”

But shake their heads no.

“Never seen him before,” Silver insists. “The coat and mane colors are very common for us, but I don’t recognize his face. I know a few ponies with hearts for cutie marks, but… no, not him.”

“He’s cute,” Song chirps. “You said he was here alone? Maybe I could introduce him to my sister.”

Cure gives her a look of disbelief. “The dude looked like he wanted to eat my gooey insides and wear my skin like a second coat. I’m about ninety-nine percent sure he wasn’t a pony, sergeant.”

“I’m not sure I follow, sir. He looks like a pony to me.”

“He smelled like… an old, wet basement or cave or something.”

Her ears pin back and a sour look crosses her face. “We don’t live in caves, sir,” she insists in a mildly annoyed tone.

“That was not what I was implying, sergeant,” he sternly rebukes.

Lt. Silver waves his hoof in placation. “It’s a stereotype we get from some day ponies. You know, bats?” he says, extending his left wing slightly. “We get called cave dwellers sometimes, amongst other things.”

“That sucks, and I’m sorry to hear that, but whatever this dude was, he literally smelled like he did exactly that. Do either of you know of any kind of creature that can look like a pony, smells like it crawled out of a cave, and would stare at me like I’m dinner?”

“Nothing but superstition, sir,” he replies, slowly shaking his head. “Vamponies, wraiths, things like that, maybe.”

Song’s entire countenance shifts suddenly. Fangs bared and wings lifted in aggression, she snarls, “Vrykolaka!”

Silver does a decent job of not rolling his eyes, calmly arguing, “Those aren’t real. None of these things actually exist.”

“Nanna Grove used to tell us stories about them!” she nearly growls at the stallion. “They do too exist! That’s why her majesty has the Paladins!” She turns back to Cure and firmly insists, “We need to send a message to Meadow right away, sir!”

At the stallion’s unsure look Cure waves a wing to stave off any further argument. “I bet wendigos were once considered make-believe too, lieutenant. Fortunately, it’s almost sunrise, so I don’t think the princess will be too upset if I wake her up a few minutes early, even if we’re wrong.” Song, at least, looks relieved at the suggestion. He pauses and looks between the two. “Not a word to anypony until I’m back. Understood? I’ll give you both whatever updates she’ll allow.”

“Yes sir!” they chorus as one.

Meeting concluded, Cure dispels the privacy screen. Wary of an ambush, he tests the air as he makes his way outside and still finds a lingering trace of the scent tag he’d painted the stallion with. It’s distant now, suffusing the clouds just outside the building’s doors before it veers northeast, roughly in the direction of Parkdale. Rather than follow the scent himself, he crouches down and launches himself up into the sky, ascending at a rate that most ponies couldn’t hope to match. At two kilometers straight up into the night’s sky he casts Invisibility on himself and continues to rise, disappearing from even the formidable sight of the night pegasi watching below.

He halts well out of range of their vision and steps through the barrier between the physical and astral, arriving in a bank of clouds much as he has every other time. Paying careful attention to the feel of the environment, he notes a slight shift in the pressure in the near distance; first, a lessening of the ambient magic, then a weak current like a slow stream followed by a reversal as the princess enters the realm. What would have previously been unnoticed is now impossible to ignore as the majesty of the elder alicorn fills the space; the mare exuding a palpable presence like the sun on a warm summer afternoon.

“Good morning, Celestia,” he calls in greeting as she makes her way closer to the clearing.

“Cure?” she returns, voice full of concern. “Is something wrong?”

“Maybe. Something isn’t right, I can tell you that. I just left Junior Guard Training. There was a bat pony stallion there that set off alarm bells.” As he begins telling her about what he noticed, the princess approaches and lays down nearly right on top of him, pulling the colt to her chest as he continues. Her eyes go wide when he mentions the unusual smell and her wings twitch in barely suppressed anger when he talks about the gaze full of hunger.

“... would I be incorrect in assuming he looked towards the east before departing?”

“I noticed that too,” he answers with a nod. “Vampire was the first thing that came to mind, and it was also the first thing Lt. Silver suggested, even if he said they aren’t real.”

“They are very, very rare. I had believed my sister and I hunted them to extinction. I fear that any of their surviving ilk are probably old and, most likely, quite powerful as a result.”

“How powerful and what kind of power are we talking here? Physical strength? Magic? Speed?”

“The first and last, typically. They do possess mind magics and the power of illusions, but the former is unlikely to work on you. Even the strength of their young is a match for the most powerful of earth ponies and their speed is as great as any pegasus. They can be overwhelmed with numbers, which is likely why it chose not to attack. Or it was scouting, looking for an opportunity or trying to determine what direction you had arrived from.”

“Sucks for him. I fly way higher than a pony and I’m invisible.”

She nods and agrees, “Yes, that would likely make finding you nearly impossible.”

“Given the timing, the look, and your question, I’m guessing sunlight wrecks them?”

“It does. As does fire, silver, and water purified by the moon.”

“Moon water?”

She nods and explains, “Luna could infuse the essence of moonlight into a pool of water. Its effects on such creatures were exceedingly caustic.”

“So… it melts them?”

Cringing, the sun princess slowly nods in affirmation. “It was an abhorrent method of slaying them, not that the others were much better. If they were found in caves underground and a pond or small body of water were nearby, she would infuse her power into the water, carry it to the cave, and flood the system to purge the infection.

“Even the spray of mist from a passing tide was sufficient to doom such a being. When we entered the cave shortly after we would find only the cleansed bones remaining… whole skeletons left intact, washed from crevices in the wall. We would gather them and I would burn them to ash to ensure no trace of their evil was left behind.”

Cure stares at the princess with a mix of awe and respect. “Damn, boss. That’s metal as fudge. You should’a put that in your book. ‘The Slayer Sisters: Equestria’s Warrior Princesses.’ I’d read the shit outta that.”

A light chuckle escapes the mare as she shakes her head no. “I would much prefer my little ponies not fear my sister’s night, and I would be worried what effect that could have on the bat communities when they are already looked upon with suspicion by some. It is they, after all, that those creatures typically chose to mimic.”

“Ah. Makes sense,” he agrees. “Still, it makes ya wonder what could have made the idiot brazen enough to sit there and stare at me like that. I guess nopony else noticed anything was wrong, so…” he trails off with a shrug.

“The creature, whatever it may be, obviously did not expect to be detected. A reasonable expectation if it has been successfully living in hiding for centuries.”

He nods against her chest, suggesting, “I get stared at enough that I may not have noticed without the smell. That was the first thing I noticed, to be honest.”

“And pegasi do not possess a keen sense of smell,” she adds in agreement. “While I am curious what, specifically, such a creature could desire with the Alicorn of Life, I have little doubt its intentions are nefarious.”

“No clue, boss. Sgt. Song said we needed to get a message to your Paladins, but I figured I should give you a heads-up.”

“Absolutely! I will be dispatching a couple squads immediately upon my departure!” She squeezes the colt tight to her chest in a hug and nuzzles into his mane. “Your decision to mark the stallion was brilliant, Cure. In the future, if you find yourself approached by such a being you must prepare yourself, both mentally and physically, for violent conflict. If this is indeed some form of undead monster then it may believe feeding off you would empower it; a possibility I admit may be true. I may have to station a company of Paladins in Baltimare to act as a deterrent. Or as a strike team, perhaps.”

“Maybe,” he begrudgingly agrees. “At least until I’m stronger.”

Nodding again, she suggests, “Indeed. I suspect that is a concern any such fiend would have as well. They do possess intelligence. They would likely never dare attack a fully mature, empowered alicorn after the losses my sister and I inflicted upon them. I dare not hope that this creature is the last of their kind, but perhaps we could be so fortunate to never encounter them again.”

“What do they look like under that Illusion?”

The princess shudders at the memory. “A strange combination of a dog, dragon, and lamprey is the closest I can describe. Observe.”

Her horn ignites and she projects an Illusion of, more or less, a canine-ish creature, but with three sharp claws instead of paws. Its coat is extremely thin with pale gray skin visible through it and completely lacking any kind of mane. Its wings are certainly more draconic than bat-like in their shape. It has a thin, serpentine tail that ends in a point, but lacks any kind of spade or obvious weapon.

The biggest difference is in its face. The shorter, thicker muzzle is split open into three segments; a bottom, and two sides that open diagonally up. Each segment is lined with small, sharp teeth on the exterior and larger, fang-like ones further in that jut forward more than inward.

“Damn. Not the kinda creature you wanna take home to meet the folks. You said they’re undead? As in not alive?”

“Correct. They are the product of necromancy most foul. They rarely do so, but they can propagate by infecting a living victim with a parasite, devouring their essence from inside them much like a wasp’s offspring. It is a truly horrific fate,” she morosely adds. “While Luna’s water would cleanse the creatures themselves, their victims would be left mostly intact. Finding their exploded entrails traumatized many a young soldier greatly.

“It is fortunate that they seem to hate each other as much as they do anything else. We would typically find that they had beheaded their own young shortly after their,” she pauses, face scrunched in disgust, “... birth. We suspected they reproduced due to a compulsion, but killed their kin for fear of competition.”

The colt goes stock still during her explanation, then facehooves himself with more force than necessary.

The princess leans back, slightly startled at the odd behavior. “Cure?”

“I didn’t even think to look at it through different spectrums. I am such a dumbass.”

“I don’t follow.”

“Infrared and ultraviolet, boss!” he exclaims, throwing his hooves in the air. “I bet the damn thing didn’t have body heat! I never got close enough to find out with my normal heat sensors!”

“I very much prefer that, though I am curious as to whether you could have detected it another way.” She shrugs her wings and says, “It matters little so long as you do have a way of detecting them, I suppose.”

“Right. I still feel like a moron, but I guess so.” He blows out a long sigh and nuzzles into her chest. “Well thanks for hearing me out and not dismissing it out of hoof, Celestia. I can’t tell ya how much I appreciate workin for a manager that listens to their employees.”

“You are quite welcome, Cure. I cannot begin to tell you how wonderful it is to have competent underlings to rely on.” She pats him on the head like he’s a small child, which, to be fair, he realizes he is. It doesn’t stop him from scowling up at the mare, much to her amusement.

“Be that as it may, I need to go let Song and Silver know that the cavalry is on its way.”

“And it is nearly time for me to raise my sun,” she agrees.

“Exactly. Where should I wait for them and what’s their ETA?”

“I will have teams from Forts Meadow and Hamleton dispatched immediately. The Fort Meadow squad will arrive first, likely within the next half hour. Fort Hamleton’s team will arrive via carriages soon after; Manehattan is not that far by air, after all. I suspect you will want to be involved, but -”

“Nope!” he instantly denies, cutting her off mid-sentence. “I’m good lettin the pros do their thing.”

Brows raised in surprise, she cranes her neck to look down at the colt. “Really? I had expected you to insist that you accompany them.”

“Nah, screw that. I don’t want to see that shit unless I have to. If they can preserve the body for a scan then that’s super, but I’m fine sittin this one out. I’ll tweak their sniffers so they can follow the scent, but I’ll happily keep my furry butt well away from anything that wants to snack on me ‘till I’m strong enough to fight ‘em.”

A knot of tension in the princess’s chest unwinds and she relaxes, once again squeezing the colt against her soft fluff. “I am relieved to hear that, Cure. There are many, many times that I am thankful for your maturity. Please notify your parents that you will be delayed, then fly directly to Base Carol. I will alert Captain Stance along with the others.”

“Will she be there? It’s Saturday morning, you know, and unless I’m miscounting my weekends she’s off right now.”

She cocks her head in thought, then nods. “You are correct. This is Lt. Quill’s weekend. Regardless, he will alert the captain as soon as he reads the missive. I am unaware of any missing ponies in the Baltimare region, but the possibility exists, unfortunately.”

“Ah right, the anti-changeling measures you put in place. Alright, I’ll head to Carol now. Should I keep my parents in the dark?”

She only ponders a moment before shaking her head. “No. You may tell them, though I would withhold the more unsavory details.”

“Yeah, my dam doesn’t need to hear about exploded abdomens,” he immediately agrees. He rears up and wraps the princess’s neck in a leg and wing hug, and is promptly rewarded with a soft, warm embrace in return. “We still on for tomorrow night?”

“Absolutely. I must go now; my sun calls to me to lend a hoof in its ascent. Farewell, Cure.”

“Later boss!”

Aware that his sire is probably still asleep, Cure first contacts Title to give her the news. << Hey mom, ran into some kind of weird creature at training. Nothing bad happened, it was just present. Celestia is sending Paladins to Carol, so I’m going there to meet ‘em. Will message dam so she knows I’m okay. >>

<< Creature? Paladins?! What kind of creature?! >>

<< Don’t know for sure. It smelled off and was eye-humping me for most of training. Boss suspects a vampire of some kind. >>

<< Those exist?! What the fuck? >>

<< Apparently. Don’t worry, Paladins are on the way. I’m fine. Need to message dam too. Maybe warn her? >>

<< Sure thing, babe. Be careful. >>

<< Always am, ma. >>

Grumbling that his plans for the day have to be readjusted, Cure pumps as much mana into the crystal as he can before sending his next message, this time to his great grandsire. << Hey grandpa. Will have to get with you and grandma later. Something came up during training and I’m running behind. Crystal almost out of magic, still need to message dam. >>

He continues pumping as much magic in as he can supply during the short trip to the base. It’s only a few minutes later when he and his escorts come in for a landing a respectful distance away from the front gate. Silver and Song had both offered to join him after giving them a short briefing, but they both had foals and Cure was not about to suggest they prioritize him over their own children with a potential predator nearby, especially when he already has an escort.

“Cpl. Bitterbark, Pvt. Posy,” he nods in greeting to the saluting mares as he approaches. “As you were.”

“Sir! Lt. Quill just sent word to expect you, sir!” the corporal replies.

“Excellent.” He turns to face his guard detail and straightens up, saluting with his right wing. “Thank you for the escort, but I believe I’m all set from here. Be sure to convey my apologies to your spouses for keeping you all a bit later than normal, okay?”

All three snap to attention and return the salute, accepting the dismissal with amused smiles at his suggestion.

As soon as the crystal charges enough, he sends his dam a message informing her he arrived at the base safely. He approaches the command building to find Lt. Quill standing outside waiting for him. The darker blue stallion snaps a salute as he approaches. “As you were, lieutenant,” he responds with a more casual wing salute. The two turn to head into the building together, Cure following the stallion as he escorts him past several guard posts, down a flight of stairs to a basement, and into a large room that, Cure guesses, is the command nexus for the entire city’s garrison.

It is nothing at all like he had anticipated.

Dozens of ponies mare stations lining the walls, looking at magically-empowered view screens that display different sections of the city. A large, illusory, three-dimensional map of Baltimare occupies the center of the room, and is surrounded by a trio of unicorns shifting the, apparently, real-time image block-by-block as they scan the northern section of the city and western sections of Parkdale.

The detail when zoomed in is amazing, to the point where Cure can see individual ponies both on the ground and soaring through the air. Though the resolution is not quite fine enough to make out facial features, coat, mane, and wing colors are discernable.

There is no doubt that wide-eyed wonder is showing on the young alicorn’s face as he takes it all in. “Wooooaah.”

“Pretty amazing, isn’t it, highness?” Quill proudly boasts.

“This is insane. Do all cities have this?!”

“No, unfortunately, they don’t. This is all very new; so new, in fact, that we’re still learning how to use it all.”

He briefly wonders why Baltimare, of all places, would have a new system installed before it dawns on him. “How new, exactly, lieutenant?”

The stallion laughs lightly and nods his head in confirmation. “Just a little over two months, sir. Her majesty was quite adamant that a city hosting a young alicorn needed proper protections.” He inclines his head in thought and shrugs his wings. “Given the circumstances, I can’t help but concede the point.”

“Is the data collected by all of this,” he waves his wing across the room at large, “stored somehow?”

“Images can be transferred to paper, if needed, sir. There is no way to watch an event that has already passed, unfortunately. I understand that there’s a few companies competing to develop a method to do just that, though.”

Well shit. There goes my ‘save stuff on a crystal’ patent, I bet.

“I see.”

“If his highness would like,” he begins, pointing to an office on the far side of the room, “I could see that a breakfast is brought down while we wait.”

“That… sounds kinda nice, actually. Thank ya kindly, lieutenant. I’ll keep myself out of everypony’s way.”

“HA! Perish the thought, sir, but I have a request as well.” He waits for Cure to cock a brow in question. “If your highness could, please refrain from using magic beyond levitation while in the room. Some of the equipment is sensitive to interference,” he asks, pointing to one of the many signs decorating the wall. Amongst them one repeats frequently with the words “LEVITATION ONLY IN THIS AREA” above a simple drawing of a horn with a corona surrounding it and a large, red line overtop.

“Ah. Right. Probably best you said something. Thanks.”

“Of course, sir. The captain should be in soon, and I’ll inform your highness when the Paladins arrive.”

“I’m hooo-ACK!”

Cure’s call out upon descending the stairs is mercilessly cut off when he’s tackled to the floor and relentlessly nuzzled by his dam. His youngest siblings look on in confusion from beside Title as their dam marehandles their poor older brother. She checks the colt over from horn to tail to ensure he hasn’t been injured by the malicious stare of some vicious, foal-hungry monster.

Both Cherry and Lotus rush over to join in the pony pile, blasting the colt with questions in a relentless barrage with the former leading the charge. “Are you okay?!”

“Did something try to eat you?”

“Did you beat it up?”

“Did you feed it to your plant?”

“It didn’t follow you home, did it?!”

The question gives both fillies pause. They both suddenly scamper to the opposite side of the colt and his dam from the door and look at it as if they’re expecting something to burst through it at any second.

“Nothing happened, girls,” he denies. “Just some mean monster was dumb enough to come around. It’s gone now,” he explains as he dangles in his dam’s grasp. Despite the quiet laughter from the other parents watching from the nursery, he resists the urge to free himself, giving the mare all the time she needs to assure herself he’s completely unharmed.

“Geez, dam… the dude, thing, whatever, never got within ten meters of me. The Paladins were able to follow the scent marker I put on it and went all ‘Purge the Heretic’ on it. Didn’t even take them half an hour to find its hideout.”

“It’s dead?” Amethyst asks, shocked at the quick resolution.

“Even deader than it was this morning,” he answers with a nod, all six limbs dangling from his dam’s inspection. Finally satisfied, she squashes him against her chest in a tight embrace, takes a deep breath, and blows out a long sigh of relief. Cure gently taps her on the side, with an air of nonchalance, says, “You can, ya know… put me down now, dam. I’m home. I’m safe. The threat is very much gone.”

She tightens her hold for a moment longer before finally releasing the colt. “You’re not going to that practice any more!” she sternly insists. “Not without proper guards, at least!”

Cure huffs and rolls his eyes. “Already taken care of,” he responds. “The princess said she’ll probably station a squad of Paladins in town from now on, so I’ll have real Royal Guards when I go there. I’ll find out more tomorrow, but there’s really no reason to be concerned.”

“Oh.” She instantly deflates from her puffed up posture. “Well, I suppose that’s good then. Are we sure there’s not any others out there?”

He spares a moment to wrap both girls in a wing hug and nuzzles them both, reassuring them, “The princess sent her guards and they took care of everything. We’re completely safe.” Both fillies exhale a sigh of relief as he looks back to his dam. “No. How could I possibly know that? I don’t even know if there was more than one wherever the thing was hiding.

“The captain said the paladins found the threat and took care of it and that it was safe for me to leave. Not that I wasn’t already pretty safe given I can turn invisible, teleport, and it’s daytime out now. Truthfully, I’m surprised you even told them anything,” he says, squeezing the girls a little tighter. “Why would you?”

“Like they couldn’t tell yer dam was upset,” Amethyst scoffs. “All we told ‘em was something was starin at ya at trainin and you’d be late gettin home. They overheard the rest with that super hearin ‘a yers.”

“Ah.”

“We’re glad ta hear yer alright, champ. I knew you’d be fine, but yer ma’s were right worried when they heard somecreature was out ta getchya.”

“I’m surprised it’s already taken care of,” Title notes. “Seems like this would have been more of a big to-do.”

Deed finally lets Savvy wiggle free from his grasp. The pink filly immediately launches herself at her older brother, wings flapping madly.

Cure catches the energetic filly with his right foreleg, squeezing her against his chest and kissing all over her brow. “Dunno what to tell ya, ma. I keep tellin y’all I’m ready for almost anything.”

“You,” Amethyst drawls, pointing her hoof at the colt from atop his sire’s withers, “didn’t have to fight it at all.”

“You’re right. I didn’t have to fight it,” he echoes in agreement. His sisters follow him to the nearest couch by Title; the older two each climbing beneath a wing while he pins the younger between his forelegs. “But my point is still valid. I detected a threat immediately and took steps to address it. Lo and behold,” he waves a wing vaguely in the direction of Baltimare, “it is addressed. With gusto, no less.

“It simply amazes me how insignificant even serious threats can be when they’re found early and dealt with by ponies that are properly equipped and trained to tackle them,” he muses.

“I suppose,” she begrudgingly grants.

“So… now that that’s over with, what were you all working on?”

“Really?” Title asks. She waves a hoof at him preening his sister and asks, “You’re just… okay with the fact that some monster that wanted to eat you hunted you down this morning?”

He shrugs his wings and points out, “I’ve had a year now to mentally prepare myself for the fact that there are literal monsters in this world, ma. I think I’m more afraid of the day I’ll eventually have to hurt something than I am about anything trying to hurt me. Besides, I’m pretty confident I could have either taken that thing out or gotten away easily enough.”

The familiar weight of his dam settles on his back as she insists, “No fighting monsters, Cure! I only agreed to this whole prince thing because I thought it would keep you safe. You’re too young to be fighting anything!”

“I will remind you that I did not, in fact, fight anything. I did exactly what I should have done given the circumstances.”

“He’s right, V,” Amethyst agrees. “Ya done good, colt. Glad yer smart enough not ta think yer invincible.”

Cure scoffs and shakes his head no. “There’s no way am I testin the boss’s theory there, ma. You know, I’m tempted to give you all a demonstration one of these days so you don’t all worry about me so much. I ain’t tryin to sound like Captain Hardflank here, but I really don’t think y’all have a firm grasp on what I’m really capable of. Dad’s the only one that probably has an inkling, but none of the rest of ya have ever gone to the range or anything.”

“That doesn’t matter at all, honey,” Vines insists. “Even the toughest ponies can lose or get snuck up on.” She cringes and admits, “Though I suppose you are harder to sneak up on than most.”

“I wouldn’t mind seein,” Amethyst chimes in. “Honestly, I wouldn’t mind takin a shot or two myself with some’a them crystals.”

“Can we try too?” Cherry asks, giving her big brother those huge, soulful, begging eyes.

“Absolutely not!” Vines answers as he shakes his head no. “Not until you’re a few years older, Cherry.” The betrayed look she gives him stabs right into his heart. “If the geezers -” he pauses to scowl up when his dam nips his ear, “I mean youthful, lovely parents say it’s okay we can go out back and use Shape Earth and Shape Stone.”

“Sounds neat, colt,” Amethyst agrees, starting to climb off Deed’s withers. “In fact, how ‘bout I come join ya. Gotta admit I’m a little curious myself.”

<< We’re around back, Dawn. Come on around! >>

The filly immediately swerves to the right to go around the house, calling back over her withers, “He says they’re around back.”

The four adults look at each other, collectively shrug, and change course to follow as she canters around the corner. They slow their trot when they find Dawn standing at the back corner of the house with a complex look on her face. Exasperation, disappointment, resignation, and maybe slightest hint of amusement grace the filly’s features. The two eldest brace themselves for whatever it is she’s borne witness to, aware that her reaction means the colt has done something ridiculous.

Despite bracing for the unknown, Haze and Emerald still pause for a moment to process the sight before them. It brings the sergeant back to his own foalhood, and he completely fails to stifle the small chuckle that escapes his lips.

The foal-sized castle, because why not, sits in the middle of the back yard, directly behind the house. Far more well made than the ones he and his siblings constructed, it is every bit as tall as Deed is at eye level. Nearly two meters to a side, the stone structure must have taken some serious magic to put together. Then again, he considers, with the plethora of crystals, five adults, and one alicorn whose capabilities dwarf a typical unicorn, he could imagine construction taking only a few hours.

“How long has there been a castle here?” Starlight wonders aloud as the herd slowly approaches.

“That was not here last night,” Dawn answers with a sigh. “His plant is straight up cow manure.”

Emerald doesn’t hesitate to chide her. “That is not how proper young ladies speak, dear.”

“Those are his words, dam!”

“Well, glowbug,” Haze begins, “in your dam’s defense, I do not believe anypony has accused Cure of being a proper young lady.”

“I’m honestly a little jealous,” Solar admits. His son looks at Haze and asks, “Why didn’t we ever do something like that?”

“Truthfully? I don’t know, son. Perhaps when you get home for Hearth’s Warming we can build a tree fort.”

As if somepony was waiting for a break in their conversation, which is almost certainly the case, the large drawbridge begins lowering itself far quieter than a real one would, likely thanks to the silk threads supporting its weight in place of chains.

The colt’s two elder sisters step out wearing exceedingly well-made facsimiles of real guard armor, each carrying a blunted, short (for an adult) spear in the crook of their right fetlocks.

The one on the left - Cherry, if Haze is not mistaken - calls out in a high-pitched voice. “Hail, strangers! State thine name and intentions!”

“Yeah!” Lotus shouts in agreement. “Who goes there and what do ya want?”

A guffaw escapes the elder stallion, and even Emerald’s usually-austere demeanor cracks as she quietly giggles at the adorable fillies.

“Oh. My. Celestia! So cuuute!” Starlight squeals, dancing on her hooves, barely keeping herself back from glomping the pair.

Haze steps forward and bows his head, shaking in mirth the whole while. “Greetings, noble knights! We come to beseech the lord of these lands in hopes that he would grant us audience.”

A poorly smothered laugh can be heard from within the castle’s walls. Both fillies turn and look in the door. Lotus loudly whispers to her older brother to relay the message. “He says he wants to talk to her. What should we do?!”

“Tell them she’ll be right out,” is the not-very-quiet response.

“Okay!” she shouts, turning back to the group. “He said they’ll be right out!” she happily chirps.

No more than a few seconds after the message is conveyed to the group, Cure, disguised as a typical earth pony, emerges from the castle’s interior with a large, plush, purple pillow with gold frills sitting on his withers. Languidly lazing upon the pillow is the colt’s younger sister, a regal cloak trailing down her back and a laurel wreath resting upon her brow.

Haze briefly wonders just how aware the filly is. With her head held high, snout proudly turned to the sky, and her wings cocked up and spread open, the younger foal has the bearing of a queen being paraded about by her loyal subjects. Cure plays the part perfectly as well, approaching the family before dropping into a bow, then sliding the pillow up over his neck and head to rest on his forelegs, but never touching the ground.

In an overly pompous tone, the colt announces, “Her Royal Imperial Majesty, Empress Venture the First, may she reign forever, has seen fit to grant your request for an audience. What boon would thee ask, beyond the opportunity to bask in her magnificence?”

“Umm… a blessing of good health?”

A moment of silence follows. When no response is given, Cure leans forward and nudges the filly with his snout, quietly whispering, “Say yes, Savvy.”

“Yes!” the girl eagerly chirps. “Yes! Yes! Yes!”

“Four boons!” Cure jubilantly shouts. “The empress has seen fit to grant thine request! Rejoice, that lowly commoners such as thineselves should have such fortune!”

“Lowly commoners?” Emerald echoes, her tone one of annoyance.

The house’s back door opening causes all heads to swivel in Deed’s direction. “Alright, son, you’ve had yer fun. Now come on,” he waves inside the house, “Solar ain’t got all day, after all.”

The colt huffs in annoyance and sets the pillow on the ground. “Fiiine!” he groans as he stands up, rolling his eyes as hard as a pony possibly can. He gives each of his sisters a smooch on their brow and says, “Good job, Lotus, Cherry. I’d let you be my knights any day!”

“Really?!” they ask as one.

“You bet! But don’t get too excited. The job is super boring. Just ask Mr. Haze how fun standing around all day is.”

“It can be, at times,” the stallion confirms when they both look in his direction. “To be fair, though, boring is good when you’re a guard. When it isn’t boring that means something has likely gone wrong.”

“Well, come on then,” the colt sighs, not even reacting when his sister leaps to follow, flying after him and landing on his back again, “daylight is burnin, I suppose.” He passes by Amethyst and Title as they exit the house to get a better look at the castle.

The latter scoops Savvy off his back and quietly warns, “Don’t do anything weird, got it?”

The herd of unicorns all follow Cure, wondering what exactly that warning stemmed from. Sensing their curiosity, he glances over his withers to explain, “I played a prank or two on her last night. Nothin big, but she’s got it in her head I’d try to be funny today or somethin. Y’all know my policy; I don’t joke around when I’m doing medical stuff.”

“Except making a me-puppet,” Solar grumbles.

The colt’s ears flatten and he hangs his head in a mild nod. “Yeah. Sorry ‘bout that, dude. Kinda mixed up the ‘can do’ and ‘should do’ columns a bit on that.”

“Columns?” he questions, unfamiliar with the expression.

“Yeah,” he bobs his head again, leading them through the hallway to the front of the house. He pauses by the stairs and briefly looks up, then to the front door before shrugging. “Dam ‘n pa must’a gone to the store,” he mumbles before turning left and entering his office. “So imagine ya got two lists side by side. ‘Can do’ on the left, ‘should do’ on the right. Some things go in both columns, know what I mean?”

They all follow him in as he hops up on his little couch and turns to face them, flopping on his barrel. From one blink to the next, the unassuming earth pony’s disguise is dispelled to reveal the foal’s true nature. He continues as additional seating emerges from the floor. A large wooden bench forms long enough for all the adults, then the top fluffs up, for lack of a better description, into a soft, foamy mesh. A smaller seat forms immediately by his right side and he lifts his wing in invitation.

With a happy swish of her tail and a muzzle-splitting smile, Dawn leaps up to join the colt and snuggles into his side. A small pillow raises between her forehooves and she sighs in contentment when she rests her chin on it. Similar pillows sprout out of their seating as the rest arrange themselves on the larger couch; Solar closest to the colt on his left, then Starlight, Emerald, and, finally Haze closest to the door, which swings shut before the privacy wards flash into existence.

“So anyhow, a few things. First off, no need to g-tube you. I had a patient with a very different issue, but also needing to put on some weight.”

Emerald interrupts, asking, “The pegasus mare?”

“Yup. Word got around?”

She gives him a flat look and explains, “I scarcely believe you could scratch an itch without word getting around, Cure.”

“That’s fair. So anyhow, and forgive me if this looks every bit as weird,” he begins as a tendril of his plant emerges from the ground and hovers in front of him, “but what I’ll be doing instead, with your blessing, is basically the same, I’ll just go in at the base of your neck so you can still talk and whatnot. Observe without freaking out, please.”

With that warning, the tendril slowly snakes its way to the colt, planting itself just above where his neck meets his chest. Dawn leans slightly away to get a better look, but aside from the exterior of the stalk opening outwards like a flower there is nothing to see. “No pain, no discomfort, no problem.

“I’ll hook you up like this, pump you full of calories, then push that through your system to make any additions necessary. No muss, no fuss, and you can be awake through it all if you want. I will say that it’ll probably feel weird having my magic coursing through you for such an extended period of time - maybe an hour - but,” he shrugs, “what can you do? Normally there would be consequences to ‘consuming’ so much food. Don’t worry about those; nopony is going to have to make bathroom breaks while I work.”

He withdraws the tendril and pans his gaze over the group. “Questions about this part of the process?”

“Not about this part, exactly,” Solar says, flicking his eyes towards his parents.

“Is your question about how we’re doing this?”

“Yep.”

“My plan was to discuss with each of you,” he motions between the younger couple, “what you wanted done one at a time. I can do the same for you two,” he inclines his head to the elders, “but yer married, so why bother?”

“Bothered last week,” Emerald grumbles under her breath.

Cure can’t help but quietly chuckle. The mare’s ears tilt back in embarrassment when she remembers how acute his hearing is.

“So anyhow,” he continues, “extensive changes may take as much as an hour, but some simple stuff like conscious control of autonomic functions?” He shrugs and flicks his left wing, “A few minutes to make the change and a few more to teach you how to use it.”

Haze blushes slightly at the reminder of the previous weekend. Having a foal directly cause that reaction, even in a clinical situation, must be the most uncomfortable he’s been in his entire life, even if it was necessary to “train” him to “engage” the nerves on his own.

“Any other questions?” The group spends several seconds sharing looks to see if anypony has any, after which he claps his forehooves. “Awesome. So… who’s first?”

“I think my parents will,” Solar answers. “We talked about this a lot and since I’ll take longer they said they wanted to go first.”

“Cool. Alright then.” The door swings open and he removes his wing from Dawn’s back, getting a pout from the filly. “If you three want, I have auto-massage couches laid out in the back living room. Just hop up on one and get comfy and my plant’ll give you a good workin-over while ya wait.”

That wipes away her disappointment. With a departing nuzzle, the filly hops down and leads the other two out into the hallway. The door seals shut again and an awkward silence permeates the room.

“So…” the colt begins, “I’m not so uncouth as to ask how everything worked out.” Both ponies’ ears darken, but they otherwise react as mature adults should. “But, if there were any problems then this is a good time to make me aware.”

“No,” Haze quickly assures him. Slowly, as if he doesn’t want to say it out loud, he continues, “Everything worked as expected.”

Emerald scoffs, bumping her husband with her left shoulder. “I very much beg to differ.”

“Yes, well,” the stallion coughs to hide his discomfort, “no unpleasant surprises, I suppose, would be more accurate.”

“Great! I can’t tell you how relieved I am to hear it! I had kinda worried you,” he directs to the mare, “would be a bit miffed at me over that. So unless there’s any issues that need addressed beyond maybe a touch of healing…?” He waits a moment to see if either speaks up, during which her ears darken further, then continues, “then I just need to know what all you would like to work on.”

With the parents’ requests taken care of, Solar and Starlight languidly make their way into Cure’s office. The young mare climbs up on the couch and all but collapses on her side, heaving a deep sigh. The colt watches on in amusement when she rolls to her back and stretches her legs in every direction, yawns loudly, and finally settles into a comfortable position.

Solar sedately climbs up to join her, laying just beside the girl and resting his chin on her soft chest. The young mare instinctively wraps her forelegs around his neck to squeeze him tight against her.

“So… I’m guessing you enjoyed the couches?”

She lazily turns her neck to face him and cracks an eye open. “Yesssss,” she dreamily hisses. “How much for one of those?”

The massage plant, unfortunately, does not perform autonomously. It does have the parts of a brain necessary for motor control so that some of the processing is offloaded from Cure’s own mind, but the ability to both follow verbal commands as well as respond to nonverbal cues would require a great deal more processing power than Cure would be comfortable creating.

That’s doubly true when he considers the significant, though not overwhelming, physical strength that the plant needs to give a proper massage. He can easily imagine some Stephen King-esque story coming out at some point in the future about a massage table that either ate or pretzel-fied a poor pony after gaining some level of sapience.

“I would flat out give you one if I could, but it only works because it’s hooked into my greater plant. I’ve never been to your place in Baltimare before… do you live near the hospital, by any chance?”

She scoffs and shakes her head no. “The housing closer to the hospital are too expensive. I have an apartment a little ways east of the zoo.”

A thought occurs to the colt: The zoo is just beside a decent sized park, not far from the rail line that enters the city. The hospital-based network is already stretching northwest, so an offshoot to the northeast is feasible as well. After a moment of pondering, he finally dismisses the idea as a waste of resources. If he’s going to expand anywhere at all, he would be better off going east towards the ocean.

The ocean! Holy shitballs! I can just have a node in the friggin ocean and do everything underwater! Moron!

The colt keeps his features under control despite the insistent urge to facehoof for not thinking of it earlier. “That’s a bummer. I could, maybe, have given you a plant if you were really close to the hospital, but yeah, sorry. If you want a massage you’re free to come by whenever you want and ask for one. We have a spare room you could crash in whenever.”

He almost reflexively offers to let her crash with him and his sisters, but inviting his adoptive older brother’s marefriend to sleep with him, even with two fillies present, is probably a little too much, even if his intentions are pure. He would never betray his friend, but Cure’s own maturity is a double-edged sword in this case, and the offer alone may make things awkward.

“Mmm… maybe,” she thoughtfully defers.

“Cool. Hay, bring Prism if you want. I don’t mind pampering my bro’s ladies a bit while he’s unavailable. Just Send me a message so I know you’re coming and I’ll get everything ready for ya.” The thoughtful look tells him she’s at least considering it. “So, on to business. You’ve had time to think and talk it out, I hope?”

“We have,” Solar answers with a nod.

“Awesome. What have you decided?”

Starlight cranes her neck up to look in Solar’s eyes. Cure can see some hesitance in the young stallion’s look; a fact that worries him slightly. He does his best to convince himself that it’s not his friend’s fault if he’s unsure about making any big changes to himself. His own dam has been the same, only recently allowing the colt to upgrade her own and the foals’ senses fully. She’d had the olfactory upgrades for quite a while, but the vision package was not one she’d embraced until just recently.

With one last reassuring nod Starlight lays back down, her head tilted slightly to the side to not dig into the couch. With a flex of will a hole forms directly under the tip and, before she has a chance to react, her head rolls to the side to press flatly against the couch’s surface.

She gives a small yelp at the unexpected movement that quickly changes to a contented sigh when she nuzzles her crown and the top of her nuzzle into the plush material. Solar realizes what happened only a second later, snorting a laugh at his marefriend’s foalish behavior.

“Star just wants the basics. Senses, the foal stuff,” he bashfully forces out, eliciting a giggle from the mare in question when his coat darkens, “and the cosmetic stuff you talked about last time. As far as I am concerned, there’s a few things I’m not sure about, but for the most part, I’m going to trust you.”

The colt lights up in glee, eyes widening as he nearly dances in place on his small couch. “Really?!”

Solar nods.

The colt shoots off his perch and, with a flap of his wings, impacts the young stallion’s free side in a tight wing hug. “You won’t regret it, dude! This is going to be so awesome! You’re not gonna believe how happy you’ll be that you trusted me here! I promise, when you stroll outta here, you’re gonna feel like a million bits! You ready to get started now? This’ll take a little longer than yer folks did.”

“Whenever you are,” he agrees, chuckling at the enthusiastic foal.

“Awesome! Awake or asleep?”

“Awake, please.”

“You got it, bro! Just don’t freak out. You won’t feel a thing, promise!”

“... and feel this, right here?” Cure asks for seemingly the hundredth time.

Though the older colt still has the distinctly trimmer build of a unicorn, but the extra hoof of height, both to his body and to his horn, certainly has an impact on his presence in the room. As far as Cure’s concerned, Solar is as physically fit and strong as a unicorn can get without the metaphysical buffs that earth ponies enjoy.

Starlight is clearly happy with the changes as well. Though she’s been sitting quietly to the side observing as Cure walks him through all the changes, her coat turned nearly crimson during one particular array of “upgrades” that the new body came with. She may have thought she was being subtle, but with the fixed stare and more rapid swishing of her tail she might as well have grabbed a megaphone to announce her excitement.

Standing in the center of the room, Solar concentrates on the odd sensation in his gums. “Yeah.”

“Okay. What I want you to do is take a deep breath, flex that, and blow like you’re inflating a balloon. Just don’t aim that at me or Star.”

“Dude…”

“What?”

“I’m not going to freaking shoot fire am I? First scales, then breath?! I am not a dragon.”

“No, no fire,” Cure assures him, “and besides, you can’t even see the scales. They’re under your skin and they're tiny, dude! You’ll just shoot out a paralytic like I used on those muggers.”

“The same one that almost killed the zebra?!”

“No! That was a soporific compound! It knocked ‘em out… I just gave that one mare a tad too much. This’ll leave somepony awake. There’s an additive that’ll make ‘em a tiny bit loopy, so they won’t remember what happened, but otherwise they’ll be fine.”

“When will I ever need to do that?!”

“I dunno,” Cure answers with a shrug. “Maybe somepony somehow foalnaps you and puts a magic blocking ring on your horn and also somehow chains your hooves together in a way that you can’t wiggle free.”

“I have a messaging crystal!”

“And now you have a hold-out weapon, too. One that can hit a whole room in a single breath.”

“You should have used that on the minotaurs, moron.”

“Yeah, probably. Live and learn, bro. Sometimes I suffer from having too many options to choose from. Now,” he points his wing at the wall to his right, “blow!”

Solar lets out an exasperated sigh, but does as he’s commanded. He turns, facing the wall, inhales deeply, activates the nerves that Cure instructed, and blows an invisible cloud against the wall. Only due to his enhanced senses can he detect the slightly acidic tang in the air as he blasts the entire side of the room with his venom.

“Excellent,” Cure slowly drawls in an oddly discomforting voice.

“Still seems silly,” Solar complains aloud, even if, in the confines of his own mind, he finds the idea kind of neat.

“Yeah, well, hopefully you never need it. Now, I suggest we go show ya off to the folks, then,” he shoots a wink to Starlight, “I imagine you probably want to give him a proper send-off before he has to head out.”

The navy mare grins broadly as she looks her stallion up and down. “That sounds like a fantastic idea.”

Solar shuffles uncomfortably on his hooves, but can’t fully hide the upturn of the corners of his lips.

The wards flash brightly for a split second before going completely dark followed by the heavy door swinging into the room. Cure leads the group out and rounds the corner to the right, aware that, aside from Lemon, everypony is waiting for the big reveal in the nursery. He trots right out into the room and hops up on the couch beside Dawn, opposite her dam, and half climbs on her withers.

“Sweet Celestia,” Amethyst quietly crows upon seeing the beefed-up stallion trotting into the room.

Even Title nods in appreciation, smiling broadly when she sees the way Starlight is eye-humping her coltfriend’s flanks.

Emerald shoots to her hooves and hops off the couch, closing the distance to wrap her son in a hug.

“I’m fine, dam,” the young stallion quietly assures her, wrapping a foreleg around her to pull the mare against his chest. With a dismissive snort, he lightly chuckles saying, “You’re acting like I was in danger or something.”

“How do you feel, son?” Haze asks, slowly taking in his son’s new physique.

“Great,” he answers with a shrug. “Not really all that different, to be honest.”

“You won’t until you exert yourself,” Cure points out. “Or rather, try to. Just remember, you need to eat more and, occasionally, mix some gems into your diet. Grind ‘em up and drink ‘em if you want.”

“Gems?!” Emerald cries, whipping her head around to face the colt.

“It’s necessary for the subdermal armor,” Cure explains. “Don’t worry; his body can process them just fine. Here, watch,” he says, igniting his horn. Emerald’s eyes go wide and several shouts of alarm sound out when a spellbolt zips past her and blasts Solar in his hip, the impact not even nudging the stallion as it discharges over his flank and dissipates. The look Emerald gives him is distinctly unamused despite there being no harm done.

“Dagnabit, colt,” his sire growls, fixing him with an annoyed stare.

“I’ve told you a million times!” Vines shouts, thrusting an angry hoof in the colt’s direction, “No attack spells in the house!”

“Was that a stun?” Haze asks, looking between the alicorn and his unbothered son in wonder.

“You betchya. Not a strong one, granted,” he argues, huffing in his dam’s direction, “but enough for a quick demo. A really powerful one could cause you to stumble for a few seconds,” he reminds Solar who nods in understanding.

“I’ll be sure to dodge next time,” he flatly replies, clearly exasperated at the colt’s antics.

“A wise choice,” his sire agrees.

“Yep, always better to avoid getting hit,” Cure agrees. “So you’re all set now. I’m assuming you’re heading back to Baltimare soon?”

“Afraid so,” he sighs. “I have to report to the station at seven, so I only have a few hours before I’ll be heading out. Still, I’ll be back in a few months for Hearth’s Warming, so…” he trails off, sighing again. Vines is the first to climb down and approach the colt, rearing up to wrap him in a hug. It’s only a few seconds later before the young stallion is at the center of a pile of mares squeezing him in from all sides.

Deed gives the younger stallion a respectful nod and a solid hoofbump, then Cure latches on to his side at the shoulder, half wrapping his chest and neck in another wing hug. “I’ll miss ya dude, but hay… a few months isn’t that bad. It’ll go by in no time. Now get outta here,” he insists, separating from his friend. He does his best to avoid looking in Starlight's direction as he adds, “I know you’ve got some packing to do before you leave, after all.”

Author's Note

Alright. Gonna be honest. This chapter was an absolute, complete and total slog for me to get through.

Two main reasons: First off, like every other person that has a Steam Account, it seems, I've played a (frankly) unhealthy amount of the big hit game that landed about a week and a half ago.

The second is because many times I sat down to write I got so pissed off I ended up alt-F4'ing out of my word processor. I've literally spent thousands of hours on a comedy/SoL about ponies, who only very rarely wear any clothing, and occasionally used that as a source of humor or as a contrast to the MC's memories of a human life. To see a comment asking if the story will, after all that time and work, devolve into something completely different... I can't even.

The chapter definitely suffered as a result, and I dithered back and forth between pushing back its publication for a week, but frankly, I just want to move on now. Sorry if the quality in this one is not what I typically deliver, especially in the second half.

Chapter 98: Updates and Plans

Sunday, August 23nd, 909 AB (the next morning)

Cure trots up to the door, a small carriage towed behind him and his staff laid diagonally across his withers. He moves the carriage to the side and floats out the box of doughnuts. With a couple firm raps to the door, he calls out a cheery, “Knock, knock!” and waits patiently. Despite keeping his hearing to typical levels out of respect for everypony’s privacy, the surprised exclamation from behind the door is easy to discern.

It’s only a few seconds later when the door swings open. Ferric, now almost a full head taller than the colt, smiles broadly when their eyes meet. She manages a quiet, but genuine, “Good morning, Cure,” through her surprise.

“Good morning to you, too, beautiful,” he cheerfully greets, stepping closer to nuzzle into the underside of her chin. “I brought you ‘n yer dam breakfast,” he says with a slight tilt of his head towards the box.

“Really?” she excitedly asks as the smell of freshly baked confections reach her snout. She steps back into the house, motioning to the kitchen, dining room area behind and to her left. “Come on in. We already ate, but…”

Cure accepts the invitation, brushing his left side against hers as he passes by. “But there’s always room for another doughnut or two, amirite?”

“Mmhmm!” She pushes the door shut and skips over to the stairs located just behind her, calling up to her dam. “Cure’s here! He brought us doughnuts!”

“Fresh doughnuts?!” The clomping of hooves on wood in a rushed pace sounds out as the maroon mare rounds the top of the staircase. She comes to a stop as her eyes zero in on the colt before flicking to the box hovering by his side, then back to the disguised alicorn.

Cure picks up a slight flushing of her cheeks and some hesitance as she worries her bottom lip. He can understand why; the last time the two of them interacted was right after he witnessed her getting plowed by Ferric’s sire in his downstairs bathroom. He would never dream of telling any of the other foals, but he also didn’t hesitate to make them very aware that he, along with the unicorns, couldn’t help but observe the act.

“You betchya!” he calls in answer, acting completely nonchalant despite her distress. “Grabbed ‘em up on my way over just ten minutes ago, Miss Pick! How ‘bout you come on down and have a few with us?”

The embarrassment fades, though does not completely subside as she slowly makes her way down the stairs. “That was very sweet of you, your… erm,” she starts, fumbling her words slightly as she arrives at the base of the steps.

“Cure is fine, really,” he defers, good naturedly rolling his eyes. “The only time I’ll ever insist on formalities is when I’m in disguise or on the clock. Other than that, Cure, colt, hey you, or ‘that blue nuisance’ are all varying degrees of acceptable.”

The self deprecation, slight as it is, further calms the mare who lightly chuckles and nods in acceptance. She leads the pair into the kitchen and busies herself getting napkins and drinks ready. Ferric hops up on a booster by the table with her back to the wall opposite the rest of the kitchen, freezing when realization dawns that it’s the only one available. She turns and opens her mouth, clicking it shut when the colt flashes white, doubling in size as he takes a seat on her left. He blows a quick raspberry and teases, “Now who’s taller, hmm?” while sliding the box onto the table and scooting closer so their sides are touching.

A quiet chuckle escapes the filly as she takes in his larger form. “Uh huh. For now,” she challenges, “but how long can you keep that up?”

Cure detects the hitch in Diamond’s breath at the accidentally suggestive question from her daughter. She freezes mid-motion as she’s withdrawing a carton of orange juice from the fridge, then slowly turns her head right until her wide-eyed gaze lands on the pair. He can tell from the filly’s demeanor she is oblivious of the double entendre; as bashful as she is, she would probably blush hot enough to raise the room’s temperature a few degrees if she realized the alternative meaning.

“Oh, I wouldn’t worry about that,” he dismisses with a casual wave of his hoof. “Ever since I became an alicorn I find I don’t tire nearly as quickly. I’ll grant I would eventually run out of energy if I tried to hold it too long, but I’d be ready to Enlarge myself again after a few minutes rest.”

Diamond snorts a laugh into her fetlock, fairly confident that the colt’s suggestive remark was completely intentional.

The filly cocks her head to the side in thought. “It takes me almost an hour to recharge if I drain myself all the way.”

“I can manipulate the way my body produces magic, all the way down to the cellular level. Have you noticed you recharge faster after a good meal?”

She slowly nods yes.

“That’s because your body’s energy supply is being replenished. Super sugary treats work the best, of course. If you want, I could show you, but I’ll warn ya right now that it makes you pretty hot, too. It’s like turning your metabolism up to its highest and leaving it there, so you might as well be runnin full gallop even if yer not movin at all.”

Conversation pauses momentarily when Diamond sets out napkins, three glasses, and a box of orange juice on the table and sits opposite the pair. Cure’s staff visibly glows and the baker’s box lid lifts up at the same time the orange juice box folds open and pours a glass for each of them. “I got a couple each ‘a plain glazed, chocolate, frosted cinnamon, then custard, cream, and jelly-filled with icing. Ladies first,” he insists, turning the box in Diamond’s direction.

With a quiet thanks she picks out a jelly and a chocolate as the colt continues, “So I’m sure you’re both wondering why I stopped by. I assure you, I haven’t taken a side job as a doughnut delivery pony, even if I bet I could make a killing at it.” He brings the box closer and lifts it up for Ferric to take what she would like. She takes a glazed and a frosted cinnamon one and looks at him expectantly.

“I had planned on goin to my great grandsire’s house yesterday after junior guard training, but had some unexpected ‘prince’ work tie me up. Since I couldn’t make it yesterday, we rescheduled for today. One of my great grandmas is a sword specialist, but grandpa?” He lightly nudges Ferric’s side, saying, “Apparently the maul is more his speed. I was wonderin if you might like to join me today. Get a little exer-”

“Sure!” she shouts overtop of him, bobbing her head in eager acceptance.

“Sweet! Assuming,” he looks across the table, “that’s okay with you, Miss Pick? I brought my cart just in case you’d prefer to tag along. I’m sure they won’t mind if you’d like to watch, and flying you over there wouldn’t be a problem at all.”

“Fly?” she echoes. “You’re going to fly over to Baltimare?” The question is every bit as directed towards Ferric, who is suddenly looking a little nervous, as it is towards Cure.

“Absolutely. Don’t worry about a thing,” he insists, reaching in his mane to withdraw a folded up paper. He slides it across the table within her reach.

Diamond picks up the paper, a copy of the Fillydelphia Inquirer, that’s already open to an advertisement. She begins to open her mouth to inquire why he is showing her an ad for cosmetic alterations before it dawns on her that the foal is the one who placed it.

Before she can jump to any incorrect assumptions, Cure explains, “I flew my mom - Title, that is - all the way up to Filly and back just last Tuesday to place that ad. Going a few kilometers to Baltimare is no problem at all. Hay, I could just carry her on my back like this,” he motions to his Enlarged form and spreads his normally concealed wings, growing them out to their normal proportions as he does, “if you’re okay with us going alone. I can completely guarantee her safety, easily.

“And you,” he says, facing the filly as he envelopes her in his soft, warm wing that was previously hidden, “I know you’re scared of heights.” He gently hugs her to his side and tilts his head down, nuzzling his cheek against her crown and nosing her right ear. “I would never let any harm come to you, promise.”

The filly’s movements come to a halt. Her mouth falls open and a sound like a whistling teakettle escapes her throat. Cure can’t help but chuckle as he squeezes her even tighter. “You’re just too freaking adorable,” he teases, relishing the girl’s bashfulness.

Despite Diamond’s joy at seeing her sweet little girl receiving such tender affection from a colt - an alicorn prince, at that - the heartwarming display evokes the tiniest flicker of envy in the mare’s heart. It’s smothered right away, but she still can’t help but wonder why she hasn’t found her very own stallion to hold her tight. While borrowing Onyx every so often is rather nice, the satisfaction she gets from the stallion is far from the love and companionship she desires.

Unaware of her dam’s mixed emotions, Cure does his best to accommodate the dark filly. “Seriously, though, if you’d prefer I could make ya sleep on the flight over, but I think if you can survive the first minute you’ll really enjoy yourself. My mom sure did when I flew her around the city.”

The filly’s ears pin and Cure can feel the anxiety creep across her body. “I’ll tell ya what.” He jerks his head back towards the living room and suggests, “Let’s finish eating and I’ll show you.”

“Show me?”

“Yep. Right there in the living room. I’ll show you just how easy it is for me to carry you. That way you’ll know you have nothing to fear at all.”

Diamond looks between the enlarged alicorn and her only foal with no small amount of worry. Only the colt’s ascension and assurance that he flew his mom all the way to Fillydelphia prevent her from speaking up. She also considers the fact that he, along with a squad of pegasi, flew all the way to Canterlot, apparently in only a few hours.

Logically, she knows he’s more than capable, but logic only goes so far to quell a dam’s fear for their foal’s safety. “As long as you’re sure it’s safe,” she cautions, gingerly nibbling on her sugary snack.

“One hundred percent guaranteed, Miss Pick. We’ll only be flying a few hundred meters off the ground. I have Slow Fall crystals on me, one of which I’ll strap to your daughter. I also have a Teleport crystal that will arrest momentum, so if, maker forbid, something somehow forced me out of the sky, I could just teleport us both to a couple hooves off the ground.”

He waves his hooves to stave off further discussion on the subject for the moment and insists, “Let’s enjoy our second breakfast, then I’ll show you how easy it’ll be for me to carry ya.”

The three fall into an easy silence as their sugary treats are devoured. It’s a relatively inconsequential aspect of his talent, but Cure is still grateful that he can eat whatever and whenever he wants without concern. To most foals a four or five thousand calorie day would be absurd; between his physical and magical activity that’s the bare minimum needed to keep his body fueled. Supplementing his intake or offloading excess is a simple matter that he addresses every time he hooks into his plants.

A thought occurs to him as the three are finishing up. He gives Ferric a gentle bump and asks, “Hey, just out of curiosity, have you had much opportunity to do any weaponsmithing?”

She gives a halfhearted nod. “Some speartips and knives, but nothing very complex.”

“What about unicorn darts?”

She shrugs and bobs her head responding, “Sure. Those are easy. I would just need to get some gold or silver.”

“What? Why?”

“Those darts have a thin gold or silver core running the length of them and some grip points on the back.” She gives his shoulder a nuzzle as she continues, “The books you gave me say it’s to help magic grab onto the dart since steel isn’t very magic-conductive. Having the path inside of the dart makes them easier to control. I don’t know how to bind them, though.”

“Bind them?”

“Mmhmm,” she nods. “You don’t want another unicorn to be able to manipulate them, so you have to bind them so only your own magic can flow through them freely.”

“Huh. Good to know. Say,” he murmurs, casting his gaze across the table, “do you and Mrs. Gem usually sell raw silver?”

Diamond blinks at suddenly being addressed and tilts her head in thought. “Not often. Sometimes a unicorn will want some for something, but we don’t get many around here.”

“I do a few enchanting projects here and there. Is it as expensive as gold?”

“Oh, no! Not at all,” she insists, waving the very prospect away with her hoof. “It’s barely more than a bit per gram right now. One point two, I think.”

“So about twelve hundred per kilo?”

“Just about,” she confirms with a nod.

An idea begins to form in the young alicorn’s mind; an idea that proved exceptionally effective against a lycanthropes in a movie Ed enjoyed. Mmm… Kate Beckinsale in tight leather. Yesss.

“Hmm… I may hafta stop by and pick me up some, then.” He tosses the last bite of his doughnut in his maw and washes it down with the rest of his orange juice, noting that the other two are also finished with their own. His staff flashes a few times, cleaning the glasses as well as any crumbs left behind before he gives it a twirl and slides it into his mane pocket.

A moment later the three are in the living room with Cure laid on his barrel. “Hop on up. Scoot up so yer booty is right between my wings so you can wrap your forelegs around my neck if you prefer. You won’t fall off me either way, even if I were to go upside down,” he immediately waves his forelegs in placation, assuring her, “which I will not be doing. I promise!”

Though the filly’s bashfulness is nearly palpable, she complies with his request. Once she’s in place he spreads his wings flat, thins the air on top while squeezing the air below. Without even flapping his wings he begins hovering just off the ground. “See? No problem. Now, just to warn you. When I cast Invisibility, closing your eyes won’t help.”

“What?! Why?”

“Observe,” he warns, activating his crystal.

He feels her forelegs wrap tighter around his neck and hears the sharp intake of breath. “Relax, Red. We’re not moving at all. If you’re really not okay with this we could take the train, but sooner or later this is something you’ll have to be able to do.”

“Why?!” she asks again.

He dismisses the spell and sets back down, craning his neck to look at her with his right eye. “Think about all the times I’m going to be traveling in a pegasus-pulled carriage. You, Heavy, the girls, my folks, hay… even you, Miss Pick. There is no way you’re going to be able to avoid the sky forever, and ya can’t be working yourself up when that inevitably finally comes. Besides,” he juts his bottom lip out in an exaggerated pout, “do you honestly believe I’d ever let you fall?”

The filly scowls at the blatant manipulation. She looks away and huffs in annoyance. “No,” she finally admits in a growl.

“I’m sure you’ll be fine, honey,” her dam reassures her. She gives Cure a pleading look and meekly requests, “Please be careful. No stunts or showing off, okay?”

“Not a problem,” he instantly agrees. “The last thing I want to do is make it so she never wants to go again. Just you wait, Miss Pick. I bet once you get a taste of the open sky you’ll wonder what the heck you were ever afraid of.” He cranes his neck to the side again and softly asks, “So… you up for giving this a try?”

Between the stop at the bakery, the trip to her house, the time spent having breakfast, and even more time spent convincing her to trust him, Cure is almost sure it would have been much faster to simply meet her at the station, take the train, and walk to his great grandsire’s business. He knew that would probably be the case from the start. Still, everypony in his circle is going to have to get used to flying; her, especially, due to her desire to join the guard.

Besides, flying is fucking awesome, and there’s not a safer way to experience it than from the back of an alicorn that can heal basically anything.

With the promise that Ferric would Send her dam a message upon their arrival, the two had departed under Invisibility from her backyard. Very much aware of the filly’s acrophobia, he’d kept their altitude and speed to the bare minimum. Liftoff was as gentle as he could make it also, with the pair no more than floating up into the air. His sisters had never complained, but the actuation of his flight muscles when he flapped initially startled the girl, resulting in a moment where he’s pretty sure a real pegasus would have been strangled.

The pair glided more than they “flew” over the distance between Golden Hills and Baltimare, only climbing high enough to leave a comfortable buffer between themselves and the buildings and treetops that slowly passed underneath.

Ferric calmed almost completely by the time they arrived. Cure is confident she’ll not be dreaming of soaring the open skies anytime soon, but he could tell from the minute shifting of her weight that she enjoyed looking around.

Still under the cloak of Invisibility, he lands in front of his great grandsire’s home. The gatepony gives a start but quickly calms when Prince Serpentus suddenly appears. That the young, definitely not Brick’s great grandfoal, colt brought along a filly is certainly new, though.

Taking inspiration from Luna, Cure shifted Ferric’s coat to a lovely navy, but kept her black mane and tail. The colors looked fantastic on the filly, and gave him a wild idea he may have to propose to the girls for Nightmare Night.

The pair are quickly waved through, meeting Measured Corner at the door. Cure is surprised to pick up hints of anxiety in the stallion’s scent as he approaches. A look of resignation crosses his face as he steps out of the way of the open door and lowers his head in a shallow bow. Ferric picks up on it as well, shooting Cure a questioning look out of the corner of her eyes.

He returns it with a subtle shrug and instead focuses on the stallion. “Good mornin, dude.”

“Good morning, highness, young miss,” he flatly responds. “Your gr… err… Mr. Brick is in the kitchen. Right this way.” He pushes the door shut and trots off at a quick pace, the pair following along more sedately. They only catch up to him in time to be present for the tail end of his announcement, after which the stallion about-faces and quickly departs.

Ferric watches him wander off and leans close to whisper, “Is that normal?”

“No. Not at all.” His ears pin and he fails to hide a grimace as he admits, “I may have gone too far with the teasing last time.”

The look of disappointment the sweet girl gives him stabs straight into his heart. “What’d you do?” she asks, far more sternly than he’s accustomed to from the timid filly.

“Nothing bad! I just, ya know, gave him a hard time about not playing a trumpet to announce me.”

She cocks a brow and glances back in the direction he left. “That doesn’t seem too bad.”

“... So I tried to make him blow a kazoo. And, maybe, put a silly hat on him. You know, just gave him a little ribbing. Nothing big.”

The disappointment intensifies a hundredfold. “Cure… no.” The rebuke, mild as it is, has him instinctively tuck his tail and lower his head. He briefly wonders if a rolled up newspaper is about to descend on his brow as she continues, “You always tell us not to let you act like that. Why would you do that to somepony?”

“It was just some harmless teasing! It wasn’t that bad!” he defensively insists. “We’re talking about maybe a thirty second interaction here!”

The disbelief is plain on her face as she looks in the departed servant’s direction again.

“I’ll be better,” he concedes with a sigh. “Come on.”

“Speed and control,” Brick declares, “are crucial when you’re using a heavy weapon. Either you control the weapon,” he demonstrates a few quick jabs with the top of the hammer, then a wide swing, “or the weapon controls you. Of course, unlike minotaurs and other bipeds, ponies don’t fare the best in a chest-to-chest melee, do we?”

Cure shakes his head no. “I reckon we don’t, grandpa.” He and Ferric are standing to the side paying rapt attention to the lecture. His grandparents had planned ahead and had a foal-sized replica ready for the colt. They hadn’t known to make two, so Cure let Ferric use it and, instead, extruded a wood and ceramic version for himself to use.

“Exactly,” he agrees with a firm nod. “Charges, lunges, and sweeps are our bread and butter. If your forehooves both leave the ground at the same time then you’re either delivering the finishing blow,” he pauses melodramatically, “or you can bet you’re flank you’ll be receiving one!”

The stallion rears up, cocking the hammer up over his right shoulder, and brings it down in a powerful strike, shaking the ground under the foals’ hooves from several meters away. The blow would likely end the life of anycreature unfortunate enough to be under it, likely even a large dragon. Especially if he’d flipped it around and used the cone-shaped back end instead.

Earth pony hammers are, unsurprisingly, weighted and shaped with the tribe in mind. Coming in at slightly under ten kilograms and every bit as long as a foreleg, the rather plain looking weapon would wear all but the most athletic humans out after only a minute or two of swinging. A strong earth pony like the colt’s sire could whirl the steel brick on a stick around for the better part of an hour, rest for ten minutes, and be right back in the fight.

Brick pulls the head of the mallet out of the ground where it had buried itself nearly to the grip. The look of glee the stallion wears is a little scary, but Cure just chalks it up to him enjoying his restored vitality; something only somepony that has experienced the rigors of aging can well and truly appreciate.

A sharp call from the covered porch pierces the air as Vino stands and shouts out, “DON’T YOU GO MESSING UP THE YARD!” in a ferocious warning.

Brick huffs and rolls his eyes, shouting back, “THE DAMN YARD IS FINE!”

“DON’T YOU TAKE THAT TONE WITH ME, VITA CLARION!”

The stallion’s ears flip back as he grumbles under his breath, scrunching his snout in annoyance. He lets out a huff and shoots the mare a quick glare, but still starts nudging the dirt with a forehoof to fill in the enormous divot.

“I got it grandpa,” Cure assures him, igniting his horn to fix the ground and heal up the patch of grass. A grunt of acknowledgement and a brisk nod are his only thanks. “So I gotta ask,” the alicorn begins, “how is a hammer better than something we can charge with? I saw armors with lances affixed to them. Wouldn’t that be way better for us?”

The stallion sighs, but acknowledges the point with a nod. “For most situations, yes. For ponies with a special talent like your grandma and young Ferric here, they’ll do far better than anypony else with their weapon of choice. That being said, spears and polearms are just all-around better in most situations. It’s a little different for unicorns, or for pegasi with their wing blades, but even those have some significant drawbacks, as I’m sure you’ve noticed.”

Cure nods in agreement, saying, “They do hinder mobility a little bit, especially if you’re trying to strike with them. Also, they’re really only useful for slicing with the extra reach they give. Shallow cuts aimed at wings or soft spots. That’s why we practice with boots as much as blades at training.”

“Exactly. And shallow cuts aren’t going to do much to an armored foe unless you hit a gap,” the stallion adds. “Of course, armored enemies is where a maul truly shines. A lance or halberd may skip off their armor, but the blunt head of a hammer,” he trails off, holding his hoof out to prompt the foals.

“Will still ring their bell even through the armor,” Cure finishes.

“Exactly. So,” he continues on, getting his train of thought back on the tracks, “what we’ll work on today is learning how to move at speed on three hooves, then I’ll show you both how to plan a charge so that you can pivot, but still deliver all the power into your swing. Those lessons will be useful for not only hammers, but also spears, lances, and any kind of poleaxe.

“I have to admit, I’m not sure how to apply this to flight,” he comments, staring intently at the young alicorn’s wings. “I suppose the underlying principles will be the same, but you may have more mobility if you can keep from getting clipped.”

“I can also make the hammer weigh more.”

“What? Is this an alicorn thing?”

“Pegasus aura, so kinda,” Cure answers with a shrug. “They can make things heavier instead of lighter if they try and can get the visual right.” He trots up closer and sets his hoof on Brick’s hammer, focusing on the planet’s pull yanking him down. The head dips for a split second until his great grandsire compensates.

“Interesting. If you can keep it lightened most of the time, then increase its weight on the downswing…” he trails off, frowning deeply in thought. “That just doesn’t seem fair somehow.”

“Why? ‘Cause we gotta work to get strong enough to do the same thing they can?”

“Exactly.”

“It’s not exactly the most simple thing to pull off, grandpa. The effect once you flip the mental switch isn’t instant, either. Time it wrong and, instead of landing a devastating blow, the hammer will almost bounce off your target. Of course, that doesn’t even factor in that if you were a pegasus you probably would’a died years before I got my talent. I’d say that more than makes up for it.”

“I… can’t argue that, I suppose.”

“So, you basically want us to… run? Is that right?”

“Pretty much.”

“Well… we can kinda do that whenever, grandpa. How ‘bout showing us how to block strikes or something?”

The stallion winces and shakes his head no. “Too dangerous. I’m not going to risk one of you getting hurt.” Cure fixes him with a flat look. Brick thrusts a hoof in Ferric’s direction and says, “You might be able to heal her, but I’m not explaining to anypony why their filly was hurt in the first place, and I damn sure am not going to explain to the princess how the only other alicorn in the world ended up with brain damage.”

“I’ll be fine,” Ferric quietly insists.

“What if I make lightweight hammers with a foam cover?”

Brick only ponders the suggestion for a moment before nodding. “Show me what you can make. If it’s safe enough then we can give it a try.”

Cure skips through the clouds, finding the princess already waiting for him. He thought he felt a ripple pass through him in the physical world just a moment prior; the echo of a wave from the boulder of power dropped into the otherwise still environment. That his alicorn abilities are manifesting so much faster than even the princess anticipated, while worrying, is also somewhat of a relief. While he suspects many would be afraid of possessing as much power as he may one day wield, he can only find the prospect exciting instead. The method by which his powers seem to be growing may have some concerning implications, but he doesn’t see the sense in getting worried over something that seems to work in his favor.

“Howdy, boss!” he chirps, trotting up to the princess and brushing against her right side.

“Good evening, Cure,” she returns, accepting the nuzzle on his approach. He turns around and collapses against her foreleg, only lying there a split second before she wraps it around him and hoists him up, squeezing him against her chest. The princess noses into his mane, takes a deep breath, and lets out a long sigh. “I cannot tell you how relieved I am that you are unharmed.”

The colt scoffs and rolls his eyes but, just like with his dam, wisely makes no attempt to escape. “I swear, y’all worry too friggin much.”

This time it’s the princess’s then to roll her eyes as she sets him down, draping his chest over her left foreleg thigh. “I’m sure you would be completely unconcerned if an undead monster threatened somepony you cared about.”

“Oh I don’t know if ‘worried’ is the right word. Murderous would probably be more accurate, but I’ll concede your point either way. Bottom line? The threat is gone and I’ll be more prepared if something like it ever creeps up again.”

She bumps his rump lightly with the inside of her right thigh. “You are far, far too important to take casual risks, young colt, and not just to those who know you. Our ponies, our nation, and even the world as a whole benefits from your gifts. I will not see you risking your safety unnecessarily. You will not be fighting with monsters until I deem you well prepared, and even then only when there is no other option. Is that understood?”

Cure inclines his head to meet her eyes, ready to directly confront her argument. The concern evident in her look halts the words in his throat before he can even open his mouth. He blows out a sigh and sags, leaning heavily against her. “Fiiine! I swear, somepony so big shouldn’t be allowed to use the sad puppy dog eyes.”

A harsher bump jolts the colt’s backside. “What, exactly, do you mean by ‘big,’ young colt?!”

“Oh, Tia,” he replies, deepening his voice as he sits up to wrap his forelegs around her neck in a hug. “I don’t care what everypony says. Have as much cake as you want. That only means there’s slightly more beauty in the world.”

An indignant huff blasts out the princess’s snout and she turns away. “Such a charmer.”

“I learned everything my sire had to teach me,” he solemnly agrees, sliding back down to rest between her forelegs. “Anyhow, I’ll hold off on going on some kinda vampony hunt ‘till you’re okay with it. I can wait a couple weeks or so, no problem.”

“A couple weeks?!” she exclaims.

“Yeah. When I come over there for the squads competition I’ll give ya a right proper whooping. Then you’ll be forced to acknowledge that I am not only the more adorable alicorn, but also far more dangerous combatant. I have no doubt that all further concerns about my wellbeing will be put to rest.”

The mare’s incredulity shows itself with a strangled snerk, slowly morphing into a giggle that devolves into full-blown laughter. The colt stoically sits through the indignity heaped upon him by the elder alicorn, needlessly analyzing his left forehoof wall for cracks or chips as he ignores her teasing.

“Very well,” he concedes, interrupting her jubilation. “I’ll admit that, to a certain demographic, you may be considered the more aesthetically charming between us, but that’s a class of creatures I’m not terribly interested in pandering to anyhow.”

“Yes, yes. That is definitely what I found amusing about your proposal, Cure,” she agrees, mockingly bobbing her head in an exaggerated nod.

“Good. I’m glad we’re on the same page. So, you and your advisors already have the agenda for my part of this all planned out? I know we’d talked about me coming the week before the competition, but then I think we decided I’d just travel with the Baltimare guards, so… which is it?”

“Both. A certain unit of guards in the Baltimare region mysteriously performed far, far better during their preliminary review than they have in years past.”

He inclines his head in thought, idly tapping at his chin. “Huh. That’s odd. I wonder how that could have happened.”

“It boggles the mind, truly. Regardless, as a result, they have won the honor of escorting their prince and, coincidentally, will be allowed to enjoy a few extra days off in the capital before the competition begins. Assuming that is acceptable, you will depart next Saturday evening, arrive Sunday morning, and begin screening officers and their families Monday morning.”

“Alright. I’ll just have anypony scheduled to see me at the hospital diverted to Canterlot instead. I don’t think that’ll upset anypony.”

“That has already happened, Cure. I’ve been planning this for months. I suppose I should have thought to bring it up at our meeting last week.”

“Eh, no big deal,” he assures her, brushing the issue aside with a hoof. “I know you’re busy and all. It’s easy to forget the occasional detail here and there when you’ve got a million things on your plate.”

“That is true,” she wistfully laments.

“So, circling back a bit, I’ve got a few questions about the vampires, if you don’t mind.”

“I will answer what I can.”

“Cool. So, first off, was there a corpse left or did they burn it?”

“The latter. That is standard practice so that their rot can be cleansed.”

“Why? Does it spread somehow?”

The mare hesitates momentarily before shrugging, “Honestly? I have not seen evidence that it does once they are vanquished. We have always dispatched such threats with such great fervor so as to not risk it.”

“That’s kinda disappointing, boss. I mean, I get why you maybe had to back in ye olde day, but that seems a little unnecessary anymore. Next time we find one of those things I want to scan it before we dispose of it. While it’s still alive, or animated, I suppose, would be best. That brings me to my next question… What exactly do you mean when you say they’re ‘undead?’”

The mare fails to keep the harsh edge out of her voice as she explains, “They are not alive. They do not have blood. Their hearts do not beat.” Cure feels the increasing warmth of the air as she continues on her rant. “They have no warmth or breath. They do nothing but devour life to empower themselves or to spread their vileness. They are anathema to all that lives, to the point where they cannot even bear to stand under the source of all life. They are no more alive than an infection, and must be purged from existence.”

“Huh. So, no blood?” Thankfully, his interruption turns the thermostat back down to comfortable levels.

“No. At least, not as we would recognize it. They ‘bleed’ a disgusting, black bile when pierced. The stench alone,” she shudders in disgust. “I much preferred to dispatch them with light and fire, or with mine sister’s cleansing waters when possible.”

“That does sound cleaner,” he acknowledges. “What’s silver do to them?”

“It cuts with ease where other metals struggle. Where bronze, iron, and steel will cut with force, silver slices with the barest of efforts.” Her snout scrunches in disgust as she adds, “It does little for the smell, unfortunately.”

“Just another reason to get those schnoz enhancements, boss. You can block out stinks that way.”

“There are certainly some advantages, it seems.”

“Darn right there are. So, I don’t suppose you have like… a reservoir of Luna’s water somewhere tucked away, do you?”

“No,” she sighs, her head dipping slightly. “All stores were lost during our initial confrontation. The devastation that was unleashed… Little could be salvaged.”

Cure leans to his left, nuzzling against her chest. “Sorry, Celestia. Didn’t mean to poke at an old wound. I kinda wonder if I can do something similar anyhow.”

“You believe so?”

“Ehh… maybe not yet, but you can’t have life without water. Or blood. I may have to use blood instead.”

The suggestion gives the mare pause. He feels her lean back to look directly down on him. “Cure… I do not believe flooding a suspected sanctuary of those beasts with blood would have the effect you desire, not to mention the logistic challenges of transporting, or even obtaining, sufficient quantities.”

“It may not work,” he hedges with a shrug. “But it may. It depends on how their feeding works. That’s why it’s important to capture one to study. Know thy enemy and all that. If those things are truly undead then, presumably, even my spit could melt them like Luna’s water. Next time we find one, assuming there are more out there, I would very much like it captured alive as long as it doesn’t endanger anypony. I have a couple ideas on ways to kill out that shouldn’t need direct intervention at all, but capturing? That’s a bit more difficult.”

“What methods have you devised?”

“Modified bugs filled with silver particles in water. Picture an enlarged, modified mosquito that can’t eat or reproduce and, instead of sucking blood, injects the silver instead.”

“That… is an interesting suggestion,” she hesitantly supplies. Despite her words, Cure can easily detect the tensing of her muscles at the idea.

“Yeah. Or something like those fire bugs I showed you at the range, or a version that emits ultraviolet light, assuming that’s the part of the sun’s light that harms them. I’d prefer the silver ones since silver is harmless to normal ponies. My experiments thus far have indicated fire and concentrated UV light can be harmful, so that’s a definite advantage to the first idea.”

He can feel the heat of her stare on his back, but she, unfortunately, doesn’t go for the bait. Celestia knows she made the right choice when he looks up and gives her a pout.

Sighing again, she averts her gaze and concedes, “Unsettling as the idea of swarms of modified mosquitoes may be, the idea sounds like it could be effective. If struck during their daylight slumber by a sufficiently large swarm I do not believe they would survive. At the very least they would be severely injured. My only concern would be the bugs themselves, I suppose, but if they cannot spread and would soon die off…”

He nods in acknowledgement and continues her sentence. “Then they’ll either find their targets or end up as food for something else. I figured they can be a second wave anyhow. I’m not keen on the idea of wasting a bunch of silver, and even if it is harmless I don’t want bugs swarming anypony by mistake. The first line of bugs can be scouts that scent the things out and mark valid targets. That’ll give us an opportunity to verify them before progressing.”

The princess quietly takes the suggestion in, considering the prospect of unleashing such an attack. “While nothing immediately jumps out as problematic, I believe some caution would be warranted. Would you object to submitting batches of the bugs you are proposing for testing? I do not wish to sound as if I doubt your ability, Cure -”

“No, really, I get it. It’s fine,” he assures her, reaching up to nose at her throat. “I’d be a little leery of somepony saying, ‘Hey, I’ve got the solution right here! Hundreds of thousands of bugs!’ Frankly, if you’d said, ‘Sure, dude, go to town,’ I’d probably be a smidge concerned. For more than one reason.”

“That would be somewhat unusual, I suppose.”

“I’ll just bring the samples with me when I come. Boxes and boxes of them… right to the castle. You and me will take a day or two to go through them. We’ll talk about likes and dislikes, build a couple bugs just for fun, then I’ll have a few thousand land on you just to show you they won’t bother a pony, and then we’ll go from there. Sound good?”

A shudder passes through the mare as she violently shakes her head. “No. Aside from the first sentence, none of that sounds good at all. I am not joking, Cure. If I find you sneaking boxes full of bugs into the castle then we will have words.”

He cranes his neck to look up at the princess with wide-eyed astonishment and exclaims, “Holy fudge, boss! First you dote on me over the big bad puppy-leech, then you forbid me from fightin ‘em, now yer sayin no bugs in the house!” He pokes her chest with the tip of his wing, asking, “Are you and my dam trading notes or somethin?! You sound just like her!”

To the colt’s dismay, rather than a witty retort, the princess lights up at the idea, once again pinning him against her chest in a tight embrace. “I had not considered that before! That is a wonderful idea, Cure! I will start corresponding with your dam weekly as well, that way I can ensure that we are both on the same page in regards to your troublesome behavior.”

“Great,” he deadpans. “I’m so glad I suggested it.” He tilts his head in consideration and gives a helpless shrug. “Seriously, I’m sure she’ll be thrilled. I can’t say I’m super pumped about the idea of y’all conspirin behind my rear, but whatever. Both of ya could use more friends.”

“Indeed. I firmly believe one can never have too many.”

He rolls to his right, flopping on his side to look up at her. “Speaking of frieeeends,” he teases, giving her an expectant look, “did Sunny Skies find her wayward Comet?”

Though her mask is nearly infallible, Cure can easily detect the slight upturn at the corners of her mouth. His smug grin widens, prompting the mare to abandon her attempt at stoicism, instead nearly glowing with excitement. “She did!” she happily declares, nearly vibrating with excitement. “And it was the Sending crystal idea that did the trick.”

She starts the story with a giggle, saying, “He said it was the first time anypony has ever sent him a message via one and it nearly caused him to crash! Apparently he received the message just as he was landing. The sudden, unexpected voice in his head caused him to reel in surprise.”

“OOoooh. Did you put on a cute little outfit and nurse him back to health?” The colt can’t help himself. Just like it did when he was working in the hospital, his mind supplies a picture of the princess in a tight, white and pink outfit with a cross on her chest and a tiny, cute cap on her head. He glances to his side and wonders if pink stockings wrapping her legs would add or detract from the overall look.

“Cure,” she sharply calls, pulling him out of his reverie. A quick check confirms that, at least physically, he didn’t show any signs of reaction, thank the heavens. “While some mares may be flattered at receiving such a look, I find it exceedingly discomforting coming from such a young foal.”

He winces at the admonishment and nods in acceptance. “Sorry, boss. I’d say it won’t happen again, but… well, I promised I’d never lie to ya. I can sympathize!” he rushes to explain. “I definitely get those looks too, but, well, I haven’t had to put up with it for a thousand years, so it’s still sort of a novel experience for me.”

She sighs and softly requests, “Please try to be more mindful. I cannot imagine the rumors that would begin to fly should somepony unaware of your situation observe such an expression on somepony your age.”

He scoffs, pointing out, “I’m a male alicorn, boss. They’d probably throw a freaking parade. I bet a few dozen ponies outright cheered when they saw me go out with the girls just out of relief that I’m straight.”

The mare deflates slightly at the reminder, but begrudgingly nods. “True, I suppose. Still,” she gives him a pitiable look, “try for my sake, at least?”

“Of course. I already said I would try. I ain’t a miracle worker,” he insists. She cocks a brow and gives him a knowing look. “Well, not that kind of miracle, at least. Sure, I can do a bunch of crazy stuff, but that’s a whole lot easier than not ‘mirin on a pretty lady. So stop delaying… you found yer dude, right?”

She nods.

“Great!” he cheers. “Please don’t tell me he has like three wives already and was out hunting for number four.”

“Not as such, no. He is not married, but he does have another mare that he’s been in a relationship with for a few months.”

“Yeah? Is that a deal breaker for you?”

“No,” she immediately replies. “I have very little hope of ever finding a stallion that is not in some kind of relationship already. With there being so few, the odds simply do not allow for such things. Perhaps if he were a unicorn, but the odds of finding an unspoken for unicorn stallion in Canterlot are slim indeed.”

“Not unless the dude has something wrong with him, I suspect,” Cure agrees. “At least for now. If we can get the sexes leveled out in a few decades, but… why wait?”

“Precisely.”

“So… are you going to pursue him? I’m assuming he didn’t tell you to go away. A pretty, single pegasus that works at the palace is, objectively, a pretty good catch.”

She nods in agreement. “Positions at the castle are quite prestigious. The initial meeting with them went well, and I am hopeful that things will continue to do so, but I do not need to tell you; relationships are complicated, even moreso when multiple ponies are involved.”

“Don’t I know it,” he commiserates. “I took Ferric with me to my great grandsire’s earlier. I feel guilty at times; I hang out with Dawn a lot, I go flying with Glacial and Drift at least a few times a week, but I almost never do anything with just Rising or Ferric by themselves. At least RP is there with Dawn, and usually Coast, a lot of the time I’m hanging out with her, but Ferric? With both of us workin I don’t see her as much, and almost never alone.”

“Have you considered making an effort to visit her during your lunch?”

“No,” he confesses, “not really. I usually am either rushing to the store, having just eaten at the hospital, or I’m seeing my last few patients at my business during the lunch hour. I suppose I should make more of an effort, huh?”

“I am sure she would appreciate it very much if you did.”

“Yeah. You’re right. She was quiet today, which is normal for her, but she still seemed to really enjoy herself. I’ll start doing that, at least on Tuesdays and Thursdays.” He motions to her with his snout and asks, “So, when are you planning on meeting up with them again? Friday?”

“Exactly.”

Cure had hoped for a few details, but it’s really not his business. Instead, he accepts the answer for what it is and lets the issue die. “Cool. I’m real proud of ya boss. I hope it all works out.”

She sighs and hangs her head. “I am not terribly optimistic. While Sunny is, as you said, a ‘good catch,’ the fact is that I cannot give him the one thing that many young stallions will hope for above all others.”

Cure nearly shoots to his hooves, pressing his side firmly against her chest and his head and neck against her much longer one. “None of that,” he sternly warns. “Even now there are ways I could come up with for you to, in a way, carry a foal by a typical pony. It wouldn’t be, biologically, your foal, but it is possible. Besides, plenty of ponies are in relationships where one or the other cannot have foals, or they don’t want any. You don’t need to start doing the whole ‘I’m going to look for reasons to be down’ thing. If it works out, great. If not, have some fun, release some of that stress you carry all the time, and move on.

“I have a hard time believing anypony would consider you, the wonderful mare that you are, not good enough to be in a relationship with.” He pokes her in the chest, insisting, “Don’t focus on the one thing you can’t do. If that’s all he cares about then he isn’t worth your time anyhow.”

A moment passes in silence before the mare slowly nods in acceptance. “You are right, of course. This is not new to me, either. In our youths, and even clear into the early years of the united Equestria, it was alleged that Luna and I were cursed beings. It had far more of an impact on her than I. After all, what kind of curse would allow one to raise the sun by themselves?

“Regardless, ponies took note when we failed to produce foals regardless of our mate. That they continued to age while we remained the same... rumors arose numerous times over the years that we were, in fact, some form of vampony as well. Several griffons and zebras, in particular, accused us of devouring the essence of our lovers to prolong our own existence. I do not believe the accusations were truly believed, even by those leveling them, but repeatedly catching wind of them for hundreds of years... it takes a toll.”

“Yeesh. Dunno how y’all never lost your cool on ‘em. I’m pretty sure I don’t have that kind of patience, boss.”

“It grows with age. We did not at first, either. As much as I would like to claim my patience for foolishness was always, or currently is, limitless, both Luna and I occasionally responded poorly to the accusation. While we were able to suppress the urge to use violence, there were several times when it was a near thing.”

“So what you’re saying is that eventually somecreature is going to say something funky enough to me that I’m going to want to hurt them.”

“Almost certainly.”

“And I’m not allowed to switch which side of their body their head and butthole are on?”

A snort escapes the princess who then devolves into giggles. “I am afraid not, Cure.”

“Why not? Can you imagine how hilarious it would be to see a griffon soaring through the air ass first while craning their neck to see where they’re going?” He projects an illusion of exactly that and includes a bizarre whistling noise from the air blasting into the misplaced orifice. He watches as it flies in front of the pair and whispering in faux awe, “Behold the noffirg! Such a majestic creature! Shame it can’t sneak up on prey nearly as well.”

The princess’s eyes widen comically and she bursts into laughter, wrapping her forelegs around the silly colt as she shakes in mirth. “Please, please, do not do that! As humorous as the notion is, I believe Griffonstone would respond quite poorly should one of their citizens arrive in such a state.”

“I’ll tell ya what,” he says, sliding back down upon being released, “since you asked so nicely, I’ll do my best to resist the urge. All I ask in return is that you have what fun ya can in the meantime, okay?”

A genuine smile graces her features as she nods in acceptance. “I will.”

“Great! So… next topic for the ‘ol agenda -”

“There’s an agenda?”

“Just the one in my noggin. So I don’t know if you’re aware, but me ‘n momma Title flew on up to Filly on Tuesday.”

“I was made aware of the ad you placed in the Inquirer,” she confirms.

Cure waits a moment to see if she mentions the police encounter. When she doesn’t, he decides it best to fill her in himself. The truth, he figures, will eventually come out one way or another. At least if he’s the one making her aware then he won’t appear as if he’s trying to deceive her. Besides, nopony in a management position likes to be blindsided with crap one of their employees tried to get away with.

“Good. Yeah, I rented a stall to sell my services at the market on September 19th, then put an ad in the Inquirer about it. Just so you’re aware, we had a bit of a run-in with the local police at the Market’s offices when we went to leave.”

“What kind of ‘run-in,’ exactly?” she warily inquires.

“Really?” he huffs, “The whole thing was kind of stupid. I made a cart to pull my mom in, right?”

“Okay?”

“I wasn’t running a freaking taxi service. We’re talking our own private use here, okay?

“Of course,” she agrees, nodding along.

“The cop was saying we needed a license to act as a cab.”

“Oh. That should have been an easy misunderstanding to clear up, though.”

“It would have been, but then she started questioning why a healthy earth pony mare needed her nine year old foal to pull her around in a cart.”

“Ah. A reasonable question.”

“It was,” he grants. “But then she asked mom where I’d towed her from.”

Celestia facehooves. “She said Baltimare,” she correctly guesses.

Cure nods in confirmation. “She said Baltimare.”

The princess hangs her head. She notices the soft, warm pillow underneath her and opts to accept the invitation for what it’s worth, heavily collapsing on the colt who takes her head and neck’s weight with aplomb. “I know I should be thrilled that my little ponies are so terrible at deception, but just this once could she not have simply named a nearby hotel?”

Cure’s forelegs instinctively wrap around the mare’s neck just behind her jaw as he lets out a sympathetic sigh. “It probably wouldn’t have mattered. Like you said, ponies absolutely suck at lying, even when y’all try. That’s when I had to step in.”

“Please tell me you did not threaten them,” she almost begs.

“No. Not as such. I created, then Teleported a note to them,” he answers, projecting an Illusion of the note, verbatim, just in front of her, “then briefly displayed my new cutie mark and made my eyes go gold like my Serpentus disguise.”

Celestia reads over the note, scrunching her snout in a slight grimace. “The tone of the note strikes me as rather aggressive, Cure.”

“Maybe, but in the context of the grand prince of Equestria addressing a couple municipal patrol officers, I figured there would be at least some expectation that I would be assertive. Perhaps even a bit authoritative. I really only had three options, as best I can tell. I could have allowed the situation to devolve and ended up at the police station where I would have either had to reveal my identity anyhow or get Marquis Merryland involved to clear everything up, which would have raised its own questions.”

She nods in acceptance as he continues, “I could have done that,” he inclines his head to the projected note before dispelling it, “or, and I didn’t seriously consider this as a valid option, I could have knocked them out. Or stunned them, I guess.”

“I am relieved you did not choose the latter of those three.”

“I figured you would be,” he agrees with a chuckle. “It would be a disaster once my identity is released. ‘Prince Pounces on Police - Patrol Ponies Paralyzed, Panicking Passing Pedestrians!’”

The princess full-on guffaws at the headline, nodding in approval. “They do so enjoy their alliteration! Oh, Cure…” she sighs, still giggling. “For the record, I would ask that you avoid attacking our little ponies unless absolutely necessary. While I am inclined to say the situation could have best been dealt with at the precinct office, the end result would likely have been the same, though with more witnesses to your identity.”

“My thoughts exactly. I also Sent a message to Merryland asking him to send somepony to talk to the cops so they would know it really was legit. I have no way of knowing if he did or not, but I could feel the Sending fire off, so I’m confident he got the message.”

“Very well. I believe it may be prudent if I inquire with the marquis whether that happened or not. At the very least it will assure him that it was a simple misunderstanding, and not an attempt on your part to abuse your authority.”

“Sounds good to me. I was honestly wondering if you already knew. Given my interactions with him before the whole smoke letter thing, I suspected he may not take kindly to me silencing the cops like that.”

She tilts her head to the side, humming in thought. The act sends a tingly vibration through her throat and against his chest. “I do not believe he would do that. If he were truly concerned about such a thing then he would likely bring it to the attention of Duke Suncrest. I would only expect to hear from him directly if your actions were so egregious as to warrant an immediate response.”

“Ah… chain of command stuff, basically?”

“Precisely. Despite your past assumptions, I do not, I could not, possibly manage every little thing that happens in the nation. With something so trivial?” she shrugs and shakes her head. “I would not expect him to even bother informing the duke. After all, no crime was actually committed, correct?”

“Not unless me forging a license plate number when I was leaving counts.”

“Oh yes,” she teasingly nods, “such a wanton abuse of authority. Surely you are the greatest threat to the safety and prosperity of Fillydelphia’s citizens that has ever existed.”

“Yep. That’s how every criminal mastermind starts. First they’re making fake license plates, next thing you know they’re burning down orphanages and whatnot. It’s a real slippery slope, that one.”

“Indeed.”

“One thing did come up during that trip that I wanted to follow up with you on.”

“Hmm?”

“I made a comment to my mom about a cheesecake restaurant I remember going to before.” She easily catches the emphasis and nods in understanding. “I commented that perhaps said restaurant exists on the other side of the mirror. It dawned on me that I haven’t asked you about that whole thing in a while.”

She sighs again and rolls to her left, carrying the colt with her as she rolls to her back. Cure ends up scooted down, half on her chest and still embracing her neck, though closer to the center. He can’t help but notice how, even halfway folded, her long hind legs still seem to tower into the air far behind him. Her head is barely closer; with her long neck stretched before him and her head resting flat on the cloudy surface, regardless of her horn, it feels like he’s a foal lying in the center of a king-sized mattress. It strikes him that, in many ways, the analogy is more apt than he initially considered. As she had, he takes the opportunity to sprawl out, stretching his hind legs and wings as much as he can while wrapped in her embrace.

The brief pause is interrupted when she begins, “I have had little opportunity to examine the mirror, unfortunately, but I have made some progress in understanding the mechanics of how it accomplishes its various functions. More significantly, I was able to trace the path that the portal takes through the dimensional membrane.”

“Yeah? How?”

Her wings shrug against the ethereal surface as she explains, “The method was relatively simple. I only needed to send a tracker similar to the one in your regalia.” Cure jerks his head up in alarm, an action that she fully anticipated. “Worry not. I took heed of your warning in regards to the sirens. If they were able to detect the magic at all then it would do them little good. The tracker annihilated itself upon completion of its task. Any magic, minute as it would have been, would have dissipated with its dust within seconds.”

He slowly releases the breath he’d taken in as he relaxes back down into her fluff. “Good thinkin, boss. Hopefully that’s good enough to throw them off, but I’m still concerned they would just set up camp on the other side and wait. I mean… they only have to hang out there for a day or two every three months, right?”

“Perhaps, but perhaps not. Though I would need to determine a method of doing so, there is no reason I can fathom that the mirror cannot be directly fed power. While the energy consumption is significant, there is no need for it to happen all at once. Truthfully, the method the mirror seems to use is incredibly wasteful.

“While it does take slightly over three months to gain sufficient reserves, nearly all of that magic is radiated back out into the environment upon the discontinuation of the portal. It appears to create a reservoir, if you will, so that a small, but significant number of beings can safely traverse the divide. If few or, as frequently occurs, no creatures pass through then the gathered magic simply goes to waste with only the barest fraction being recovered.”

“So… it charges up, activates, and, if nopony uses it, blasts the gathered magic out as exhaust?”

“Essentially, yes.”

“So how much juice does it take? We talkin sun-raising levels here or what?”

“A fair amount more than the energy required to perform the celestial rituals. A small team of powerful unicorns could sufficiently charge it if that were the only hurdle.”

“Or an alicorn could do it by themselves?” he leadingly asks.

“Yes. Not all at once, hence the other hurdle. The charging array is insufficiently robust to absorb that level of input without risk. It is possible that I may be able to further reinforce it, but as it stands, it would be unsafe to force too much magic into it. Instead of opening once every three months, I estimate it could be sufficiently empowered every four weeks with no additional risk.” She twists her neck to the left and inclines her head slightly and looks over the colt, finding no significant reaction to the news. “I hope I do not have reason to be concerned regarding your inquiries.”

“If you’re askin if I’ve changed my mind about going through then no. Especially not if I would be turned into a human. If I wanted to do that I could have already done so pretty easily. I’m just thinking about trade opportunities and whatnot. Also, I can’t deny that I’m a little curious about whether there’s a Cure Wave over there and, if so, how similar our situations are.”

“That,” she slowly begins, “is not something I had considered.”

“Yeah. I mean, I don’t know how it works, exactly, but I’m not sure which would be more bizarre: finding out my doppelganger doesn’t exist, finding him but he’s a typical kid, or finding him and learning he isn’t.”

“I can sympathize. Truly, the whole scenario as you described it is exceedingly strange. I do not know how to feel about there possibly being another version of myself there. Let alone a different Luna. One that is still present.” Cure feels the princess’s embrace slacken at the mention of her sister.

He tightens his wing hug around the princess’s barrel, offering what comfort he can. Celestia gives him a small squeeze and ends their brief moment of silence. “I believe the next step will be to attempt to scry what lies on the other side. I know what you expect to find, but I could never forgive myself if I inadvertently sent somepony to their demise.”

He tilts his head and lets out a thoughtful noise. “I guess I hadn’t considered that the portal could open somewhere dangerous.”

“It is possible. The tracker was able to manifest and was not instantly destroyed, so we can assume it is not buried underground or what have you. That does not necessarily mean the environment near the exit is otherwise habitable.”

“Good call, boss. You know, I could make a critter that goes through the portal, takes samples of the air and whatnot, then comes right back. I’m worried what the mirror would turn it into, though.” A thought occurs to the colt as he asks, “Can you disable the spell altering somepony’s body?”

“Perhaps not disable, but shielding somepony from external influences should be a simple matter.”

“And it won’t cause the portal any issues?”

“It should not, no. The portal acts as a conduit to the other world. The spell is applied to a traveler as soon as one enters from either direction, so it has no impact on the tunnel itself, just as it had no impact on the crystal I used for my beacon.”

“So… it wouldn’t have an impact on crystals at all? What about compressed storage bags?”

“Again, there should not be any interference. While its origins are magical, the tunnel itself acts as a physical bridge. I would expect that storage bags should be unaffected by the journey.”

“Something to test, then,” he muses. “So step one is to check what’s on the other side and ensure it’s safe to travel, then maybe send a small recon group?” She nods in agreement. “Then what?”

“It will depend upon what we find. If we find civilization, then we will likely attempt diplomacy. Perhaps not immediately, but the ultimate goal should be one of cooperation. I assume you believe that to be possible, correct?”

“Oh yeah, definitely. If what I’ve talked about is right we could have a lot to offer. Of course, that could swing either way depending on what we find.”

“Naturally,” she agrees. “I will take steps to create a source from which the mirror can more quickly accrue energy. Otherwise, it should be ready to open naturally around November 4th.”

The colt’s snout scrunches in annoyance at the date. “I’ll be busy then,” he sullenly grouses. The princess raises her head to look down at him, cocking a single brow in question. “My parents’ ten year anniversary is the first. I’ll be busy that whole week. Stallion of the house, ya know. Won’t have time to go gallivanting away for a few days, so I’ll just have to wait until I hear from you the following Sunday.”

“Very well,” she accepts, resting her head back on the cloud surface. A moment of silence passes between the pair. Cure feels the princess’s chest rise as she takes a deep breath, slowly blowing it out through her nose. He takes the opportunity to turn his head and gently run his cheek through the mare’s soft coat, basking in her warmth and sweet, fruity scent. A yawn escapes him before he has the chance to suppress it. “I doubt you have been made aware,” she begins, pulling him from his stupor, “but Lady Bush accepted a plea bargain. I was informed that your testimony, while perhaps not the deciding factor, played no small part in her attorney’s insistence that she accept.”

“Oh yeah? It’s not a slap on the fetlock, I hope?”

“No. The prosecution was quite certain of her guilt for the incident you witnessed, but with little evidence of past batteries against her husband, she elected to not prosecute those offenses in exchange for one guilty plea. She will serve a couple months in a corrective facility, and she will still answer to me.”

“Good. What about Mr. Flourish?”

“I understand he is doing well, as are the foals. At least, as well as they could under the circumstances. You performed marvelously on the stand, Cure,” she praises, giving him a small squeeze. “Though I heard more than one pony wonder aloud why you required such a heavy escort.”

“I was advised that having three ponies by my side is protocol, and if they were busy giving testimony, then they weren’t by my side.”

She turns her neck to the side to give him a dubious look out of the corner of her right eye.

“... and I thought maybe it would be a good reminder that ponies can’t bully me like I’m some dumb foal. Don’t act all innocent - I ascribe at least thirty percent of the blame to you.”

Her head tilts more to show her incredulity.

“You’re the one who said they should be thanking me for coming at all!” he insists.

The princess’s look does not change as she continues staring.

He snorts and turns away. “Quiet, you,” he mildly grumbles.

“Cuuuuuure?” she lightly calls, drawing out his name in a sing-song.

He turns further away, facing to his right almost completely away from her big, dumb look.

In a patronizing tone, she asks, “Did somepony challenge your authority?”

“Yes!” he exclaims, whipping his head back to face her. “They sent me a ‘You are hereby commanded to appear’ letter like I’m some commoner, then scheduled my testimony for right towards the beginning of my shift at the hospital!”

“How dare they!” she exclaims.

“I know, right?!”

“The nerve! It absolutely galls, does it not?!”

“Damn right it does!” he agrees, throwing both forehooves into the air. “They’re lucky I’m a benevolent… umm.. Diarch? I guess? That’s not right, is it?”

The princess giggles and shakes her head no. “Not exactly. I believe monarchy is still correct.” A note of hope slips into her voice and her grin widens as she asks, “Unless you are offering, that is?”

“Fudge that!” he shouts with a scoff. He frowns and furrows his brow at her, thrusting a hoof in her direction, “And don’t give me that pout! Check again in fifty years or so and maybe,” her face lights up and tail swishes happily, “MAYBE!” he emphasizes as her pout resumes, “we’ll talk.

“Either way, I had over two dozen ponies… well, creatures, waiting for me at the hospital. I’m all for showin the courts their due respect and whatnot, but if somepony thought they could get their rocks off telling the new prince where and when to be somewhere, damn anypony else it inconveniences, then they can kiss my toned, fuzzy ass.”

“Good,” she agrees with an approving nod. “Never let them push you around, Cure. You cannot show weakness. Unfortunately, ponies and other creatures will rarely pass on an opportunity to test your resolve. I almost look forward to the day that the griffons or dragons seek to test you,” she comments with a mischievous chuckle. Her laughter stops abruptly and she cranes her neck up to look at him, “So long as you can refrain from abusing your talent, I suppose.”

“I’ll do my best.”

Her eyes widen and she snorts in laughter, “Oh goodness - the yaks! By my sun, they are absolutely maddening to put up with. Oh, and speaking of foreign relations, we received word that the new ambassador from Minos has been selected and is on his way.”

“Yeah?”

“Mmhmm. Gaelan Wildwood. Unlike many high-placed individuals in the nation, he is well known to us. He is a reformist with a reputation of advocating for the spread of education amongst the minotaur tribes. I would expect that you and he should get along fairly well, as he is generally accepted to be pleasant and professional, if somewhat boring, according to our reports.”

Cure nods and gives a noncommittal shrug. “It sounds like it. Of course, I’m assuming the other dude didn’t have a reputation for suggesting other nations ‘purge’ their young, newly appointed royals.”

“He did not,” she confirms. “Ambassador Wildwood was likely selected to appease those unhappy with Quickhorn’s behavior. That they quietly appointed the former ambassador as a trade advisor to the high chief indicates that perhaps our standing with the minotaurs is not as prominent as we had come to expect. Wildwood’s appointment may be a form of recompense to offset Quickhorn’s lack of punishment since his opinion of Equestria is mostly positive.”

“You know he’s a spy, right?” Cure immediately questions.

Celestia laughs and nods. “All ambassadors are spies to some degree, Cure. It is simply part of the position. Of course,” she meets his eye, “every ambassador will insist that they are not spies, but then, that is exactly what a spy would say, is it not?”

“Sure, whatever,” he shrugs again. “As long as he doesn’t shout for my head to be mounted on a pike then I don’t really care. Then again, that would be a hell of a show of power, wouldn’t it?”

“Excuse me?”

“We’d talked about it before with the zebras. You may not remember because we didn’t really discuss it at length; more like we were just joking about it. We talked about a few variations, but the idea is that I walk right up to their embassy, shove a spear in the ground, rip my own head off, impale it on the spear, regrow a new one, and walk away.”

The princess looks on in horror as he details the idea. One one hoof, she has to concede; the act would be equal parts terrifying and humbling. Confounding, as well, as the zebras or minotaurs would likely be so bewildered as to not completely understand exactly what the colt is telling them. One part of the message, she is certain, would be heard above all others; There is nothing in your arsenal that can directly hurt me.

“Don’t look at me like that,” he insists, rolling his eyes at the mare. “It’s not like I would ever do it.”

“I should hope not!” she exclaims.

“Of course not. First and foremost, my dam said not to. Other than that, it would give away too much information to my enemies. I’d rather they not know how tough I am, otherwise they may target those around me instead. Any would-be assassins would be much easier to deal with as long as they’re coming for me instead of my family and friends.”

She growls between clenched teeth, “That is not what I meant, Cure.”

“I know, I know,” he says, fanning a hoof placatingly. “Like I said, it was just something dark and humorous I joked with my family about. Needless to say, if somecreature actually removes my head from my neck I will very quickly make my displeasure with them known.”

The elder alicorn lies back down, flat on the cloudy surface. “Another alicorn ascends and he is completely insane. Just my luck,” she quietly laments.

“You know my opinion on sanity, boss. The only thing rarer than an alicorn is a creature that’s completely sane. Your odds of getting both in one package were always nil, sorry to say.”

She doesn’t verbally respond right away, choosing instead to grumble under her breath.

“Moving on,” he declares, prodding at her chest with his hoof. “I want to start making money as Prince Serpentus.”

“Seriously?!” she wails, rolling both of them over so she’s back on top. “Are you part dragon?! Between the tax insanity, your business ideas -”

“For charity, boss!” he shouts, interrupting her.

She stops her rant at once and looks down at him to elaborate.

“I want to start amassing funds for Prince Serpentus to use for charitable pursuits. One thing I talked about is, some day, having a school like your own.”

“Oh.”

“Yeah, ‘Oh,’” he huffs. “Jumpin to conclusions much?”

“I feel it was warranted,” she defensively declares.

“Uh huh. So anyhow, there’s a whole bunch of things I can come up with that are a little more on the ‘Serpentus’ end of the spectrum than I would want my real name attached to. Vitamins, health supplements, weight loss pills, treatments for minor things that wouldn’t warrant a trip to the clinic; the list goes on. I don’t want to cause the pharmaceutical industry any more headaches than I already have, but there’s a lot I could be doing that could be monetized without feeling guilty about it.”

The princess, slowly nodding along, finally speaks up in agreement. “Those are all excellent ideas. Anything you develop that you would like to be sold under your royal brand need only be submitted much as you have your other products. You could deliver them either to the hospital as you have, or you could take them directly to Base Carol.” She shrugs and adds, “Or to your local garrison, if you prefer. Ultimately they will all end up here where they can be tested to ensure their safety before being produced for distribution.”

“Cool. I’ll probably hoof anything I come up with over to Dr. Care, then, assuming she’s available. Or I’ll just ask Specialist Strafe to run it to the base if not.”

“Either would be perfectly fine.”

“Awesome.”

“I have a question.”

“Sup?”

“You speak frequently of magic, and I am aware you have no need for further education regarding your earth pony abilities. How fares your progress with weather manipulation?”

The colt’s muzzle twists to the side as he looks away.

“Cure?”

“What?” he grumps.

“You have not once made mention of your lessons. Am I to assume you have not yet begun?”

The colt grumbles and rolls over, poking at the cloud surface as he quietly curses. “No.” He cocks his head to the side. “Err… wait. Yes? Your wording is weird. I haven’t started learning anything yet.”

“Why?” she patiently asks.

“I’ve been busy.”

“I cannot dispute that,” she serenely agrees. “Would you like for me to assign an instructor?”

“No. I’ll just ask Mr. Rain if he can show me the basics. I don’t think he’ll mind. I mean, I did give his wife twins, after all.”

A strangled snort escapes the elder alicorn which quickly morphs into quiet laughter. “That was exceedingly generous of you, Cure,” she manages between chuckles.

“You’re not joking! I had to do both her and Mrs. Dance one right after the other! At least they had the decency to make me dinner first.”

Still fighting back giggles, the princess shakes her head in disbelief. “I can only hope you choose different phrasing in future retellings.”

“Why would I do that?” he innocently wonders.

She pokes him in his hip with her fetlock. “Mental maturity aside, you are entirely too young to get away with saying such things.”

He rolls his entire neck and head, whining, “Alriiight, fiiine! I’ll be good.”

“I would very much appreciate it if you could. You would not want anypony expressing concerns about your upbringing, would you?”

The colt can’t hide the wince from that. Ponies making assumptions about his own behavior is one thing; his parents’ appropriateness being questioned is not something he can allow. “Okay! Point made. I don’t see that happening what with the whole ascension thing, but I get it. I’ll try acting more my age.”

“I am glad to hear that. I am not expecting you to be an expert, but please try to get at least the very basics of weather manipulation started as soon as you can.”

“I will. I bet the girls can give me the basics if he’s busy. I’ll send them a message when I leave.”

“Very well.” He feels her chest expand against his rump as she takes a deep breath. “I am hesitant to bring this up, knowing that the topic, and my reaction in particular, upset you, but I wanted to assure you that I have taken action to correct my mistake. Chancellor Valor and Director Storm have shifted their teams’ primary focus back to your antiviral trees.”

The colt’s ears instinctively pin back in annoyance at the reminder. “Worry not,” she assured him, leaning down to nuzzle into his mane, “our little ponies will not suffer due to my negligence. Even though it would take too long for them to be fully vetted, hospitals will be allowed to prescribe the medicine under the care and supervision of medical staff on an emergency basis, much as was done with the Origin Trees during their initial distribution.”

He sucks a large gulp of air in and exhales quickly through his nose, then gives a shallow nod in acceptance. “Good. That’s good,” he tersely repeats. More calmly he begins, “Sorry for kinda exploding on you -”

“No. I was in the wrong, Cure, and I am sorry.” She scoots her barrel back, laying flat so her neck is on his back and her much larger head rests on his, trapping him in a hug between her forelegs. “We were so focused on addressing the challenge that has plagued our kind forever that we failed to prioritize an available solution to a more immediate, yet, in many ways, more dire problem. Never hesitate to speak your mind when we are alone. It was the right thing to do, and I am very thankful that you have the courage to say something when you discover that we had made a mistake.”

The tension in his body dissipates at her apology. He tells himself that she’s not perfect; a fact he’s pointed out more than once and she has readily admitted. “I understand,” he finally concedes. “Apology accepted, Tia.” He twists his neck and nuzzles into her jaw with his cheek. “I could have responded better, even if I was upset. We’ll be working together for a long, long time. I can’t let my temper get the better of me, even when we’re talking about something so important to me.”

“And I will do my best not to let you frustrate me as well. Difficult as that will no doubt be at times,” she ruefully retorts.

The princess’s quip gets a chuckle from the colt as he bobs his head in agreement, brushing against her all the more. “Funny, I was just thinking how I was lookin forward to seein ya again. Should I take that as a challenge?”

“Would it truly matter if I said no?”

“Nope!”

“I thought as much,” she admits, sinking more fully on him. The two simply snuggle for a moment until another yawn escapes the colt. “I suppose it’s time for all the little colts and fillies to get ready for bed.”

“I suppose so,” he sighs. He leans in hard for one last nuzzle. “Goodnight, Celestia. I am excited to see you again.” He pauses. “You know… for reals and whatnot.”

“And I will look forward to your safe arrival. Goodnight, Cure Wave.”

Author's Note

Alrighty, so... lots of updates in this chapter. First thing - I totally botched the whole travel arrangement thing. I suppose that's the result of not having a buffer like I used to. I'll tell ya - every since this whole move thing my free time to write has taken a major dump. I keep thinking everything should normalize sooner or later, but things just Keep. Popping. Up.

As I keep saying - hopefully soon the issues with the new place will chill out a bit. Both for my sanity and my wallet.

I've seen more than a few comments recently - and have gotten some PMs - asking about when a time skip will occur. As I've said a million times, time skips will occur naturally when there isn't something going on. Just look at it this way - If I start skipping things then there's no going back. Flashbacks are an option, but I've said more than once that they're not a method of storytelling I prefer. If I skip "Cure from age 10 to 12" then those years are gone. Past. To the reader they didn't happen. For all of you wondering when we'll get to the start of FiM, then the answer is "not for a while."

That said, this year in-story has been way, way, WAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAY longer than I expected it to be. That's largely due to the way Cure ascended and all of the new bullshit he's had to put up with as a result. The opportunity was just too perfect to pass up, though. He'd just done something amazing - more or less hoofed over the fix for the gender imbalance that he developed with his talent, which he had been sharing freely. He had a blast of power tear through him while pseudo-using the powers of the Elements to encourage life's growth (in the plants). I didn't write the scene with that in mind originally, but once it was done I looked at it and said, "Yeah... that's it. That's the moment. I can't pass that up."

Oh well. I can say for sure that, as I have it planned right now, time will move far faster in the future. I don't want to give spoilers out, but suffice to say I do have a rough plan. I will not speed up the story simply to appease the few folks asking for it. I will, however, end "Life Finds a Way" and create a sequel at some point. I really should have done that after his ascension, tbh. New readers are hesitant to tackle a 1 million+ read, and I can't blame them. Chopping it into digestible chunks would have been a better call, but hey... this is my first time doing any of this, so "mistakes were made."

Enough of all that. I could rant for quite a while, but there's no point. Next chapter will take place in a few days, then we'll get to Cure heading back to Canterlot.

Until next week - Enjoy - and, as always, thanks for reading!

Chapter 99: Fillies and Less Complex Phenomena

Tuesday, August 25th, 909 AB (2 days later)

The colt awakes with a start, unable to recall the dream he was having. He glances at the window, finding that the world outside is still dark, though Luna’s moon casts long shadows to the east as it approaches the opposite horizon. Both fillies are tucked under his extended right wing, the bottom layer of which separates from the colt, leaving behind a warm, downy blanket to cover the pair.

A quick scan of the house, the yard, and the network of trees and bushes lining the path to the shop reveal nothing out of place. A few ponies are already making their way to the train station while others are headed to work locally. Cure spots several of the guards he’s come to know headed to the station. The massive earth pony mare, Rushing Charge, is gleefully skipping along beside an exhausted looking Silent Bolt, the former whistling a happy tune while the latter quietly grumbles at his colleague’s good mood.

Cure finishes his morning maintenance and disconnects from his plant. He can’t bring himself to sneak away without gently nuzzling Lotus and Cherry’s barely exposed snouts before he carefully lifts off the bed, hovers to the door, and quietly slips out. The door pulls shut behind him and, without touching the floor, he levitates down the hall towards the stairs.

Despite his attempts to escape undetected, his parent’s door quietly opens and a yellow head pops out. Caught red-hoofed, the colt diverts to wrap his forelegs around her neck in a hug. “Gonna go get treats. Any special request?” he whispers, planting a kiss on her cheek.

Lemon ponders only a moment before shrugging and shaking her head no. “Go ahead,” she returns, shooing him to the stairs, “I’ll have coffee ready when you get back. Be careful.”

He gives her an acknowledging smile and nod as he floats down the steps. He retracts his horn, alters his colors, and withdraws his staff in the near-complete darkness of the entryway before silently slipping out the front door.

A hop and a flap send the colt straight up into the sky. He climbs quickly and reaches about fifty meters height, then turns nearly ninety degrees to the southeast, shooting directly to the bakery he frequents near Town Hall. He comes in for a landing not far away and makes his way to the door, pulling it open and smiling broadly when a familiar mare starts trotting out on three hooves, a to-go cup cradled in the crook of her right fetlock.

“Good morning, Miss Audit!” he cheerfully calls to the pink pegasus taxpony.

The mare does a double take, nearly choking on the slurp of coffee she’d taken. Her eyes flick to the staff on his withers before taking in his thick, stocky build. “OH!” she shouts, her head dipping slightly, “Good morning, your hiiiii-yi-yi-” she freezes, stuck on the same sound as her eyes widen in shock and panic, “- flying young colt!”

Cure forgets to breathe for at least five seconds. His mouth hangs open in stunned silence for what seems like an eternity until his brain finally reboots. A quick scan of their surroundings shows nopony within earshot outside of the bakery, but the mares behind the counter inside caught the exchange and are staring at the pair, frozen and waiting with bated breath.

“I do like to fly high,” he forces himself to say. “I hope you have a wonderful day, Miss Audit,” he evenly replies, doing his best to to maintain his calm. When the mare stays rooted, trembling in place, he sighs and hangs his head. “Go on. Have a good day and don’t worry. Clearly this was just a case of mistaken identity,” he assures her.

The pegasus audibly gulps, vehemently nodding in agreement. As soon as the okay is given, she slinks away, tail tucked tightly to her rear and wings hugged nearly flat to her sides. Cure takes a deep breath as he watches her almost crawl away towards Town Hall. Finally mentally shaking himself back to motion, he steps into the shop and pulls the door shut behind him. He casually approaches the counter just like normal, paying no mind to the petrified, gawking mares standing behind it.

With his wings spread back to offset his weight, he rears up and rests one hoof on the counter as the other paws at his chin. “Hmm… I’ll have one of those delicious looking coffee cakes,” he says, pointing to the display, “a dozen cress-sants,” that gets a snorted laugh from the mare behind the register, “and can you do me a favor?” She immediately nods. “I would like three coffees and three hot chocolates, and can you put two chocolate chip and two blueberry muffins each in three smaller boxes?”

“Certainly… umm… sir?” she replies, ending in a hesitant, questioning lilt.

“Riddle,” he says in introduction. “Just plain Riddle, ma’am,” he adds, shallowly bobbing his head.

All tension has left both mares’ bodies by now, and they quickly begin gathering the requested items with a cheerful, “Right away!”

He reaches in his mane and withdraws forty bits as they work, setting them onto the counter. A few other ponies enter the shop and get in line behind him as the pair work. They watch in curiosity as the apparent-pegasi foal uses a staff to levitate his order above himself and makes his way to the door, calling back, “Thanks! Keep the change!”

Before getting underway, the colt focuses on one of the three sets of drinks and muffins, picturing its destination in his mind. Ferric is, by far, the furthest away, but with only a few hundred grams to teleport he has no difficulty at all. One box, one coffee, and one hot chocolate disappear in a flash, quickly followed by a small note. The scene repeats itself two more times, drawing a few curious ponies that glance his way as they pass. That’s fine, though. Today should be the day when he can finally stop worrying about such things. Task complete, the colt crouches down, lightens himself, reinforces his grip on the remaining confections, and blasts off into the pre-dawn sky.

“The staff,” Amethyst suggests, jerking her snout towards the item in question. “I ain’t never seen no foals runnin ‘round with a staff ‘cept when playin make believe.”

“Yeah, I know,” he sighs, idly scooping up another bite of his coffee cake. “It won’t matter soon enough. I’ll be away in Canterlot and my double will be here pretending to be me. Everypony’ll see ‘Cure Wave’ goin to work just like normal, so hopefully that’ll cause enough doubt that they’ll not make an issue out of it.”

He’s not the only one putting the hammer down on the sugary confection. Savvy is humming contently after each small bite her dam spoons her, and even the twins are pawing at both Deed and Vines for more.

The young alicorn always feels a little guilty comparing ponies to pets, but the way Golden and Blazer are repeatedly begging for more is exactly what he’d expect from any of the dogs Ed had over the years. They’re far too young to have their own, but the tiny, torn off pieces that his parents are passing them won’t cause them any problem; earth ponies, even foals, are quite a bit hardier than they have any right to be from a biological standpoint, and they’ll always be in perfect shape with him around anyhow.

“I’m sure it will work out, honey,” his dam assures him. “Being responsible for ponies’ taxes and all, she probably knows a lot more about ponies’ business than most do. There can’t be that many others that would have recognized you.”

“She would remember you either way,” Title agrees. “You did make quite the impression, after all. Hopefully you didn’t scare her too much.”

“I didn’t!” he insists. More subdued, he adds, “At least, I don’t think I did. Not intentionally. She kinda looked like she wanted to find a rock to crawl under when she left, though. In any other circumstances I would probably have cracked up seeing an adult mare, tail tucked and ears pinned flat, fleeing a foal like that.”

“I might stop by there,” the pink mare sighs. “I bet she’s absolutely panicking.”

“Dunno, babe,” Deed chimes in, “yer gonna be all but confirmin she were right if ya do. If she remembers the colt then I betchya she remembers you too, what with yer colors matchin and whatnot.”

“She already knows,” she argues. “There’s no sense letting her work herself into a tizzy over it. You don’t want the poor thing to have a heart attack or something. I’ll swing by on the way into the office.”

“Do you want me to come?” Cure asks.

“No. You being there will probably just scare her even more.”

“Yeah, maybe, I guess.”

“What about the Dough sisters?” Lemon asks. “You said they witnessed the whole thing.”

“Dough sisters?” he repeats, snout wrinkled in incredulity. “Their names are Dough?”

“Duh? Butter and Soft are the younger ones. Their dam, Stiff, owns the shop. Should I say something to them too?”

Cure can’t help but shake his head as he sighs, “A bunch of mares named Dough. Callin a girl that would normally get ya slapped, I’d bet.”

“Ain’t nothin wrong with a little dough, son,” his sire insists as he tosses a jelly-covered croissant in his mouth. “Yer ma’s are all fit as a fiddle now, but ya darn sure never heard a word ‘a complaint from yer old pa when that weren’t tha case.”

The colt smirks and asks, “So you’re saying you liked ‘em just as well when they had a little extra padding?”

“Sure thing, son. Lil extra fluff never hurt nopony.”

“Fluffy? Isn’t that just a nice way of callin somepony fat?” he muses.

The stallion freezes mid-nod and glances left, then right at all the stares now fixing him in place. He slowly raises both hooves in the air, croissant still sticking to his right. “Now that ain’t what I said. Don’t go puttin words in my mouth, colt. None ‘a these lovely ladies were anythin near what I’d call fat.” His eyes drift to Title and he opens his mouth, pausing when he notices her hoof suddenly resting on a butter knife set beside her plate. He glances between the knife and her deepening scowl before quickly averting his gaze back to his son. “Speakin ‘a the gals what make us lucky stallions, when are ya meetin up with yers?”

“Nice save,” Amethyst quietly chuckles.

“Noonish. Do y’all want me to bring something by the office afterwards? I can get a few to-go orders if you want.”

“Nah, ain’t no way yer ma’ll wait till one. ‘Sides, ain’t nothin there better’n what yer dam packs fer us anyhow.”

“Alright, fair enough. I’m startin to wonder if they even got my notes. Figured Dawn, at least, would Send me a message.”

“Why didn’t you get anything for the pegasi, honey?” his dam inquires.

Cure lazily whirls his empty, cake-smeared fork in the air as he explains, “You can’t really teleport stuff up to the clouds like that. They don’t move much, but they do drift enough I couldn’t be sure I could land anything in their house, let alone on their kitchen tables. I’m sure they’ll understand.”

“OOH!” Title exclaims, waving her hoof frantically. “Teleport us some dessert! I want some chocolate cake. Just send it over when you’re done eating.”

“Chocolate cake?”

“Yeah! With chocolate frosting if they have it.”

“After you’ve had coffee cake?”

“This is breakfast,” she aptly points out, motioning to the remainder of said cake. “That’s lunch. They’re two separate things. I don’t think coffee cake even technically counts as cake. It’s more of a… ya know… bread. Kind of.” The argument gets a few chuckles from everypony else, but nopony speaks up to refute her point.

“I’m pretty sure they’re all made outta mostly the same stuff, ma, but sure… I’ll zap some cake over to your offices before I go. Three slices?” he asks, glancing between his mom and sire.

“Better make it four,” she insists with faux casualness. “Fair’s got a sweet tooth in her you wouldn’t believe.”

A strangled snort sounds out from his sire telling the colt exactly how likely their employee is to get a second slice before his mom claims it.

“Right,” he agrees, voice dripping with disbelief. “Let me know how it goes with Miss Audit, okay? And as far as the,” he pauses to chuckle, “Dough sisters, I think that’s a non-issue. They definitely remember a unicorn foal buying a boatload of breakfast stuff a few weeks back with similar colors, but I doubt they know that both of those were me. I’m probably just another earth pony to them.”

“An earth pony that runs around with a staff on his withers,” Amethyst argues. “One who’s the same age as his highness with a matchin mark and tosses around bits like nothin. Sure thing, colt,” she sarcastically quips, “ain’t no way they solved that puzzle.”

The colt huffs in annoyance but doesn’t bother arguing with her. “Whatever. They’re not worth worrying about. We need to go. My first customer is -err- should be on her way.”

The morning had been an exceedingly profitable affair thus far. A liposuction, tummy tuck, and skin tightening put the colt at fifteen hundred right off the bat. That’s soon followed by a pegasus couple wanting his-and-her wing enhancements (with matching patterns) for another forty-three hundred after the “couple’s discount” he typically gives to mates coming in together.

The next four customers weren’t big spenders, only netting him another couple grand between them. That’s fair given it only takes him a few minutes to clean up hooves, remove scars, smooth out coats, and tighten up some loose skin behind the legs, at the knees, and on their cheeks.

Add in a few tail lengthenings, a snout job, and some rump enhancing, and, with one morning customer left, Cure was mentally gearing up for lunch nearly seven thousand and nine hundred bits richer than he woke up (discounting forty for breakfast and Wind Shear’s referral fees).

According to the appointment slip his last one before lunch had signed up for some cosmetic work to her coat. The slip had a small “plus two” written in the notes section that was not entirely helpful. His question is set aside when the horns hidden between the walls pick up a mare, her husband, and two foals enter the shop, greet his mom, and make their way to the stairs.

Expecting a pair of earth ponies, Cure finds his guess only about three-quarters correct when they round the corner at the top of the landing. The stallion is, indeed, a typical earth pony with a light green coat not unlike his dam, but a dark brown mane combed up and to his right.

His assumed wife, however, appears to be a zebra, earth pony mix. The colt’s mind flashes back to Celestia’s talk about her half zebra lover and, he has to admit, the look is exotic. Rather than the typical zebra’s white or gray base, her coat is a light lavender color striped in a much deeper purple. Silly as it is, the first thing that comes to mind is the color of grape jelly. The dual-tone pattern also alternates all through her mane and down her tail.

The parents can’t be much over twenty and the son and daughter look to be about one and two years old respectively. Cure can only see their faces and a bit of their necks from where they peek around their parents, looking around the new environment with curious eyes. Though they inherited their dam’s striping, from what he can tell the contrast between primary and secondary colors is far less prominent.

“Good morning!” he chirps, extending a hoof in greeting to the stallion. “I’m Cure Wave, proprietor of BodyWorks Enterprises, where we specialize in helping you bring out the more perfect you. Mr. Chartreuse and Mrs. Kamili Sip, I presume?”

Mr. Sip steps closer to return the bump, nervously bobbing his head as he responds, “That’s us! We were told you’re young, but… Wow! Some serious muscles on ya, too, colt. Good on ya.”

His wife forces a smile as she approaches to bump Cure’s hoof, giving her husband’s left side a none-too-subtle jab with her knee and flashing him a quick glare along the way. “Hello, Cure. It’s nice to meet you,” she greets, notably devoid of any accent.

“The pleasure’s all mine! You are right, Mr. Sip. I am young, but I guarantee you won’t find anypony more capable than yours truly. Now, if you’ll follow me into my office, we can discuss what brought you here today and we’ll see what I can do for you.”

He leads the family around the divider and waits patiently while they arrange themselves around their foals. Once they’re situated he speaks up. “So the appointment card said you were interested in some coat alterations. Is that correct?”

“It is,” the mare confirms with a nod. “I don’t know if you’ve ever met anypony like me, but my dam is a zebra and my sire is an earth pony.”

She pauses, almost as if she’s waiting for the colt to react with shock or disgust. Instead, he bobs his head in casual acceptance and remarks, “I had assumed something along those lines. A mare I know told me about a pegasus stallion she dated who had a striped coat. I don’t recall his colors if she told me, but she said his coat was gorgeous. I have to say, the word barely does it justice, ma’am.”

“Told you,” her husband grumbles, reaching over to drape his left fetlock over her right.

The mare hangs her head and sighs. “It is not so simple. Don’t get me wrong - I have always loved my coat, but everywhere I go I am looked at as if I’m an outsider.” She meets his eyes and, voice full of emotion, says, “You cannot imagine how difficult it is to stand out so much. Everyponee expeects me to have un ac-ceent!” He can’t deny that the sudden change is jarring, and that he was surprised when she spoke like anypony else proves she’s right. “I was born and raised in Tampa Neigh, not Zebrabwe!

“Even more frustrating than how I’m treated here, I was completely ostracized when we visited my dam’s family. Everypony looked at me as if I had some kind of disease,” she all but spits the word out. “That, or as if I was some kind of exotic prize to conquer.”

“Honey,” Mr. Sip lightly calls, interrupting her rant. He motions to the colt with his muzzle as if to remind her that she’s talking to a young foal.

She winces in realization and blushes lightly at being called out. “Sorry.” Taking a a deep breath, she refocuses and begins, “As you may have guessed, I was hoping you could change my coat, along with that of our foals. My husband isn’t wholly on board,” she briefly gives him the side eye, “but agreed to at least see what you could do. My mane, my tail, my colors… I just want to be a normal pony!”

Cure gives her a few seconds to regain her composure. She didn’t quite shout the last bit, but with it being such a sensitive subject it was a near thing. Figuring he should play it safe, he activates the Sound Bubble effect and explains, “In case you felt that, I raised a privacy screen around the room so nopony outside can hear us.” Both nod in understanding with the mare once again flushing slightly at her outburst.

“For the record, I can alter your coat, your tail, whatever. Hay, you could walk out of here looking like a completely different pony. Same with your foals, of course. I do have to let the crown know when I significantly alter somepony’s appearance, so just a heads up there. I will do as you ask, if you’re sure,” he pauses and waits for them both to nod, even if he only really needs her approval for her own changes, “but I am not certain how that will play out with your foals’ coats as they age.”

The daughter, upon noticing the colt looking at her, waves a little forehoof and squeaks out a high-pitched, excited “Hi!”

“Hello to you, too, cutie pie!” he gushes. “You’re just ten thousand kinds of adorable, aren’t you?!”

The filly climbs over her parents’ forelegs to inspect the colt, pausing to scent the air. She follows her snout right to his foreleg and looks up in wonder. “Cookie?”

A barked laugh escapes him as he shakes his head no. He lays on his barrel, wrapping the girl in his forelegs. “I’m sorry, sweetness. I don’t have any cookies. If you’re good and your dam and sire say it’s okay I’ll ask my mom to give you a treat downstairs, but that’s just a cologne I invented.” She clearly doesn’t know the word, so he stoops down so she can get a better whiff of his mane. “No cookies, just me.”

“You ought’a sell that stuff,” the husband suggests. “Would make ya a mint.”

“I do sell plants with floral scented oils, but not perfumes directly, and no ‘stallion’ scents.” He shrugs and bobs his head, saying, “It’s not a bad idea,” as he snuggles the young girl to his chest. She settles in contently, pressing her muzzle into his chest fluff and inhaling deeply. “So anyhow, I’ve never tried to alter anypony’s coat permanently at such a young age.

“It may stick, but their stripes might also reappear, especially when they approach maturity. I don’t plan on retiring anytime soon, so it’s not like you, or they, couldn’t come see me again. I will remember you and them, and I won’t charge some exorbitant fee to re-do my work if needed. You have a couple decisions to make, though. The most obvious is your colors and pattern. Next, if you want to truly blend in as a completely typical pony…” he leaves the question hanging and looks to her expectantly.

“I do. My dam will be upset, but… we’ve talked. A lot. She understands, even if she isn’t thrilled.”

“Okay. Then you need to decide what you want your cosmetic only,” he emphasizes, “cutie mark to look like.” He glances down at the drowsy filly and asks, “Do you have any idea if they’ll get cutie marks?”

“They should,” their sire answers. “The doctors said that, just like hippogriffs, first generation foals won’t, but throw in another pony to the mix,” he pats his chest, “and their foals should.” The stallion’s snout scrunches in thought and he cocks his head slightly to the side. “Actually, I’m not sure if that does work with hippogriffs if they have a hippogriff foal.”

“I don’t think so,” Cure replies. “I’ve never seen anycreature that has a cutie mark that wasn’t born with four uncloven hooves, and I’m pretty sure donkeys or mules can't get them. I bet if a hippogriff has a pony then the pony can get one. How that works with other - and I mean no offense by the term - mixed races,” he shrugs, “I haven’t a clue. Either way, how about we look at some designs and find something you like? From there we just need to fill out some paperwork, then I’ll collect my fee, which will be far less than normal for them given their size, and I’ll have you on your way in no time at all.”

Unsurprisingly, Kamili had already put a great deal of thought into her and her foals’ future theoretical, and now actual, appearances.

Dawn arrived in Cure’s lobby just in time to see a completely typical looking, aside from the slightly slimmer mare, earth pony family exiting the colt’s office. Cure follows soon after, hopping up to join her on the couch while they wait for the others. With his much greater weight, he gently, but firmly, rolls the filly onto her back. He lays with his barrel half draped over her chest, his left foreleg behind her right, and his other resting under her crown so her horn isn’t jabbing into the furniture.

“Hello, beautiful,” he warmly greets, nuzzling against her right cheek. “Did you enjoy your breakfast?” he softly coos into her fuzzy ear.

The girl flushes in a brilliant blush that brings him immeasurable joy as she demurely nods. “Dam saw your note,” she faux grouses. “She woke me up waving it in my face before she left for work. The sun coming up with ‘Here’s to a lovely Sunrise’ written in the sky, Cure? Really?”

Despite her outward grumpiness, it’s plain as day that she couldn’t be happier with the unexpected attention, cheesy as it is. His grin nearly splits his muzzle as he settles more of his weight on her, teasing, “Aww, don’t be like that. She was probably just excited. I think the only way I’ll ever really win her over by spoiling ya rotten, ya know?”

“So you’re just using me to get to my dam, huh? She’s happily married, you know.”

Probably is much happier over the last week and a half, too, he considers.

He sits up and taps at his chin in thought. “Hmm… Now that you mention it, I suppose I do pay attention to older mares almost exclusively.”

Her left hind hoof thumps weakly against his hip as she shouts, “WHAT?!”

Voice dripping with innocence, he gives her a completely bewildered look and says, “Well me ‘n Heavy are the youngest of the gang, after all. All’a ya are anywhere from a half year to a year and a half older than us. Why? What did you think I meant?”

A doubtful look through narrowed eyes is her first response. After a few seconds she rolls her eyes and scoffs, laying back fully on his leg. “Whatever. You better not be chasing older mares.” She motions to the vacant stairs and says, “She looked really happy. I’m guessing it went well?”

“In a way, I guess. I won’t tell you what they wanted done, obviously, but I can’t say I would have done the same.” Her curious look prompts him to add, “Let’s just say she wanted her looks changed, hence her coming to me, but in my opinion she was friggin beautiful beforehoof. I can’t help but feel like I didn’t live up to my company’s motto, even if I gave her what she wanted. Other than that it’s been a good morning. Really, really good, in fact, even compared to normal.”

With one more quick nuzzle he sits up off of her and says, “Everypony else is here but Ferric and she’s meeting us at the restaurant. C’mon.”

It always fascinates Cure how ponies both figuratively and literally herd around a specific member of the group. He’d noticed the adults subconsciously forming a perimeter around Celestia several times, and whenever he has all of the fillies together they do the same thing to him. Dawn and Drift each claim a side on the short walk to Miller’s Diner with Rising and Glacial filing in to their left and right respectively, the closest two a half body length behind him and the further even so that, in a way, all four are ‘by his side.’ It’s not always the same pattern, but rarely does he ever see his sire without a mare either on his back, directly on his side, or sandwiched between two of them.

The sight of the five unaccompanied foals draws a few curious looks from other patrons grabbing a quick bite on their lunch break, but nopony raises a fuss when the well mannered herd quietly makes its way to a table, folds down the built-in boosters, and settles in to wait. Ferric only took a few moments longer to arrive, pausing to give her chest, forelegs, and face a good scrubbing in the washroom before hopping up between Rising and Glacial opposite the colt, sharing a subtle side-brush with one, then the other.

Seeing the girl initiate positive physical interactions, slight as they may be, fills the colt’s heart with warmth. “Thanks for the muffins and cocoa,” she quietly mumbles.

“You bet, Red. Did ya see my note?”

She bashfully nods, her ears pinking lightly as they flip back.

“Muffins?” Drift leans forward to ask. “What muffins?”

“He got us,” Rising answers, then looks across the table to Dawn, “and you, I’m guessing,” the orange filly nods, “breakfast. Dam was eating when they flashed onto the table, Cure. Maybe next time warn us? She said she almost broke the table diving away.”

“Uhh… oops?”

The filly rolls her eyes and adds, “It’s fine. Once she saw the note she skipped up the stairs to wake me up and show me.”

“That,” he inclines his muzzle to her, “is exactly why I didn’t warn you. I figured you buncha lazy-bones were still in bed. I bet Red was already up and moving, weren’t ya?”

“Mmhmm. I was coming down the stairs when I saw the flash.” Even across the table, Cure notes the slight sway in her posture from her happily swishing tail. “It was very sweet. Thank you.”

Rising leans right into the larger filly, nuzzling her shoulder as she asks, “What’d yours say? Mine said ‘Here’s hoping your day starts on a high note’ and had a little drawing of me playing my sax.”

Cure can’t help but notice the way Drift is staring daggers into his left side. He pretends not to notice, which isn’t easy when Glacial is quietly giggling as she watches her friend’s agitation grow.

The dark filly’s ears and cheeks glow in a ferocious blush as she studiously examines the table, desperate to avoid the colt’s gaze. “Mine didn’t say anything,” she nearly whispers. “It was just a drawing,” she clarifies, unzipping her little foreleg purse. She pulls out the folded note and passes it to her left.

Rising takes it, unfolds it, and giggle-squeals in joy. “OH. MY. STARS! So CUUUTE!”

Over shouted demands of “Let me see!” the note is passed from filly to filly, each one gushing as they look it over. The colt’s pretty proud of himself with that one. After a moment of failing to come up with anything name-related that was cute, wholesome, and affectionate without being too affectionate, he gave up on words and, instead, etched a black and white doodle of two little safety gear equipped earth pony Cures hammering away at a riveted steel heart while a third supervises their work wearing a hard hat, the blueprints in one hoof while he rubs his chin with the other.

When the drawing finally reaches Drift she drinks in every detail while quietly mumbling, “What the fuck?!” Her right wing unfurls, poking into his side with almost no force. “Where’s ours?!” she demands, waving the paper between herself and Glacial. Despite her aggressive tone, she at least has the presence of mind to be gentle on the note, even if he could reproduce it in seconds.

“He took us on a date, dummy!” Glacial immediately pounces, scolding the purple filly. “None of the rest of them got to do that.”

“Not only that, but I can’t teleport stuff up to the clouds since they’re not completely stationary. It wouldn’t do a lot of good if your breakfast landed on your roof, would it? I mean, I coulda flown ‘em up, but I still had to bring my folks their breakfast before they had to leave for work.”

“Oh.” She meekly nods in acceptance and mumbles a quick apology, passing the note across the table for Glacial to gush over.

“It’s okay,” he accepts, leaning to brush against her side, “I fully expected you to feel a little jilted. Unfortunately, there wasn’t much I could do about it. Keep in mind there’s five of you and one of me. I can’t always do every single thing for everypony. It’s just not possible. If anypony here has gotten the short end of the stick, it’s probably RP.”

All eyes land on the yellow filly, but before she has a chance to respond a waitress approaches the table. “Goodness, gracious, what have we here?” the chestnut mare calls out. “A cute lil herd takin their stallion ta lunch! Ain’t that just precious! What can I getchy’all?”

Conversation halts just long enough to place their orders. Once the mare dances her way back towards the kitchen, Cure reaches in his mane and retrieves a Sound Bubble, activating the crystal as he sets in the center of the table. “As I was saying, all I can do is try my best to be as fair as I can. Rising?”

“Hm?”

“We,” he motions between himself and the pegasi, “go flying together a lot. Dawn and I practice magic all the time. Me and Ferric play with different metals and went to my grandsire’s to practice hammers this weekend, which’ll be a recurring thing, I hope.” The dark filly eagerly nods. “Is there anything coming up that me and you can do together? I’m not huge on music, but if there’s anythin-”

“There’s a concert!” she excitedly interrupts. “The Baltimare Philharmonia Orchestra has a concert every October. Maybe we could go?”

The idea sounds truly dreadful, but it’s only fair that he at least make an effort to treat each filly as fairly as he can.

“Okay. Would you prefer to go with me or with ‘his highness’ instead?”

She tilts her head in confusion. “I thought you only wanted to do that to show us what it would be like.”

“I did, and now you’ll be forewarned as to what to expect. Photographers, newsponies, guards, etcetera. Of course, as a member of royalty, we would get the royal treatment. I may have a harder time getting good seats as myself. Keep in mind, both my parents and your dam would have to say it’s okay, and if we’re not taking a parent along then I can always hire a private guard escort from my great grandsire’s company.”

“I’ll talk to my dam. Can I let you know tomorrow?”

“Sure. I don’t know when those things sell out, so keep that in mind.”

“What about you?” Ferric asks. He cocks a brow at the dark filly and she elaborates, “Is there something you want to do together?”

The colt scoffs, shaking his head no. “I do what I want all the freakin time. It’s sweet of you to ask, but you don’t need to worry about me, Red. I don’t think I’ve really earned it, but I’m damn near the entire nation’s golden colt. If there’s ever anything I want to do I’m sure I only need to ask and everypony will probably trample each other in a rush to make it happen.”

Despite the statement, minus its preface, sounding exceedingly entitled, none of the fillies can come up with a way to refute it. For most desires, little more than a passing comment escaping his lips is all that it would take to turn them into reality, whether he truly intended it or not.

Without pausing to give them time to respond, he continues, “I’m sure you’re all wondering why I didn’t invite Heavy, DC, and Saph along today.” Ferric and Rising both nod, but the rest seem mostly indifferent about their inclusion. “That’s because I want to check with you all first about an event that’s coming up. Celestia puts together this fancy party every year-”

He’s cut off by a mane-tugging gasp. “THE GRAND GALLOPING GALA?!” Rising stands on her hind legs to shout, blushing when the rest of the foals all look at her in shock. She collapses back in her seat shrinking in embarrassment.

“... yeah,” he sighs. “That. She hasn’t said anything yet, and I’m fine skipping the whole thing, but I didn’t want to wait until two days before the event and suddenly find out you’re all dying to go.” Motion out of the corner of his eye draws Cure’s attention. He holds up a hoof to pause the discussion when the waitress approaches with their drinks.

She freezes and goes wide-eyed when she steps through the Sound Bubble, either because she felt the slight, but noticeable tingle on her coat, or because of the immediate change in ambient noise. Her eyes fall on the crystal and she lets out a thoughtful grunt. “That thar seems right useful iff’n yer wantin ta have a quiet conversation, ain’t it?”

“Sure is,” he agrees. “It’s not too noisy in here right now, but it’s really hard for us foals to talk loud enough ta be heard over all the adults, ya know?”

“Ah,” she mumbles, bobbing her head in understanding. She glances to the sole unicorn at the table and gives her an impressed look as she passes out the drinks. “Smart thinkin, then, little filly. Y’all sure come up with some useful stuff, dontchya?”

Dawn opens her mouth to respond but doesn’t get the chance. “They sure do!” he agrees, wrapping a foreleg around the filly to pull her against his side. “My little Sunrise is gonna be the best mage in Equestria some day, I tell ya what. My own little Princess of Fire!” he boastfully declares.

The mare giggles and slides the tray onto her back as she turns, calling, “Good on ya, girl!” as she leaves the privacy screen.

“You are such a dork,” Drift snorts. “My own little Princess of Fire,” she teasingly mocks in a poor imitation of his barely deeper voice. Cure accepts it easily enough. It was more than a little cringeworthy, but it was also probably the quickest way to get rid of the mare.

“You should have let me tell her,” Dawn grumbles, bumping him with her hip.

“There isn’t anything wrong with lettin folks think what they want to think, babe. Usually, at least.” He grabs his glass and takes a swig of water before he continues, “So as I was saying, before I even consider bringing the whole Gala topic up to the others, I wanted to check with you five first. Dunno ‘bout DC, but it doesn’t seem like Saph’s kind of thing and I know Heavy wouldn’t be interested. What are your thoughts?”

“What’s it like?” Glacial asks. “I mean, really like?”

Cure shrugs and explains, “I’ve obviously never been, but my understanding is that it’s the elite of the elite all coming together in one place to sniff their own and each others’ farts to determine their ranking on volume, tone, duration, and flavor. Presumably with bonus points for artistic ability if you can carry a tune.” The line is delivered devoid of inflection and completely matter-of-factly, causing each filly to mentally replay it to ensure that what they thought they heard is what he really said.

Drift bursts out laughing, flopping against his side as she cackles uncontrollably. Dawn and Glacial share a disappointed look from opposite corners of the table, each one sighing and shaking their heads despondently. Ferric freezes, though a single strangled laugh escapes her before she clamps down on it before blushing madly.

Rising looks like she just witnessed a bunny rabbit being butchered for meat by a particularly clumsy griffon. The abject horror from the slack-jawed filly at her coltfriend’s deadpanned analysis is plain for all to see.

“Cure,” Dawn calls in a scolding tone. “That’s disgusting! Why do you have to be so… so…”

“Gross!” Rising finishes. “What the hay, Cure?!”

“Look, it really is just a big ego-measuring contest. She hasn’t directly said it, but I can tell Celestia dreads going to the thing every year. It’s tradition, though. I’m perfectly happy skipping it until I’m absolutely obligated to make an appearance, and even then I’ll be looking to make my escape at the very first opportunity that presents itself.

“The only ponies I’ll know are the boss lady, the Bluebloods, some of the guards, and the palace staff. Celestia will be busy the whole time, I’ve only met the Bluebloods a few times, even if they seem okay, and the others will all be on the clock.

“If Prince Serpentus goes then everypony that wants a piece of him for whatever reason is going to make it a priority to try their luck. Or they’ll do their best to dig for something they can use against me. Probably both. Either way, I’d much rather spend the entire evening ramming my head into the Canterhorn, or any other unyielding surface, at roughly the speed of sound. There’s a good chance I’ll end up with less brain damage, and a much smaller risk of me getting annoyed enough to hurt somepony.”

Rising sulks, almost tearfully commenting, “You really know how to remove the shine from something, don’t you?”

“I’m sorry, RP. Really, I am, but I’m also pretty confident I’m not far from the truth. Tell me what it is about the whole thing that you’re enamored with. Is it the dancing? The pageantry? The food? You won’t know anypony there, and I’m assuming you’re not wanting to go for the open bar.”

That earns another snorted laugh from Drift.

Her ears fold back as she admits, “I don’t know what that means. What’s an open bar?”

“Free drinks,” Dawn answers. Quizzical looks are cast in her direction and she explains, “Daddy said they had one at their wedding. He said it didn’t go well because somepony got drunk and ruined it.”

“He told me about that. As hilarious as it would be, I don’t see anypony getting totally smashed at the princess’s shindig,” Cure points out. Not unless I spike the fuck out of the punch, which might make the whole thing bearable. “Seriously, though, what part of the triple-G were you looking forward to?”

“Dancing?” she hesitantly asks. More confidently, she continues, “The music, the glamor, seeing the castle all decorated up, meeting the princess again. The idea of getting a really pretty dress and being seen by everypony.” She sighs wistfully, smiling serenely and staring into the distance as if caught in a wonderful dream. “It just sounds so wonderful,” she breathily admits.

The other fillies look on with interest, clearly imagining themselves climbing out of a carriage just as she had.

Fuck! Fuckity Fuck Fuck DOUBLE MOTHER QUADLASER FUCK!

Internal tantrum tightly contained, Cure leadingly says, “If it really means that much to you…”

“REALLY?!” she squeals, reaching frequencies that even a bat would struggle to attain. Cure’s eyes briefly flick down to the glassware to check for cracks, only slightly surprised when he finds everything intact. A quick check of the Sound Bubble shows that, despite her efforts, it remains active as well.

“In disguise,” he strongly emphasizes, “but yes. If our folks approve, we could ask. Assuming you’re certain you want to go. Once we commit, we’re committed. Prince Serpentus can’t say yes then not show up.”

Not trusting her voice to answer, Rising energetically nods, brushing tears off her cheeks as she sniffs back the looming tide.

“Okay. What about the rest of you?”

“After the way you described it?!” Drift incredulously asks. “No way. That sounds awful.”

“The dancing was fun,” Glacial comments. “I’d really like to do that again. Maybe not at something like that, but…”

“We don’t have to go to the Gala to dance, babe. I’m sure we’ll have plenty of opportunities, many of which won’t have the social pressure that this whole thing will.” He turns back to Rising and asks, “Do you even know how to dance?”

“Yes!” she explosively replies. She wilts slightly and more sedately clarifies, “A little. I’m okay, but… I haven’t ever really danced before.”

Cure sighs and says, “You do realize that if you step out onto the dance floor with his highness, then. Every. Single. Eye. will be watching everything you do.” He holds his hooves up in placation and quickly assures her, “I’m not trying to talk you out of it. I just don’t want you to be caught unprepared. The princess, the members of the nobility, foreign ambassadors, the rich and elite from across the nation, the photographers… I mean the whole world will watch and, to different degrees, will scrutinize every little thing. You do realize that, right?” he repeats.

“I don’t know, Rising,” Dawn timidly speaks up. “He’s right. It would be different if it wasn’t his first Gala, or if ponies were more used to seeing him in the capital, but being Prince Serpentus’ date on his first Grand Galloping Gala ever?” She frowns deeply and shakes her head no. “That sounds terrifying, even if I was in disguise. Even if I was a great dancer.”

“Dancing skill isn’t a huge problem. I can help with that. It’s the pressure of everypony’s attention. I had considered asking Misty Twilight to next year’s just so my first one would be out of the way,” he explains. “That’s Blueblood’s youngest, and no, before you all can make assumptions, there’s nothing between us.”

He can tell that the quick assurance was a good idea when a look of relief passes over them. “She’s been raised in that environment, and publicly, she and Prince Serpentus barely know each other. That’s a whole lot less pressure, and it’s on somepony that is more equipped to deal with it. She has, after all, been royalty her whole life.”

“She is?” Ferric asks. “I thought the title…” she trails off when Cure shakes his head no.

“No, she isn’t really a princess. She is in line for the crown if something happened to her two older siblings, but she’s unlikely to ever be a princess at all. Blueblood Junior will be a prince when Senior passes him the title. That is to say only a Prince, whereas I am the Grand Prince and Celestia is the High Princess. Still, she is the daughter of royalty, so saying she is, also, isn’t completely wrong.”

All five of them have consciously known for a while that Cure is an alicorn prince. They’ve known that he is functionally second in line for the throne since Celestia had him take his oaths. To have it all spelled out to them; to have him explain out loud that he sits only one step below the mare that might as well be their goddess… it gives them all pause as they once again consider all the implications of that. Sure, they’re sitting down to lunch with their friend and more-or-less coltfriend, but at the same time, that friend is a budding immortal deity. And they are at the top of the list of his potential future wives; future princesses, of a sort, themselves.

He instantly picks up on the abrupt shift in their demeanors, and does his best to reassure them. “Hey… I’m still just Cure, ya know. I’m just saying that Misty or her sister, Azure Tiara, while a couple years older than me, could break the ice by being my first Gala date. It would mean less pressure on anypony else in the future. The elder may be better, even, since then it would be all the more clear that we’re going as friends instead of dating.”

“This political crap is a pain,” Drift complains. “Whatever, I don’t care. I don’t want to go. Maybe in the future we can try it, but it sounds awful for now.”

“I wouldn’t mind going sometime,” Ferric agrees. “Not now, but maybe in a few years?”

“Same here,” Glacial agrees. She leans forward and looks past Ferric, saying, “If you want to go and you want somepony to come with you, I could ask my parents if it’s alright. Having somepony else with you will make it a lot better, I think.”

“A good point,” Cure agrees. He looks to his right and cocks a brow in question.

“I was thinking the same thing. I’ll go with, but I’m not dancing at all. No way. Everything else sounds like it would be fun to try, though. I would love to see the castle when it’s decorated for Hearth’s Warming… I bet it’s amazing.”

Rising shifts back and forth on her forehooves under the collective stare of the others. Her snout is scrunched in an ugly frown and her ears are pinned flat to her head. “Fine!” she growls, shifting her weight as if she is stomping on her seat, but not actually moving more than her barrel. A single hoof rises and jabs in the colt’s direction. “But you will take me eventually!” she demands.

“Umm… I always intended to if you want?” he defensively argues. “Hay, I’ll take ya this year if everypony’s fine with it. Don’t go actin like I said no, ‘cause that’s not fair.”

The filly deflates like a punctured balloon, flopping halfway on the table while whining, “You could at least pretend to let me blame you!” Ferric reaches over and rubs the fallen girl’s back in small, comforting circles.

“If you just want some dancing and stuff there’s always the hospital’s Hearth’s Warming party if you’re cool going with Serpentus. No fancy dresses, but logistically and politically it’s a whole lot less complicated, or I could get tickets to the Golden Hills one if you want, and I don’t even need to go as ‘his highness.’ Last year’s was pretty meh, but… it’s an option.”

“You also got in trouble for threatening an older colt,” Dawn reminds him.

Curious exclamations sound out from the other foals at this new revelation.

Cure twists his entire body to fully face the unicorn. “Where in the flaming hay did you hear that?!”

The filly crosses her forelegs over her chest and gives him a challenging look. “Well it’s true, isn’t it?”

“Strictly speaking, yes, but that’s completely lacking context. I don’t remember telling you about it, though.”

She gives him a sly smile and says, “I have my sources.”

“Gee,” he exaggerates rolling his eyes, “I wonder who it could have possibly been? It’s not like your dam works at the hospital or anything.” He pauses and furrows his brows in thought. “She shouldn’t know, though. That’s private Creature Resources info, and that happened here, not at the main hospital’s party.”

She turns and pokes his chest with her hoof, insisting, “My dam didn’t tell me! I’ve sold crystals to lots of ponies all over Golden Hills and Baltimare. Ponies talk.”

“Yeah, but nopony should know who I even was.”

“They don’t. That doesn’t mean rumors about a blue earth pony colt bending a steel bar into a pretzel and threatening to beat up another colt with it didn’t get around. Once daddy mentioned we’re from Golden Hills and they realized he’s a guard they couldn’t help but ask if the rumors were true.”

He huffs in annoyance and turns away. “Whatever.”

“What did happen?” Glacial inquires. “You said it’s lacking context, well…” she holds out a hoof inviting him to explain.

“I asked to play shoe toss with some older foals. The colt was a total prick. He told me to fuck off even though I was being polite. Keep in mind, this was only a few hours after our,” he tilts his head to Drift, “little spat, so I wasn’t in the mood for it. I yanked the little goal post out of one of the shoe toss boards and bent it in half, then straightened it back out. Those things aren’t exactly top quality steel, ya know? I never threatened him at all, and I even paid for the replacement.”

“I was just teasing,” Dawn insists, leaning to press against his side. “Don’t be upset?” she asks, voice full of hope and regret.

“I’m not!” he growls, fooling nopony. “It’s just that this moron from CR whose horn I had fixed ambushed me with that cow manure on the same day I was giving the hospital my Origin Cell Trees, and rather than fight it, my sire made me sign the stupid form accepting fault for the conflict.

“The whole thing from start to finish was crap and even Dr. Care was furious over it. I’m not thrilled to hear somepony’s runnin their stupid mouth about it when they don’t even know what happened, especially when it was supposed to be addressed privately instead of being whispered about across the entire fucking city!”

He feels her forelegs wrap around him in a hug, not even fully reaching around his much larger barrel. Another set, along with wings, soon joins, taking all of the wind out of his sails completely. The three on the opposite side of the table look relieved when he visibly calms, each one releasing their held breath.

“Easy, Cure,” Drift, he’s surprised to find, calls in a soft voice. “We don’t need you going all… whatever the hay that was.”

“Whatever what was?!”

“Your mane,” Ferric softly answers.

“It was getting all flowy,” Glacial clarifies, “and your eyes lit up a little.”

“It was kind of pretty,” Rising adds. “It was like… a field of tall grass swaying in the wind.”

Panic grips the colt as he looks around, relieved immeasurably to see nopony staring in their direction. Glacial clues in immediately, soothingly insisting, “Nopony was watching. I checked.”

The warm embraces abruptly stop when the waitress approaches, a tray laden with food on her back. “Aww! So cuuute!” she loudly coos. “Always melts mah heart ta see young love. Sorry ta interrupt ya, girls, but I’ll be outta yer manes lickity-split! Now which one of y’all had the asparagus pasta?”

Cure swaps the nearly depleted crystal for a charged one as the waitress passes out the food. He reactivates it the moment she departs. “Sorry about that, everypony. The boss lady said I have to keep my temper in check now. It’s still a work in progress, obviously.”

“What’s that do?” Drift asks, motioning to his mane.

“Nothing? Look neat? It shouldn’t do anything, though. Alicorns just have to keep a lid on their emotions a bit better.”

“Uh huh. Or you what… blast the moon?”

“I… don’t know?” he honestly answers. “I mean, Celestia moves the moon with a ritual, but I don’t know if she could actually shoot far enough to hit it just by herself. I damn sure can’t.” His mind flashes to a scene from the show where a newborn alicorn blasts clean through palace walls. “I think, at least. Can’t say I’ve considered trying. I was just annoyed. It’s not like I was gonna start firing away. I don’t even have my horn out.”

“She’s talking about the mare on the moon,” Glacial points out. She shoots a glare across the table and reminds Drift, “He said he can’t tell you anything, so stop asking!” That, of course, leads to a retelling of previous conversations he’d shared with the pegasi on the subject, all the while the rest quietly eat their lunch. Even while doing the majority of the talking, the colt manages to finish his meal at about the same time they do.

The waitress soon arrives again, this time with the desserts they’d ordered, along with four large pieces of cake. As soon as nopony is watching, Cure withdraws a smaller version of his staff from under a hidden wing, teleports the cake away, and digs into his dessert.

The six sit in a post-meal fog, Cure quietly sipping on a coffee with a filly pressed on either side. The other side of the table is a near duplicate, with Ferric polishing off a glass of milk, Glacial and Rising resting heavily against the larger girl.

“I only have a couple customers left. If y’all want, you can come to the shop and take a nap in the little bedroom behind my office. I’ll come join ya for a little bit after, then we,” he looks to the pegasi, “can go to my house and do some weather stuff if you’re still game. I could make y’all dinner if ya want to hang out the rest of the day.”

A jaw-splitting yawn escapes Glacial. She placidly nods, nuzzling her cheek against Ferric’s neck. The others soon follow suit, voicing their agreement as well. It only takes a moment to get the waitress’ attention and pay the bill before he’s in the middle of a sleepy filly parade headed back to his shop.

“So, I take it everything is going pretty well?”

Crowned nods so hard Cure’s almost worried he’ll hurt himself. “Sweet Celestia! Like you wouldn’t believe! I’ve made so many friends and met so many new ponies! I’ve even noticed more ponies coming into my shop. Did you see the article in the paper?!”

“I did. I have to say, I really do appreciate the advertising, Mr. Piece. My dam even cut the article out and stuck it in a scrapbook for me. It’s not every day I get mentioned in a big-name newspaper, as I’m sure you can imagine.”

The stallion leans forward and rests a hoof on Cure’s shoulder, meeting his eyes and, with the utmost sincerity, says, “You absolutely deserve it. This,” he motions to himself, “has changed my whole life! I never knew having a horn was so amazing!”

“I bet wings are just as fun,” Cure lightly muses.

“Oh, definitely! But this is way better than I ever expected.” The pegasus pauses and seems to concentrate, staring at the fountain pen sitting on Cure’s desk. A turquoise aura engulfs it and it floats unsteadily in the air, slowly but surely making its way to the stallion’s waiting hoof.

Dumbstruck, the colt can only stare on with his jaw hanging open. A drawn-out “uhhhhhh” falling from his muzzle.

“I KNOW!” Crowned exclaims, waving the pen in the air. “Isn’t it AMAZING! I haven’t told anypony else, but one of my friends is a unicorn. I was making him breakfast the other day and he made a silly little comment about learning how to use it. ‘Well that’s just ridiculous!’ I insisted, explaining how you said I wouldn’t be able to use magic.

“Sharp, the little genius that he is, was all, ‘You might not be able to cast spells, but I bet you can lift stuff. I’ll show you how!’ Well, I’ll tell you, little mister, that magnificent stallion was right! Only a short hour later I picked up my very first bit with this horn, and stars and sun! My life hasn’t been the same since!”

Celestia is going to frown. I foresee an abundance of disappointed alicorn frowns in my near future.

“That’s… amazing! Yeah, amazing is the right word. I suppose I hadn’t considered that being a possibility.”

Why didn’t I? Perfect Hire’s horn was fucked up and she could lift stuff. I wonder if Sonic could have with a little training.

“You should give yourself one, too! I know earth ponies are super strong and can grab things easier, but I can’t tell you how useful this little guy is. It’s nowhere near as strong as Sharpie’s is, but that’s okay! I never expected to be able to do this at all!”

“I’ll consider it. I think my dam would freak out if I came home with a horn all of the sudden.”

“Oof! True. I suppose some ponies aren’t always very accepting. I know my parents weren’t at first,” he grumps.

Cure raises a single hoof. “I have a concern.”

“Hmm?”

Cure points to the stallion’s horn. “I’m a little worried what would happen if word got out that I could do that, even if it isn’t as strong as the real thing.”

Crowned dismisses the concern with a lazy flick of his wing. “Oh don’t you worry about it at all, little mister. I thought the same thing myself. Goodness! Can you imagine if the griffons or the zebras found out? I bet they would be breaking down your door for horns themselves!”

Cure gives the stallion an evaluating look. It could be that he’s just theorizing, but a small part of the colt’s mind is whispering that this could be an attempt to subtly blackmail him. The pegasus’ body language doesn’t read as threatening in any way at all; if anything, he seems genuinely excited. No, he decides, there’s no way he would let me put him under and mess with his body if he’s trying to blackmail me.

“That’s a huge relief. I can’t even imagine a bunch of guards suddenly showing up at my shop wanting to know why I’m giving working horns to everypony.”

“I don’t think that’s illegal,” Crowned voices, a thoughtful frown on his face.

“I dunno, but I bet the unicorns wouldn’t be happy either way.” He heaves a sigh and motions to the couch. “So, any chance I could convince you to stay the way you are?”

Crowned shakes his head no as he climbs up and lays on his barrel. “No way!”

“Alright. This shouldn’t take too long. I’m pretty confident I can finish you up today. When you wake back up you’ll look about as close to his highness as you can without me messing with your noggin too much. You ready?”

Cure feels like he can somewhat sympathize with Comet, the maybe-future-coltfriend that Celestia had nearly caused to crash with an unfortunately timed Sending. Receiving a message isn’t physically jarring, but feeling the ethereal connection click “on” before the contents are relayed is a little distracting even under the best of circumstances.

He’s more than happy to forgive and forget this time, especially given the reason he’s receiving it.

<< Awesome! Do you have it with you? >>

<>

<< Actually, you’re not very far away. Can you step outside with it? >>

Several blocks over, directly in front of Midnight’s store, a large branch in an unassuming tree splits off from the whole. The wood’s surface begins changing, altering itself to the same material as a horn, hidden from sight by the canopy of leaves surrounding it.

<< I… suppose? Are you able to teleport it from so far away without knowing exactly where it is? I thought that only worked with things that aren’t moving. >>

<< You’d be correct if I was a unicorn. Don’t worry - I’ll get it. >>

<< Very well. One moment, please. >>

Cure pauses his work, focusing instead on the aura being emitted from the distant horn. It’s too far away to use it to cast from the spell, but that isn’t a problem; he can cast the spell from where he is, so long as the precise targeting information is available to him.

He watches with eager anticipation as the door swings open and the light purple mare pokes her head outside. She looks around as if expecting him to hop out from around the corner, then pushes the rest of the way out. A small, plain, wooden box is sitting on her withers.

<< Okay, I’ve got it, Mrs. Gem. Try to stand still for a second and I’ll cast the spell. >>

He catches the motion from her needlessly lifting her crystal in a hoof. << Okay, Cure. I have to say, this is one of the more unusual, and quickest, deliveries I have ever made. >>

<>

Even knowing it’s coming, the mare still startles slightly when the box flashes off of her back. Several ponies passing by stop and look in her direction. Cure doesn’t have auditory sensors in place to catch what she tells them, but it seems to work as they continue on their way seemingly unbothered.

<< I’ve got it. Thanks, Mrs. Gem! You’re the best! I’ll be buying at least a kilo of raw silver from you soon too, so just a heads up. >>

<< You’re welcome, Cure. I’ll go ahead and order some in. Ta ta! >>

She ducks back in the shop, the closing door blocking his aura from continuing its observation. Keratin melts back into wood, rejoining the separated branch with nopony the wiser, all the while the blue colt all but dances with glee, rushing to finish his last customer of the day.

“This… is a whole lot more involved than I expected,” Cure sincerely comments. “I figured this would be more intuitive… not,” he waves a hoof at the assortment of mostly monochromatic cloud puffs before him, “all this.”

With the other fillies piled on and around him, he fights against the nagging distraction that is his newly acquired golden tube to maintain his focus on Glacial’s lecture. The filly had taken his request for tutoring to heart, soliciting her sire for assistance. Rain, in turn, sought and obtained his manager’s approval to tear off a small piece of several different types of clouds the weather team had in stock. The story, apparently, is that his daughter asked to tutor her coltfriend who missed out on much of his education due to his parents both being earth ponies and is rushing to learn what he can before school restarts.

The deception without outright lying raises Cure’s opinion of the stallion considerably. Dishonest as it may be, it’s the very same tactic he would have used if he were in the same position. The only potential failure point would have been if the manager took it upon herself to visit the colt in pony, but that doesn’t seem likely to happen now.

“It is intuitive once you’ve memorized what kind of effects each cloud type can produce, along with the defining characteristics that will allow you to identify them properly,” she unhelpfully explains. “Take this one, for example,” she says, holding up a cloud that, for the most part, looks like any other. She moves closer, grabs his hoof, turns it over, and sets the cloud against his frog. “Feel the flow of moisture in it. The way it roils and rumbles, waiting to be released. You should be able to sense it pretty easily.”

“I do feel something,” he agrees. “It’s like… I dunno, there’s a pressure built up. A pushing, kind of. Like if you could somehow feel a balloon that’s ready to burst.”

He pauses when Rising reaches over to touch it, but her fetlock passes through as if it’s not there at all. She shrugs and says, “It just feels a little chilly on my coat.”

“You won’t be able to do anything since you’re not a pegasus,” Glacial patiently explains. She nods to Cure and says, “That’s exactly right. Each kind of cloud will feel different. We’re supposed to go to the weather factory this coming school year to see how they make the most common ones. Rain and snow, mostly, since they’re so similar, but also some of the special ones the Guard keeps under lock and key.”

“Like… storm clouds?”

“Probably. I doubt they’ll show us the crazier stuff. They have ones for whirlwinds that can sweep ponies off their hooves and clouds that can drop huge balls of ice. Some of that stuff is kind of scary.”

“Interesting,” he comments. “So what type of cloud is this little guy?”

“That’s a mid-level aquaphorous nimbostratus. That’s what the weather factory distributes for typical rain production. It should be very easy to coax water out of, even for a beginner.”

“Okay… I’m not gonna, like, blast anypony with lightning am I?”

Drift, sprawled out on her own solid white cloud overhead, giggles at the question. “Not with that little thing! Even a high-level volatile cumuloniumbus that size would only hurt a little. You might get your hoof wet, that’s all.”

“Ah. And a volatile colon… nimbus… thing?”

“Cyoo. Myou. Low. Nim. Bus,” Glacial slowly enunciates.

“Right! That’s exactly what I said. Which of these is that thing?”

“She wouldn’t bring that into your house, Cure,” Drift remarks from above.

“She’s right,” Glacial agrees. “It would be highly irresponsible. Especially with you being an alicorn.”

“Oh. That matters?”

She scoffs and shakes her head. “I have no idea. You have a lot more magic than a pegasus. Either way, I don’t want to find out inside your living room. Really, we should be doing this outside, just in case.”

“Eh, a little water won’t hurt anything. I mean, how much can this little poof,” he holds the grapefruit-sized cloud up, “possibly have inside it?”

Drift rolls over and peeks over the edge of the cloud, eyes dancing with mirth. “Go ahead and pour some magic in it and find out.” Cure can’t help but notice she’s closed her membranes. Still, he will readily admit that he’s curious what would happen if he went hog-wild.

“That’s probably not a good idea. It only takes a little to-”

An eruption of water blasts out in all directions, dissipating the entirety of the cloud’s ethereal form in an instant.

“- set it off,” Glacial finishes with a sigh that’s completely overshadowed by the uproarious laughter from above and the whining complaints from everypony else.

“Huh,” he grunts, wiping the water from his eyes with his foreleg. “That was kinda awesome. What else ya got?”

The platinum filly growls, shaking the water from her mane and flicking some off her wings. She stalks over to the collection of cloud chunks and reaches in her saddlebags, withdrawing a two centimeter thick book and throwing it in his direction.

He easily snags it out of the air and turns it over. “Meteormancy Basics,” he reads aloud, nodding in acceptance. “Yeah… this may have been the better starting point. I’ll make sure I commit as much of it to memory as I can. Wanna maybe pick this up when I get back in a few weeks?”

“That may be best,” she stiffly agrees.

As much as he enjoyed the day spent with the fillies, Cure couldn’t wait to have a little alone time to work on his project. Unfortunately, he couldn’t just disappear on everypony right away, so it wasn’t until they had worn themselves out and fallen asleep that he could finally get started.

Laid on his right side, the colt’s left wing is spread down over top of his sisters to blanket the pair. His right foreleg runs down Lotus’ back with her crown and mane wedged tightly into his legpit. Cherry’s rump is barely a hoof from her sister’s chest as she lays on her left side, her neck craned in a way only a foal can comfortably pull off so her head is resting on the outside of his left thigh. A thick vine protrudes from the wall, linking him into his plant network.

In his workroom just below the sleeping foals, the golden tube is protectively immersed, both internally and externally, in a thick mold of alicorn skeletal material. A microscopic gap forms exactly two millimeters from the edge of the mold. A long, fine-toothed ceramic saw descends in the gap and begins rapidly sliding back and forth, slowly but surely severing the small portion off the end. As much as Cure would like to use Transmutation to atomically separate the piece, he simply does not know what impact that may have on the metal. The last thing he wants to do is contaminate the entire sample before the ritual.

When the cut finishes, the remainder of the tube protectively retracts underground and the newly made ring is lifted away. A very fine file carefully cleans the edges and buffs away any minor imperfection, pausing frequently for it to be encased in living matter, whereupon it is meticulously scanned to confirm its smoothness and polish.

Once properly prepared, the ring is levitated slowly, methodically, and gently placed onto a flat, sterile ceramic platform. The discarded gold dust is gathered and stored in case he finds a use for it later.

Shallow channels form on the surface of the platform. First, a large circle is etched around the ring, followed by a six-pointed star inside it. An additional six rays, smaller than the first set, form protruding from the original’s corners, overshadowed by the larger shape. Symbols fill the space between the stars and the circle’s edge to describe the physical act of splitting and the conceptual act of rejoining a single object, and to guide the investment of a physical object’s properties within another. Within the stars’ boundaries are the etchings necessary to connect two points in space, provide a channel for magical power, and set conditions under which the spell is aborted.

With the diagram in place, five mid-low crystals settle into position; one approximately at each corner, and a fifth slightly lower than center to the left, each set into a facet surrounded by empty channels. Arteries approach from all sides, slowly filling the channels with crystal dust-mixed blood before retracting. A single mid-quality crystal settles directly on top of the ring itself, and a final line is drawn overtop to finish the last of the connections.

A horn extends from the ceiling above and performs a final scan. With all preparations made, power begins to build until it reaches a crescendo, blasting down to activate the inscription. The cylinder of pure magical power continues unleashing its fury for exactly sixty seconds, then abruptly ceases.

What was one is now two halves of a still connected whole, one stacked atop the other; a joined pair of rings with the lines and swirls of blood consumed and transferred, etched directly onto their surfaces in crimson lines. The storage and conductivity of the sacrificed crystals are now imbued into the final product.

Almost reverently, stalks extend and grasp the outside edges of the rings. The platform is cleaned and left in place for future use.

The rings are separated, placed at opposite ends of the room; one near the east wall and the other at the west. A trickle of power flows through the plant to the east ring, filling the magical capacitor slowly. A soft brown glow creeps in from the outer ring, saturating the etched-in channels as it approaches and fills the drawings along the interior of the ring.

The exact opposite process occurs on the other side of the room. Devoid of power flowing through the vines, the diagram along the interior edge of the ring begins to shine. It takes only seconds for the process to complete and, from one instant to the next, a disc noiselessly blinks into existence in the interior of both rings projecting the view from their opposite.

The tiniest sliver of power continues to flow from east to west as the colt extends eyestalks to observe his creation from every angle. As far as he can tell, the portals’ surfaces have no depth at all, or at least none he is capable of measuring. Rather than sitting at the entrances or the centers of the rings, the portal exists in the shallow channel at the exact spot where the two original’s halves were split.

He waits a full minute before taking further action. Reasonably sure that neither will suddenly explode, a single tendril reaches out, piercing the surface of the east ring and exiting out the west. The effect is instantaneous; there is no discernable space from one side to the next. Even individual cells, until they cross the portal’s boundary entirely, feel as if they are partially in two places at once.

A stalk moves to check the opposite side of each ring, finding a circle of absolute blackness. The book had mentioned that early versions of the ritual did not include the safety mechanisms; the tendril that touches the back of the portal merely glances off the protective shield rather than being atomically discorporated. A slight push causes the ring’s glyphs to glow warm and the power draw to increase, prompting the colt to stop, lest he risk ruining his work.

The tendrils withdraw and the portal ceases, only to reactivate originating from the west ring instead. A new tendril poking through confirms that the connection’s origin and termination do not functionally matter. Power cuts off once again, violently ejecting the tendril back through the east ring.

He repeats the test, this time extending several meters of tendril through before deactivating it. The stored energy in the ring makes a noble attempt to eject the whole, blasting it out like some kind of noodle cannon, but eventually runs out, cleanly severing the tendril, rupturing the partially transported cells at the discs’ surfaces, and spraying blood wildly all over the room.

It only takes a moment for him to clean up the mess.

While still deactivated, he extends a tendril through each ring and attempts to reactivate it. The safety measures prevent the connection from initializing, making it impossible for the portal to form.

He moves it out of the way and reopens the portal. Once again, a tendril pierces the ring from east to west. He moves another to the opposite side of the ring.

Experimentally, the west ring moves vertically, then horizontally, then twists and turns, slowly spinning in the vine’s sinuous hold. The protruding tendril moves perfectly relative to the disc in all directions, for all appearances flailing about while simultaneously not moving at all.

Movement halts on both ends as the next phase of testing begins.

A small horn forms on the end protruding from the west ring. While maintaining the trickle of energy to sustain the connection, magic flows through the tendril, through the gateway, and out the other side. The muscles actuate, vibrating in a specific pattern, and the miniature horn begins to glow.

The spell cuts off. The horn retracts and repeats the spell, projecting light from the opposite ring’s interior. A small flow of power gathers at the end of the horn, blasting a miniature beam through the portal and emerging from the other side, ineffectual slamming into the armored wall.

The horn is absorbed and the tendril extends back through.

The west ring, still active, descends down into the floor. A protective shell encases it as it is undulated through a tube to arrive just outside of the house. The sphere shifts and gains shape, forming into a black cat surrounded by a protective sac. It erupts from the ground, and is birthed out into the world, blinking its eyes for the first time.

Cure pays attention to the draw required to maintain the portals as he attempts to walk the cat away. It immediately trips and falls flat on its face. It’s awkward and difficult to move one set of limbs without the other, forcing him to pause as he fleshes out the feline’s nervous system.

He’s suddenly thankful that it’s dark outside, otherwise somepony would definitely have noticed somepony’s pet flopping about pitifully on the ground.

The three centimeter diameter of the entire ring assembly takes up too much room to also fit the necessary bits of brain in the cranium, forcing him to relocate the disk to the cat’s torso instead. This necessitates that he reconfigure the digestive tract to accommodate its placement, but allows him to make the small animal a puppet, giving it direction and drive while retaining its memories within his own mind.

With all of the processing occurring remotely, the act of locomotion smooths out and becomes more fluid. The cat resumes its journey, quietly slipping into the night.

His excitement grows to new heights as he monitors the magical consumption. Following above the underground water pipes into town, he can accurately gauge the distance as the throughput slowly ticks up.

He had always assumed that the requirement to sustain it would be steep, and the books he absorbed with Celestia shortly after his ascension indicated the cost would increase exponentially with distance, but the portals created in ages past were designed with entire creatures in mind. A circle with a single centimeter in diameter is just over three-quarters of a centimeter squared, whereas one large enough for a unicorn to comfortably pass would need to be somewhere around seventeen thousand times as large.

An entire team is required to power one moving more than a kilometer, making the prospect completely infeasible for use in transportation. Not only is the magical draw problematic, but the material cost for the needed crystals would be absolutely ruinous for most ponies.

Meter after meter passes by with a barely perceptible increase in the draw from his pool, wholly overshadowed by the unfathomable regeneration afforded by his extended plant network. Seeing such inconsequential increases, the cat climbs a tree and rests on a branch out of sight of any bats, shifting and reforming into an owl before taking flight.

Keeping its speed consistent with a typical member of the species, it flies east along the rail line, only beginning to draw a noticeably higher amount of power after the four kilometer mark. By five and a half the draw is significant, though not completely overwhelming, but very quickly begins rising at an alarming rate. While he could push it further, the main concern is the amount of heat being generated by the small portal at such ranges.

Not wanting to risk a burnout, the owl pitches south and turns west, reversing its course back towards Golden Hills. It makes its way towards his shop, entering through a window that seemingly opens itself upon its approach. With the body in direct physical contact with his plant, he severs the internal connection, withdraws the tendril back through the portal, and powers down the ring.

After several minutes of cooling, he once again pours power into it, watching from both ends as the process repeats and the connection reestablishes. The cost of activation proportionally increases at distance, but is not significantly higher than maintaining the opening.

The body is reabsorbed, leaving only a ring sitting on the floor of his office at his mom’s shop. The tendril once again withdraws, and the ring deactivates. It disappears in a flash, popping back into existence in a shallow enclosure just underground outside his house before being gently relocated back inside the room.

A large vine pokes up through the ground, the end of which forms into a clone of the colt with a vine attached to its withers. It begins pumping a hoof wildly in the air, cackling gleefully, and dancing in place for several minutes. With his excitement worked out of his system, the clone dissolves and its connected vine disappears back into the ground.

The remainder of the tube reemerges and the ceramic saw is once again readied.

Cure cracks his metaphorical knuckles and gets to work.

Author's Note

I wonder how many people will see the chapter title and expect a phoenix to show up...

Lots to digest in that one. First off, we get confirmation that at least some ponies know who Cure is. He's a thick, stocky build, so it's not really surprising that somepony who he has met and interacted with and who has intimate knowledge of his finances would recognize him, disguise or not. Would they accidentally greet him as such? Maybe. Catch me before my coffee and who knows what you'll get.

More bad news comes later - The fillies, RP in particular, are up for the GGG. Thankfully, he seems to have dodged the bullet for now, but, much to his dismay, it's coming eventually. And yes, as far as RP getting the short end of the stick, I do realize he bought her that sax, but a few hundred bits barely registers in his book.

I'm sure many of you are wondering why he's completely accepted that he and these girls are in a relationship. Keep in mind that they began pursuing him well before things started getting super crazy and loyalty is his big thing. He knows how hard it is for girls to find a dude, so as long as it isn't a toxic relationship he's perfectly fine going with the flow.

As far as Crowned Piece... I'm kinda surprised no one guessed such a thing may happen. If he had all the nerves and muscles then he would have a fully functional horn. Recall, if you will, that even with the basic horn 1.0 Cure briefly gave himself back during his first experiments he could fairly easily activate it and lift a rock. I suspect any future "give me a horn" requests will result in them being made of bone instead of the correct material, though.

As for the portals? Yeah, I saw people guessing almost immediately. I didn't go to a lot of effort to obscure it, though he did make a token effort to confuse both Midnight and whoever the goldsmith was by ordering a tube, which he can then cut down as needed. 10cm = 50 sets of rings, even if he has nowhere near enough crystals for all that. That may have been excessive, but he also ended up not needing relays every 100m along the rail lines. Better to have and not need, I suppose.

And in regards to those, a little math for your consideration...

Area of a circle = pi * r2
So half a centimeter would be 0.7854 cm2, roughly.

Unicorns stallions are, at the withers, eleven hooves on average, or about 112 cm tall. They could duck down when walking through, but let's be realistic and assume that a bunch of haughty unicorn mages would not do that. We'll round up to about 140cm in diameter for an area of slightly over 15,400 cm2. Therefore, the tiny portals would only need to use approximately .005% as much energy, in theory.

Cure's magic capacity may still be crap compared to a unicorn mage, but his regeneration is a few orders of magnitude larger thanks to his cheating BS, so 1/20000th is easily manageable. If we assume that the cost to maintain the portal increases by 20% every 100 meters and starts at 1/20000th, then it reaches a full unicorn civilian's draw at around 4.8km and a typical unicorn mage's at around 5.5 (keep in mind, we're still talking about the tiny portal of 1cm in diameter).

Of course, the 20% increase per 100m is rather arbitrary, but it would make the "5 unicorns to conjure a 1km portal" work out correctly too.

I make a valiant effort not to go back and change chapters, but I'm reserving the right to do exactly that here if I've fudged a number somewhere. I'm sure someone will check my math.

So now the question is, "How long could he possibly wait before showing off this new trick?"

Hmmmmmm

We'll see.

Thanks for reading, rating, and especially commenting, folks. Enjoy!

Chapter 100: Master of Puppets

Wednesday, August 26th, 909 AB (~ 5:00 the next morning)

Despite his late night, Cure’s excitement wakes him up earlier than everypony else. Extricating himself from the foal pony pile takes little effort, and he’s soon making his way out the door. Once in the hallway, his horn slides into place and he casts a Sound Bubble around himself before cracking open his parents’ door. He pokes his head in, relieved to find that they had remembered to clean up the night before, and silently slips up to his soundly snoozing first mother.

The pink mare is, thankfully, closer to the edge of the bed in a ponyloaf and, though snuggled against Vines’ side, isn’t buried underneath any of the other parents. His horn ignites, surrounding her in a protective field and, careful not to let any limbs or her tail dangle, lifts her up and away from everypony else. Once she’s clear of the bed, he rotates her and starts inching her towards the door.

He freezes when she begins to stir, still floating nearly a half meter above the floor and slightly more than one away from the door. A tendril emerges from his back wrapped around his Sound Bubble crystal just as her eyes fly open and head jerks up. Acting quickly, he activates the crystal to surround her as well and drags her closer so their bubbles overlap, setting her on the floor.

“... IN TARTARUS IS… Cure?!” She reaches over and latches onto the colt’s cheeks, hurriedly asking, “What’s wrong?! Is somepony com-”

“‘Mornin, ma,” he greets, cutting her off and leaning in for a nuzzle. “Nothin’s wrong, we’re not under attack or whatever,” he dismisses with a flick of his wing. He meets her eyes and broadly grins, unable to keep his back half from wagging in excitement. “It’s ready! I made six pairs last night!”

“What?!” she drowsily mumbles, looking around in confusion. “Six pairs of what and why would I care enough for you to wake me up early?!”

“The rings! I got the tube yesterday and made them all last night. They’re ready!” He hops closer, dismissing the Bubble around her and extending his own as he wraps her neck in a hug. “It’s so awesome, ma!” he gleefully declares, dancing on his hind hooves. “You said you wanted to be in on anything I do… Well, we have about an hour before they all wake up.”

Title somewhat reluctantly wraps her forelegs around his back and returns the hug. “I… do,” she sighs, transitioning to a yawn, “but, baby,” she softly admonishes, “not everypony has alicorn levels of energy, okay?”

He leans away to look her over in concern. “I’m sorry, mom. Want me to clear away the fog? Just say the word and you’ll feel like a million bits, promise.”

“Will I pass out later?”

“Maybe, but I can bring you cake again at lunch and give ya a pick-me-up.”

She doesn’t even have to think for a hundredth of a second. “Deal.” Cure can’t hold back the excited giggles, squeezing her tight again and planting a big kiss on her cheek. A split second of pure ice charges through her veins, perking the mare up in an instant and drawing another full-bodied shudder. “Wow! Ya oughta put that in a bottle, babe.”

He nods against her neck chuckling, “Would if I could safely. That’s an in-pony only cheat right there. You may conk out a little early tonight, but, meh.” He gives one last squeeze before he releases the mare, spins on his hooves, and beckons her to follow with a jerk of his head. “C’mon, ma! Let’s see what we can come up with.”

The two silently slip out of the room and make their way downstairs, turning right and hopping up on a couch in the back living room with him snuggling into her side. “So here’s the star of the show,” he begins, floating a pair of rings out of his mane.

Title takes it in her hoof and looks it over, marveling at the tiny glyphs etched into its surface. “Huh. Neat,” she comments, flipping it over in her TK field. “Why’s this side blank?”

“That’s the back. The portals a bi-directional, but… huh… I’m not sure how to describe it. So, if the portal is open then something can go in either ring and come out the other, right?”

“Okay.”

“But they have to go into each ring in the right direction. So the side with the etchings?” he prompts her to turn it back over. “That’s the usable side. Everything either has to go in through or come out of this side. The other side has a forcefield that will prevent anything from touching it.”

“Why?”

He gives a small shrug and admits, “I’m not really sure about the underlying physics of the whole thing, honestly. The book I read didn’t give a concise explanation that was tested with anything I would call a legitimate scientific process. It was all just conjecture based on the observed effect, more or less.” He bobs his head side-to-side and adds, “I can’t completely blame them. Observing stuff on a scale like that is pretty difficult without some advanced machinery, or, I guess, the appropriate spells.

“Bottom line? If something comes in contact with the back of the portal when it isn’t shielded then it gets destroyed at the atomic level and, with enough matter hitting, can destroy the ring itself. Even enough wind was a problem since, ya know, air is still matter. It doesn’t sound like it created a vacuum, but on a windy day?” He grunts, shaking his head, “Yeah, no bueno. It only took a few ruined rings before they clued in and added the symbols necessary to create a solid shield panel on the back; one specifically designed to stop even air from passing through, unlike normal unicorn shield spells.”

“They normally don’t stop wind?”

“Sort of? They normally stop anything beyond a certain level of force, so like a wind blade?” She nods. “It would get stopped. Normal airflow is fine, otherwise they would run out of oxygen and pass out. That’s an especially fantastic vulnerability for me since I can gas somepony right through a shield, but we’re kinda gettin off topic.”

She cranes her neck to nip at his right ear. “You tend to do that.”

“Fair,” he agrees, reflexively flapping his ear free, giving the mare a small slap on her chin. “Honestly, I’m not sure why they didn’t go with the easy solution and mount a metal plate on the back. Maybe it interfered with the portal somehow. Either way, think of the separate rings as one solid object and everything makes a bit more sense. Watch.”

Title watches on impassively as the colt’s hooves seem to melt and flow up past his fetlocks. The ends of his forelegs split apart and lengthen, extending into the hands and fingers he typically uses for massages when he gives them himself. He picks up the ring laid on the couch in his right hand and takes the other from her hoof with his left, channeling magic from right to left. The etchings on the rings briefly glow brown, then the portal springs to life from one instant to the next.

He holds the one in his left hand up for her to look through while moving the right one around. “See? It’s almost like a telescope, sort of, the way it looks. Of course, the… I don’t think event horizon is correct, but the actual surface of the portal is, I suspect, either a single atom thick or, maybe, even thinner. I kinda bet it’s depth is effectively zero, which I would have sworn is impossible before last night. Either way,” he pauses as his smallest finger bends in a way Title doesn’t think should be possible and pokes through the portal, emerging from the other ring and wiggling about, “see?”

“Huh. Wild.”

“Yeah, no shit. Watch this,” he says, withdrawing his finger and holding both rings so the openings face up. He levitates a small pellet-like object over the left one and releases it a couple hooves above the ring. It falls straight down, passing through the portal, immediately popping back out the right one before rising, slowing, and falling back down again. “I can’t even tell you how long I just stared at this last night, giggling like an idiot the whole time.”

Title can’t deny that it’s oddly mesmerizing to see. The two sit in silence for several seconds watching the pellet rise and fall, alternating between one portal and the other. Finally, after it emerges from the left portal, Cure tilts the right one at an angle. The pellet eventually falls back down through the left portal and flies out of the right one, arcing in a weak trajectory and rolling away.

“Huh,” she grunts again. “That is weirdly hypnotic, isn’t it?”

“It is,” he easily agrees.

“So what happens if you hold one over the other and just let the thing keep falling?”

“Ya know, the story I read that I got this whole idea from did something like that. The plan was to use it as an infinite power generator. It could probably work, but I suspect there’s some kind of inherent cost or effect I’m not considering like heat buildup. I know the number is small to the point of being nearly inconsequential, but that’s a whole separate thing that I’m not really worried about right now.”

He pauses and lightly chuckles, shaking his head in disbelief. “Potential infinite energy and it barely even matters to me. I guess I could ask Celestia if she knows how to convert lightning back into magic, but I ain’t exactly hurtin for power right now anyhow.”

“Honey?” she lightly calls, raising her brow when he glances her way.

“Right. Your question. Sorry, ma.” She rolls her eyes and makes a “get on with it” motion with her hoof. “So, yeah, what would happen is the pellet would just keep going faster until the acceleration from gravity would equal the deceleration from the friction of air. If I put it into a vacuum tube then I suspect it would just keep accelerating infinitely, which is fucking terrifying even for a tiny pellet.”

“What? Why? It’s can’t weigh more than a few grams…” she starts to argue, stopping when he strongly shakes his head no.

“I can’t begin to tell you how dangerous infinite acceleration is, mom. The formula for the kinetic energy of an object is mass times velocity squared. Even a couple grams going fast enough would hit with the force of a bomb. Not even a small bomb. I’m talking like… city blocks, just gone.”

The mare’s ears fold back as she recoils at the image. “Yeaaaah… let’s not do that.”

“Ya think?” he sarcastically asks. “I’m betting the rings would overheat and fry at some point, or the magic expenditure would be too great, but I wouldn’t want to be anywhere nearby when that happened if they got up to speed.” He pauses and cocks his head to the side, musing, “I suppose it would be an interesting way to make a time bomb. Have my plant burrow under a building and start the process, then just sit back and wait.”

She jostles him with her right foreleg knee and gives him a disappointed look.

“I’m just saying,” he defensively argues.

“As fascinating as this is, and it is fascinating, what’s the plan for the others? I’m not super fond of the idea of confusing the foals, so if you’re gonna do something, it’s gotta be before they’re up.”

“Yeah, I know. I’m honestly not really sure what I can do that’ll be funny, though. I mean… I briefly considered having them come down and find two of me eating breakfast or something may be good for a chuckle, but I’ve kinda raised the bar on their expectations.”

She begrudgingly nods in agreement. “Yeah… that’s not really very different from the whole suit prank, too.”

“Right. I mean, I could do some fucked up weird stuff, but there’s a pretty fine line between funny and… I dunno? Offensive? Upsetting?” She cocks her brow in question, silently asking for an example. “So imagine I’m sitting there eating and, all the sudden, grab my stomach and moan.” He deactivates the rings in his hands and tosses one in his mouth and the other in his mane, then sits up while scooting away from her.

Title is momentarily alarmed when he does just that; she begins to sit up when he grabs his belly and doubles over, whining while clutching his gut with both hands. “Oh no,” he deadpans, calming her back down. He woodenly continues, “I think I am going to be sick. Gag, choke,” he says rather than acts out. Holding a hand up to stop her from worrying, he pauses and puffs out his cheeks.

Despite his reassurance, the pink mare is somewhat alarmed when a bulge travels up his throat and into his mouth. He turns and spits out an egg which, somehow, doesn’t crack open when it hits the floor and rolls away.

“What the fuck, Cure?!” she asks in a raised voice, a hint of panic creeping in.

In lieu of answering, he just waves to the egg. It only takes a second for the egg to splinter, revealing a blue muzzle poking through. Hooves poke through below that and, very quickly, the entire side of the egg collapses, revealing a tiny earth pony copy of the colt. As it gets to its hooves it begins growing rapidly, quickly enlarging itself as it looks around in wonder.

Its gaze focuses on the colt and it cocks its head to the side. “Daddy?” it asks, in a small, squeaky voice. “Daddy!” it repeats, toddling its way to the couch. It grows several months worth in size as it approaches the couch before it climbs up and wraps its little forelegs around Cure’s hip in a hug.

“So imagine that,” he answers, “but at the table during breakfast or something. And, no, that’s not a real foal. It’s just a puppet with no brain that I’m controlling through the connected portals.”

“Even knowing that,” she nods to the bits of egg shell still sitting on the floor, “that’s fucked up.”

“Be glad I shot it out my mouth. As long as I can make the opening at least three centimeters I coulda done that out of wherever.”

The mare grimaces, shuddering at the idea of that shooting out of him anywhere else. “Ugh… yeah, don’t do that.”

“Dam?” the tiny clone asks, looking in her direction.

“That’s not funny,” she insists, crinkling her snout in disgust.

“Yeah, dude, enough,” Cure agrees.

“Fuck you, fatass,” the clone replies, shoving the colt’s hip and knocking himself over in the process. Title has to stifle a chuckle at hearing such a tiny, squeaky voice cuss like that. It rolls to its rump and sits up, squaring off with the colt before oddly thrusting a forehoof in an upwards motion with his other foreleg crossed overtop at the knee, staring daggers the whole time.

Cure reaches down and grabs the clone by its scruff, holding it at eye level. “Don’t mess with me, bro,” he threatens. “I ate the last pony that got smart with me.”

“Bring it, ya pussy!” the clone challenges, swinging his hooves in wild punches, unable to reach the colt’s snout.

“Don’t do it,” Title calls out in warning. Both turn to look at her with matching pouts. “Seriously, I know you would, but don’t. I don’t need to have nightmares where you’re running around eating foals, okay?”

“Fiiine!” they whine in stereo. The clone goes limp, which is unsettling enough for Title to witness, and begins shrinking back down in size. Its coat changes into leafy foliage as it continues diminishing until the last of it is pulled back through the ring into the colt’s interior. It’s odd to watch an object apparently shrinking into nothing, but after only a moment the only thing left is the golden ring sitting in Cure’s palm.

“I guess I made my point either way. I’m not exactly sure what I could do that would be shocking enough to be funny without being so shocking that it crosses a line somewhere.”

“Yeah, I get what you mean,” she agrees. “Question.”

“Hm?”

“Is there really a body double coming here this weekend?”

“I only have enough rings to cover about twenty or, if I really stretched it, maybe thirty kilometers and Canterlot’s about five hundred away, so yes. There is. She’ll be here before I leave Saturday. I don’t know her real name, but -”

“Her?”

“... yes. Her. Allegedly,” he adds with a shrug. “I mean, her special talent is casting an Illusion that’s so real it might as well be shapeshifting, so she could be either. Or both.”

“And you’re not concerned she’s one of those changelings?”

“I would have been a few months back, but Celestia’s implemented security measures, supposedly, even if I don’t have the utmost faith in them. I’m still scanning her either way. Gotta let my plant know not to treat her like an intruder.”

Title gives the colt a critical look, cocking a brow in question. “How, exactly, does your plant know if somepony is an intruder?”

“Scent, colors, height, weight, facial structure, body heat, waste output, denti-”

She waves her hooves in the air for him to stop. “Wait, wait, wait. Go back one.”

“Waste output?”

“Yeah. That. What’s that mean?”

“Exactly what it sounds like?” he answers with a questioning lilt.

“You’re scanning our poop?!”

“I scan poop every time I scan anything, mom. I don’t get the privilege of not seeing ponies’ bowels, ballsacks, sinus cavities, how much semen is in their vaginal cavities,” he gives her a meaningful look, earning a blush in return, “or anything else when I scan them, ma.”

“Oh. Yeah, I guess you’ve said that before, huh?”

“Once or twice, maybe,” he scoffs.

“How’s your plant know who is who without you there scanning stuff, though?”

“Gut bacteria is as unique as anything else, ma. Moreso than most things, in fact. The plant doesn’t have intelligence, but it’s smart enough to notice when a pony goes potty and it’s not the right stuff. If it detects something’s wrong it’ll hit them with the ‘alarm’ scent marker I showed you all so you can go from there.”

“Oh. That seems a little…”

“Invasive?”

“Yeah. That.”

Cure gives a helpless shrug. “That’s my talent in a nutshell, ma. You’re barely scratching the surface as far as how invasive I could be. There was a book written about the government spying on their own citizens to ensure obedience.” He pauses and tits his head to the side, admitting, “I think. He never actually read it.

“Regardless, it created this concept of ‘Big Brother’ who was always watching you. Attend a rally for a politically subversive group? Big Brother knows. Shop at a store owned by a trouble maker? Big Brother knows. Express concerns or your dissatisfaction with society to your family or friends? You get the picture.

“Check off too many boxes and, maybe, someday, Big Brother will come pay a visit and you, your family, whoever, may just up and ‘disappear.’” He finds the fact that, for once, he can actually mime air quotes with proper fingers to be oddly satisfying.

“That… sounds terrifying.”

“I’m pretty sure that was the point. Either way, what I’m getting at is that I could easily be Big Brother. I don’t and I wouldn’t, unless something extreme happened, but I could have eyes, ears, and noses all over the city. I could be in the sewers analyzing everything. I have perfect memory, so I could, theoretically, keep track of everypony’s every move.

“The cloud cities may be more difficult, but with these,” he holds up a ring, “I could just rent a few buildings or buy a few houses and fill them with surveillance mechanisms. Making somecreature disappear without a trace would be foalsplay.

“Imagine I find those thieves that tried to jump me, Dawn, and Solar and decide they need to go away for good. I keep an eye on ‘em and follow them home. They go to bed like normal and, bam, I dart ‘em and teleport them away. Maybe replace them with a fake,” he holds up the ring again, “and have them tell everypony about a sweet job offer they got in Vanhoover or Las Pegasus and how they’re moving away this weekend. Next thing ya know, they’re just gone.”

“That’s… that’s messed up, Cure.”

“No shit. Especially when I could do it all while hiding my real body half a kilometer underground. Or underwater in the ocean.”

“You know…” she sighs, “you kinda suck at planning pranks. This was supposed to be fun. Now I’m wishin you’d just left me in bed.”

“Sorry, ma. It’s just that I can’t think of anything that’s shocking enough to be funny without being so shocking that somepony ends up either grossed out or afraid of me.”

“Start by not pretending to eat newborn foals, or, better yet, by not horking them up to begin with. That was kinda fucked up to watch, even if you kinda warned me.”

“Fair,” he agrees. “Perfect example, but fair. There’s also the whole traumatizing dam even further thing.”

“How so?”

“She’s kind of, sort of lost me twice in the last twelve months, mom. What effect do you think having a second ‘Cure’ pop up would have if I didn’t warn her first?”

Title can’t hide the wince from that one. “Oh. Shit. Yeah, that’s a good point.”

“Exactly. It’s the same thing with Celestia and her sister. I always have to really watch what I say or do because ‘a how bad it messed her up. Remember a few weeks back when I popped in lookin like a yak?”

The mare snorts a laugh, bobbing her head. “You looked absolutely ridiculous with the horns and stuff.”

“Yeah, well imagine how devastating it would be if I popped in there lookin like Luna.”

“Probably best not to find out,” she agrees.

“No doubt,” he agrees, sighing as he considers other options. A number of ideas run through his mind. He could fly or run around town in his unicorn or pegasus disguise, slightly altered, and let the fillies barely catch sight of him while Serpentus is working. It doesn’t strike him as terribly funny, though. Sure, it would be confusing for them, and maybe a little amusing, but it hardly seems worth the effort for a quick laugh. Besides, Dawn saw his act with the Solar clone, so she would probably clue in pretty quickly.

He finally sighs, withdraws his horn, and climbs between her forelegs. He flops on his back, and reaches up in invitation. She happily accepts, flopping down on his chest, humming in contentment when he reaches up with both hands and starts massaging her ears. “I’m kinda comin up empty, ma. Sure, I could mess with a few ponies for a chuckle or two, but… I dunno. I kinda already did the ‘evil twin’ gag with Dawn, I feel like the others will just roll their eyes, and I’m not super keen on the idea of messin with you all or the foals.

“I think it may be best if I use the rings like I planned. You know, show up around town as me while his highness is at the hospital healing. Maybe have my different Riddle disguises run around some to throw ponies off.”

“Think you can manage that?” she asks, pausing to slurp back up the drools that almost leaked onto his chest. “Seems like it’d be hard controlling two things at once like that.”

“Sure. I doubt I could use magic in both spots at once without a lot of practice, but I should be able to walk around and hang out just fine while healing ponies. With a copper wire also running through them I might as well be right there. I don’t know if it’s necessary, but I’ve kept non-paired rings at least a half meter apart, so even with all of them running I’m only a few meters away, more or less.”

His mom hums in acknowledgement, eyes drooping as his calming ministrations lull her back to sleepiness. “Jeez, ma, if you’re that tired then let’s get you back to bed.”

“‘s relaxin. Shhh.”

He rolls his eyes and huffs out a small sigh, but still wiggles enough to free his wings from between his sides and her forelegs. He stretches them out and down, enlarging them to wrap her in a feathery cocoon.

Eh, I guess I don’t actually have to do anything to my friends. Maybe just playing dumb will be fun enough. I guess bugging Mrs. Gem to keep this all secret was kind of a waste of time.

“So… what?” Amethyst asks, “Yer going to just walk ‘round town?”

“My puppet will, yes. I will be at the hospital, unfortunately. I need to be in case I have to disconnect the portal for some reason. My puppet can dive in a bush, go home, or go to the shop and disappear for a bit. I can’t risk having that happen at the hospital. Of course, if I hadn’t told you then you’d never have known the difference.”

“Some unicorn might be able to tell something is up,” Title suggests.

He tilts his head in consideration and shrugs, “Dunno, being inside of living matter kinda fudges up most forms of detection. The boss lady might be able to detect the open portal, but I have my doubts.”

“Wouldn’t bet on it, colt,” his sire disagrees. “Reckon the princess has just ‘bout seen it all. I ain’t ever heard’a nopony doin somethin as crazy as all’a that, but even still, she can probably pick up there’s a connection goin somewhere.”

“That’s the thing, pa, technically there isn’t. There isn’t some kind of tube running from the portal to the other one. By all accounts, the surface of the portal exists in two places simultaneously. Don’t think of them as being two rings. Think of them as two halves of one ring and it makes a bit more sense how it all works.”

He cocks his head to the side and paws at his chin in thought before continuing, “Sort of. I mean, functionally that’s right, but obviously the rings are two separate physical places, but the portal isn’t. And no, there wasn’t an explanation as to exactly how that works.”

Vines completely fails to suppress the excitement in her posture. His dam’s lower half wiggles merrily and her eyes nearly sparkle with hope when she asks, “Does that mean you can spend the day with us while you work?”

Cure pops the last bite of his oats into his mouth, sets down his spoon, hops off his booster, briskly trots around Amethyst on his left, sits on his rump, and holds his forelegs out wide in offering to his dam. “I’m yours all day, dam.”

The mare pounces in an instant, giggling madly as she pins her eldest to the floor. Cure dutifully allows her to groom and nuzzle into his chest, neck, and chin, paying no mind to bits of breakfast she hadn’t washed down or the teasing comments from the other parents. The cooing, delighted mess only calms when the twins, curious what is going on and slightly envious of the attention, start nosing and bonking at her forelegs.

The pair are quickly swept off their hooves and deposited on his chest, only to be squished between their dam and brother.

Vines couldn’t imagine being any happier. She’ll finally be able to spend days with all of her foals together, something that hasn’t been possible since her son’s coronation. The work he’s doing is amazing, and she understands why it’s so important, but despite the hundreds of ponies he’s helping, she wants to spend time with her son before he’s all grown up.

A single year. That’s all the time she has left before he’ll be gone, attending classes in Canterlot. Every parent knows their time with their foals is limited, but to have so much taken away so suddenly has been harder than she’d ever imagined.

Cure, pinned on his back with a sibling smushed in each legpit, can easily admit he’d never expected his dam to reply so strongly. He can only wrap her head in a hug while being careful not to hurt Golden and Blazer while she begins literally crying on top of the three of them. He chances a look to his right, cocking a brow at Amethyst to silently ask what he should do.

Fortunately, his sire soon moves in to comfort her, petting on her right as her joyous laughter dies off and she begins sobbing in earnest. “There, there, babe. He ain’t goin nowhere. Ya got tha whole mornin ta spend with all three ‘a yer foals, so don’t go gettin yerself all worked up a’fore the day even starts.”

“It’s just,” she begins, hiccuping mid-sob, “everything has changed so much! I never know what’s coming next!” Amethyst has stopped eating and turned, laying against Vines’ left to rest her chin on her withers. Lemon and Title join in too, the former resting her head on Vines’ back while the latter lays down in front of them, nuzzling at the pair. Not wanting to be left out, Savvy hops from her seat, flapping over to land on the pile and nuzzles down into Vines’ yellow mane.

Surrounded by her family, the distraught mare finally calms, sighing and resting her weight on her son. Blazer squirming to escape has her sitting up and smiling fondly at the three foals. “Sorry,” she meekly apologizes to everypony, “I don’t know what came over me.”

All four of her spouses accept the apology, dismissing the need for it at all.

“It’s alright, dam,” Cure warmly insists. Voice dripping with exaggerated sympathy, he reaches up to pat on her cheek, saying, “It’s not your fault that all females are at least slightly unhinged.” Deed can’t help but snort out a laugh. “It’s just the way y’all are made. You can’t help that yer all a little nuts, unlike me ‘n pa.”

“Hey, I’m sane,” Lemon weakly argues. Amethyst gives her a doubtful look. “Mostly.”

Vines sighs, rolling her eyes at her son. Inappropriate and, given he’s surrounded on all sides by mares, foolish as his accusation is, the levity it brought broke the dour mood she’d afflicted the room with.

“What’s wrong with me?” Title demands in a pout.

“There’s a sugar cream pie in the fridge, ma,” Cure answers, barely finishing before the pink blur zips away. “Yeah, no mental issues there,” he sardonically observes.

He raises a challenging brow to Amethyst who snorts and shakes her head. “I ain’t never claimed ta be sane, colt, but I reckon even you got me beat on the ‘ol bonkers scale.”

“Fair,” he easily agrees. “Not that I don’t enjoy a good snuggle pile, dam, but I gotta get to the hospital. Do you want to see how this whole thing works?”

She plants one last kiss on her son’s chin and, once the others move to give her room, lets him and the newborns up.

Title returns to the table, pie in hoof, and watches as Cure noses at his siblings’ brows before moving to the hallway between the dining room and the stairs. A vine descends from the ceiling as he begins explaining, “So just like I did with Solar, I can make a puppet of myself, minus a brain, of course.”

Amethyst opens her mouth, but is cut off when the colt says, in her voice, “So just like the real you, huh?” She pouts for a second before shrugging and giving him a begrudging nod. “Yeah,” he continues in his own voice, “I made that joke with him too. Anyhow, this,” he pulls a ring from under his wing as the ball of leaves steadily grows, “will go in the puppet’s cranium. Its brain will be about ninety percent complete. It has all the bits necessary to run a body and move, but won’t have the brain bits for memory or all of the parts for decision making.”

He pauses to cram the ring into the mass before continuing, “Its paired ring will be at the shop buried in my plant there since that’s more central to the town. Another ring in the shop will connect to a plant I have buried along the train line to Baltimare.” He pauses when Lemon raises a hoof. “Yes?”

“You have plants along the tracks?”

“I do. I planted them about three weeks ago in preparation for this.”

“You’ve been planning this for almost a month?”

“Yep! I started planning this the day after the girls told me that ponies know my identity. Anyhow, I have five more sets of rings, enough to cover the distance from there to the hospital, with the last ring inside my neck hooked directly into my nervous system. So this,” he says, prodding the now fully formed earth pony clone, “will sit here in a state of sleep until I can fly to work and get all the portals open and wired.”

“And how long will that take?” Vines asks, eyeing the clone warily.

“Twenty minutes, give or take. Maybe a few extra since I need to stick the rings into each plant along the route. Just keep in mind, I’ve not tried this before, so I may seem a little out of it until I get used to piloting around a second body.”

Spending the morning with his dam, mom, and all his little sisters and brother has been absolutely wonderful. Moving the puppet isn’t as challenging as he’d feared, though he wouldn’t trust himself to do anything that required a great deal of attention. Still, following his dam, snuggling on her side while the foals play, engaging in idle chit-chat, and the like are easy enough.

The three are enjoying a lazy morning in the shade of a tree, keeping watch over Cherry and Lotus as they run and play with the other foals at the park near their old house. Vines and Amethyst have Blazer and Golden lying between them with Cure on Vines’ left.

His dam can tell when her son is busy seeing a patient. The body by her side is comforting, and even if it isn’t quite the same, that he is at least here, spending time with her still means the world to the mare. The bouts of silence when he is distracted are easily noticeable, even if he does his best to pay attention during conversation.

“Sorry I’m kinda out of it, dam,” he mumbles, pressing his cheek against her shoulder. “This’ll get better with practice. Right now it’s kinda like writing two different words on a chalkboard, one with each hoof, at the same time.”

“It’s okay, sweetie. I can’t tell you how excited I am to have you around more. Even if the circumstances are… well, frankly, kind of odd.”

“Yeah. You think it’s odd for you? I’m helping a poor mare with lymphedema so bad she looks like a balloon animal.”

“Cure!” The effectiveness of his dam’s scolding is diminished by Amethyst’s snorted laugh.

“What? I’m sympathetic, believe me. Don’t pretend you don’t see ponies with something horrible wrong with them sometimes and, instead of only thinking ‘Wow, that poor creature’ you also think ‘I feel like I should have to buy a ticket to see something like that.’”

“I don’t think most ponies’ minds work like that, Cure,” she harshly disagrees.

Further discussion is cut off by a yell from above. “Cure?!” Glacial calls as she and Drift swoop in for a landing only a few meters from the tree the five of them are resting under.

“Well hey there, gorgeous. How’s two of the three prettiest pegasi on the planet?”

“I thought you -” she begins, interrupted when Drift cuts in asking, “Two of the three? What the hay is going on between you and my sister!?”

The colt scoffs, shaking his head no. “Wind doesn’t count. Sure she’s a looker, but I don’t think it’s fair to count anypony I’ve done work on.”

“Then who…?”

“G’s dam, obviously,” he says, motioning to the platinum pegasus. “Yer granddam’s a total hottie too, bee-tee-dubs. Now, at least.” Glacial’s snout wrinkles in disgust while Drift sports her typical annoyed and angry default look.

“Behave, Cure,” his dam quietly admonishes. “Hello, girls,” she warmly greets, “How are you two doing today?”

The two trade greetings with his dam, mom, and share a couple nuzzles with the babies before settling on his side. Glacial climbs half on Drift’s withers and leans in close to whisper, “Why aren’t you working today? I thought you worked every Wednesday.”

“Remember that whole thing yesterday at lunch about the holiday party?”

Drift snorts, nodding as she asks, “When you almost blew your top?”

Vines’ head whips around to look at her son in question.

“I didn’t blow my top,” he snaps back. “I just got a little annoyed because ponies apparently can’t help but run around talkin about stuff they shouldn’t.” The last part of which is said while shooting the purple filly a meaningful look. The grimace and apologetic look he gets in response tells him it was more of an accidental slip than her intentionally tattling to his parents.

“Cure…”

“It’s that stupid Hearth’s Warming bullcrap again, dam! Dawn heard about ‘some colt that was threatening other foals at the party with a steel beam,’” he sarcastically explains, waiving a hoof menacingly in the air. “Apparently the right thing to do would have been to let the bully prick that’s probably three years older than me treat me like dirt.”

Drift, now looking slightly worried, stares at his mane waiting for it to start flickering. She exhales a sigh of relief when nothing happens.

Vines rolls her eyes and goes back to loving on Golden. “You need to stop letting that bother you so much.”

“It’s a work in progress,” he deflects. “Anyhow,” he leans against the fillies to whisper, “I told the hospital that if they can’t keep things like that under wraps then I doubt they can manage other need-to-know topics, so I told them I wouldn’t be back until they clean house and get rid of everypony that can’t help but run their mouths.”

Both fillies look horrified, not even noticing Vines’ exasperated sigh or Amethyst’s quiet chuckle.

“I figure once a few gossip hounds lose their jobs I can start back up. It probably won’t be for a few weeks after I get back from the competition, though. Shame about all the ponies that traveled from out of town today and Friday, but hey… if they have enough time to be flappin their muzzles about gossip with me there then maybe they’ll be busy enough to focus on their jobs without me taking care of all the serious cases for ‘em.”

“Cure!” Glacial recoils away as much as she can without throwing Drift off her. “That’s awful! Think of how hard it was for everypony to travel from…” she trails off at his quiet laughter, horrified at the way he’s behaving.

“Cure, enough,” his dam chastises.

He rolls his whole head and sighs. “Fiiine!” He motions the fillies both closer so he can softly explain, “The truth is, I am at the hospital. Long story short, I made several small portal rings that are connected to each other. This,” he taps his chest, “isn’t me. It’s a puppet that I’m controlling from my office at the hospital.”

“Cow manure!” Drift hisses. “That has to be the most unfair thing ever!”

“True, but can you think of a better way to put to bed those rumors flyin around about who his highness is?”

“Oh.”

“Exactly. Right now I can’t do anything too difficult because it’s hard enough paying attention to two things at once. Like flying… I don’t trust myself flying just yet. Maybe with some practice, but I can’t go too far from town because of the range on the portals.”

“How far can you go?”

“While I’m working? About three or four kilometers from mom’s candy store. Any further and it takes a lot more magic and the portal can burn out.”

“So… you’re going to be able to be in two places at once?”

“Yep. Eventually. Once I get better at managing two sets of data at the same time, which isn’t easy. I’m having to really concentrate on not saying any of this from my real body.”

“Huh. That’s… insane.”

“Welcome to my life,” he responds with an agreeing nod. “I have a whole list of crazy things I can do with this too. Since it’s not my real body I can change it however I want. I thought about showing up at the guard station as a big guard dog with official orders. Figured it would be funny to run around causing havoc with Sgt. Haze and them.”

“No, Cure,” his dam interrupts. “No pretending to be a guard dog.”

“I know, I know. It would be kinda weird acting like a real dog anyhow. Having ponies tell me to sit and roll over or scratch my belly? Or if they just locked the dog in a cage to deal with later. That would suck, and that’s not even considering what they would do if they somehow found out it was me.”

Glacial giggles at the suggestion. “Or if one of them tries to take you home as a pet.”

“Exactly.”

“What would you do even if they believed it? Run around and pee on things? It’s not like there’s any crime around here.”

“That would be awkward too,” he agrees. “I do have some funny ideas and, so long as I do them while I’m at one of my jobs, nopony should be the wiser.”

“Cure,” his dam calls in warning.

“Nothing harmful, mom. Maybe like… put up ‘Missing Pet Pig - 500 Bit Reward’ posters around town then run around as a super slippery, oiled up piggy, slipping out of ponies grasp all day. Can you imagine a stampede of ponies all trying to catch me and the chaos that would be unleashed?”

“I don’t think that much chaos is a good thing,” she meaningfully points out.

A full-bodied shudder passes through the colt as it registers. “Fair. Still, I can do goofy crap at the hospital too. Imagine a day where weird talking animals all keep showing up asking to see his highness to get patched up. Like, a freaking talking otter scooting through the lobby or something.” Both girls are giggling at the idea. “Just seeing ponies’ reactions to the craziness, even if nothing is happening… it would be hilarious.”

“Can you do a parrot?! I could bring you home and you could say all kinds of crazy stuff to my sire and sister!”

“Eh, how long would it be funny and what would you do when they eventually found out?”

“It would be absolutely hilarious!” she insists.

“For you it would be,” Glacial points out. “Wind would be ticked off. Your parents might be pretty angry too. Mine would be annoyed if I did that.”

“See? That’s the problem right there,” he argues. “Lots of things are funny for a moment, but once the shock wears off it’s like… meh. Then it gets weird and uncomfortable.”

“What about pretending to be other ponies? Like… look like me and we both go home and say there was an accident or something.”

“That’s a terrible idea,” he dismisses. “First off, I suspect a lot of ponies already know I can do stuff like that, but seeing me actually do it? That’s super creepy. I teased your sister about us being twins for her modeling thing. Did the whole color, height, and whatnot, but not everything. She freaked the heck out.”

“Cure! You’re not supposed to be doing stuff like that to ponies!”

“I know, dam! It was just Wind when we were alone and only for a moment. Besides, I stopped as soon as she started losin her marbles. Lesson learned.”

She sighs and shakes her head. “Honestly. I feel like I should be grounding you or something. I can’t imagine what the princess would say.”

“Oh don’t worry. I’ll eventually show her, too.” Visions of an independent Sunny Skies puppet, one that can carry a foal for real, come to mind. That… that right there is the gift nopony else can give her. “She may not be as adverse to the idea as you think.” Yep. Forget pink pearl jewelry. That right there is what the mare that has everything needs for Hearth’s Warming.

The colt is brought out of his thoughts when Glacial pokes him with her right forehoof and cocks a brow in question. “Sorry, what? Paying attention to two things at the same time is hard.”

“I asked if you wanted to go get some snacks or something. We’re already done making our deliveries for the day, so even if you can’t go flying we could hang out.”

“I’d be delighted to after work, if you want, but for now… I think I’m going to just hang out with the foals for a while. I haven’t really gotten to spend much time during the summer just being with them, ya know?”

“You can go with your friends if you want, Cure,” his dam insists.

“Nah, it’s fine. Besides, like I said, I’m still kinda getting used to moving around and stuff. I don’t want to drop my brownie or something dumb like that. I only have about two more hours at the hospital anyhow.”

“Go on, honey,” she says, nudging his side with her foreleg knee. “The whole point was to be seen around town. Go be seen.” More softly, she adds, “It’s okay, sweetheart. Really.”

Despite her assurance, he can’t help but feel a little guilty going with the girls after his dam’s breakdown this morning. At the same time, sitting there and arguing with her probably won’t help at all. Besides, the girls will be in school by the time he gets back from the competition, so he’ll be able to spend every morning with her soon enough.

“Feel free ta teleport somethin to us if yer up to it,” his mom suggests. “Reckon Title and yer sire wouldn’t be heartbroken if ya sent them a treat, too.”

He sighs and bobs his head in acceptance, getting to his hooves once the fillies give him enough room to stand. With a round of departing nuzzles the three set off further in towards town.

The trip into town was rather uneventful. Cure paid special attention to ponies’ reactions as he and the girls made their way around town. He had figured that only a few ponies were aware of his identity, but the dozens of bewildered stares he got when ponies caught sight of him made him suspect a whole lot more know than he’d anticipated. The Dough sisters, in particular, actually paused to look at the calendar hanging on the wall when he trotted through the door.

He sets a Sound Bubble on the table and leans to his right, brushing against Glacial as he says, “I can smell their confusion from here. Did you see when they both disappeared in the back room at the same time?”

“Yeah.”

He rotates his ears forwards and back and nods to the swinging door. “They were checking the delivery schedule to make sure it’s Wednesday. Apparently they get restocked every Thursday and were wondering if the delivery pony was running late. I’ll have to do this again once I get more coordinated... you know, come here with my ‘cousins from Hollow Shades’ or something so they can see the three of us at once.”

“Three of you?” Drift echoes. “How many could you do at the same time?”

Cure’s snout scrunches in thought as he considers the possibility. “I dunno, honestly. It’s not entirely impossible for me to expand on this. Or offload more of the processing into my puppets. I mean, as long as they don’t have a hippocampus and their prefrontal cortex is limited then the puppets aren’t really ‘alive,’ ya know?”

A quick glance to his left shows that, no, she does not know. “The hippocampus is where we store memories and the prefrontal cortex is where we make decisions. What’s up here,” he taps at his noggin, “is the bare necessities to move, process sights, sounds, and smells, and manage all the autonomic body functions. Heartbeat, respiration, etcetera. I’m basically sending a command through the portal that says ‘eat the brownie,’ okay?”

Drift nods in understanding.

“What really goes across the link is a set of instructions on how exactly a brownie should be eaten. It tells the puppet to reach down, use its telekinesis to pick the brownie up without crushing it, breaking it apart, or actually letting it touch my hoof, then move it to my muzzle for me to take a bite. The sensation of flavor is processed in my head, then sent back over the link as a memory of what it tastes like, along with a million other things you don’t really think about as you go about your normal day.”

The filly looks between her muffin and her foreleg and considers all that. “That sounds like a nightmare.”

“It’s not that bad,” he insists. “I mean, it’s a little odd, granted, but the bottom line is that aside from the basic command to do something, I don’t really have to consciously do a whole lot. Conversation is harder, but I can kind of pass instruction through in bunches. So, for example, I sent over the instructions to say all of this in a fraction of a second while I’m talking to my patient at the same time. I just have to pause for a fraction of a second to consider what happens next, then pass that over and let it play out. Hence why I’m not sure about flying just yet.”

“So if you practice more...?” she leadingly asks.

“Then, in theory, this’ll get easier. Especially if I build something designed specifically to manage it all. As long as I keep those things inside my real body then I don’t have to worry about a puppet suddenly cutting its strings or whatever.”

Both girls lean away from the colt, looking at him with no small amount of alarm. He rolls his eyes and insists, “Again, that can’t happen. If the portal closes then this thing is basically braindead. It’ll breathe and it won’t poop itself or anything, but that’s all it’ll do. Just don’t freak out if it suddenly looks like I fell asleep or something, okay?”

Glacial shakes her head, nervously arguing, “I’m pretty sure I’ll freak out a little if you just suddenly fall over, puppet or not.”

“Like I said, it would look more like I’m asleep than anything. I’ll just kinda slump over.” He inclines his head in thought and considers aloud, “Maybe I should make a failsafe where I start snoring and close my eyes.”

“That would be a good idea,” she urgently agrees. “Maybe we should tell the others just to be safe.”

“You’re heavier than a bull,” Drift grumbles. “It would be a lot easier to have Dawn levitate you than it would be to get you on one of our backs.”

“True. I wasn’t really planning on messing with you all too much anyhow, I guess. How about we head to the shop and have them all come over this afternoon? Heavy, DC, and Saph, too, I guess. Once I’m done at the hospital maybe we can find something fairly harmless to pull on somepony, too.”

Most days in the guard were, to nopony’s surprise, pretty boring. Sure, there’s the occasional dispute between neighbors or maybe a fight between mares over a stallion, but sometimes entire weeks would go by before even a report of petty theft would make its way to Corporal Ricochet’s desk.

Because of this, the call from the lobby for assistance comes as a bit of a surprise to the young mare shortly after she returned from her lunch break. Her first thoughts are almost of relief as she rises from her desk and makes her way towards the front, but she no more than steps through the lobby entrance and takes in the scene before that tiny hint of excitement is smothered by a thick blanket of confusion and incredulity.

Ricochet has to blink a couple times to be sure she’s really seeing what she’s seeing. Standing in the lobby, forelegs… arms folded across its… chest? Is an angrily grumbling bipedal stalk of… broccoli?

The animated vegetable, and isn’t that an oxymoron, she ponders, barely comes up to her chest, and that’s only if she counts the bushy green crown atop its head. A regal red cloak with a high collar is, somehow, staying in place around the creature’s neck area, just slightly above its long, slender arms, despite there not being actual shoulders for it to rest on.

The stalk continues down and stops abruptly where she assumes its crotch should be, which is completely bare. Two stubby, thin legs jut out from the bottom, their color and flesh texture apparently identical to the rest of him, before they end in weird, flat feet with four toes with odd, dull, leafy claws on them.

“... see how long I make you wait when you visit my kingdom,” the apparent-king complains. His weird, solid green eyes land on the mare and take note of the two chevrons on her pauldrons. “A corporal?!” he snarls, stamping a leafy green foot in annoyance. “I demand an audience with the highest authority in the land and you send a mere corporal to meet with me?! The AUDACITY!” he screeches, throwing his stubby arms in the air in a fit of pique.

Ricochet silently bites the inside of her cheek almost hard enough to draw blood just to be sure she isn’t passed out at her desk having the oddest dream she thinks she’s ever had. She begrudgingly approaches the creature, aware of the similarly bewildered eyes of everypony in the lobby flicking between the two of them. “Umm… you wanted to file a complaint, sir?” she slowly, hesitantly asks.

“A complaint?! I'll do more than simply file a complaint!” The stalk of broccoli approaches the mare and does its best to look intimidating, which it completely fails at. “I demand that you ponies stop eating my kin! Innocent broccoloid children are devoured by the hundreds by you savage beasts every day and we’re finally fed up with it!”

“Brocc… oloids?”

“Of course! Or do you deny eating our sprouts at nearly every meal?!”

“What?!”

“It’s a simple question, you foolish mare! Have you ever eaten a broccoloid before?!”

Ricochet’s mind flashes back to her lunch, a cheesy, mushroomy broccoli casserole. Her ears pin back reflexively as she hesitantly answers, “Umm… maybe? I don't think -”

“I can smell the chlorophyll of our young on your BREATH! Murderer! Clearly I am wasting my time here!” The brocco…loid takes a deep breath, recentering itself. It makes a nod-like movement, an impossibility due to its complete lack of a distinct neck or head. “Very well. I see there can be no peace between our kind. Deliver this to your leader,” he insists, pulling a rolled up scroll of lettuce from his cloak and shoving it against the mare’s chest, “and when next we meet, it will be you who is slathered in cheese and butter before being devoured!”

The royal stalk of broccoli turns on its heel, its cloak swinging around to ineffectually slap the mare’s chest, and promptly exits the building, leaving Ricochet, the front lobby mare, and half a dozen onlookers all stunned at the proclamation. She looks more closely at the scroll cradled in the crook of her fetlock and finds that it’s not sealed with wax. Her horn ignites, levitating it in front of her as she unrolls it, paying no mind to the others all crowding around to see.

“Rake, trowel, shovel, soil, fertilizer?” she reads aloud as her eyes move down the scroll. “What in Tartarus is this? A shopping list?!”

Several blocks away above a candy shop, a herd of foals watches as the Illusion cuts off, all of them rolling on the floor laughing their heads off.

Author's Note

A - relative to normal - shorter chapter this week. I blame a really bad case of writer's block.

There's a lot of potential for this ability, of course, but then when you start figuring out how you could use it in a real-life situation it tends to bog you down. We've already seen how poorly ponies react to duplicates of themselves, so obviously impersonating... imponyating? Mimicking another pony is right out for a number of reasons.

Also, when you really think about it, copying someone else's body is truly freaking bizarre. I don't think I've ever watched Freaky Friday or anything with a similar theme (body swapping in this instance), but can you imagine how weird it would be to use the bathroom?

Even something as relatively harmless as his prank at the end can draw a lot of attention. Newspaper articles, a report to the princess, guard rotations being increased due to the threat of an attack, broccoli farmers wondering if they're raising future enemy combatants... the list goes on. Fortunately, with so few witnesses, no real evidence, and no sign of an impending Broccoloid assault, the whole thing would probably be dismissed within a few days.

Thankfully, ponies always seem to react in a calm, rational manner to the unexpected.

Right?

As always, thanks for reading, rating, and especially commenting. Enjoy!

Chapter 101: Find the Ball

Saturday, August 29th, 909 AB (3 days later)
3:00 In the morning

With his overnight body maintenance complete, Cure takes a moment to look over the pile of bodies on his bed. Beds. Having witnessed him remotely piloting numerous animals, vegetables, and creatures over the past few days, it’s no big surprise that the fillies made a rather unusual request on the night of his pre-departure sleepover.

Being the magnanimous colt that he is, Cure obliged them even if he felt it was somewhat extreme given he’ll only be gone a couple weeks. Claiming dibs by right of familial attachment, Cherry and Lotus demanded and received the cherished places of honor under the real Cure’s wings as he slept, meanwhile each of the fillies insisted upon their very own Cure snuggle clone to sprawl out on top of or to spoon throughout the night.

Frankly, the whole thing was a pain in the butt to arrange.

First, his bed, while adequate for quite a few foals at once, was not up to the task of comfortably accommodating Heavy, Sapphire, Coast, Cherry, Lotus, Rising, Ferric, Dawn, Glacial, Drift, and himself, plus an additional six clones.

Granted, the last one was unnecessary, but he just couldn’t help himself when Heavy teased him about not having a Cure to snuggle with, also. Protests aside, the gray colt, his fillyfriend, and Sapphire seem content piled on top of each other while wrapped in the last puppet’s silky wings.

Getting them all in position was a nuisance, even if it wasn’t overly difficult. Tedious more than anything. Despite practicing almost nonstop for the last two days, Cure still is not capable of dividing his attention sufficiently to do anything complex with a puppet while he, himself, is otherwise engaged. Due to his lacking proficiency, Cure could only create and move the clones one at a time. Next came custom colors, scents, and optional appendages per each filly’s preferences.

Every once in a while, Cure gets the niggling feeling in the back of his mind that, perhaps, he’s overindulging them a tiny bit.

It only takes him a few minutes to silently slip through the house and take to the sky, invisibly cutting through the air on oversized wings, rolling, flipping, and turning at speeds that would make even a pegasus dizzy. As he closes on the city proper, he levels his flight and aims himself for Base Carol, dispelling his invisibility but not slowing in the least.

Soaring at the base like a missile, the colt angles his wings up, jolting himself into a steep climb. His wings extend slightly, each curved in a semicircle, and the trailing edge of his feathers and tail alight in a golden bioluminescent glow, spiraling high into the sky. At the apex of his ascent he briefly cuts off the lights, flips to face down, and ignites his horn, falling towards the ground wrapped in a golden corona.

Paying no mind to the speed, Cure angles himself to hit not even a score of meters from the gate, taking no action to arrest his quickening descent. He ignores the few shouted calls from below, straightening his barrel out as he plummets horn-first towards the ground. His wings partially flare out only a split second before impact, pulling his head and chest even with his hindquarters.

The colt slams into the ground at speeds that would pancake a normal foal, annihilating the stone street pavers and blasting dust in all directions. A squad of guards hesitantly approach the cloud, terrified of what they’ll find when it settles. From within the cloud, a golden flash fires off, pulling all of the sediment back to the ground to reveal the completely unharmed and dust-free colt.

Cure trots forward a few steps, pauses, glances back at the destroyed road, ignites his horn again, and repairs the patch of street. He nods in satisfaction before resuming his course, bobbing his head in greeting to the stunned guardsponies looking between the unharmed foal and the former crater he’d just patched up.

“G’mornin, everypony. Is my carriage ready?” He could easily spot it during his dive. The base, as well as nearly all of the streets in downtown Baltimare, are plenty well lit even during the night.

Several heads nod simultaneously and a few forelegs and wings point off to the side.

“Awesome! Thanks!” he calls, trotting through the squad of bewildered ponies and beelining towards the Carriage House. A six pony team of gold-armored guards is standing at attention waiting for him along with four pegasi in standard guard armor to their side. They all snap textbook-perfect salutes as he approaches. He’d briefly met the paladins the previous weekend when he’d upgraded their scouts’ sense of smell to follow the marker he’d placed on the vampony, so their faces are familiar even if he doesn’t know all of their names.

“Good morning Sgt. Brightstar,” he calls, casually wing-saluting the unicorn mare a half-body length away from the carriage door. Her already-rigid frame straightens even more and the crimson plume of her galea tilts back as she inclines her head at the greeting. “We all set to head out?”

“Your highness! Ready when you are, sir!” she responds, dropping her salute before igniting her horn to lower the step and open the door.

“Excellent. Let’s be off, then.” The young alicorn climbs into the cab and hops up on the forward-facing seat, making himself comfortable. The four local pegasi hook into the harnesses, the pegasi paladins alight themselves to the roof, and an earth pony and unicorn combination hop onto the front and rear benches, strapping themselves into safety harnesses for takeoff. The two unicorns do one last check and call out, verifying their own and their earth pony compatriots’ Cloud Walking spells are active.

The carriage is taxied away from the carriage house and onto a stretch of flat road through the center of the base. He can barely overhear the pegasi sounding off, responding to their leader’s question to indicate they are ready to go. A fuzzy, static itches at his horn as the pegasi begin moving. The carriage accelerates from a stop to a full gallop in less than five seconds, the motion nearly imperceptible due to the inertial dampening enchantments within the compartment.

Cure idly thinks back to the first time in his life he’d been in such a vehicle. Only about ten months prior he’d been terrified, wanting no more than to huddle on the floor of the cab while on his way to visit the pegasi and deliver their presents. Having flown under his own power, experienced the excitement that is the air passing through his feathers, he doesn’t even feel the need to look outside. Flying through the air in a pegasus-pulled chariot is, now, every bit as exciting as sitting on a train. Mundane. Boring.

The need to go through the rigmarole of flying to Carol just to fly to the clouds is chafing. Infuriating, even. Celestia’s request be damned, he’s half tempted to unleash a biblical swarm upon any would-be predators just for the offense of making him waste thirty minutes of his time each week. He could be at home, snuggling with his friends for a part of that, which means those few lost minutes are infinitely more valuable than the wretched, disgusting existences of some undead abomination.

A soft golden glow arrests his attention, causing him to pause and look around. The glow dissipates almost instantly, but not quick enough that he didn’t find the source. He runs a hoof through his mane, using his TK field to push it back into position. Another annoyance.

Not nearly as grating as knowing there could be literal undead monsters lurking in the woods, but still more inconvenient than he would like. At least his mane colors altered themselves with the Prismatic Metamagic Cantrip’s effects, otherwise his cover may not survive his first public ignition.

Cure doesn’t have to wait long before he feels the carriage descending, the trip too short to have more than a moment of level flying. He patiently (mostly) waits as the carriage rolls to a stop. The sound of hooves on wood indicate the unicorns and earth ponies have dismounted, and a few seconds later the door opens, the sound of the step descending muted thanks to the cloud surface.

The sergeant and two paladins stand at attention as he disembarks, the others gone ahead to ensure the building is secure. Cure struggles, but succeeds, at suppressing a sigh when he takes in the combined stares of everypony gathered near the facility’s entrance.

He makes his way closer, infusing his voice to be heard, and calls out, “Good morning everypony. There’s nothing to worry about. I’ll explain all this,” his tilts his head back towards the carriage, “to everypony once we’re inside so I don’t have to repeat myself.”

That seems to appease most of the crowd. Looks of concern or worry diminish as he waits for the sergeant to give the all-clear. Only a moment passes before she quietly whispers, “Ready, sir,” prompting him to start making his way inside.

The other three paladins are in the main gym waiting for them, thankfully off to the side out of the way. Even with the relatively low lighting of the gymnasium they stand out like bonfires on a dark night. Parents and foals that were already in the room eye the three warily, quietly murmuring amongst themselves when Prince Serpentus and three additional guards make their way in.

Cure approaches the instructors as the guards position themselves near the door, staring intently, if briefly, at everypony that enters.

Once the bodies stop trickling in, Cure clears his throat to get everypony’s attention. He steps forward to stand in front of the instructors and calls out, “Apologies for any inconvenience the extra bodies present, everypony.

“While I’m certain that the level of protection I’ve been afforded at these sessions is more than adequate, somepony astutely pointed out that, as a member of royalty, me not having an ‘official’ escort in public could be seen as a failure of duty on the part of the Royal Guard.

“Paladin Brightstar was kind enough to volunteer her squad for the job despite, for them, the early hour. I would ask that you please show them the same courtesy you have shown me. The good sergeant has assured me that this will, in no way, cause any interference in our training.

“I want to assure everypony that their presence is not in response to any kind of threat made against myself or anypony else present. There is no reason to be concerned about your own or your foals’ safety.” He smirks and pans his gaze across the gathering of bat ponies and sardonically asks, “After all, what kind of idiot would choose this, of all places, with all of you here, to try something stupid?” A few laughs and voiced agreements can be heard from the parents. “Frankly, I can’t think of a safer place in all of Equestria than right here with you all. So, with no further ado,” he turns to look at Lt. Silver and Sgt. Song, “what are we working on tonight, senseis?”

The stallion smirks and steps forward, raising his voice for everypony to hear. “I’m glad you asked, your highness. I think this is something you may find particularly interesting. Sgt. Song mentioned that she suggested you practice something a couple months ago when you first started attending, and it’s something that every bat, guard or not, should be proficient at.”

Cure has a nagging feeling that he is about to have a rough morning.

Lt. Silver reaches under his wing and pulls out a long strap of thick, black fabric. “Tonight we’ll be practicing fighting in the dark. So, your highness,” he says, smirking at the now frowning colt, “exactly how good is your echolocation?”

“Ahh... fudge.”

The wide, very fang-filled smiles of excitement are somehow less than encouraging.

Despite having some reservations about voluntarily blinding himself in a room full of fillies, Cure has to admit that the practice fighting in, though simulated, darkness was a novel experience. A few examples where Ed had seen echolocation depicted in media came to mind, and, despite being amongst the most god-awful movies he’d forced himself to sit through, the DareDevil movie from the early 2000s wasn’t that terribly far off.

Of course, as with anything, Cure cheated like a dirty rotten cheater. Not only was he able to add additional directional auditory sensors as needed, he could sense everypony around him just fine via their heat signature, scent, and, perhaps most crucially, with the aura from his horn.

As with any good cheater, he didn’t just abuse his abilities for offensive purposes. With a little experimentation, he was able to alter his coat and flight suit to minimize his sonic cross section. It didn’t make a huge difference since his horn, eyes, hooves, and anywhere with shorter, finer hairs like his muzzle still stood out easily, but it was still an interesting learning experience he’ll keep in mind on the off chance he ever needs to evade a sound-detecting enemy.

As has become tradition, Cure stopped at the Dough bakery on the way home, though this time with a new addition. Having the two versions of himself walk in at the same time threw the mares for a loop, especially when the unicorn opened the door and mockingly bowed, intoning, “After you, your high-flying-ness,” for the pegasus to enter.

Upon arriving at home, pegasus Riddle - and Cure notes he needs a new name for the identity - pushes the front door open and steps out of the way, allowing the unicorn to slip through, a half dozen boxes of confections floating in his chocolatey aura behind him.

While the unicorn carries the breakfast to the table to get the coffee maker started, the pegsus shifts his colors back to normal and trots into the nursery, glomping on Vines’ right side to plant a big, wet kiss right on her cheek. “‘Mornin, dam. Love you more ‘n all the doughnuts in the world.”

She wraps a foreleg around his withers, squishing his side against her chest and nuzzling down into his mane. “Love you too, sweetheart. How did it go?”

The colt doesn’t ignore the others, making his way from mom to mom and greeting the foals as he answers, “About as well as I expected. I talked to the sergeant afterwards and suggested they see about having a few bats in the squad instead of all day pegasi, but she says she doesn’t have any under her command.”

Title gives him a quick hug before following in the unicorn’s hoofsteps, Savvy hot on her tail.

“Seems like a massive oversight not having at least one in every squad, but hay, maybe they just don’t get a lot of applicants from the bat population.” He pauses to look around in confusion, mostly for show, and asks, “Is Amy still asleep? She’s normally up… by… oh,” he trails off as realization dawns.

The combined reactions from the two tell him exactly where Amethyst is at the moment and his imagination, without asking permission, provides him with a decent guess as to what she’s doing. Both mares blush, his dam more than Lemon who, despite the red hue of her ears and cheeks, is quietly giggling while avoiding looking him in the eyes.

“Well, whatever. There’s certainly worse ways for a dude to wake up, and I suppose she needs something to tide her over for a couple weeks. I’ll… uhh… teleport some food and drinks up to the bathroom counter for them. I’d make a comment about ‘wetting yer whistle,’ but…”

“Don’t be crass,” Vines softly chides, despite Lemon’s quiet snickering.

“Sorry, dam. Hay, I’m just glad they remembered to turn on the privacy screen. Dawn is just down the hall, after all.” A grimace crosses the mare’s features at the reminder.

The lull in the conversation stretches for a moment while the three watch Blazer and Golden playing. Cure can’t help but smile at how adorable the pair are. His little brother in blue is working on an upgraded busy board Cure had originally made for Savvy.

Fashioned mostly out of wood, the control panel-like contraption has dozens of switches, buttons, sliders, and spinning parts in a variety of bright colors. Different combinations being moved one way or another will activate softly glowing lights around the outside of the unit in various colors or patterns. Much like his Life Support Collars, he created a docking station for it and other energy-consuming toys, both as a means of recharging them and to teach the foals to put things away when they’re done with them.

The little unit has captivated Golden, too. Laying opposite her twin, she is content to mostly observe and, occasionally, reach over to move a control one way or another. Cure is pretty sure she’s messing with her brother more than anything; the young colt is apparently trying to accomplish something and every time his focus is on one section his sister quickly messes with something in an area he isn’t paying attention to. The sabotaged control is eventually noticed and, with an adorable little annoyed grunt, Blazer will correct the miscalibration before resuming his work.

“Looks like we have a future villainess on our hooves,” he comments.

“She’s something,” Lemon agrees. “The best part is when she starts giggling and he looks up at her in confusion. The poor colt doesn’t even realize what’s going on.”

“That’s every stallion’s lot in life, little brother. Ya think yer doing your own thing, not even realizing somemare’s controlling you while yer none the wiser. Might as well get used to it now, dude,” he commiserates, earning a nip on his ear.

“Somemare has to keep you all in line. By the way,” she tilts her head towards the kitchen, “I thought you weren’t going to let the foals see two of you at once.”

Cure responds with a half shrug, pointing out, “His scent’s different enough I doubt they’ll make the connection. He’ll disappear up the stairs in a moment anyhow. Speaking of the upstairs,” he angles his ears in that direction, “sounds like the squad’s awake. I should probably go check on them.”

“Go on, then,” Vines says, nudging his side with her snout. “I’ll get the table set,” she raises her voice and faces towards the kitchen before finishing, “since I’m willing to bet somepony is stuffing their face instead of helping!”

A muffled retort comes back from his mom, completely unintelligible thanks to her mouth being jammed full of food.

“I think she said she’s busy,” Cure chuckles. “I got most of the stuff out already, dam. Go grab yerself something if you want, but you don’t need to do anything.” He starts heading for the stairs, calling over his withers, “I’ll be back with the gang in a minute.”

Both Cures ascend the stairs, but stop in the hallway instead of going into his room, pausing for a moment at the top. A stalk descends from the ceiling and jams into the pegasus, quickly slurping the puppet up into the greater mass while the unicorn unfurls, stretches, and grows out his wings while changing his scent, facial features, and colors.

He makes his way into the room, halting mid-step when he catches sight of Dawn on the far side of the bed, laying atop the puppet with her forelegs wrapped in an unyielding embrace around its neck and staring at him in wide-eyed horror. The filly has singlehoofedly filled the room with the scent of fear and worry. “Uhh… you okay?” he lamely asks.

“She just froze all of a sudden,” Rising answers, nudging at her friend in concern.

“Bad dream or something?” he asks, slowly approaching the bed. He notes how she seems to be keeping the puppet’s head interposed between the two of them as he moves. Rising is beside her, half laying on another puppet, with Ferric and the pegasi to her left. Two more Cures are snuggled together to Glacial’s side, seemingly placed there with more care than is necessary.

Sapphire is at the center of the half-circle at the head of the combined beds, laying atop another clone. He’s not sure where she got a brush, but she seems to be enjoying herself running it through his mane, even if it is a little on the short side for that. Another Cure is to her right in the corner of the second bed, laying on its side facing away from the group and his sisters cuddled between its legs. Coast and Heavy are behind the clone with their sides pressed together, looking back over their withers at the colt.

Shaking her head no, Glacial answers, “We’ve been awake for a minute.”

Drift turns towards Cure and explains, “She was talking about some Bland filly -”

“Blend,” Coast corrects. “She goes to the east-central schoolhouse. White unicorn with a dark green mane and a paintbrush cutie mark.”

“Oh. I’ve seen her around,” he says with a nod. “Never spoken to her, though.”

“- right, whatever,” Drift continues, “anyhow, she was talking about how they’re -”

“What the hay was that?!” Dawn blurts out overtop of the pegasus. Drift scowls silently for a second before muttering “I was talking” under her breath.

Cure looks at the others for clarification, finding nothing but confusion on their faces. “What was what?”

She waves at the door behind him and stutters out, “You just… your plant… which you is you?!”

“Oh! I’m me,” he answers, patting his chest with his right hoof. “The pegasus was the puppet.”

“But… I saw you come in through my horn!”

He hops up on the bed and half lays across Heavy’s withers. “Yeah? So? It’s a little easier using my horn myself. Why? What’s the problem?”

The filly blows out a weary sigh, the tension draining from her body as she realizes she’s misidentified the real Cure from the start. “Nothing. When I sensed your puppet talking to your dam I just figured that was really you.”

“Ah. Freaked you out a bit when I switched at the top of the steps?”

“Just a bit,” she sarcastically quips.

“Sorry. I’m trying not to have multiple ‘mes’ running around the foals at once, so I had to get that one out of sight before disappearing him. The twins are at the age where they’ll start being able to identify individuals, so I don’t want to throw off their development or confuse them. They didn’t need to think they have seven older brothers,” he points out, looking over the collection of dormant Cure puppets. “It’ll be confusing enough with just my disguises, so no need to add to that.”

She narrows her eyes, sternly insisting, “You could have made it less gruesome. You know how it looks.”

“What’d you do?” Heavy inquiries, looking up to him in curiosity.

“Nothing, really. I just had my plant reach down and yoink up my puppet. It wasn’t gorey or anything.”

Dawn scoffs, shaking her head. “It looked like a big mosquito mouth thing -”

“Proboscis,” Cure helpfully supplies.

She makes a disgusted face at the name and continues, “- shot down out of the ceiling and sucked him up like a milkshake.”

“I want to see,” Drift chimes in, a hint of excitement creeping into her voice.

Sapphire tilts her head in thought, rubbing at her chin as she analyzes the clone between herself and Coast. “I’m not sure if alicorn flavor would sell very well. OOH! The princess’s apples! You can be blueberry and her majesty can be vanilla! Not the most exciting flavor, granted, but still yummier than ‘alicorn’ if ya ask me.”

“I dunno, Saph,” Cure disagrees, “I’m betting there’s some griffon or dragon connoisseurs that would pay a king’s ransom for genuine alicorn meat… hmm,” he hums, trailing off in thought.

“No.” The single word from Ferric brings him out of his pondering to find a mix of amused, disappointed, and mildly disgusted expressions aimed in his direction. “You’re not selling alicorn meat to anypony.” He pouts heartily to very little effect.

“Yeah, dude. You said you wouldn’t want anypony finding out they like what ponies taste like.”

“Yeah, yeah,” he agrees, fanning a hoof in placation. “I was only teasing anyhow.” He climbs off Heavy’s withers and motions towards the door with his head. “I stopped at the bakery, so let’s go eat before my mom devours everything. Are you okay now?” he asks, cocking a brow at the orange filly.

She rolls her eyes and releases the clone, getting up to follow Coast, Heavy, and Sapphire out of the room. “I’m fine. It just surprised me how fast you did it. Normally you pretty it up some, but…”

“Yeah. Go ahead,” he insists, waving at the door, “I gotta take care of the rest of these.” He eyes his sisters’ clone speculatively, “minus one, at least.”

The filly passes by, brushing her right side against his as she climbs down off the bed. The others do the same except for Drift who lingers behind. He raises a brow in question to the purple pegasus who gives a challenging look in return. “I’m not some wuss. I want to see what the big deal is.”

Cure scoffs and shakes his head. “No way. You looked like you were gonna be sick at the stupid little ‘eye scream’ trick I did.”

“I was eating!”

“Which we’re about to go do.”

She folds her forelegs across her chest defiantly. “I’m not going until you show me.”

A number of options cross the colt’s mind. With the clones being completely separate entities, there’s no reason why he has to be careful at all. Any spattered gore is still biological matter that he could absorb into his plant easily. That feels like a genuinely horrible idea, though. Still, the temptation to do something truly outrageous still exists, especially since he’s never been able to really cut loose before.

Alternatively, he could scare the everloving shit out of the filly by having the clones get snatched up and dissolved silently every time she looks away from one. Maybe even have a tentacle wrap around a hind hoof “by mistake” and hoist her up into the attic. That idea is quashed as soon as it surfaces for any number of reasons, first and foremost being that it goes well over a line clearly demarcating actions that are acceptable and not. To do to friends, at least.

The third option is to fuck with her another, far more acceptable way. Handle the clones in the same way he normally does by having their exteriors meld into a leafy shield to block her view of the more unsettling parts. He’s pretty sure she won’t be satisfied with that, though, given her refusal to simply leave.

Similarly, he could just leave them until they’re downstairs eating and take care of the whole situation through his plant remotely. It would strip her of the bragging rights he suspects she’s after, but would probably leave her similarly annoyed and, likely, bothering him on future occasions.

“I’ll let you watch one,” he finally decides, “and I’ll do the exact same thing that Dawn saw. I’ll remove the rest when we go down to eat. Okay?”

She only ponders a moment before nodding.

“Which one?” he asks.

Smirking, she looks over to the one Dawn was laying on. “Do that one,” she insists, pointing with her right wing.

“So petty,” he sighs.

He double checks to ensure his sisters are sound asleep before starting. Just as he had in the hallway, a hair’s width vine pokes through the ceiling. It quickly spreads, blooming like a mushroom to cover an area slightly larger than a hoof in diameter. The plaster is sliced cleanly and yanked up into the attic, any dust being caught by the mushroom cap’s underside.

A thick tendril spears down, jamming itself into the puppet’s back. The clone changes, becoming a mass of liquidy green gel inside of a translucent bubble. Within twenty seconds the entirety is slurped back up into the plant and set aside for future use.

Drift stares on the for the entire show, her mouth hanging slightly open and eyes widening in wonder as she takes it in. From her perspective very little happened. A vine came down and jammed into the puppet, which then turned green and got vacuumed up into the ceiling. She couldn’t see the bits of enamel and other slower-digesting chunks flowing up. There is no mess, no gore, and no upsetting slurping noises present. In fact, the whole process was almost entirely silent aside from the barely-perceptible sound of motion.

“Huh. That wasn’t as bad as I expected.”

“Good. That’s completely intentional.”

“So what was the big deal?”

“Imagine if you weren’t expecting it and thought that was the real me.”

Her eyes widen comically and her muzzle falls open. A cringe crosses her features and she shudders from snout to tail. “Okay. Yeah. I can see that.”

“Empathy, Drift. Look it up sometime,” he sighs out, turning to climb off the bed. “Now c’mon, the others probably think you’re trying to make out with me or something.”

“Blech! You wish,” she retorts, following him out the door.

The filly heads to the upstairs restroom to wash up while he makes his way to the downstairs bathroom to do the same. Both of them arrive at the dining room table at about the same time to more than a few curious looks. He hops up on one end next to Ferric and to Rising’s right while she joins Glacial on the opposite end between her and Dawn.

He lights up his horn, grabbing himself a few doughnuts and a blueberry muffin, quietly listening as Dawn finishes talking about the filly she’d bumped into.

“... said her sire’s renting her a stall at the festival. She’ll have a little corner of her own to see if she can sell some of her pieces. Dam said she can chaperone if anypony wants to go.”

“You should rent a stall too, sissy!” Sapphire insists. “You could make some fancy metal statues or fountains or just sell some of your tools you make!”

“I don’t think I have time to make anything now. It’s next weekend.”

“The stalls are probably long gone, too,” Coast points out. “Those book up weeks or even months in advance.”

“He,” Dawn tilts her head towards Cure, “went up to Filly a month in advance, and that’s a weekly market.”

Sapphire sniffs in disdain and haughtily turns away from the group. “If you’re just going to use logic to defeat my suggestions then perhaps I shant offer any further.”

Coast shakes her head and sighs, turning back to Dawn to say, “I’ll go with you. My dam might want to go too if that’s okay.”

The unicorn cocks a brow at the pegasi, both of whom shake their heads no.

“I’m going with my dam too,” Rising volunteers. She looks to her right and gives Cure a pout. “It stinks you’ll be out of town.”

“Yeah, I’m real heartbroken I won’t be around for an art festival,” he deadpans. “Gonna be a shame to miss out on all that tra… err… art.”

“So uncultured,” Dawn mocks.

Cure shrugs and bobs his head in acceptance. “I’m fine with that.”

Heavy’s hoof shoots into the air as he shouts, “Same here.”

Cure leans against Ferric and offers his left hoof to the gray colt. “Uncultured swine unite! You better pound that, dude!”

Being a bro and all, Heavy doesn’t leave him hanging. “Heck yeah!” he cheers, meeting his bro in a high hoof.

Six out of the seven fillies close their eyes and blow out disappointed sighs while Sapphire giggles and claps in delight.

Coast opens her eyes and turns to face Heavy. “You can come with us. It won’t kill you.”

Heavy’s face contorts in an ugly rictus. His shoulders slump and ears fall limp as he hangs his head. “I guess.”

“Hey, chin up, bro. Maybe if you’re really good she’ll let you buy her something nice, too.”

“Shut up. At least I won’t have to work the next two weeks non-stop.”

“Yeah, I feel ya. I’m super sad I have to spend all that time at the Royal Castle, too. Bums me out something fierce.”

Ferric interrupts the pair before they’re bickering gets started. “I need to go soon or I’ll be late for work.”

Cure wraps his wing around her and squeezes her in a hug, nuzzling up at the underside of her chin. “Want a teleport? I can send you to the range easily enough. That’ll save you a few minutes.” The filly’s reluctance shows with a cringe. “Or I could fly you if you prefer.”

“No, you don’t have to -”

Heavy hooffalls descending the stairs cause her to pause as she looks in that direction. Her jaw falls open as a gorgeous blue and green adult alicorn even taller than her sire strolls into the dining room and lays on his barrel beside her. The other foals stare in stunned silence as they drink in his form, committing every millimeter of his thick, powerful build to memory. Even laid down, the large creature is easily as tall as the dark filly.

The alicorn turns his long neck and rests his larger cheek against her own, trapping her head between himself and the real Cure. In a smooth, deep voice that sends vibrations all the way down to her hooves, he says, “I would be delighted to ensure your safe and expedient arrival, my dear. Simply climb on my back and I promise you’ll be there with time to spare.”

Quiet, awe-filled exclamations of shock escape the fillies and, somehow, despite every inequinely sharp sense Cure has, Sapphire evades detection, slipping from the opposite end of the table to hop on the puppet’s back. The aqua filly’s excited cheer pulls her sister out of her daze. “C’mon sissy! Let’s ride! All aboard the CuretiePie Express! Woo wooooo!”

Cure leans away, cocking a brow in confusion. “I thought you were afraid of heights. Your dam said you didn’t want to go to the show…”

The filly scoffs, rolling her eyes. “Only when I don’t have something solid under me.” She reaches down and pokes at his puppet’s impressive pectorals. “Seems plenty solid to me.”

The other fillies absently nod in agreement.

Ferric sighs at her sister’s antics. She gingerly sidles off the bench and onto his back, wrapping her forehooves around her sister to grab onto his thick, muscular neck. Rising to his hooves with unnatural smoothness, he saunters behind the colt, slapping him with his tail as he passes by.

“Good job, moron,” Cure grumbles, “now you have doughnut glaze in yer tail.”

The fillies’ eyes all stay locked on him as he moves behind them, his right hip and wing lightly brushing against Rising and Dawn’s backs. He ignites his horn to pull open the back door and announces, “We’re going invisible. You ready, Saph?”

With an exaggerated southern draw she shouts back, “Yer durn tootin ah am! Giddyup, blue boy! Times’a wastin!”

“Alright, alright, enough,” he grumbles, pushing power into his horn. “Here we go,” he warns, disappearing in a flash. A few more hoofsteps can be heard as he passes through the door, pulling it shut behind himself with his tail.

“Duuuuude,” Heavy drawls. “You freaking suck, bro.”

“Oh please,” he rolls his eyes, “like you wouldn’t do the same thing.” The colt sighs but bobs his head in acknowledgement. “Oh quit yer pouting,” Cure chides, “it’s not like I’m ever going to leave my bro hangin anyhow.”

“Better not,” he quietly grumbles, though his ears perk back up at the reassurance.

Finally shaking herself out of her stupor, Rising points a hoof at the door. “First off, yum,” she emotionally declares to the agreement of the others. “Second, I thought you couldn’t fly with a puppet.”

“If I’m doing anything complex,” he explains. “I can’t concentrate on two things at once. Sitting here and eating, even talking, isn’t so difficult that I can’t fly the puppet at the same time. After all, flying straight for half a kilometer?” He pitches a hoof at the pegasi and asks, “How much concentration does that really take?”

Both shrug and Glacial answers, “Barely any once you’re off the ground.”

“Is it getting easier?” Dawn asks. “Between last night and today you seemed to be doing better than you were a few days ago.”

“No,” he grumps, his face pinched in annoyance. “The ‘writing something different with each hoof’ analogy is pretty accurate. If I’m concentrating on one I can’t do anything too complex with the other. Walking and talking isn’t too bad, even if I’m using magic with one, but I’m far from being able to fluidly manage two completely different complex actions at once. I’ve even spent most of the last few nights with two puppets in my room practicing, which probably would look pretty ridiculous if anypony could see it.”

“Practicing?” Coast echoes. “What exactly are you doing?”

Cure halfheartedly shrugs. “Just about everything. Dancing with one while hovering in the air with another, singing two different songs at once, or even the same song but different parts. Honestly, that was even harder. I even built a little ping pong table and was practicing playing against myself. Switching my focus back and forth so quickly was… disorienting. To say the least.”

“Ping pong?” she repeats in question.

“Yeah, you know…” he mimes swinging a paddle, “ping pong.” They all look at him with utter bewilderment. “Table tennis?” Several heads shake no and it finally dawns on him that the sport may not exist yet.

Whoops. Again.

“You all know what tennis is, right?” They nod. “It’s basically that, but played on a table with little hoofheld paddles and a little ball instead. Finding the right wood and rubbers for all that was a pain, by the way.”

A brief silence hangs in the air as everypony stares at him incredulously. Rising finally voices everypony’s thoughts, asking, “And… you have one in your office?”

“Yeah? I mean, it’s not regulation size, what with the room being so small, but…” he drifts off at everypony’s continued stare. “What?”

“Regulation size?” Glacial questions.

“Umm… bigger. For adults.” he rushes to clarify. “Anyhow, it’s sized right for foals if y’all want to play a few games. I have a couple hours before I need to meet with my double, so how ‘bout we check it out?”

Shortly After Lunch

A sharp double-rap on the front door draws the colt’s attention from his pre-departure snuggle session with his family. Even disconnected from his plant, his aura penetrates the door enough to identify the four ponies standing on the other side. Cure squirms free before his sire has a chance to rise. “I got it pa. Apparently somepony thinks they’re clever.”

He pulls open the door and waves them all in. “Afternoon, folks. Get yer posteriors in here before everypony starts wondering if I’m havin some kinda officer’s ball or something.”

Sergeants Bulwark, Haze, Song, and Lt. Quill exchange greetings with the colt as they make their way inside, then turn to greet Deed, Title, Vines, Amethyst, and the girls as they line up in the foyer by the nursery. He notes the way each of them keeps glancing in his direction, raising a brow to Quill when he catches his eye.

“Sorry, sir,” the stallion apologizes, “I’m not used to seeing you out of disguise. Especially without the flight suit.”

“Really?” Cure asks with a snort. “You’ve seen me undisguised more than any of the rest of them by a wide margin. Nice try with the illusion, but… yeah, you’re not fooling anyone, Mr. Haze.”

Lt. Quill is replaced by a second Sgt. Haze in a flash. The red stallion turns to Bulwark and gives him a look that all but screams “I told you so.” “Illusions never were my strong suit,” he despondently admits. The fake Haze disappears in a flash also, replaced by a slim, white unicorn mare with a two-toned mane. The half pink, half brown style is odd and not what Cure would expect from somepony that normally doesn’t want to stand out in a crowd.

Song laughs and holds her hoof to Bulwark in a beckoning motion. “Pay up, sarge. Told you he’d see right through it.”

“Nice try, sarge,” he remarks, meeting Song’s eyes, “but it’s not working on me.” He looks between the gray earth pony and the unicorn mare, focusing on the former, and says, “Go ahead and dispel it.” He tilts his head, motioning to the mare, saying, “I don’t know how you convinced the sarge to let him put your Illusions on him, but you didn’t get his scent quite right. He also doesn’t drink whatever the hay kinda fancy-schmancy tea you had for breakfast.”

The mare disappears in a flash, replaced by the real Sgt. Bulwark, the stallion shuddering as the magic dissipates from his coat. “That felt weird,” he quietly grumbles.

“I would imagine being coated in somepony else’s magic would. Especially layered as it was.” He gives an approving nod to the real illusionist after she dispels her Bulwark disguise. “I wasn’t even aware you could do that.”

“Special talent, your highness,” she answers with a shrug.

“Neat.” He cocks a brow at the only pony that is who she originally presented as. “You didn’t get invited to play, sarge?”

Song shakes her head no. “I declined when asked. Told ‘em it wouldn’t work anyhow.” She gets a playful smirk and strikes a prancing pony pose, her chest puffed out and wings spread up wide, adding, “Besides, it would be a crime to hide all this under an illusion.”

“True dat,” he solemnly agrees. His attention falls on the unicorn mare for a moment, the intensity of his look pinning her in place. He steps closer and tilts his head slightly in confusion. “Is… something wrong with your eyes?”

Her brows shoot up nearly into her mane. “You can see that?!” Belatedly, she adds a quick, “sir!”

He rears up, holding himself on his hind legs with his wings and stares directly into her eyes, leaning in close enough that she takes a half step back. “Your irises… they’re perfectly symmetrical and an exact mirror of each other.” He backs off and falls to all fours. “There’s always an imperfection, normally.”

In a literal blink of her eyes the Illusion is removed, revealing a mismatched set of pink and brown eyes, the colors opposite their corresponding mane color.

“Heterocromatic eyes, huh? And your mane looks to be your natural colors… that’s an unusual combination.”

“I got teased a lot growing up, sir. It’s what led me to discovering my talent.”

“Ah. Apologies for overstepping. You are aware I could change that if you’d like, right?”

“Tempting, sir, but I’ve gotten over it.”

“Very well. You’ll have the evening and tomorrow to familiarize yourself with my family. If you’ll follow me to my office, I have dossiers prepared for everypony I regularly interact with.” Without waiting for her to voice her agreement, he walks past the group and enters his room, hopping up on the small couch against the far wall.

Sgt. Bulwark leads the group down the short hallway, pausing a half step into the door as he takes the room’s interior in. Cure has to give the stallion credit; he’s the first uninitiated to walk through the door without the slightest hint of anxiety wafting off of him. He enters the room and sits near the corner to Cure’s left, looking over the mass of vines that make up the ceiling in wonder.

Sgt. Song does almost the exact same thing; she hesitates for half a second, but follows and sits to Bulwark’s left and is followed by Sgt. Haze. He, at least, doesn’t even so much as blink when he walks in the room, and positions himself to the left of the doorway, giving the final member of the herd room to step in and to her left to allow the door to close.

The mare enters the room, pausing just as the two sergeants had and stares at the ceiling for a moment. As soon as she’s clear of the door Cure pushes it shut, activating the privacy wards that are embedded in the walls and ceiling. The young alicorn’s voice pulls her out of her reverie when he calls out, “I believe introductions are in order. I am assuming they,” he motions to the sergeants, “have the proper clearance for your identity, correct?”

“We do,” Bulwark confirms. “With us being your hometown guard, as it were, we’re privy to a few things we normally wouldn’t otherwise be. Though, I suspect there’s a great number of things we’re not aware of,” he adds, meaningfully looking at the ceiling again.

“Likely so, sarge. None of that is need-to-know, though. Just a heads up on something you do need to be aware of, I will be traveling with a bodyguard tonight. Not that I doubt your abilities or anything, but the last time I took a train to Canterlot… well… you know what happened there.”

“Are you going to become a double-alicorn, sir?” Song teases.

Cure snorts a laugh, shaking his head no. “Harmony help me, I hope not. No, but if somepony attacks my train knowing full well a guard contingent is present then presumably they’re coming in force.” He looks to Bulwark and commands, “If that happens then your orders are to protect yourselves and any civilians that may be caught in the middle. Let my bodyguard deal with the threat. Understood?”

“If you’re certain, sir,” the stallion hesitantly replies.

“I am, very much so. I assure you he is more than capable.”

“Is this the same bodyguard as last time?” Haze asks.

Cure briefly wonders what, if anything, Solar shared. The stallion’s expression doesn’t betray anything, so maybe very little. “Nah, he wasn’t available, unfortunately. Don’t worry, this dude’s just as capable.”

“I find it odd that your detail isn’t accompanying us, sir,” Bulwark comments. “When your family traveled for your coronation there was almost a full platoon on duty.”

“Because I wasn’t there to ensure their safety, sergeant. Targeting my family is, unfortunately, the easiest way to hurt me, which is why the paladins and royal guards are staying here. Anyhow, introductions.” He focuses on the mare and raises a brow in question.

She raises her hoof to her brow in a salute. “Second Lieutenant Subtle Shift reporting, sir!”

“Very good, lieutenant,” he replies, sitting up to return the salute. “As you were.” When her posture relaxes he begins, “I can only assume her majesty, or perhaps Captain Shield, briefed you and, I’m guessing,” he speculates, panning his gaze over the sergeants, “somepony more local may have ‘warned’ you about me.” Their postures all shift slightly at the accusation with a laugh catching in Haze’s throat. Cure’s eyes narrow at the stallion who coughs and looks away. “Rightfully so, I’ll admit.”

“Her majesty advised that I not treat you like a foal, sir. I can certainly see why.”

Cure chuckles and lightly nods. “I’d bet my last bit that’s not all she said.”

The mare smiles and nods. “Somepony may have mentioned you can be a little… umm… intense at times, sir.”

“That sounds like the captain, if I had to guess. I can’t blame her. That’s a fair assessment. I do hope you’ll not take offense at this, but I’m not going to beat around the bush. While I am away, you are the very last line of defense for my family. I don’t anticipate any threats, obviously. If I did, I would be out there removing them right now,” a few brows raise at the casual promise of violence, “but I expect you to respond decisively should any reveal themselves. I am far more likely to forgive excessive force than I am to forgive any unnecessary harm done to my family. Do I make myself clear?”

“Sir! Yes, sir. The rules of engagement while protecting the family of royalty have been made clear to me.”

“Good. Give me a moment here to prepare the promised documents,” he requests, looking to the plain, barren wall to his left. A root snakes its way out of the ground, startling all but Haze. Mass flows up into the room, forming into a heavy, three drawer lateral file. It takes a couple minutes to grow, and another few minutes to fill itself with documentation.

Once it’s finished he nods in satisfaction and turns back towards the stunned group. “This is for your use only. It will only open if that door is shut and you’re the only one in the room. That door will not open until the documents are returned. An index is in the top drawer on the left that will assist you in finding the correct files. On it everypony is sorted in a number of ways; name, tribe, the nature of my association with them, etcetera, as well as a fold-out spider map detailing relationships.”

“Question,” Haze interrupts. “May we, perhaps, see our own files? I admit, I’m rather curious.”

“Sure.” He ignites his horn, opening one drawer after another and removing the files before floating them to each pony. “There’s the rest of your family as well, in case you were curious. At least, for those who I know enough about to create a separate file on.”

All three look over the packets for a moment in silence. “I’ve never introduced you to my wives, sir,” Bulwark notes with a hint of accusation in his voice.

“No, but it’s not like you don’t have lunch with one of them almost every day, either. As I’ve noted under the ‘Routines’ section of your file. It ain’t a big town, sarge.”

The stallion flips a few pages in, reading the section before nodding in acceptance.

“These are… very detailed,” Haze notes, holding up the pictures of himself and his family. There’s nothing inappropriate in the files, nor is there confidential medical information, but the volume and thoroughness of the documents clearly unsettle the stallion somewhat.

“They are,” Cure agrees. “And, whether her highness approves or not, I will explain to you why that is. Let me ask you this, first… How well do you all know your history; specifically, the fall of Trot?” Lt. Shift’s body language betrays her, showing she has been made aware of what Cure is referring to. The other three trade looks of confusion. “There is a species of creature that I consider a threat.”

Lt. Shift clears her throat and says, “With all due respect, sir, only officers are currently cleared to have that information.”

“Noted, lieutenant. If her majesty is unhappy with me informing those responsible for my own and my family’s safety then she can address that with me directly. I will not keep them oblivious to a potential threat simply so they can sleep soundly under the delusion that Equestria does not have enemies.”

Cure has to take a half second to ensure his mane didn’t start getting overly animated. He takes a deep, calming breath before he continues, “As I was saying, these creatures have supposedly all been banished away, much as was the Crystal Empire, and are unlikely to return in the near future. They are referred to as changelings, though they may have a different name for themselves. Regardless, they have the innate ability to mimic other creatures’ appearances, though I do not know the mechanism by which they do so.”

“Does this have anything to do with the missing ponies protocol recently implemented?” Song inquires.

“Indirectly, yes,” he answers. “Very astute of you to connect those, sergeant. Their known MO is to foalnap ponies and replace them, hence the additional follow-up on reports that may be related.

“These bug ponies are allegedly emotivores. Again, the mechanism is unknown, but apparently they are able to feed off of other creatures’ emotions. We have reason to believe that love, in particular, is something they rather enjoy. Logic dictates that they are able to sense any emotion from other creatures, so even without actively reading a pony’s mind they may be able to somewhat predict behaviors. Suspicion, anger, righteous fury… I don’t need to tell you what an advantage that would give somepony.”

Bulwark speaks up, asking, “Are we to assume some may have escaped their banishment similar to the occasional crystal pony that is found?”

“We are. Of course, that doesn’t necessarily mean they’re a threat. We simply don’t have enough information about them to predict their behavior. It’s entirely possible they could want nothing more than to be part of a community and lead a peaceful life.”

“Understood. I suppose asking about their appearance is less than helpful given their abilities, but just out of curiosity, what do they look like? You called them ‘bug ponies,’ so…”

Cure projects an illusion of approximately what he expects them to look like. The realization that he never asked Celestia crosses his mind, for which he gives himself a mental facehoof.

“This should be taken with a grain of salt, but you get the idea. No coat, black chitin, bug-like wings, crooked horn, holes in their legs. Note they do have both horns and wings, but we’re confident that every ability they have drains energy, so in a stand-up fight a single individual would probably not be a significant threat to an aware foe.”

“You consider these a potential threat to yourself?” Sgt. Haze asks. “I know you’re far from harmless, Cure… is there something we’re missing here?”

He dismisses the illusion and answers with a wave of his hoof in a “sort of” motion. “I kinda do and don’t at the same time. They allegedly have a queen who is larger, stronger, and more dangerous. Not likely alicorn levels, but definitely the match for a typical pony at the very least.

“We’re not sure if she’s completely unaging, but we have reason to believe she’s at least a millennium old. I don’t need to tell anypony how dangerous an experienced enemy can be. As for the typical brood, I am reasonably confident I could detect one and I’m very confident I could mop the floor with most, but I’m not dumb enough to think I’m invincible. There’s also one other major concern I have.

“We know little about their reproduction. We theorize that they may be able to reproduce with typical ponies, and given their bug-like nature, it’s not impossible that the queen or, potentially though unlikely, their females could produce a significant number of eggs. If they are hostile then I don’t think anypony wants to find out what the product of a male alicorn and a female queen, let alone hundreds, thousands, or more of them, would do to the balance of power in the world.”

All four show varying signs of disgust and worry at the idea, but ultimately nod in understanding.

Cure continues, his gaze shifting to the unicorn mare as he says, “With that in mind, I must insist on scanning you to ensure you are who you seem to be. You can imagine with your talent,” he trails off leadingly.

“Right, sir. Understood. You would be amazed how many extra physicals I’ve had to endure lately.”

“I probably would,” he agrees, scanning the mare. He nods in approval when everything is as it should be, though he notes the typical small problems and the minor deterioration in her physical condition due to age. She visibly appears to be in her mid-twenties, but is actually over a decade older.

“Excellent. I suppose that’s all I had for the three of you, then. If you’re done with those files, they need to go back in before the door will open, then I need to go over a few things with the lieutenant in private.”

The three accept the dismissal, passing back the files and leaving to get prepared for their journey later in the day. When the door seals shut again Cure lets out a sigh. “I kind of expected you to be a changeling, to be honest. The setup just seemed too perfect, ya know?”

The mare chuckles and nods. “Her highness said you can be a little paranoid at times, sir.”

“I bet she said more than that, and you can drop the formalities while we’re alone.”

“Very well. I can’t help but note you almost sound disappointed that I’m a unicorn.”

“Damn right I am. I’ve been dying to meet one of the freaking things. You know how compelling it is to use your special talent. Biology is mine, and what little we know about them paints a really interesting picture. Speaking of special talents,” he says, shooting her a look, “I know you ain’t in yer twenties, lady. You can drop the act and, if you want, I can make you legitimately look and feel that way if you’d like.”

Her ears perk up at the suggestion. “Really? The princess said you’d likely offer to remove the effects of aging. I didn’t really expect it, though.”

“Sure, no problem. Just say the word. Other than that, we do have a number of things to discuss. I’ll have a few other things in here other than just the files,” he says, motioning to the cabinet with a wing. “First off, presumably it would be helpful to have a ‘me’ to model your illusion after, right?”

“It would, but just seeing you is usually good enough.”

“I’ll make a model for you anyhow. It’ll be a plant, but you won’t know from looking at it. Feel free to do what you have to do to ensure accuracy; my talent peels away every layer of privacy anypony has, so I’m not going to begrudge you doing the same.”

“Understood.”

“Great.” His horn lights up and a tendril snakes out of the ground, passing him a large ceramic perfume bottle. He squeezes the ball, spraying a mist of liquid into the air.

The mare takes in the scent and nods in understanding. “That’ll be helpful. I can reproduce scents pretty well, but that cookie thing you got going on… that’s a little more difficult.”

“I’m sure. Now let’s talk about interactions with ponies. I’m guessing it would help if we went over some sample dialogues so you could get a feel for how I talk, right?”

She raises a brow at the suggestion, surprised the foal would anticipate that. “It would help me be more convincing,” she agrees after a moment of consideration.

“Great. So we’ll probably be here for a little while.” A tendril snakes away from his couch, beginning to form itself into another, larger one. “You might as well make yourself comfortable. And don’t hesitate to speak up if you’re hungry or thirsty or whatever, okay?”

Cure spent a couple hours bringing Lt. Shift up to speed and introducing her to the family. The situation is somewhat unusual for her given how many ponies are aware of the switch. Regardless, only family is allowed to know what she really looks like, and aside from a few partially scripted outings with the foals, “Cure Wave” will mostly stay at his dam’s side for the next two weeks.

After a too-short farewell, Amethyst and Cure, their colors already altered to a “boring” light and dark brown combination, make their way to the train station. No particular attention is paid to the pair when they arrive, and they begin making their way to Base Carol.

The same cannot be said for his Warrior puppet as it trudges out of the woods towing a flatbed cart with his highness’s luggage; a dozen heavy, wooden chests emblazoned with the prince’s cutie mark and packed with dense muscle tissue, bug samples, and commercial ideas. The being cheerily whistles Don’t Worry, Be Happy as he strolls down the street to the train station, garnering more than a few confused and worried looks.

Knowing that this version would be seen by, and need to interact with, the public, Cure had abandoned the first design and created a new one to be less visually terrifying and more mobile. With no need for a cavity large enough to house the colt’s body, he had instead opted for a bipedal design based off of a dark purple Argonian, though thickened up enough to give even the most foolhardy minotaur pause. He doubts he’ll need them, but gave the creature a large set of draconic wings that wrap around it like a cloak and hang down to its knees.

Cure loves the scythe-arm idea, but decreased the number to two, both of which are folded like a praying mantis’ would be, hidden underneath its wings to keep them mostly out of sight. The creature’s head is almost entirely draconic, with two fully functional horns jutting from its crown and several smaller, ornamental ones on its jaw and chin.

As much as he’s gotten used to being naked in public, having a bipedal design freely showing off the goods just doesn’t quite sit right. He also wasn’t particularly enamored with the idea of spending a lot of time theorizing on what an Argonian’s junk would look like or how it would work. Besides, the Warrior is on duty, and only a complete imbecile would go into a potential combat situation naked, so he is wearing a full set of armor.

It would be politically challenging for the Alicorn of Life to have a bodyguard wearing armor made of actual dragons, even if it was ethically sourced, so Cure was forced to transmute the surface to a thin, mostly cosmetic, layer of steel instead. At least Prestidigitation allowed him to alter the colors to a more palatable ‘black with dark red accents’ motif to better match the color of his scales.

Ponies, cows, donkeys, hippogriffs, and even the few griffons and dragons scramble to move aside for the bizarre creature, wary of the happily whistling being despite its cheery demeanor, stowed weaponry, and his helmet being clipped to his belt. A squad of exceedingly brave, yet visibly frightened guards moves to intercept him, forming a barrier between him and the station platform.

The lead mare, a pegasus corporal, steps forward and holds her hoof up with a shouted, “Halt!”

Warrior complies, stopping at once to cock a brow at the slightly trembling guardsmare. “Greetings, corporal,” he offers in a voice that is oddly high pitched for a creature his size. “How ever may I be of assistance to her majesty’s finest on this fine summer eve?”

The mare’s relief at his compliance is palpable. Resolve bolstered, she boldly declares, “His Highness, Prince Serpentus, is scheduled to arrive shortly. You will be required to hoof over any and all weapons, divest yourself of your armor, and to allow your cargo to be inspected.”

“A reasonable precaution,” he agrees, nodding enthusiastically. “One I wholeheartedly approve of. However,” he holds up a single finger on his left hand as he turns to his right and reaches back for a chest, tilting it up to show off the young alicorn’s mark. “I am serving as his highness’s personal bodyguard and this,” he tilts his head to the cart, “is his luggage. Presumably that exempts me from your standard policies?”

The mare works her jaw for a moment while trying to figure out how to react to the unexpected change in circumstances. “I… guess it would?” A unicorn private leans over and whispers in her ear. “Right! Proof! Do you have anything verifying any of that?”

“Certainly, my good mare. I have a letter from the young prince right here.” He sets the crate back down and delicately reaches into his armor, extracting a folded letter from beneath his breastplate. With slow, careful movements he unfolds it and holds it out for her inspection.

Without stepping any closer, she reads down the signed, stamped letter from his highness. Like a tub with its plug pulled, all of the tension drains from her body. “Oh! Perfect! You may need to show that to his escort, too, so maybe keep it on hoof. Claw. Whatever.”

“Of course, corporal,” he agrees, tucking the letter back into his armor. “I must say, I am quite aware of the effect my appearance has on ponies.” He pans his gaze over the entire squad as he continues, “That, despite your concerns, you all still stood before me… your bravery and commitment is truly commendable.”

Pride and humility war within the troupe as ears pink and hooves are scuffed against the ground. “Just doing our duty, sir. Carry on,” she quietly demures, waving the being on towards the station.

Warrior continues his trek, navigating through the throng of bodies. He spots a familiar group of ponies mustering closer to the rear of the train. To his initial surprise, several of the guards are accompanied by their families, most of whom are in the process of boarding at the moment. His shock passes in an instant when he recalls that Celestia mentioned they were getting a few days of extra leave in the capital.

He isn’t sure why Dawn isn’t coming along with her sire; perhaps he didn’t want to leave her alone when the competition starts, or maybe she just chose to stay back with her friends. Drift is the only other guard foal, but with Thunder Dance’s pregnancy and Tailwind Flare’s recent reprimand, neither of them are allowed to participate.

Regardless, Warrior makes his way over, calling out and waving in greeting as he nears. “Baltimare Regional Guard Unit Three, and family, I presume. That would make you Staff Sergeant Bulwark, if I’m not mistaken.” he ventures, leaning down to the gray earth pony to offer his fist for a bump.

The spike of panic pheromones spreads like a wave from the group, especially their foals and family. The few remaining civilians outside suddenly hurry their foals onto the train as if Warrior is going to gobble them up. Having been forewarned about the colt hiring a bodyguard, the three sergeants are quick to connect the dots, even if it still takes a few seconds for them to recover from having such a large, intimidating creature approach them.

“That would be me,” Bulwark confirms, bumping the offered fist. “You must be the bodyguard we were told to expect.”

“I am, indeed. You may address me as Warrior. It is my name, my profession, and most assuredly, my passion.” He glances over his back half at the heavily loaded flatbed and sighs. “Sadly, it is not my only duty. By your leave, sergeant, I would like to begin loading his highness’s luggage. For such a small foal he certainly does not travel lightly,” he grumbles good-naturedly.

The sergeant nods, waving to the royal car the princess sent, an opulent fuschia and gold eyesore emblazoned with Equestria’s flag on each side located only a few cars from the end of the train. “Go right on ahead. Bolt! Snare! Lend Warrior here your horns with his highness’s luggage.”

Warrior glances at the two named unicorns, neither looking particularly enthused to be voluntold to help out. He waves them off, insisting, “I appreciate the offer, but I have it all under control.” Unlike the car Cure rented last time, Celestia’s car does have a spot near the front large enough for her highness to easily board, even if it is probably a hard turn for her to get into the car.

Cure briefly considers that, due to her height and massive horn, every time the princess travels she likely has to cast Reduce on herself for the duration of her trip to be comfortable. With the interior being just over three and a half meters tall, there would be plenty of space for even a large earth pony to stand fully upright, but with an extra meter of horn jutting out of her brow, Celestia would be scraping the ceiling if she didn’t constantly dip her head while standing inside the car.

The mare has power enough to spare a hundred times over, but it still must be a pain in the ass to have to constantly shrink yourself just to do something everypony can just do naturally whenever.

Warrior walks up the steps and peeks inside, getting a feel for its layout. For the most part, it’s very similar to the last car he rented, though with some changes made with a single, larger pony in mind rather than a group. There is only one large bathroom, a luggage closet, a kitchenette, a dining room area only large enough for four ponies, a lounge, and a lone, massive (for a train) bedroom suite.

With the interior adequately mapped, Warrior begins teleporting one crate after another into the storage area, almost completely filling the small room. The guards had apparently not anticipated him being capable of magic; the unicorns in particular startle when his horns fire off the spells in quick succession.

A commotion draws everypony’s attention to the entrance, signaling the arrival of the young alicorn. The local squads rush to get in position, barricading off a corridor for him to pass through the crowd unmolested. Nearly every creature in attendance freezes to stare at the carriage and the royal procession. A cavalcade of flashes fire off as seemingly every reporter in the city is rushing to photograph one of his highness’s parents in public for the first time ever, even if her colors have been altered to match his gold and brown theme.

Bulwark barks out commands, calling the Golden Hills squad to come to attention. The guards all rush out and form up into two rows with Bulwark, Haze, and Song in the front right.

Warrior climbs off the train and casually leans against the car, idly watching as the colt approaches. Cure had warned his guards about his bodyguard, so aside from a quick assessment, they pay him no mind. The Golden Hills contingent salutes as one when an invisible line five meters out is crossed.

The entourage stops a couple meters from Bulwark’s squad, but Cure and Amethyst take another step closer and he returns the salute. “Good evening, Sgt. Bulwark. How are we looking?”

“Sir! Everything is in order, sir! Her majesty’s private car is prepared and your bodyguard just finished loading your luggage.”

Cure turns and looks at the Warrior, spends a moment analyzing him, then looks back to Bulwark and tilts his head in confusion. “What bodyguard? I’ve never seen that dude in my life.”

Everypony freezes. As one, all heads turn to look at the creature in question.

“And there’s that charming alicorn wit we can never get enough of,” Warrior sighs. “How very droll.”

Amethyst bumps him with a foreleg, growling, “Behave.”

The colt begins chuckling, diffusing the tension. “Sorry, sorry. I couldn’t help myself. Warrior is my bodyguard, yes.” He quickly glances around at the overall scene and says, “Well I better get onboard so everypony can get to work. As you were, sergeant.”

“Sir! Yes, sir!”

With a departing nod, Cure and Amethyst, along with the Warrior, board the train and enter their car. As the two squads briefly converse, mostly about what the Warrior is and where his highness found him, nopony pays any mind to the single crow watching the scene from atop the train, nor do they notice the unremarkable pair of earth pony mares renting a modest cab near the front of the train.

Author's Note

Just because you can only effectively move two pieces at once does not mean there's not more in play. Will something happen on this train trip? I suppose we'll just have to wait and see, but Cure seems to be ready either way.

The original Warrior design was based off of a Tyranid Warrior, the sight of which would cause anyone with the slightest modicum of self preservation to flee in an instant. If Cure wants to be able to have his Warrior accompany him to anything, then he needs to have a design that's a little easier on the eyes, but still exceedingly capable of tackling any and all situations that could arise.

Something he may not have considered - there could be repercussions to having a bodyguard at all, especially one with such evident draconic origins. Who knows what could happen there...

Of course, the real question is, "Which of the creatures pointed out is the real Cure?" The alicorn colt? One or both of the earth pony mares? Obviously it's not the crow, that's just a lookout that will fly ahead of the train to scout for anything that could be used to derail or stop it. Maybe his brain is really in the Warrior. Or, perhaps he's somewhere else no one would think to check, remotely puppeting everything from an undisclosed location.

He's certainly paranoid enough to do something like that, isn't he?

As always, thanks for reading, rating, and especially commenting.

Enjoy!

Chapter 102: Prince Blueballs

Sunday, August 30th, 909 AB
Just after sunrise

“It’s bullshit!” the mare grumbles for the hundredth time, staring at her plate of pancakes with murderous intensity. “Spent all that time getting ready and what do they do?!”

“Nothin?” Amethyst ventures, choking back the laugh that threatens to escape her throat. While not exactly funny, per se, she can’t help but find the way the colt pays no mind to the fact that he’s in the body of a white earth pony mare slightly amusing. The strangeness of it is jarring in a way that tickles her funny bone. Having another mare grumping and complaining with all the same mannerisms as her son is so bizarre that she is struggling not to laugh, even if it probably wouldn’t be appreciated at the moment.

“Nothing!” the disguised colt seethes, jaw clenched so hard a normal pony’s teeth would be creaking. At least this time his mane doesn’t start flaring up. The damn thing woke her up more than once in the otherwise dark of the sleeper cab when his agitation over nothing happening got the better of him.

With a Sound Bubble crystal keeping their conversation private, he doesn’t bother cutting loose. “The spineless mother fuckers didn’t hesitate to send a hit squad when they’re going after some normal colt -”

Amethyst scoffs, quietly mumbling, “Not sure that’s how I’d describe ya,” as he carries on overtop her.

“- but give me a shiny fucking hat and all the sudden the pussies don’t even make a token effort! Fuck those chicken shit assholes right in their eye sockets! I oughta have one of my clones turn into a huge, fat elephant and go drop a steaming, rancid, Chipotle quality load right on the steps to their embassy!”

Amethyst watches as the mare across from her raises her foreleg in the air, ready to slam her hoof down on the table, her lips pulled back in a distinctly non-ponylike snarl that would be a lot less out of place on a mountain lion. Fortunately, the colt has more self control than that. Barely.

Cure eyes the hoof for a moment, sneering at it as if her own appendage has offended her, then speculatively glances at the table itself. Knowing full well the thing wouldn’t survive a real hit, she growls at nothing in particular, snatches her fork off the table, viciously impales another bite of her pancakes, tosses it in her mouth, and chews it far more aggressively than the soft, syrup-saturated morsel requires.

Amethyst lifts her mug and downs the last swig of her coffee, grimacing at the concoction that pales in comparison to the fare she’s become accustomed to over the last several months. It’s the little things that tell her just how spoiled she truly has become. Perfectly ripe, juicy, flavorful fruit whenever she wants, magically cultivated, impossibly decadent veggies, special talent baked sweets and treats with the highest quality ingredients.

That doesn’t even include the literally perfect health, nigh orgasmic massages on demand, or the absolutely orgasmic rutting sessions with her spouses. It’s the kind of wealth that can’t be measured in bits; something she hadn’t even noticed herself accepting as a normal part of life. She’s half tempted to ask the colt to brew up a pot of the good stuff, but with the mood he… she’s in it’s probably best just to hold off until they get to the castle.

“Cure, honey?” she softly calls, pulling her out of her reverie. “Didjya really expect that Zebrica or Minos or whoever is gonna roll the dice on starting a full-on war, not to mention piss off Celestia freaking Sol, just ta try foalnappin ya again?” She doesn’t wait for a response, continuing, “Especially after ya singlehoofedly took out a few dozen of ‘em before even becomin an alicorn? Honey, I ain’t no military strategist or whatnot, but that right there strikes me as long odds with a bad, fiery payoff.”

A heated snort blasts out the mare’s snout like an angry bull. She grumbles a few more times under her breath, quietly cursing them one last time for having the temerity to not attack the train. All at once she sags, looking like a foal staring into a cookie jar and finding only crumbs and disappointment.

“I guess not,” she weakly despairs, leaning forward enough her chin is almost resting on the table. “Is this what it’s going to be like, though?” she asks, glancing up to meet Amethyst’s eyes. “Am I already at the point where nopony wants to even try to take me on? I mean… I’m not exactly looking for a fight, but… I dunno. It’s just…” the disguised foal trails off forlornly.

Amethyst softens her look and reaches across the table, resting a hoof on the camouflaged foal’s shoulder. “Ya wanted ta show off a bit, didn’t ya?”

Cure gives a half shrug, tilting her head back and forth a little. “Sort of, maybe? Like… I’m always waiting for the other shoe to drop, ya know?” Amethyst nods in understanding and she continues, “I always feel like there’s this boogeyman -”

“Mare,” she softly corrects.

He rolls his eyes, “- boogeymare waitin just outta sight, watchin for the moment to strike when I’ve lowered my guard. Like some zebra shaman is gonna jump out of a shadow and launch some crazy curse or whatever. I fully expected for my drone,” her eyes flick up to the ceiling, indicating the bird she had flown overhead all night long, “to spot some tree down across the tracks or some kinda spell circle drawn on the ground or even a bunch’a troops lyin in wait, ya know?”

She sits up and her snout wrinkles. “I could almost feel it in my bones!” she forcefully declares, forelegs shaking as the muscles flex, her pectorals and biceps bulging in a way quite a few stallions would be jealous of.

“I just knew some asshole would try something to stop the train, then dozens of zebras, griffon mercenaries, minotaurs, maybe even a dragon or two… they’d rush in from all sides to either take me out or get a hold of you or maybe just threaten Bulwark’s troops - Haze especially, what with Dawn and all.

“I’d have the Warrior just sit back and laugh or say something badass like,” he briefly deepens his voice and adds a hiss, a far more spine-tingling sound than the high pitched one he gave Warrior at the station, “‘You are missstaken. I am his mother’sss bodyguard. He doesss not need one,’ or whatever. Then I’d absolutely unleash the swarm and knock ‘em all out in like two seconds, maybe blast some Firebolts or Magic Missiles or something just to look cool or hit any flyers they may’ve had.”

A small smile creeps across the mare’s muzzle as she looks out the window at the passing scenery, imagining how amazing it would have been to have everypony on the train watch in awe as their prince singlehoofedly dispatches the would-be attackers with contemptuous ease and saves the day. She blows out a sigh and turns back to the table, stabbing a big chunk of pineapple and biting it in half. Her tongue licks up the juices that threaten to run down her chin before she pops the rest of it in her muzzle.

“At least then I would have the chance, ya know?” she pauses, swallowing the fruit. “I would be able to show ‘em that there’s no point in even tryin. The only question would be if I wanna hold back showin what I can really do, or if I should just go all out and put the fear of the maker in ‘em right ‘n proper. Instead I got all worked up and ready to go then nothin. Fuckin blueballs, ma! It’s not fair!”

“But honey,” Amethyst starts, voice dripping with unusually sugary-sweet sympathy that momentarily throws Cure off, “that’s what color your coat is. Your balls are almost always blue.”

Cure stares at the mare dumbfounded for a solid three seconds. A snorted laugh escapes the disguised colt and she begins chuckling while nodding. “I can’t believe I’ve never made that joke before. Permanent blue balls…” she trails off with a sigh. “Oh well. At least I got a closer look at an airship, even if it’s kinda meh. Woulda been nice if the princess told me I had more of an escort than just Bulwark’s team.”

“Maybe she didn’t order it herself,” Amethyst suggests. “For all ya know the ship’s commander took it upon themselves to provide his highness an escort.” She shrugs and adds, “Maybe they thought they would be the one swoopin in ta save you if somepony tried somethin.”

Cure can’t even deny the possibility. “I guess. Savin an alicorn would probably get somepony bumped right up to the top of the list next time a good assignment opens up.”

“I’m sure. So… what’s the plan for us gettin back in tha royal car? I don’t reckon they’d let us just waltz on through without some questions bein asked. Questions ya may not wanna answer, if ya know what I mean.”

“Yeah. They would let us by if his highness told them to expect us. Or I could undo our disguises.” Her snout scrunches and she amends, “Well, change one disguise to another, I suppose. Or I could just teleport us directly in from our room.”

A look of alarm crosses his mom’s features as she recoils away. “Teleport on a moving train?!”

“Sure, why not? I mean, normally it would be a terrible idea, but I can see the origin and destination points, so targeting isn’t a problem. We’re already moving at the same speed, so at worst you’d just stumble a little if I used the runes to preserve momentum. I could teleport you a few inches above the mattress easily.”

“Won’t they detect that?”

“Maybe, but I doubt it. Again, I could tell them to ignore the teleport that’s about to happen. The beauty of being royalty is you don’t have to explain yourself, so they wouldn’t even ask why somepony is teleporting in.”

“Ah. Yeah, I suppose. What about Warrior? Gonna introduce ‘em to her highness?”

Cure scoffs, shaking her head no. “No way in hell. He’s already gone. She may not be able to feel the portal, but I bet she can sense magical signatures or something. She saw right freakin through my invisibility once without even casting a spell, so… no, I’ll save that trick for now.”

“But… last time your plants all -”

“- had the same signature, too,” he finishes, nodding in agreement. “I know. But they were my plants. They would’a been saturated with my magic. Another sapient, living being? My magic should be flushed outta their system in an hour or less. I’ll just say I dismissed him when we approached and he fucked off somewhere. Wouldn’t want to scare all the fancy-schmancy unicorns with the big, scary, bipedal lizard dude, after all.

“I transmuted the steel back and made my cases a tiny bit bigger than they already were. That took care of the biomass, and nopony should notice the difference. Oh, and by the way, we should probably get going soon. It looks like the boss lady sent her carriage to pick us up and there’s like… a whole freaking mess of ponies gathering outside the station.”

Amethyst shrugs and bobs her head in acceptance. “Ready when you are. You done?”

Cure eyes the last couple pieces of toast left on the table. His eyes briefly flick about the room, ensuring nopony is watching. With speed so quick Amethyst almost thinks she imagined it, his tongue shoots out, wraps around the half-slices of bread, and yanks them back into his mouth. She blinks a couple times, glancing back and forth between the now clean plate and the smirking, chewing mare across from her. “Mhm. Wes go.”

Teleporting onto a moving train, as his mother noted, would be an extremely difficult and likely dangerous undertaking under normal circumstances. Doing so generally requires that the teleported party be moving at a speed and direction almost matching the train’s. Failing to do so will likely result in them finding out what it feels like to hit a wall at whatever the difference in velocity is.

A factor he hadn’t considered until he began preparing for the teleport was that not only was the train traveling forwards, it was, due to the curvature and rise of the mountain, also moving in a very slight arcing motion at an incline. This caused a minor disparity between the exact direction of motion between the front of the train where their cab was located and the back of the train where the royal car was.

As insignificant as the difference was, it was easy to set up a safety net in the royal car using the excess biomass from his luggage. Suspended off the ground yet anchored firmly at a dozen points, the spiderweb-like cocoon easily captured both “mares” with ease. His mother’s artificially bolstered toughness eliminated the need for any additional bracing or safety harness.

Cure decided to have his clone warn the guards beforehoof. As predicted, nopony asked any questions about who was teleporting in or why they couldn’t wait, though Haze pointed out the inherent dangers of doing so into a moving vehicle. With his highness’s assurance that “measures have been taken,” no further comment was made. It’s unclear whether that’s because they’re trained to accept their superiors’ decisions or because they are rushing to do last minute checks on their armor in preparation for the reception awaiting them.

With the teleports and cleanup complete and little else to do, the two sit snuggled together on one of the couches in the lounge area enjoying the relative peace of the train, aware that they’ll soon be the center of attention.

The scent of mild, but growing anxiety prompts the colt to wrap his mom’s neck in a wing embrace and nuzzle against her cheek. “No need to be nervous, ma. We’ll have dozens of guards between us and the photographers.”

“I ain’t nervous,” she too-quickly insists. “Just… ya know, ain’t used’ta all’a tha attention is all.”

“All ya gotta do is walk from the train to the carriage and hop in.”

“I know.”

“Want a little anti-anxiety hit? I can kinda smooth out yer nerves if ya want.”

The mare scoffs and shakes her head no, not once looking away from the window. “I don’t need ya druggin me, colt. I’ll be right as rain, so don’t you worry ‘bout me.”

“If yer sure, ma,” he reluctantly accepts, though he does tighten his embrace around her neck. “Ya know what, momma? I just had a thought.”

“New experiences can be fun, huh, colt?”

“Har har. No, I mean, the guards are aware that somepony has teleported in. That gives me a good reason to have somepony teleport out, too.”

“Ah. Gonna send out a few bodies?”

“Basically. I’ll send three chunks to make the numbers match in case they can sense it, then combine them back together and use it to plant a bunch of starter seeds. I should be able to take over a chunk of the woods at the base of the mountain before I have to start seeing patients.”

She cocks a bow, cautioning, “Yer soundin more like a plague than a pony, colt.”

His bottom lip juts out in a mighty pout. “I’m briefly converting a bunch of trees and bushes to magic generating cells so I can better heal the members of our military and their families.” He hangs his head and lets his ears go limp, pitifully pawing at the couch. “‘s not like I’m not gonna leave it better ‘n it was ta begin with, and it’ll only be a hectare’s worth or so.”

Amethyst rolls her eyes and snorts dismissively. “Better quit it with that lip, colt. Keep puttin it out there ’n some lil birdy’ll come land on it. Ya know what ya get then, right?” Not waiting for him to answer, she bumps his cheek with her own, “Ya get bird poop in her mouth. That’s whatchya get.”

“Uh huh. Any bird landing on these lips is gonna find out about the teeth right behind ‘em. Anyhow, I’m sending out the three bodies to explain the absence of our clones and the Warrior. Gimme a sec.”

Cure doesn’t bother moving to the front of the cab and, instead, simply ignites his horn and teleports three random crates somewhere outside the train. He continues laying against the mare while staring off into the distance for a minute before nodding to himself. “Sweet. Now we need to figure out what we’re wearing. I’m thinking a nice suit like I wore on my date, maybe? Black, white undershirt, and a nice ascot in dark green to match the emerald in my regalia?” He refolds his wings and backs away a couple hooves, then sits his rump and holds his forelegs out as the described outfit forms around him. “Thoughts?”

She shakes her head no, motioning to his neck. “Suit’s fine but go with a bow tie and a vest instead. Ain’t seen anypony wearin an ascot in ages. Can ya do me up a dress too? Suppose the same green as yer tie so we’re matchin. That oughta work just fine. None of that hoity-toity frilly mess!” she quickly adds. She shakes her head, bemoaning, “Sweets’d never let me hear the end of it if she saw me in one ‘a them.”

“You got it, ma,” he easily agrees. He fishes a gold ring out of his mane and activates it, the other side of which Amethyst knows is inside the remaining crates. Setting the ring against her back, mass begins flowing out to wrap around her.

She sits upright as it creeps around her barrel, forming itself into a nice business suit just like she’d described. The dark green is a near match for Vines’ actual coat with a glossy sheen that shows off the quality of the fabric. The color wouldn’t look right at all with her normal coat color, but matches nicely with the browns and golds the colt uses for his Serpentus disguise.

Amethyst has never really been one for clothing, but she can’t help but note how comfortable the silk fabric feels against her fur. She twists and turns, rolling her shoulders to test her range of motion and is pleasantly surprised to find the suit almost moves like a second coat. Nodding in approval, she can’t help but compliment its creator. “Not bad at all, colt. How long we got?”

He looks out the window and nods towards the sun hanging just above the horizon in the eastern sky. “We’re at the summit. We’ll be pulling into the station in just a few minutes.” A firm knock on the door draws the pair’s attention. Cure gives her a quick nuzzle and hops off the couch to face the door, igniting his horn and sliding it open to reveal Bulwark, Song, and Haze peering in, each one sporting freshly buffed equipment. “Come on in, sergeants. What can I do ya for?”

The three sergeants make their way in past the completely empty breakfast tray his puppet had been brought, glancing around as if they are trying to spot some trap.

“Where did your bodyguard go, Cure?” Haze finally asks.

“Oh! Once we reached the city I dismissed him. He and my two visitors teleported out just a few minutes ago. I know how the dude looks and I didn’t want some highfalutin noble gettin their horn in a twist when his highness steps off the train with an unknown draconic creature guarding him.”

“I… see,” he hesitantly replies. Somehow, Cure gets the impression that the sergeant is a little suspicious about his bodyguard’s origins.

“Don’t worry,” Cure assures him, “he’ll turn back up when we’re ready to leave. If I know him he’s probably off lookin for a good antique store right about now.”

“Antique store?” Song echoes, head tilted to the side.

“Oh yeah, dude’s like really into lamps. It’s weird if ya ask me, but hey, whatever, everycreature needs a hobby I suppose. I don’t recommend you bring it up unless you want to sit through a thirty minute diatribe about what circumstances whatever kind of freakin oil is best under and what globe materials provide the best light diffusion. I’ll be honest, despite my best efforts I kinda mentally checked out on him out once he started goin about what kinda oil did the best at chasing away evil spirits and stuff.”

“Evil spirits?”

Cure scoffs and rolls his eyes, “I know, I know… dude’s superstitious as all get out. Besides, everypony knows sesame oil is best to keep ghosts away.”

“Of… of course, sir.” The colt can’t help but notice his mom silently shaking in laughter off to the side.

Bulwark interrupts the conversation, saying, “We came to make sure you were ready to pull into the station, but,” he pauses a moment, looking over their outfits, “I see you’ve already prepared. Arc and Reed said they spotted a formal reception, which we were not informed of,” he nearly growls, “so we figured it best to go over the protocol before we arrive.”

“Ugh… joy,” Cure deadpans, snout scrunched in disgust. He waves a forehoof to proceed, sighing, “Alright, sarge. Give me the rundown.”

With the curtains drawn and windows darkened to prevent anypony from seeing into the car as they approach, Cure is forced to watch the proceedings through his crow parked in a nearby tree.

Two carriages are lined up about a hundred meters to the west of the train; Celestia’s Royal Carriage in the lead with a squad of Royal Guards standing by its door. A second boxier, less ornate one, presumably for his luggage, sits behind it. Two castle guard squads led by Captain Shield and Lieutenant Spear stand opposite each other on either side of the pathway from the train car to the carriage and quite a few more Canterlot guard squads are blocking street traffic and keeping pedestrians out of the paved road.

Dozens upon dozens of reporters are on the captain and lieutenant’s left, just to the north of their squads, some of whom are flyers taking to the air with their cameras at the ready. Opposite the reporters and closer to the train is a sight that brings a legitimate smile to the colt; a small band of ponies with trumpets at the ready.

The street opposite the carriage is absolutely packed with hundreds of ponies, including a rather large gathering of foals, virtually all of whom are fillies, watching with eager anticipation. Some of the girls are levitating homemade signs proclaiming their love, banners of his cutie mark, or are hugging plush toys made in his image to their chests.

It’s a surreal experience seeing legitimate fans excited to greet him, but aside from the actual act of ascending, he can’t think of anything that he has done that most foals would care about at all. There have been a few dozen Canterlot residents he’s treated over the last couple months, many of whom are present in the crowd, but for the other ninety-five percent of ponies present the only reason he can figure they are present is because he is an alicorn, a prince, or both. He could imagine some mares may try to capture his eye if he were older, but at his age that seems like a futile endeavor.

He takes a moment to look at the train, noting how aside from a few employees there is little other motion. The colt has to admit that if he were one of the normal passengers he would probably be a bit miffed right now. Apparently every other creature has to remain in their cab until his highness has disembarked and been loaded into the waiting carriage. It won’t delay them very long; though there is some ceremony to the whole thing it probably won’t take more than a few minutes.

As the train pulls into the station, the two sergeants stand at attention on the landing area at the front of the car, the door open so they can let him know when it’s time for him to exit. Once the train comes to a full stop several ponies rush out, both from the station and from the train itself, presumably to make final checks and ensure everything is prepared for the passengers to exit.

Cure spots one of the engineers meet Bulwark’s eyes and give him a nod before moving on further up the train. The gray stallion lifts his right forehoof and gives the platform a mighty stomp, bringing silence to the entire station. The dozens of Canterlot guards stand at parade rest, their spears set upon the ground and held loosely at seventy degrees.

Sgt. Song marches out of the next car, her steel-shoed hooves and the butt of her spear, held straight up, tapping a staccato one-two rhythm. Her front left and right hind hooves meet metal in the same instant, alternating with her spear in the crook of her right fetlock and her left hind hoof. She trots up to the sergeants, starting straight ahead. The mare executes a smooth two second long, ninety degree rotation to her right, the click-clack of her march continuing as she turns.

Legs never stopping for an instant, she descends the steps, marches forwards exactly four meters, turns ninety degrees to her right again, walks one body length forward, then smoothly about-faces, finally coming to a halt, stopping her march, and firmly planting the butt of her spear on the ground to stand at parade rest, just like the Canterlot guards.

Her chest swells with breath and, in the otherwise quiet of the outdoor station, her smooth mezzo sounds out, “GOLDEN HILLS! FOOOOORM! UP!”

One by one in quick succession the remaining guards follow her example, lining up to the sergeant’s left, spaced out with one meter between them. It only takes a moment for Corporals Static Arc, Ricochet, and Luring Snare to march down and get in position. The privates exit next; Marshy Reed, Silent Bolt, Ginger Fizz, and Rushing Charge march down, stop even with the gaps, turn, walk a body length past their superiors, then about face to create a staggered second column.

Song sucks in another breath, bellowing out, “ATTEN. SHUN.” Every soldier straightens up, snapping to attention. Spears stand straight, heads are raised, chests are thrust out, and everypony prepares to welcome his highness. The minute, almost imperceptible turn of Bulwark’s neck signals for Cure to begin walking and the band begins to play.

An eruption of flashes fire off from the cameraponies as he steps outside, smiling demurely for the cameras and raising his right wing in a modest wave. The jewel Celestia enchanted lightly vibrates; a sign that at least one reporter is using some form of scrying. Another round of flashes goes off when Amethyst steps by his side. The two pause only a moment before turning and making their way down the stairs.

Cure is aware of Bulwark, then Haze, stepping forward and doing the same marching-turn that Song demonstrated. They follow behind his mother only a body’s length back. Cure continues walking straight ahead towards the carriage, the Golden Hills squad right-facing as he passes. Song and Static begin marching to Bulwark and Haze’s right just a single hooffall after the column of privates begin moving to match their alignment.

The captain and lieutenant, being the only ponies without spears, salute as Cure approaches. He returns it with a nod, proceeding between their squads and continues towards his transport. The crowd of ponies erupt in cheering stomps, shouts, and waves when he enters the street, the high pitched screaming of the fillies nearly drowning out any other noise. The captain and lieutenant, along with their squads, turn and follow his retinue out of the station and begin making their way to the fore and aft of his carriages.

He watches from his bird as six rail employees begin unloading his luggage, several of them quietly cursing at the unexpected weight of the boxes, then expressing their surprise when over ninety percent of the burden suddenly disappears. Cure watches intently, relieved when he sees that, at least from initial appearances, nopony appears to be trying to steal anything. He then momentarily considers that he may actually welcome somepony trying to steal one now, given his far expanded capabilities.

As he trots towards the carriage, a stray thought flits through the colt’s mind and he makes a split-second decision. The devious smirk on his muzzle is caught by his Royal Guard sergeant, apparently, as the unicorn’s eyes widen slightly in alarm. To the stallion’s immense relief, Cure doesn’t do anything out of the ordinary.

He walks up to the carriage, climbs in, makes room for his mother, and the carriage door swings shut. The sergeant blows out a small sigh of relief, turns to Sgt. Bulwark, salutes, and formally relieves him and the Golden Hills squad of their charge, never realizing the door on the opposite side of the carriage has started opening.

Cure pushes the door open, spreads his wings, and waves both them and a foreleg, sending the crowd absolutely wild. Despite his mother’s urging not to, he hops and glides down to approach the group of nearly rabid fillies. The foals surge, almost overrunning the guards lined up to keep them off the street. The Royal and Canterlot Guards rush to provide backup, slowing as they realize the situation isn’t as out of control as they had feared.

Cure makes his way down the row of fillies, reaching between the guards to hoofbump some, lean in for a sometimes overly familiar nuzzle with others, magically sign some of the plushies with his talent, or even get a kiss on the cheek from a few of the bolder girls. He gladhooves with of the adults on either side of the fillies, too, and makes an effort to offer more familiar greetings to ones he recognizes, and, especially, ponies wearing clothes denoting their healthcare profession.

Conscious of the growing impatience of the ponies still stuck inside the station, he only spends about ten minutes greeting everypony before peeling away. His horn ignites and he teleports back into the carriage doorway, turned to face the crowd.

He infuses his voice with power to be heard by all in attendance. “As much as I would love to individually greet each and every one of you,” he calls overtop of the quieting mob, “I’ve been told many, many times by my sire to not keep a mare waiting. As kind and patient as the princess is, I am neither bold nor foolish enough to risk finding her majesty’s limits. Thank you for the warm reception, Canterlot! I will look forward to meeting more of you as my schedule permits! Until next time!”

The fervent screams cut off at once when he steps back and pulls the carriage door shut; the sound baffling enchantment activating to silence the outside world. Cure blows out a sigh of relief, wings and shoulders sagging from the dwindling adrenaline fleeing his system.

“Look at you,” Amethyst teasingly mocks from the rear bench, “such a little schmoozer. Yer lucky ya didn’t get plucked clean by them fillies, colt.” Cure turns and maturely blows a raspberry in response. Amethyst rolls her eyes, but shifts to the side, holding her forelegs apart in invitation for the colt.

His suit melts away in an instant as he hops up, turns like a puppy, and flops with his croup against her chest to lay with his back down her right leg. His left wing reaches up and wraps around the right side of her neck to pull her chin down on top of him in a hug.

“Mm… like the new scent,” she comments, snuffling further into his wingpit for a moment. “Orange ‘n cedar?”

“Yep. Figured I can’t be smellin like cookies in disguise. A few did try to sneak a feather off’a me, but those things are anchored in real good. The only thing any of them got was some strands of my tail or mane that they snapped in half while tryin to pull.”

“Seriously?!” she asks, the exclamation vibrating her throat against his left side. “Huh… they’re bolder’n I was at that age, that’s fer sure. ‘Course there weren’t no alicorn colts runnin ‘round back then ta fawn over. Y’alright?”

He nods, nuzzling against her chin. “Mmhmm. Glad yer here, though.” He leans back, planting a kiss on the mare’s cheek before laying back down. “Thanks for coming, ma. I know you didn’t exactly sign up for all’a this when you and Lemon decided to join in the insanity.”

“Shit, colt, it ain’t no big deal,” she lies, the scent of her anxiety not escaping his notice. “‘Sides, I get ta spend most’a tha next week ‘n a half doin whatever I want at the Royal Castle. Again! Puttin up with all’a that?” she scoffs, waving at the door with her left hoof, “That ain’t no big thing at all.”

He gives a half shrug, refurling his wing to release her. “Well thanks anyhow. It looks like they just about got my luggage secured, so we’ll be heading out in a moment. And… I think Shield and Spear are headed this way. Guess they’ll be joining us.”

“Want me ta let ya up?”

“Hell no,” he insists, nuzzling against her chin again. “If they got somethin ta say then I friggin dare ‘em.”

“Good,” she declares, nosing at the side of his muzzle before she fully settles down on him. It’s only a moment later when the carriage’s left door opens up. Neither Cure nor Amethyst react other than tilting their heads to glance in that direction. The armored mares climb into the carriage and remove their covers, strapping the helmets to their right hips, close the door, and hop onto the opposite bench.

The unicorn’s heated scowl is met with a smirk from the colt. “Really, sir?” she huffs, more annoyed than angry.

“Sorry, captain,” he insincerely apologizes, “but what’s the harm? I know I didn’t delay the schedule.” He inclines his head as much as he can under his mom, motioning to the carriage behind them. “They’re still strapping my stuff down. Honestly I should’a just teleported all that crap and saved everypony the trouble.”

“The harm is that somepony could have done something. You have guards for a reason,” she flatly explains.

“I understand that, captain. Humor me for a moment here, okay? Do you know what that reason is?”

The mare purses her lips, clearly understanding what the colt is suggesting, but not giving him the satisfaction of answering. Instead she turns away and blasts another huff out her snout.

“Look, I get it,” he assures her, craning his neck so his mom’s left foreleg acts as a pillow, “I went off script. When I’m going to do stuff like that in the future -”

“Don’t!” she insists, her head whipping back to face him.

“When I do that in the future,” he forcefully repeats, “I’ll at least give you all a thirty second warning.”

“And if you’re always ignoring the cordon, what are you going to do when somecreature inevitably tries something?”

“Take them out and pray that I’m the only one they hit. You’re severely underestimating me, Captain Shield. I am not just some ordinary foal, you know.”

She gives him a disbelieving look which, given the way he’s being held by his mommy, strikes him as somewhat fair. “Hey,” he whines, “I like snuggle time as much as anypony. I’m a cuddler. Sue me.” Amethyst’s laughing doesn’t exactly help. When the mare continues staring incredulously he rolls his eyes and pats his mom’s foreleg to let him up. “Fine, fine, a demonstration,” he sighs in disappointment.

“I don’t know -” Amethyst begins, cutting off when he tiredly waves her concern away.

He sits on his rump just ahead of his mother and turns to face the two mares. “Watch, captain, and neither of you freak out here, okay? I will be fine,” he insists.

“There’s no need -” the lieutenant begins. Her jaw falls open and she recoils away when his head jerks violently to the left, rotating a full three hundred and sixty degrees to face back towards them. The snapping crunch of his bones fill the cab, firing off like a chain of explosions. She half gasps, half shrieks in terror as she inhales a lungful of air, her motions, minus the flailing wings, and mannerisms matched by the unicorn beside her.

Amethyst reacts as well, though more with disgust than horror. She turns away with a harsh cringe, her whole body shuddering at the extremely upsetting sound.

“See?” he mildly asks, neck still twisted like a wrung towel. “I’m perfectly fine,” he assures them. They both watch warily as his head rotates back around. For show more than anything, he rolls his neck and head around, snapping a few vertebrae back in place. “The only way somepony could hurt me is if they manage to blow me to pieces - small ones at that - or incinerate me completely, and having one of your guards between me and that kind of attack would just get them killed anyhow. Okay?”

He cocks a brow at the two mares, both of their backs still firmly pressed against the front panel of the interior, still staring at him like they’re waiting for him to fall over dead. He holds his forehooves up and fake lunges with a shouted “Boo!”

Both mares scream and jump away, the pegasus landing atop the unicorn in a pile at the far end of the opposite bench before they both fall onto the floor in a heap. Both Cure and his mom burst out laughing at the absurd scene, their revelry drawing more than a few curses from the mares as they finally get control of themselves. Cure, meanwhile, climbs back between his mom’s forelegs and settles back down, still shaking in subdued laughter.

“Feel better now, captain?” he teasingly calls out.

“No!” she sternly growls. Hissing between clenched teeth, she continues, “I do not feel better, your highness.”

“Please,” Lt. Spear begs, her left hoof pressed against her chest over her heart, “please, please, please never do anything like that again.”

The colt’s laughter subsides and his look softens. “Alright, lieutenant. I won’t. Probably. Still, you don’t have to worry about me so much. I am, after all, the Alicorn of Life. I will not be discharged from my duty so long as Life remains.”

Amethyst raises her neck to look down at the colt in shock. Both officers stare wide-eyed, frozen in place by the force of the declaration. The colt deflates with a sigh, closing his eyes and resting his muzzle on his mother’s foreleg.

The silence is only shattered by his growled exclamation.

“Fuck!”

The carriage ride is relatively quick, mostly owed to the heavy guard escort closing down the main route between the station and the castle. The colt’s tail betrays his excitement, swishing merrily against his mother’s side upon their arrival. As the carriage is being pulled into position, the front doors of the castle open wide and Princess Celestia strolls out to greet him, moving languidly but still quickly making her way down the stairs with her ridiculously long stride.

He impatiently looks between the still-closed door and the two mares a few times, his youthful exuberance earning a quiet chuckle from the officers.

Finally the “tonk” of the step lowering sounds out and the door swings open. Lt. Spear and Cpt. Shield intentionally take their time standing, dusting off their armor, tightening their straps, inspecting their helmet, and only when a serpent’s head pokes out and hisses from under a barely raised wing do they quickly don their cover and make their way out, quietly snickering the whole way.

“Ladies first, ma,” he insists, bonking his cheek against her shoulder to get her moving.

“You sure, colt?” she teases. “Ya seem a tad eager.”

“I can count on one hoof how many ponies truly know me that aren’t my parents, mom. Now either ya git or I’m gonna tie a string around ya and float ya out like a balloon.” Rump parked on the floor, he crosses his forelegs over his chest and leans forward, doing a poor job at intimidating the much larger mare. “Which is it gonna be?”

She snorts and shakes her head, dismissing the colt’s empty threat. “Yer lucky I ain’t carryin ya out by yer scruff, brat,” she grumbles, climbing out the carriage and giving him a playful swat with her tail.

Cure climbs down, giving a respectful nod to his guards as he passes by and catches up with the officers just as they come to a stop to offer a salute to the princess. She returns it with a nod, shifting her gaze to Cure and smiling broadly. “I welcome you to Canterlot Castle, Prince Serpentus and…” she pauses, inclining her head and humming in consideration.

“Minerva should work,” Cure suggests. The suggestion gets a raised brow, prompting him to explain, “A name associated with commerce. I figure that’ll be appropriate given her talent.”

Celestia regards Amethyst for a moment who shrugs and bobs her head in acceptance. “Lady Minerva, then. I had castle servants prepare your room and draw you a hot bath so that you might take some time to recover from your journey. If you would like, we could have lunch together, then retire to discuss the plans for the coming week.”

“Sounds great ta me, yer majesty,” the mare quickly agrees, lightly bowing her head in thanks.

“Me too, boss. Just one thing before we head in. Captain Shield said you were going to have everypony come to the castle for their screenings.” Though phrased like a statement, the colt’s tone conveys the question.

“That is correct. Staff will begin setting up tents near the north gate this afternoon,” she says, turning to look in that direction. “If you were looking to the west then you likely noticed them packed in crates upon your arrival.”

“Perfect! If I could make a small request, I have a crate set up to prepare my worksite.” He looks over his withers and nods towards the carriage laden with his luggage, lighting his horn and teleporting one free from its straps to land just to his right. “There’s no need for them to set up tents with this baby,” he boasts, patting the crate fondly.

“Just have somepony set it in the middle of the clearing and step away. It’ll grow into a treatment room, reception area, waiting lobby, and a refreshment stand all on its own. It’s something I was going to take with me to Filly, but that one won’t need all the bells and whistles.”

She gives the box an astonished look. “That sounds simply marvelous! I cannot wait to see how it works! I do have one small concern, given the nature of your creations. I presume it will not leave the area depleted afterwards, correct?”

He shoots her a pout, whining, “C’mon boss, you know me better than that.”

She shrugs and nods in acceptance. “Very well. I had to ask. The groundsponies would be exceedingly unhappy with me if I were to simply assume and left a patch of the grounds barren as a result.” She gains a smirk and adds, “Of course, I would simply point them in your direction and wish you good luck. I am uncertain whether the trip to Baltimare is long enough for tempers to cool prior to their arrival, but perhaps you would survive their wrath.”

“Gee… thanks, princess.”

“Doubt they’d do worse than he does to himself,” Cpt. Shield grumbles too loudly to not be heard.

The princess casts a curious look between the two, the younger averting his gaze and coughing into the crook of his fetlock. The princess takes in his abashed demeanor and, in her typical patient motherly tone, asks, “What did you do?”

“Nothing!” he too quickly replies. Between Amethyst’s quiet chuckling and the two officers’ side-eyed stares he somehow fails to sell the deception.

The princess gives him a wounded look. “You promised you would never lie to me.”

“But I really didn’t do anything! Sorta. Mostly. I just reassured the captain she has no reason to worry for my safety. That’s all,” he innocently insists.

“By twisting his own head around like an owl,” Cpt. Shield adds.

Lt. Spear shudders, quietly bemoaning, “Ugh, the sound alone…”

“Buncha tattletails. That’s what y’all are,” he huffs.

Celestia rubs at her brow with her pastern, shaking her head in disappointment. “Please refrain from further traumatizing my staff, if you could.”

“I’ll do my best, boss!”

“I would appreciate that. Now,” she looks at the boxes with some alarm, “which of those has the bug samples you wished to be tested.”

“That would be this one right here,” he indicates, teleporting another right in front of himself. “You gotta see these, boss!” he insists, reaching for the latch on the front of the box, “I bet you’ve never seen a mosquito this big before!”

Both officers quickly take a few steps away. A golden aura surrounds the case, clamping it shut despite the colt’s efforts. “Do not even think of opening that here!” she breathily commands. A quick glance around reveals that several of the patrolling squads stopped to glance in their direction. The mare plasters on a fake smile, waving them on while still firmly holding the box shut.

“No fun. Don’t worry, boss, I was just teasin ya. There’s no giant mosquitos in there waiting to leap out and lay a buncha larvae in yer wings or anything,” he assures her, waving a hoof dismissively. “They’re all dormant anyhow. The box is keepin ‘em all alive and fed and whatnot and there’s instructions in there on what you have to do to wake ‘em up and designate a target for them to go after. Even if I pulled one out it would just kinda sit there for now.”

She breathes out a sigh of relief. “That is good to hear. I will have somepony deliver this for testing, then when the opportunity presents itself we can discuss your other product ideas.”

“Sounds great, princess. I’d love to have a sit-down with somepony to go over all of them.”

“I am sure we can arrange that,” she agrees. “For now, go on,” she says, tilting her head to the entrance. “Rest, recuperate, and we will talk more about the week after lunch. A servant will be by shortly beforehoof to escort you to the dining room.”

“Sounds good princess,” he agrees. “There’s just one last thing,” he insists, hopping closer and sitting on his rump. He spreads his wings and forelegs wide and looks up at the princess with big, watery eyes and a quivering bottom lip.

A laugh erupts from the mare at the pouty display. Still shaking with mirth, she lays down on her barrel and returns the warm greeting, pulling the colt against her chest with a foreleg. “You need not make yourself look so pathetic for a hug,” she lightly chides.

“No, but it doesn’t hurt ta be sure,” he insists, nuzzling against the side of her neck. He leans heavily into the embrace and softly murmurs, “It’s good to see you again, Celestia. In the flesh, that is.”

“And it is good to see you, Cure. I am relieved to see you made the trip with no adversity this time.”

The colt scoffs and nods against her. “Lucky for them,” he grumbles.

“Of that I have little doubt,” she earnestly agrees, separating from the young alicorn. “Go on, now. Get cleaned up and we will talk more later.”

Even though Cure insisted he didn’t feel like he was tired, Amethyst still convinced him to lay down after a warm, calming bath. Having such a convenient alibi was too good to pass up, so after putting his body in a state of apparent sleep he instead focused on the pegasus body he had fly down to the base of the mountain.

Though there is some shrubbery on the mountain’s south side, much of it is bare rock with insufficient soil to support large amounts of vegetation. That wouldn’t be a significant issue if Cure were not attempting to remain undetected, but he’s fairly certain somepony would raise a fuss if the mountainside were to suddenly and inexplicably erupt with life. He isn’t confident he could convince anypony that his presence alone caused such circumstances, and a magical signature scan would certainly indicate he has a more direct hoof in its spread.

It is oddly prophetic, he considers, that his mother accused him of being more like a plague than a pony. The way he spreads through his plant is almost exactly how a virus would take over a host. In order for a separate entity to become more of himself he has to “consume” it. While eating something in the traditional manner works, so does subsuming it from the inside out.

Wary of intruding into the Everfree proper, Cure limits the spread to the area just south of the mountain. He figures as long as he doesn’t venture beyond the train tracks running from Ponyville to Detrot then he shouldn’t, hopefully, have anypony - or anydeer - show up demanding to know what is being done to the forest.

He makes a mental note to ensure that, before he leaves, he converts any consumed plant’s cells back from the enhanced alicorn variant he is using to the standard found in the plants as appropriate and sever any underground connections he is currently using to spread surreptitiously.

It would not do well to accidentally create some kind of biological Tantabus, after all, and Celestia would probably be a little disappointed in him if a gigantic plant monster were to climb up the mountain and start eating her ponies.

Lunch was a simple affair; Celestia, Amethyst, and Cure enjoyed a quiet meal of soup, salad, and a buttery vegetable pasta. Conversation was kept light. Amethyst beamed about the foals and talked about the properties the two of them had found around town. Celestia excitedly went on and on about the preparations for the upcoming school year. Cure was all too happy to talk about all of the patients he’d helped over the past couple months; the stories about foals, in particular, bringing a smile to the eldritch mare’s muzzle.

The three retired to an elegant study after lunch. Cure, not wanting to make his mom feel like a third wheel, quickly joins the disguised mare, laying snuggled between her forelegs. The room is a little unusual compared to most of the ones he’s seen the castle thus far. Rather than the typical bright, well lit rooms with light decor, this one is far darker than he’s come to expect.

The flooring is a soft, smooth, heavy material with a dark golden and red alternating diamond pattern that, despite likely being older than any non-alicorn pony in existence, still shows absolutely no signs of wear. Bookshelves line the walls filled mostly with, from what Cure can gather from the few marked spines, law books dating as far back as six hundred years ago.

Some of the shelves only come to, for an adult, chest height, leaving a gap along the wall filled with portraits of ponies whose names Cure doesn’t recognize, most of them having a formal title such as Lady or Countess. Each one must have been important to the princess or the nation, as they are perfectly preserved despite their likely age. Each display is lit with soft yellow lighting, their frames hoof or horn carved meticulously in ornate patterns.

The sofas, like the shelves, are crafted from a dark mahogany and have a thick, deep red cushioning. Even the throw pillows are luxurious; each one is made of a golden silk with long, smooth ruffling around the edges that tickles the colt’s cheek.

The three get comfortable and enjoy a few moments’ peace while their food settles before they begin; the more subdued ambiance of the room making Cure want to curl up and take a nap for real. Eventually the silence is ended by the elder; Celestia, after flopping half on her right side, casually mentions, “I understand you hired a mercenary to provide additional security on the way here.”

“Well, given what happened last time I traveled here by train, could you really blame me if I did?”

“Not at all. I do not feel as if it were necessary, exactly, but I certainly do not fault you being overcautious. I am, however, curious where this mystery being may be at present. Based on his description I would expect him to have difficulty blending in.”

“Ah, but looks can be deceiving, princess,” he teasingly retorts. “I am, after all, an expert when it comes to camouflage. Being a bipedal, digitigrade creature, it would be relatively simple for me to disguise him as a minotaur, for example.”

“And is that what you did?”

“No. Why? Do you really want to meet him or something?”

“I would, if for no other reason than to convey my thanks for his service.”

“I’ll make sure to introduce you before we head home if you would like. I figured the xenophobic nobles would get their hackles up seeing their prince being escorted by a non-pony creature, so he teleported off the train once we arrived in Canterlot.”

“I see. You do not know where he is at present?”

“At the very least he’s not within range of Sending, so logic dictates he’s off having fun somewhere.”

The princess stares between Cure and his mother for a moment before seeming to accept his answer. In a sickeningly sweet tone she continues, “Regardless, if he could spare a moment before your departure, I would like to see this Warrior. I had, upon first hearing his moniker, expected to hear a similar description to the ‘armor’ you used during the minotaur attack. Sergeants Bulwark, Haze, and Song both described a very different being; one who was very clearly not you, as he arrived prior to your arrival at the Baltimare Station after departing from Base Carol.

“While there are, no doubt, some races out there I have never encountered, and there are possibly some I have never even heard of, I am shocked to find that not only did you encounter one, you convinced him to work for you. Even more amazing, he somehow convinced you to trust him with your mother’s safety.” The mare punctuates her analysis with a raised brow and an expectant look.

His mom’s continued laughter doesn’t exactly help.

Cure makes a series of ugly, disappointed looks, finally giving in with a whine. “Fiiine!” the colt grumpily huffs. “Can’t have any good secrets around y’all.” The colt raises his right wing slightly and levitates a matched pair of rings out from under it.

Celestia scoots to the edge of the couch and accepts them in her magic, bringing them closer and looking intently at the etchings. “A… portal?”

“Yep. Observe. Without freaking out, preferably, please.” He levitates another set out from under his wing, pouring power in to activate them. A tendril snakes out next, poking through the one ring to emerge out the other. The tendril protruding through the portal blooms, quickly engulfing the remote ring in a sphere of biomass.

Celestia’s eyes go wide as a second, miniature Cure takes shape. The miniature flaps its wings, flying itself over to the princess’s couch, growing in size the entire time. It climbs between the princess’s forelegs and flops on its right side, resting its head just above her knee.

The mare looks back and forth several times, unsure at first how to react, all the while the duplicate continues to grow in size.

“And this,” she looks down at the clone, “is merely an extension of yourself?”

“Yep. No evil clone, no separate psyche, no nothing else you may imagine.”

The clone rolls on its back to look at the princess, retracting its horn in the process and says, “Yeah, boss. I’m only a tiny bit evil. Like,” it holds its hooves millimeters apart, “about that evil. Tops. Heck, I’m probably less evil than him,” he insists, jerking his head towards the other pair.

“That… is amazing, Cure!” she excitedly beams, though she, disappointingly, does not shower either original or clone in the usual affection. She passes the unactivated rings back to Cure who quickly stows them away while reeling the active one back under his wing. “And I am relieved to see that you were wise enough to bind them. Without such measures it could have been disastrous should somepony with ill intent gain access to one.”

The colt cocks a brow, tilting his head in confusion. “I did what now?”

Celestia regards him for a moment, similar bewilderment to his own flashing across her face. Realization dawns and she begins giggling, the melodic laughter warming his heart despite the knowledge she’s likely laughing at him. “You… you did not even do so intentionally, did you?”

“Uhhh… of course,” he unconvincingly insists. He pats Amethyst on the foreleg and requests, “But just so my mom is on the same page, maybe explain it like we’re a couple layponies.”

“Smooth, colt,” the mare in question chuffs. “Totally bought it.”

Celestia sighs fondly, shaking her head in disbelief. “Tell me, Cure Wave, exactly how did you create these?”

“Umm, the way the book we read together said to? I cut the rings, buffed ‘em smooth, laid them on a platform with the ritual circle etched in, filled the channels with… oh.”

“Blood?” she knowingly asks, her eyes all but shouting her amusement.

“Well the book suggested crystal infused ink, but I figured alicorn blood with dust mixed in oughta work as a good substitute.”

“Indeed it would, clearly. Just know that should you desire to create objects for others to use, that ink will likely be the better choice.”

“Sure thing boss. So… only me or any foals I have would be able to use these, huh?”

“Likely, yes,” she nods. “Also, I am unsure whether that would apply to foals with a typical dam, given that they will originate from an earth pony, in a way.”

“Ah. Oh well, I think they’re only really useful for me anyhow.”

“Likely so,” she agrees. “Presumably, then, your bodyguard was such a creation?”

“He was. Is. Whatever. Puppeting a body like that comes with some drawbacks, unfortunately. I still only have one brain -”

“Debatable,” his mom interjects.

Not pausing to acknowledge her jab, he continues, “- so doing two things at once is ridiculously difficult. The assembly of the building outside, for example, slowed down some while I was putting him,” he motions with his muzzle to the clone, “together.”

“Yeah, so get down here and gimme alicorn snuggles ta make up for it,” the now almost full-sized clone insists, scooting further from the mare’s chest and holding its forelegs open in invitation. Celestia all too happily obeys and is soon rewarded with a set of hands deftly massaging at the base of her ears. “Yesss,” he teases, “obedient princesses get ear scroofles. Who’s the good girl? Who’s the pretty princess?”

“I know this is not the real you,” she mildly says, casting a warning gaze to the original colt, “I will not hesitate to exact a toll for such insolence.” The clone freezes in place. “I did not say to stop!” she quickly adds, humming contently when the petting resumes.

“I knew a mare of such wisdom would see the benefit to my creation,” he proudly declares. “And that’s not all. In fact, how would you like an after-lunch snack?”

“I suppose I could be convinced to partake, depending on what you have in mind,” she declares with faux hesitance.

The colt’s horn glows with power as he focuses on the body he diverted at the start of the conversation. As soon as it became apparent that Celestia had connected the dots he had sent his pegasus on an errand to, hopefully, bribe away any incoming repercussions.

A white box flashes into existence, hovering in the air between the two couches, caught in his aura. He turns it to face the elder who, reluctantly, sits up to pull away from the clone’s ministrations. The lid lifts to present a fragrant strawberry cake to the mare whose eyes sparkle in delight.

“Fantastic!” she cheers, her wings dancing against her sides in glee. Her horn ignites for a split second, teleporting a service tray laden with cutlery and plates from somewhere. She fires off another spell just as quickly, the feel of a Sending going out familiar to the colt. Just like his had in the carriage, her tail betrays her excitement as she cuts up the cake.

Cure struggles to hold back a laugh when she cuts it into quarters, the portions absolutely ridiculous even taking into account ponies’ typically absurd appetites. Amethyst accepts hers with thanks, nudging Cure to move so she can dig in. The young alicorn reluctantly gives up his spot, sitting beside his mom and accepting a piece that’s slightly larger than his entire face.

“I see how it is,” the clone huffs, folding his forelegs across his chest. “Everypony else gets a treat and what do I get? Jack squat! Friggin clonists, that’s what y’all are!” A look of mortification flashes across the princess’s face as she begins to put the last piece on a plate. “No, no!” the clone calls out, waving his hands for her to stop. “I’m just messin with ya, Tia. This thing,” he pats his chest, “doesn’t even have a GI tract built in it.”

She breathes out a sigh of relief, setting the piece back into the box for later. Whether that relief is from knowing she’ll get to finish the cake or that she didn’t inadvertently offend anypony is unclear, but Cure suspects it’s the former every bit as much as the latter.

Celestia’s slice is, unsurprisingly, gone well before the other two can finish theirs. While eyeing the last piece speculatively, the castle servant’s knock at the door diverts her attention. The three take their time to enjoy the delivered refreshments, Amethyst in particular seeming to relish the much higher quality coffee than what she was subjected to on the train.

“Go ahead and send it to your room, boss,” Cure suggests, smirking at the ancient alicorn’s look of relief. “We all know you’ll give it a good home later. Maybe save it for after dinner.”

“But… dinner should already have a dessert planned,” she weakly protests.

“Who said ya only get one dessert?” Amethyst asks. “Last I checked, yer in charge ‘round here anyhow.”

Resolve bolstered, Celestia nods in acknowledgement. “I suppose if you insist. Thank you for the lovely cake, Cure.” Her horn glows briefly again, disappearing the cake off to some, no doubt, secure location for later consumption. “Now, while we do not have overly much to discuss,” she pauses to lay her head back down on the clone, who dutifully begins petting as soon as she is within reach, “you do need to be aware of the schedule.”

“Really?” Amethyst laughs. “Yer completely fine with him havin a double runnin around the city?”

“Yes?” the mare questioningly affirms. “I have no cause for concern. In fact, if anything, I am somewhat envious of that ability. Presumably you have begun to take advantage of this ability to further obfuscate your identity?”

“I have,” he confirms, swallowing down the last bite of cake before levitating both his and his mom’s Cleaned plates to the service tray. He eyes the mug of coffee sat between her forelegs with a sliver of envy and, reluctantly, snuggles against her side instead, resting his chin on her right foreleg knee. “While I’ve been working at the hospital I’ve also had a second ‘me’ hanging out with mom and my dam. I’ve only had the rings the last few days, so it’s not like a lot of the townsponies have had a chance to see my double walking around while I’m working.”

She nods in approval, saying, “And neither have the reports from my agents had time to arrive yet.”

“Right. The neat thing is that I’m free to alter the second body much more than I can my own. I don’t have to worry about messing up hormones or doing anything dumb with a brain or anything like that, so the clone can be anything as long as it’s slightly larger than the rings themselves.”

“I… see. That does open up a number of possibilities.”

“Yep. For example, I had a bird flying a few kilometers ahead of the train overnight. Since it’s receiving all its nourishment from me rather than its own body it is more or less inexhaustible. I knew about the reception at the train station before we got halfway up the mountain because of it. Thanks for that, by the way. The band?” He brings a hoof to his muzzle and blows a chef’s kiss, “Magnifique, ma bella jument!” he declares, pausing the clone’s scritching to hug her head.

Celestia giggles, fanning herself with a hoof. “Such a charmer. Je ne savais pas que tu parlais prançais,” she easily responds.

“Yeaaaah… I don’t speak Prench, exactly,” he admits. “I could probably understand it, but committing the words to memory doesn’t exactly convey fluency, unfortunately.”

“A shame, and something perhaps for you to work on. Back to the topic at hoof, though,” she pauses, sighing in contentment when the clone switches from massaging her ears to running its fingers through her mane, lightly scratching with dulled nails against her scalp. “Maker above, I could get used to this. Back on topic,” she forcefully begins, “your normal patients from other cities have already started arriving. Typically during the competition the Guard rents several hotels in Canterlot as well as in Forest Heights and Brightwood. Since you are here a week early, a number of the rooms closest to the castle have been set aside for your patients’ use.”

“Oh, neat. As nice as Baltimare is, I’m betting they’re happy to have a free day in the capital instead.”

“Indeed. Though some are departing immediately after you treat them, the RHA, in partnership with the Canterlot Chamber of Commerce, has agreed to cover the bill should any desire to remain an extra night.”

“That was darn nice of them. I’m guessing they’re hoping to promote a little tourism in the future.”

“Exactly. Over the past few weeks we have given the officers you will be seeing an opportunity to book slots with you over the coming days, staggering them as needed and as coverage during travel allows. Between my generals, the colonels in command of regional forts, the lieutenant colonels and majors that report to them, and other crucial, but less public officers, there are approximately two hundred and fifty ponies and their families that I would like you to see.”

The colt winces and turns away. “Oof… that’s a lot in, essentially, three and a half days of work if you discount the out-of-towners.”

“It is,” she agrees, “which is why, despite how much I would like to have you see all of them, I have, for now, limited slots to only the highest placed amongst them. As much as a lieutenant colonel or major could wreak havoc if they were not who they claim to be, since many of them are directly subordinate to somepony you will be scanning, I have instructed coordinators to defer those ponies - and other creatures - to a later date. That brings the number down to a much more bearable seventy-four patients and their families.”

“Still a lot if they have big families, but doable assuming they don’t all have a bunch of stuff wrong with them.”

“Most of the ponies in such positions are older and will not have many foals to bring along. Some have requested an exception due to an older foal having some sort of condition they would like you to remedy. Those have been granted, of course.”

“Good. Have you considered coming up with a schedule for the future to see the rest?”

“It was proposed, but given that you will be living here full-time in approximately a year, I did not feel it urgent enough to further burden you. Given your new ability,” she nods into the clone’s chest, “if Cure Wave is attending school then, perhaps, Prince Serpentus can be available during the week to see patients when lessons allow.”

“That sounds like a plan, boss. Any thoughts, momma?”

Amethyst shrugs and shakes her head no. “Nah, not really. So long as yer still able ta fly home on the weekend ta visit with us and yer dam, especially, I can’t say I’m spottin any flaws.”

“Cool. We had already talked about me seeing other guards members during my stay, so this’ll work out great.”

“Excellent,” Celestia quietly cheers. “We will hold off making arrangements for now. Perhaps we will revisit the topic come next summer when the date approaches. I would, at the very least, like to give you a few weeks into the school year to acclimate before I ask that you begin seeing ponies.”

“Cool. So… when are we having our duel?”

Amethyst snorts out a laugh and Celestia lazily rolls her head to her left, eyeing the colt like he’s an absolute moron. “You cannot be serious.”

“Why not?”

Amethyst bonks him on the head with her hoof. “She’d slap ya all tha way back ta Baltimare without tryin, ya idjit.”

He shoots a quick glare at his mom before turning back, “I don’t think she would do quite as well as y’all think she would. Do ya wanna hear what I think?” he leadingly inquires.

“I simply cannot wait to hear,” Celestia replies, voice dripping with sarcasm.

“I think you’ve gotten rusty.”

She blasts a snort out her snout. “A rusty pike still pierces a flimsy shield, little one.”

“Oooooo, she’s got ya there, colt!” his mom heckles.

“Guess that depends on whether there’s still some steel under that rust or if it’s all wasted away.”

She turns to give him a scathing look. “I assure you, Cure Wave; there is steel enough below any imagined rust to pierce any defense. You will not find me such an easy opponent as the foals and bats you entertain every Saturday morning.”

“Oh yeah?” he asks, a single brow cocked high on his brow.

“Definitely,” she insists with a firm nod.

Cure pauses to idly look at his hoof, inspecting the wall for any minor imperfections. “So… how’d ya like the cake?” he asks, smiling broadly enough to reveal two elongated fangs dripping green ichor into his mouth.

The mare opens her mouth to respond before the words even register. Mouth hanging slightly open, a million questions about what he could have done to it flash through her mind. “You. Would. Not. DARE to defile CAKE!” she growls, the air around her heating rapidly.

The colt scoffs and shakes his head no. “Of course not, Tia.” More softly he adds, “I would never do anything like that to you. I promise. Still… got ya thinkin, didn’t it?”

The mare snorts like an angry bull, shaking her head in disbelief. “I cannot believe you would even jest about such a thing.”

“Oh don’t get me wrong, boss. I may not do something like that to you normally, but you set hoof into a ring with me and it is on.”

“You truly believe you would have a chance against me,” she says in astonishment. “You do know that even the Dragon Lord found himself lacking, and that was nearly a millennium ago.”

“I would wreck Torch’s whole week in an instant, boss. You and the Shadow are the only two beings on this planet I’m even the slightest bit worried about for now.”

“Oh? What of Sombra, my sister, or Chrysalis?” she lightly mocks.

“Emphasis on the ‘for now,’ boss. Sombra and the Nightmare won’t be a problem for ninety years, and Chrysalis, despite potentially being a problem, would probably do something pridefully dumb that would end up screwing her over. Besides, by the time I’m an adult she’ll be a non-issue.”

“Mmm… I suppose, assuming your knowledge is accurate. Regardless, I will not be taking you up on your offer to put you in your place.”

“Ba-gawk.”

“What. Was. That?!”

Cure folds his forelegs in tight to his chest, stands on his hind legs, and starts pecking at the surface of the couch, using his wings to counter his weight. “Bok bok bok BA-GAWK!” Amethyst rolls away laughing as the colt does a rather impressive chicken impression.

“I see I need to have a word with your dam,” she growls. “Clearly she has not raised you to be more respectful to your elders.”

“Says the mare getting ear scritches and a scalp massage.”

She blows out a hard sigh, shaking her head. “If you truly insist then perhaps later this week I will be able to find a few minutes to properly educate you.”

“Really?”

“Do not sound so surprised, little foal. I do not see it as an opportunity to soothe some bruised ego, but as a demonstration on how dangerous it is to underestimate opponents such as Chrysalis. I do not believe you properly grasp the advantages that age and experience convey.”

“Cool. We should probably do it somewhere that nopony can see us. Don’t want all the guards losin faith in their indomitable leader.” Another scoff sounds out. “Do you have a private room here?”

The alicorn scoffs and rolls her eyes. “I do not have a fighting ring inside the Royal Castle, Cure. There are plenty of rooms for such activities in the guardhouse just outside. I will have a five minute slot set aside one evening this week.”

“Five minutes, huh? Well at least you know your limit.”

“Whoop his ass, princess. The colt needs a right-proper ego checkin.”

“Oh do not worry about a thing, Lady Amethyst. I will be sure to teach him a very thorough lesson.”

“Ooo. Sounds scary. I’ll be sure to pencil in some ‘shaking in terror’ time later this evening. By the way, Blueblood and his daughters are here.”

Celestia blinks at the non sequitur. “Oh! You detected them via the piece of luggage growing the tents?”

“No, I still have my bird flying around. They walked in the castle about a minute ago, so I probably need to get rid of him,” he nods towards the clone, “before they get here. Senior very loudly asked the guards where ‘Young Prince Serpentus’ might be located before he even made it to the door.”

Celestia sighs aggrievedly but does, reluctantly, rise up off the clone. “Fantastic. And, of course, I failed to request that we not be interrupted, so -” a knock interrupts her sentence. The clone gives a quick wave goodbye before disappearing in a flash of light, earning a quick pout from the mare. She schools her features and sighs a second time in only a few seconds, turning to look at the door.

“Brace yerself, ma. May wanna turn yer ear sensitivity down a notch.”

“Seriously?”

“Yes,” is the simultaneous response from both alicorns.

Warning presumably heeded, Celestia calls out towards the door, “Enter.”

The word no more than exits her muzzle before the door is flung open, the stallion’s voice flooding in in an instant mid-complaint. “- supposed to know which sitting room is in use when there are dozens of them in the castle?! Is everypony truly so busy that not a soul can be spared to provide escort?! No, no, don’t bother apologizing,” he tells some unseeable castle servant further down the hall. Misty Twilight and Azure Tiara primly prance through the door as he continues, “your services are no longer necessary. Thank you and good day.” Dismissal delivered, he pulls the door shut and blows out a truly exhausted sigh, likely worn from the burden of dealing with commoners.

The girls don’t wait for him to finish and rush towards the princess, hopping on the couch to join her with twin excited greetings of “Auntie Celestia!” Both are wrapped in wings and forelegs as soon as they climb up, the ancient mare lighting up at seeing her adoptive nieces. “Tiara, Twilight! How wonderful to see you!” She spares a look to the approaching stallion, calling, “Nephew, how fare you on this beautiful Sunday afternoon?”

“Wonderful, Auntie!” he responds, trotting up to accept a nuzzle from her before turning to Cure and his mother. “And warm greetings to you, as well, young Serpentus, my lady,” he smoothly greets, reaching out to his mother for her hoof.

“Heya, Blueblood!”

“Howdy, yer highness,” she greets back, reaching back out for a hoofbump.

“No, no! Blueblood in private, my dear,” he says, scooping her hoof up and planting a kiss on her pastern. “How should I address your esteemed self?”

His mom blinks a couple times in surprise at the formality, recovering to stutter out, “We’re goin with Minerva for now.”

“Lady Minerva, then,” he agrees with a brilliant smile. He gives Cure a shallow bow and explains, “When my sweetlings heard of the festivities upon your arrival they insisted they be allowed to come greet you in pony. Sadly, Junior and my dearest are unavailable at the moment; I do hope you accept their deepest regrets for their unavailability.”

“He’s hanging out with his fillyfriend!” Misty faux whispers, earning a shoulder bump from her older sister.

Cure hops down off the couch, greeting Blueblood with a hoofbump and wrapping each filly in a wing hug. “No big deal. I’ll be here a couple weeks, after all, so I’m sure we’ll have a chance to get together.”

“You certainly will!” Blueblood declares. “After all, I fully intend to make good on my promise!”

“Oh, right! Some… uhh.. Chateau something?”

“La Chaumiere de Velours,” the stallion corrects.

“Right. Velvet Cottage. Got it. Sounds awesome.”

Blueblood melodramatically gushes, holding a hoof to his chest, “The experience is absolutely to die for! I simply cannot wait to share it with you.” He pauses to regard the other two mares. “Of course, all are welcome to join. Auntie, Chef Garnish would be positively ecstatic if you could attend this coming Friday, I am quite certain of it.”

“Very well, nephew, but I do have plans that evening, so please make the reservations for no later than six o’clock.”

“Plans?” he curiously echoes. “Whatever might you be getting up to, auntie?” He leans closer, giddily inquiring, “Perhaps some lucky stallion is seeking the most desired hoof in all the world? It has been entirely too long if that is the case.”

Celestia inclines her head and gives a disdainful sniff. “Mine plans are my own, dear nephew. I shall thank you not to pry.”

A mischievous smirk crosses the stallion’s muzzle. “Very well, very well, I shan’t tease you further.” He reaches down and nuzzles his youngest’s mane with his snout. “I believe Misty had a request for our dear prince, should he be willing to hear her out.”

The white filly shoots her sire a small pout before turning back to Cure, shuffling nervously on her hooves. “If you’re not too busy, Tiara and I were hoping you could join us this coming Saturday morning.”

Cure glances between their sire and the elder alicorn, looking for a hint of what he might be agreeing to. “I… don’t think I have any plans for Saturday yet. Why? What’s going on?”

The filly positively beams at the news, nearly vibrating on her hooves. Her sister lights up as well, even if more subdued than the younger. “Wonderful!” she excitedly cheers, bouncing lightly in place. “I’ve told everypony at dance class how marvelous you were.” Cure feels his heart sink as she continues, “The silly fools insisted that a former earth pony, alicorn or not, couldn’t poss-”

“MISTY!” Tiara shouts, wrapping her forelegs around her sister’s head to clamp her muzzle shut. “You shouldn’t have told him that!” she hisses, releasing her hold.

Both Celestia and Blueblood school their features entirely too late for their cringes to escape Cure’s notice.

“What?” Twilight defends, “It’s not my fault they believe pegasi to be the superior dancers!”

“Eh, from a purely technical standpoint, I could see it,” Cure grants, “what with their weight altering abilities, that would probably make them appear more graceful. I’m not super into dancing, but if you’d like, I could come and watch a class or maybe join in for something, assuming I don’t have anything urgent come up in the meantime.”

Only his honed reaction speeds from guard training allow the colt to not be bowled over when the younger filly launches herself at him in a hug.

Author's Note

So I saw a few comments where folks were hoping something happened. I considered it, but, in the end (obviously), chose to go with the route I figure is much more realistic.

There's a dozen reasons why making the attempt would be a terrible, terrible idea, first and foremost being that attempting to assassinate foreign royalty is absolutely an act of war. Hell, we saw exactly that happen about a hundred and ten years ago, didn't we? Doing so and getting caught - as the squads did last time - would likely result in literally every ally (assuming you have any) turning their back on you if not outright joining the other side.

It would also make it completely acceptable to kill off whatever dynasty is in charge of said nation, something that even total war usually stops short of doing. Would Celestia have some zebra's foals murdered? No. Would they ever have the opportunity to be in charge of anything again? Hell no, they wouldn't.

Not only would that be a direct attack against the nation, but it would also be an indirect attack against the princess herself. After all, she's famously failed to produce a foal for over a millennium. Now there's a male of her species, and absolutely everyone fully expects her to start pumping out foals as soon as he's old enough. And I'd bet a pretty penny that a lot of folks would be very, very lenient with what they consider "old enough." Anywho - depriving her of that would absolutely get someone a burninating.

So yeah, long story short, there's a whole bunch of reasons why trying to take out the colt is a horrible idea, and I will always do my best to avoid having a "stupid evil" antagonist.

So I could use a little feedback here on this first part. Obviously, Cure and Amethyst were the two mares that bought the tickets for a room close to the front of the train. Seeing as how he was in the body of a mare, I used female pronouns throughout that first part. One, because, again - Mare, but also because I personally found it amusing (as did Amy). Should I switch all of those out for male pronouns or just leave it as is? There's a good chance that Cure will do something similar in the future, so this won't be the only time this comes up.

We have a few ponies that have not really ever been mentioned before. That's mainly because I never went over everyone in the "other" group of guards that went with Cure to the gym along with Sgt. Haze. There was, of course, Sabot (an earth pony) but he left the guard sometime over the summer. Thunder Dance (Drift's dam) went with him also. Tailwind even commented on that once - I think it was when Cure went there for dinner, but I'm not 100% sure that's right. That still leaves 3 other ponies that are permanent, full time guards that we didn't get introduced to. Ginger Fizz and Luring Snare are two of them. The former is an earth pony mare that took over Sabot's position and the latter was never mentioned before the last chapter. Marshy Reed is the pegasus that Bolt warned off some chapters back. Descriptions of the five in Bulwark's team were back in the chapter titled "Cooper Team."

Haze’s team:

Private Marshy Reed
- Pegasus mare
- Light, pastel green coat, darker green mane
Corporal Luring Snare
- Unicorn mare
- Lilac coat, bright yellow mane
Private Ginger Fizz
- Earth pony mare
- Dull golden coat, bright green mane

Small disclaimer - I don't speak a lick of French (or Prench, for that matter). I did the whole 'run the translation back and forth a few times' trick and it seemed to accept it, so good enough for me.

I'm sure someone won't "get it," but the reason why Cure has guards, or at least what he's implying to Cpt. Shield is the reason, is for appearance's sake. He's a prince, so he should have guards. He's flat out telling her he doesn't really need them to keep himself safe.

So, the chapter is coming in far, far, FAR later than I had wanted. I'd put a story comment up this morning saying it would be late. I got absolutely no time in this weekend thanks to friends and family visiting. Such things happen, I suppose.

I may take next week off so I don't have this happen again. We'll see. Either way I'll at least drop in to put a comment up if I'm going to take the week off.

As always, thanks for reading, rating, and commenting especially. Hopefully y'all weren't too disappointed, but what can I say? It's a little early for Cure to be going to war.

Enjoy!

Chapter 103: Chancellery

Monday, August 31st, 909 AB

Despite being somewhat tired from staying awake throughout the night on the train, Cure knew he couldn’t afford to sleep. Instead, he toiled the hours away spreading his influence both at the base of the mountain and within the walls of the Royal Castle’s perimeter.

He swears that next time he has to do something like this he’s going to get at least one larger ring to facilitate faster mass transfer. Even with five rings moving mass it took a good portion of the night just to have enough. It wasn’t until about three in the morning that he allowed himself to drift off, certain that all of his preparations were sufficiently complete.

Unsurprisingly, it feels like he’d barely closed his eyes when a gentle rapping at the door rouses him to wakefulness. He debates whether he should wake his mom or let the mare sleep in for a change. She doesn’t get to very often, so he’s not sure if she may like to indulge when the opportunity presents itself.

On the other hoof, most ponies would kill for the chance to break fast with her majesty, and there’s no reason why she can’t take a nap or ask for a pick-me-up at any point later in the day. Then again, Amethyst isn’t nearly as much of a Celestia fangirl as his dam.

With a mental shrug, Cure extends his horn and pulls the door open as he worms his way out from underneath his mom’s left foreleg. The mare had taken to being the big spoon at some point in the night, and, like any pony, latched onto the nearest warm body to pull it closer.

Glissando Slide pokes her head into the darkened room, the tip of her horn illuminating the ceiling in a soft blue light. “Good morning, your highness,” she calls out in a whisper. “Will Lady Minerva be joining yourself and her majesty for breakfast?”

“I’m thinking she may be a tad miffed if I didn’t wake her up. Besides, nothing is stoppin her from coming right back to bed afterwards if she’s still tired. Go ahead,” he waves to the bathroom, “I’ll wake her up, Mrs. Sandy. Please get the water started and we’ll be right there.”

The mare departs with a nod, bathing the room in much brighter lights from the open bathroom door. Cure sits on his rump in the crook of Amethyst’s neck and leans over, giving the mare’s ears a few grooming licks. “Time to wake up, momma,” he gently calls, gumming from her ear’s base all the way to the tip.

He earns a flurry of slaps on his muzzle for his efforts, but the mare does start to groan and stretch. Forelegs extend out, nearly pushing him off the bed without a care as her back arches and her hind legs stretch all the way back, wobbling slightly in the air at full extension. A muzzle splitting yawn precedes a blast of hot, stinky morning breath, soon followed by a sneeze that might as well have been a pre-shower. Like a puppet with its strings cut, the mare goes completely limp on the bed, her eyes squinted almost shut from the intrusive light.

Cure hesitantly peeks out from behind his raised wing shield to take in the damage. “Didjya get it all, ma?” he asks in an accusatory tone.

“Mhmm… sorry, colt,” she insincerely apologizes, pawing at her snout with her left hoof. “Think I got one’a yer feathers up in there.”

“No. You definitely didn’t,” he huffs. “I woulda noticed it bein blasted at me at a thousand kph. Now c’mon, the… uhh… maid, I guess?” he ventures, looking in the direction of the bathroom. Somehow calling them servants seems demeaning, even if that’s the term Celestia uses. Maid doesn’t seem quite as bad, and nothing better immediately comes to mind. “Yeah, maid… anyhow, she’s here to bathe us and get us all purrrdied uuup,” he says, the last two words coming out in a thick southern drawl.

Amethyst rolls to her barrel and looks at the colt like he’s grown a second head, a trick he has considered for Nightmare Night but hasn’t attempted yet. At least, not on his own body. “Bathe us?” she echoes, looking towards the bathroom where the water is now running. “Whatthefuck ya talkin ‘bout, colt?!”

Forehooves raised in placation, he bobs his head, saying “I know, I know… it’s kinda weird, but yeah. She’s gonna scrub you from the tip of yer nose all the way to the end of yer tail, ma, and she’ll get everything - and I do mean everything,” he motions down to his junk, “in between.”

Mouth agape, the mare’s eyes flick back and forth between the colt and the open bathroom door. “Yer serious,” she finally declares.

“One hundred percent. I assume the princess is similarly serviced every day. This is how royalty is treated, ma.”

“That’s just plum ridiculous. She does realize I’ve been scrubbin my own rear just fine fer over twenty years, right?”

“I believe she is operating under that assumption,” he flatly responds. “Now,” he turns to hop down off the bed, beckoning with a waved wing, “come on. I’ll go first. Don’t freak out, okay? Like I said,” he pauses glancing back, “it is her job and, my understanding is, it’s an extremely prestigious position. Try not to make it weird.”

“Me make it weird?!” she quietly scoffs. “I ain’t the one scrubbin strangers under their tails, colt.”

“Why we in such a hurry ta get ta breakfast? Thought tha rumpscrubber said her majesty won’t be there fer another few minutes.”

“Yeah, well, it never hurts to be punctual,” he deflects, continuing on at what, to him, is just barely shy of a canter.

“Yer upta somethin.”

“Madame!” he cries, hopping and spreading his wings to hover sideways while holding his hooves to his chest, “I find the very idea that you would accuse me of some sort of malfeasance insulting! I would never dare bring such shame to my family’s good name!”

“Uh huh,” she blatantly dismisses. “Whatever it is, warn me ta get outta tha way first. Don’t need ta be catchin a stray fireball with yer name on it.”

“You bet, momma,” he easily agrees, his gold-clad hooves clacking as he lands just a few meters short of the door to the royal dining room. A guard’s horn lights up to pull the door open and the two make their way in, unsurprised to find they’ve arrived before the princess.

While his mom takes a seat at the table, Cure makes his way over to the servant’s entrance and disappears. Amethyst watches with mild amusement when the colt comes back a moment later with a copy of the Canterlot Chronicle tucked under his wing. He leaves the paper folded up between her and the princess’s spot, then quickly rounds the table to sit across from her. His rump barely settles on the pillow atop his booster when the doors open to reveal the princess in all her radiant magnificence.

Celestia strolls into the hall and exchanges greetings with the pair on the way to her alicorn-sized cushion at the end of the table to Cure’s right. The instant she takes her place, the server’s door swings open and a light green pegasus mare comes trotting out, a tray of drinks balanced on her back.

Cure lights up his horn, helping the mare pass everything out without having to maneuver the tray down her wing. Cure doesn’t let his mug even touch the table before dumping a bunch of sugar in and taking a long swig. “Thanks, Miss Mint! What’s on the menu today?”

The mare lights up at the question, prancing around Celestia to stand right next to him. She smiles broadly when he leans over to press his side against hers. Her left wing seemingly instinctively wraps around his back to squeeze him in a quick hug, which he happily accepts.

He figures that if pretty ladies want to hug on him it’s his Harmony-given duty to oblige them. “Oats, fresh fruit, some crunchy granola yogurt, aaand we just pulled a yummy cauliflower quiche out of the oven, your highness! We’ll have everything right out for you!” she giddily cheers, bobbing her head in a shallow bow before taking her leave.

Amethyst watches as the door shuts behind the mare before sucking in a lungful of air and blowing out a long, tired sigh. “Gotta get me some’a what she’s havin.” Her eyes flick to the colt opposite her. “And you… is there any mare out there you don’t try ta charm?”

Cure fluffs his wings and runs a hoof through his mane to no real effect. “Not my fault I’m naturally adorable. Besides,” he starts, holding his hoof up as if he’s offering some kind of brilliant insight, “you should always make nice with the ponies that are makin and or bringin ya yer food.”

His mother can’t help but nod in agreement. “Yer not wrong there, I reckon.”

“What is this?” Celestia asks, lifting the newspaper in her aura. She turns the paper around to show the pair the front page.

“Battle Royale! Who will win the Melee on the Mountain?” Cure reads aloud. “Seems pretty cut and dry to me, boss. Looks like somepony leaked our plans to the press. Says here we have almost even odds. Oof… that’s a harsh line right there, though. ‘Age or Beauty to be Decided This Week!’” Cure reaches over and grabs her left hoof, holding it to his chest with both of his. He looks up to meet her eyes and soulfully declares, “I don’t care what some dumb journalist thinks, Tia. You’ll always be beautiful to me.”

“I am immensely flattered,” she deadpans, pulling her hoof away from the nuisance. “Odd that I do not recall any journalists at the Chronicle named Snapped Celery or Sunbutt Stomp.”

“Odd names for a newspony,” he agrees. “You oughta see if you can steal away their photographer. Really got my good side. Then again, I suppose it’d be more of a challenge not to, given all this,” he teases, motioning to himself.

Celestia sighs in exasperation as the colt flexes and poses, moving from position to position to show off his build for the mare. “And you wonder what my staff are having with their breakfast. I fear what may happen should he share whatever it is he got a hold of.”

“I’m bettin whatever it is may outright kill a normal pony, princess.”

“Bah,” he harrumphs, dismissing the grumpy mares with a flick of his hoof. “Y’all are just old and have forgotten how ta have fun.”

“I ain’t forgot how, colt, but there’s a time ‘n a place fer it. A’fore I drank my first mug ain’t it.” Cure pouts at his mom to no avail. The mare blows out a sigh and rubs at her brow, enjoying the silence for a moment. She regards the elder alicorn who has set aside her paper and seems content to silently sip at her tea. “What's yer day lookin like, princess?”

The ancient mare sets her liter-sized mug down and exhales a small sigh. “Rather busy, I am afraid. As with every other Monday, my day will begin with a weekly brief with the chancellery. They, along with the ponies that you will be working with, should be arriving at the castle shortly. I would ask that you spare a moment to meet them, if you could.”

Cure shrugs and bobs his head in acceptance.

“Most of my morning following our meeting will be occupied by day court. Petitioners are seen beginning at nine and court does not adjourn until eleven o’clock. As much as I regret it, I do not believe I will be available to come visit you until I accompany the chancellery for their check-ups shortly thereafter. Expect the Medic Corps to accompany us to relieve the civilian employees.”

“Aww,” the colt whines. “I kinda wanted ta show off my new building to ya this morning. I have some yummy tea blends I bet you’d really like.”

“I am sorry, Cure,” she sincerely apologizes. “Mondays are unusually busy. I promise to come by as soon as I am done with court.”

Feeling guilty for acting like a petulant foal, Cure immediately changes his tune. “No, no. It’s fine. I understand, really. Would you like to have some company this morning, at least?” he offers.

Celestia doesn’t even have the opportunity to ask what he means before a flash of light heralds the arrival of a very familiar, uniquely colored, and nearly colt-sized bunny rabbit. While not as thick and muscular as Cure himself, the hare is nearly the same length and height so as to match his disguise during the previous visit. While monstrously large for a typical member of the species, its size is appropriate for a mare of Celestia’s stature to be able to meaningfully interact with it.

Amidst the princess’s delighted giggles, Bunlestia pads over to the mare and climbs between her and the table, nuzzling aggressively at the soft fur on the princess’s tummy. Cure takes care to aim high; due to the princess’s height, her teats are almost at chest height even when she’s sitting on her rump, and now very much does not feel like the right time to channel Molestia instead. The bunny barely gets two bonks in before being scooped up and held against her chest, smushed into the fluff of the happily wiggling mare.

Amethyst smiles fondly, softly chuckling at the scene of the centuries-old alicorn gushing and cooing over a bunnified, extra floofy version of herself despite knowing it is simply an extension of the colt beside her. Cure is all too happy to soak up the adoration, even if it isn’t directed at his primary body. He still gets the delightful sensation of being loved on by a soft, warm mare, something his pony brain can never seem to get enough of.

“I do believe that would be a yes,” his mom correctly observes.

“I would very much appreciate the company,” she agrees, setting the bunny back on the cushion under her barrel.

“Cool. And if you’d like, Bunlestia over there,” both mares snort at the name, “could always act as a sort-of-lie-detector.”

Celestia opens her mouth to ask for clarification, pausing when the service door opens again. Trays of fresh fruit, muffins, danishes, fancy crystal cups of yogurt, three large bowls of mixed oats and nuts, and equally ridiculously proportioned slices of a perfectly cooked quiche are left behind, putting a halt to conversation for several minutes.

“So,” Cure mumbles, his hoof over his muzzle so he’s not blasting food as he talks, “lie detector. I’m sure you’re very much aware of the tells somepony displays when they’re lying.”

“Of course,” she nods. “Refusal to meet your eyes, quickening heart rate, perspiration, odd twitches, movements of their ears… those are the more obvious signs. Some subconsciously shift their weight to a hind hoof or even shift their entire body from side to side slightly, an act often attributed to our prey-minded ancestors’ inclination to flee at a sign of potential trouble.”

“Exactly, but with my talent I can do a lot more.”

Celestia considers what all the colt is capable of. It only takes her a moment to nod in acknowledgement. “I would assume that any unconscious movement would be akin to a glowing horn in an otherwise darkened room for yourself.”

“It would, but even more than that, I can identify what regions of the brain are lighting up when they’re considering their answer. If they’re accessing memories then they’re probably recounting something that, at least, they do remember. If the creative or problem solving areas are lighting up instead, then you’re probably thinking up a lie.”

“Interesting,” the mare mumbles, pausing after a bite to consider the proposal. “Presumably that would only truly apply when recounting a past event, would it not?”

“It would be a lot more clear-cut in those instances, yes. If you’re asking somepony a theoretical question like, ‘What’s the best way to stimulate the economy?’ then, obviously, it would be a lot more difficult, maybe even impossible, to determine if the answer they’re giving is truly what they think would be best or if it’s simply a good answer that may give them some advantage.”

“I see. I shall keep that in mind should your assistance be required to solve a crime.”

“Oh yeah, definitely,” he eagerly agrees, bouncing on his seat. “I’d be like… the best forensic analyst you can imagine, too. Just let me scan a room where a crime happened and I’ll be able to tell you everypony that’s been in there. Maybe not their names,” he rushes to clarify, “but if they lost a single strand of their coat, mane, tail, or even the tiniest feather then I should be able to extrapolate a pretty good description of them.”

“Question.”

“Hm?”

“If you are able to scan and, presumably, reproduce portions of somepony’s brain, could you not also read their memories?”

The colt freezes mid-bite at the question, his face contorting in an ugly grimace. “Yes,” he hesitantly answers, “but to do so would require that I take in somepony else’s memories… that’s something I don’t think I could ever force myself to do. I think I’ve had quite enough of that experience already.”

The princess’s eyes widen in alarm, and she’s quick to lean over and rest a hoof on his withers. “I am so sorry, Cure! I had not even considered how insensitive of a question that was, given…”

“Nah, it’s alright, boss. I mean, it is a legitimate question, and I’m kinda surprised nopony else has ever thought to ask it. The truth is that I would never risk reproducing somepony else’s memories ‘cause… Well, we are, in large part, a product of our memories. If I were to try to take in the hundreds and hundreds of years worth of your memories, for example…” he trails off leadingly.

“Then you would all but be subsumed by them,” she nods in understanding.

“Yep. Probably. Assuming your memories are all stored biologically, that is.” She raises a brow in question, prompting him to explain, “Tia, if your memories were all only stored biologically, how would you have retained the ones you had prior to your reincarnations?”

A thoughtful frown crosses the mare’s muzzle as she pauses her eating. She blinks a couple times while considering the question and, once again, slowly nods in acknowledgement of the suggestion. “I suppose I had assumed that I was remade exactly as I was prior to the event, but…”

“There would have to be at least some rollback. You told me that when that happens you come back in perfect shape again. Coming back wouldn’t do much good if ya still have the poison in yer system, after all. We could kinda test that theory by seeing if memories from before that originate in your brain if you’d like.”

“I admit, I find myself warring between my curiosity and my wariness of discovering anything that would further separate me from my little ponies.”

“She said the thing!” Amethyst erupts in laughter, clopping her hooves merrily.

Cure, laughing aloud, reaches in his mane and pulls out three shot glasses with My Little Pony painted on the side. His horn glows for a second and two bottles pop into existence. Celestia immediately detects the sweet scent of grape juice that he pours in his own while the distinct aroma of a blended whiskey wafts from the other two pours.

“Salud!” he declares, hefting his own in the air and resting a hoof on the table to lean close enough for his mom to reach.

Amethyst scoops hers up and meets his toast, returning a loud, cheery “Salud!”

Both ponies freeze in place, looking at the ancient mare expectantly. A poke to her belly causes the mare to look down, finding the bunny staring back up at her. In a bizarrely deep stallion’s voice, the furry miscreant insists, “If yer not gonna hit that shit then pass it down here, will ya?”

Celestia briefly considers taking the entire bottle instead.

Once breakfast is concluded, the princess, with her faithful bunnicorn snuggling on her withers, escorts Cure and his mother to the castle’s main lobby. Amongst the throng of bodies coming or going, half dozen well dressed ponies are slowly making their way in. “Ladies and gentlestallions,” Celestia calls in greeting, getting the attention of the herd, “I do not believe you have yet had the opportunity to meet Prince Serpentus and his mother, Lady Minerva.

“Serpentus, these are the ponies upon whom I rely to advise me. I am sure you recall Duke Dandy Dresser,” she begins, smiling broadly while gesturing with a hoof to the white unicorn.

“Good morning, princess, your highness, milady,” the stallion greets with a warm smile. The smile morphs to confusion when he notices the rabbit on Celestia’s back. Cure has to choke back his laugh when he glances between it and Cure a few times trying to figure out the trick.

“Howdy, yer grace.”
“Good morning, Duke Dandy.”

Pushing aside his confusion, the older stallion inquires, “Will his highness be participating in our meeting? We have a very full agenda, it should be quite the jolly good time.”

The colt stamps a hoof and groans in mock disappointment. “Aww, as much as I hate missing out, I do have a few dozen folks waiting for me.”

“Ah, yes. We noticed the facility constructed by the north gate. The guards said it grew from… a piece of luggage?”

“That’s what it started as,” Cure confirms. “I’d tell ya more, but the boss lady says we’re supposed to be all mysterious and stuff. Part of the job description, you know.”

“Of course, of course,” he agrees, looking meaningfully at the bunny that, for a split second, seemed to be smirking at him. “Her majesty does indeed find amusement in her tricks, doesn’t she?”

Celestia smiles at the byplay, then nods to a dark maroon unicorn mare, “Lady Fair Start, Chancellor of Domestic and Foreign Affairs,” then to a light brown earth pony mare, “Lady Greenbriar Patch, Agriculture and Food Security. She’s been kept quite busy preparing to distribute all of your specialized seeds.”

“Absolutely, your highness!” the earth pony mare cheers. “We’re estimating an increase in yield of nearly two hundred percent for some crops!”

Cure recoils at the ridiculously high number. Wide-eyed, he looks up at the princess for confirmation. “Do not look so shocked, Serpentus. In my long life I have seen the benefits of selectively breeding all variety of crops. What you accomplished overnight resulted in similar or perhaps even greater improvements than even hundreds of generations of progress would have yielded.”

“Oh,” he mumbles still reeling from the surprise.

“‘Oh’ he says!” the mare chuckles. “You were, of course, right, your majesty. He had no idea, did he?”

“I would not expect such a young foal to have sufficient knowledge of crop development to truly grasp the impact of his actions.” She reaches down and briefly nuzzles her snout into his mane, saying, “Though his contributions are less widely touted than those in healthcare, they will no doubt be every bit as valuable to our citizens, and the world at large, in the long run.”

In a voice so soft Cure can easily see it being overpowered by the ambient noise alone, a light blue pegasus stallion with a navy mane interrupts. “I’m more interested in the report I received from Colonel Sharp. Talk about adding value…”

Cure glances to the princess, brow raised in question. “Colonel Sharp is the superintendent at the Maelstrom Academy. Chancellor Stormsurge,” she motions with her muzzle to the pegasus, “was informed that a student was the recipient of a procedure prior to his arrival. One that has, apparently, shown significant results.”

Cure feels a surge of adrenaline course through his veins. He slowly pans his gaze back to the pegasus and inquires, “And this report… When, exactly, did you receive it?” The room goes still at the softly spoken question; the colt fully unaware of the gentle swaying of his golden mane.

Celestia’s hoof on his withers calms his rising ire. “Peace, Serpentus. The dispatch addressed to you will be awaiting your return to Baltimare. The good colonel’s missives were sent with all due haste, as you ordered.” She turns back to the pegasus and proposes, “Perhaps the subject can be discussed further when you see Serpentus later this morning, chancellor.” The stallion accepts the suggestion with a barely perceptible nod.

“Maker above,” Chancellor Fair Start mumbles as everypony, save the princess and Amethyst, collectively exhales in relief. “No wonder the griffons like him so much.”

A yellow pegasus with a deep red mane snorts a laugh, nodding in agreement. “And he’s certainly not an alicorn,” she sarcastically quips. “Lady Valorous Call, your highness,” she greets with a bow of head. “Chancellor of Health and Family Resources. I would argue with Lady Greenbriar that your contributions have benefited those under me the most, and I must say I’m incredibly excited to hear of your plans to begin speaking at schools.

“I had thought to propose such an idea myself, but had not yet broached the subject with her majesty. To hear of you taking the initiative to reach out to other foals…” she pauses to take a deep breath and smiles, in all likelihood, as broadly as her face can possibly manage, exclaiming, “I simply could not be more thrilled to hear of it! I look forward to seeing your success!”

“Hopefully I can live up to your expectations, Lady… Valor?” he questions, earning a pleased smile and a nod. “I admit, I’m a little worried about what questions the other foals will come up with. Sorry to change the subject, though,” he turns to Chancellor Start, “what was that about the griffons? I’ve barely interacted with them.”

The maroon unicorn shrugs and explains, “I had thought not, but Darius insists you have the ‘heart of a griffon,’ whatever that means. Whatever you did in your meeting, it seemed to have made quite the first impression.”

Cure isn’t sure if she’s referring to the bizarre stare-down at his coronation or when he demonstrated the futility of attempting to sever his own leg, but he supposes that either probably would be a little unusual for most foals. Or, possibly, somepony somehow figured out that he can turn into a hippogriff and likes to visit griffon restaurants.

“Ah. I see,” he mumbles, not volunteering an explanation of the possible reasons. He regards what he assumes is the last member of the chancellery, a tall, but exceedingly slim unicorn with a slightly graying black coat and a bright yellow mane. “By process of elimination, that would make you Chancellor Sheets, I presume?”

“Indeed, your highness,” the stallion replies, barely lowering his snout from the sky in the shallowest bow that Cure has probably ever received. “A pleasure, though I understand I may not be your most favorite pony ever. Her majesty mentioned your aversion to the current tax system… not something I would expect a young stallion such as yourself to have a strong opinion on.”

Cure waves his right forehoof in dismissal, insisting, “Actually, the tax system seems just fine. It’s a heck of a lot simpler than many I’ve heard of. That doesn’t mean I was happy when the bill came due, though.”

“Tha colt just ‘bout got his muzzle washed out with soap by his dam from the way his sire tells it,” Amethyst interjects with a smirk.

Cure paws at the ground and hangs his head. “I… may have let a few… more colorful things slip.” He rallies all at once, holding his head up high as he insists, “In my defense, my first tax bill was far, far higher than I had expected.”

“The first one is usually rather painful,” the stallion agrees. A moment of silence falls on the room at his unfortunate phrasing, interrupted when Amethyst snorts out a laugh. Despite his dark coat, the stallion’s face and ears flush as the female members of the group quietly titter in amusement.

“Right… Well, on that note,” Cure begins, bobbing his head in a respectful nod, “I think I see at least one familiar pony waiting for me so we can get started. We don’t want to leave anypony waiting, though it was nice to finally put some faces to the names. Princess,” he waves a wing, “ladies and lords. Have fun in your meeting.”

The others call back their farewells as Amethyst and Cure depart to approach another group who had been quietly watching from just inside the main entrance. “Nurse Glade!” he calls in greeting as he approaches the mare. “I just knew you couldn’t wait to see me again!”

The green earth pony gives Cure a small smile and bows in greeting. “Good morning, highness. It is good to see you despite your… oddness,” she teases.

“I’ve been called worse. I can live with ‘odd.’”

“I’m sure, your highness. I’m not really a nurse, you know? Just an assistant.”

“Eh, details, schmetails,” he dismisses with a shrug. “If you can keep everypony flowing like you did during the births then I’ll call ya whatever you want.”

An unfamiliar white unicorn mare in a stereotypical doctor’s coat steps forward, not quite interposing herself between Cure and Nurse Glade, but still positioning herself ahead of the mare. “Good morning, your highness,” she greets with a bow. “Dr. Warm Pulse. I head the Pediatrics Department at the Canterlot University Medical Center. With all due respect, I’ll be acting as your supervising physician this morning, sir.”

“Sounds good, doc. Hopefully it won’t be too boring of a day for you.”

“I’m sure it won’t, sir! I consider myself very lucky to get the assignment.”

“Well… we’ll just see how you feel in a few hours.”

Lying just west and slightly to the south of the castle’s north perimeter gate, Cure’s completed clinic stands tall and proud, ready to receive its first ever visitors. Opting to go for a simple, clean, yet inviting façade, the east-facing front of the building is a white wooden plank design, though if anypony were to look closely they would quickly realize that the seams between the boards are purely cosmetic; the entire building is, in fact, one single piece of wood occupying a thirty-by-thirty meter square.

It’s the first time Cure’s ever constructed a full-sized building and, in all likelihood, he figures he probably went a little overboard on the thickness of the floor, walls, and the four support beams each located ten meters in from the building’s corners. The meter-thick slabs of hardwood could likely support the sloped, triangular roof’s weight a dozen times over. The Canterhorn historically has never had an earthquake, but he’s rather confident that even should the worst happen, his little clinic will still be in one piece, even if it’s at the bottom of the mountain.

Though only a single story, the colt made sure to construct the facility tall enough that even Celestia could stand at her full, glorious height with several meters of hornroom to spare. All accommodations are designed so that everypony from the smallest pegasus to the tallest earth pony stallion will feel welcome; a necessity given the wide variety of officers he’ll likely see over the coming week.

Staring from the outside, there’s little for the ponies accompanying him to see. Tall, wide windows made of transparent wood span the majority of the front, along with a short, wide ramp leading up the slight incline to two sets of wide double doors. Cure had considered adding a small porch area, but couldn’t really envision anypony just hanging out outside his clinic; families would mostly be taking off as soon as they’re treated and there’s more than adequate lobby space inside the building.

“Aaaannnnd they just put this up overnight?” Glade asks, eying the building suspiciously.

“Nope.”

“I didn’t think so,” she comments, nodding in acceptance.

“I built it overnight. Myself.” Several heads slowly turn in the colt’s direction, staring in disbelief. “Technically, I grew it, I suppose. Ask the sarge,” he suggests, tossing his head back towards the unicorn.

“It grew out of a chest,” the stallion confirms, the other two guards nodding along with him. “Sgt. Duskdale spent most of the night running the gawking guards off. Had a few that even tried to get in, apparently.”

“Yep,” Cure chirps. “Guess they got curious, but they couldn’t get in. Unsafe construction site, ya know? The doors were locked up tight.”

“But… How?!” the mare questions.

“How’d I lock the doors?” Cure teases, earning a deadpan stare. He fully extends his wings, waving them lazily in the air and, in a spooky-ghost voice, answers, “Mystical alicorn cow manure.”

“That’s not really an explanation, your highness,” Glade argues, huffing in exaggerated annoyance.

The irritating colt smiles broadly and bobs his head in acknowledgement. “Yeah, I know. It’s more fun if I don’t tell you though. For me, that is,” he clarifies unnecessarily. “Maybe not as fun for you, but that ‘It’s not even eight o’clock and I’m done with your crap’ look greatly amuses me. Now c’mon,” he calls, trotting up the ramp to push the doors open, “our first patients will be here soon and we need to get you all situated.”

Fighting back a sigh, the mare joins everypony else as they follow the colt up the ramp towards the building, the group pausing only a moment to read a half-meter square sign posted on both sides of the entryway.

::ATTENTION::
You are entering an area with active scanning medical magic present.
Any and all creatures will be subject to a thorough medical scan immediately upon entry.

Nopony seems to care at all; after a moment’s glance they all continue on and enter the building, not even batting an eye when the nearly imperceptible tingle of magic washes over their coats.

Rather than the expected hard flooring, a thick, plush moss-like material covers the floor, completely eliminating the sound of hooffalls. Soft floral scents and the smell of freshly cut grass fill the room without being overbearing.

Light birch wood walls allow the light flooding in from the windows and numerous skylights to illuminate the area, showing a large lobby with dozens of low sitting couches arranged in blocks for families to lay together. Strangely glowing vines line several of the overhead beams, supplementing the lighting for areas not directly under the skylights.

An area in the northwest corner seems set aside for foals; even from the entrance Glade can make out numerous toys and plush dolls laid out to entertain any visiting youths. The south wall has a low-sitting counter running its length covered in a veritable smorgasbord of vine-grown fresh fruits, juice dispensers, and even a coffee and tea service. The several-liter metal vats seem oddly out of place in the otherwise nature-themed building, but are a welcome sight nonetheless.

Serene Glade can’t even fathom how that in particular grew out of a foal’s travel luggage, nor where in the world the water to supply everything is coming from. She’s fairly certain the building isn’t tied into the city’s water and sewage system, which makes her reluctantly wonder how the bathrooms along the north wall operate.

A long, wooden desk portions off a small workspace for her and the ponies managing the patients’ records. It spans the length from the south wall to shortly before the door to the young prince’s office that occupies the entire southwest corner of the building. Her own workstation is labeled with a placard bearing her name, which is odd since, based on his reaction at the castle, he apparently did not know she would be present. Smaller, more softly glowing lamps on adjustable vines give the desk additional lighting.

“Feel free to snack all you want,” the little alicorn insists, waving his left wing towards the refreshments. “Anything you eat or drink will replenish itself almost instantly. Don’t go completely hog wild, though. I’m not super keen on having to treat everypony’s tummy aches because they couldn’t hold back. Also, feel free to take some with you when we’re done today if you want. And sarge, if any of the patrols want to stop in on their breaks they’re free to grab a snack, too.

“Momma, why don’t you get yourself a cup of the good stuff over there,” he says, motioning to the tall, aluminum tank of coffee. “There’s sugar and a variety of creamers to choose from. You can get yerself a snack then head back to the room for a nap if ya want.”

“Sounds good, colt,” she readily agrees, beelining for the vat of sacred brew. “I’ll stick around fer a bit, then head back.”

“Cool. There’s a few file cabinets behind the desk for the patient files,” he points out, glancing towards the employees from Records that are responsible for ensuring they are kept safe, “and you’ll find plenty of quills, inkpots, paper, and whatever supplies you’ll need in the drawers. If there’s something I forgot just let me know; I don’t typically work the front desk, obviously, but I think I’ve got the most common forms ready to go. Doc?” he calls out, looking towards the very overwhelmed mare.

She belatedly realizes he’s addressing her and stops gawking at the building. “Huh?”

“You’re with me,” he insists, pushing his own door open and trotting through. “Hurry up, the first few ponies are passing through the gate now.”

“How the hay does he know that?” she quietly asks the room.

“You heard the colt,” his lead guard smirks, “mystical alicorn cow manure. You should probably get acquainted with your shared office, ma’am,” he suggests, motioning towards the door.

“Right. Sure,” she warily agrees, mustering up the resolve to follow the ridiculous colt into a private office. The decor inside is much the same as the lobby with some minor changes. Similar to the bizarre refreshment plants growing outside, a flowering array of vines takes up nearly the entirety of the west and south walls, leaving openings for two room-spanning windows that, while providing plenty of light, are covered by partially opaque pull-down blinds. The mass of plants continues down the wall, partially obscured by a single, long, L-shaped couch that seems like it grew from the wall itself; a likely proposition considering the building’s source and apparent method of construction.

A desk with a built-in cushion is situated just south of the door and faces the couch. A single quill rests in an inkpot to the right side, as does a stack of blank pieces of paper. A crystal of some kind is embedded in a raised pedestal on the front of the desk, the function of which Dr. Pulse can’t immediately discern. Touching it with her magic reveals it to be enchanted with Illusion, a fact that causes her even more confusion.

“That’s for me to show you what I’m doing,” the colt volunteers in explanation from behind her. “I figure you’ll want to approve everything since we’ve not worked together and, rather than tell you, it’ll be easier and a whole lot faster to just show you instead.”

“Ah. I see.”

“Like I said,” he continues, “this’ll probably be pretty boring for you. The first patient is here with her family, so go ahead and get comfortable and let me know if there’s anything you want me to go over in detail.”

“Sure, okay,” the doctor agrees. She climbs onto the cushion and leans her barrel on the padded surface the desk is anchored to. It’s a little odd, she notes, for a unicorn to have a setup like that. Most prefer to write with their horns rather than their hooves, so freeing up her forelegs isn’t really necessary. Then again, the colt was an earth pony, she considers, so it’s probably just what he’s used to.

A knock at the door prompts the colt to call out, “Enter!” revealing Nursing Assistant Glade holding a file out.

“Your first patient is here, highness.”

The young prince takes the folder with a grateful nod. “Great! Send…” he pauses to look at the paperwork, “her in whenever she’s ready. Thanks!”

“Right away, sir,” she nods, pulling the door shut behind her.

The colt floats the papers over to Dr. Pulse who quickly reviews the file. “Pegasus mare, aged twenty-six, tentatively diagnosed with multiple sclerosis at… oof… showed symptoms early. Fifteen. Lost the ability to fly by twenty-three and symptoms seem to be developing unusually quickly.”

She closes the file and sets it on her desk, looking up to meet the colt’s eyes. “Frankly, highness, there’s little I could do to help this mare even if I were qualified. I understand there has been some success using neurological regeneration spells, but with the difficulty in targeting the spinal column… I’m unaware of anypony having anything close to a cure.”

“Right,” he agrees with a nod, “and this is one of those instances where what I do seems to fix the problem, but I have absolutely no way to explain the how. My best guess based on before and after observation is that I, somehow, magically reprogram the immune system to stop attacking the nervous system. Honestly, autoimmune disorders are a major source of frustration for me since I much prefer to develop treatments for this kind of stuff to be distributed everywhere rather than having to fix it one pony at a time. It’s like cancer, in a way.”

“I’m not an oncologist, sir. I know enough, but, thank the maker, it’s a diagnosis I’ve only had to give a hooffull of times.”

“Ah. Well, to grossly oversimplify it, for every creature that has cancer, there’s a slightly different type of cancer, unfortunately. I have a possible fix being analyzed by the eggheads, but there’s some potential issues with it.” Namely, that it also reverses aging, Cure doesn’t say. He takes a deep breath and blows out a sigh. “Well… enough of the depressing crap. Wanna take bets on whether I score a hug outta this?”

The odds of getting a hug for giving a pegasus back the sky? she ponders. There’s no way I’m betting against that.

In the Chancellery Meeting

Taking his position at the opposite end of the conference table, Duke Dandy keeps a keen eye trained on her majesty as she briefly frets over the odd pet accompanying her while everypony else seats themselves. A flash of the princess’s horn summons an opulent golden brush; one gifted to the mare by some Saddle Arabian sheikh attempting to gain her favor some two hundred years ago, supposedly.

With delicate and precise motions, she runs the brush through the doe’s mane and tidies its brow, carefully avoiding an accidental tap to its horn, then gently grooms its chin, neck, and cheeks. The bunny relishes the attention, leaning heavily into the velvety bristles while her hind leg quietly thumps atop her majesty’s pillow. A sinfully fluffy little wing rises as the mare’s hoof drifts further back, and the critter nearly falls over itself when a particularly pleasurable, judging from its body language, spot is found just beneath its wing joint.

A sonorous laugh fills the room with warmth, energizing the stallion more than even the most stout cup of piping hot tea on a cold winter morn. It’s the rare times like these that bring a genuine smile to the old stallion’s face; the times when the ancient and indescribably powerful mare that singlehornedly juggles the heavens lets fall her princessly mein and indulges in a simple, wholesome, joyful act.

“I’m pleased to find the windows intact, Tia,” he teases. “Shall I advise Creature Resources to begin the hunt for a Royal Caretaker?”

“No,” she sighs, “as delightful as a more attentive pet would be, this one will be departing when Serpentus does.”

“Should we be concerned?” Chan. Greenbriar inquires. “Creating plants is one thing, but entirely new animals? That rabbit has a horn and, admittedly, small wings. Can it use them?”

“I rather suspect it could, but there is no reason to worry. As a rule, he ensures that his creations are unable to reproduce.” A sly smirk crosses the mare’s muzzle. “Perhaps the groundskeepers could find some male bunnies to see if she has any interest in them, just to be sure.”

Cure briefly considers giving the princess a nip, but that would give up the game. This is quickly turning into the exact scenario he described when he suggested pretending to be a dog and messing with the Golden Hills guards. He’s half tempted to go out and find a real rabbit to alter and pull a switcheroo with, but giving somepony an unexpected and unsolicited pet falls firmly in “dick move” territory, infinite resources or not.

Of course, joking about putting his puppet in a situation where other rabbits would attempt to get freaky with him is quite a bit worse, even if there’s absolutely zero chance of any such thing happening. A slight adjustment of the bunny’s scent to that of a predator would have any would-be suitors fleeing in an instant.

“I’m more worried about his response to my comment,” Stormsurge grumbles in his typical soft voice. “Col. Sharp ultimately reports to me. There is no reason to get worked up over such an insignificant thing as a notice being tardy.”

Celestia hums while absently nodding. “While I would not typically disagree, bear in mind that he has been stolen from, spied upon, and then, finally, targeted by both international and domestic groups attempting to foalnap or, perhaps, outright kill him. I would argue that asking to be notified when the results of his efforts are disclosed is not overly burdensome, nor is it unreasonable. Also, I would remind you that by Equestrian law, you do report to him,” Celestia adds, “and he to myself, chancellor. Any request such as his is well within the bounds of his authority.”

The cerulean pegasus reluctantly nods in acceptance. “As you say, princess.”

“As interesting as the rabbit is,” Valor interrupts, “we have a lot to cover and court begins in less than an hour, so if you don’t mind…?” she drifts off, waving a document in her hoof. She barely waits for Celestia to nod before continuing, “I have an update regarding the gender selection treatment. The latest nest of mice are, by all accounts, completely healthy. We’re moving forward with pony testing and already have six couples scheduled to come in for testing next week.”

“We should be hoofing the stuff out to the Guard while everypony is in town,” Stormsurge argues. “We’d have an entire new generation of guard stallions in a decade and a half. All from good stock that would be more than eager to participate in the experiment.”

“I am not authorizing widescale testing, Storm,” Valor immediately cuts back. “The last thing you want is a bunch of guard mares busy at home taking care of retarded foals. We have to make sure it’s safe first. Besides, it’s not like we don’t get plenty of foals out of this every year anyhow.”

“I suppose, but why would it even matter if the foals are retarded? His highness can just wave his horn and fix them when they’re born anyhow,” the stallion argues. He motions to the room of mostly mares and adds, “I figured you would all leap at the chance to have a few hundred more colts instead of more fillies runnin around.”

“We are not having this argument again,” Celestia tiredly interrupts. “While I have the utmost confidence they will work as intended, Serpentus’ creations will go through proper testing and verification the same as anything before being made available for widespread use.” She turns back to Valor and inquires, “What are the results of your experiments with his antiviral trees? Are we prepared to release them for general use?”

“We are,” the mare confirms. “Testing has proceeded quickly due in large part to the changes he made during his last visit. It’s far easier to test individual antiviral agents rather than testing a whole swath of them to ensure they’re safe. We’re coordinating with Colonel Sanguine over the Medic Corps to ensure swift and secure distribution channels are established for both the antiviral treatments and the vaccines.”

She nods to Stormsurge who chimes in, adding, “The colonel’s squads are all in place and waiting to go. Notices have been distributed to all of the RHAs and regional captains. The instant anypony out there so much as sniffles we’ll have their samples collected and delivered overnight. Logistics officers are on standby around the clock, ma’am.”

“Further,” Valor continues, “we have plans in the works to securely transport a pair of trees via rail to any of the metros in case of an outbreak situation. Our offices’ actuaries are anticipating a mortality rate as functionally close to zero as is statistically possible. I would only ask that should the trees themselves be inadequate, we consider asking his highness’s parents to make him available to deploy as necessary.”

“I will broach the subject with them at the next opportunity,” Celestia responds. “Given their aid in the creation of his first antiviral trees, I suspect they would be amenable to such a request. Do keep in mind that Serpentus is but a foal. We already ask much of him and his family; I am loath to continue asking for more.”

Sheets speaks up saying, “I agree with her majesty. He’s volunteering literal months of his time to help with the births and attend functions such as today’s, not to mention his nine hours per week he spends at Baltimare Hospital. His presence will benefit Equestria for centuries, but he will only have this one foalhood,” he impassionately argues. “We should exhaust all other options and, only if the situation is truly dire, ask to begin shipping him all over the nation.”

“Very well,” Valor agrees. “I will, of course, keep everypony updated as the situation progresses. My bet is we’ll have our first few cases cropping up any day now.”

“Excellent. Also please keep me updated on what you find with his bug creations. They are not as high of a priority, but they do represent a significant advancement in our defensive capabilities.”

“Certainly, princess.”

“Me as well,” Stormsurge insists. “I want to know if he can make ones to target other creatures. Our analysts in Zebrabwe reported some movement from the Matobo Tribe. It seems they’re starting to feel the pinch from falling exports.”

“I would expect so,” Chan. Sheets interrupts. “Our spending on their medicines has dwindled significantly just over the last two months. The lack of demand from our nation has caused a small stockpile to develop, costing them even more on storage. I understand many of those elixirs are quite finicky with their storage requirements.”

“They are,” Chan. Valor adds. “Light, temperature, and vibration all need accounted for, of course, but I understand only limited quantities can be stored within a certain are due to some kind of… metaphysical radiation?”

“That is correct,” Celestia confirms. “Magically charged substances have to be isolated from each other, lest their energies compound or mix in unexpected ways.”

Stormsurge clears his throat to get everypony’s attention. “As interesting as this is, the crux of the matter is that we’re concerned they may decide to send some ‘ambassadors’ for a visit. Having something like those bugs that could disable en masse at range, such as targeted, venomous swarms of bugs, would be immensely helpful.”

Celestia shakes her head in denial, explaining, “While I have little doubt he could, I would not approve of such an indiscriminate weapon’s use. If you find evidence that a team has been dispatched then inform me immediately and we will respond as appropriate.”

“Understood, ma’am. We’ve already alerted agents in coastal cities to keep an eye out.”

Celestia accepts the stallion’s response with a nod. “Moving on to more immediate concerns, are there any last minute issues with preparations for the competition itself?”

“None other than the usual,” Stormsurge answers, shaking his head. “Countess Gust is being a nuisance, I’m sure you’re surprised to hear.”

“Every year,” Chan. Sheets grumbles. “Her squad already costs three times as much as nearly every other team and she still insists that the accommodations are inadequate! I say we issue a stipend and make everypony that wants to put their squad in nicer hotels pay the difference.”

“That wouldn’t be fair to her squad and you know it,” Stormsurge argues. “They need the larger accommodations and it’s certainly not their fault that Vanhoofer is so far away.”

“It isn’t,” the dark stallion agrees, “but complaining about it at every competition is her choice, and my team spends an inordinate amount of time trying to satisfy her each year rather than being thanked and left alone like they should be.”

“I keep telling you to use the same hotel each time,” Stormsurge grumbles.

“And I keep telling you that the other hotels with adequate rooming complain that they are being excluded from selection!”

Duke Dandy interrupts the pair before they can get out of hoof, calling out in a raised voice, “I’m sure Countess Gust is simply looking out for her squad. The event is still well within the proposed budget, so perhaps we should move on to other topics. That is, unless there is something else that needs discussed?” he inquires, looking between the two.

“No,” Sheets responds at the same time Stormsurge shakes head, saying, “Nothing on my end.”

Celestia shoots her old friend a grateful nod. “Fantastic. Sheets?”

“Yes, ma’am?”

“Have there been any updates on the trade negotiations with the griffons?”

“Yes, your highness. King Guto is reportedly impressed with the increased yield from test farms with managed weather, and has appointed Lady Helena Driftmark to investigate expanding the program to additional crops such as tobacco and cotton. We’re expecting a request to meet to discuss the next phase any day now.”

“How wonderful! Please reach out to Marchioness Gulfwing to ensure an adequate workforce will be available.”

The stallion gives a single mirthless chuckle. “Given the incentives we’re offering to pegasi willing to spend a season there, I doubt that will be a problem, majesty.”

“Fantastic. This may be a good opportunity to also broach the subject of constructing an additional weather factory somewhere nearer the east coast. Given its location and already present infrastructure, I would think Baltimare to be an ideal location.”

Despite his best efforts to not listen in on Celestia’s meeting too much, Cure couldn’t help but learn a few things. In a way, he feels a little guilty for inadvertently eavesdropping, but if Celestia had simply Sent him a message, he could have easily turned off the creature’s ability to hear, so as long as he has her tacit approval he doesn’t feel too bad about it.

Based on Ed’s memories, he assumed the meeting would be boring and wholly unnecessary. That doesn’t seem to be the case, though. With only an hour set aside to cover the biggest topics coming up across the entire nation, he found that the meeting moved quickly and was, for the most part, very informative.

Not only that, but learning how the chancellery interacted with each other was rather interesting. Cure had always held this idea in his head that every word spoken by the princess was treated as if it was a missive from the maker herself, but that doesn’t quite seem to be the case. There’s no shortage of reverence placed on the mare, that’s for sure, the majority of the unnecessary formality was discarded once the meeting got underway.

Hearing the duke address the princess by a nickname caused the colt’s real body to go wide-eyed and almost coaxed a reaction from his bunny puppet as well.

It’s just shy of eleven o’clock when Cure finishes with his last patient, his rabbit puppet allowing him to be aware of the herd of ponies headed his way. Celestia is present, of course, as are Duke Dandy, his wife, their presumed adult children, and two young fillies that must be their grandchildren, the younger of which is waving at everypony she passes from atop Bunlestia’s back; the rabbit in question zooming and zipping to and fro at her rider’s command.

Cure briefly wonders why the chancellors aren’t accompanying the two before mentally dope slapping himself; it wouldn’t make a lot of sense to have five additional ponies and their entire families come at once when they’re working under the assumption that Cure needs several minutes to heal each pony.

“Well doc, it looks like your relief is finally here,” he says, pulling his office door open with his horn. “The princess, duke, and his family are on their way with a squad of medics to swap out with all of you. Are you coming back Wednesday or is somepony else rotating in?”

The mare looks legitimately saddened when she shakes her head no. “Unfortunately it won’t be me again.” She climbs out of her desk and begins packing away a number of printouts Cure made for her; detailed anatomical drawings much like the ones decorating his office in Baltimare. “I was serious when I said I got lucky; we drew lots to see who got assigned here. I think Dr. Steady Flow will be here on Wednesday, but I don’t recall who won Friday’s shift.”

“Ah. A shame. Maybe I’ll see you in Detrot come January then.”

“Maybe, sir, depending on where I get shipped off to. Have a good day and thanks for the diagrams!”

The two exit the office to find everypony packing up. Desks are cleaned up, trash is thrown away, and files are secured in a locked saddlebag by a pegasus charged with taking them directly to the hospital’s records department. The only ponies not getting ready to head out the door are a patrol squad that stopped in to grab some refreshments.

Cure smirks when he sees them watching everypony leave. He turns their way and hollers out, “Quick! Look busy! The boss is comin!” They all momentarily freeze, then frantically bolt, trying to line up to come to attention, tripping and smashing into each other with drinks and snacks flying all over. It’s like something straight out of a cartoon.

Even the timing is perfect; the door swings open to the ancient alicorn just as the final mare lands in place, spins to face her, and snaps off a salute while her eyes lock onto a stray feather drifting slowly to the ground between them.

Having watched the squad’s manic rush to appear orderly through the windows during her approach, Celestia barely suppresses a laugh when she turns in their direction. “At ease. You are welcome to relax and enjoy your break, corporal. I take it the refreshments are to your liking?”

“Yes, ma’am!” The mare replies, stalwartly ignoring the spilled grape juice running down her foreleg. “The lemonade is phenomenal, ma’am! Even better’n dam used to make it!”

The stallion to her right nods eagerly, levitating a filled paper cup to the princess in offering. “It’s raspberry flavored, your majesty!”

Celestia lights up her horn and takes the, relative to her, tiny cup with a grateful nod and knocks it back in one go. “Thank you, Private Eclair. I agree; that was quite delicious, and very refreshing! You may resume your break; you need not pay us any mind.”

The dopey smile he gives the princess reminds Cure of a lovesmitten foal pining after an older, disinterested mare. It’s cute and, if it weren’t so wholesome and innocent, would probably be a little sad.

The princess, along with the duke and his family, pause a moment to take in the building, marveling at the structure that, as far as most of them understand, grew from a box overnight. “This is quite an upgrade compared to the tents we planned to use,” the stallion stoically observes.

“I am rather proud of it,” Cure admits. “The lobby is a bit over the top considering I’ve not really had anypony waiting very long, but I didn’t hear any complaints from anypony. Especially in regards to the wall of refreshments.”

“I would imagine not,” he agrees. Dandy beckons for his wife to step beside him and motions to the slate-gray mare in introduction. Cure recalls seeing her for the first time on the morning of his coronation, though with the poor lighting at the time he mistook her mane color for black. It was only when his rabbit spotted the mare outside that he realized it’s actually a navy color just a shade or two darker than the duke’s. “Your highness, allow me to introduce my beloved, Duchess Elegant Dresser, my granddaughter and her husband, Gilded Gown and Bottom Line, and their daughters Enchanted Slip and Summer Dress.

“My son and his wife would be here, but he is currently holding down the fort, as it were; preparing to take over in my stead and all that, you understand.” Cure offers a nod in acceptance as the stallion ducks his head in a shallow bow, saying, “I’m sure his highness, Prince Serpentus, needs no introduction.”

“A pleasure. How about you four,” he nods to the younger couple and their foals, “go get something to snack on while we,” he waves to himself and their parents, “head on into my office. We shouldn’t be more than a few minutes, so I wouldn’t suggest getting too comfortable.”

Plan agreed upon, Cure begins leading the couple into his office, momentarily thrown off when the princess decides to accompany them. For a split second he contemplates asking her what she thinks she’s doing, but when neither the duke or duchess raise any objection he figures she would only need to step outside if somepony speaks up.

Of course, that’s only a theoretical anyhow since, given who she is, there’s certainly the argument that the mare could go wherever she damn well pleases, and even if somepony has the balls to raise a fuss there is very little that they realistically do about her presence.

The image of somepony hauling the princess up by her scruff and tossing her out the front door like a troublemaker at an old western saloon briefly flits through the colt’s mind, forcing him to hold back a chuckle.

“Princess,” he calls, extending his wing towards the couch on the south wall in invitation, then to the one along the west wall, “and if my esteemed patients would go ahead and make themselves comfortable, we’ll get you all taken care of and on your way in no time.”

“Yes, of course,” the stallion agrees as everypony gets situated. Cure hops up to join the princess, but simply lays beside her instead of the typical snuggling.

The attempt to maintain his professionalism is summarily disposed of when, to the great amusement of the others, the ancient alicorn pulls him between her forelegs and nuzzles into his mane. “I must thank you for allowing your pet to join me this morning. I fear little Silken Shaw will be heartbroken when it comes time for them to depart.”

“I do not look forward to that tantrum,” Dandy agrees. “That, however, is the beauty of being a grandparent - or, great grandparent in this case - the ability to give them back to their dam and sire when they act up.”

“Oh, please,” Elegant rolls her eyes good naturedly. “You say that, but nopony pacifies those foals like Grandpa Dandy.”

The stallion seems to radiate pride despite being called out. “Yes, well, I suppose they are both rather cooperative fillies, fortunately.”

Cure has a very good idea as to why the duke brought his family with him, but pounces on the opportunity to get on with his task. If he takes time to chit chat with everypony on his schedule today then he will be here all night. “I’m a little surprised you brought them along. They both seem like healthy, energetic fillies.”

“Ah, yes,” the duke agrees. “They are, thank the maker. They are simply accompanying their parents. I understand your highness will be quite busy over the coming days. I was hesitant to ask that the others take the opportunity his highness so generously offered, but… well,” he drifts off looking slightly uncomfortable.

Fortunately his wife steps in to finish the explanation before Cure can ask. “Gilded had confided in me her desire to try for a son again. With the season hitting next week, we had hoped there may be something that his highness could suggest that may prove helpful.”

“I see. Two things. First, feel free to call me by my real name when we’re behind closed doors. Cure Wave,” he offers to the duchess, “in case that hasn’t been shared with you.”

“I had not disclosed any of your details,” Dandy is quick to respond while his wife nods in agreement. “Her majesty requested discretion even before your first visit. I have no doubt whatsoever that her request had been heeded by any who heard it.”

“Cool. Either way, no need for formalities with me behind closed doors. Now then, as far as Mr. Line’s results are concerned, I take medical information privacy very, very seriously, so I will have to discuss that subject with the patients themselves.”

“I understand,” she begins, appearing slightly frustrated, “but Gilded already told me his test results and she was devastated to find he could only sire fillies!” Celestia maintains her stoicism, but for whatever reason the subject of his granddaughter testing his grandson’s spunk seems to be causing Duke Dandy a small amount of discomfort.

The mare doesn’t even bat an eye, continuing, “I told her to have him take the test again in the hopes that it was simply her magic interfering with the results, but they were the same no matter what she did!”

It suddenly occurs to Cure that he may be indirectly responsible for more stallions blowing their loads than any other single pony on the planet. He’s not exactly sure if he should be immensely proud or horrified. Oddly, he hasn't seen any studies indicating what percentage of ponies are good enough with their telekinesis aura or their horn to rub one off. Then again, in all likelihood that’s almost certainly a skill anystallion would strive to develop during their teenage years. If not, with the massively skewed gender ratio he figures most probably found a willing assistant fairly easily. So, proud. Tentatively.

“Dearest, young Cure Wave will no doubt discuss the matter when he sees them. There’s no need to concern yourself at the moment, I am certain.”

“Very well,” she sighs, leaning against her husband. “I suppose I could simply discuss the matter with Gilded after her consultation. I only ask that you do what you can, your highness. I would be extraordinarily grateful to have a great grandson to dote on come next summer. I understand there is a treatment in the works, but it is still undergoing testing, correct?”

“There is a treatment being tested for something related, but right now I’m the only one that can fix the issue that you described,” Cure explains. “In regards to your granddaughter, with her and Mr. Line’s blessing I am sure that there is something we can come up with to help.”

She gives him a curt nod in acceptance. “Excellent. Then I shall look forward to the good news.”

Dandy coughs awkwardly. “Moving on from our grandson’s… virility… What is the process for this?” he asks, waving at the room in general.

“Pretty simple, really. Mrs. Dresser, overall you’re in excellent health, so if you’re okay with it, I’ll basically give you a full once-over. All those lovely aches and pains that the years have gifted you will be naught but a memory. I can’t do the cosmetic stuff right now because that ties back to my real identity, so you won’t look very different but you’ll feel like you did in your twenties.”

The mare gains a pensive look, obviously thrilled that she’ll have her health restored but visibly disappointed that it won’t be reflected in her appearance. While he is sympathetic, there is no way he is going to have Prince Serpentus doing the same treatment that Cure Wave does for however many dozens or hundreds of ponies he sees over the coming days.

He’s also not enamored with the idea of giving the service away for free to somepony who probably has more wealth in one of her jewelry stand’s drawers than his entire family has cumulatively earned over their entire lives. It would be ridiculously unfair for him to charge ponies that make a fraction of what she does full price then give the cosmetic treatment to her for free. He only did that with Manesota and Tailahassee to demonstrate his usefulness and gain their loyalty.

She at least has the good sense not to voice any objection in the presence of the only two alicorns on the planet.

“That sounds fantastic!” she exclaims with slightly forced cheer. “Thank you, Cure Wave. What of my husband?”

The colt makes a show of lighting up his horn, scanning the duke for a few extra seconds before cutting the power off. “Just as you are, Duke Dandy is in good health for a stallion his age. There are, of course, a number of age-related issues for me to address, but there’s also a number of small problems I have that I would expect from anypony that’s been in a stressful job for a long time.”

Cure pauses and reaches over with his left wing to poke at the princess’s chest, adding, “At least, from anypony that’s not an alicorn, I suppose. You must be immune to ulcers, IBS, and a plethora of other things I’m certain anypony else with your job would develop within a few years.”

The mare frowns and inclines her head in thought for a moment before slowly nodding. “I suppose I had never considered that I may not experience the deleterious effects of my position. I admit there have been periods where restful sleep eluded me, but I cannot recall ever suffering any of the physical maladies that other rulers have experienced.”

“I would appreciate knowing to whom I shall address my complaint,” Dandy dryly remarks.

Cure waves the issue away with his right hoof, insisting, “That won’t be a problem for you in just a moment anyhow. You’ll both feel like a million bits when we’re done here today, promise.”

“Excellent! Thank you, young stallion!”

“You’re quite welcome. Now, you’re going to feel my magic running through you. It will hit some rather private areas, of course, but that’s just the nature of the beast, unfortunately. Just stay put and it’ll pass momentarily.” Both are lying ponyloaf, so even if… when, likely, Dandy pops wood, nopony will be able to see. The couch fortunately lacks any kind of nervous system, so he will at least not have to endure the feeling of an erection pressing against a part of him, even if his talent will unmercifully blast it into his brain either way.

“I… understand,” the duke sighs in a resigned tone.

“I have news for you when you are done,” Celestia interjects, dispelling the awkward silence .

“Oh? Go ahead, it’s not like you’ll distract me.”

The princess spares a moment to watch on as the duchess’s constitution visibly improves. Even without directly making cosmetic changes, the mare’s restored health is easily discernible. Cure normally does the cosmetic portion along with the deaging, but even without the former, the latter will gradually convey many of the same benefits as old, worn cells are rejuvenated.

“Very well. I received a missive from my nephew shortly before court adjourned.” He knows from the rabbit’s presence that she received dozens of messages throughout the morning, none of which he made any attempt to read, so it’s unsurprising that one of them was from Blueblood.

“Nothing bad, I assume?”

“No, not at all. I should be more clear, however. The message was from Blueblood the forty-sixth. He wishes to invite you to meet some of his friends tomorrow evening.”

“Golf? I remember he mentioned that last time.”

“No,” she denies, shaking her head. “At least not this time. The invitation is to the Ashwood Club. It is a recreational facility near their manor with tennis courts, a swimming pool, a restaurant, and a few other amenities.”

Dandy nods along, adding, “They recently added an interesting take on tennis. It’s an indoor version played with a bouncing rubber ball. Brim, our son, says it’s quite an energetic experience. Perhaps after today I shall take him up on a game.”

The colt bobs his head side to side weighing the invitation. “That sounds like fun, but I don’t want to ditch my mom the whole time we’re here.”

“If I may,” Elegant chimes in, “some lady friends of mine, along with many of our daughters, will be gathering for a wine tasting event at The Three Oaks Lounge that evening. I would be delighted if she could accompany us.” She nods to Celestia and offers, “It goes without saying that your majesty is always welcome to attend as well.”

“I do not -” the mare begins, cut off by the eager colt between her forelegs, “That would be perfect! That way my mom knows at least somepony there and it would be a good opportunity for you to make some friends!” Not giving her time to respond, he sits up and noses at her chin, adding, “Like you said, princess, you can never have too many. Are you busy Wednesday evening?”

“I… am not,” she reluctantly admits.

“Sweet! I’ll check with my ma ta be sure, but I bet she’d be down. I have a suggestion if yer interested,” he says, turning back to Duchess Dresser.

The mare looks nearly beside herself with joy and bobs her head eagerly.

“If the lounge has an outdoor area maybe you could arrange for everypony to step out for a moment at sundown. I can’t think of many ways to better greet the moon than with a well timed toast, after all.”

Author's Note

So I'm sure there's some questions about exactly what Cure is doing with these leaders. First off, he's making sure they are not changelings, obviously.

The idea of having everyone that enters the building scanned isn't something I initially planned, but it's very much in-character for Cure and has multiple benefits. He can watch for any major health issues, ensure that everyone that stops in is who they appear to be, and he can watch for anyone that stalwartly refuses to enter. He may not go against their wishes and scan them anyhow, but at least he'll be able to provide a list of potential infiltrators to the princess for further screening. He's also incentivizing them coming in by offering free food and drinks that are literally perfect; a lure that would almost certainly bring nearly every guard through the doors out of curiosity if nothing else.

Anyhow, as for the leaders, he is scanning them, fixing any major health issues, and doing a soft roll-back on their age. It's not the full cellular deaging treatment because you can't wholly separate that out from the cosmetic portion. After all, if your skin and hair are all deaged then you wouldn't have age spots or graying anymore. Think of it more like they are in the absolute best health someone at their age could possibly be, while specific parts of them - i.e. failing kidneys, a weakened heart, etc. - is fixed back up to perfect health. No more arthritis, no bad knees, failing eyesight, crap hearing, etc. While they will still age and degrade, they're certainly not going to suddenly kick the bucket anytime in the next few years, at least, which will give time for the folks in the lab to green light his aging treatment.

So yeah, he's doing the medically necessary stuff and a bit beyond that for these leaders to make sure that they're still kicking when the real treatment is finally approved. And no, it isn't a purely financial decision, even if that does play a part in it.

He is, after all, trying to disguise how much magic he has available even from the princess. He previously told her that he could deage a few ponies per hour, tops, so he doesn't want to clue her in that he's bypassed that limitation. Mainly because he's worried that she'll have an issue with him having a city-spanning underground plant capable of basically anything. Keep in mind that literally nobody - not even his parents - know about that. He only told them that he set up relays.

Moving on... the bit about the crop yields may raise a few eyebrows from you all, but just do a quick search about what an impact that has had over the millennia and you'll probably find that a 200% increase is likely on the low end. I would suggest that 2000% is probably more likely. If I'm reading this right we've seen almost a 1000% increase in corn yields per acre since 1866. Oh well, they've only had the seeds a couple months, so those numbers may change.

I figure I'll probably do 2 more chapters for this week, then only a couple for the competition at most. Maybe. We'll head back to Baltimare (hopefully) by this time next month and will probably move time forward a little faster from there.

As always, thanks for reading, rating, and, especially, commenting.

Enjoy!

Chapter 104: Commercial Opportunities

Wednesday, September 2nd, 909 AB (2 days later)
Just before sunrise

For the first time in five days, Cure comes to attention feeling well and fully rested. Waking up at three in the morning on Saturday for Junior Guard training deprived him of a few hours of additional sleep. Saturday night was a complete bust due to his overnight vigil on the train, and Sunday was little better due to the need to assimilate a portion of the nearby woods and construct his clinic.

Between the long span of wakefulness, the hours of hypervigilance, and the full day of seeing patients, the colt absolutely crashed Monday night, falling asleep on a couch in one of the many libraries. The pair had only just finished dinner a few minutes prior when he conked while lying against his mother’s side, much to the gushing, cooing delight of herself and the elder alicorn.

While he slept long and hard throughout the night, he still woke up Tuesday morning feeling like he got run over by a train, forcing him to rely on his talent to function adequately for the first couple hours of the day. The fog cleared soon enough, but that didn’t save him from feeling worn enough to retire early again that evening, all while assuring the princess and his mother that all was well.

Now, awake and feeling better than he has in days, Cure finds himself on his left side, wrapped in the protective cocoon of his mother’s legs and barrel. He extends his horn and channels his power, summoning a replacement plush doll to take his place. Amethyst stirs as he slips out of her embrace, but settles back down when Cure Weaved is volunteered as a substitute. A short “wakin up the boss” note is left on the pillow so she doesn’t wake up in a panic.

He pauses on his way out to reestablish his connection to his clinic and get all the processes up and running. A single ring is located inside his body, which opens to its mate laid in the building’s foundation. A horn inside the building flashes four times, depositing as many rings in the deepest plunge pool he could find on the side of the mountain.

As water begins streaming into the facility his talent activates to kill off any microbes or algae. Transmutation converts and inorganics present into water, thus ensuring that the numerous refreshments offered are made with the cleanest, most pure ingredients possible.

With preparations underway, he portions off a piece of the final ring into the body of a unique, but otherwise mundane bird; the perfect animal, in his opinion, to start making deliveries. Hedwig hops her way out the front door of his clinic and soon takes to the sky. The bright white owl draws plenty of attention soaring about on the castle’s well lit grounds, but curiosity wins out when she comes in for a landing and offers a small, rolled scroll to the nearest patrol; a notice that the buffet in the prince’s clinic is back up and running for the morning and an invitation to stop in and grab a bite when the opportunity presents itself.

Preparations complete, Cure conjures up a princess-sized mug of fragrant black tea that he levitates overhead. Though caught momentarily by surprise when the door opens, the guards in the hallway all quickly snap to attention. A short trot brings the colt to the princess’s door. The bright-eyed, chipper colt looks up at the smirking guards and asks, “Good mornin, all. Has Mrs. Primrose already been by already or is the boss lady still snoozin?”

He’s very much aware that he probably appears every bit as goofy as the lovestruck stallion from the other day, but playing the part of an overeager foal is as easy for him as it is useful. It probably doesn’t even matter if the colt’s convincing or not; ponies are generally accommodating to a fault already. That he’s a colt and, especially, an alicorn, means that there’s a very good chance a hopeful, earnest smile would get him through virtually any door, crown or no.

The pair trade knowing looks before the unicorn lights up her horn and pushes the door open. “Her majesty is sound asleep, sir!” Her smile widens dramatically and she waves to the open door. “Go on in! I’m sure she’ll be thrilled to see you!”

Cure chirps out a quick “Thanks!” and makes his way in, the cup of tea trailing just behind him. A trickle of power gathers in his horn illuminating the room in a soft golden glow as he makes his way to the raised dais upon which Celestia’s royal form lay prone.

Even in the soft illumination of his preadolescent horn the princess truly is a magnificent sight to behold. Despite her unconscious state, the ancient alicorn’s form radiates poise, elegance, and an intoxicating power. Laid upon her barrel, the mare’s neck rests on a princess-sized pillow held between her folded forelegs; her right crossing over her left at the fetlock to incline the pillow for her head. Her wings, normally folded and held tightly to her barrel, are fluffed out and relaxed, dangling tantalizingly by her sides. Her left hind leg is drawn up by her barrel while the right one is extended back, her unclad, ivory hoof barely hanging off the corner of the bed.

Even knowing the servants will be there to wake her at any moment, it takes every miniscule shred of willpower not to climb up on the bed, nose his way into the white, feathery heaven, and slide right back into sleep’s embrace. While he’s confident she wouldn’t mind at all, somepony’s bed, especially while they are in it, is sacred ground not to be intruded upon without invitation.

Cure sucks in a deep breath and shakes his head in an attempt to dispel the temptation of snuggling with the princess, and instead circles around to where her snout is less than a hoof’s span away from the edge. Lowering the tea into position, he has to hold back a giggle when her nose starts to dance at the aromatic offering.

“Oh, Princess Celestiiiiaa~” he cheerfully croons. “Time to rise and shine, my not so little pony!”

The mare’s barrel expands with a deep inhalation as she sucks in the rousing steam emanating from the colt’s paltry tribute. A low hum precedes a truly gargantuan yawn, treating the colt to a front row view of the mare’s large, pearly teeth.

A single magenta eye reluctantly slits open, focusing first on the source of the intrusive light. The colt tilts his head one way then the other, giggling foalishly when she remains otherwise still, tracking his horn with her barely open eye. He withdraws his magic, allowing the predawn darkness to reclaim the room.

“You awake enough for some tea, there, sleepyhead?”

An indecipherable grunt is the mare’s response.

“That sounded like some kind of maybe,” he teases. He lifts the mug higher so her muzzle isn’t in the way of her horn’s aura. “Here, Tia, I brought you a little pick-me-up. Don’t worry, I didn’t do anything weird. It’s just black tea with a tiny hint of blueberry and lemon in it. If ya don’t like it -” his words are cut off when her magic intermingles with his own, gently prying the drink from his grasp.

Shifting slightly and repositioning her left hind leg back, Celestia inclines her head and brings the beverage to her lips, sipping at first before all but pouring it in her gullet. The colt watches on with one raised brow as the mare’s throat muscles contract, sending a steady stream of caffeinated bliss directly into her stomach.

“ … Well then. Never mind.” It only takes seconds for her to drain the mug before she sets it on her nightstand, smacking her lips in satisfaction. “Feel better, boss?”

Any further words are mercilessly banished from the colt’s mind when the mare stretches all six limbs in every direction. The full, divine span of her glorious wings spread wide; her left wing pushing against the wall above the headboard and rolling her to her right. Her hind legs reach back, knees fully extended and fetlocks curled up. Even her tail seems to go rigid, extending straight out and slightly up.

The sight is enough to cause a stir in even his prepubescent mind as he drinks in her form, committing to memory the view of every visible muscle on her body straining all at once. He barely manages to pick his jaw up off the floor before the moment ends, schooling his features back to only show mild amusement as the mare relaxes limp on the bed, her wings disappointingly folding back into place on her sides.

“So… that’s a yes?” he teasingly asks.

Eyes still closed, she almost imperceptibly nods her head. A soft mumble escapes her lips too quietly for him to decipher.

“Sorry, didn’t catch that,” he admits, leaning in closer to her muzzle.

Another murmur into her pillow is once again missed.

The colt rolls his eyes, rearing up to set his forehooves on the bed so he’s even with her face. “Yer chewin on yer pillow, boss. Do ya want another?”

Her left eye cracks open again and she opens her mouth to whisper, clearly enunciating, “I said something is missing.”

“Missing?”

“Mmhmm.”

“What’s missing? Sugar? You don’t norm- ACK!”

Two hooves lance out, wrapping around his sides and pulling him up on the bed. The mare rolls supine, her head inclined and propped up on her pillow. The colt only has a disorienting moment to think before he finds himself slammed into her chest, trapped between her forelegs thighs and hugged tightly by luxurious feathers.

The spike of adrenaline fades, banished by the suffusing warmth of her body. He buries his snout in her soft fluff and inhales deeply, drinking in her scent and burrowing into the valley of her pectorals; the forbidden valley normally hidden by her villainous regalia.

“Better,” she quietly declares.

He can’t help but nod in agreement. “As much as I’m down for a good cuddle, you do know what time it is, don’t you?”

Her chest deflates as she blows out a dejected sigh.

“Poor Tia, never gets to sleep in.”

She lets out a pouty whine.

“Just out of curiosity, what would happen if you had somepony else raise the sun for you?”

“That is my duty, Cure. You know that,” is her soft reply.

“Uh huh. Captain Shield has a duty too, right?”

Her head turns to the right so she can look down at him and meet his eyes with one of her own.

“And if, in theory, she caught some kind of bad cold and simply could not fulfill her duty, what would happen?”

She frowns.

“I would assume, then, that Lieutenant Spear would step in and cover for her until she’s able to resume her duties, right?”

The frown deepens.

“Now here’s the part I don’t quite get,” he continues, tone full of faux confusion. “As important as the good captain’s job is, she has a lieutenant and, presumably, others that can fill in should the need arise. Yet for some unfathomable reason, if the mare that, quite literally, controls the very sun that sustains the world is indisposed… then what?” he wonders aloud, his breath tickling the fur of her neck.

She huffs in mock annoyance causing the colt’s chin to bounce against her.

“I guess we’d all just have to resign ourselves to freezing to death while the other half of the planet boils into some scorched hellscape,” he posits in a bored tone. “Or maybe a few thousand survivors will be able to eke out some semblance of a living on the slim piece of land halfway between the sun and moon. Assuming that falls on land, at least. Otherwise we’re just screwed, I reckon. Unless I turn everypony into some kinda fish pony hybrid, I suppose.”

A beat of silence passes between the two.

“Are you done?”

“I dunno, boss. Is that what you want for the future of your little ponies? Scraping and skimping, barely surviving on a thin stretch of the planet trapped between eternal day and eternal night? If that’s Plan A, or, I suppose, Plan ‘Only,’ then yeah. I’m done. That is, unless you have some kinda useful input you’d like to share with the class.”

“You are terrible at snuggling.”

An accusing hoof thrusts in her direction. “You take that back! I’m a fantastic snuggler! I’m certified and everything!”

“Certified?” she questions with a chuckle.

A scroll flashes into existence above his head. His horn lights up, illuminating it as it unfurls.

“It’s all right there, boss. Certified snuggler, triple-S ranked. Doctorate in both Snuggleography and Snuggleology.”

“I see. Curiosity compels me to question why it says pending at the bottom.”

The colt curls a forehoof in agitation, gently thumping the side of his fetlock against her chest. “Those jerks in charge of the school are ageist, that’s why! They won’t issue me my finalized license ‘till I grow up a little, they say. ‘Can’t properly snuggle ‘till yer at least as big as the snuggle-ee,’” he mocks in a nasally voice. “The morons have no clue I can be as big as the situation calls for,” he grouses.

Celestia analyzes the colt’s face looking for any sign that the double entendre was intentional. He meets her gaze with one of complete innocence. Another sigh escapes her as she lays her head back.

“As… fascinating as that is, I am assuming you came to wake me for a reason.”

“You bet, boss,” he eagerly nods into her fluff. Softy, the colt makes his request. “I was wonderin if you’d be fine with me joinin ya this mornin. It’s kinda funny given everything I can do, but somehow… that always feels more magical than anything.”

The mare smiles radiantly and nods in response. “You are always welcome to join me, Cure. Would Mrs. Blossom care to attend as well?”

“Dunno. She’s sound asleep. How ‘bout we ask her at breakfast and, if she’s up for it, both figuratively and literally, she can join in tomorrow?”

“Very well. If you are prepared, I can teleport us to the tower balcony.”

“Sure. You don’t want to just do it here?” The mare once again sits up to meet the colt’s eyes, wondering if that one was intentional as well. He cocks a brow in question at the odd look which she dismisses with a shake of her head. Power swells in her horn for the briefest instant before their surroundings flash. Her foreleg still wrapped around his back, the mare’s wings shoot out to arrest their brief fall as they drift gently to the balcony’s surface.

Sat on her haunches, Celestia turns the colt in her grip, holding his back to her chest with her left foreleg under his rump and her right underneath his forelegs.

“One sec, boss,” he calls, giving the elder alicorn pause. “I gotta get rid of my crystals.” The princess blows out a long breath and rolls her eyes as the colt’s horn flashes several times in rapid succession.

It’s almost uncomfortable the way he feels well and truly naked without his typical armaments, but given his position being held in her forelegs he figures he should be plenty safe enough for the time being. With everything stowed away, he withdraws the deactivated portal ring to his building and levitates it outside of the ritual circle. “All set!”

“Really, Cure, is all of that truly necessary?”

“Maybe? I dunno. When I’m older? Definitely not, but I’m worried I’ll get caught in a situation without them at some point and somepony’ll get hurt if I’m not prepared. Tell me there’s not at least one or two times in your life where a well timed shield, teleport, or attack spell would have been really convenient to have.”

The mare deflates slightly and begrudgingly nods her head. “I suppose I cannot dispute that, but those were far more dangerous times.”

“Uh huh. And I’m sure the Matobo Tribe is only going to be interested in having a sit down with tea and crumpets.”

A throaty growl escapes the mare and she grumbles, “I knew you would fixate on that as soon as he said it.”

“I’d be kinda peeved if you knew about a potential threat and didn’t tell me, boss. Don’t worry; it doesn’t change much. It’s not like I can get any more paranoid anyhow.”

“I should hope not,” she quickly agrees.

He looks up to give her a wholly unrepentant smirk. “So… you gonna do this thing or not? I ain’t got all day, ya know?”

Her right foreleg tightens, giving the nuisance a small squeeze. “Quiet, you.”

Ignoring his pouty look, the mare inclines her head and slightly unfurls her wings. Cure picks up on the change immediately, relaxing into her grip and concentrating on the feeling of dense magic washing over him. Celestia’s entire form glows golden as she calls upon the full might of her power to push against the heavenly body, guiding it gently over the western horizon and casting the land in pitch black.

Cure is somewhat surprised and delighted when Celestia chooses to use the ritual circle to raise the sun rather than rely on only her special talent. He knows she is doing it only for his benefit; likely the same reason she brought them to the south facing tower. The tug from the east draws his attention as joyous, comforting heat soaks through his coat and fills every part of him. The golden streaks of dawn spill over the horizon, flowing down the Canterhorn like a waterfall of light as the sun climbs into the sky.

The great alicorn’s power recedes, withdrawing from the circle and back into her mortal form. As one the two draw in a deep breath, holding it only for a moment before blowing out. He looks up with a beaming smile. She looks down and meets it with her own.

“Good morning, Celestia,” he softly calls.

“And a wonderful morning to you, too, Cure Wave.”

Amethyst regards the copy of her disguised self staring back at her from her son’s bed unable to keep the anxiety off her face while conversing with the duplicate. “I swear, colt, I ain’t ever gonna get used ta that.”

A look of sympathy crosses the puppet’s features as it nods in acceptance. “I know, ma,” it says in her own voice. “Everypony seems to get pretty freaked out when they see their own doppelganger. I mean, I get it,” she assures her with a helpless shrug, “but there’s no reason to let it bother ya.”

She shoots the puppet a disbelieving look and belts out a doubtful snort. “My nine year old son’s wearin my skin like a Nightmare Night costume. Seems ta me that there’s a right proper reason ta be a tad bothered.”

“Eh, fair enough. Either way, my other puppet is in position. You ready?” She blows out a sigh and nods in acceptance, bracing herself for the transition. “It’ll be three hops, ma. Bend your knees a little and close your eyes. I’ll patch ya up between Teleports, okay?”

“Why can’t I just take a carriage?” she petulantly whines.

“You could have if you’d said you didn’t want to do it this way an hour ago. Now there’s no time. Carriages suck anyhow. Why would you want to spend forty minutes stuck in a fuckin hotbox in Canterlot traffic when you can travel all the way across town in under a minute?”

“Them carriages got coolin enchantments!” she argues, thrusting her right hoof towards the windows overlooking the castle courtyard.

“Again, there’s no friggin time, ma! Our appointment is in five minutes! Are you ready or not?”

“Fine!” the mare growls, stamping a forehoof angrily on the floor.

“Look, you’ll be fine. If you really don’t want to do this I could just send a puppet,” said puppet presses a hoof against her own chest, “and you can go back to doing whatever you want. Just pass me the saddlebags and I’ll take care of everything.”

“No,” she sighs, shaking her head in dismissal. “It’s the whole reason I came, after all.”

“I know, and I kept telling you I could have just done that the whole freakin time.”

“Uh huh, with the princess knowin dern well I never left Golden Hills?”

The clone shrugs, arguing, “Do you think she’d actually step in to intervene? I think the boss lady has more important shit to worry about, ma.”

“Okay, okay. Yer absolutely sure nopony can detect ya, right?”

“If they can, they haven’t said anything yet, ma. I’ve been teleporting shit in and out of the castle since we got here. You remember the cake I teleported in just the other day, right? That went straight into the middle of the castle, no problem.”

“Oh yeah. Alright. Fire away, colt.”

“Close yer eyes and relax your knees, ma. Don’t forget that the first jump is going to be to a cloud. Going in three. Two. One.”

Despite being able to see the flash even through her eyelids, Amethyst is grateful for the warning when she rematerializes in the open sky under Celestia’s sun. Even with her coat changed to white she can feel the warmth beating down on her from above as she falls a fraction of a centimeter onto a soft, cloudy surface. It takes a couple blinks to adjust to the transition from the colt’s royal bedroom to outdoors, but before she can even regain her focus the mild queasiness that comes with teleporting is soothed away.

“You may not want to open yer eyes, ma. We’re pretty high up.” No further instruction needs to be given; the mare instantly collapses to her barrel and pinches her eyes shut. The wind flowing through her coat tells her plenty, and the brief moment of looking at the wide-open sky is more than enough. “Going in three, momma. Don’t worry, you’re perfectly safe.”

Amethyst mentally braces and another flash soon follows, this time planting her on a gravel roof. She exhales a sigh of relief as the colt’s magic once again washes over her. The cycle repeats once more before the mare pops into existence off to the side of a busy street in the business district to the southwest. Numerous heads swivel in the pair’s direction from the flash of light, but aside from a couple curious stares, no doubt wondering why a -now- unicorn colt is teleporting an earth pony mare around, nopony pays them any mind other than some curious glances.

“Urg… teleporting and heights. Ya sure know how’ta show a mare a good time, colt.”

“Oh please, you could get used to both of those if ya put in a little effort,” he chides, washing away any lingering discomfort at the same time. “Now come on or we’re gonna be late. And don’t forget, I’m still seeing patients, so cover for me if I drift off a bit.”

Amethyst grunts her acknowledgement as the pair exit the alley and trot into the office. She does a double-take when she notices the colt’s horn disappear and both of their colors change between one step and another while crossing the threshold. The building is a larger office complex with a number of companies operating out of it. Cure quickly makes his way to the directory posted on the wall, locating the correct office after only a moment. They make their way up the stairs and down a short hallway to the firm’s offices and step inside.

As soon as they close the door behind themselves the receptionist, a light green pegasus, looks up and calls out, “Good afternoon and welcome to Grant, Best, and Bookshire, how may I assist you?” in a voice that might as well have been stolen straight from Janine from Ghostbusters.

“Afternoon, ma’am,” Amethyst greets the older mare. “The colt ‘n I got a two a’clock with Mr. Grant. Amethyst Blossom and Cure Wave,” she says, sliding a folder with their paperwork across the desk as well as a short stack of bits to cover the consultation. “Y’all can keep the copies.”

She spends a moment over the marriage license and birth certificate before nodding in acceptance. She slides the duplicates into her own file folder, passes the originals back, slides the bits through a slot in one of the drawers of her desk, then nods off to the side where a row of couches is sat against the wall. “Go ahead and have a seat over there. I’ll let Mr. Grant know you’re here.”

Amethyst no more than climbs on a couch before the colt’s half climbed on her side, resting his chin in her mane. They pass the brief wait in silence, content to snuggle until the door with “Certain Grant, Esq.” cracks open. The unicorn that pokes his head out the door has a light gray coat, a bright blue mane, and a beard, mustache combo that reminds Cure of the bad guy from the Sherlock Holmes movies, instantly setting the colt on edge. “Missus Blossom? Mister Wave? Come right this way,” he beckons with a wave.

They hop down and follow the stallion in, Cure pushing the door with his right hind hoof until it clicks shut. Every ounce of wood in the lawyer’s office is a deep red mahogany polished to perfection. The few shelves not lined in books are covered with a variety of nautical instruments and model ships. The desk the stallion sits behind is covered by a large, black blotter and has, from the angled glimpse the colt catches, a black and white portrait of the stallion’s family on it.

Cure and Amethyst each hop up and settle on their haunches in oddly human-like chairs opposite him as he begins to speak. “Good afternoon,” he begins in a rich, deep voice. “I understand you were referred to our offices by another firm. Ace, Hardwick, and Rose, if I’m not mistaken.”

“That’s right,” Cure confirms. “Ms. Rose said they don’t really do patent or commercial law much. She said your firm would be better for that stuff.”

“Indeed,” he agrees with a shallow nod. “From the correspondence in which your… sire?”

“Uh huh.”

“... requested this meeting, you wished to speak to our firm regarding some manner of invention.”

“Exactly!”

“And you, young mister, are the inventor?”

“You bet. I’ve got a bunch of ideas, but I’m startin small, in a way. While not physically large at all, my idea’s gonna change the world.”

A single amused brow delicately climbs up the stallion’s brow. “You don’t say?”

“Darn right I … uhh… do, in fact, say!”

The older stallion chuckles warmly. “Ah, the enthusiasm of youth. While I certainly do not wish to dash your hopes upon the rocks, many a young foal is under the impression that they will become the next Scrooge McBuck or J.D. Hockefeller. While a worthwhile invention can earn you a fair few bits, it is important to keep one’s expectations realistic.”

“Sure, okay,” the colt agrees, bobbing his head in acceptance. “Just out of curiosity, how do you get paid? It’s not a percentage thing, is it?”

“That is one option,” the stallion stresses, “however that is not typically how we operate. If somepony lacks the funds to pay our flat fee they may, if we deem their invention likely to find success, compensate our firm with a modest percentage. Is that an avenue you wish to explore?”

“I’d much rather pay you a flat fee if that’s an option,” he declines. “How much are we talkin here?”

Grant’s eyes briefly flick to Amethyst who, strangely, seems content to let her son do all of the talking. He feels the tugging of a grin forcing its way onto his muzzle despite his attempts to remain professional. It is always a pleasure to find a young stallion so eager to make his mark on the world, after all.

“It is difficult to say, unfortunately. First, a significant amount of research must be conducted to ensure that your idea meets the criteria required to be issued a patent, then even more must be done to confirm the idea has not been patented already at some point in the past.

“There’s fees associated with documentation, technical drawing, and assembling the patent packet all leading up to the initial filing. From there the cost could increase significantly if there is a need for us to petition the patent office should they find some flaw or overlap with another product. I could give you a rough estimate if everything were to go flawlessly, but such a thing is a rarity indeed.”

“Eh, good enough. Just ballpark it for me.”

“Ball…park?”

“Yeah, rough estimate. Let’s say everything does go flawlessly like you said. We talkin fifty bits, five hundred, a thousand, ten thousand, or what?”

A barked laugh escapes the stallion as he shakes his head no. “Certainly not the latter, though likely somewhere between the middle two. I do hope that does not exceed your planned budget?”

“Nah, a grand or two isn’t a problem,” he assures the attorney. “I’ll make way more than that every week once these get sellin anyhow. I’m pretty sure I have a multi-million bit idea, mister.”

“I certainly hope you do,” he says, humoring the colt. “Well, young stallion,” he waves a hoof to go ahead, “let us see what you have.”

“You bet, mister! Lemme ask ya this first, how many quills do you go through on a daily basis?”

Grant inclines his head in thought before shrugging. “Before I started using a fountain pen and on a busy day, I might perhaps split… three? Four? I presume your invention is some sort of writing instrument?”

“Exactly!” Cure answers, bouncing in his chair. “Show ‘em, ma!”

Amethyst dutifully reaches in her saddlebag and withdraws two simple, rectangular paper boxes and sets them on the lawyer’s desk with a rattle.

Grant quirks a brow at the colorful, exceedingly well designed yellow and black graphics strewn about the packages, assuring the contents write smooth and leave no blotches behind. He levitates one box and, after a moment’s inspection, finds the end of the box folded into itself. “Unusual that you’ve already consulted somepony in marketing. I do hope nopony attempts to steal the idea before you’ve come to me.”

“Colt did all’a that himself,” Amethyst assures the stallion. “Used his special talent ta make ‘em all an’ do up the boxes.”

“Ah. Interesting,” he murmurs, withdrawing one of the items from the box; a solid aluminum ballpoint pen with a button on its top to extend or withdraw the tip. “It looks more like a metal pencil than a pen.”

“I’m calling them ‘ballpoint pens’ ‘cause of how they work. Each box has four black, four blue, and four red. That one you have right there is the thicker of the pair at one millimeter, but the other has a finer point; it’ll leave a line behind that’s seven tenths of a millimeter across. Go on and give it a whirl. Just click the end to extend the writing tip, then you’ll probably have to give it a little scribble first to get the ink running. You’ll only need to do that the first time you use it or if you leave it sittin too long.”

Now genuinely curious, the stallion levitates a pad of paper out of his desk and sets it on top. He depresses the plunger on the back, smiling faintly when it gives a satisfying metallic click. First he scribbles a few lines in the corner until the ink starts flowing, then he writes out a sentence on the pad, eyes widening as the letters flow out of the pen almost like magic. The first pen is set aside and a second, this one in blue, is immediately withdrawn and tested as well. The stallion doesn’t stop there, opening the other box and writing a few words to compare the thickness of the lines.

Once he stops writing, he turns the pen around and floats a magnifying glass out of his drawer, studying the tip of the pen in detail. “Ah. I believe I see the ball.” He looks to Cure and asks, “You made these yourself with your talent?”

“Sure did. It wasn’t a once-and-done process, lemme tell you. First I hadta come up with the basic design, then I spent a lot of time making the little ball and its socket thingy just right. Don’t even get me started on the friggin clicker! Figuring that out was a pain in the plot, lemme tell ya. The ink is special too; it’s a bit thicker than what you’ve got in that pot there,” he says, motioning to the inkpot sitting on the corner of the stallion’s blotter. “All told, I went through fourteen major revisions and who-knows-how many minor ones before I got it all workin right.”

“That’s… amazing! Have you taken the time to draw out a schematic of some sort? Proper documentation is…” he drifts off when Cure turns to his mother and makes the “gimme” motion with his forehooves. The mare rolls her eyes, but once again goes digging in her saddlebag, withdrawing a rolled up paper that is far wider than the pack is deep.

The casual use of a compressed bag of that size along with the colt’s easy acceptance of the firm’s fees confirms that the two ponies across the desk from him, despite the mare’s uneducated manner of speaking, are not some simple-minded earth ponies to take advantage of. He is suddenly relieved that he accepted Moon Rose’s suggestion that he treat the colt and his family, which initially seemed like an odd way to phrase it, with the utmost respect.

Igniting his horn, he quickly moves everything on his desk out of the way as the foal sits up and unfurls the scroll, leaning forward and resting a hoof on the edge of his desk to lay out the precisely drawn schematic. He’s taken aback at the professionalism of the drawing which shows the assembled whole along with a fully disassembled diagram with each part depicted in painstaking detail and labeled.

“Amazing, I say again! Simply amazing, young stallion!” he energetically declares. “I’m a little unsure of the name, however,” he hesitates. “Typically products omit the revision number from their names. I suppose that can be something you revisit should we find success, however.”

“Eh, I’m pretty committed to it if we can manage to get it through.”

Grant shrugs noncommittally and bobs his head in acceptance. “Very well then. We - your mother and I, that is - have some paperwork that we must complete first, then I will collect the initial payment for the first few steps of the process. We will begin the process of investigation first thing tomorrow morning and, with a little luck, send word of our success within the next month, give or take.”

“Awesome!” Cure cheers, extending a forehoof over the desk for a bump. “I look forward to the good news, Mister Grant. And if everything goes well, you’ll be amongst the very first owners of a box of Ballpoint Pen Fifteens!”

Early evening

The door no more than swings open on his carriage before Cure hears Blueblood Junior’s high pitched call of “Prince Serpentus!” ringing out. While the show’s depiction of the future Blueblood is thus far inaccurate, the slightly whiny, grating voice has, unfortunately, not been terribly far off.

The young alicorn had been stumped at what to wear initially. He’d first considered just going au naturale, but it’s barely been two months since the coronation, so he’s not eager to give up the game that quickly. Unwilling to spend a lot of time on a rather unimportant detail, Cure ultimately donned his typical golden flight suit, kept his emerald-imbued tracking regalia, but left his crown and shoes behind.

He climbs down off his bench and out of the carriage, giving his trio of guards a grateful nod as he passes. A dozen other palace guards in standard attire will see to his carriage and await his return, a horrible waste of ponypower in his opinion, even if it is standard operating procedure. It once again strikes the colt as a little ridiculous that the only two beings on the planet that are, allegedly, unkillable are also amongst the most heavily guarded. Appearances must be kept, he supposes, and at least now the squad accompanying Junior will have another squad to alternate shifts with.

The older colt is waving merrily as Cure makes his way up to the facility’s entrance. He isn’t alone, either; standing just behind the older royal is a pair of fillies that Cure estimates to be about Junior’s age. Unsurprisingly, both are unicorns, and neither is anypony he recognizes. The taller and, likely, elder of the pair has a very light powder pink coat and a darker, orchid purple mane. The younger has similar colors to Rising, though her yellow fur has more of a golden lustre reminiscent of Duchess Suncrest’s magnificent coat.

Far from the typical gymnasium or community center from his memories, every aspect of the Ashwood Club screams privileged. The entire perimeter is surrounded by a red brick wall that looks to be about a meter tall with a wrought iron fence - or perhaps wrought gold fence - rising from the brick. Cure is relatively certain it isn’t really gold; likely steel with its color magically altered, but the visual effect is still the same. Everypony within the club’s walls is elite in a way that places them above even the very well-to-do neighbors living nearby.

Even the gate is over the top; the two-carriage-wide double golden gates are mared by a half dozen private security ponies. They appear to take their jobs very seriously, too. Despite being in a clearly marked carriage from the Royal Castle and escorted by fifteen guards, they still held his entourage up for a moment while verifying that His Highness, Prince Serpentus is on the approved guestlist for the day.

It’s the first time in his royal guise that anypony anywhere has ever come close to saying “no” to the colt and he was legitimately unsure if he should be offended or impressed by their commitment to their job. He’s leaning more towards the latter simply out of concern that he may be letting his ego get the better of him.

From the gate onto the grounds stretches an incredibly smooth-riding red brick road, the outer edges and middle stripes denoted by lines of golden bricks instead. The road ends in a circle, the middle of which has a chest height, for an adult, hedge surrounding a fountain. A carriage house is off to the left, in front of and to the west of the main building’s entrance along with a building Cure can’t immediately discern the purpose of. Perhaps a break room for the employees who would normally be responsible for parking the rides of the, relatively speaking, normal visitors.

The facility itself looks more like a mansion than a recreational facility. Though the stairs leading up to it are a light gray cement, the three visible buildings that make up the club are the same colored red bricks that make up the street and surrounding barrier. A pair of doorponies stand beside the single, five meter tall double-door entrance, watching on placidly as Cure approaches Junior and his three Royal Guards with his own squad trailing.

“There he is,” Junior loudly declares, stepping forwards to give the colt a hoof bump, “the stallion of the year! Prince Serpentus, it would be my greatest pleasure to introduce two of the loveliest fillies you will ever meet,” he continues, stepping to his right and waving with his left foreleg as he turns to face the pair.

He motions to the pink filly and introduces, “The magnificent jewel Rose Quartz and her ever radiant cousin Glistening Fall. Ladies, the one, the only, His Highness, Prince Serpentus,” he finishes, dropping into an overly formal bow. The girls must not have been in on the joke because they both nervously look between the prostrate colt and distinctly unamused alicorn wondering if they are supposed to bow as well.

“Dude. Seriously?” he huffs in exaggerated annoyance.

“I jest, I jest!” Blueblood assures him, rising out of his bow. “Apologies, Serpentus, I simply could not resist the urge to raz you a little. The discomfort with which you receive such gestures amuses me greatly.”

“Uh huh. Well I’m glad you got it out of your system.” He turns to face the two fillies, suddenly feeling slightly out of place with the older, taller foals. Even with his greater earth pony stature, he has yet to truly start growing whereas all three of the others are well into their pubescent years, granting them almost the same height as a full grown adult, though they are still slightly gangly compared to a completely matured pony. “Ladies,” he bobs his head in a shallow bow, “it’s a pleasure to make your acquaintance. As I’m off duty and unadorned, mostly,” he quickly amends, tapping his golden collar, “there is no need for formality. Serpentus will do just fine.”

“Very well,” Rose begins, hesitating slightly, “Serpentus. It is wonderful to meet you. I’ve never met a real alicorn before,” she nervously adds.

“Of course you haven’t,” Glistening Fall chides, “there are only two, after all. A pleasure, your highness,” she returns with a nod.

“Yeah, there’s not enough of us to go around. So,” he gestures towards the door, “what’s the plan for today? I’ve obviously never been here.”

“You will absolutely love it, I assure you!” Fall enthusiastically exclaims as she nods to the doorponies. As one the pair turn to face each other, ignite their horns, and take one step back to pull the doors open, smoothly dropping into bows towards the entrance as they move. “My great many-times-over granddam spared no expense when she created the Ashwood,” she begins, waving a forehoof in invitation.

The small herd follows her into a grand lobby as she continues, “It began as a gathering hall for social events, which we still host quite often. The elite of the city desired a place to relax and enjoy themselves in all ways, including athletics. The tennis courts were first added in 797, giving the nobility a private venue to explore the sport.”

They continue past the front desk set off to the right side, taking in the room that reminds Cure very much of a high end hotel lobby. Thick, dark blue carpeting makes up the floor leading to a large, currently unlit fireplace in the center of the room surrounded by several couches. A wide, wooden staircase in deep maple is to the left leading up to the second floor, upon which several adults are conversing while overlooking the front half of the lobby.

Though a number of heads have turned in the herd’s direction, specifically observing the colt himself, very few are openly gawking as he has become accustomed to. He still picks up on quiet whispers about the alicorn’s presence, but they lack the usual reverent tone that he’s come to expect. Some are downright derisive, flat out asking why “one of them” has been allowed in the facility.

Uncaring or, more likely, unaware of the whispers, Glistening Fall continues, “Swimming and wading pools were added only a few years later to great success. Many of the lesser-used auditoriums have been converted over the years to facilitate all manner of entertainment including shuffleboard, billiards, indoor tennis, and less physically demanding activities such as chess, backgammon, and all manner of card game. In fact, the annual Canterlot Poker League’s championship was hosted here just six weeks ago.”

“Huh. Neat. I didn’t even know such a thing existed.”

“It’s a very popular event lasting several days.” The girl’s snout crinkles as she complains, “Unfortunately it is for adults only, and thus far my parents have declined my suggestion to establish a youth’s league. ‘Foals should not be encouraged to gamble,’ they argue.”

“I can’t completely fault them,” Cure gently admits. “I’ve not seen gambling addiction specifically. At least, not that I’m aware of. Still, I have had to deal with a few other forms of addiction at the hospital and it’s not a pretty sight.”

“I was unaware one could become addicted to gambling,” Junior comments. “How would that work, exactly?”

“The same as any other addiction, I would guess,” Cure answers. “Chemicals are released in the brain bringing pleasure during an act, be it taking drugs, winning at a sport, drinking, or, of course, gambling. The pleasure derived becomes intrinsically linked to the act that stimulated the brain, thus prompting the pony to repeat the process again and again.”

All three slow their stroll listening as he continues, “As with many other chemicals, the gambler, in this example, builds an immunity of a sort, requiring that they intensify the act triggering the chemical release. Greater risks, greater rewards, greater losses, and greater stimulation, all leading to a downward spiral.

“Of course, that’s simply the model by which it can happen; rolling the dice once certainly won’t automatically make you want to risk your family’s estate or anything, but with youths in particular our brains are still developing, still ‘learning’ for lack of a better word. That means anypony under about eighteen is highly susceptible to starting on that path.

“Truthfully, the real number is likely several years older before we’re somewhat less vulnerable to addiction and, as with any sample, there will be some that are far more or less prone to fall into that cycle regardless of their age.”

The three trade shocked looks at the unexpected miniature lecture, falling into a somewhat awkward silence as they more sedately make their way through the facility. Junior clears his throat to dispel the quiet. “That… was a rather more insightful answer than I had anticipated. I suppose I should have expected that given your talent.”

“That was brilliant!” Rose quickly agrees.

“It was indeed,” Fall seconds, “though I would ask that you not repeat that should you happen upon my parents. I fear they may never allow me to participate should they hear your opinion on the subject.”

“Fair enough,” he easily agrees, noting how the young mare is leading them to the doors exiting out the back of the facility. In the distance, and slightly to the left, are a number of fenced in tennis courts that he presumes is their ultimate destination. “I take it we’re headed out to the tennis courts?” he speculatively ventures.

“We are indeed,” Junior confirms. “Have you ever played before?”

“Can’t say that I have,” he denies with a shake of his head. “I know the rules and scoring, but I’ve never actually played.”

He can’t help but notice the mischievous smiles that the three older foals trade. Rose gives him a gentle bump on his left with her foreleg and assures him, “Don’t worry; we’ll be sure to take it easy on you, your highness.”

“Very well,” he agrees with a nod. “I place myself at your mercy, madame.”

From their quiet snickers, Cure can only assume they plan on giving him a hard time. For his part, he can hardly wait to give the game a try; Edward never played competitively, but he was a fair hand at the game nonetheless. He and several of his friends during his teenage years used to ride their bikes to a nearby park and play during the summer on days that weren’t completely miserably hot.

It’s only a few minutes later when they find a court that he’s certain was set up specifically for the group’s use. A small crowd of onlookers are watching both from balconies overlooking the courts as well as benches placed underneath trees providing shade along the walkways that wind throughout the grounds. Not only are there scores of bystanding observers, there’s also numerous staff members in attendance, rushing to and fro to retrieve balls and offer cooled refreshments to the other players.

“What are the teams?” he asks as they pass through the fence’s gate. Each court is segregated so that nopony interferes with each other. To the colt’s surprise, an enchantment activates upon the gate’s closing. He feels the tingle of magic wash over the court and instantly notes the complete cessation of any flowing wind. His initial worry about feeling the heat more significantly is dispelled when the air noticeably begins dropping in temperature at the same time.

“Colts versus fillies?” Blueblood instantly suggests.

Glistening smirks at the white stallion, teasing, “A future and current prince against two helpless damsels? That hardly seems fair.”

“Helpless damsels?” Rose scoffs. “His highness has never played before. It should be the three of us against you alone, you utterly ridiculous nightmare.”

Cure cuts off the argument before it can get started. “I’m fine with Vladimir and myself on a team. We can always rotate after a set or two. Just one question… where are the rackets?”

All three affix the colt with a stare of complete confusion. Realization dawns on Junior’s face first and he snorts out a laugh. “Right, right. You were an earth pony. Apologies, Serpentus, but we play by unicorn rules here,” he explains, waving to players on other courts. Cure takes another look, noting how the rackets they are using are all different colors. A tingle of worry creeps down his spine at the realization as Junior’s horn lights up and a deep blue racket-shaped forcefield panel pops into existence just above his head.

“Ohhhhhhhh…” he drawls with steadily climbing horror. “Fudgesickles. This is gonna suuuck.”

“You… have only had a horn for a couple months, haven’t you?” Junior rhetorically inquires. “Perhaps we should make an exception for you, then?”

Cure shuffles anxiously on his hooves at the suggestion. “I’m not sure. I have been practicing with it a lot, but not so much that I can probably compete with somepony that’s had one since birth. I can try for a game or two and see how it goes. The problem is that if I use a real racket I’ll probably mop the floor with ya.”

“Oh?” Fall questions, eagerness plain in her tone. “I should very much like to see that. You!” she hollers, pointing a hoof at one of the many nearby attendants. “Fetch a racket for his highness at once!”

The stallion nods and takes off like a fired bolt, nearly galloping to a small equipment hut nearby. He emerges only a moment later with five rackets carried in his aura, rushing back through the fence and offering them for the colt’s inspection. As far as Cure can tell, they’re all completely identical, making the selection a moot point. He extends his right wing and pinches the nearest one between two feathers, plucking it out of the stallion’s aura and giving it a few test swings.

The act seemingly captivates Glistening who stares at his extended wing with rapt attention. The barely whispered “magnificent” escapes her lips, earning a nudge from her less enthralled teammate. Cure doesn’t betray that he overheard her quiet murmur, agilely passing the racket back and forth between extended wings to get a feel for swinging with one or the other.

It becomes quickly apparent that he would have to show off some abilities that are likely beyond a normal pegasus to execute the move, and will instead have to use a backwing stroke to return a ball coming in on his left. Though he, as are most pegasi, is fully ambidextrous with his wings, the shuffling of the racket from one to the other is simply not quick enough to pull off in time to return a fast moving serve.

The fillies retire to their side of the net while he is familiarizing himself with the motions. He ends up on the right side of the court awaiting Glistening’s serve. “We’ll do some light volleys to warm up,” she calls in a raised voice.

At his agreeing nod, she drops a ball and swings her forcefield racket in a well-practiced arc, sending the projectile on a quick, but easily managed course. Cure lets it bounce in the service court, hopping back to intercept it nearer the baseline. A smooth swing on his right side sends the ball back over the net with little force, allowing Rose to easily return it to Junior. The young stallion smoothly steps to his left, giving room enough for him to swing his field around and launch a harder strike back to Glistening. The young mare’s eyes lock onto the approaching target as she backs up from the service line. Her muzzle splits in an aggressive smile as she unnecessarily swings her entire body, slamming the ball and sending it on a straight beam directly at the colt.

Eyes widening comically, Cure does the only thing his body can think to do. With only a fraction of a second to respond, he cracks open his muzzle and snaps the ball out of the air, deftly catching it between his teeth.

Silence.

Complete and utter silence fills the air from the furthest court all the way to the quietly gasping spectators watching from the balcony. Stock still, frozen in disbelief at his own reaction, Cure stands there for a moment blinking, completely unsure what to do next. With all eyes wide and fixated on him and absolutely nothing else,there is clearly only one option available.

He spreads his wings, takes a deep bow… and begins to dance.

It begins with a shuffle of his forelegs, his hooves clacking loudly on the painted concrete surface. A small hop to his right brings a four-set of clacks to the silent courtyard as everypony watches on in stunned silence. Wings spread, he bends all four knees and rhythmically taps away, spinning in place as he goes. At a full rotation he aims his head up high and, while ensuring not to soak the ball in spit, launches it straight into the air.

Not a sound can be heard, not even the clatter of hanging jaws on tabletops as the colt bounces the ball on his snout like a well trained seal. The click-clack of hooves doesn’t cease, gaining in speed as he twirls and bounces the ball from his nose to his withers to his croup, then back again. Finally reaching a climax and with taps and clacks coming in a ever quickening staccato, he rears up and twists, angling his wings so they are held completely still and perfectly vertical. The ball comes down from its arc, landing on the very tip of his extended right primary, halting all motion along with his apparently frozen body.

Blueblood fails to hold in the laughter, nearly bursting at the seams all at once. Either out of obligation or genuine amusement, other stomps and laughs soon follow, though there is no shortage of wholly baffled ponies trading looks of incomprehension at the young alicorn’s display.

“What,” Junior calls between laughs, “was that?!”

Finally giving up the act of playing a statue, Cure allows the ball to roll down his right wing as he returns to all fours, stilling the ball on his withers. He shrugs, an act that causes the ball to bounce off and roll to the side. “I figured if everypony’s gonna stare I might as well give ‘em a show. Besides,” he waves a foreleg to all the laughing spectators, “if you’ve already made a fool of yourself you might as well own it, right?”

Author's Note

I had a few other ideas for this chapter, but I couldn't really make them work. That's okay, though. They'll go in the ever-growing bin of future ideas and we may see them later. As for the wine tasting event? I had one or two for that, but ultimately decided to hold off. While there was some speculation as far as what Cure had planned, he really just wanted to start pushing ponies, and the princess, towards being more accepting of celebrating the night.

Not only is he too young to make some kind of move on the princess, he isn't so callous as to interfere with her love life. Also, the very first time he met the princess he mentally cringed at how many stories do little more than turn her into some kind of prize to win. He likes Celestia. Genuinely likes her and admires her accomplishments, even if there are some things he doesn't agree with. He's not going to turn around and abuse her trust or his position in some way.

Besides, he's planning on mostly living in Canterlot for a couple years starting next September anyhow. We'll not have a shortage of Celestia/Cure interactions for quite some time.

I'm sure many will wonder why Cure is only seeking to patent the ballpoint pen right now. Two reasons - first, it's easy and profitable. He actually knows exactly how pens work, and him developing an ink solution that would work well in them shouldn't be overly difficult given his ability to prototype designs. The only real question is whether or not he would ultimately turn it into another dick joke and the answer is obviously, "Yes. Always."

Since Wednesday has come and gone and Friday is spoken for, that means a much hyped event has to take place on Thursday night. How will it go down? Hmmm... we'll see. Hopefully I don't leave everyone disappointed. I get enough of that from the ladies! -insert rimshot-

As always, thanks for reading, rating, and commenting.

Enjoy!

Chapter 105: Lessons

Thursday, September 3rd, 909 AB (the next morning)
Breakfast

“Good morning, your majesty, highness, milady!” Mint enthusiastically greets as she dances into the dining room from the servant’s entrance. “And what a beautiful morning it is, too! The sunrise seemed extra marvelous today, princess!”

“Thank you, Cool Mint,” she graciously replies. “Lady Minerva joined Serpentus and I this morning on the balcony and, I must confess, I took the opportunity to put on a bit of a show. I do hope I did not overdo it too much.”

“Perish the thought, your majesty!” she instantly declines, nodding a thanks to Cure when he levitates the drinks in front of everypony. “It was absolutely gorgeous!” she insists, getting a pleased smile from the ancient mare. She ducks into a shallow bow and makes her way back out the servant’s door as she assures them, “I’ll be right back with your breakfasts, including the special order for his highness!”

“Special order?” he echoes questioningly. Turning from the departed mare to the princess, he asks, “What special order?”

“Worry not, Serpentus,” she calmly assures him. Though well hidden from her features, Cure picks up a hint of amusement in her scent. “Surely the kitchen staff have prepared something unique for you, likely in preparation for this evening. Something of a final meal for the condemned, perhaps,” she airily postulates.

“But… they don’t even know about this unless somepony said something.” He looks across the table to his mom and asks, “You didn’t say anything, did you?”

“Ta who?” she indignantly retorts. Brushing the suggestion aside with her right forehoof, she shakes her head no as she denies, “I ain’t told nopony nothin, colt. Ya ought’a know better’n ta even ask.”

He flinches from the scolding and nods in acceptance. “Sorry ma, just checking.”

“I have not told anypony that would tell anypony else,” Celestia gently assures him when he turns her way. “The only related missive I have sent is to the castle warders. I asked that a room be prepared for a demonstration, but did not give any details.”

“Prepared?”

“Of course. It is only prudent that the wards be double, or even triple checked. I will inspect them myself before our bout to be absolutely sure, but the ponies responsible for maintaining everything should have the situation well in hoof.”

“That’s probably a good idea. Are there any particular rules you wanna stick to for this whole thing?”

“None come to mind, though if I may make a suggestion?” Cure grunts an affirmative. “If you can do so effectively, I would ask that you use one of your puppeted bodies. The very notion of attacking a foal, even during an educational spar, does not appeal to me in the slightest. I would also prefer very much not to cause your parents undue concern in regards to your visits here.”

“I planned on it. Dam would be a tad miffed if I got hurt, even if I could heal it in an instant.”

“My thoughts exactly.”

“I’m kinda surprised you don’t have some kind of… oh, I dunno,” he rolls his forehoof in thought, “simulator or safety teleport system or something along those lines.”

“We do. That is, in fact, something that we will be deploying for some of the squad exercises. While effective, the system is far from infallible, especially when encountering more esoteric forms of magic. Any exercises in which it is deployed will have rules limiting what types of attacks and what spells are permissible. Special talents which do not manifest in an easily quantifiable attack, such as your own, cannot be accurately simulated, for example.”

“Really? That’s friggin awesome! Why don’t they use something like that at junior guard training? Is it expensive and hard to set up?”

“It is,” she confirms. “Not only that, but it also takes a dedicated team to maintain it to the highest standards. It is not, after all, something you would want to fail you when in use.”

“Makes sense,” he easily agrees.

“There is another issue as well. For guards and, particularly, youths, it is unwise to train them in such a setting. Studies have determined that ponies trained with it tend to underestimate exactly how much force to use, thus inflicting more grievous injuries than intended afterwards.”

“Practice how you perform, huh?”

“Indeed.”

“So if I’m using a puppet I take it you’re not gonna just instantly do something to cut off my portal or whatever, then, right? That’s not something anypony else would even know to do, after all.”

Celestia inclines her head in thought before dismissing the idea with a shake of her head. “I… am unsure how I would do so if one is inside of your body. Truthfully, if I were to face an opponent with such capabilities in real combat, I would simply annihilate their other bodies, assuming I knew them not to be separate entities. Your approach is so unique that I have never encountered anything remotely similar. It makes me wonder how attacks that target the mind or have other indirect effects would work.”

“It probably depends on how the spell or ability is targeting the brain. And whether it can transfer through inorganic compounds.”

“Hmm. Something perhaps we should explore at some point,” she suggests.

“Maybe when he’s older,” Amethyst interrupts. “Like ya said, don’t wanna hafta tell his dam that somethin went wrong.”

“Of course,” the princess easily agrees.

“Cool. I’m down for sorting that out. Anything else I should do to get ready?”

She shrugs indifferently and shakes her head no. “Prepare however you see fit.” A small smile tugs at the corners of the princess’s muzzle as she adds, “The purpose is to demonstrate why you should avoid a confrontation with a significantly more powerful opponent. While I do not wish to shake your confidence, it is important that you understand the gulf between yourself as you are now and somepony who has had centuries of experience.”

“Uh huh,” he disbelievingly nods. “Centuries of experience sittin around on yer cushy throne, ya mean. That’s alright, after all,” his voice changes to a higher pitched, more nasal imitation of her own and he leans side to side mockingly, “my purpose is to demonstrate why you should avoid underestimating a significantly less magically powerful opponent, especially when you haven’t fought a real battle since forever ago.”

The scowl she aims in his direction lacks any real heat, likely due at least in part to Amethyst’s quiet chuckling on her right. “I do not sound like that.”

“Close enough.”

The elder mare huffs and crosses her forelegs over her chest, turning to face the brat’s mother instead. “I honestly do not know how you put up with him. I have taught tens of thousands of foals over the centuries and I cannot recall a single one that was quite so… vexing.” She catches him sticking his tongue out at her from the corner of her eye.

“It’s real simple, princess. Ya just gotta sic his dam on ‘em. Her ‘n his sire are ‘bout tha only two he’ll behave fer.”

“That’s not true!” he vehemently denies, stamping a hoof on his pillow. “I listen to you, Title, and Lemon almost all’a tha time, too!”

Amethyst holds her hooves up placatingly and gives in with an acknowledging nod. “I suppose ya do, mostly. A right lot more’n most foals would, seein how we ain’t been family long at all.”

“I see how it is,” Celestia despondently sulks, which looks horribly out of place on the enormous mare, “I am the only authority figure who you so blatantly challenge.”

Playing up the wounded foal act as much as he can, Cure hangs his head and sags down into his cushion. Ears drooping and bottom lip quivering, he looks up at the mare through watery eyes and softly mumbles, “That’s just ‘cause I treat you more like a friend than a parent, Tia. You’re the only one I have who really knows me.”

The shot flies true, blasting through any defenses the ancient alicorn could have erected and piercing directly through her heart. Celestia melodramatically clutches at her chest and falls off her cushion to the side, gasping for air to the colt’s right. “Mercy! I beg of thee!” she cries, writhing pitifully on the floor, much to everypony’s amusement.

“Shoulda saved that one fer later, colt. Reckon that’s tha most you’ll hurt ‘er all day.”

“Please,” he scoffs, turning off the dour look like a flipped switch, “she’s totally goin down later. Y’all are underestimatin me ‘cause I’m a foal, but none of ya have any clue what I can really do.”

The service door opens up and the staff begin spilling out, pausing when they find the princess sprawled out on her side and the two other ponies in the room conversing as if nothing is amiss. Celestia sits back up in a rush, demonstrating far less grace than her typical motions. Though outwardly resuming her placid, indifferent mien, Cure can still detect amusement in her scent as she coughs to clear her throat and gives the servants a nod to proceed.

Cool Mint steps forward to speak as the other servants start distributing the food. A platter of breakfast confections is set in the middle of the table along with serving glasses full of various jellies, jams, and other condiments.

“For her majesty and Lady Minerva we have prepared a delicious and invigorating breakfast salad,” Mint begins, nodding as the dishes are placed in front of the pair. Cure salivates at the plate of halved hard boiled eggs, cut fried potatoes, tomatoes, croutons, diced onions, and sliced cucumbers all laid on a bed of spinach with a sweet, fruity smelling vinegar sauce drizzled overtop it.

The servant carrying his meal in a covered dish approaches him from the right, sliding it into place as he waits on with poorly concealed excitement.

“For his highness, at her majesty’s request,” she strongly emphasizes, earning a small pout from the elder and a quirked brow from the younger alicorn, “a quadruple serving of waffles and colored, hard boiled eggs.”

The lid on his platter is lifted revealing the meal to everypony in the room. Laid atop a rectangular, deep green dish are four waffles spread one to each corner, each one with a yellow, shell-removed hard boiled egg sat beside them. It takes a moment before realization dawns, at which point his head whips up to meet the princess’s mirth-filled eyes with a look of complete betrayal.

“You need not dance for our amusement, Serpentus. Feel free to start with eggs; while they lack the texture of the real thing they are far more tasty, I suspect.”

“You… how… grrr!” he growls, shattering her resolve and sending both her and his mother into a fit of laughter. “How did you even hear about that?!” he demands.

“Yer serious?!” his mom exclaims, mid-laugh. “Every other mare that came up ta me last night was talkin ‘bout it, either ‘cause they or somepony they knew was there. Everypony in Canterlot’s heard’a it by now.”

“I would dearly love to have seen your performance,” Celestia insists around giggles.

The colt growls menacingly as he impales an egg on his fork. His horn lights up, levitating the salt, pepper, several pats of butter, and a carafe of syrup over, grumbling under his breath the whole time. “Just jealous ‘cause you couldn’t ‘a pulled it off. I’ll show ya, alright. I’ll show ya a performance you’ll never forget!”

“I am quaking in my golden shoes,” she teasingly mocks. “I suppose we will find out this evening.”

That afternoon.

A rush of wind slides over Warrior’s camouflaged scales as he launches himself on an arc, silently gliding from one tree to the next. Bounding across the treetops as stealthily as he can, he closes in on the familiar scent, giddy at the opportunity to study the physiology of an animal he hadn’t expected to encounter for years to come. It isn’t difficult to follow the acidic stench of cat urine carried on the air, and what would normally be the suffocating dark of the Everfree’s canopy isn’t the slightest hindrance to the puppet’s sight.

The only true challenge is that Warrior is fast approaching the very edge of the ring system’s feasible range, yet the scent of his prey itself still eludes him. That’s not a huge problem, however. After all, if he can’t reach his prey then the only thing left to do is to lure the beast closer to him.

The only question is, what kind of bait will be the most effective? The opportunity to feast, fight, or fuck will ensnare most animals, but without ever having scanned a female the last one is right out. The same can be said for “fight” since the most effective bait would be another male’s scent in the target’s territory. Then again, maybe any old piss will do as long as it’s close enough, and between the big cats from the zoo and the scent on the wind Cure should be able to whip up a pretty good substitute.

As the colt muses on the fact he’s using his talent to mix up artificial pee, he extrudes a few kilogram chunk of bloody meat from the Warrior’s chest. It’s by no means a full meal for a predator of any size, but free food is free food, and even a few kilograms of unspoiled meat would be a boon to a hungry carnivore.

A small clearing just ahead will work well enough, and a few modified mosquitoes take off in various directions, dripping a trail of blood to more quickly spread the scent. Dozens more settle on the western edge of the clearing, oozing a viscous spray of concentrated male lion urine.

Warrior settles in to wait as the next set of patients march their way towards Cure’s office, a pair of pegasi with light colored coats. His focus back on his body, he hops down off his couch to greet the couple who, judging from their scent, heightened adrenaline, and overall demeanor, seem none-too-pleased to be here.

“Colonel Flint,” he begins with a respectful nod and an outstretched hoof, “it’s a pleasure to meet you, ma’am. You’re in from Fort Palomino, if I’m not mistaken, correct?”

The faded yellow pegasus looks down her snout at the colt and begrudgingly reaches out to return the greeting. “You know I am, sir, and if we can get this done I would very much like to get back to it.”

Cure’s eyes flick to her wife, a more petite, light gray mare, to gauge her reaction and, unfortunately, he finds an equally unimpressed and annoyed expression on her face. “Very well,” he accepts, having already scanned them to confirm they are indeed ponies. He ignites his horn to push his door shut behind the two, an act that startles them and puts them both on edge.

“Easy, colonel. I’m just trying to respect your privacy.” He sits on his haunches to hopefully put them more at ease. “I understand nopony wants to go to the doctor, but I’m not one, and there’s a few hundred thousand ponies that would love to have five minutes of my time, so what’s with the hostility?”

She sighs, relaxing slightly as she assures him, “It’s not that, your highness. I know why we’re really here.” Cure’s attention is drawn to the gray mare who huffs and shoots the colonel a brief glare. The motion is caught by Flint who assures him, “I haven’t told her. I can’t tell her yet, and she knows that.”

“Even if it is annoying,” her wife complains.

“Either way, getting dragged halfway across the nation for this,” she waves to the office with a foreleg, “is a waste of my time. It’s two days each direction on trains for, as you said, a five minute appointment. Being trapped on those small cars all day was awful.”

Cure bobs his head and shrugs, arguing, “As with any security measure, it’s a waste of time until all of the sudden it isn’t. If you know why you’re here then you certainly understand the risk, and I’m sure there’s many things you’ll not be able to discuss at home. That’s just part of the job.”

“As you say, sir.”

“Keep in mind that I’m here, too. My family and friends are all back in Baltimare, but I’m here spending the last couple weeks of my summer before their school restarts for the same reason. How many hours a week did you work at my age, Colonel Flint?”

Her aggressive posture fully evaporates as she confesses, “I… didn’t. Work, that is. Not until I was thirteen, and I’m guessing you’re not even ten, sir.”

Cure grimaces and slowly nods, mumbling, “... my height kind of gives it away, doesn’t it?”

The mare gives him a small nod and points out, “If alicorns grow like earth ponies you’d be noticeably taller since your coronation, sir.”

“Kinda overlooked that,” he grouses with a cringe. “Well either way, if you’re in a hurry to get back…?” he trails off in question.

“We’re flying straight to Detrot after this to catch the evening train to Las Pegasus tonight, sir.”

“Then let’s get you taken care of.” With a casual wave of his forehoof, he motions to the officer. “Your scans didn’t show anything significant, mostly the typical stuff anypony your age would have wrong with them. Your hearing has degraded some, of course, and even if you haven’t noticed, so has your sense of smell.

“I could smooth over that scar on your foreleg,” he motions to a cut just above her fetlock, “if you want, or just leave it. Either way. Other than that, you have a few joints with arthritis setting in. Your left hip, in particular, likely due to whatever injury you had at some point.”

“My hip?” she echoes with a scrunched up snout. “I fractured that in Basic twenty-three years ago. It’s fine, sir.”

“And it’s long since healed,” he agrees understandingly. “But if it doesn’t already, I bet within the next few years you’ll start noticing it when it rains. Or when you’re quickly changing altitude, I suspect.” The mare grimaces and gives a nearly imperceptible nod in acknowledgement.

Cure regards the wife and continues, “Ma’am. As with your wife, you have all the typical age related stuff going on. I could go into detail if you’d like,” he offers. The mare pauses in thought for a moment and silently shakes her head no. “Fair enough. You also have slightly elevated blood pressure, which I’m not seeing a direct cause of, making me suspect it’s genetic.”

The mare bobs her head and softly says, “My dam has that too. She takes medicine.”

“Then I would recommend you have her come visit me at some point. The sooner the better. I understand some of those medicines have side effects. Oh, and maybe tell any siblings to get checked also. As far as I know, only I can cure the underlying problem instead of just treating it. Come on,” he turns, waving to his patient couch, “I can patch you up faster by hooking you up to my plant, and I’ll even give ya a little boost for your flight to Detrot.”

Attention split, Cure doesn’t register the manticore approaching his Warrior until he has the colonel hooked into his plant. Though he can’t get a good look at the animal, he immediately notices that it’s not as absolutely massive as he’d anticipated from the show. From what little he can see, it’s only about the size of a typical lion which, while not insignificant, is far from the depiction of Manny who was twenty or more times the mass of the girls when they encountered him while chasing after Nightmare Moon.

As with many members of the military, even the higher echelons, the mare does not have an excessive amount of fat from which to steal mass away. There would be enough, but even shifting a half of a kilogram on an already trim pegasus tends to stand out, and the last thing he wants to do is give her any reason to complain, especially a reason such as altering her appearance without permission which he would deem completely valid.

Ultimately, she is a subordinate and there’s little she could actually do, but even with somepony that isn’t really a “customer” per se, there’s no reason not to deliver good customer service.

The Warrior sits still, hiding in the treetops overlooking the clearing as the manticore warily surveys the area. The animal doesn’t appear to be intelligent, but still possesses the same cunning and instinct that any other hunter species would, sticking to the shadows where Warrior can barely catch a glimpse of it. Almost as if sensing the trap, the beast retreats back into the thicket to circle to the southeast, positioning himself to be more directly downwind from the morsel of bloody meat thrown into the clearing.

Unwilling to let the animal escape, Warrior spreads his wings and lunges in that direction. The manticore reacts to the motion almost instantly, turning away to make its escape. A fling of its tail as it turns launches four barbed quills hurling in Warrior’s direction, but the haste with which the attack was made means that only one of them is on target. Warrior’s hand lashes out, catching the projectile before it can puncture his wing, the force of the impact insignificant compared to his own mass, even lightened for flight.

While the manticore accelerates at an impressive rate, he isn’t able to fully escape the radius of the Warrior’s horn. It ignites to capture a scan and, in an instant, the full physique of the animal flashes across Cure’s mind.

Unlike what the show portrayed, which was little more than a lion with wings and a scorpion tail, this monster has significantly more scorpion and draconic bits than Cure had anticipated. While most of the features of its face, head, and neck are distinctly feline, its dark brown fur gives way to a layer of even darker scales on the top of its back.

A segmented and quilled chitinous carapace provides a strip of additional armor and defense down its back until it merges into the nearly black tail which is tipped in a spiked, morningstar-like appendage. The tail itself is nearly prehensile like a dragon’s or a snake’s body rather than segmented like a scorpion’s tail would be.

Its wings are undersized for its frame, and, while having an overall draconic shape to them, also have two small, grasping claws at the elbow like some Ed had occasionally seen in drawings of wyverns. Each of its four legs are tipped with retractable curved, grasping claws like a cat. From its behavior and appearance, Cure can only assume it is an ambush predator.

It appears to use a couple of different venoms as well. Two distinct types are secreted from its body; one on its claws and a few frontal teeth and a different one on its tail and the defensive quills on its back. Though it will take time to analyze each one, a quick comparison to his catalog of spider and snake venoms has him suspecting the former to be a paralytic and the latter as being something much deadlier.

With his scan complete, Warrior breaks off from the fleeing animal and allows it to escape. As awesome of a bar story wrestling with a manticore may make, there’s no reason to cause the monster any undue stress.

The last thing Cure would want to do is to force the animal out of its territory and, perhaps, inadvertently push it closer to either Forest Heights, some twenty kilometers to the east, or Ponyville, which is about fifteen kilometers to the northwest. Both are close enough that he’s slightly concerned, but he figures he can check with Celestia and either hunt the beast down easily enough, or let the agents of S.M.I.L.E. earn their keep if need be.

As the afternoon comes to a close Cure notes the sudden straightening of the guards outside his door. It’s not at all difficult to discern why; Celestia is like a shining second sun when not holding back the radiance that naturally emanates from her being. The mare, along with his disguised mother and three more Royal Guards, are making their way to his clinic from the castle’s entrance. Having finished with his patients for the day and due to the recent transition to the castle guard’s second shift, only the colt and his guards remain in his clinic.

Leaving his latest creation behind, Cure trots out into the office to greet the pair upon their arrival. “Ma, princess, I got somethin to show ya if you have a moment,” he says, half turned in his office doorway with his right wing pointing inside.

“Oh? Another of your creations?” the elder alicorn inquires.

“Yep. Had a little afternoon inspiration and finally knocked out a project I’ve thought about a few different times but never got around to. Come check it out!” he chirps, skipping back into his room. The mares regard each other with a shrug and follow along the eager colt’s steps.

Both freeze at the doorway when their eyes land on the animal resting upon his southernmost couch. Celestia instinctively readies for battle. Knees bent, wings half raised, and horn alight with power, the mare regards the sleeping form of a large, male manticore for only a moment before calming. Amethyst does not fare quite as well; lacking the privilege of ever encountering a truly dangerous beast, the mare goes stock still and wide-eyed, her breath frozen in her chest.

“It ain’t real, ma. Relax,” the little jerk insists, hopping up on the couch to prod at the monster’s insensate body. “I did, however, find a real one about twenty klicks south of the mountain, though,” he adds, looking up to meet the princess’s eyes, “so I don’t know if you need to… ya know… do anything or tell anypony or whatever. If you want, I could send Warrior out to catch or kill it if it’s a danger to any of the nearby towns.”

Amethyst at least begins to breathe and calm herself down. Curiosity piqued, Celestia moves fully in the room to more closely analyze the ferocious looking beast. “It is a magnificent specimen, Cure. Can you show me where you spotted it? Perhaps with an illusory map?”

“Sure. You bet, boss,” he agrees, projecting a top-down view of the forest to the south of the Canterhorn with indicators for Warrior’s path, the monster’s approximate entrance and exit routes, and a number of noteworthy landmarks such as rocks, streams, or unusual and distinctive flora. “Based on the thing’s scent, this is the far upper end of its territory and, unfortunately, that was also about as far as I could venture out with the rings I had available.

“I moved Warrior east and west,” he continues, highlighting the routes the puppet took, “to try to triangulate approximately where the center of its territory might be, but all I was able to figure out is that it’s somewhere to the south and, based on trees and rocks it marked, more to the west than the east. I don’t know how far these things range, unfortunately.”

“Not very far at this time of year,” Celestia explains, “but that is likely to change with the transition to fall in the coming month. It may expand its hunts in order to bulk up before colder weather sets in. Even though the Everfree never reaches freezing, the average temperatures do fall to the point where game is likely to become more scarce.”

“The Everfree doesn’t freeze?”

“It does not,” she confirms. “Even when the entire canopy is blanketed in snow the temperatures underneath remain relatively mild, rarely falling much below twelve degrees during the day and five at night. It is a phenomenon that ponykind has struggled to explain for over a millennium; one we merely ascribe to the forest’s chaotic nature.”

“Huh,” he grunts in thought. “I should make a greenhouse for dam’s garden this winter. I bet she would like that.”

Celestia graces him with a beaming smile and a nod. “I am certain such a fine present would be most welcome, Cure. In regards to the manticore, I presume that the specimen you encountered was a male as well?”

“Sure was. The big pussy ran away as soon as I had Warrior lunge at it.”

“That is not surprising, though I very much doubt it retreated very far. In all likelihood it fled the immediate encounter, only to circle back in an attempt to stalk and ambush its would-be attacker. If your Warrior had remained inside its territory, the monster would not have completely abandoned the area, only waited for a better opportunity to catch you unaware.”

“Ah,” he mumbles, nodding in understanding. “I thought it seemed a little too easy. Oh well, like I said, I couldn’t go deeper in, so once I scouted the area a bit I Teleported back to town. Is this thing going to be a problem?”

“Unlikely,” she responds, shaking her head no. “I will advise the nearby town guards of the presence of a male and, possibly, a pride nearby. As I am certain you ascertained, the manticore’s venoms are their greatest danger. Is that box,” she turns to look at the desk he had set up for attending physicians to occupy, nodding to the modified Life Support Collar setup sitting on top of it, “something you devised to neutralize the threat?”

“It is!” he confirms, nodding his head eagerly. “Observe,” he calls, hopping and flapping his wings once to float over to the desk. He sits beside the box and turns to face the mare, pausing when he notes his mother still standing at the doorway. “Mom? The manticore ain’t gonna come ta life and eat ya, you know? It’s just another puppet, see?”

Activating a ring, he establishes a connection to the prone puppet’s form. Celestia placidly watches on as the monster stirs to wakefulness. Amethyst doesn’t flee, but Cure is certain that the only reason she is still rooted in place is because of the presence of the two alicorns between her and it.

Cure has the puppet sit up and turn to regard the now-white mare. Claws retracted, it taps its chest with a forepaw and, in a deep, gravely voice, says, “You know, you still have that gland I gave you, mom. Without its venoms you would probably beat the crap out of this thing in a straight-up fight. It doesn’t have earth pony bullshit super-strength or any of the protections I’ve given you.”

The new voice in the room prompts his sergeant to glance inside the room around his still unmoving mother. The scent of panic and gasp of alarm fills the room upon seeing his princess within striking distance of such a dangerous animal. “At ease, Sergeant Whiplash,” Celestia calmly commands. “This is not a real manticore; only a facsimile created by your charge. None of us are in any danger at all.”

“Ma’am!” he barks out with a firm nod before resuming his default guard posture.

Cure notices the other guards stealing glances inside the room as Celestia takes in the manticore’s features. “Amazing,” she breathily murmurs. “I have encountered their kind before, but to be able to see a specimen in such a controlled setting is truly remarkable.”

The puppet rolls to its haunches on the couch, sitting up in front of the princess. Even on the raised platform the mare towers over the fearsome beast. He offers a paw up for her inspection, extending its claws, then retracting them back. Amethyst finally forces herself in the room as the puppet turns to show its back and unfurls its draconic, grasping wings.

“This one doesn’t have any venom at all right now,” Cure, through the puppet, explains, “but you don’t want to touch its back normally. Those quills are dulled, but the real ones are as sharp as a needle and laced with a really nasty neurotoxin, the same as what’s on its tail,” he continues, slowly raising the barbed weapon to show off its spines.

“I am aware, unfortunately,” Celestia admits with a grimace. “Anypony hit with such an attack will succumb within minutes, sadly. We were occasionally forced to confront these beasts during the early years at our castle in the Everfree. They eventually learned to keep their distance, but dozens of guards perished before that lesson was fully conveyed.”

“Ugh… I wish I could say that I’m surprised. As I’m sure you learned, these things on their tail aren’t affixed; they’re basically just sitting inside slots in its tail with a small muscle holding each one in place. It actually launched four of them at Warrior with a flick of its tail when it retreated. They weren’t very accurate, but I guess you don’t need to be when even grazing somepony is fatal.”

“Indeed not. Presumably, then, your newest creation is some form of anti-venom device?”

“Yep!” he chirps from his real body. “It’s like the Life Support Collar, as I’m sure you’ve noticed. The main difference is that this thing hooks in to more than just the patient’s carotids.” Cure ignites his horn, levitating the box that is nearly as large as his barrel in the air.

“You’ll notice that the display panel is on a side instead of the ‘top’ of the unit, and instead of one collar,” he says, using his horn to extend five collars instead, “this one has one for each limb and another for the neck. All five should be unnecessary, but if somepony somehow got hit in more than one limb I wanted to have everything covered just to be safe. The ‘top’ of the box will actually stick right on the patient’s chest, back, or side.”

Turning around to face away, he floats the box onto his back to demonstrate. Once it registers his body, it latches on with its innate telekinesis field, adhering in place. The five vine-like collars are wrapped around each leg and the thickest loops around his neck. “It hooks into the carotids, of course, to ensure nothing is attacking the brain, but also ties into both femorals on the hind legs and the median artery and the cephalic vein on the forelegs, filtering toxins all throughout the body while administering an antivenom and, with the push of a button, a weak steroid mixture to prevent an allergic reaction.”

He turns back around to show how its looped around his legs just below his pits, completely aware and slightly uncomfortable with the fact that the collars wrapped around his hind legs also unfortunately draw attention to his junk now surrounded by fleshy vines on both sides. Pushing the human thoughts aside, he continues his spiel as unbothered as he can manage. “The nice thing is that it can use the same docks that the other unit does, so no new equipment needs added once they all go into distribution.

“The controls are all touch-based and the information panel is essentially the same. I’ve been meaning to do something like this for a while, but seeing that guy,” he waves to the manticore who sets a paw on his chest and takes a small bow, “I figured I should go ahead and do so.”

“And you did this in an afternoon?” she questions. “While treating other patients?”

The colt shrugs and bobs his head, an action that is mirrored on his puppet. “The basic design of the system was already done months ago. I really just added a few additional plug-ins and an antivenom synthesizer. This isn’t a replacement for the other one,” he rushes to add. “It will run out of energy much faster.

“Its energy stores are far smaller to accommodate the antivenom extruder, which takes up a fair amount of space in the unit. It’ll get them over that hump, though, and if need be they can be swapped to another unit easily enough. The only real problem would be with venoms like the manticore’s since it’ll probably kill somepony before they can even get to the machine, which is why I made these,” he says, igniting his horn.

A three ring binder flashes into existence in his aura. He opens it to the first page, showing two flat envelopes, each labeled with a picture of a black widow spider. “These are single use packets designed to be applied directly to the wound.” He flips to the next pages displaying a brown recluse, then a copperhead snake, then several varieties of hornets. “Just peel off the wax paper and slap the patch on. For some-”

“Like me,” the manticore interrupts.

“- there’ll be a single-use injection as well.” He closes the book and sets it aside. “I’ll make a hundred or so books before I leave and, as they get used, maybe send me a list to the hospital or something.”

“Fantastic, Cure!” she cheers, wings aflutter. He happily leans into her warmth when she leans down to nuzzle his mane. “You can present this, along with any other products, to Director Storm at our meeting tomorrow afternoon. As for your other creation,” she speculatively eyes the manticore, “I would not recommend presenting him to the good director. I expect she would react poorly to a talking manticore.”

“Aww,” he foalishly whines, “but I wanted a fantastic animal for a pet too! You have a phoenix, why can’t I have a manticore?”

“Philomena does not eat ponies, for one,” she patiently points out.

“That you know of,” he huffs, sitting on his rump to cross his forelegs. “You don’t know what she gets up to when she’s off doing whatever.”

The mare has the audacity to roll her eyes at him. “I am exceedingly confident that her activities do not include devouring my little -” she freezes when an eager grin flashes across his face.

“Say it,” he snickers, Teleporting a pair of bottles into his outstretched hooves. “You know you want to, Tia. Dooo eeeeeit!” he brazenly taunts.

“I refuse,” she grumbles, causing the colt to sag in disappointment. “Regardless, I am not going to give you permission to travel about with what, by all appearances, is a monster, not even if it is fake and lacks venom.”

Cure chews on his lips as he stares up at the mare. His eyes briefly flick to Amethyst who responds with a hard stare and a slow head shake no.

“Fine!” he grumps, igniting his horn.

The manticore flops on his back, grasping melodramatically at his chest as he pathetically kicks his hind paws in the air. “Doomed!” he cries, writhing on his back, “This is the end! I can feel the icy grasp of death on my neck! Goodbye, cruel world! Goodbye!” he croaks, kicking his hind leg one more time before going limp with his tongue hanging out the side of his mouth.

Celestia sighs, turning from the manticore back to the placidly watching colt to give him an unimpressed look. “What?” he innocently asks. “Yer the one that made me do it. Ya murderer.”

“A Squire Butterfield you are not,” she snarks, turning with a beckoning wave of her wing. “Now come along, it is time for your education.”

“Uh huh,” he grunts, rolling his eyes, “more like your face’s education.”

“Weak,” Amethyst snorts, turning to follow the mare.

“Nopony asked you,” he huffs. He hops and spreads his wings, catching up to his mom and quietly asks, “Who the eff is Squire Butterfield?”

The mare shrugs and shakes her head, indicating she has no idea.

From ahead of the pair Celestia clicks her tongue in disappointment. “Squire Butterfield was a famed Bitish comedic actor born…” she cocks her head to the side in thought, “oh, about two hundred and fifty years ago, I suppose.” She takes a deep breath as the procession heads out the clinic doors and blows out a long sigh. “I went to a few of his shows while visiting my dear friend, Duchess Victory, before he retired to a more managerial role.”

A giggle escapes the mare and she looks over her withers, “He was quite the wolf back in his younger days with that handsome mustache of his.” Cure and Amethyst woodenly turn and almost simultaneously raise a brow at each other, silently following along. “Upon hearing of my visit, he insisted his troupe put on a rendition of Sun’s Sweetheart in which he played a supposed lover of mine who I was forced to banish as a result of a scheme devised by the House of Nobles. You can imagine they were somewhat unamused upon hearing of it.”

The mare looks back ahead and lets out a wistful sigh. “I had to veto many a tariff increase aimed at needling Victory and her ponies for her role, insignificant as it was, in ‘tarnishing the House’s dignity,’” she complains in a mocking tone. “The oversensitive fops were wound entirely too tightly for their own good.”

“So… a wolf?” Cure asks. “That’s some old pony term for a mares stallion, huh?”

“Oh yes,” she answers with a warm chuckle. “That he was, indeed. I always had a soft spot for thespians, I suppose. Something about the ability to paint over the world with their imagination, drawing those around them into the fantasy. It is a wonderful feeling, being able to explore something so new and novel. An fleeting experience that eludes one as the centuries seemingly soar by.”

The colt and his mother once again trade mirroring looks, this time of sympathy for the mare’s, and now his, plight. The three draw a few curious looks as they make their way to the guards’ barracks, past the ponies standing guard outside it, and into the lobby.

Cure had, based on everypony calling the building “the barracks,” expected to find little more than living quarters. It occurs to him that this is also where Ferric and Heavy went just after his ascension, so it was likely a little foolish to make such an assumption.

The lobby area is small for the size of the building; barely over a hundred square meters total. A short desk mared by a single earth pony lines the right wall with notice boards on either side of her. The left one appears to be the “official” board and is littered with everything from upcoming events around town, opportunities for education or special classes, and even notices of creatures wanted for questioning. From the yellowing of the pages and differences in layouts on some, Cure suspects the subject of several of them may be long dead.

“Ma’am!” the mare calls out in greeting, belatedly adding, “And sir!” when she notices the colt. “Training Room B4 has been prepared for you, your majesty! Would you like an escort?”

“Thank you, Sergeant Long, but that is unnecessary,” she returns with a grateful smile. She regards the six guards following behind herself and Cure for a moment before coming to a decision. “I believe we will be adequately protected while inside the facility. You are dismissed for the evening. And sergeant?”

“Ma’am?”

“Please tell Sergeant Frost not to be alarmed if we are late returning. I have much to teach our young prince.”

The stallion’s eyes flick down to the colt with a look of curiosity for the briefest moment before he snaps off a salute. “Yes, ma’am!”

Celestia returns it with a shallow nod, then motions for Amethyst and Cure to follow with a wave of her right wing as she turns to walk forwards. As she leads them further into the building towards a stairwell, she begins explaining, “The rooms for sparring or practice with more… volatile spells are located underground.

“There are caves underneath the castle composed of crystal substance that is highly resistant to spells utilizing fire, electricity, and arcane power. Fortunately they are capable of being altered and grown with the appropriate geomancy spells. Between the wards and the material’s resilience, it would take a significant effort to cause any damage.”

A pall of silence descends on the pair as they trail behind the princess, carefully descending the winding stairs that she casually takes two at a time; the only sound the soft clacking of their hooves on the stones. Contrary to the colt’s expectations, they are not led into anything remotely dungeonesque, and instead follow the elder mare down the fully illuminated stairwell to a large, stone hall with tall, wide corridors splitting off in three directions; north, south, and east.

Several squads of guards apparently either going on patrol or coming off of it, presumed based upon how fresh they look, halt on the spot and straighten up, coming to attention to salute the two royals. “At ease, everypony,” the princess calls. “Prince Serpentus and I are simply headed to one of the training rooms. Do not let us hold you up from your duties.” Not waiting for a response, she turns to her right and begins walking to the south.

The whole time Cure is following along all he can think about is how badly he wants to explore the area. Due to his busy schedule when visiting, he hadn’t spent any significant time just sneaking around in the castle, but now that he knows there is an entire underground complex he fully intends to send a puppet down to scurry about, perhaps disguised as a wayward squirrel or bat.

He can only assume there are tunnels leading to the palace as well; a few split off to the west that, based on their width alone, likely continue for a fair distance, and there isn’t much else in that direction.

They are only walking down the south corridor for a moment before coming to a wide opened doorway on their left. A bored looking sentry is sat ahead of them behind another service window. The earth pony stallion sits up straighter when the princess walks in, nodding to his right towards a door as he says, “B4 is all set up, your majesty. The technicians checked everything over and recharged the wards for you this morning.” His eyes flick down to the colt betraying a measure of confusion. “Did… you need safety equipment for today, ma’am? The request I received did not indicate…”

She shakes her head to the negative and replies, “That will not be necessary today. Thank you, private,” then lights up her horn to pull the door to the left of the stallion open. As with every other feature of the castle’s grounds, the size of the door and revealed stone corridor is more than large enough to accommodate the princess’s greater stature. They pass several doors before turning right, then only walk another fifty meters before coming to the end of the hall where a door labeled “B4” is to their left.

The room they enter isn’t for sparring; instead it is furnished like an observation room, overlooking a vast cavern opposite the hallway. Thick panels of glass separate the rooms and cushions are sat out for anypony watching. A control panel-like surface sits in the middle, but nothing on it is lit up.

While the observation room is slightly darkened, the sparring room is as bright and well lit as the outside courtyard, despite the ominous, dark red crystalline rock that make up its walls, floor, and ceiling. Arrays of lit up crystals run in a half dozen rows sat up in the ceiling, filling the room with a sterile white that is shaded red upon reflecting off of the crimson surfaces.

“This room feels a little murdery, boss. Like… if somepony was gonna start cuttin folks up, I could see them goin for this exact same decor.”

“That may be,” she reluctantly agrees, “but nopony has died in any of these rooms thus far. That is not to say there have not been any close calls, but the safety equipment and systems normally used minimize the risk. Mrs. Blossom?”

“Princess?”

“You may watch safely from within this room. Worry not for your safety; this room is well secured. Cure? I assume you have spent the better part of the week preparing some manner of horror with which to challenge me?”

The colt holds up a wobbly hoof in the air. “Not exactly.”

A look of genuine shock crosses the mare’s face. “Truly? I had anticipated some kind of unnatural beast prepared specifically to counter me.”

“Sorta,” he admits, ducking his head in a single nod. “I kinda have a base platform prepared that’s scalable with some specialized variants depending on the expected challenge. Based on the size of this room, for example,” he says, waving towards the sparring chamber, “I wouldn’t bother with wings.”

Amethyst looks down into the room to get a feel for approximately how large it is. “Looks like it’s ‘bout thirty, thirty-five meters tall ‘n around fifty to a side, colt. Yer never gonna be able ta lay a hoof on ‘er if ya can’t fly.”

Cure gives her a goofy smile and shrugs in response.

Celestia eyes the room in consideration before finally coming to a decision. “Before you unleash whatever creation you have come up with, perhaps we should have a spar with you as you are.”

“Uhh… thought you didn’t want to be blastin away at a colt.”

“Then use a puppet shaped like ya, ya dummy,” his mother snarks.

“Oh. Duh.” He rears up to look down in the room, concentrating for a moment before igniting his horn. An unclothed duplicate of himself flashes into existence a couple hooves off the ground, wings spread for a gentle landing at the southern end of the room. Celestia nods in acceptance, sets her crown and regalia aside, removes her golden shoes, then Teleports herself onto the room’s northern half.

The combatants eye each other up, opposite the center of the room and nearly twenty meters apart. Unbidden, any number of inappropriate jokes about the two of them finally being naked in a private room together briefly flit through his mind, but thoughts of taunting the mare are pushed aside as he considers the utter spanking he is likely about to receive.

“You may begin when ready,” Celestia permits. “If the opportunity for you to affect me with your talent arises then we will consider you the victor.”

“Umm… I can do that whenever,” he points out in a questioning tone.

Rather than respond verbally, the ancient mare merely smirks. A flood of power swells in the room, pushing back his horn’s aura and creating a wall through which his sense is completely blocked. A single challenging brow raises on the elder alicorn’s overly smug face.

“Well… shit.”

A soft chuckle escapes her. “You are not the first creature I have encountered with an ability that can cause harm to anypony within a certain radius. As you are aware, unicorns, and alicorns, for that matter, rely on feedback received from an aura emitted from our horns.”

“Right,” he nods understandingly.

“When facing a being of sufficient power, or one with adequate experience, that ability can be countered or mitigated. You have witnessed me doing something similar before, however at the time I was demonstrating another function of this ability.”

“So… it’s the same thing as when you ‘flex’ your magical muscles?”

“In a sense. Rather than reaching out to cow or crush an opponent, it is possible to wield your power like a shield, thus indirectly protecting yourself or any nearby allies. Very few unicorns have the magical capacity to do such a thing, and I have only encountered a few other beings with the fortitude and strength required.”

“I assume the asshole is one?”

A snorted laugh escapes her. “I assume so, but I cannot be certain. It is possible that his chaotic nature somehow protects him or simply redirects any such attack. Regardless of his method, I would not rely on your talent having any effect on him at all. No, the others were Lord Tirek once he was sufficiently empowered, Dragonlord Torch, and an ibex that called himself Maldor the Malevolent.”

“Maldor the Malevolent?” the colt asks with a chuckle. “He sounds like a real badass.”

“Oh, do not let the name deceive you. The visions granted to me painted him as a truly formidable warlock. If I had not previously encountered Sombra, Maldor could have been a significant threat. Fortunately, the would-be king served as an adequate introduction to the darker aspects of magic that I knew not to dismiss Maldor as some weakling pretender.

“When word first arrived from traders that Maldor had begun encroaching upon the griffon lands, we did not sit by and wait. With the pain inflicted by Sombra still fresh in our minds we immediately dispatched an expeditionary force. While Luna initially protested remaining behind to rule, the argument that my domain is a direct counter to his abilities won out.

“Upon ascertaining the breadth of scope of his dark powers, I chose to remove the threat directly. His defenses withstood several attacks with ease, and his counters forced me to focus on defending my soldiers, lest the battle turn into a bloodbath. I can only assume he felt victory was within his grasp upon seeing my lack of progress throughout the night. He made the mistake of not retreating as sunrise approached. When the opportunity came I unleashed the full might of the sun against him. The only reason history has largely forgotten his existence is because we pulled his threat out, root and stem, before he could further spread his dark influence.

“I only wish I had been better versed in the realm of politics at the time,” she sighs, hanging her head in shame. “While the commoners amongst the griffons were largely appreciative, Queen Falchion and her court were humiliated at the apparent ease with which Maldor was dismissed.”

The mare’s snout crinkles in distaste as she explains, “Rather than showing the gratitude that was expected, she allowed rumors to circulate that Maldor was merely some puppet; a false threat meant to allow Equestria a reason to expand its influence to their continent.

“Rather than take steps to disprove it, we gathered our forces and simply left, unaware of the distrust and fear left to fester behind us. The griffons even coined a term for our ‘falsely’ placing the blame for the attacks at Maldor’s hooves rather than admitting our supposed part in his atrocities. He was, quite literally, the very first ever scapegoat.”

The puppet’s ears sag and gives the princess a look of disappointment. “You’re freaking messing with me right now, aren’t you?”

She shakes her head no. “I only wish it were so. Relations between griffons and ponies continued to decline for decades after our intervention.” The princess shifts slightly on her hooves, looking off into the far distance as if reliving a small piece of that history. Cure waits patiently for her to return to the present, at which point she regains her focus on the puppet before her. “Apologies for the ramblings of an old mare. You did not come here for a history lesson. Would you prefer to make an attempt to bypass my defenses or would you rather concede victory and move on to the main event?”

The puppet scoffs and shakes its head no. “Yer not gettin off that easy, lady.” He bends his knees and spreads his wings, readying himself to move in all directions. “I know you think you’re ready to fight somepony like me, but yer about to find out how wrong you are.”

“Very well,” she accepts with an uncaring shrug. “Begin when ready.”

He doesn’t hesitate for an instant, sprinting diagonally to the right. His left wing raises just enough to reveal a row of six crystals as blasts of Flame Dart begin firing away. A single flap of the mare’s wings restores their distance. The blasts splash harmlessly against her shield and she returns fire with a yellow beam aimed directly at his barrel. The fire from his wing cuts off and, with a hop and a flap, the colt avoids the shot, launching himself in the air.

He continues running forward, ducking and dodging the following shots, all while attempting to close the distance. Celestia, unwilling to let him approach, dives towards the south to circle around the colt’s left side. Her horn flashes a different pattern, sending a dozen glowing blue bolts in his direction. Expecting a blast of relatively harmless Magic Missiles, the colt is completely unprepared when each hits with the force of a speeding train.

It only takes a pair of impacts to annihilate his shield, leaving another ten soaring in his direction. His left wing flashes out, flinging a volley of dragonbone spurs to intercept the rest, but only succeeds in detonating half of them. With five projectiles remaining on target, he activates his Teleport crystal and flashes halfway across the room, materializing on the midpoint line just in time to catch a blast from the princess’s horn that sends him sailing.

With a sickening squelch the colt’s puppet slides down the far north wall near the eastern corner, thankfully out of Amethyst’s line of sight. That doesn’t completely spare the mare from seeing the effects; a trail of fur and blood mark the path that the puppet took when Celestia caught him with the beam, though they are not easy to discern thanks to the dark red color of the floor. The remaining five bolts detonating on his crumpled form only add insult to injury, blasting chunks of viscera further into the corner of the room.

“Fuck,” his real body growls sitting beside his mom.

“She whooped yer ass, colt,” she unhelpfully taunts. “Is yer ring okay?”

“Yeah, I’m already patching the puppet up, but… yeah, there’s no way I can touch her like this. She’s not even trying.”

“Are you okay, Cure?” she calls out from the floor, looking to the observation room windows. “It looks like your puppet is reassembling itself. I have to say… that is a rather disturbing sight.”

“Just peachy,” the puppet calls out, snapping its legs back into place. Once it is capable of walking, he moves it back towards the place where he was initially hit, extending tendrils to reabsorb the blood, hair, fur, and miscellaneous pieces of himself left behind. Fully reassembled, the puppet marches back to the center of the north side of the room. “One more time, boss, then we’ll switch it up.”

The mare shrugs in acceptance and bobs her head, strolling to the center of the south half of the room. “You may begin when ready.”

Both wings flare out and eyelids on the puppet’s chest open up at once. Twenty Fire Bolts fire off in a volley as the colt’s neck swells and a bulge begins forming. Unable to see past the deluge of fire headed in her direction, Celestia lowers her head and blasts out a wall of force. The Bolts impact to little effect, but Cure continues firing round after round to obscure her vision. Package prepared, his head leans back before snapping forward, launching a fleshy projectile into the air.

Celestia’s eyes widen when the ball impacts the ceiling traveling much faster than the Fire Bolts he continues to unleash. She dives to her right and spreads her wings, lighting her horn to fire on the unknown threat while dodging the deluge of fire. The puppet’s body begins to charge, continuously firing everything it has as the fleshy sac sprouts dragonfly wings, zipping around the princess’s blast.

Seeing the colt’s plan to box her in, Celestia ignites her horn to teleport to the north side of the room and escape. She no more materializes near the north wall when an impact rocks her flanks. Confused by the wetness she feels through her coat and the peal of laughter originating from the observation room, she turns her neck to find another wet sac stuck just above the cutie mark on her left side. She follows the trajectory back to the colt’s puppet and, to her horror, finds his posterior aimed in her direction with his tail flagged off to the side.

“You… did… NOT!” she shouts in disgust, earning another round of laughter from the room above.

“No!” his true body quickly yells overtop his mother’s uncontrollable laugh. “It’s just a puppet, Celestia! That end of it is just as clean as the front, I swear! Why would I give the thing a real GI tract if it doesn’t have to eat?”

Her wings slowly lower and horn depowers as the moment of rage subsides. “I assume this,” she motions to the pink bubble still affixed to her flank, ”has one of your rings inside it?”

“It does,” the puppet confirms, turning to face her. “Even if my talent can’t affect you like this, which I haven’t tried -”

“It almost certainly can. Go ahead.”

He nods in acceptance and reaches through the ring, finding that he can, with approximately the same difficulty as a dragon would give him, feel the princess’s anatomy. Her heart rate is up and adrenaline spiked, making him feel relieved that she hadn’t lashed out when she thought he blasted her with his puppet’s poop chute.

“I felt that,” she calls out, sighing in defeat. “It would seem you are the victor of this round.”

“Yeah, looks like it. Anyhow, even if I hadn’t been able to, there’s nothing stopping that from pumping you full of drugs or something worse, so… yeah, I touch you, I win, basically.”

“I suppose that is the case,” she concedes, walking to approach the puppet. “Now I would ask that you remove this from my flanks, please,” she requests in a clipped tone. The sac vanishes in a flash, much to her relief, as does the one he had originally fired upon her, then the puppet itself.

“Ready for the real fight, boss? It’s one to one, so this is for all the marbles, ya know?”

The princess spends a moment mouthing the unfamiliar idiom before dismissing it with a shake of her head. “By all means, let us see what you have prepared for me.”

“Okay. Just don’t… ya know… blast it right off the bat or whatever. It’s gonna look pretty weird.”

Celestia waves a hoof to go ahead. A flash fills the room and she blinks to clear her eyes, finding the colt’s description of “pretty weird” to be wholly inadequate. It is difficult to truly get a feel for its looks, however, as its entire form is blacker than anything she has ever seen.

“I… cannot even tell what it truly looks like,” she admits. “Would you mind altering its colors temporarily?”

“Sure thing, boss,” the colt calls back from the observation room.

Black fades to a mix of grays as the being becomes more visible. At first glance, Celestia’s mind immediately compares it to some kind of mix between a spider and a dragon, however that description ignores several key facts. First off, there are no wings, nor is there a discernible face, or even a significant abdomen beyond a central mass that seems to be little more than a connection point for the creature’s dozen limbs.

Eight long, thick legs with multiple joints will no doubt assure the thing a degree of mobility that would make it nearly impossible to evade. Unlike a real spider, the entire creature is lined in scales and its legs end in three-clawed grasping feet. Two additional spear-like limbs are on both the top and bottom of its abdomen as well, each tipped in a single sharpened horn.

Though it stands only chest level with herself, she suspects it to outmass her at least a few times over. Every section of each limb is thick with corded muscle, and the plates of armor built into it have to carry significant weight as well.

“All set, boss?” Cure questions from the observation room.

“I… suppose,” she responds, though she suspects she may not be. Knees bent, wings half spread, the princess prepares for a battle she is not sure she can win.

“Go when ready,” Cure calls, granting her the first move. Her opponent’s form fades back into the black silhouette from which it first began, making discerning individual joints a near impossibility.

Celestia’s first move is to retreat back to the south wall of the room, gaining as much distance from the creature as possible. Her wings take her into the air as she attempts to seize the advantage they afford. A beam of force lances out in the direction of the creature, missing entirely when it takes off like a fired bolt.

A flurry of black limbs faintly visible against the dark red surface sprint in her direction and the now familiar glow of crystals reveals itself on the creature’s back. Truthfully, the Fire Bolts are a welcome attack, as they provide the princess with the best means of tracking her foe; even her horn’s aura struggles to pick out its form, making it impossible to simply grab it and slam it against a wall.

A feeling of disorientation begins assaulting the mare as she attempts to fly to the north along the far eastern wall. By the time she reaches the room’s midpoint the whole world is spinning uncontrollably. She tumbles in the air, landing in a heap, and immediately feels the weight of a single limb on her side. Five seconds. That is all she was able to accomplish against a foal not even a decade old.

“Want me to fix ya up?” is called from up above.

“Urgh,” is the only response she can muster aside from a faint nod. The feeling of Cure’s magic reaching into her soothes away the dizziness, allowing her to open her eyes without feeling as if she is going to be sick. “What was that? Poison in the air?”

“Nope,” he answers from the deck. “That was a sonic attack. That thing has… well… not mouths exactly, but something like them. Infrasonic and ultrasonic waves blasting away at your inner ear both above and below the levels you can actually hear them. The tugging one way or another jacks up your balance and, well, you saw the result.”

The weight of the limb upon her disappears. She rolls to her barrel, finding that the creature had silently moved almost to the opposite side of the room in the time it took for her to get back to her hooves.

“I do not believe I would be capable of defeating that… thing… in an environment such as this one. Not without bringing my full capabilities to bear.”

“Go for it, boss. Just don’t blow us all to pieces, if you can manage it.”

“I… think I’ll go wait in the lobby,” Amethyst hesitantly remarks.

“Worry not, Mrs. Blossom,” Celestia assures her. “I have far more control than that. You are perfectly safe where you are.”

Despite her initial worry, his mom settles in to watch the next bout.

Celestia strolls back to the center of the south side of the room. She takes a deep breath and centers herself as her mane and tail begin to still. All at once, both ignite in a blistering bout of flame, burning away the blue, green, and purple to replace the pastel colors with jets of electric blue, yellow, orange, and red. Flames of yellow and red erupt from the tips of her primaries, and her horn ignites in a spiral of screaming white.

“Begin,” echoes across the chamber, the single command reverberating off of the crystalline walls.

Cure doesn’t hesitate, sending his puppet scrambling towards the wall on the princess’s right, hoping that the challenge of tracking its darkened form prevents her from landing an attack. A hoof thick beam of white lances out from her horn, scything across the wall from which the puppet sprung to dodge. A leg shoots out, grasping onto the ceiling at the apex of its jump, redirecting its body away from another beam and back towards the same wall and likely saving the creature from being rendered to dust.

The third shot flies true, catching the back two legs on the puppet’s right side. They pass through its scales with minimal resistance, cleanly severing the limbs despite the thick plates of armor. With only a few seconds passed, Cure decides to change tactics, opting to dodge the princess rather than approach. A horn on the bottom ignites, pulling the limbs back in place as it tumbles and rolls to the west, its unnatural and bizarre locomotion and darkened camouflage making it difficult for the princess to land another hit.

A fog begins spilling forth from the creature’s legs and body; a sickly, green miasma that Celestia dares not approach. Checking to ensure the area is clear, she ignites her horn and teleports to the northeast corner of the room, immediately lashing out with a wall of force and flame to prevent a repeat of their second match. A dark shape arcs off of the creature’s body in an odd trajectory, spinning like a top as it curves around her wall. Several more begin firing from the creature’s barrel, forcing her to teleport to the southeast corner of the room lest she be hit.

The barrage of curved black projectiles only intensifies, endlessly firing off of the creature’s barrel from its four limbs one after another. Oddly, they seem to gain in speed as they move through the miasma, lending credence to her assumption that it is not some simple fog. Seeing no way to continue dodging both the odd weapons and the creeping mist, Celestia ignites her horn and fires off a broad, overwhelming beam seeking to clear the field entirely.

Rather than disperse the fog, her beam scatters and refracts on contact, pushing the cloud back as if sinking into some kind of gel. With one side pushed back, the other surges forward, giving her only one last option.

Power. Raw, overwhelming, unyielding power.

Heat unlike any Cure has ever experienced bathes the entire room, blasting off the princess and incinerating everything inside. The thick soup of dragonscale spores succumbs first, igniting like gasoline-soaked confetti in the air. The envenomed dragonscale boomerangs are flung aside and scoured clean by the heat, blasting against the chamber’s walls. The puppet, nearly halfway across the chamber, grabs onto the floor and flings itself away. The attempt to escape is futile; like an oven turned up to a thousand, the immersive heat chars and burns everything inside the room.

Cure worriedly looks at the glass separating the combatants and his real body, more concerned for his mom than himself. It seems to be weathering the hellstorm easily, though, showing no signs of melting and not even heating up significantly according to his own thermal senses.

His puppet fares far worse; even with its limbs wrapping protectively around itself, the blistering heat is inescapable. Celestia sedately walks across the chamber’s floor, visible waves of plasma blasting off of her and washing across his puppet’s form. The mare looks over her work, finding the charred remains of her opponent pushed into a corner and unmoving. Seeing the match is won, her flames recede and the ethereal white glow of her coat dims back to its normal color.

“That was rather more challenging than I expected,” she muses contemplatively, her voice sounding softer than normal. “I am unsure if I would be victorious had your puppet not been trapped in such a small room with me. In an environment where I could not risk acting as a conduit for my sun, I am unsure how I would defeat it given the difficulty of landing a clean hit.”

“I’m teleporting it out, boss. I don’t want my ring to melt and it’s getting pretty hot even under the surface.”

“Very well,” she agrees with a nod. “Take care where you send it; I would not recommend immediately submerging it in water. That would likely result in a rather violent explosion of steam.”

Cure was already aware of that. Instead, he teleports the charred lump onto a rock on the south side of the mountain with no nearby vegetation.

“As for myself,” she ponders, looking at her outstretched wing in consideration. “I believe I should go for a flight to cool off. Pardon me for a moment.” Her horn flashes, altering her form to that of Sunny Skies. Another flash has her disappear, leaving only the two behind.

Amethyst takes the break in the action to comment, “That wasn’t how I expected it ta go. Figured she’d use some fancy spell or whatnot and mop tha floor with ya.”

“Ehh… there’s not as many good attack spells as you’re thinking, ma. At least, there’s not any that she probably has ready to go at any given time and is sure she won’t miscast in an intense fight. That’s why she was mainly just blasting away. It’s faster and, as a result, safer and easier, even if it’s less effective. Besides, she didn’t really need to do anything fancy. It was basically her fight to lose no matter what I did. That said, I held back a few surprises for the next time.”

“Ah. Gonna be a recurrin thing between ya, huh?”

“You bet, momma. She’s slacked off for nine hundred years. I’m gonna spend the next ninety whippin her back in shape, one way or another.”

Author's Note

Alrighty, so first off, the closest image I could find to what Cure's creature would look like (without spending too much time on it, that is) is this picture here: https://www.enworld.org/media/spider-dragon-1-jpg.113237/full
That is not my picture and, from the description I gave, isn't really that accurate, but if you're a visual person then that's an okay reference for a starting point. That picture has wings and a visible head, neither of which would be necessary for the purposes of this spar. The wings would be better in an open environment, but in a smallish enclosed room? Meh.

So Cure obviously caught the princess with an attack or two that she wasn't prepared for. The bottom line is that if she pulls out the stops there really isn't anything he can do to her. He simply does not have the power to contest the princess on that level, and they all know it. Really, if she can prevent his talent from latching on to her, she is not a very good opponent for him. Once she goes super-Celestia there's not much he can do to her.

Also, as Cure says at the end there, this won't be the last match the two have, and the intensity will only rise as he gains in power and she re-hones her skills.

As always, thanks for reading, rating, and, especially, commenting. Enjoy!

Chapter 106: Cuisine

Friday, September 4th, 909 AB (the next day)
Breakfast

“Good morning, your highness, your majesty, Lady Minerva!” Cool Mint cheerily greets as they arrive and take their seats. She leans back through the door and makes a beckoning motion with her wing to call forth the staff, hopping closer and clopping her forehooves as she continues, “I hope you’re all very hungry on this magnificent Friday morning!”

Along with the typical fare of breakfast confections, bowls of a cereal-like mixture are slid in front of the group, the princess’s portion naturally double the others’ as Cool Mint gives her description of the meal. “Today we have a delicious and nutritious muesli, a traditional meal from the southeast regions of Maremany. Rolled oats, sun dried apricots, golden raisins, toasted pecans, slivered almonds, and a mix of yummy berries all in a slightly sweetened yogurt and seasoned with a dash of cinnamon and brown sugar. Enjoy!”

The three begin chowing down on their meals until Cure, mid bite, pauses and hits his spoonful with a Warming cantrip. Amethyst and Celestia pause to watch as he takes an experimental bite and tilts his head side to side in consideration. Finally coming to the conclusion he prefers it heated, he warms his bowl then looks to his mother questioningly. She holds up a spoonful in offering which he promptly heats. A testing bite later she shakes her head no, deciding she prefers the cooler breakfast to start the warm summer day with.

The three eat in silence for a moment, finally shattered when the colt decides to speak up. “So I was thinking -”

“You poor thing,” Celestia interrupts. “Shall I fetch you an ice pack?”

The withering glare he shoots her is met with a smug smirk.

“Funny. So, as I was saying, I was thinking I should do something for the night shift guards, too. The day guards have had unlimited snacks and drinks all week, plus I’ve been able to grab anypony who came in with something wrong with them. The night guard, on the other hoof, hasn’t been able to take advantage of the clinic while I’ve been asleep.”

“So… you are proposing that you open your clinic overnight?”

“Yup.”

“Tonight?”

“Sure. Why not?”

“Will that not tire you out? You do recall we have dinner plans this evening and you have dance class with Azure and Misty tomorrow morning.”

He brushes the concern away with a flick of his hoof. “Not a problem, boss. I’ve been getting up every Saturday morning at three for junior guard training for months now. I can just take a nap after dance tomorrow if need be.”

“I suppose if you are certain,” she tentatively agrees, turning to Amethyst to ask, “assuming your mother approves as well?”

His mom shrugs indifferently and bobs her head. “He’ll be fine.”

“Very well. I will send a message to the Medic Corps to see if anypony is available this evening.”

“No need,” he assures her. “I’ll prepare the paperwork showing everything I did in the morning before I go to meet the girls. It’s not like I really need somepony to step out in the lobby and call out ‘Next!’ and I don’t see a fight breakin out if somepony tries to cut in line.”

Celestia spends a moment mulling the suggestion over. On one hoof, the idea of having a foal working overnight does not appeal to her at all, even if he and his mother both insist he will be okay doing so. On another hoof, the day shift guards have been absolutely singing his praises, both in thanks for his treatment of several of their fellow guardsponies and for his offering of free, unlimited, and impossibly high quality refreshments.

A final thought occurs to the mare explaining why Cure may wish to remain awake tonight instead of going to bed with his mother; Sunny Skies has plans for the evening. Cure has already explained that he could, in all likelihood, find her anywhere in town by scent alone. While she could likely come up with some way to evade him, there is a far simpler solution available: Talk to him as if he is an honest, reasonable pony.

Her horn ignites, firing off a spell to surround the three in a privacy bubble. Both pause their eating to take in the blurred surroundings before turning to her with questioning looks. “I will allow it, but I do have one request. Please do not take this as an accusation, Cure, but as you know,” she glances to Amethyst, “and as he may have told you-”

“I’m pretty sure I haven’t.” He rolls the hoof holding his empty spoon in the air and adds, “Or if I did then I don’t remember doing so.”

She nods in acceptance and continues, “- I have begun dating a pegasus couple. A stallion and a mare.”

“Good fer you, princess,” his mother cheers. “Ya ought’a have the colt give ‘em the ‘deluxe upgrade.’ Lemme tell ya, honey, there ain’t nothin like gettin stre-”

“Ahem,” Cure loudly interrupts. He waves at the half empty bowl in front of himself, complaining, “I’m friggin eatin warmed up yogurt here, ma. C’mon!”

“- … that’s fair.” She leans closer to the princess to whisper, “I’ll tell ya later,” and gives her an exaggerated wink.

Celestia fights to stave off the blush creeping up her neck, clearing her throat before she continues, “As I was saying, Cure?”

“Hm?” he hums around a mouthful of food.

“I know you are mature for your age, but on occasion you also act a little foalish…”

The colt’s eyes widen. He recoils and grasps at his chest in mock offense.

“... and while I am not saying you would, it is not difficult for me to imagine that you could follow me this evening. I ask that you do not do so. Please.”

“Say no more, boss,” he assures her. “The last thing I want to do is throw a wrench in yer plans. I promise that I will make absolutely no attempt whatsoever to follow you, conveniently bump into you, keep an eye on you, just happen to be where you end up, or do anything else to intrude on or monitor your plans for this evening,” he insists with a firm nod.

Struck momentarily speechless, she notes, “That is appreciated, if not somewhat more thorough than I was hoping for.”

Cure shrugs and bobs his head. “I’m not surprised that it is, but when you go out this evening I don’t want there to be any shred of worry in your mind about me doing something that could possibly ruin yer night. Hay, if I had the ability to do so, I’d even play wingpony for ya. You know; have a puppet pretend to be you and, if ya wanted me to, even sleep in yer room so you’re seen in the castle.

“Hay, I’d even raise the sun for ya if I could. I can’t quite convincingly fake the mane, though, and I don’t have the juice ta shift the ladies,” he motions up towards the sky, “just yet, unfortunately.”

Celestia blinks a few times in surprise, genuinely shocked that the colt would be willing to go that far to help her. “Really?”

“You bet, boss. I’ve been sayin you need a break for… well, almost a year now, I suppose. If I had it in me to let ya sleep in once in a while I wouldn’t mind one bit. Hay, I’m already up every Saturday way before dawn anyhow, so what’s it to me if I raise the sun before going home to take a nap?”

Piece said, the colt shrugs and continues stuffing his face. Seeing no need to continue their private conversation, Celestia dispels the bubble surrounding them. “Perhaps when you are staying here while attending school I will take you up on your offer, assuming you are capable by the time your education is completed.”

“Sounds like a plan.”

“Very well,” she accepts, “then I shall inform the captain of your plans for the evening.”

“Cool. Two more things. Can you do me a favor and ask her to also tell the bats that are off duty tonight? I don’t want them missin out just ‘cause they happen to be off this weekend.”

“Certainly. We will ensure that they are made aware as well.”

“Great. Then the last thing I need is a note for the lawyer.”

As Cure finishes with his third patient of the morning, his attention is drawn to an oddity outside his clinic. A well dressed unicorn couple, a dark gray stallion and peach colored mare, are marching a younger, light pink mare between them towards his front door. He had told the gate guards to let ponies by if there was an urgent need for treatment, so that in and of itself is not terribly unusual. What makes the group stand out, aside from the way they have her boxed in, is the state of the younger mare.

Since he started his cosmetic business, Cure has had more ponies cry around or on him than he could count without using his talent to tally them up. The vast majority of those have been tears of joy or, often, of relief, thankfully. The streaks of tears spilling forth from this mare can only be of despair.

He is confident that even despite all of the patients he’s seen with disabilities, diseases, deformities, or other health related problems, he has never seen somepony that looked so completely and utterly defeated. The term suicidal comes to mind, but the young mare or, perhaps, older filly, looks like she can barely manage the effort needed to keep on her hooves, never mind expend the meager energy necessary to plan one’s own demise. If it weren’t for her presumptive parents practically carrying her, he can easily imagine her falling on her face, flopping to one side or the other, and laying there until death claimed her.

Guards and other visitors milling about sense the nearly palpable cloud of misery in the air, instinctively moving clear of the group as they march their way to his door. The stallion’s horn ignites, pulling both doors wide open as they approach, not slowing their march in the least as they pass through. Cure instantly has a pretty good guess as to what’s going on when the three cross the threshold and their biological info comes streaming into his mind.

All heads follow the three unicorns as they make their way across the lobby, stopping at the station mared by Serene Glade. Speaking as softly as she can, the dam leans forward and exchanges a quick, hushed conversation with the light green mare. Sensing that Serene is just moments away from dismissing the group, Cure leans out his door and clears his throat to get her attention. All eyes snap to the shorter alicorn who assures her, “It’s alright. I’ll see them now, Nurse Glade. If you could, please, let my next patient know that I’ll only be a moment.”

A look of relief flashes across both adults as they escort their daughter past the desk and into his room. “I cannot thank you enough for seeing us, your highness,” the stallion begins. “I don’t believe we’ve had the pleasure to meet prior to today. We’ll endeavor to take as little of your time as possible.” He pauses to look back and nod when the older mare closes the door behind them. “I am Baron Moneybags of House Bitmore and this is my wife, Lady Merrilee Bounce, and our daughter, Jubilee Prance.”

“Charmed,” Cure replies, offering a hoof for a bump which is quickly returned.

The stallion continues, “We have, unfortunately, found ourselves in a bit of a predicament and, knowing your highness has graced all of Canterlot with his presence, sought your esteemed assistance before the situation deteriorated any further. Our daughter absconded from our estate last night without permission to rendezvous with an admirer.

“A good friend caught sight of her on the way to her destination and volunteered her location when we began searching for her upon discovering her vacated bedroom this morning. I can only thank the stars we found her before it became necessary to involve the Guard.”

Head hung and eyes closed, Jubilee mumbles something so softly Cure didn’t even catch it.

“Enough, dear,” Merrilee chides. “We need not concern his highness with trivialities.” She plasters on a fake smile when Cure quirks a brow in question, but chooses not to repeat the daughter’s statement.

“Ohh…kaay,” he hesitantly begins. “Well, first things first, I need to know how old Miss Jubilee is.”

“Fourteen,” Moneybags instantly answers, withdrawing the filly’s birth certificate from his breast pocket and offering it to the colt. He had clearly expected the question based on how quickly he answered and provided the proof.

Cure gives the document a quick look-over before passing it back. She is indeed fourteen, though she will turn fifteen in the coming January. “Okay. So, Jubilee, what can I help you with today?”

With his hearing turned up almost all the way, he barely makes out the “Nothing.” she mumbles almost into the mossy carpet. Not giving her a chance to further clarify, her dam jumps in to explain, “As the Alicorn of Life, I can only presume that, despite his highness's age, he is familiar with how foals are… created… no?”

“Of course his highness is, dearest,” Moneybags interrupts. “The papers credited him with over a thousand healthy foals delivered thus far.”

I'm a clipped tone she argues, “That does not automatically mean anypony explained the process, Money. There is no harm in asking.”

“I know about how life is created,” he assures them, stepping in before the back and forth can continue. He waves to Jubilee and inquires, “Am I to assume you rushed here to prevent an unintended pregnancy?”

“If we are not already too late, your highness,” Merilee responds, nodding enthusiastically.

“I love him!” Jubilee hisses, stamping her forehoof on the floor. “I want the baby!”

“You are too young to be making such decisions!” her dam argues back. She jabs a scolding hoof in her daughter's face and growls, “Do not make a scene in front of his highness!”

“Let's all take a calming breath, okay? We don't want my guards hearing raised voices and jumping to conclusions, do we?”

Moneybags pales at the suggestion, nodding frantically, “We most assuredly do not!”

“Exactly. So, first off,” he turns to face Jubilee, “you are not pregnant. There is no baby.”

Both parents sag, exhaling in relief.

“But my estrus…”

“You are not pregnant yet,” he repeats, emphasizing the last part. “If we let nature take its course then perhaps you would end up with foal, but you are not right now.”

“Can you prevent it?” Merilee asks, holding her breath in anticipation.

“I can if you want, which is why I agreed to see you right away.”

“Please,” she begs, visibly restraining herself from hugging the colt.

“No!” Jubilee shouts, backing away towards the door. “They just don't want it because he's not good enough,” she insists in a mocking tone.

“Now darling,” Moneybags argues, attempting to calm her down, “his highness is very busy. He doesn't have time to entertain your-”

“He's an earth pony!” she shouts, cutting her sire off. Both adults wince and an uncomfortable silence fills the room. “If he was a unicorn they would be thrilled that I found a stallion at all, but since he isn't, all of the sudden he's not good enough!”

“Miss Jubilee, I could tell from your scans he was probably an earth pony. That doesn't matter here. What does matter is that you're a minor and- Wait… how old is he?!”

“Fifteen!” she snaps.

Cure pans his gaze to the sire who nods in confirmation. “He just turned fifteen this June. No laws have been broken, as best we can ascertain.”

“Good. That's a relief.”

“How?” Merrilee inquires. She coughs to clear her throat and clarifies, “How could you tell he is an earth pony?”

Cure’s face twists in an ugly grimace. “Well, there's the difference in the sperm, for one, then there's the physical signs and the… uh… quantity.” The disgusted look on the mare’s face tells him she regrets asking.

He turns back to Jubilee and continues, “Just to be perfectly clear, Miss Jubilee, am I to assume everything that happened was consensual?” The filly mouths the word unsurely. “It means you didn’t say no. Not to pry too much, but you were not forced, correct?”

“Of course not! We’re getting married!”

“You’re getting or you are married?” he inquires.

“We’re not married yet.”

Moneybags quickly interrupts, confirming, “They are not married, nor has there been any such proposal. She is wholly convinced that he is ‘the one,’ as they say. We, obviously, have reservations.”

“Okay. That makes the situation less convoluted. So as I was saying, his tribe doesn't matter to me. What does matter is that you're a minor and you are not currently pregnant.” The filly collapses on the floor and begins bawling as Cure continues, “While there is no approved medical procedure to prevent conception, it is a trivial thing for me, and despite your objections, I am compelled by Equestrian law to, in most circumstances, provide minors with medical care as requested by their legal guardians.

“That includes contraception, even as unorthodox as the method may be. If you and this stallion decided to have a foal come next year then you'll both be adults, so it’s a whole different story at that point. Understood?”

Crying and shaking uncontrollably on the floor, she doesn't seem to hear the colt's question. Merrilee lays on her right, leaning against her daughter to comfort her, but Jubilee is completely unresponsive.

“Look,” Cure softly begins, slowly approaching the girl, “I have seen a situation like this come up before.” He turns, laying against her left and drapes his wing over her back in a hug, resting his cheek against her neck. “In fact, it’s bizarre how similar the situations are. The difference is that back then, I didn’t know what my special talent was, so I couldn’t help them. They struggled an awful lot as a result.

“If you want my advice, be an adult for a few years. Have some fun. Do the things every foal wants to do when they’re finally old enough. Experience the world for a couple years, then, when you’re ready, make a plan for what you’ll do when you do have a foal. When the time comes, send me a letter.” Both parents' brows shoot into their manes, misinterpreting the colt’s offer. He hastily continues, “I’ll be happy to give you a checkup beforehoof to make sure you’re in perfect health and, if I’m going to be around, I’ll be there to ensure an easy, painless delivery. Okay?”

The young mare silently nods in acceptance, wiping tears off her face with her fetlocks. Cure’s horn flashes gold, Teleporting in a fancy, embroidered handkerchief with his mark in the corners. He offers it to the filly who takes it in her magic, quickly filling it to the brim.

With one last nuzzle and a quick squeeze of his wing he rises to his hooves. “Now, I hate to sound insensitive, but unfortunately I do have another thirty some-odd ponies from all over the country coming here this morning.” He meets both parents' eyes, saying, “You are all set. As she is right now, Jubilee will not get pregnant this season. Unless there’s anything else I can help you with today, I’d best get back to my growing backlog before my lobby fills up, okay?”

Moneybags nods in acceptance. “Certainly, your highness. It goes without saying, but if the opportunity to return this favor should ever arise, please do not hesitate to contact us.”

“I’ll consider us even if you just do one thing.”

“Anything, your highness!”

“Great! The only thing I ask is that whoever your daughter falls in love with, don’t interfere for no reason other than his tribe. Pegasus, earth pony, hippogriff, zebra, or whatever. As long as the dude is going to make her happy and take good care of her, don’t do anything to make it more difficult than it needs to be.”

A few minutes later

Until recently, Cure has rarely had the opportunity to simply walk around the city. With the creation of his portal rings, he has more freedom than he could have hoped for until reaching adulthood.

Happily trotting along the streets, Cure takes his time making his way to his lawyer’s office for a second visit this week, though this time he is traveling alone and in disguise.

Knowing a lone unicorn stallion walking around Canterlot is always going to get attention, the colt decides to create an appearance that will not overly stand out in the crowd. Average height. Average build. Average horn. Light brown coat. Onyx mane. Even his cutie mark is relatively mundane; a yellow, uppercase T in a thick, red ring. The only feature that would draw any eyes is his goatee, a rather uncommon facial hairstyle, but one the colt couldn’t help but include.

With a skip in his step, he makes his way into the office complex, beelining for the staircase to the second level. The same receptionist is on duty as the other day and, in the exact same tone as his first visit, she calls out, “Good morning and welcome to Grant, Best, and Bookshire, how may I assist you?”

“And a wonderful morning to you, miss,” he returns with a dip of his chin. “I have a nine o’clock with Mr. Grant. Would you please inform him that Mr. Morrow is here to see him?” He levitates a short stack of bits out of his mane to cover the cost of the appointment along with a scroll sealed in wax with the princess’s mark imprinted upon it.

The stylized sun earns a sharp inhale from the mare who ducks her head in an approximation of a bow, despite the act being wholly unnecessary for somepony simply conveying a message from her majesty’s desk. “Right away, Mr. Morrow!” she assures him, hastily tucking the scroll under her wing and shooting to her hooves. She bolts to the stallion’s door, pushes it open, and darts inside, not even bothering to knock or put Cure’s payment in the deposit slot under her desk.

It’s not even thirty seconds later when the door opens wide and she skips back out, chuckling in embarrassment at not collecting his payment. “Go right on ahead, Mr. Morrow! Mr. Grant will see you now!”

“Thank you, my dear,” he gratefully nods as he passes by her desk.

Certain Grant is sitting behind his desk just as he was before, though this time his eyes are affixed to the unrolled scroll before him. He looks up as Cure climbs in the same seat he did the other day; the one opposite the desk on the attorney’s left. “It is not every day that one receives a letter written by her majesty herself.”

“I would assume not, Mr. Grant. She does strike me as a rather busy pony, after all.”

“Quite right, but where are my manners? Certain Grant, Esquire,” he introduces, leaning forward to offer his hoof.

Cure leans forward to return the gesture in kind, “I go by Thomas or Mr. Morrow, if you prefer. A pleasure.”

“Very good. According to her majesty’s letter, the veracity of which I have little doubt, I am to accept whatever claims you are here to make as truth, no matter how outlandish they may appear. Unfortunately,” he taps the letter twice with his right forehoof, “her majesty did not see fit to explain what those claims may include.”

“Indeed not,” Cure agrees, “and for a very valid reason. If I may, Mr. Grant, is your office equipped with a privacy ward system?”

“It is indeed, though I’ve only had need of it on rare occasions.”

“I believe this is one of those, sir. If you could, please?”

“Very well,” he agrees, igniting his horn. Cure recognizes the now familiar feeling of the wards engaging, effectively blocking out any would-be attempts to listen in or scry the room. The windows blur the outside world and, for the briefest moment, lines of magic are visible on the floor, ceiling, and walls.

Cure casts a couple quick diagnostic spells to ensure the wards’ integrity, then nods in acceptance. “What I am about to tell you is confidential; not only in that you are now my attorney, but also as a matter of national security. You were vetted by her majesty’s investigators and approved as a candidate to represent me in upcoming negotiations with her government. Specifically, negotiations regarding knowledge and technologies that Equestria lacks with which I have varying degrees of familiarity, many of which have commercial applications that, if fleshed out, could very well change the world.”

The stallion slowly nods, taking in the information. “May I inquire as to how you came about these… familiarities?”

Cure sighs theatrically and shakes his head no. “Unfortunately, I am not at liberty to share that information. She directly asked that I do not. The How is ultimately not terribly important, but the What will change the world.” He pauses a beat for drama’s sake and adds, “Eventually. Not as they are right now, but… eventually.”

Grant’s eyes flick between the stallion sitting across from him and the unrolled scroll on his desk. He takes a deep breath and blows out a long sigh, allowing his eyes to drift across some of the nautical decorations on his shelves. “I must admit, I am intrigued. Perhaps you could provide some detail or, preferably, an example as to what you are proposing.”

“Okay. A very simple example. I presume from your décor that you enjoy boating?”

“I do.”

“Have you ever sailed into unfamiliar waters and been concerned you may hit a shallow reef or run aground?”

Grant slowly nods. “I rarely stray from well charted areas, but I’ll admit… the worry has plagued me on occasion.”

“And if I told you that, with some research and development, a device could be created that can accurately tell you how deep the water in front and underneath your ship is?”

“How?”

“Sound travels under water just as it does above. Faster, in fact, due to water being denser than air. If I tap your desk, for example,” he leans forward and gives it a gentle rap with the outside of his hoof, “you can hear it, but it isn’t loud. Put your ear against the desk and do it again and you’ll see what I mean. If you could measure how long it takes for a sound to be emitted, bounce off a surface, and return, you can calculate the depth of the water.”

The stallion shakes his head in incomprehension. “I am afraid my university studies did not include many of the sciences. It sounds feasible, I’ll admit, but I am presuming you do not have a schematic or working prototype?”

“I do not, which is why I’m not applying for a patent. I just need somepony to represent my interests when I meet with the ponies who will be capable of taking the theoretical and, with what guidance I can provide, some time, and a great deal of work, turn it into reality. The things I know… I cannot begin to put a value on them, but think of a piece of technology; the train, for example. You may have a very basic idea of how a steam engine operates, no?”

Grant tilts his head side to side. “Vaguely? I understand water is heated, thus… spinning something, I believe?”

Cure shrugs and bobs his head. “At its most basic, yes. Now, what if you’d had that knowledge five hundred years ago? You may not be able to build a steam engine, but if you could convince somepony with the resources to develop it -”

“Such as her majesty.”

He motions to the attorney with a hoof, “Such as her majesty, then think of how far along engine technology could be by now. Perhaps vessels such as your ship or even a carriage may be driven by a much smaller version of that same engine. Perhaps even craft capable of flight like a pegasus. Who knows? Sometimes it just takes somepony knowing something is possible to make it happen.”

“And you know what is possible?” the stallion questions.

Cure nods with a mirthless chuckle. “I do, Mr. Grant. I know a whole lot of things are possible that nopony has ever even imagined.”

As the week wore on with no signs of infiltrating changelings, Cure came to accept the likelihood that he wasn’t going to find anything amiss. On one hoof, he can freely admit that he’s disappointed not to have the opportunity to scan a new intelligent species, especially one that seems like it would be so drastically different from any other. On another hoof, having the last patient’s scan confirm that the upper echelons of Celestia’s government are infiltrator-free is a massive relief.

He’d long since considered that an infiltrator reaching that level while the bulk of the creatures are locked away is extremely unlikely. A single changeling disguising themselves as a typical guardspony for a long period of time would be difficult enough, but to replace somepony that cannot easily fade into the background would be almost impossible without an expansive network to provide aid and support.

Of course, that’s assuming a lone changeling could even survive long enough to make their way north to Equestria. The lands south of the Appaloosan Mountains are apparently not very hospitable, and without anycreature to feed off of, a changeling may starve to death well before finding civilization even if they aren’t killed off by any random monster they encounter.

With the looming threat of changelings finally dismissed, Cure finishes with his final scheduled patient and sends them on their way, then retires to his office to prepare for his upcoming meeting with Director Storm. The desk he had been using is removed, replaced with shelves of products he had discussed with his family.

It doesn’t take long for the light gray mare to show up. She and an unfamiliar unicorn stallion are dropped off in separate carriages just inside the castle gates, chatting for a moment before making their way to his clinic.

<< Hey Tia, Director Storm just showed up with some unicorn stallion. Cream coat, brown mane, kinda short, thick glasses. Has the total bookworm look down pat. Were you going to come to this meeting? >>

<< I am so sorry, Cure, but I got pulled into an unexpected meeting. The stallion is Final Tally. He is the product manager for anything involving your brand. I will join you as soon as my meeting is concluded. >>

<< No worries, boss. You do your thing and I’ll take care of this. Don’t forget we have dinner plans in a couple hours. >>

The front door opening draws his attention back to his surroundings. His magic washes over the pair as they step into the clinic, verifying that both are indeed ponies and have no immediate health concerns. He trots up to the doorway and waves them in with his wing. “Come on back into my office, Director Storm, Mr. Tally. I have everything set up back here.”

The mare all but skips her way through the lobby, rounds the desk, and scoops the colt up in a hug. “How is my favorite medical marvel of a stallion?!”

Cure leans into her, figuring if mares want to snuggle on him it’s his Harmony-given duty to oblige them. That doesn't stop him from shooting his guards a thoroughly unimpressed look over her shoulder, but they all studiously avoid his gaze, struggling not to laugh at his plight. He does his best to match her warmth, insisting, “It's good to see you too, Mrs. Storm.”

She releases him a merciful moment later, giving the stallion an opportunity to approach. He dips his head in a shallow bow. “Your highness. It is a pleasure. As we've never met, I presume her majesty told you I would be attending today?”

“She sure did.” Two friggin seconds ago, he mentally grouses. “Come on in and make yourselves comfortable,” he offers, motioning to the two couches. “We've got a lot to go over. Unfortunately, the princess had something come up, so it'll just be us for a while.”

The pair accept the invitation, each climbing up on the couch on the west wall, leaving the south one available for the princess whenever she arrives. They no more than get situated before Cure begins, “So the goal here is to develop a line of health products under my brand that will be competitively priced, thus offering good value for the consumer while not driving anypony out of business. I do not want the same thing to happen here as I unintentionally did to DME manufacturers and the zebras.”

“I’m sorry,” Tally interrupts, raising his hoof as if he’s a foal in class. “DME manufacturers?”

“Durable Medical Equipment,” Dir. Storm explains. “Companies that make prosthetics, disability trolleys, casts, and so forth. With his highness’s origin cell trees and his miraculous healing, his presence alone has sent several companies into an absolute tizzy while trying to adapt to a quickly changing market.” She turns back to the colt and firmly insists, “Don’t you worry about them. That’s the nature of business. If somepony comes along that you can’t compete with, you either find another market or you struggle. Besides, even if you worked a hundred hours a week you’d still never be able to see everypony that needs you.”

Cure shrugs and bobs his head in agreement. “I don’t disagree with you, but at the same time an unexpected alicorn popping up isn’t exactly something a business would normally plan for. Regardless, Mr. Tally?”

“Sir?”

“I am going to have to rely on you and the ponies under you to ensure that anything brought to the market under my brand name doesn’t bankrupt everypony else. My manufacturing costs are almost nothing. My quality and effectiveness is unassailable. The only points of competition I can come up with are my limits on production and price point. I don’t want to rip anypony off, but I don’t want to undercut everypony else on the market at the same time, so I’m charging you and your staff with developing a market strategy that makes a noble effort, at least, to satisfy those requirements.”

“We… can try?” he hesitantly ventures. “If I may make a suggestion?” Cure waves to go ahead. “We may wish to consider partnering with existing manufacturers rather than competing with them. Thus far all of your highness’s creations essentially ‘grow’ themselves, correct?”

“Yeah, and you can just say ‘you,’ Mr. Tally. My head’s not so far up my own plot that I insist on the whole ‘royal’ address in private meetings.”

Both ponies chuckle lightly and nod in understanding. “Of course, sir. As I was saying, if you intend to continue that trend…” he says leadingly, prompting Cure to nod, “then that still means that your products will need to be packaged, shipped, and distributed to retail outlets. The companies that you could be competing with could, instead, be licensed the means to manufacture your products and, with some reworking of their supply chain, take advantage of their already existing distribution channels to provide the product in more markets than we could feasibly do for some time.

“That is, assuming you don’t already have a factory hidden somewhere out there, sir.”

“No, not a factory, per se. More of a lab, of sorts.”

Director Storm blinks and cocks her head to the side in question. “You have a lab?”

“Kind of?” At her continued stare he explains, “I have a place where I can safely prototype designs.”

“I would love to see it someday.”

Cure idly shrugs his wings. “Honestly? There’s not much to see, and nothing is set up for a physical presence. I interface with it all via the same interlink that my VINESS suite uses.”

The mare actually pouts at the colt, bottom lip sticking out and all.

“Don’t give me that look!” he huffs, turning away. “It’s easier to keep it secured if nopony knows where it is.”

“I believe we may be getting off topic,” Tally points out. “What are your thoughts on my proposal?”

“Tentatively? I’m for it. I could, theoretically, do the packaging and everything myself, but I don’t want to put all the hours into doing that if somepony else can more efficiently take care of it. Also, it’s not like I’m doing this to get rich. I just want to ensure that I have sufficient funds available for any philanthropic pursuits I may have when I’m older.”

Tally nods along, noting, “Given the value of your other creations, I don’t foresee that being a problem at all.”

“Awesome! That’s what I like to hear. So how about we talk about some of the products I’ve put together so far?”

“Certainly, your highness. Where would you like to start?”

“How about with something that’s applicable right now in particular?” He ignites his horn, levitating a long, thin, wooden box over to show the pair. There are four separate pieces visible through the glass panel on the lid; a half-meter long stick with a grip on one end and, on the other, a soft looking suction cup-like device, two tubes that look like ointment or toothpaste, and fourteen individually wrapped capsules slightly larger than a grape.

“This right here,” he begins, “is a more effective treatment for mares concerned about their upcoming estrus. I have two versions; one just to help with the urges and scent, then another for anypony that is not interested in having a foal, but still wants to enjoy the season to its fullest.”

Paying no heed to the darkening of the adults’ cheeks and ears, Cure flips open the box and withdraws the wand. “It’s very simple. About a week before estrus is scheduled to begin, the mare will take the little fella here,” he instructs, waving the wand for them to see, “clean it really well with the included antimicrobial gel,” he continues, withdrawing one of the tubes with his aura and squeezing some out.

He uses his magic to slather the gel on and continues, “or, I guess, use a Cleaning crystal or cantrip if you can. It only takes a moment for that to evaporate off. It’s basically an alcohol solution, so it’ll kill almost everything. I suppose you could just rinse the wand to be safe.”

“Probably a good idea if that’s what I suspect it is,” Dir. Storm volunteers.

“Yeah, that might be wise. Either way, the lube will neutralize any remnants, so no painful insertion if you’re doing it right. Anyhow, you put one of the daily suppositories on the end here,” he explains, demonstrating how the suction cup melds itself around the capsule, holding it in place. “Then lube ‘em up as much as is necessary. There should be more than enough for fourteen applications.”

He levitates out a thick glob of faintly pink colored gel from the second tube and spreads that on the wand overtop the capsule and down its length to the grip, which is a thicker, cushioned piece that makes up the last ten centimeters of the unit.

“Once it’s ready to go you slowly, gently work the lil guy on up in there as far as it’ll comfortably go,” he explains, holding the wand sideways and slowly pantomiming easing it into an imaginary receptacle, occasionally wiggling it a little from side to side. “Once it’s in place there’s a release button right here on the grip,” he points out, using his free hoof to press a previously unnoticed button. The capsule on the end promptly releases, falling to the floor with a wet “plonk” sound and sticking in place.

All six eyes in the room are staring at the sticky, wet capsule sitting on the ground right between the colt’s legs when the door opens wide. Celestia strolls into the room in a rush, speaking before taking in the scene. “I am sorry for my tardiness, but matters of state…” she drifts off, looking between the smiling, waving colt and the two darkly blushing adults.

“Heya, boss! I just finished the demonstration, but that’s no problem! I got thirteen more shots. How bout you go ahead and take a seat,” he says, waving his left wing to the empty couch beside him, “and I’ll show you what ya missed out on!”

“Really, Cure, did you have to be so cruel to them?”

Lounged on the opposite bench, the young alicorn sits up from between Amethyst’s forelegs, cocking a brow in question. “What’d I do?” he innocently asks. “I was just demonstrating health products, just like I was supposed to.”

“Estrus treatments, contraceptives, laxative suppositories, hemorrhoid creams, scent-altering capsules? You barely spent two minutes talking about your laceration ointment, muscle relaxing patches, or vitamin supplements, and don’t get me started on the protective sheaths you demonstrated!”

“No way,” Amethyst snorts, barking out a laugh. “Please tell me you didn’t demonstrate how a condom works.”

“Of course not!” he snaps. “I’m a freaking foal! That would be going way too far. I did provide documentation on how to properly use the thing, which is an absolute necessity, but as far as a demonstration, all I did was blow one up like a balloon,” he defensively insists.

“I must say that the elasticity of the units is impressive,” Celestia grants. “I had not expected them to be capable of expanding to that degree. Still, the amount of knowledge you displayed about reproduction is far beyond what a foal your age should be aware of.”

“I have full, unimaginably detailed anatomical scans of over five thousand creatures, tens of thousands of animals, and maker-knows-how-many bugs, insects, and other smaller critters, Celestia. I see more sex in two minutes of scanning the woods than most ponies will see in a hundred years. I am the Alicorn of Life. How could I not know everything there is to know about the creation of it?! Besides… we agreed that stuff will be marketed under another brand name ‘till I’m older anyhow.”

The elder alicorn fixes the colt with an annoyed stare for several long seconds. It’s a look that would leave nearly anypony quaking in their shoes, but Cure weathers it with grace, resting his chin back on his mother’s foreleg when no further argument is forthcoming. A moment of silence passes before the colt can’t help but groan. “Why? Why do we have to take a carriage?! Why can’t I just Teleport us there?”

Celestia snorts and shakes her head. “If you believe you are capable of Teleporting us and the twenty guards all the way across Canterlot then you can be my guest.”

“You could. Easily. Don’t even pretend you couldn’t.”

“I have no way of knowing where there is a clear spot to teleport everypony to.”

“Oh, so you don’t know how to cast a scrying spell, huh? No way to, oh, I dunno, take a peek from up above? Or, easiest solution, have a few pegasi fly over there, clear a designated area, then teleport to that spot?”

The mare huffs and turns away, looking out the carriage window. “Always an answer to everything,” she mutters. In a chiding tone, she complains to herself, “I suppose I cannot fault an impatient foal for behaving like one. I can only hope that your patience grows at the same pace you do over the coming years. Besides, we are nearly there.”

“Ugh, ‘bout freaking time,” he grumps, rolling to his hooves. He hops down onto the floor before the carriage comes to a stop, brushing the few stray hairs from his mom’s coat off of his suit and straightening his tie. Just as he had when arriving, Cure fashioned himself a fancy suit for their dinner out, though Amethyst declined his offer to do the same for her. Arguing that if going nude is good enough for the princess, it’s good enough for her too, she chose to maturely goad the colt over his choice to accept Title’s dare during his coronation.

Just as on his date with the pegasi fillies, the carriage door opens to a rolled out red carpet. Though there are a number of photographers snapping away, the volume in Canterlot isn’t as great as in his hometown; the ponies of the city being well-accustomed to seeing the princess out and about. Despite being the closest to the door, Cure simply stares up at his elder with an increasingly impatient look, sighing theatrically and tapping with a hind hoof on the carriage floor.

Celestia smiles beautifully at the colt, taking her sweet time to stretch her neck and forelegs, unfolding one wing, then the other, then daintily climbing down to stand overtop of him.

He reaches up and pokes her chest with his wing. “Boss, if you don’t get yer royal hiney out that door I’m gonna bite ya. Don’t think I won’t do it!”

She leans down and nuzzles into his mane, cooing, “You are just too adorable when you are getting impatient!” A long, wet tongue gives him a grooming lick from the base of his ear all the way to the top and, not giving him the opportunity to respond, the mare gracefully slinks out of the carriage and smiles, daintily waving a wing for the reporters. “Good evening, my little ponies!”

Cure charges his horn to teleport the two bottles in, wincing in pain when a surge destabilizes his spell. He glares up at the smirking mare who calls back, “Come along, Lady Minerva, Serpentus. I see Prince Blueblood’s carriage is already here. We do not want to leave them waiting.”

Amethyst nearly cackles as she skips past the colt, planting a quick exaggerated smooch on his snout as she slips by. Cure follows hot on her tail, dutifully plastering on a fake smile and waving to everypony as he trots down the aisle of guards and reporters, past the bowing doorponies, and into the restaurant.

The group barely pauses for a moment inside the lobby, with Cure only catching the tail end of the conversation between Celestia and the maître d'. After having everypony focus on him as the center of attention it feels almost strange to have somepony else in the party stealing the spotlight. It’s not a completely unwelcome experience, though, and even if he is new and newsworthy, it can only be expected that the ponies of Canterlot would focus on the double-sized glowing ethereal mare leading the way.

The stallion leads the group through a door on his right and down a well-lit hallway. The décor is about what Cure expected; lush, dark red carpeting, mahogany wooden paneling, subdued, but adequate lighting from golden fixtures on the wall. He had anticipated being paraded through a main dining area so that the restaurant could show off the two alicorns, but instead the hallway ends in a door to a private room that looks more like a dining room in a rich pony’s house than a restaurant.

Though cozy, the dining room isn’t what he would consider cramped. It’s clearly sized for a small party, and the table, either coincidentally or by design, is sized for exactly eight and raised to accommodate the tallest of the group. A set of double doors is immediately to Cure’s right, but the window is too high up for him to see through it. His attention is also drawn away from it by the room’s occupants. Blueblood, his wife, and his foals all stand upon their entry to the room, though they remain silent, greeting them with warm smiles and shallow nods.

They, however, are not the target of the colt’s anxiety; eight well dressed servants all but line the walls, each one sat on their haunches staring placidly ahead like guards on duty. It takes a second for Cure to realize that one is situated directly behind each setting, dispelling his brief initial worry that he was being led into some kind of preplanned ambush.

The maître d' walks past the table to the far end and extends a hoof, bowing for the princess to take her seat at the head as is appropriate. He meets Cure’s eyes as he walks back to the entrance, similarly bowing to the opposite end of the table where a raised bench is sat with a cushion on top of it. Taking the hint, Cure trots over and gracefully hops atop it and settles in. His mother is seated next, placing her between Azure Tiara on her left and the princess to her right.

It strikes the colt as a little odd that the current and future princes are sat to the right of each alicorn, and that the two older Blueblood foals are separated from their parents, but he can’t really come up with a better seating arrangement given that there is, effectively, three parties of five, two, and one to split up.

Cure opens his mouth to greet the others, but is interrupted before he can voice a single word. A dark red unicorn stallion wearing the top half of a tuxedo seemingly appears from nowhere to the princess’s left and drops into a shallow bow. “Good evening, and welcome to La Chaumiere de Velours,” he begins in a thick Prench accent, not pausing as the eight waitstaff rush in, place fancy wine glasses in front of everypony, simultaneously twist open bottles of sparkling water, and fill them up. “I am Fleur Rouge, and I will be your captain this evening.

“If you find yourself needing anything, anything at all, I beg that you do not hesitate to speak my name and I shall be there. Dame Papillon is our executive sommelier,” he motions to a yellow unicorn mare with a dark red mane, “and will be delighted to assist with pairings throughout your meal if you desire.”

Each server steps back, only to approach again a moment later. With what must be well rehearsed synchrony they set a plate in front of their designated guest before backing away again.

Rouge explains, “Tonight’s first sampling will be charred North Zebrican sprouts in a sweet Bitalian glaze, sprinkled with sliced pine nuts and fresh, locally sourced lentil shavings. Enjoy.” Description given, the stallion drops into a bow, rises, and prances out the double doors to Cure’s right.

The young alicorn looks down at his plate, disappointed to find approximately four brussels sprouts worth of food. He looks around the room to everypony else to gauge their reactions. His mom, unsurprisingly, seems to be about as impressed as he is, and looks like she already regrets agreeing to come along.

Blueblood Senior looks like a foal on Hearth’s Warming Eve, nearly bouncing in his seat as he tucks his napkin into his suit’s collar and begins gushing about the restaurant to Celestia. She, along with Noble Due, impassively listen to the raving stallion, their placid looks not giving away their mood.

The foals are a mixed bag. Junior and Azure both happily scoop up a bite and pop them in their mouths, leaning back to savor the experience. Misty, on the other hoof, is staring at the food with her snout crinkled as if it has offended her. Seeing the most likely ally at the table is also conveniently just to his left, Cure leans over and quietly whispers to the filly, “Have you eaten here before?”

Shifting to her right, she closes in to quietly respond. “Yes. Unfortunately. This is all but daddy’s private dining room here. He brings guests all the time and forces us to come along. Or, forces me, I suppose. They,” she nods to her siblings, “like it here.”

“The quality of the food is unbeatable, Misty,” Junior quickly defends. “Everywhere in the city pales in comparison. Go on,” he says, motioning to Cure’s plate, “give it a try and you will see. The flavor packed into such a simple dish is simply astounding!” Suggestion made, Junior glances around the room to meet Dame Papillon’s eyes and nods towards his empty glass. The mare nearly dances to his side with a bottle in her aura, opening it and presenting the cork to the older foal. He gives it a single sniff and nods in approval, smiling serenely as she pours him a serving.

Cure is almost floored when she turns and presents the cork to him as well. Mentally shrugging, he takes a whiff of the offered beverage and nods in acceptance. A cleared throat from the opposite end of the table puts a halt to the mare’s pour before it can begin. “Now, now, Serpentus, you have patients to see this evening, do you not?”

“In like… three hours!”

“You are too young,” she retorts, quickly adding, “and I know your dam would not approve.”

“But she’s halfway across the country!”

Rather than respond verbally, Celestia turns to her left to face his mother and waves a hoof in invitation.

“Princess’s right, colt. I ain’t tellin yer dam I let ya drink, even if it won’t do nothin to ya.”

Amidst the snickering family, the colt huffs and folds his forelegs across his chest, quietly grumbling under his breath. “Ya know what? Fine. Don’t pour me any wine,” he loudly instructs. “Can I get a slice of lemon for my water, at least?” he asks the room, turning to cock a brow in the elder mare’s direction. “Am I allowed to do that, your majesty?”

Celestia sighs dramatically and gives a permissive nod. “I suppose, if you must have some flavor then there is little harm in it.”

Cure smiles victoriously, turning to his right to request said lemon. A bowl of lemon slices is set on the table in front of him before he can even speak up, earning a grateful nod to the server as he backs away. Shaking in quiet laughter, the colt lifts several wedges over his glass of water, focuses for a split second, and squeezes juice into his drink. An unexpectedly sharp tang in the air has Junior and Misty both recoil away from the glass as Cure reaches out with his hoof, missing entirely when it vanishes in a flash of yellow light.

He looks up in horror as Celestia holds the glass, giving its contents a testing sniff. “Really?” she asks, voice dripping in disappointment.

“What? I didn’t add any sugar yet.”

“I am not referring to the flavor and you know it. Now behave yourself, or must I take you to the restroom?”

His bottom lip juts out in a mighty pout. “I’ll be good,” he sullenly grouses.

“Good colt,” she teases overtop the others’ quiet laughter. “Now eat your sprouts. You are holding up the next part of the meal.”

Acting overly mulishly, Cure picks up his fork in his hoof and spears a single sprout, casually popping it in his mouth. A vast number of flavors dance across his tongue, many of them he can easily place. The brussels sprout’s earthy taste is obviously the first and foremost, but the lentil and pine nuts are easily discernible as well.

The only thing that doesn’t seem familiar is the glaze, and he struggles to determine what it could be made of. It obviously has a balsamic vinegar base, and there’s a hint of the sweetness that he can tell comes from brown sugar, but something else is in there that just doesn’t seem quite right. His curiosity getting the better of him, he admits defeat and activates his talent, scanning the morsel still in his mouth.

Everypony startles when the young alicorn at the end of the table whips his napkin up to his face and nearly wretches into it. Their concern only grows when he begins wiping his tongue clean, then snatches water out from in front of Blueblood Junior, slurps it up, swishes it in his mouth, then spits it into the napkin as well. “Freaking COCKROACHES?!” he shrieks, sending the waiting staff into near hysteria. “YOU!” he growls, thrusting a hoof at the panic-stricken captain, “TAKE ME TO THE KITCHEN. NOW!”

The carriage ride back to the castle is done in almost complete silence. It’s only when the walls are visible that it is finally broken by Amethyst, who can’t help but let out a mirthless chuckle. “... single dinner costs more’n we used ta earn in a week, and tha damn place has more roaches than a Manehattan ghetto. Unbelievable.”

“I am unsure whether to be grateful for your ability or to wish that I had escaped in blissful ignorance,” Celestia sighs.

“You didn’t seem quite as grossed out as everypony else,” Cure notes.

The mare’s snout scrunches in a mild grimace. “One learns to accept the presence of such pests in food when one has no other option. I care not to ponder on the numerous times in those early years when we would blithely jest upon the nourishment and texture they would add to a meal.”

Cure can’t even stop himself from climbing off his bench, hopping up, and leaning on her left side, wrapping his forelegs and wings around her chest and over her back. “Sorry if I ruined yer dinner, Celestia. I mean… I’ve kinda gotten to where I accept that some things are in food that shouldn’t be there. I try not to scan everything before I eat it, even, ‘cause inevitably there will be something. I couldn’t just ignore how much of that sauce was literal crap, though, ya know?”

With her left wing pinned, she leans into the embrace. “I do not blame you, Cure. I suspect that neither us nor your mother would be sickened by such a thing, but I am certain that you saved somepony from a very unpleasant few days, at the least. Besides, there is no excuse for the state that the kitchen has been allowed to fall to. I do not expect everything to be immaculate, but… the ceiling, the floor, even the pans… Chef Garnish should be ashamed for his failure to maintain the high standards set by his predecessors.”

“Yeah. Just an FYI, I’ve been through the castle kitchens. They’re spotless.”

“I am relieved to hear that. I believe I will be enjoying a meal before my departure this evening. Mrs. Blossom, would you care to join me?”

“Sure thing, princess.”

“Excellent. Cure?”

“Eh, I’m gonna get the clinic opened up. Don’t worry, I’ll be fine.”

“Do you even need to eat anymore?”

“No. I still like to, though. Same reason I still brush my teeth and shower and stuff. Gotta keep myself grounded, ya know?”

“I do,” she agrees. “It is good that you take such things into consideration.”

With the carriage pulling in front of the castle, the colt nods into her mane, takes one last breath, gives the mare another squeeze, and separates from her side. The two mares head into the castle and Cure trots to the north, making his way back to his clinic to get everything ready, all the while watching and following from far overhead, tracking a certain zebra and his escort from the embassy to his home.

The unassuming robin doesn’t draw any attention as it settles in to wait, watching silently, unseen from a tree just outside the stallion’s bedroom window.

Author's Note

Did you know that it is not "brussel sprouts" but is, in fact, brussels sprouts, even if there is only one of them? I did not. Also, back in Chapter 21, not only did I wantonly use the wrong spelling, but I also should have considered that brussels sprouts are named such after the capital of Belgium and, therefore, would have a different name on Equus.
*sigh*
Continuity error #18,327,591, I suppose. Oh well.

Alright, so Celestia correctly determined that Cure had some kind of plans for the evening. What exactly is he gonna do, though? Sit and watch? Go in and murder everyone in the house? Somewhere in between? (Spoiler alert - probably the latter)

Will he do something that could get him in trouble? Will anypony know it was him? What could ~~that dastardly villain~~ our protagonist have planned? Guess we'll just see next week. Worth noting - he tends to go out of his way to try to treat the bats like equals. Him spending a night taking care of that population when they would normally struggle to see him otherwise is absolutely inline with his character.

I saw a comment or two expressing concern that Cure would get saddled with the princess's daily duty. Keep in mind that for basically the entire story Cure has been saying the princess needs a break. He doesn't have the ability to do anything now, and he won't for some time, but once he does? Would he have a problem giving her a Saturday off? No way. There's more to this, but I'll probably cover it in-story more, so I don't want to delve into it too much in the A/N section.

Alright, this is getting posted late enough as is, so enough! As always, thanks for reading, rating, and, especially, commenting. Enjoy!

Chapter 107: Prince Serpentyou

Author's Note

Once again I must bemoan the fact that FiMFiction does not support having an author's note at both the top and the bottom of the page. As a result, I can only put one up here and "Spoiler" overtop of the parts that I would strongly suggest reading after the chapter.

First off, this is really only the first half of the chapter. I hope to post the second half probably in the next few days, though I will still iterate the chapter numbers by 1, even if 108 will be pretty short.

I, personally, don't think anything in this chapter is terribly offensive, but I am exceedingly difficult to offend, and I accept the fact that one thing in particular is implied that may upset some folks, so I am going to include this trigger warning:
Cure implies that non-consensual oral penetration will occur on a sleeping victim, though it does not actually happen and the implied act is not truly sexual, even if a crude comment is made prior.

Chapter A/N - you may want to read the chapter first:
A lot of authors have their characters do stuff that, frankly, boggles the mind. This is pretty close to the line, and likely one of the dumbest things Cure will ever do, but... is it really that dumb given his capabilities and method of execution? The message is very clear for anyone with two brain cells to rub together. Though he used the snake as a proxy, thus allowing him plausible deniability, he made it very clear that he has the capability and the willingness to, at the very least, take revenge if something happens to his friends and family.

It's probably not a wholly fair position to put the guy in, but even that, in itself, is a hell of a message: You will be accounted for the actions of your nation's people, and you had better do everything in your power to let them know that there will be dire consequences if they harm anyone around the colt.

Celestia is obviously pissed off and, likely, not just at Cure. She is, after all, the one who brought him into that meeting. She may not have known that the issue would be brought up, but she knows the colt has a vengeful streak a mile wide and failed to pull him aside and tell him not to do anything to the zebras afterward, even though she had done so in the past during the PureDew fiasco.

Now she's in the difficult position where, officially, publicly, she can't really do much to him, nor can she prove he did actually do anything. Truthfully, as he had previously pointed out to the girls, there's not a whole hell of a lot she can do to him privately, either.

He just demonstrated that, martially, he could potentially defeat her. He has also successfully made the nation dependent on his healing and healing products and will soon begin uplifting their entire society, likely to the point where it would be more costly to decline than even a full-blown war may be.

She obviously doesn't trust him not to do anything else, or she wouldn't have needed to directly order him not to.

Is he an asshole for putting her in this position? There's a compelling argument that he is. Is he justified? He would argue yes and he may very well be right. If he truly trusted Celestia's ability to safeguard his family then he wouldn't have had to, but she's already failed him on more than one occasion.

It's a delicate interplay that I hope I can do justice.

As always, thank you for reading, rating, and especially commenting.

Enjoy!

Chapter 107: Prince Serpentyou

Friday, September 4th, 909 AB
Shortly after sunset

Standing just inside the grounds’ north gate, Cure and Celestia warily watch on as the line of ponies, mostly bats, continues to grow down the street. “I… had not anticipated this much of a turnout,” she slowly says, the concern clearly evident in her voice. “There must be over two hundred ponies in line already. Are you absolutely certain you will be able to see all of them?”

“Absolutely, boss. I am going to have to reconfigure my clinic to accommodate this many in a reasonable amount of time, though.”

“Re…configure your clinic?”

“Yer just usin this as an excuse ta show off, ain’t ya?”

“Oh please,” the colt scoffs. He jerks his head to the princess, arguing, “She just moved who-knows-how-many septillion kilograms, probably hundreds of thousands of kilometers in under two minutes. I don’t think anypony’s gonna soil themselves over me shifting around a few thousand kilograms a couple dozen meters after that. A few earth ponies with some rope, saws, and hammers could probably do the same thing in a night.”

Amethyst shrugs and nods in acceptance, even if she doesn’t have a clue what septillion means. It sounds like a big enough number, but last she checked nopony has tossed either the moon or the sun on a scale to get an estimate of their weight.

“What, exactly, do you have in mind?”

“Nothing too fancy. I’m just going to open it up a bit. If I’m going to see this many ponies in a reasonable amount of time then I need to streamline my workflow. It’s something I thought about a lot over this last week, but the problem is that it kinda removes the familiarity that ponies come to expect when they visit their doctor. I don’t think anypony will fault me if I kinda rush their treatments tonight, though.”

“Likely not,” she easily agrees.

Cure lights his horn as he stares at the empty clinic. With her proximity to the foal, Celestia can easily discern that he is casting no spell. Instead, he appears to be doing so merely for show. She and his mother stand idly by, watching in silence as he concentrates on his task. After several minutes of focus, the outside walls of the clinic begin to shift, seemingly expanding to cover the windows and skylights dotting the building’s surface. The front door disappears next, first receding into the building’s exterior, then being swallowed up by the lengthening wooden planks on either side. The steps are the last feature to be withdrawn into the building’s facade, leaving an oddly blank-faced building before them.

Celestia notes numerous guard patrols have slowed their pace considerably, watching on with curiosity as the young alicorn, horn alight, stares fixedly at his shifting creation.

With eerie silence, a seam begins to grow more visible along the southeast and northeast walls of the building’s face, starting at the foundation and continuing up the corner to the roof, then along the roofline to its peak before disappearing over the back and out of sight. Making nary a sound, the front of the building seems to almost lurch forward at its base; the seams between each horizontal plank widening to allow the one below it to fold down.

As cries of shock and alarm sound out from the audience, the entire face, then roof of the building tilt forward and unroll themselves like a bale of hay, spilling forth over the grass in front of its previous perimeter, and continuing on until it comes to a stop, leaving the walls that were the north, west, and south of the building intact and, aside from the colt’s office and the restroom facilities, the top of the building completely opened. The remainder of the building gradually sinks into its own foundation, lowering itself with no visible sign of the means until it is level with the rest.

“Huh. Don’t see that every day,” Amethyst flatly comments. Celestia can’t help silently nod in agreement.

The princess notes with some interest that meter-thick vines affixed to the former front and roof of the building, presumably acting as the “muscle” that eased the structure flat across the castle grounds.

Cure must have redesigned the interior of the building prior to unraveling it; gone are the support pillars, nurse’s station, and lobby furniture. What was once the ceiling and interior of the front wall is now merely an extension of the soft, mossy carpeting with no signs of the windows or skylights that were present only moments ago.

The colt’s office looks larger as well, as if he pulled the east wall further out to widen the room. In addition to the door on the northeast corner, one has been added to the southeast corner as well, and clearly legible “Enter” and “Exit” signs have been added above them. The wall between the two doors has also changed; a large, black panel of some glass-like substance covers much of the space with blocky, glowing blue print reading “Now Serving: 000” across the top.

Panning her gaze across the structure, Celestia quickly spots a wooden, chest height (on her) sign on a post that reads “Take a Number” at the nearest corner of the platform, along with a pad of paper underneath starting at 001. Another sign beside it advises that soliciting or attempting to coerce others to give up their spot in line will result in the offender’s prompt removal from the castle’s grounds.

She briefly wonders how that will be accomplished before her attention is drawn back to Cure. His glowing horn finally begins vibrating to cast an actual spell, likely answering her unasked question. Teleportation, she easily recognizes, though he executes it far, far too quickly to glean the origin and destination. The spell finalizes and plucks out a single couch from somewhere, likely the enclosed office given the flash from underneath the door, and deposits it into the expanded lobby.

Another rapid series of castings has additional furniture positioned, then the colt’s aura encases the entire refreshment area, deftly lifting the long counter and repositioning it to the center of the lobby despite its staggering size. Stalks grow up from the center of the counter, blooming at the top into a sphere of soft white light.

“I must compliment your spell proficiency, Serpentus,” she offers in genuine praise. “I have seen unicorns well into their teenage years that would not be capable of executing so many teleports in such rapid succession. And that you so effortlessly lifted and moved what must be thousands of pounds of food and beverages is a feat normally performed by entire teams.”

“Aw, geez, boss, yer gonna make me blush over here. Don’t stop, though. Praise me more, senpai!” he snickers, leaning over to nuzzle against her leg. The mare glances to Amethyst who only shrugs unknowingly in response. “Don’t worry about it; it’s a stupid reference to something that I don’t even remember the origin of. Either way, did you want to grab some tea or anything before you head… uhh… to bed. Maybe some nice chamomile to help you sleep? Wink.”

“You said wink,” she dryly notes.

“I say lots’a things,” he responds with an idle shrug. “Either way, I hope you have a wonderfully relaxing and satisfying night’s sleep, princess.”

“And a good night to you as well, Serpentus,” she replies, leaning down to nuzzle his mane. “I hope you have pleasant dreams, Lady Minerva.”

“Hope ya have plenty of pleasure before yer dreams, princess,” she quietly whispers, shooting the elder mare a sly smile.

“A sentiment I share,” she coyly agrees with a departing nod.

“Maker have mercy on that poor, lucky bastard,” he sighs under his breath.

Amethyst shoots him a questioning look. She leans down to whisper, “Think it’s happenin tanight?”

“Reckon so. Love is in the air tonight, after all.” The colt pauses, looks in the direction of the elder alicorn, and shakes in a full-bodied shudder. “Literally, that is. Oh well, more power to ‘er. I’d better go get started. Where are you off to?”

“I reckon I’ll stick around for a bit, maybe get me a snack, spend some time entertainin the foals ‘fore goin up and havin a nice, hot soak in yer jacuzzi, then call it a night.”

“Cool. Stop in and say goodnight before ya go, okay?”

“You bet, colt.”

Saturday, September 5th, 909 AB
Approximately seven hours later, northeast neighborhood

Cure has to give the zebras credit; the security at the ambassador’s home is far more expansive than he had anticipated. Not only does the ambassador’s estate have a tall, stone wall, but the thrum of magic emitted from the pillars located every five meters is impossible to ignore. He can admit that he almost peed a little when they first activated shortly after the ambassador’s arrival, but since nopony… nozebra has come to investigate his presence, he figures he’s probably in the clear.

Unfortunately, their presence means he isn’t exactly sure how he will depart. His initial plan had been to simply fly out again, but if there is some invisible perimeter that looks for metaphysical signatures then he could end up right and properly fucked. The same could be said for Plan B: fly straight up into the sky. Though there’s no visible sign of a dome over the estate, it would be really stupid not to have one in a world where so many creatures can fly.

He dares not risk attempting to probe the defense, both due to external magic use being detectable and since he wouldn’t know how to defeat it anyhow.

Teleporting across the barrier is definitely straight out; not only would that almost certainly be detected, but, again, it would leave a faint trace of his magic from wherever he departed. It would bleed into the background in a little while, but not fast enough he can be sure it would go undetected.

Ultimately, there is one route that Cure is certain he can take. It’s not the most pleasant, by any means, but it is by far the safest.

After watching the guards change shifts shortly before midnight, his robin spent the next few hours keeping track of their patrol routes. A second one perched outside the barrier on the opposite side of the estate provides an alternative, further out viewpoint.

It’s surprising just how many zebras are assigned to guard duty given the seemingly mundanity of the night. Cure has counted thirty-four of them in total. The one oddball squad of four is maring the estate’s front gate while the other ten squads are comprised of three zebras each. Half of those are walking in overlapping patterns on the outside of the mansion, but that still leaves fifteen visible guards in or near the building itself.

One squad is patrolling between the house and around the servants quarters, another is stationed at the front door facing the courtyard. A third is covering the sunroom on the north side of the mansion, occasionally making their way to the building’s east side where a loggia and a porch are located.

He catches sight of two more patrolling inside the house through windows, and those groups in particular have a trickle of concern creeping down his spine. A member of each group appears to be a mage or shaman of some type. A stallion in one and and a mare in the other each have more jewelry on them than the rest and are wearing odd saddle-like back drapes with pouches, trinkets, and a holstered short staff attached. He’s pretty confident they won’t be able to sense his rings; if the princess couldn’t come up with a way to detect or disconnect his portals then he can’t fathom how a, relatively speaking, common mage could be capable of detecting them.

Still, with the threat level reaching new heights, his contingency plans grow steadily more violent. Using his more distant bird as a waypoint, he has a wiry, well armed minotaur body crafted and prepared to rush the entrance. An arrival point can similarly be scanned for magical signatures, but there’s plenty of nearby hidden nooks and crannies he can take advantage of to obscure its arrival location.

A hop and a flap take the bird to the bedroom’s chimney, but a quick peek inside dashes his hopes of finding entry that way. He doesn’t catch a break with any of the others, either. With it being summer, all of the chimney flues are closed off for now. The kitchen one is as well, but a visual inspection shows its construction isn’t the same; the damper in it is a spin-closed slide, not the lever-based latches that would cause a bunch of noise if forced.

Cure briefly considers trying to float down the pipe hummingbird-style so as not to leave marks in the soot, but given his lack of experience flying that way in such a small area, he gives in and begins changing into a spider instead. He briefly considers affixing a tendril and easing himself down, but without a good way to retrieve it without it falling down the flue he quickly abandons the idea.

The climb down isn’t as bad as he has feared. He has been expecting caked-on grease adding to the challenge, but the flue is reasonably clean, likely thanks to an almost exclusively herbivorous diet. He still takes special care to leave as little evidence of his passing as possible, lightening his already meager weight to almost nothing so his tarsi do not disturb the soot inside the pipe.

The kitchens are located in the south-facing estate’s northwest corner on the first floor, slightly to the north and underneath the master bedroom. In fact, as best Cure can tell, he is directly underneath the master bath; the pipes for the sink likely go up the wall to the tub overhead. As far as entry points, it’s not bad at all, as the stairs going up to the second level are not far away. A small dining area is one room to the south, and the stairs are just outside it to the east.

Thankfully, the latch on ovens open easily enough even from the inside.

Cure can only imagine how the scene would look if there was somepony watching. If he didn’t have a talent that makes biology his bitch, the sight of an enormous spider opening a stove, making sure the scene is clear, then climbing out and relatching the door would likely have him leaving a pee trail while noping the fuck away. He makes sure to rotate the flue closed before he departs the room.

Avoiding the patrols is almost trivially easy. With the kitchen being on one end of the building, all he has to do is wait for the group to meander away. Though he could easily scurry along the ceiling, he has ample time to run out to the stairs and up the wall while altering his colors to match the wallpaper.

The master bedroom is right at the top of the stairs, just on his right to the west. Cure is relieved the rings are only a single millimeter thick; it takes less than two seconds to flatten down enough and shove himself under the door when the patrol walks away towards the foals’ bedrooms and the balcony at the far east end of the hallway.

He’d known from watching through the window that the ambassador had been intimate with his wives, but the foreknowledge didn’t completely prepare him for the scent that assaults the olfactory nerves lining his carapace. If it weren’t for his inability to get away with using magic, he would cast Cleaning a dozen times on the bed’s occupants before going near them.

The way Zecora was portrayed in the show was sometimes very cringeworthy; the decor of her tree hut, the way she dressed and spoke, that she chose to live out in the woods to be closer to nature. It struck Ed as perhaps a little odd that the only zebra he recalls seeing was essentially “a pony, but, like, totally African, dude.” The sad thing is that, in large part, the reality of Equus seems to match, this time showcasing itself in the bedroom’s decor; a divergence from the rest of the very pony-like appearance throughout the rest of the house.

While most of the light is blocked by the half-drawn woven wood blinds across the balcony doors and windows, there is enough to make out the general shapes and colors to the colt’s heavily modified eyes.

The flooring is some kind of thin, low pile, cream colored carpeting that is almost entirely covered in an array of rugs with stereotypically “tribal” designs. Circles, triangles, and unfamiliar hieroglyph-like characters are done in arcs of red, yellow, and various shades of brown. The one under the large canopy bed must have cost a fortune, in particular, just due to the size and the hoof-crafted nature of it.

Furniture is crafted exclusively in a very dark, nearly black wood and, on the bed frame in particular, is a style that Cure doesn’t know the name for. Unlike the dressers and end tables, the visible portions of the frame are made of thick, but seemingly uncarved branches that give it a very “straight from nature” kind of feel. Sheets of sheer white cotton curtains are drawn to the bedposts, and eight thin tree branch-like beams are affixed to the ceiling above it. It’s an odd decoration choice that makes no sense to the colt whatsoever.

Opting not to waste any further time admiring the relatively large bedroom, tarantula Cure scurries over to the bed and climbs up the nearest post, surveying the ambassador and his two wives. The colt had intentionally avoided learning any of their names, partially because he simply doesn’t care, and also so that he’ll have plausible deniability in the likely event he ends up being questioned.

If he hadn’t seen a family portrait in the stairwell leading to the bedroom, he wouldn’t even know for sure that they are indeed the ambassador’s wives, nor would he know that they have five foals together; four fillies and a single colt, all within a few years of reaching adulthood. It’s only thanks to Celestia using a male pronoun and his observation of the embassy for the past few days that he even knows he has the right zebra. In the back of his mind he hopes he hasn’t fallen for a body double, but the message he intends to send should get through either way.

Much like his parents, the stallion is lying in the middle of the pile. From left to right, one mare is lying ponyloaf with her chin resting on her stallion’s right flank. The ambassador is facing the opposite direction and lying on his left side, spooning the third snoozing occupant who is facing his same direction. All three are… contaminated in a way that is going to leave the colt shuddering for a while, but at least he can tell himself that the soon-to-be dirtied puppet isn’t his real body and will certainly endure greater unpleasantness at some point or another.

He also notes a pair of emptied vials on the nearest nightstand, the contents of which he suspects are some kind of contraceptive given the time of year. As much as he would like to get a sample, he has no idea what it is or if it has any kind of magical effects that could jeopardize the mission.

The mare facing his direction is the easiest, and thus first, target to be neutralized. He carefully stalks across the bed, lightened to the point he does not even depress the sheets. Once in position, a tentacle stalk grows itself from the tarantula’s back and splits in two to position itself right in front of her snout. Slowly, taking care to not accidentally touch her or any hairs, the tendrils extend deep into the sleeping mare’s nasal cavity and begin releasing their airborne payload, ensuring that she will sleep soundly for the next few hours no matter what happens in the meantime.

The tendrils withdraw from the first wife’s snout, and the spider leaps from the bed back to the bedpost. He stalks past the other wife's hind and forehooves to approach her snout, careful not to move too quickly or raise himself from the shadows the three bodies are casting from the balcony and windows. The tendrils snake forth, drugging the second mare just as he had the first.

With both mares safely sedated the payload is switched to something custom made for this occasion. Carefully gliding past the second mare’s head, the stallion is given a taste of something a little different. Having successfully drugged all three victims, Cure is now free to act out his plan.

Mass begins flooding through the portal ring as the tarantula grows in size and begins to change. Though he is aware that this snake does exist, he has not yet had an opportunity to scan one. Bands of black, yellow, and bright, blood red start to creep up the snake’s body as it slithers into place, easing itself between her neck and the soft sheets, passing between her mane and his neck, and coiling its front half on the side of her face on her jaw, cheek, and muzzle.

Conscious of the low lighting of the room, the end of the snake’s tail alights in a soft white bioluminescent light, illuminating the top of the bed but not reaching the bedroom’s door. “Wakey, wakey, missster ambasssador,” he softly coos, leaning closer to flick his forked tongue against the stallion’s right ear.

Light blue eyes meet ominously glowing, slitted red. Panic grows as the stallion attempts to move, to shout, to call out for help, yet finds that he cannot. The paralyzing agent coursing through his veins locks down all voluntary movement except for his eyes.

Locked-in syndrome is a horrifying condition; one that Cure cannot imagine inflicting on anypony for anything more than a couple minutes. He isn’t exactly proud of what he is doing, but he hopes that the zebras take the message in the spirit with which it is conveyed rather than choosing to double down. Time will tell, he supposes, but for now he needs to focus on the task at hoof. Scale. Whatever.

Cure pulls back his head, rotating it to the right to rest it sideways on the stallion’s snout. Speaking softly with a hiss, he begins, “Attempt to fight it if you wisssh. Your effortsss will be futile. A powerful paralytic coursssesss through your veinsss. Worry not; it will not lassst long, and you…” he pauses to turn his head, motioning towards the wives, “all of you will be unharmed. Thisss time,” he growls, meaningfully displaying his glistening fangs. “I have merely come here to deliver a warning. Word ssspreads quickly, asss you are aware. Newsss reachesss us of sssome visitorsss who may be coming thisss way in the coming monthsss, ssseeking redressss for their dwindling income.

“You,” the tail reaches over from the front of his wife’s neck to poke the ambassador between his eyes, forcing the stallion to blink from the momentary brightness, “will passss along a messssage. Blink if you are lissstening. I do not wish to repeat myssself.” The stallion rapidly blinks several times. “Onccce isss enough,” he lightly hiss-chuckles, “but I do appreciate your enthusiasssm, ambassssador,” he jests, gently stroking the stallion’s cheek and muzzle before pulling back his glowing tail. “You tell them thisss: They are welcome to commit ssssuicccide by attacking his highnessss,” he leans in menacingly close, deepening his voice with a slight rumble, “but they. Do. Not. go after innocccentsss. Family. Friendsss. Acquaintancccesss. Neighborsss. They. Are. Off. Limitsss.”

Cure pulls back, flicking at the mare’s ear with his tongue. Though immobile, the stallion’s eyes betray his panic at seeing the serpent’s scales shifting across the face of the mare he loves. “We mussst remain cccivilisszed in all thingsss, after all, yesss? No zebra, no pony, wishesss to sssee,” he opens wide, tracing along the mare’s scalp with his fangs, careful not to leave any residue behind, “what happensss when byssstandersss become acceptable targetsss, yesss?” He moves back to the stallion’s muzzle and stares directly into his eyes. “If that happensss, the resultsss will be… horrific. Blink onccce if you underssstand.”

The stallion promptly does.

“Good. Good. I am ssso, ssso glad we are on the sssame page. The griffonsss onccce incurred the wrath of an alicorn. It hasss been many yearsss, however, and memoriesss are sssuch fickle. Little. Thingsss. I do not sssuggest the zebrasss remind the world what ssstrife one of them can unleasssh. No creature wishesss to sssee the Alicorn of Life chossse to bring Death inssstead. Blink one lassst time if you underssstand what I am sssaying.”

Another blink.

“Excccellent. I do hope I need never return here, ambassssador. Neither of usss wantsss that, I promissse. Now, I believe I ssshall find a warm ssspot to ssspend the night before I depart. Sssomewhere no zebra will find me.” Cure makes a show of peeking in the wife’s ear before theatrically sighing and shaking his head. He looks down her side and blatantly flicks his tongue out to taste the air, grumbling, “Cccertainly not going near that.” He twists away, hovering in front of her muzzle, and gives a single nod. “Perfect. You did not ssseed this end.

“Open wide, sssweatheart. I’m a real mouthful,” he chuckles, prying her jaws apart with his still glowing tail. As the tail begins to slide past her lips he looks up in mock realization. “Oh, I nearly forgot.” He slinks forward, slithering past the stallion’s jaw and rests heavily against his throat. “Goodnight, ambassssador. Sssweet dreamsss,” he calls, biting down on the stallion’s neck.

A quick acting hypnotic is pumped directly into the stallion’s blood through hundreds of microscopic filaments that pass through his dermis, leaving no puncture wounds behind. It only takes a moment for the stallion’s breathing to deepen and sleep to reclaim him.

Cure’s tail light cuts off and he pushes the mare’s mouth back shut before slithering off the bed towards the bathroom, looking behind himself to ensure he did not leave a snakey path behind in the rug. Assured there is no sign of his presence, he continues on his way.

As disgusting as it is, the best way he can figure to escape the estate is via the sewers, so he completely disables anything scent related, seals off the snake’s mouth, nose, and other openings, covers its eyes in a transparent membrane, and dives into the toilet’s channel. Mass flows back through the portal, reforming the snake’s body into a three and a half centimeter ball. A single tendril extends out, wrapping itself around the flush chain. Adhered firmly to the bottom of the channel, the chain is yanked and the tendril retracts, washing the lump away through the mansion’s pipes and into the city’s sewer to freedom. Absently, Cure notes the path he took in case he finds the need to come back again someday.

With about an hour left before sunrise, Cure finally decides to call an end to his healing session. Certain the line would never completely die out, he calls over a passing patrol and gives them the remainder of the tear-off number pad before sending them out the castle gates. He instructs them to pass a number to anypony they can see headed to the castle for healing, then pass an order to the guards to stop anypony else from trying to enter unless they have a legitimate emergency.

All told he didn’t quite make it through the first pad, but as ponies were only taking one slip per family, that still added up to several hundred creatures healed overnight. He would feel bad for dragging the seventy-some-odd ponies’ healing out throughout the week, but the vast majority of them needed more done to bring them up to full health and ensure they’ll remain as such until the RHA has time to verify the safety of his aging treatment.

Sending them to the gates with the pad also gave him an idea for a product that he hadn’t previously considered; something that many human businesses went through hundreds or thousands of every day. Post-it Notes are no more than a small scrap of paper with a patch of adhesive that does not leave a residue behind, yet they would sell for a bit or two per pad with ease.

He certainly never thought he would end up as the Alicorn of Office Supplies, but businesses are, and always will be, good entities to market to. They buy and burn through more volume in supplies than households could, and typically have far deeper pockets for him to plunder. Even better, there is nopony presently in the market for him to drive out of business, so he can finally earn some bits without a nagging feeling of guilt from the unfairness rolling around the back of his mind.

As he continues to see family after family, the overwhelming majority of whom are bats, he keeps an eye with his second, more distant bird drone just outside to the west of the ambassador’s estate. It’s not difficult at all to determine exactly when the poor stallion finally awakes; not only was his screaming audible even through his balcony doors, both the guards from overnight and the ones arriving for the morning began tearing through the grounds looking for any sign of an intruder.

Cure is certain they will not find anything amiss. Not a single scale, scrap of chitin, or anything else was left behind. The portal was also never directly exposed to air, though it was a near thing when he was scooting underneath the bedroom door. He also never used any external magic, instead relying only on internal expressions and pure biological and biomechanical forces.

With his ears shaped like a parabola, enlarged, and aimed in the home’s direction, he manages to pick up bits and pieces of the conversation. From the argumentative shouts between the ambassador and the stallion mage that was patrolling the upstairs, it sounds like somezebra may have suggested it was all a bad dream.

Cure had meant the whole climbing inside the mare’s mouth act as more of a joke than anything; the esophagus of a pony, or a zebra, is technically wide enough to achieve the feat, but even at the snake’s short, meter length, there is no way the mare would be perfectly fine in the morning after trying it. Not only would she have the dam of all sore throats and a severely messed up voice, she would likely be able to feel the couple kilograms of weight sitting oddly inside her gut, even if it didn’t give her some seriously major stomach distress.

The ambassador apparently did not quite take it as such, and is torn between his desire to be near his, in his mind, stricken wife and the concern that a coral snake could shoot out of her at any given moment. He loudly insists that she be taken to the hospital for a medical diagnostic, but absolutely flips his lid when somepony mentions that the prince has been healing all comers at the castle overnight.

It is at that point that the ambassador switches to Zebrican and, Cure guesses, begins unleashing a flurry of curses aimed squarely at the new prince. Though he committed a translation book to memory, that is absolutely no help in this situation. The colt suspects he could likely read a sentence and use context clues to figure out what is written, but he can barely catch anything that the ambassador is saying.

Either way, Cure feels a tiny smidge bad for the guards that were on duty last night. Not only is their boss pretty pissed off at them, but from the looks of things, they won’t be getting the opportunity to punch out anytime soon.

He watches as runners are dispatched to several locations. It’s difficult to tell where all of them are going, but some head to nearby homes to rouse other zebras that live nearby, either to ensure they are okay or to see if anyzebra else had a visitor as well. Others head south, he assumes either towards the embassy or to summon additional guards on their day off. Finally, a squad of three begin heading southwest, likely towards the palace itself.

Apparently the zebras are going to run to mommy to tattle, he snidely considers. Wonder if I’ll get to listen in.

Curiously, none are heading directly west towards the hospital. The reasoning becomes apparent a moment later when one of the neighbors rushes out of her home with a medical bag on her withers. Cure recalls seeing the zebra at the main hospital when he was helping with the births, but never worked with her directly. She’s met at the ambassador’s estate entrance and escorted from there to the bedroom by the female mage.

He catches pieces of the conversation before they make it in the house. The guard all but swears the doctor to secrecy while refusing to disclose why she was summoned and why there’s apparently a full muster of the ambassador’s protective detail. Cure has to give the doctor a bit of credit; even if she’s perfectly safe, she has to know some shit hit the fan that she’s not being told about, but she’s still marching through a kicked hornet’s nest to tend to her patient.

Cure times his customers out perfectly. He finishes with the last family just in time for Celestia to stroll out the castle entrance. Dozens of ponies snacking and socializing on the platform of his former clinic must sense the princess’s approach. Conversation all but comes to a halt. Food and drinks are set aside and ponies rise and climb off their couches.

They don’t all drop into bows like Cure had started to expect, but heads are lowered in respect during her approach. With a skip in his step, Cure trots up to the princess and leans over to give her leg a nuzzle, leaning up into her snout when she returns the gesture. “‘Mornin, boss. If you’re in need of healing I guess I can see one more.”

“Good morning, Serpentus. I believe I will endure, somehow.” She stands up tall and graces the staring crowd with a radiant smile. “Good morning, my little ponies.”

Cure’s face pinches in consternation, bummed that he probably won’t get away with teleporting in a couple bottles. He briefly wonders if it’s odd that he considers that off limits but is fine with breaking into the ambassador’s home last night. The thought is immediately dismissed as ridiculous; letting the public see him, a foal, holding alcohol is way worse than burglary, home invasion, assault, and the menacing of a foreign official.

He watches and follows along as she begins mingling with the crowd. It’s always a pleasure to see the mare when she gets to interact with the public. The way her warmth draws everypony in is something to behold. She greets many of the ponies by name, cooing and loving on the foals as they excitedly climb all over her and play in her mane. Teasingly, she inquires about the care and service Cure offered overnight, soliciting gushing praise for the younger alicorn.

When the time does finally come, she stands, allowing the foals to stay on her back, and begins sedately walking to the south. Cure notices many of the bats closing the nictitating membranes he’d given them as they trail behind. It’s a modification that ties directly to his real identity, but being such a huge quality of life improvement, he was unwilling to make everypony wait a full year before hoofing them out. Besides, if there’s one group he’s confident won’t try to expose him, it’s the tightly knit bat community.

Regally striding out to the center of the castle grounds, Celestia turns to face the west, staring off into the distance behind the palace. Her whole form begins glowing as she channels raw arcanum, performing the single-pony ritual required to move the moon. Having seen and felt it enough times, Cure can tell how much more effort must be expended outside of the balcony's ritual circle. That she can still do both rituals with no discernable exhaustion begs the question of how deep that well truly is.

With the moon pushed over the horizon, the entire herd turns as one to face the east. With a mere fraction of the effort, Celestia reaches through the connection to her sun, and easily lifts it into the sky, blanketing the world in its golden light and bringing a new dawn’s warmth to the lands.

She turns to face the crowd, levitating the foals off her back and giving them a final nuzzle. “Please feel free to enjoy yourselves as long as you wish, but I am afraid we must depart. Young Serpentus has an engagement for which he must prepare.” She faces him and beckons with a wing. “Come along, Serpentus. It is time for you to get ready.”

Cure briefly considers intercepting the three zebras that are quickly approaching the castle walls so they won’t interrupt their breakfast, but actually attacking somezebra may gain him the princess’s ire, especially since this would happen in Equestrian territory. The two are just making their way into the dining room when the messengers arrive at the gate.

Now seated on his cushion, Cure reaches out and takes an exaggerated slurping drink from his coffee. He waits until the food arrives and turns to face the princess. “So,” he begins in a light, airy tone while shooting her a knowing look, “how did everything go last night? Have a pleasant evening, Tia?”

“I did,” she coyly returns, refusing to meet the colt’s teasing smirk.

“Good fer you, princess. So, not ta stick my snout where it don’t belong,” she leans in closer to speak quietly in case anypony walks in the room, “but how’s this gonna work? I’m guessin ya ain’t told ‘em yet, right?”

Cure sets a Sound Bubble crystal on the table for show and activates it to give them some privacy.

“I… have not. I intend to this coming weekend. I cannot deny the prospect causes me no small amount of anxiety. As you can imagine, there is no good way to reveal my identity.”

“I reckon not. Can’t say fer sure what I’d say if I were in their shoes. A surprise princess ain’t exactly somethin you’d expect. Suppose if there’s a real connection then what ya are shouldn’t matter.”

“That is my hope as well.”

“How do you plan on doing it?” Cure inquires. “I mean, it’s not like you can just say, ‘Everypony that is not an alicorn, raise your hoof,’ then just placidly stare at them.” Both snort in amusement at the blunt suggestion.

“No, I believe the best approach is to invite them to the palace to meet with Sunny, and have that conversation in a private setting.”

“Sounds a mite bit intimidatin, princess.”

“Yeah, boss, yer gonna scare the fudge outta them summoning them here. Does Sunny have an apartment or a house you can meet at instead?”

“I… do maintain a small home in the northwest quarter that I could use. I suppose that may be a more comfortable setting for them, but at that point I might as well simply go to them instead.”

“As long as you can soundproof the house, that’s what I would suggest,” Cure agrees. “If you really want to do it here then at least come up with a good excuse. Prince Serpentus could offer to give Sunny’s colt and fillyfriend a checkup like he has for other officials. Maybe I can slip ‘em a shot of some anti-anxiety meds so they don’t freak out on you.”

The princess sends him an unamused scowl. “I am not drugging anypony, Cure.”

“Didn’t you meet at a bar?”

Her brow furrows even more deeply and she growls, “That is not the same!”

“Riiiiiight,” he mockingly agrees overtop his mother’s chuckling. He rolls his eyes so hard his whole front half gets in on the action. “Totally different class of drugs. Fine, I’ll hit them with a shot of whiskey instead.”

The mare’s nostrils flare like a bull as she blows out a steamy huff. “Cure!”

Hooves held up in placation, he ducks his head into a conciliatory bow. “Okay! Okay!” he defends, holding his pose until the fearsome stare abates. “I’ll tell them I’ve created a super special magical alicorn drink and ask if they want to try some. One hundred percent voluntary.”

“I am beginning to think I should permanently bar you from ever having contact with them.”

“Now that right there would be a crime, depriving them of the magnificence that is my presence.” It’s the princess’s turn to roll her eyes, it seems, as she does so with gusto while sipping her tea. “By the way,” he begins, reaching to deactivate and scoop up his crystal, “three zebra messengers just got escorted into the castle lobby. One of your guards is on her way here to fetch you, so it must be pretty urgent. You may wanna pound your breakfast down ‘cause from the way they were runnin through the streets I’m thinkin something must be up.”

“Really?” she asks, surprise painted on her features. “I wonder why a messenger would be dispatched on a Saturday morning. I hope there is nothing wrong.”

“Eh, who knows? Maybe somepony’s sick and they need my help. Guess we’ll see in a moment.”

Celestia absently nods and rushes to finish her breakfast, completely unaware of the mess that could be headed their way. Cure feels slightly guilty not giving her a heads-up, but in this instance it would be better, he suspects, if she could legitimately claim to be unaware of his activities so she comes across as genuine. He doesn’t doubt her acting abilities any more than he does any other pony, but that’s not saying much given the entire species seems to kind of suck at lying. Besides, there’s no telling what the letter could say, and Cure isn’t keen on incriminating himself if there’s no reason to do so.

It’s only a moment later that a pegasus pony mare in armor enters the room and rushes to the princess’s side, ducking into a bow before explaining in a hushed voice, “Apologies for interrupting, your majesty, but guards from Ambassador Kundai’s estate are in the castle lobby. They say they are carrying a missive from the ambassador, but insist that it must be delivered to your majesty directly.”

“That… sounds a little odd, princess,” Cure notes. “I don’t see what the point would be, but do you have a way to ensure there’s not some kinda… I dunno, curse? Spell? Something on the letter?”

The mare scoffs and dismisses the idea with a shake of her head. “To send me such a thing would be akin to declaring war, Serpentus. It is most likely that the guards were simply instructed to deliver it as such to ensure it was not tampered with along the way. There is no cause for concern at all, even if it is somewhat unusual for us to correspond in such a way.”

“Riiiight,” he agrees disbelievingly. “All the same, I’m coming too.” Knowing how protective the colt is, she simply shrugs her wings and nods in acceptance as she rises to follow the pegasus back to the lobby. Cure stands to follow, shouting over his withers to his mom as he departs, “Go ahead and finish, ma. Maybe talk to some of the castle staff and see if there’s some shops you’d like to hit after the whole dance thing today. We’ll make this a you day if you’d like.”

“Sounds nice, colt. Go be a prince or whatever,” she insists, shooing him away with her hoof. “I’ll see ya in a bit.”

Cure follows the pair as they make their way back to the lobby, both his and Celestia’s Royal Guards taking up their positions on his tail. Several times he wishes they could just hop out a window and glide down or that the princess would simply teleport them instead. It doesn’t make any sense; while he can understand why they wouldn’t want to teleport right in front of the messengers, even he could move the pair, their escort, and their six guards to just outside the doorway they’ll be passing through when they do arrive. Rather than traverse the distance in a matter of seconds, the nine ponies waste several long minutes sedately trotting through the halls and down a few flights of stairs.

“You absolutely must be the most impatient pony I have ever encountered,” Celestia mildly observes, turning her long neck to the side to glance back at the colt. “You have sighed and huffed in annoyance at least six times in just the last minute. If you are truly so eager to get to dance class then you need not follow along. I can scarcely imagine the ambassador is requesting your presence, after all.”

“No, no,” he deflects. “If I’m gonna wear the fancy hat then I’d best get used to interacting with foreign officials. Besides, somepony has to make sure the big mean zebras don’t try something sneaky. We wouldn’t want something to happen without me there to keep ya safe, now would we?”

A strangled laugh escapes the pegasus and, not even skipping a step, she slowly pans her head to the right to take in the two royals’ looks; the princess showing mild amusement and the knee-height prince all but glowing with absolute confidence, then annoyance when he meets her eyes. “Allergies bugging you, private?”

“Sir!” she acknowledges, snapping her gaze forwards. “Must be some pollen in the air, sir.”

“Yeah?” he asks good naturedly. Tone light, he offers, “You know I can fix that up for ya, right? You just say the word, I’ll make those allergies disappear.”

A great white wing reaches out to poke at his snout. “Do not bully my guards, Serpentus.”

“Whatever,” he grumbles under his breath as they finally reach the lobby’s interior doors. The three zebras show no reaction to his presence when they turn to face the princess. The stallion at the center of the group makes a show of slowly reaching into a carrier bag strapped to his chest between his forelegs, withdrawing and offering up an envelope sealed with dark gray wax.

Celestia takes it in her magic and cracks it open, scanning across the document in a second. She refolds it, tucks it back in the envelope, and slides them underneath her right wing. “Please tell Ambassador Zuberi that we will see him at one o’clock in conference room one here at the castle.”

The stallion nods in acceptance and turns, leading the other two back out the main door.

Celestia watches them go, then turns to castle staff standing by for orders. “Please ensure that Duke Dresser and Chancellor Start be available this afternoon, and make preparations to receive the Zebrican delegation.”

A series of “Yes, your majesty!” ring out from the crowd of ponies who promptly disperse to get started.

The mare stands still for a moment, seemingly lost in thought, then glances down to the colt who cocks a brow in question. “Sup?”

She takes a deep breath and blows it out slowly, then glances back to the door they just came through. “Come along,” she calls, “you should get prepared, lest you be late.”

“Ohhh… kay? Well, I sure am glad I tagged along,” he gripes, scampering to keep up with her longer strides. “Ten minutes of walking to stand there for ten seconds while you read a letter. Totally worth it. You know what? Next time I think I will stay behind and finish my breakfast. Honestly, I don’t know why they couldn’t just hoof that note over -”

“I believe we will teleport this time,” she abruptly interrupts. She turns to the sergeant in charge of Cure’s escort for the day and says, “Sergeant, please await Prince Serpentus at his carriage. He will be along shortly.”

A momentary flash of confusion crosses the stallion’s face. He recovers quickly, snapping off a crisp salute before turning to leave. The princess’s horn ignites and, in only a second, the two alicorns and her guards materialize just outside her office doors. She throws them open and marches through while the colt suddenly considers that he would have been fine walking this time.

Cure no more than steps through when the doors slam shut behind him. Already sitting behind her desk, Celestia takes the envelope from underneath her wing. She removes the letter and slides it across the desk in offering to the colt, staring flatly at him the entire time. The younger alicorn hops onto the couch opposite the desk and grabs the letter, reading over its contents.

“So… There was an ‘incident’ at his house and he wants to meet with all of us. What’s got you all in a tizzy?”

She stares unblinkingly at him for a few seconds. “I cannot think of many reasons that would explain why your presence has been requested. Also, read aloud the line in which he does.”

Cure doesn’t need to look down to repeat it. “‘It is requested that Duke Dandy Dresser, Chancellor Fair Start, and His Highness, Prince Serpentus be in attendance as well.’ And? What am I missing here?” he asks, hooves turned upright in question.

“Do you not find it odd that you were included last? The intent to give insult is as blatant as they come, Cure.”

“Again, so what? My ego ain’t quite that fragile, boss. If he wants to be a prick about it then why would I care?”

She loudly sighs, closes her eyes, and leans against the desk. “Regardless, please tell me: Do you have any idea why the Zebrican ambassador is requesting a meeting with us, and with you specifically, in regards to some unnamed ‘incident’ at his manor that happened overnight?”

Cure shrugs again and tosses the letter back into her desk. “Presumably, something happened and he either thinks I can help them figure something out or somepony got hurt enough to ask for healing but not badly enough to be urgently needed.”

Celestia stares again, searching for some kind of tell or sign giving away a sign that Cure is being deceptive. She soon determines that it’s a futile attempt given his self control. “Yes or no: Do you know what happened at the ambassador’s estate last night?”

“The first I heard of this ‘incident,’ whatever that means, was when I read the note,” he insists, waving a hoof at the letter on her desk. Celestia’s look of doubt stabs into the colt’s heart, and he hates that he is all but lying to the mare, but he would rather endure that then put her in a position where she must lie to cover up his actions. He briefly regrets doing what he did, but knows that if the ambassador takes his warning to heart then it should be worth it in the long run. “Look, Tia, I get it. I know you think I did something. You have nothing to worry about, though, okay? Tell me honestly: If I had done something and they could prove it, would they be asking for a private meeting or shouting it from the rooftops?”

She blows out another long sigh and nods in acceptance. “The latter, I suspect. Unless they wish to use the transgression,” she pauses, shooting him a mild glare, “assuming there was one, as a bargaining chip of some kind.” She pauses and shakes her head, sucking in a deep breath. “Very well. I truly hope that you are telling me the truth. I will be very, very disappointed if I find that you have lied to me, Cure. Now go on,” she waves a hoof to the door, “enjoy your morning with the fillies. Oh, and Cure?”

“Hm?”

“From now on, you, either as yourself or in any alternative identity, are to have absolutely no contact with any foreign government official or officials unless I am present or I have given you my direct, express permission. Is that understood?”

Cure’s expression doesn’t change at all as he gives her a firm nod. “You bet. At least, as long as they don’t come to me. I can’t exactly run away from somezebra if one shows at the hospital, ya know?”

“Of course, but in that case I expect to hear about it your earliest opportunity. Now,” she waves towards the door, “go.”

Chapter 108: Let's Be Friends

Something has gone wrong. We don't seem to have an archived copy of that chapter.

Chapter 109: The Art of the Apology

Saturday, September 5th, 909 AB (minutes later)

The door to the conference room closes behind the departing delegation, leaving the four ponies behind.

“That went better than I expected,” Cure admits. “Bummer I couldn’t score some goodwill, but… eh. Can’t win ‘em all, can ya?”

“It was a generous offer, your highness,” Dandy assures the colt. “But I must admit that his reasoning is sound, even if somewhat… rigid in its application.”

“It was the only option available to him,” Celestia argues. “My policy would likely mirror theirs in the same situation. Allowing a member of a foreign government, particularly royalty, to use biomanipulation magic on an ambassador should result in their recall, even if the user is a foal. Given the nature of special talents and the degree of control you have shown even publicly, the threat you could pose is far greater than even a seasoned mage. And let us not forget, you, yourself, would be the first to admit that, by the very definition of the word, as soon as somepony is placed at the mercy of your care they are, indeed, completely and thoroughly ‘compromised,’ correct?”

“I… guess,” Cure begrudgingly agrees. “Like you said, though,” he motions with his head in Dandy’s direction, “to do so even if it was a medical emergency seems a bit over the top.”

Celestia shrugs her great wings and points out, “They can decline treatment and endure, or possibly not, or they can accept your offer of assistance and be assured their continued existence. I believe many, given the situation, would elect to say yes even if they must return home afterwards as a result.”

“Agreed,” Dandy sternly nods. “I suppose that, as with most things, there must be a line in the sand somewhere that cannot be crossed,” the stallion sighs. “For somepony responsible for representing their nation’s interest, that line just happens to be right at the start. We will have to wait and hope that he made the correct choice. I cannot fathom the guilt he will bear should he find he maintained his employ at the cost of a family member’s wellbeing.”

“I believe the offer was still appreciated, highness,” Fair Start proposes. “He may not be allowed to accept while keeping his position, but that doesn’t mean he wasn’t grateful for the offer. He certainly seemed less hostile at the end than when he first arrived.”

Dandy scoffs and shakes his head. “He should be grateful, if not for the offer then for the grace with which his highness endured his attitude and accusations. To make such ridiculously false allegations,” he snorts like a bull, “he is fortunate you do not so easily take offense. Seeing such behavior, one would think former Ambassador Quickhorn’s example happened long ago rather than just two months past.”

“Eh… Calling me an abomination and insisting I should be ‘purged’ from existence is quite a bit worse than halfheartedly suggesting I committed the unspeakable crime of insisting they not attack innocents.”

“I cannot argue that,” he easily grants. The stallion inhales a great breath and slowly blows it out, turning to face the princess. “Your majesty?” he softly calls, “is there anything further with which I may be of assistance today?”

“I do not believe there is. I thank you both for taking the time to attend, as well as your insight and support throughout the meeting.”

“Yeah, definitely,” Cure agrees. “It sucks you had to waste your weekend working, but I really appreciate you standin up for me.”

The unicorn chuckles and shakes his head, reassuring the young foal, “You’ve restored my health and vigor, highness. I believe an hour is the very least I can offer in return. Your majesty,” he nods to the elder mare and begins to rise from his seat, “your highness. If you will excuse me, I believe I shall take my leave.” A small smile graces the stallion’s lips. “With little luck, a fair silver maiden will be eagerly awaiting my return.”

Chancellor Start smiles as the older stallion departs, ducking her head slightly in respect. With a playful grin she says, “While I don’t have a silver maiden waiting for me, I will be going as well. Unless, that is, you have further need of me?”

“No, chancellor. I, as always, thank you for your service. Have a wonderful weekend.”

“See ya, Chancellor Start!” Cure calls, waiving his hoof farewell.

The door no more than swings shut before Cure turns around to face the princess and holds both hooves out for her to wait. “Before you start to yell!” he urgently rushes out, “I think we should go to your office.”

“That may be wise,” she agrees, scowling angrily at the colt. As they stand and begin leaving she adds, “The soundproofing is better there. I enchanted that room myself.”

“Yeah. That’s totally my reasoning, too,” he noncommittally agrees. His colors shift back to his Serpentus guise before they leave the room. “I don’t suppose you added heat-dampening wards too?” he hopefully inquires.

She pushes through the door and begins heading for the stairs, turning her neck to cast a withering look at the smart-mouthed brat. In a clipped tone she answers, “Of course I did. I recharged them myself this very morning as soon as you departed. Worry not, Serpentus, the castle will suffer no harm from this discussion. None that cannot easily be fixed, that is.”

“Oh. Thank the maker,” he flatly replies. “I was like, totally super worried about the castle.”

Once the pair enter the more private section of the castle, Cure turns and looks at the six trailing guards and holds a single hoof in front of his lips. Eyes pleading for their silence, he waits until he receives an acknowledging nod. One by one between steps, his shoes disconnect and float up underneath a wing to disappear. His crown lifts off and does the same with his regalia following next. He turns again to the confused soldiers and gives them a playful exaggerated wink, then begins pulling mass through his rings, growing as they walk.

As has become his standard approach when entering a risky situation, Cure did not attend the meeting in his real body, but instead swapped it with a puppet in the carriage on his way back to the palace. Knowing that items such as the Staff of Sacanas or the Alicorn Amulet exist, his paranoid mind had little difficulty imagining some kind of cursed super-death knife or who-knows-what that could “coincidentally” end up in a vengeful zebra’s hooves. As unlikely as it was, the risk was not zero, thus making it unacceptable to dismiss when a simple alternative is at hoof.

Hidden beneath the clinic where nopony could ever hope to find, he spent most of the ride back and the entire meeting preparing for this very moment. Knowing he has been keyed into the palace defenses, infiltrating Celestia’s office was easier than the ambassador’s estate. Though every door and window is magically sealed, he chose not to try, but instead simply teleported directly into the room to make the necessary preparations.

Celestia, fully focused on the task before her, never spares a glance back to the trailing colt, completely unaware that he sent a puppet to the meeting just in case.

He can only imagine the thoughts racing through the guards’ minds as they follow their eternal princess and the suddenly, rapidly growing alicorn stallion to her private office. Perhaps under normal circumstances their assumptions would be more innocent, but at the beginning of the estrus season he doubts that is the case.

The errant consideration of their perspective has him briefly internally debate whether he would give Celestia the afternoon, and possibly evening, of a lifetime simply to abate her anger. The thought is dismissed as preposterous; Celestia is nothing if not patient, and is about as likely to jump his bones before adulthood as she is to blast him through the wall. Less likely, even, he amends, noting the occasional spark sizzling harmlessly in her mane.

So caught up in her angry ruminations, the princess does not notice as Serpentus grows in size. Concerned his height may be caught by her horn’s aura, he slows as he nears her own and carefully stays behind her. His prayers to the maker that she does not look back are answered when they finally reach the correct hall.

Celestia approaches the door to her office, flashing her horn for the barest instant. The door remains on its hinges, barely, but blasts open with unnecessary force. She marches through the door, but halts when she catches movement from the corner of her eye. Sitting at the conference table to her left is a second “Cure,” grown fully and in his natural colors, sitting on his rump and faced away.

“What are -” is as far as she gets. Head ducked down in contrition, the stallion turns and holds out his forelegs to offer her a gift. A massive bouquet of roses, no less than a hundred in count. The vast majority are white, but her eyes are drawn to the message the foal has written out; deep blue blooms dot the arrangement, spelling “I’m Sorry” in unnaturally perfect print.

With her brain struggling to process what she is seeing, a now fully grown Serpentus spots the perfect opportunity to strike. The golden brown puppet pushes the door shut and dashes in the room. He darts to the princess’s left and rears up, landing lightly on her withers to wrap her in a hug.

The unexpected attack startles her and sends a surge of power to her horn, but the alarm disappears a split second later when his neck brushes against her own and he plants a kiss on her right cheek. “I am so, so sorry, Tia,” his deep, rich voice begins, resonating through her skull. More snuffling nuzzles trail up her jaw and he noses gently at her ear. “I know that you’re upset -”

“You think?!”

“- and you have every right to be -”

“You are damn right I do!” she growls.

“- but I would never ask you to lie for me.”

“You could have done nothing!” she insists, swinging her neck to bash against his face. Aware she would likely hurt herself more than him, the act is not done with any force.

“I could have,” he agrees, then slides down off her side to the left. Carefully avoiding whacking her with his horn, he dips his neck underneath her own and twists to nip gently at her chin.

The Cure in front of her sets the flowers aside and approaches, continuing where Serpentus left off. “But I cannot allow them to think they can do whatever they want and get away with it. They had to be shown that they are not safe from reprisal, not even in their guarded, warded home.”

“They do not even think it was you, now!” Despite her words she inclines her head and twists to give Serpentus better access. “All you did was confuse them with your decoy!” she argues, thrusting a forehoof at the blue stallion’s chest. “They suspect another zebra was at fault; perhaps even a whole tribe! You muddied your own message with that foalish act!”

Cure tilts his head to the side and gains a playful smirk. “So you’re saying I should have just told them it was me all along?”

The anger returns a hundredfold and golden flecks shine through her mane. He smiles broadly to distract her while Serpentus renews his attack, wrapping around her side with his forelegs and his wings. The golden stallion pulls her to her left, sending both tumbling to the ground. With a startled yelp, Celestia lands lightly atop the stallion’s chest on her side, his great wings cocooning her on her chest and back.

“What do you think you are doing?!” she demands, looking between the pair of puppets.

Cure leans down to eye level and his horn begins to softly glow. “C’mon now, Tia,” he teasingly chides, tone one of playful mirth. “Read the room. You. Me -”

“Me,” Serpentus echoes from underneath.

Cure rolls his eyes and continues, “- him. A private room. Flowers.” His horn flashes and a large sheet cake flashes into existence. He lowers it down to lay beside Serpentus’ broad neck. As with the flowers, blue icing offers an apology in print. “A big cake.”

Serpentus deepens his voice another octave, sending a powerful vibration through her chest, “I think it’s pretty obvious what I’m doing,” he leans up, slowly rumbling out one syllable at a time, “Cel. Ess. Tee. Uh.”

Her scowl intensifies and hoof pushes his chin back down. “You are nine and I am in a re-”

A massive grin splits his muzzle and he interrupts, “I’m begging for your forgiveness, duh!”

“Yeah,” the Cure agrees, “Didn’t you read the cake?” he asks, pointing with a hoof. It wobbles slowly side to side as if asking for her attention. “It’s your faaaavorite~!” he playfully croons. Tearing off a piece, he floats it in front of her in offering, “Go on and have a bite.”

The mare fully rotates on her barrel, using Serpentus like an extra thick couch. She notes with some relief that, as he had when he first showcased this form, there is a distinct absence of a particular body part on either of the puppets. Still staring daggers down at Serpentus, she begrudgingly accepts the morsel when it prods gently at her lips. A reluctant hum of satisfaction tears itself from her throat when she bites down; the heavenly taste of wedding cake with buttercream icing working wonders to banish away a large portion of her ire.

“You ate a piece of sorry cake,” Cure sing-songs, sitting on his rump. With a firm nod he assures himself, “That means I am completely, one hundred percent forgiven for all transgressions up to this point.”

“It does not!” she protests, even while accepting another bite.

“Hey,” he begins apologetically, his hooves held up in placation, “I don’t make the rules, boss. I dunno what to tell ya,” he insists, holding the cake steady as she begins chowing down in earnest, “but I’m pretty sure that if you accept a cake that says ‘I’m Sorry’ on it then that means you have accepted the apology too.”

“That makes no sense at all!” she decries around a mouthful of said confection.

“They’re intrinsically linked!” Serpentus argues. Accusingly, he points out, “You can’t have the cake without the sorry when ‘Sorry’ is part of the cake!”

“I am pretty sure you can,” she disagrees.

“You even ate the word!” Cure argues back. He tilts his head to the bouquet sitting on the table. “That doesn’t even factor that you smelled ‘I’m Sorry’ flowers and didn’t rebuff ‘I’m Sorry’ snuggles,” he says while pointing down.

Celestia leans back slightly and glances at Serpentus’ chest, unsurprised yet reluctantly amused to find “Really super sorry!” written in his coat.

“I like snuggles!” the golden stallion eagerly declares. She can feel through the shifting of his body how his tail wags his entire back half.

“Quiet, you,” Cure commands, silencing the pouting puppet. His horn ignites and a goliath mug of tea flashes into existence, its side once again showing the repeated message written in fine cursive. “Here’s an ‘I’m Sorry’ mug of tea to wash it down with. If I get you anything else then, at this point, I suspect you’ll be contractually obligated to apologize to me.”

“You are a pain,” she quietly grumbles, taking the mug and quaffing a mighty gulp.

“I am a prince, by your command. Thus I am a royal pain, I’ll have you know.”

“For the first time since breakfast I find myself in complete agreement with something you have said.”

He levitates the half devoured cake aside and Serpentus reaches up to pull her head down to rest on his neck. Cure lays down beside them to press his cheek against her own, nosing at her neck. “I am sorry, Celestia. Really. I would have told you what I was doing from the get-go, but you are a mare of principles and the leader of the nation. I was very careful, but I know things can go wrong no matter what. If this blew back on anypony then I knew it had to be me that took the fall. Besides, I turned nine like two months ago. What could they really have demanded from a foal at my age, even if I’m a prince?”

“I… am honestly unsure. In most instances such a young foal can only be sentenced to counseling. Under Equestrian law, that is. I do not know how the Zebrican government would choose to react. It would depend at which point you were caught and what you had already done.”

“That makes sense,” he agrees. “If they’d caught me right away then I’m guessing some kind of formal apology?”

She raises her neck up, still lying on Serpentus’ chest and barrel. “Likely, yes, as well as a significant cost to maintain silence. You must keep in mind that I came to power in a time when ponies were relatively weak and alicorns were completely unknown. Ponies are no longer such, largely due to my existence. There are already concerns over what a second alicorn means, especially because before too long you will be old enough to give me foals.

“If everycreature discovers what you are capable of and, more importantly, how willing you are to use those abilities, I can only guess at the results. You need only put yourselves in their position to imagine their response.

“Imagine learning of a zebra foal with similar capabilities to your own. Imagine knowing that, some day, that foal may have as much power as an alicorn, one capable of moving the sun and moon. Further, as a stallion, he may be able to produce more of his kind as well. Then you come to find that within scant months of his ascension he broke into our ambassador’s estate and threatened him, successfully bypassing security measures to do so. What would be your next step?”

Cure doesn’t have to think about his answer much at all. “Find a way to neutralize him or remove him as a threat. I’m not sure I would advocate assassinating a foal either way, but if I knew he may eventually be as powerful as you… it would be a little dumb not to have a plan, at least.”

“Precisely. And that is without their awareness of the knowledge you possess. Even with your known capabilities you are a threat. If they had an inkling of what you could do then they would ultimately have two choices: Do everything they can to remove you from the board, preferably as soon as possible, or accept that there is nothing they can do now, nor will there likely ever be. It is not as if they can simply wait for time to claim you; as far as they know the only way you will die is if you are killed.

“You must not ever do anything like this again. The world cannot ignore how dangerous you truly are or could be, especially if you begin openly flaunting your abilities.”

The blue stallion raises his neck to meet her eyes. Apologetically he insists, “I will have no choice but to do so if they make themselves a threat to my family. I accepted a crown, Celestia, not a set of shackles.”

“They are one in the same, as you are well aware.”

Almost automatically he replies, “Only if you let them be.”

“That crown comes with responsibility, even if not so binding.”

“I accept that, but not at the cost of their safety. That was not part of any deal, and you know that I would have never agreed if it was.”

“Let us dispense with the ridiculous notion that it is the crown that put you in this position. You and I both know it would have mattered little had you turned it down. You are a threat due to your capabilities, royalty or not. I will grant that it does come with some downsides, but it also grants you freedoms and protections far beyond what you would otherwise enjoy.”

He sighs and reluctantly nods. “I guess that’s fair.”

“I am relieved you at least recognize that. As much as it may be difficult, you need to accept the fact that even if you go around threatening the whole world, your family’s safety -”

“Can never be completely guaranteed,” he gently cuts her off. “I know. Not by you. Not by me. Not by anypony. I do accept that. But according to your own intelligence these assholes may be sending assassins my direction as we speak. If they go after the ponies I care about to get to me then there will be consequences. I will show the world a fraction of how dangerous I can be, and it will banish any future thought of coming after me or mine, I promise.”

“You cannot go on a killing spree, even should the worst occur.”

“Maybe not a killing spree, exactly, but I’m not lacking for options regardless. The punishment must be severe or some fool might think it’s worth it to try again. I will not kill anyone that is innocent, but I will do everything in my power to find and destroy anyone that is even the slightest bit responsible. They may not be official, but there are rules in any conflict. Targeting innocents is never acceptable, and I’ll make sure they learn that lesson well.”

“That will only lead to further escalation! Violence begets violence, Cure! I have seen it countless times!”

“And yet you’ve also seen what happens when it escalates beyond one group’s ability to counter, haven’t you? Violence can beget peace as well, Tia. It’s a tool like any other, and against some creatures it’s the only way they’ll learn.”

“That is not the way of Harmony!”

“Are you sure?” he mildly asks, head tilted to the side. “This isn’t some newfound attitude. This is how I’ve been ever since I inherited these memories. Every single action I have taken has been aimed towards ensuring my family’s safety and prosperity. I told you that I would not withhold my displeasure when I wrapped Shield in a snake less than thirty hours prior to my ascension, and you admitted you would expect no less from me not even an hour after it happened. Harmony, presuming it is responsible, does not appear to strongly object to my line of thinking.”

The mare sags, dropping all her weight on Serpentus. Her wings hang down by his sides, resting their edges on the floor.

“Think of it this way,” he continues. “You asked much of me up on that stage before giving me my crown. I pledged to serve Equestria faithfully before any other nation. I pledged to keep her citizens safe. To protect and nurture them. To step in if you cannot. To do what you must not. I have done exactly what I always promised I will do, and I never intend to stop, but your orders do not supersede my responsibility for my family’s safety.”

He sighs and leans in to give her cheek another nuzzle. “In the future, I will at least give you the opportunity to object before I act, assuming I get a chance to do so.”

“How gracious of you,” she blithely retorts.

“I promise that, at the very least, I will propose a hypothetical situation, especially if it goes against one of your standing orders. One where you can plausibly claim you had no foreknowledge in case I have to act. If you can convince me that your solution is the superior one then I will accept it, even if I don’t like it.”

“And if you refuse to listen to reason?”

“Well,” he shrugs, “at least you’ll get another cake out of me.”

A white wing shoots forward to slap him across his face. “That is not funny, Cure!”

“It’s a little funny,” he weakly defends. “And it’s a pretty big concession. Do you have any idea how much that cake cost me?”

“Oh please,” she rolls her eyes. “I happen to be very much aware of the cost of cake.”

“I bet you are,” Serpentus quietly comments from the side of his muzzle, earning himself a stomp.

“I would venture that it costs no more than fifty bits, an amount you earn many times over in a single minute of your work.”

“Hey!” Cure scowls down, folding his legs across his chest. “Fifty bits is still fifty bits!” He jabs a hoof in her direction. “You really should be thanking me, you know.”

“Really?” she scoffs. “Pray tell why I should thank you for today.”

“You should be thanking me because of how I ultimately decided to apologize.”

“I am not thanking you for ‘I’m Sorry’ cake and flowers.”

“Or snuggles, apparently,” Serpentus comments.

“Or snuggles,” she confirms, shifting to make herself more comfortable.

Cure argues, “Well you probably would be thanking me if you knew what other options I considered.”

“I do not think I want to know.”

He shrugs and nods towards the balcony windows. “I thought about maybe hunting down Comet and whatshername and hauling them in here for ‘upgrades’ and an impromptu threesome.”

A jolt of power blasts from her horn only to wash harmlessly off his chest.

“With you!” he quickly adds. “Not me. I ain’t inta dudes, boss.”

“That’s not what I heard,” Serpentus lightly jests.

Ignoring the talking couch, Celestia vehemently insists, “That is not better!”

Cure blasts out a snort and shakes his head. “Seems a lot better in my opinion. Bet Comet’d agree.”

The mare only has to consider that for a moment before nodding in agreement. “I suspect he would agree to that.”

“My other plan - and keep in mind, I didn’t have a lot of time to really flesh this out,” he says, waving around the room, “was to have this puppet,” he taps against his chest, “modeled after a slightly more chaotic friend of yours.”

“YOU. WOULD. NOT. DARE!” she growls, fire sparking through her mane.

“See?” he says in smug victory. “You are welcome for my restraint.”

“Why? Why in the world would you do that to apologize?”

“Well, ya see, the idea is you walk in here and I have him laying across your desk, right?”

“I would have blasted him on the spot.”

“EXACTLY!” he shouts in agreement. “You would’a opened fire, blasted him right out the window, and probably incinerated him and everything in the room in one shot.”

“I am struggling to identify the part that constitutes an apology.”

“But just think of how cathartic it would have been! You would have released all that built up anger you carried around all morning. That release is one of the reasons why we apologize, after all.”

The mare’s face twists in consideration and she gives a tiny nod. “I… suppose that may be true. Barely.”

“See? It was a brilliant idea,” he insists.

“I very strongly disagree.”

“Noted. It would have had an add-on benefit too.”

“What benefit would it have had?! It would have resulted in an incinerated room!”

“Yeah, I know! That’s the benefit! All of the stupid work you have stored up in here would be taken care of.” He claps his hooves twice, exclaiming, “Bam! Boom! You just earned yourself an entire week off while they redecorate! Oh! New furniture too! Everypony likes new things, right?”

Unbidden, her hoof crashes into her own face.

“I know,” he proudly preens, wiggling joyfully in place. “I’m totally a genius. You don’t have to say it. I can read it in your eyes.”

“You are an idiot,” she corrects.

“There’s that Canterlot accent shining through again. You may need to see a speech therapist or something, boss. It’s real simple. Follow along: ‘JEE. NYUS.’ Say it with me, now… JEE-”

“I will do no such thing.”

He sighs theatrically. “Fine. Be that way.”

A momentary silence fills the room as the colt’s bearing shifts. Cure lays down on his barrel to be eye level with the princess and gives her a pitiable, hopeful look. “Are we good, Tia?”

“I… am not happy with what you did. I am even more disappointed that you lied to me afterwards.”

“I didn’t lie! Prior to the letter, nopony told me there was an incident at his estate. Thus, it was indeed the first I had heard of it.”

“But it was not the first you knew of it!”

“And I did not answer that question, which I know damn well tipped you off. Think of how well we worked together from there on out!” he insists, waving back and forth in the air between them. “I was able to pretend to be the innocent, ignorant foal and you could remain the impartial princess without having to lie about what you knew.”

“I still do not know what exactly you did.”

“Oh. Duh. I guess I never really spelled it out, huh?”

“You did not, and I am sure the sequence of events as described by the ambassador was incomplete.”

“Yeah, somewhat,” he agrees. “So, I got started during dinner -”

“Oh? Before or after you tore Chef Garnish a new posterior?”

“Posterior?” he rolls his eyes. “Come on, Celestia… you can say asshole. You’re a big girl.”

She sniffs in disdain, turning away and inclining her snout into the air. “It is not proper for a princess to speak thusly.”

“I’m pretty sure you’re the one that makes the rules. Therefore, they are yours to break as you so choose.”

“And I choose not to.” He stares in flagrant disbelief. “Mostly.”

“Uh huh. So anyhow, after I read him the riot act and scoured the place of filth -”

“Which you should not have done. Inspectors should have been allowed to examine the evidence.”

“Our word is evidence enough,” he argues with a dismissive flick of his hoof. Celestia accepts the point with a nod. “Besides, if the place manages to stay open, I’m sure the numerous articles about my overheard shouts will prompt them to get involved anyhow. Now stop distracting me and finish your cake,” he insists, setting it to her and his other body’s side.

“I do not have a fork,” she teasingly bemoans.

“Who needs a fucking fork when you have a horn?!” he asks, earning a pout and a quivering lip. His eyes narrow and he asks, “You just want me to have to feed it to you, don’t you?” The quivering intensifies. “Fine!” he whines, fully accepting his defeat. He pulls another morsel off and floats it over in offering to his liege, happy to bathe in the warmth he so terribly missed before.

“As I was saying. Again,” he growls. “I had a robin puppet follow him home from the embassy. Gotta give him props workin that late on a Friday night. I kinda suspected he was plowin the secretary or something, but that wasn’t the case. Dude sat and ate at his desk working all evening, then went home and serviced his wives like a good husband should.”

Celestia silently huffs and rolls her eyes, accepting another bite.

“So that’s right about when I started healing the bats.”

“Which you were using as an alibi.”

He nods in agreement, “That and it’s unfair that they have almost no access to me at all. That’s half the reason I go to Junior Guard training in Baltimare, too; so I can see them afterwards.”

“Thus earning yourself a nearly fanatical following.”

“Everypony wins,” he agrees with a nod. “So while I’m healing family after family, I follow the dude home and park in the tree while he services his mares. They eventually finish, clean up, and go to sleep, all the while I’m thanking the maker that they used washcloths instead of flushable wipes.”

Her snout crinkles in disgust, though that doesn’t slow the steady rate at which she continues taking bite after bite.

“Well, the perimeter fence’s enchantment activated, so I was trapped, right?”

“I do not know the configuration or wardset they use, but that is a safe assumption.”

“So I figure the only way out is through. I had another bird overhead and further away to keep an eye on the patrols, so I flew up to the roof and slipped in through the vent on the kitchen stove after changing into a bigass spider.”

“That… must be odd, to be able to do that.”

“I could show you some day, if you want.”

“I do not wish to be a spider or any other vermin, for that matter.”

“You might find the experience enlightening, boss. Besides, you would still be you, but I could force-feed you via a tube like I do for my underweight patients, then use the excess generated biomass and a portal ring that you enchant to connect you to something like I do myself. I’ll warn ya right now; it takes some getting used to.”

“Sure does,” Serpentus agrees. “But it’s totally worth it.”

“Especially if I’m going to end up with Harmony-knows-how-many wives to take care of,” Cure adds.

“Inappropriate,” the mare calmly chides.

Both puppets shrug in unison.

“Still, you might find it fascinating,” Cure points out. He briefly considers continuing to discuss his ring proposal, but instead decides to divert away from the suggestion for the time being. “I suppose you could probably figure out a spell to polymorph yourself if you were so inclined.”

“I am aware of such spells, but I would need to refresh my memory before an attempt.”

“Eh, it’s kinda neat. Anywho, making it up to their bedroom was pretty easy. I crammed a tube up each of the mare’s snouts and made sure they wouldn’t be waking up, gave him a paralytic, then turned into Mister Snek, woke him up and, long story short, told the dude to pass the message along that they can come for me all they want, but if they hurt anypony else in the process then there will be a reckoning. Then I knocked him out with a hypnotic.”

“The colonel said there was no evidence. If you did not bite him…”

“I pretended to but used tiny skin-penetrating tubes instead. He probably chalked the whole ‘no pain from the bite’ thing up to the paralytic dulling his senses.”

“I see. And you escaped how?”

“Flushed myself down the toilet.”

The mare snorts and makes a valiant attempt at holding in her laughter, ultimately failing.

“Yeah, yeah. Laugh it up. It was the safest way out, as best I could figure. Somezebra may have thought it was weird to hear a toilet flushing at three in the morning, but apparently they didn’t pay it any mind. The alarm didn’t get raised until the dude woke up screaming his head off right before sunrise.”

“I feel a great swell of pity for anypony you are truly angry with, Cure. While I cannot say that I approve of the act, your ability is, frankly, bordering on terrifying.”

“Oh, you don’t need to tell me that, boss. The shit I can do to ponies is pretty awful. For example, have you ever had an itch that just doesn’t go away?”

“I cannot say that I have. Perhaps when I was a foal, but certainly not since my ascension. It has been a long, long time and I do not recall the sensation.”

“Do you mind?” he asks, pointing a hoof at her foreleg. “It’ll only be for a moment.”

She looks at her right leg in consideration, vividly recalling the overwhelming flood of pleasure he inflicted on her ear. “I… suppose,” she hesitantly agrees. It begins with a small tingle, blooming quickly into a feeling that she had long forgotten. She resists the urge to gnaw at her pastern for a moment, instead scratching with her left hoof. The intensity surges all at once, stealing her breath away and nearly sending her into a fit. It disappears an instant later, but still leaves her panting, panic washing through her veins.

“That’s some pretty nasty shit, huh, boss?”

“I… I do not know what I would do if you used that on a larger part of me.”

“Or in a more sensitive area,” he suggests. “I’m betting it wouldn’t take more than a minute or two before you self-destructed. Even simple feelings can be maddening when cranked to their limit. Just imagine if that was on your croup instead of your foreleg, for example.”

The image flits through her mind eliciting a body-shaking shudder.

“It would be hilarious watching you twisting and turning, throwing yourself into a somersault to dig at it. Can you imagine the papers running the picture of you seemingly chasing your own tail on the front page? Maker above!” he chuckles. Pantomiming holding a newspaper, he energetically reads aloud, “Princessly Pests?! Irritating Insect Infestation Inflicts Intense Itch!”

“I am not amused.”

“Eh, everypony else would be. Anyhow, I waited until the ring was well away from the mansion and teleported it away for a very thorough Sanitizing. As far as the whole chase thing?” he shrugs, “I waited until ‘Prince Serpentus’ was being photographed at dance practice, then baited the guards at his estate with the snake and ran away. Once the pegasi started paying attention I faked the whole pill thing and bolted so the two groups didn’t end up in a fight with each other.”

“Do not take this for approval, but I at least do appreciate that you considered what a disaster that could have been.”

“Of course I did,” he retorts, mildly offended. “I went early so the streets were still kind of empty and led them away from any crowds. The whole chase only lasted a minute, tops. I didn’t want to get any bystanders trampled or whatever and I figured if anypony did get hurt I could have a puppet rush over to lend a hoof, subtly healing them if need be. I had another eye in the sky keeping watch the whole time.”

She nods in acceptance. “I presume you had similar contingencies had your incursion been detected.”

“Mmmmmaybe.”

“Cure,” she calls in a commanding tone.

“Does it really matter? I mean, again… nothing happened. I got away with it.”

“It matters to me,” she forcefully declares. “I want to know what you had planned if you were detected.”

“Knock out anypony I had to and leave just like I did, probably. I was going to use a disguise and ensure that they stayed out long enough that any residual magic signature they could have hunted down would have dissipated. If push came to shove I could easily take out their entire guard roster. You know that from our fight, and I went easy on you.”

The mare scoffs. Voice dripping with disbelief, she gives him a patronizing look. “I’m sure you did.”

He meets her condescension with a scowl, insisting, “I totally did! I mean, do you really think I would use frickin Fire Bolt on you if I was going hard?”

“I had wondered…” she admits.

Cure rolls his eyes. “It’s my first time fighting anypony, boss. The very thought of using an attack that could hurt you…” his whole body shakes. “Can’t say I’m a fan. Besides, I know you were just feeling me out, too.”

Celestia’s eyes slowly pan down to Serpentus underneath her who waggles his brow meaningfully. “Perhaps not the best phrasing, considering…”

“Fair. Still, I had another body on standby in case I had to get serious. Don’t worry; I wasn’t going to kill anypony, but the morning shift would have been right and properly freaked out when they arrived to find an entire house of unconscious guards.”

“I can only imagine,” she agrees. “Now…”

“Now?”

“Now we must discuss what is to be done with you.”

He snorts dismissively. “Nothing, obviously. I didn’t commit a crime. Not here, at least.”

“You…” she begins, furrowing her brow.

“It wasn’t espionage,” he begins. “That’s the crime of gathering info. I didn’t do that at all. Technically, I don’t think what I said would meet the criteria for making threats. I did commit assault, but that was done on foreign soil while not acting as a crown prince. I didn’t steal anything, so theft is out.

“I didn’t inflict any harm at all on anyone. Physical harm, at least. I have little doubt I traumatized the ambassador, but if he can’t deal with some stress then he should find an easier job. Either way, scaring the shit out of somepony isn’t a crime on its own and, again, it happened on foreign soil.

“You hadn’t previously ordered me not to go after the zebras, only not to take action in regards to the Bear Drug Co. and the Pure Dew jerks. I have not once disobeyed an order nor, since the incident at the zoo, have I broken any Equestrian laws.” He pauses and adds, “Unless, as I already told you, you want to count the whole license plate thing in Filly.”

“Torture,” she begins, causing him to quirk a brow, “is the infliction of pain or suffering on a creature in order to, amongst other reasons, coerce or intimidate. While the wording of the law does not specify either physical or mental anguish, the courts have held that there is no legal distinction between the two.”

“Really?” he asks patronizingly. “Cherry picking which parts of the code you’re quoting, Tia? For shame. Article twelve of the revised code, section four states that in order for it to be torture the aggrieved party must, by definition, be ‘in the custody or control of’ the accused. By all rights, I have far more ‘control’ over you right now,” he motions to the stallion underneath her with his wings still protectively wrapped around her barrel, “than I did of the ambassador at any point. If you want to go down that road, I absolutely did ‘torture’ Chef Garnish last night, too. I at least made him cry, after all.”

She pouts adorably at being called out. Turning away, she softly says, “I will admit, I had briefly wondered if I would need to intervene. The threat of forcibly feeding him cockroaches was slightly excessive.”

Cure crosses his forelegs over his chest and growls, “He fed cockroach poop to two of the most important mares in my life!”

“Aww, Cure…” she coos.

Flatly, he adds, “Oh, and you, too, I suppose. Poor Misty, though...”

“... I am deeply flattered.”

“Speaking of which, you may want to check in on your nephew. According to her he’s been inconsolable since last night.”

The mare groans and hangs her head.

“Oh he’s not that bad. Certainly not to the degree I’d expected. Maybe you should go stop in and pay him a visit. You know, play up the whole ‘We’re two alicorns and an earth pony who could eat anything and be fine, but I was worried about my dearest nephew’ bit.”

She groans even louder. “I will check in on him later.”

“That’s the spirit.”

“Do not think you have distracted me from yourself, however.”

“Perish the thought,” he sighs out. “So, what do you want from me? I am already doing everything you could ask. I heal scores every week, I develop cures and treatments, I ‘prince’ as the need arises, I obey your commands… so far. I do everything you could ever ask from a foal and more. The only thing I will not do is sit idly by when somepony threatens the ponies I care about.”

The mare’s harsh look softens and she gives an accepting nod. “I have neither the right nor the ability to punish you, Cure. All I can do is convey a slice of wisdom. Take it from a mare who has both saved and nearly damned the world: The day will inevitably come when your plans will fail. Something will eventually go wrong, be it due to your actions, your failure to act, or pure happenstance. If you are going to continue to do as you did last night then I can only hope you are prepared to accept the consequences that come as a result. As we already discussed, those consequences may be grave and more widespread than either of us can imagine.”

He accepts the lesson and the seriousness with which it is delivered and offers a firm nod in response. “I won’t act unless I feel I absolutely must, and if I am ever caught, I will do my best to minimize the negative impact my actions have on everyone around me. That is all that I can do.”

A silence settles in the room as each waits for the other to add anything else. After a moment of neither speaking he casts a meaningful look between her and his Serpentus clone underneath. “So… is there anything else or are you just content to lay there all day?”

“I suppose I am done with you, however he,” she taps Serpentus, “must remain exactly. Where. He. Is. I am comfortable and, after worrying all morning I could use a nap.” Piece said, she folds her forelegs across his chest and lays her head down, cracking an eye open in an attempt to discern why Cure remains after the clear dismissal.

“Fine, I guess. Next time I’m putting a freakin timer on the ‘I’m sorry’ snuggles, though.”

Author's Note

I'm betting some folks will be pretty unhappy with the fact that Cure more or less got off completely scot free. He did, but he also didn't. Celestia will not forget this, and if there is ever a "his word vs another's" situation then she may not be able to dispel that creeping doubt. After all, knowing he can pull off this act, how could you ever know someone is innocent, no matter how outrageous the claims are? You would never be able to be absolutely sure, maybe not even if he dispenses with any of the stupid word games and flat out says, "I had nothing to do with it and I am in no way responsible in any part for it happening."

The problem, as pointed out in previous notes, is that Celestia does not really have a way to punish Cure. She can't do anything at all publicly or the zebras will know or suspect something happened.

She can't do much privately for two reasons - first off, he can just take his ball and go home and the whole nation would lose out massive and second, how would she even punish him? Take away his tax break? That won't matter for long and she literally just gave that to him. Take away his rings? He can make more and what would she do if he told her to fuck off? She already said (in a previous chapter) that she doesn't give orders she know will be ignored. Also, if she said "no more rings" then how would she ever know if he's sticking to it?

It's a shitty situation for a ruler, and that doesn't even get into the fact that, mentally, Celestia believes that Cure, by dint of being a real alicorn, he has the right to lead. As he points out, he ascended right after he said he would deal with anyone threatening his family, and Celestia had a pretty good idea of how he was before she offered him a crown, so this whole thing shouldn't really have been a surprise at all. It was damn near an inevitability.

The only thing she can do is convince him not to make the same mistake again.

I suppose the nuclear option (which would be a massive overreaction at this point) would be to try to banish him to Tartarus, turn him into stone, or mindrape him by some other means. Any of those three could fail because she can't be sure she isn't interacting with a puppet, and making the attempt is a full-on declaration of war.

As always, thanks for reading, rating, and especially commenting.

Enjoy!

Chapter 110: The Games Begin

Tuesday, September 8th, 909 AB (3 days later)
Shortly after breakfast

Even with a foreleg wrapped under Cure holding him tightly to her chest, Amethyst can’t help but let slip a quiet whimper when the carriage shudders as it cuts through the sky. A part of her wishes she had accepted his suggestion to simply take a nap for the flight, but the colt won’t always be around to knock her out when she has to fly, and there will never be a better time to get used to the feeling than right now.

“You have nothing to fear, Mrs. Blossom,” Celestia reassures her from the opposite bench. “While the carriage may experience some turbulence, that is perfectly normal when flying near a mountain such as the Canterhorn. The pegasi pulling us have more than enough experience dealing with such things.”

“Yeah, ma,” Cure assures her, leaning up to rub his snout on her chin. “Besides, even if this thing exploded into a million pieces I’ve gotchya, no problem.”

She leans slightly to her left to give the brat a heated stare.

“Why, at the height we’re at right now I’d probably have at least five seconds to catch you before ya hit the ground. That’s plenty of time ta keep ya from goin kersplat, ya know?”

“Cure,” Celestia gently chides. “I do not believe that is helping.”

The colt gives her a puzzled look before realization hits. “Oh! Right, yeah. Don’t worry about that anyhow, ma,” he assures her. “Chances are you wouldn’t go splat anyhow. If anything you’d probably just bounce a few times. You’d barely feel it at all!”

“Cure!” the elder alicorn more sternly scolds, staring in disbelief.

“Right, right!” he quickly nods, reaching out to pat his mom’s shoulder with a hoof. “None of that matters, ma! There’s no way this thing would fall apart like that anyhow. It’s got all kinda safety systems baked right into it, after all. Not just to enhance durability, but also Slow Fall and, I’m guessing, some kind of emergency Teleport, right boss?”

“It does, but I do not believe your mother is being comforted by the array of mechanisms that would protect her should something occur.” She gives the mare a sympathetic look. “There are no less than twenty pegasi escorting our carriage, Mrs. Blossom. They will ensure our flight, short as it is, is as smooth as possible and, more importantly, perfectly safe. If you would like,” she offers, leaning to her right and raising her left wing in invitation, “there is more than enough room on this seat for you as well.”

“Much obliged, princess,” she dips her chin in thanks, “but I’ll be fine so long as the nuisance shuts his trap.” An aggrieved snort blasts out the colt’s snout and he lays his head down between his forelegs. “Reckon we’ll be landin soon enough anyhow.”

Nodding in agreement, Celestia glances out the window. “Indeed we will. In fact, I believe we are beginning to descend. While the enchantments will mitigate the vast majority of the motion, you may feel a slight lightening as we make our approach. I would suggest forcing yourself to yawn, if you can. Earth ponies and unicorns sometimes experience ear pain with rapidly changing altitude due to…” she trails off when taking in the smug look on Cure and indifference the mare displays. “I presume you have ‘upgraded’ your parents so they do not suffer such inconveniences?”

The impudent foal scoffs and rolls his eyes. “Of course I did.” His wings wiggle free, wrapping Amethyst in an upside-down hug. “I wouldn’t let my poor ‘ol ma suffer like some common pleb, after all.” Twisting his head to the side, he nuzzles a cheek into her chin and adds, “After all, my folks only deserve the best, ain’t that right, momma?”

“Yer dern right, colt,” she agrees, giving him a firm squeeze. “Ya got us right spoiled, and ya ain’t gonna hear a word ‘a complaint from me ‘bout it.”

The princess hums in understanding. She turns to face straight ahead and looks out towards the ground. “If you might similarly be unbothered, the view from the port windows will allow you to see some of the preparations.”

The foreleg wrapped across his chest tightens further and a small whine escapes his mom. “Really?” he asks in a deadpan, twisting to the right so he can look her in her eye. She pouts woefully at him, but releases the foal and flops to her left, pressing her back and head against the rear set cushion, eyes pinched shut. “Closing your eyes doesn’t help, mom. You’re better off enjoying the view; at least that’s a distraction. All you’re doing is making it easier to focus on the feeling of the movement.”

“Shattap.”

Cure sighs and shakes his head. He scoots over to the window to look out. The carriage has turned to the east, circling the town of Forest Heights from the south. The first thing he notices are the floating cloud rings positioned over the city and disappearing off to the north of the mountain. Teams of pegasi are flitting between them, pausing to look through some kind of apparatus and looking over a fold-out map to ensure their proper placement.

His eyes drift down to take in the city proper. Being the less well-off of the two capital suburbs, most of the homes are much like his own. The more affluent ones are sandwiched between neighborhoods to the south that are closer to the border of the Everfree and ones further north nearer the relatively busy rail line coming down the mountain before it turns north to Brightwood and, eventually, Detrot.

The aesthetic is reminiscent of Canterlot, but with an older, more weathered look and far less polish. While stone is the predominant material used in construction, it lacks the luster and near fanatical care for which the mountaintop city is well known.

The border of the Everfree arcs from northwest to southeast, curving more to the south before vanishing underneath the carriage. Cure knows that if he hopped to the other side and looked out he would see it continue to curve mostly south before swooping out to the east again. The flattened lands to which they are heading show the preparations to which Celestia is referring.

Numerous carts laden with wares make their way towards the cleared grounds to the east of the city; vendors hoping to make a bit selling their food, refreshments, souvenirs, or other wares. A large, cleared lot is already packed where they can set up, and new arrivals are being organized and sent to prepared spots.

Cure can easily pick out which structures are hotels, even from his distant vantage. The buildings and their surroundings are absolutely packed with out of town visitors getting ready and heading out for the morning. Squad after squad of soldiers participating in the events march, ride, or fly towards the prepared grounds; many bearing standards for the cities and provinces they represent.

Further east and curving along the south of the vendor area is a series of large tents or marquees, some of them lined together. Mess halls, Cure suspects, judging from the visible stoves and cooking tents nearby. South of the small tent city are row after row of stadium bleachers, all lined up from east to west. A long, well worn path loops inside the stadium like a running path with an arm heading off towards the base of the mountain to the west.

A pair of segregated tents is to the east of the structure, the purpose evident even from the air. Surrounded by significantly more guards than anywhere else and bearing his and Celestia’s marks, the gold and white temporary royal lodgings have an air of elegance to them that the other drab green lack. More drapery, the sheen of finer material, and a perimeter of Royal Guards separate the pair from the rest even more than their isolation.

“I have my own tent?” he asks, voice tinged in wonder. The ancient mare cocks a brow in curiosity that such a thing can elicit so much excitement from the colt. “What?” he defensively huffs. “I’ve never had my own… anything, really. I live with my parents, I work in my mom’s upstairs loft, I borrow a hospital’s office, my bedroom’s in your castle, and my clinic is temporary and on your castle grounds.” He shrugs and turns back to drink in the few details he can see from the sky. “I know it’s not really my tent, exactly, but it’s still the closest I’ve had to my own place so far.”

She gives him a shallow nod in understanding. “I had not expected to hear the excitement in your voice. While I do not anticipate them getting much use, they should be a comfortable source of respite during the event.”

“We’re sleeping here? Like… camping? Sort of?”

“You may if you desire. Protection details have been scheduled to ensure their security whether we are present or not, however, as my duties do not pause for such events, I will be returning to the castle this evening and will not return until at least tomorrow afternoon.”

“Whattaya think, ma? Wanna hang out here for the next few days or go back to the prissy, pampered lifestyle with her majesty?” he teasingly inquires.

The mare’s snout crinkles and she shakes her head no. “I ain’t sleepin outside, colt.”

“You’ll be in a tent,” he argues. “That means you’re inside.”

“No yer not! If all that’s between ya and the sky is a couple sheets then you are outside,” she insists, using the side of her left hoof to rap the bench with each of the last three words. “I’m an indoor pony. I’ll leave the campin to yer dam ‘n sire, thankyaverymuch.”

“Would you be okay if I stayed here?”

She raises her neck and gives him an evaluating look. “Just what are ya plannin on doin out here all day?”

“I’unno,” he insists with a shrug. He turns to the princess and asks, “What does everypony do when the events are over for the day?”

“As you may have gathered, the Competition is as much a social event for the participating squads as it is a military exercise. I would expect that the younger participants, in particular, spend much of their evenings ‘hitting the town,’ as it were. Over the years I have heard of many guards, particularly ones that do not have early events the next day, venturing up to Canterlot to sightsee or visit one of the numerous entertainment venues.”

“So they find somewhere to get sloshed, huh?”

“As soldiers are wont to do,” she confirms with a nod.

“Reckon ya end up with more’n a few foals after, huh?” Amethyst asks, a smirk playing across her lips.

Celestia sighs but reluctantly confirms. “A great many mares desiring a foal show up to take advantage of the event. The timing of it is not a coincidence, as I am sure you have surmised, but an intentional act from centuries ago. That is why transportation is provided for families to attend as well.”

“I kinda guessed that after the meeting last week,” Cure acknowledges. “It’s not a bad idea. Harmony knows we’re only utilizing a tiny portion of the land and we could always stand to have more ponies.” He hops back and climbs up laying across his mom’s barrel. “Speaking of land, we’ll be sitting down in just a sec, ma. Try to relax for the bump when we touch down.”

She grunts to the affirmative and, after a moment’s thought, denies the colt’s request. “I know yer wantin ta, and I don’t doubt yer safety a bit, but yer gonna hafta go back to tha castle at the end of the day. Yer dam ‘n sire wouldn’t forgive me if I took my eyes off’a ya overnight.”

“Eh, that’s fine, momma. I don’t mind as long as I can come back and watch the events.”

While he has gotten more used to the experience, it still unnerves Cure having quite so many eyes following his every move. At least this time he isn’t expected to give any kind of speech. That honor is reserved for the colonel in charge of coordinating the overall event. She, along with a number of other officers, is standing and saluting the royals on a raised platform in front of the stands. Instead, he merely has to follow Celestia with his wings splayed up as the pair regally stride up through the bleachers to the royal box.

The private box isn’t really a box at all, instead just a small private area at the top of the stands with thick, padded cushions for the three. As would be expected, Celestia’s larger cushion is in the center with Cure’s on her left and Amethyst’s on the right. The colt completely ignores protocol, climbing on his mom’s back as soon as she settles in. He lightens himself, wrapping her neck in a hug and resting his head on her crown between her ears.

A series of trumpet blasts summon forth the participants. Squad after squad march in formation onto the field in a long loop starting from the west before pivoting north, then back to the west to fill the field. Cure can tell that the different provinces are grouped together, but if there’s any other logic dictating the order he isn’t able to immediately discern it.

He has no trouble finding the Golden Hills squad standing beside another from Baltimare; the banners depicting the capital building in front of a rising sun are carried by Cpl. Ricochet and a unicorn in the other group and held proudly in their auras.

An occasional griffon, hippogriff, and a single bull are participating as well, but Cure’s attention is drawn to the Vahoofer squad, four of whom stand chest and head above everypony else. He knows he doesn’t have much room to talk given his own size compared to Celestia, but for some reason the contrast of four full-blown horses standing in the mix right beside pegasi that barely reach their barrels strikes him as amusing.

With the last squad filing in, Colonel Stratos begins her speech, first by thanking the princess for taking the time away from her neverending work, then his highness for making the journey to attend. Proper respect paid to the crown, she begins to drone on about honor and dedication, Cure tilts his head towards the princess and quietly asks, “So… the whole ‘wings up’ thing?”

She raises a questioning brow.

“What’s up with that? It seems kinda… I dunno. Pretentious, maybe? Ostentatious?”

“You are certainly not the first to make such an observation. I argued the same during courtly lessons with Star Swirl, as did another student of his. While I do agree with you, there was a greater need at the time to emphasize the difference between myself and a typical unicorn born with wings.

“Since my stature at the time was only slightly greater than an earth pony, it was more important to use my unique wing size and shape to convince ponies that I was truly something different.”

“I see,” he quietly murmurs in understanding. “And now that you tower over everypony?”

She blows a huff out her snout and turns back to the field. “A little pageantry does no harm. After all, creatures expect such things from royalty.”

“Uh huh,” he grunts in condescension. “Yer probably just doin it to air out them smoky wingpits of yours.”

“I beg your pardon?!” the mare hisses overtop Amethyst’s quiet snickers.

“It ain’t your fault, boss!” he insists in a hushed tone. “Nopony can blame you for venting those hot boxes you’re walking around with every so often. Those big ‘ol windsails catch a lot of dust and pollen and whatnot even if you barely use ‘em. I never see you giving ‘em a mid-day preen, so it only makes sense you incinerate it all and let it blow off when you’re doing the whole ‘alicorn strut.’”

She scowls and her wings flick in agitation. “My wings do not smell.”

“I never said they did. Hay, I snuggle under them every chance I get.”

“You said they are smoky!”

“Well what do you get when you cook something until it’s ash?”

“Assail my hygiene again and you will find out!”

A barked laugh escapes Amethyst’s lips, quickly smothered in the crook of her fetlock.

Out of the right side of his muzzle he quietly grouses, “Sheesh. Somepony’s sensitive.”

The speech continues on for several long, horribly boring minutes while Cure actively forces himself not to yawn, despite not being tired at all. Finally, after what must have been at least ten minutes of pointless yammering, the colonel wraps it up by ordering everypony to proceed to their first assigned event.

“So what’s first?” Cure turns to ask. “Some kinda run?”

“Not today,” the princess denies. “There will be a ten kilometer squad run tomorrow morning, but today’s focus is on individual events; particularly ones that are showy and more entertaining for the crowds to watch. For example,” she says, motioning to the east of the bleachers.

As the competing squads move to get out of the way, several of the event crew pull long carts onto the field; one laden with spears, hammers, and swords and two more with some kind of hoof-by-hoof thickness beams. The vacated speaker’s stage is levitated and moved out of the way. The crews towing the beams quickly and efficiently link them together five to a side, taking only a few minutes to assemble four large squares, each one approximately thirty meters to a side and arranged in a two-by-two grid.

Four pairs of unicorns with packs on make their way to the squares, setting down the packs before lighting their horns. Cure figures they must be some kind of engineer performing a scan or charging the apparatus. Whatever they are doing is done in just a moment; the teams soon sound off and signal to the colonel that everything is in order.

Cure watches on, unable to contain his excitement. “Fighting pits?!” he squeals, radiating joy. He completely fails to keep his wings from fluttering and booty from dancing on his mom’s withers.

Celestia gives the colt a disappointed look while his mom shakes underneath him in quiet laughter. “Dueling arenas, Serpentus,” she gently corrects. “The nearest ‘fighting pit’ you will find is likely in the griffon lands.” Under her breath she gruffly adds, “At least, it has better be.”

Four ponies begin making their way over, one to represent each tribe; a dark gray bat stallion from Tampa Neigh, a pink pegasus mare from San Franciscolt, a white unicorn mare from Canterlot, and Private Rushing Charge from the Golden Hills team representing Baltimare. The orange earth pony is nearly skipping to get suited up, eager for her opportunity to lead off the event.

They line up abreast in front of the engineers who begin putting extra equipment overtop of their armor. First, a neckpiece similar to Cure and Celestia’s regalia is placed over their heads and against their chests, then four slim plates are adhered to their hips and shoulders.

The sole unicorn stepping up to compete has a thin band placed over her horn. It must be at least a little uncomfortable to wear; the mare tries, but doesn’t manage to hide a wince when the device activates. Each piece has a jewel embedded that glows a light blue for a moment before dimming

“I’m confused,” Cure admits. “Why are only four going out? Are they only using half of the arenas?”

“This is the simulation apparatus we discussed last week,” Celestia explains. “Each fighter will be in their own ‘room’ along with a solid illusion of their opponent. The illusion’s movements and attacks are synchronized with the live combatant in the matching square, so even though they are fighting each other they are, in fact, completely safe from real harm.”

The colt’s snout scrunches in distaste. “Boooooooo! I say let me check ‘em over before each bout and after they’re done I’ll stitch ‘em up good as new. No muss, no fuss, no need for any of that clunky safety equipment they’re strappin on,” he says, waving a hoof at the field.

“I do not believe the audience would enjoy watching ponies inflicting real injuries on each other. Nor would I, for that matter. I have seen more than enough violence to last me the remainder of my days.”

The colt sighs and nods in acceptance. “Fair enough.” With a hoof held to his brow, he scans the surroundings and demands, “At least tell me where the bookies are, though. Oh, and don’t worry, ma, I don’t mind spottin ya a few bits.” He gives her neck a gentle squeeze and adds, “Just don’t forget, the juice starts tomorrow mornin.”

The mare’s head tilts curiously to the side. “Juice? What juice?”

“Interest, ma! My cut, ya know? I’m a generous colt; with the family discount I’ll only take two percent. Compounded daily, of course,” he more quietly tacks on.

“Payment for services rendered, colt,” she argues with a snort. “A solid week’a foalsittin yer rear has to be worth at least a few grand, and that ain’t even countin the rest’a this’n.”

Cure recoils away, standing upright to glare down at the mare. “A couple grand?! Ta sit in the castle stuffin yer face all week?!”

“There are no bookies,” Celestia interrupts before the pair get too loud.

“That you know of,” the smart-mouthed colt retorts. The mare turns and shoots him a warning glare. Hooves held in the air, he quickly changes his tune. “I’ll be good.”

“I am beginning to doubt you know how.”

Hoof pressed to his chest, he gives her the most hurt look he can manage. Pleadingly, he all but begs to know, “When have I ever done anything bad at all?” The glare intensifies enough to strip paint off steel. Ears flattened back in contrition, he ducks his head and assures her, “Sorry, boss! I couldn’t resist! Really, I’ll behave myself.”

“Felt my ear gettin toasted,” Amethyst quietly comments.

Cure refocuses back on the arenas when a random thought makes its way to the forefront of his mind. “Hmmm,” he loudly hums, casting a suspicious gaze out of the corner of his eye. Head inclined and hoof idly pawing at his chin, he ponders aloud, “I wonder what the odds are that an earth pony from the Baltimare region would be pitted against a unicorn from Canterlot in the first round. Seems a might bit peculiar, don’t it?”

“As far as I am aware, the pairings were done by random selection,” Celestia evenly responds.

“Uh huh. Random my glorious mane. Exactly who made said selection is what I’d like ta know.”

She shrugs her magnificent wings and idly responds, “I am sure it was one of the planning committees. I do not see why it matters. Do you have so little faith in your local guard member’s capability?”

“Oh, no, you misunderstand,” he replies with a somewhat sinister chuckle. “That poor unicorn doesn’t stand a chance.”

“We shall see,” she retorts in a bored tone.

“See, we shall,” he mockingly returns.

Rushing and the Canterlot mare finally get the engineers’ approval to proceed. Rush grabs a short spear and holds a hoof out to her opponent. They share a hoofbump before separating, with the unicorn trotting into the front left square while Rushing heads to the one in the back left corner. The instant either combatant enters their respective square an illusory copy pops into existence in the paired arena as well.

“So those are solid illusions, right?” Cure inquiries.

Guessing at the colt’s line if thinking, she nods and explains, “They are solid to the touch, yes, but they cannot hit with enough force to do harm. The equipment will not allow it.”

“Mmm… I’m not buying that. It takes astoundingly little force to do serious damage to somepony if you know what you’re doing. Especially if we’re talking about dislocating joints or things like eyes and whatnot.”

“The attachments everypony is outfitted with will shield them from attacks to the eyes and… other soft spots.”

“Ah. Good to know, even if that wasn’t what I was going to ask about. What I was wondering is what would happen if both of them,” he waves towards the arena, “entered at the same relative place at the same time. I’m guessing the illusion doesn’t just pop to life right on top of ‘em, right?”

The mare chuckles warmly as she shakes her head no. “Indeed not, though that would make for quite a sight. It will simply not manifest until the two are far enough so as to not be touching one another.”

“Gotchya.”

A silence settles between the pair when the two guardsponies square up and get ready. At a blown whistle the fight begins. The unicorn’s horn flashes, launching a yellow lance of power at Rush. The crowd cheers at the instant burst of action, including the pegasus and the bat waiting for them to finish before starting their own match.

Rush leaps to her left as a furrow is blasted in the ground behind where she was standing a split second prior. She grabs a hunk of earth with her telekinesis when she lands and her foreleg lashes out, sending a spray of dirt and grass at her opponent.

The unicorn dives to her left and erects a shield, blocking the attack and retreating away from the charging earth pony. She shoots another beam backwards, but the dirt in the air, her movement, and not having eyes on the target sends the shot wide. Rush suddenly surges, exploding into motion and launching after the unicorn like a loosed bolt, her spear held out ahead of her to impale the fleeing unicorn.

The guard throws a shield up that manages to deflect the spear upwards and to her right, but it shatters under Rush’s impact. The pain from the broken shield causes the unicorn to stumble and, before she can recover, the larger mare is on her. The diving tackle slams Rush into the unicorn’s back and right haunch, causing the pair to slide across the ground and nearly knocking them through the arena’s barrier. Rush’s forehoof comes down like a meteor on the prone mare’s head, causing her enchanted attachments to briefly flash green and her opponent’s red to signal the end of the match.

In Rush’s arena the illusion of the unicorn disperses into motes of light before fading, as does her own illusion in her opponent’s box. Hoots and hollers ring out from the crowd and, especially, from her fellow troops in the Golden Hills squad. The blonde rears up and throws a few shadow punches while dancing around and laughing joyously before trotting out of the arena. The opponents share another hoofbump while the engineers strip the extra gear off and the other pair square up in their own arenas.

“Huh, will ya look at that?” Cure ponders aloud, clapping his forehooves. “Seems my local guards are every bit as capable as I expected.”

Celestia turns and gives the colt a knowing look. “That was an interesting move she executed at the end, was it not?”

“Seemed like a pretty normal tackle to me, boss.”

“Not that,” she argues. “I am referring to the explosive speed with which she closed the distance to her opponent. It was almost as if she somehow magically propelled herself forwards faster than I would expect from even the most physically fit of earth ponies.”

“Really?” he airily replies, inclining his head as if considering the possibility. After a moment’s consideration he shakes his head in dismissal, pointing out, “I bet any strong earth pony with a good grasp on their telekinesis would be capable of doing the same thing.”

“Perhaps,” Celestia noncommittally agrees. “However, I would expect that using one’s grip to accelerate with that much force would also disturb the ground underneath herself to some degree. No,” she shakes her head accusingly postulating, “I believe she may have done something slightly different.”

“Hmm… something different,” he echoes, tilting his head in consideration. “I wonder what it could have been.” The colt lets the question hang in the air for a moment, paying no mind to the princess’s narrow-eyed stare. “You know what? I think I may have figured it out.”

“Oh?” she questions in mock curiosity.

“Yep,” he asserts with a firm nod. “I bet ya it has something to do with her special talent. Her name is Rushing Charge, after all. She must have figured out how to use it intentionally, somehow.”

“Interesting,” she murmurs, voice dripping with sarcasm. “I wonder where, exactly, she could have learned such a thing.”

“I seem to recall somepony talking about starting evening classes for adults to learn more about all that stuff.” With an innocent shrug, he suggests, “She must’a gone to one of those and figured it all out from there. Kudos to her for taking the initiative, I say. I wish everypony would show the same level of diligence and commitment to self improvement. Oh hey, look, the other match is starting,” he points out, thrusting a hoof to the other set of arenas.

The organization teams appear to be staggering the matches. A unicorn from Fillydelphia and a griffon from Manehattan are called up to the box that Rushing and the Canterlot unicorn just departed. As the second match begins the engineers take the opportunity to gear up the fifth and sixth contestants and perform another round of scans or empowerment of the apparati while the bat and pegasus begin their match.

“Odd,” Celestia idly comments. “Those evening classes have not yet begun. I wonder how many other members from her squad might be capable of using their talents beyond what most ponies believe is possible.”

“Who knows?” he wonders aloud. “I guess we shall see, huh?” he asks, the smirk audible in his voice.

Conversation once again comes to a halt as the second match begins. Both the pegasus mare and the bat stallion immediately launch themselves into the air, each one veering slightly to their right so as to not knock each other out with a midair collision. The bat extends his right wing up and away, forcing himself into a counter-clockwise spiral with his left wingblade coming up for a vicious uppercut and his forelegs at the ready to block his opponent’s strike.

The mare spins herself fully upside-down, allowing the wing strike to glance off the thicker, heavier armor of her back and neck while intercepting his forehooves with her own. Her right hind hoof comes up in a kick as the two pass by each other, landing squarely on the stallion’s chest and sending him higher into the air with a grunt, earning a round of cheers and gasps from the audience.

He regains control of his flight almost immediately, inclining his wings to put himself in a small vertical climb and ending with a loop. The pink mare, meanwhile, finishes her spiral and cuts hard to her right while climbing, hoping to close the distance before the other combatant has a chance to recover. Her eyes widen in alarm when she catches sight of the stallion plummeting at her in a steep dive, his fore and hind hooves aiming to stomp her straight back down to the ground.

Right wing extended down and out, a series of quick, hard flaps with her left wing throws her to the right in an attempt to dodge the attack. Having maintained his momentum more efficiently and with gravity on his side, the stallion corrects his course easily enough and, while he doesn’t score a direct hit, his left legs connect with her right side while his wing lashes out in a devastating chopping strike to her back. While the armor may have kept her alive in a real fight, the safety system determines that the damage to her left wing and back are significant enough to end the match, dispersing both illusory combatants into motes of light and casting her armor in a soft, red glow.

Cure’s sharp hearing picks up a few low curses from the mare as she lands and exits the ring.

Wings spread wide, the stallion launches himself in a tight spiral around the inside edge of his arena, gaining speed as the spiral tightens to the point where he’s almost spinning in place in the center of the box. His movement comes to a sudden halt with him facing towards his cheering squad and he pumps his right forehoof in the air, suspended and still for a moment before turning left and gliding down to the exit to the screaming cheers of the spectators.

Still clapping for the victor, Cure points out, “So there’s like… six hundred ponies competing, by my count.”

“Slightly fewer, but that is not far off,” Celestia confirms, casting her eyes over the assembled group of guards watching from the east end of the field.

“Three hundred matches would take like… days to get through, and that’s only for the first round.”

“Indeed it would. That is why there will only be two competitors from each squad rather than allowing everypony to have a round. One private and one corporal from each squad was selected by their commanding officer to participate. I believe Corporal Boomerang Bounce will represent the Golden Hills team in her bracket, for example.”

“Rico,” Cure corrects. “She goes by Ricochet or Rico. Apparently she got called ‘Bouncy’ by other foals when she was a filly, and, for whatever reason, hates the name.”

“I see. I will endeavor to remember that if we ever properly meet. Regardless, as you have seen, since the matches are to ‘first blood,’ as it were, they tend to be extremely short. The committee estimated being able to hold thirty matches per hour, thus concluding the event sometime shortly before noon. The flyers will then compete in a race around the mountain,” she says motioning up to the still hovering cloud rings, “while unicorns complete a magic race, of a sort, and earth ponies compete in a hauling event.”

“Magic race? Like… teleporting or something?”

“No. A series of spells have been selected from the standard guard manual. Unicorns will be prompted to execute one after another, the order of which will be randomly selected for each participant. They will be awarded points for speed, efficiency, and the number of spells they are able to execute within the given time.”

A hint of worry creeps up the colt’s spine as he asks, “Ah. And is that open to commanding officers as well?”

“Yes. I believe Sgt. Gleaming Haze and Cpl. Luring Snare will both participate in the event.”

“That… should be interesting.”

The mare stares on curiously for a moment waiting for him to elaborate. When no explanation for his response is forthcoming, she finally inquires, “What did you do?”

“What?!” he squawks, feigning disbelief. Hoof hold to his chest, he demands to know, “Why are you always accusing me of stuff, boss? Yer startin to hurt my feelings over here. I’m just as innocent as the next pony,” he insists, patting his mom’s head between her ears.

“Right,” Amethyst agrees with an overly solemn nod. “Super innocent. That’s me, princess.”

The princess maintains her doubtful look, casting a look of suspicion between the two. “You are right. I suppose it may be unfair of me to accuse you of anything.”

“Exactly!” Cure chirps.

“Especially when there is no evidence to the contrary.”

“Darn right,” he agrees.

“Which is why I will hold off until after I see the results of the day’s events.”

Cure worries his bottom lip and turns away. “Yeah. Good idea, boss. After all, no smoke, no fire, right?”

“Precisely. And in the interests of fairness, I am barring you from communicating with the competitors until the end of the events. No Sending, no Messaging, no third-party courier,” she adds, glancing at his mom, “and by no other means that creative mind of yours can dream up. Understood?”

The colt sighs and begrudgingly nods, shooting an annoyed side-eye at the ancient mare. “You know… it’s starting to feel like every conversation we have these days ends with you forbidding me from doing something. Is this a pattern I should expect from now on?”

Celestia turns to meet his eyes. Matching his tone she replies, “Perhaps if I could rest assured that I will not have some kind of mess to clean up when you do take action then I would not have to insist that you take none, instead.”

Cure feels his hackles rise and wings lift off his back as he turns to face her head-on. Three times he opens his mouth to respond, each time biting back the snide remark fighting to break free. The temptation to say something nasty in response almost wins out, but he struggles and finally manages to say nothing instead. Silence, he decides, will be the best approach, so with a great deal of effort he turns away to watch the next match, settling down on his mother’s neck and head and forcing the adrenaline coursing through his veins to calm once again.

Author's Note

Last week I had made a comment that I ran into a big hunk of writer's block. I literally cannot tell you how many times I wrote, erased, and rewrote this chapter, and I'm not really sure why I struggled with it so badly. This is only the first half of the day - I fully intend to continue it in Ch. 111, but the rest of what I had written was... well, "a mess" is pretty generous. Rather than trying to organize it and rush out a full chapter today, I am going to focus on getting it done by next Monday instead.

So obviously there's still a bit of... tension between the two alicorns. Celestia has ... three? four? times now forbidden Cure from taking action. This latest one isn't terribly egregious; she basically tells him not to interact with the competitors, which is probably a good idea seeing as how he's definitely biased and can pretty easily tilt the scales.

Would he? No, but she obviously doesn't trust that anymore. If this conversation had not happened out where raised voices could potentially overhear them, it would have likely been a bit more heated. Despite being a foal, Cure (as well as anyone that has managed to live more than a couple decades) knows that lashing out with the first thing that comes to mind is usually a pretty horrible idea. I mean... just imagine if he asked, "Or what, you'll banish me to the moon?" or something like that.

Truthfully, I can imagine him conjuring up another body just to cuss her out outside of earshot. That would probably have been kind of funny - one Cure is sitting there swallowing his argument while several ponies milling about the vendor area hear some random colt cursing up a storm and making nonsensical come-backs to an imaginary conversation partner.

Thanks for reading, rating, and commenting, folks. Enjoy!

Chapter 111: Third Party Solutions

Tuesday, September 8th, 909 AB (seconds later)

Says the Princess of Leaving Messes behind, Cure screams inside his own mind. Discord, Tirek, Luna, Sombra, the Staff of Sacanas, and probably a hundred other fuck ups you couldn’t be bothered to deal with conclusively, all waiting for somepony else to clean up when they eventually rear their heads again.

How fuckin dare you accuse me of making a mess when you didn’t have to do shit other than sit in a twenty minute meeting, then stuff your maw with two thirds of a wedding cake and take a nap. Couldn’t even be bothered to speak up more than a couple times, could you? I’m surprised you didn’t send somepony else to the meeting as a “learning experience” instead of bringing your own ass down there.

The colt silently seethes atop his mother, joining in conversation just enough to maintain the facade of a happy, entertained foal. Only the wanton abuse of his talent and unique body control prevent him from showing his displeasure, and he consciously swallows his anger to keep from having his mane involuntarily ignite.

He’s willing to grant that he may have gone too far with the ambassador, but feels like it’s a relatively tame response considering agents from the stallion’s nation attempting to foalnap him do maker-knows what else to everypony in the car. A little breaking and entering, some menacing, and a small side of inducing terror are, by any standard Cure can fathom, nowhere near as heinous as foalnapping and, potentially, multiple counts of murder.

He knows he’s overreacting to Celestia’s scolding. Though rude, factually incorrect, and, most importantly, insanely hypocritical, her admonishment isn’t that big of a deal. He didn’t have any plans to engage with BRG3 anyhow. After all, if he’s going to maintain his cover he can’t very well pretend to be buddy-buddy with a group from a small suburb. The only publicly established link Prince Serpentus has with them aside from them providing escort for this trip is the training he attends with Sgt. Song and Ebony Foil.

The stray thought leads him to briefly consider looking for the filly, but the thought is dismissed almost right away. Prince Serpentus paying attention to another pony, even as nothing more than a classmate and acquaintance, will almost certainly spell trouble for the older girl. As much as he’d like to have a friend to go check out the vendor stalls with, unless he does so in disguise he’ll simply draw too much attention. Using a second body is right out since that would require that he disclose an ability he’d prefer not share.

As tempting as it may be, the colt reluctantly comes to the conclusion that he’s all but stuck sitting and watching the fights instead of getting up and actually doing something. That’s not a huge problem; the world, for the most part, has few events that Cure finds genuinely entertaining to simply watch. Gladiatorial fights, even simulated ones, offer an experience that he didn’t anticipate encountering for quite some time, if ever.

Through the haze of his simmering anger, Cure’s attention is drawn to the two combatants trotting over to get suited up for the next match; a pair of unicorns both from up north. While the mare from Whinnyapolis has a lovely dark purple coat, it’s the stallion from Chicoltgo going up against her that gets the crowd’s attention. His enhanced hearing lets him pick up more than a few murmurs of appreciation from the mares, in particular.

On one hoof, Cure almost feels bad for the dude; summer must be absolute hell with his solid black coat and mane. On another hoof, there’s no denying that in a sea of colorful creatures, the few ponies like this fellow and Cure’s own sire do tend to stand out a little. That his colors contrast so sharply with his golden armor helps draw the eye as well. Cure is comfortable enough with his masculinity, prepubescent as it may be, to admit that he can recognize when a stallion is attractive. While it is merely an objective observation for the foal, the mares with their heat bearing down on them are quite a bit more vocal in their opinions.

What’s more is that the stallion clearly knows the overwhelmingly female audience is all but lifting their tails for him. More than a few ladies, especially those down closer to the field, unsubtly shift their hips so as to lay more on their sides to show off more of their flanks. Not only that, but the amount of chest fluff being puffed out in his direction could drown a stallion if he’s not careful.

As tempted as he is to make a quip about how much trouble the stallion will be in if the mares manage to find what hotel he’s staying in, the colt simply doesn’t feel like expending the energy required to try to be funny. The princess probably wouldn’t find much humor in it, and even if his mother did, he likely wouldn’t earn himself any more than a polite chuckle.

The other unicorn seems a little annoyed at all of the attention aimed his direction. Cure can’t blame her; it sucks to have such an overwhelming portion of the audience cheering for your opponent, even if they’re only doing so because they want to jump his bones. The mare’s resolve hardens even further when the stallion regards her with a waggle of his brows and a lecherous up-down look. The helpers gearing them up must have picked up on the tension; they quickly suit the two up and interpose themselves between them while ushering them to their respective squares.

“I reckon that feller’s set himself up for a whoopin,” Amethyst quietly observes.

“Or he simply wishes to rile up his opponent,” Celestia suggests. In a subdued tone she adds, “I know firsthoof how anger can cloud one’s judgment, after all.”

The signal to start is only just given when the mare, without moving, leans heavily on her forelegs, rearing forward as if to buck the air behind her. The stallion does what anypony would do in the situation; he gives her a somewhat confused look and fires a beam in her direction.

The silver lance nearly reaches the mare when she disappears in a flash of light, popping into existence right behind the stallion’s rump. Her back hooves shoot out in an almighty buck, landing squarely on his buttcheeks and sending him flying forwards a couple meters to slam face first into the ground.

“Ouch,” Cure flatly comments with a wince, earning agreeing nods from the others. He is by far not the only one commiserating with the poor stallion. The reactions from the audience run the gamut from outright laughter to muzzle-covered gasps of horror.

The sensors on his armor must not have registered him as completely out of the fight, as they continue glowing in a soft blue light. It doesn’t do him any favors, though; the mare doesn’t see fit to give him a chance to recover, firing what Cure recognizes as a Stun bolt into his prone form. The system doesn’t actually stun the downed stallion, but it still registers that he is fully incapacitated and awards her the win.

In a disappointing show of poor sportsmareship, the mare turns to leave her arena, kicking her left hind hoof at the ground to shower the spot previously occupied by his Illusion with a spray of dirt. It’s pointless since he wasn’t actually present, but Cure feels like that almost makes it worse, in a way.

He’s not really sure why it ticks him off so much. Perhaps some of it is due to his already shitty mood, or maybe he simply doesn’t feel like that’s an appropriate behavior for a guard, but the colt isn’t willing to let such blatant disrespect go so easily. A flash of his horn teleports him down to the field, startling not only the nearby spectators but also the engineering team, the four ponies waiting for their turn, and the two still being stripped of the extra gear just to his left.

He faces the pony he assumes to be in charge of ensuring the equipment is properly maintained and equipped on each participant and, in a conversational tone, calls out, “Lieutenant.”

The unicorn snaps to attention, turns his whole body to face his superior, and salutes. “Sir! Yes, sir?”

“While you are getting ponies suited up, please remind them that they are members of the Equestrian Royal Guard. It is expected that their behavior should reflect such. I’m not against having a bit of fun or celebrating a victory, but I can’t say I approve of blatant flirting with your opponent just before a match, nor do I approve of disrespecting somepony, especially after their defeat. Can you do that for me?”

The colt doesn’t need to turn his head to his left to feel the flush on both combatants. Whether it’s from the embarrassment of being called out by a foal or the dismay at the ass-chewing he is certain their commanding officers will give them later, without even looking in their direction his heat sensing ability has the pair lighting up like a couple bonfires.

“Sir! Absolutely, sir!”

“Very good. Thank you, lieutenant. Carry on.” Request given, Cure spreads his wings and disappears in another flash of light, appearing less than a hoofspan above his mom and landing gently on her back.

Amethyst turns her head to the left, quietly murmuring, “Seemed a little harsh, colt.”

“Tough,” he dismisses with a shrug. “They’re on the clock, and they’re supposed to represent some of the finest the nation has to offer.” He glances to his left and cocks a brow, inquiring, “Do you disagree?”

Celestia sighs but shakes her head no. Quiet enough that she cannot be overheard, she answers, “I do not, though I would suggest that you not chastise ponies so publicly in the future. As an alicorn and their prince, they tend to take such things to heart much more than you would expect. They are, after all, only privates. To have somepony in your station point out a mistake can greatly affect them.” She turns her head and inclines her muzzle, motioning to where the two have returned to their squads.

In Cure’s opinion, the pair look absolutely pathetic. Their tails are tucked, ears are pinned back, cheeks are flushed, shoulders are slumping, and heads are still hung almost below their chest. “Friggin really?” he all but whines. “You’d think I beat them with a rolled up newspaper!” he quietly hisses. “They are soldiers.”

“They are teenagers,” she points out. “Soldiers they may be, but even if they are adults that does not mean they will not act immature at times. Let their commanding officers correct such behavior. Not only have you superseded their authority, you also stepped in before anypony else had an opportunity to say anything to them. How do you think Colonel Mayday feels, having you issuing an order to a lieutenant under his command in front of everypony?”

She doesn’t give him the chance to respond before continuing. Tilting her head to subtly motion towards the throng of reporters snapping pictures, she adds, “Bear in mind that every action either of us takes in public is seen by everypony. Dozens of papers nationwide will likely have headlines about Prince Serpentus seeing the need to discipline guards for flirtatious behavior and poor sportsmareship during the very first event of the competition.”

“But… I didn’t discipline anypony!” he halfheartedly disagrees despite already knowing that the argument is incredibly weak. Celestia doesn’t even have to respond verbally and instead just gives him a knowing look. “Fine!” he huffs, throwing his hooves into the air in surrender. “I’ll just sit here and keep my stupid muzzle shut.” The colt hops down off his mother’s back and lays heavily against her right side to rest his head against her shoulder.

“Unfortunately, when in public, that is generally the best thing you can do. I am sure you have heard the saying: Praise publicly, criticize privately.”

“Yeah, yeah. I know. I’ve got it,” he grumbles, nodding against his mother’s side in acceptance.

As the fights progress, Cure feels a growing need to be doing something, and he isn’t sure why. Youthful energy is one thing, but the nagging, persistent need to move or play or walk around just continues to build. Finally growing tired of ignoring the unrelenting desire to act, Cure focuses back on his connection to the rings to see what is going on at his clinic.

Unsurprisingly, the answer is basically nothing; one of the castle patrols has stopped in for a quick snack, but aside from some idle chit chat, nothing interesting is going on. Watching them drop in for a break does give him an idea, though. It may not be immensely profitable, but at the very least it will provide a distraction.

Weeks of insanity leading up to the Squads Competition had left Folded Page exhausted at the end of each work day. Being in charge of vendor approval for the event meant that, for the last few days in particular, the cream colored unicorn has had to put up with pony after pony breaking down her door at the last minute to get a vendor permit approved for the event.

Even with the first day already underway, she knows today isn’t going to be any better until at least tomorrow. Heaving an enormous sigh, she barely even settles her rump into the seat behind her desk when one of the newer pegasi from the reception area begins rapping gently at the frame of her open door.

“Sweet Celestia, Swift… already?!” she nearly cries in dismay. “I haven’t even gotten my chair warm yet!”

The poor colt cringes and ducks his head in apology, meekly explaining, “There’s a… a zebra mare, Mrs. Page. I… I think she’s a shaman. Says she has alchemical treatments you can’t find anywhere else.”

“A shaman?!”

The young stallion looks back over his withers at the odd zebra, then turns back with a shrug. “I… think? She’s dressed up like one, at least. Also, she’s rhyming like I’ve heard they do.”

“Alright,” she sighs, “send her in, please.”

“Yes, ma’am!” he chirps, waving a wing as he turns to rush back to the lobby.

It’s only seconds later when the zebra strolls through the door like she owns the place, her head held high and full chest proudly thrust out. Page never understood the need for so much jewelry; five thick gold bands clink lightly with every step the mare takes, and it’s a wonder her ears can move at all with the assortment of loops lining each one. A peculiar, though pleasant scent follows her as she takes a seat on the opposite side of her desk.

Her posture, even when relaxed, seems to almost scream “regal” with the way she inclines her head, subtly looking down her muzzle at the shorter mare. It strikes Page as odd that, unlike most zebra mares, the shaman must be every bit as tall as an earth pony stallion. What’s even more unusual is the cutie mark she briefly caught sight of under the mare’s back dressing. Page had always thought zebras couldn’t get those, but somehow this mare has a set, or at least something that looks like one.

“Greetings,” the zebra begins in a deep, sultry voice as she offers a shallow dip of her muzzle, “a vendor permit I wish to obtain. I was informed by the staff that this is your domain.”

“Domain? Oh! My job! Yes, I’m in charge of vendor permits for the festivities. Unfortunately you’re a little late for the good spots, but there are still quite a few available more towards the periphery. Mostly to the far east or north of the event grounds.”

Despite the mediocre news, the shaman gives Page a beaming smile. “An isolated spot will be just fine. That will give me more room for when I have a line. There is something of which I would inquire. Is there a specific time at which I must retire?”

“Retire? Do you mean close up for the day?”

“Precisely.”

“No?” Page answers, slowly shaking her head. “Not really, unless you’re only interested in a daily permit, in which case your lot must be vacated by midnight. Otherwise you can stay open around the clock until we pack it all up Saturday morning. Now, most vendors do close around dinner time, but we also have some bat families staying open for the after-hours crowd.”

“Fantastic!” the mare cheers, her jewelry clinking as she shifts in place. “While I am certain that many will visit during daytime, the evening is when my services will truly shine.”

“Oh? Exactly what kind of services, if I may ask?”

“Alchemical rituals related to fertility and intimacy. If you desire a foal, it is me you should see.”

Page’s brows nearly disappear into her mane. She is past that part of her life, thank the maker, but there’s no shortage of friends she can think of that are spoiling for a foal or grandfoal. “Oh?”

“Indeed! If you wish for a colt or maybe even twins then it is at my shop that your journey begins. For only a modest fee to replace my exotic supplies, I can make them a guarantee instead of a joyous surprise.” Page’s eyes widen at the implication as the disguised colt continues, “This is by no means the breadth of what all can easily be cured. Illness, injury, deformity, or even small size; I can help all, rest be assured.”

Eyes wide with excitement, Page pulls the top drawer of her desk open in a rush, levitates out the necessary application form, turns it around, and all but slams it on her desk. “A hundred bits per day or three hundred and fifty for the week.”

The shaman’s staff falls forward out of the back drape it was holstered in, the butt of it bouncing off the floor before it is deftly caught and spun in a small twirl around the mare’s right pastern. She stops it in the crook of her fetlock and reaches towards the desk. Instinctively, Page leans away, offering an apologetic smile when the zebra freezes for a second and meets her eyes when a quirked brow. Seeing that the unicorn has schooled her reaction, the shaman sets the end of her staff lightly on the paper.

Page is shocked to see how the application is completed. Lines of black ink seem to crawl off the end of the mare’s staff like the legs of a spider, neatly filling in each field with crisp, printed script almost like the typewriter that some of the ponies in the Tax Department use. She can’t deny that the small, subtle, simple use of magic is somehow even more intimidating than the mare’s stature or solid build. Once the form is completed, the inky tendrils recede back into the staff, vanishing as if they never existed at all.

“I would pay good money for that spell alone,” she wistfully remarks.

The shaman chuckles warmly and shakes her head. “If only it were something that could be given. Unfortunately, sharing even the basics would land me in prison. Selling my services is the limit of what is permitted. If I tried to teach instead then I would certainly be committed.”

“A shame,” Page sighs. She worries her bottom lip for a moment and leans closer over her desk to ask, “Hey… I was wondering… Why do you shaman all do that,” she waves a forehoof vaguely at the mare, “rhyming thing?”

The zebra looks over her withers at the open door, then turns back and leans across the desk closer to Page. “Honestly?” she whispers quietly enough that nopony can overhear. “We just like screwing with you ponies for the fun of it. It’s all a big joke, but don’t tell anypony.” She sits back up and gives the gobsmacked mare a playful wink.

Her staff glows a deep green and, in a small flash, a stack of coins pops into existence on Page’s desk, startling her out of her shocked daze. “Three hundred and fifty bits and the transaction is complete. Now if you don’t mind, could I bother you for a receipt?”

“Oh!” the unicorn exclaims, floating the bits into a strongbox. She pulls a receipt pad out of her drawer and quickly fills it out, tearing the top off before duplicating it with the Copy spell and passing it over. “Thank you very much, Miss…” she glances at the application and slowly sounds out, “Kahaba Matobo! I would wish you good luck, but if your treatments really work I don’t think you’ll need any at all!”

With the receipt and approval in hoof, Cure has his shaman exit Town Hall, then fire off a series of teleports to disappear to the west, eventually stopping just inside the Everfree at his next closest node. Mass begins pouring through the both portals as tendrils emerge from her chest, wrapping around her neck like a harness before stretching back and merging with the large, boxy wagon that the other portal is assembling.

There is no need for steel thanks to the aura-lightened wood, though the lack of springs would make for a rather bumpy ride if anypony were sitting in it. That’s fine as far as he’s concerned; the thing won’t do anything but serve as a room to give patients a modicum of privacy and as a place to perform his “rituals” away from prying eyes.

The trot back into town, through the streets, and into the event grounds takes over an hour, but the disguised colt doesn’t mind one bit. The long walk through the busy streets just gives everypony plenty of opportunity to see the signage listing the services that “Madame Adiah’s Fertility Clinic” will be offering for the next few days.

The lot certainly is far out away from the event grounds to the south, but it suits Cure, or “Madame Adiah” just fine. All of the vendors are arranged along a winding path that loops a couple hundred meters further north of the spot. Hers is on the inside of the loop facing towards the city, which won’t be too bad in the evening thanks to the shadow of the Canterhorn.

When Adiah arrives at her lot she turns the wagon so it’s facing south before detaching from the harness, which she tosses inside and out of sight. She trots around to the back and lifts open a large panel by the back door to reveal a folded up lever and a wheel crank. She pulls the lever down and pushes it back up, cranking like a jack to pretend working some internal mechanism. Several neighboring vendors and more than a few passers-by stop to watch the bizarre contraption the zebra mare pumps, lowering four thick posts with each action of the lever.

Once the legs extend enough to lift off the wheels, she whips out her staff and removes the pins holding them in place, then the wheels themselves, stacking them on the opposite side of the wagon. She folds the lever back up and slams her hoof on a button, then steps away from the wagon as it begins to slowly descend with an odd hiss.

It stops just a few centimeters above the ground, just tall enough for the undercarriage and four posts to hold it up. Next she spins the wheel crank, causing the sides to extend, widening the wagon by a meter on each side.

Workspace established, she moves to the next task, aware of the growing audience she is amassing. With a flourish of her staff, two posts float out of the wagon and stab into the ground a few meters closer to the path. Wrapped in her magic, an awning stretches itself from the top of the wagon, attaches itself to the two poles, then tie-downs impale themselves in the grass.

Awning in place, she begins floating out shelving units that seem to adhere themselves to the side facing the path. Not wanting to sell anything that ties too directly to either Prince Serpentus or Cure Wave, she floats out several adult themed, but inoffensive items. Soaps, candles, and bath bombs in dozens of scents along with a wide selection of “lubricants,” also with various flavors and effects.

The lube is the most closely related product to anything he had shown, but that, by itself, is not a new product. The warming and flavored effects are unlike anything he had presented to Director Storm, mainly because he felt that, as a foal, suggesting items like that may be going a little too far.

With the shelves and products in place, she floats a sandwich board sign out of the wagon and props it up to face the path. It lists not only the items for sale, but also the the “ritual” services the mare is offering, some with notes indicating they are effective only on males or females. Gender selection rituals, for example, must be performed on a sire, whereas the procedure to give the couple twins must be performed on the mare.

The prices for most being far lower than anypony would expect, and a small fraction of what many families would gladly pay. She is only charging at all because not doing so would be very suspicious, so most items on the menu are under fifty bits simply to maintain appearances. That and because it’s likely most ponies wouldn’t risk much in a transaction that won’t bear fruit until well after the vendor has disappeared. Only cosmetic changes are expensive, but if there’s one lesson the internet taught the colt, it’s that dudes will pay almost anything for even a little extra down below.

There’s almost a full-on traffic jam in front of her spot when she hops up into the front door of her wagon. A loud cranking noise sounds out as a tall billboard sign slowly raises off the top of the wagon, proudly declaring that Madame Adiah’s Fertility Clinic is open for business.

A loud “clunk” seems to lock the sign in place, and the mare reemerges from within only a moment later, wiping a bead of sweat from her brow. She smiles beautifully for the gathered crowd and loudly declares, “Madame Adiah’s clinic is open and ready to share! Who would like to be the first to receive my care? Doubts and concerns may plague your mind, but my services are genuine, this you will soon find. Whether a colt or a filly or both you wish for, I can guarantee that will happen, this I assure!”

Satisfied he’ll be able to make a few bits and, more importantly, do a small part to help ponies desiring a foal, Cure watches on as Rushing Charge steps into the arena for her third match of the day. She won her previous flight quickly when an earth pony stallion mistakenly believed he could simply overpower the mare. The fight ended with a him-shaped imprint being filled in by the ground maintenance crew after Rush managed to wrap her forelegs around his barrel and hoist him off the ground.

He feels like there’s an “earth” pony joke somewhere in there, but the moment passes before his brain can piece it together.

By either pure chance or the equally unpredictable whims of fate, her third opponent of the day is a pegasus mare; a rather petite, bright white girl that Cure suspects can’t be much over sixteen. Her youth hasn’t helped anypony she’s faced so far, though; she has made quick work of every one of them, likely due in no small part to her special talent.

The Dart of Dodge moniker is aptly earned, and the surging dagger on each flank should be warning enough for anypony with half a brain. Just like Lt. Spear, Sgt. Song, and Cure’s own grandmother, the mare has proven exactly how dangerous facing a pony with a talent-related weapon can be.

She had previously eliminated one of the favorites to win the entire event. In a stunning display of agility, she had neatly spun around the long, powerful forelegs of one of the massive stallions from Vanhoover, scoring a slice across his belly that, in a real fight, would have been a horrible, gruesome way to go.

As much as he would like to root for the home team, the colt isn’t all that certain about the orange mare’s odds. He suspects this to be a match where Rush could win a real fight, but not one with the ruleset the event is sticking to. The problem with using a knife against an earth pony is that by the time an attacker moves in close enough, they are likely encroaching into the sphere of influence that the earth pony can affect with their TK.

If Rush manages to get a grasp of the weapon then she should be able to wrench it away. Similarly, if she can grab onto the pony or her armor, the odds shift considerably in her favor.

None of that matters if the first attack scores a good hit, and from the looks of things Rush has come to the same conclusion. Instead of the full spear she used in earlier matches, she chooses a short spear and a larger shield for added defense.

The two bump hooves before heading to their respective squares, the difference in hoof size and stature making the pairing seem unfair. Each one squares up with the illusory doppelganger, Rush with most of her weight on her hind legs and some on the bottom edge of her shield, and her opponent fully reared up, a dagger in each hoof.

The latter launches herself in the air the instant the match begins, flying slightly over head height in a tight loop around her larger opponent in an attempt to find an opening. Rush pivots behind her shield, keeping it between her body and the smaller mare. This continues for a couple rounds until Rush experimentally jabs out with her spear. Dart swats at it with her left wingblade, using it as a fulcrum to pitch inwards harder and score a hit on Rush’s back.

The orange mare hits the ground, ducking under the attack, and the two reset to resume the spiraling standoff. More probing attacks keep the pegasus at bay until she finally realizes she isn’t going to find an easy opening. Seeing that the earth pony isn’t even beginning to tire, Dart lands and squats down on her hind legs, determined to use her quicker build to her advantage on the ground instead. With her wings adding thrust, she skips from side to side on her approach, never letting Rush line up an ideal frontal attack.

Cure feels a twinge of both amusement and guilt when his mind involuntarily compares the white mare’s movements to those of a chicken. The wings-up, reared back hopping gait is probably the best way to approach her opponent, but it still looks absolutely ridiculous compared to true bipedal locomotion.

It was the better part of a year ago that the colt had given some relevant advice; he vividly recalls warning Wind Shear to never fight an earth pony on the ground, and that was when she had, in theory, a significant mass advantage over him. Rush is probably triple her opponent’s weight, so Cure can only assume that Dart is going with a last-ditch approach. If she can get in and land a good hit then the system should end the match in an instant, granting her the win.

It goes exactly as poorly as Cure anticipated; as soon as she gets close enough that she can’t easily dodge, the heavy shield lashes out like a moving brick wall. The mare deftly hops back, avoiding the strike, but with her wings on the backswing and her momentum backwards she has no way to dodge the incoming spear. Her daggers come up, skillfully deflecting it over her head in an X, but the force of the blow further fouls her stance.

Rush is all too happy to take advantage, bringing her shield in front of her and blasting forward in a talent-fueled charge. The smaller mare’s eyes widen comically at the steel freight train barreling down, and the dueling system’s safety mechanisms kick on the instant her face and chest are met with the oncoming assault. The visual effect strikes the colt as pretty badass; in her own box, it looked like Rush hit the mare so hard she literally exploded into light.

The three in the private box clap politely as the combatants make their way out of the squares to be stripped. Cure, meanwhile, makes a mental note to find the mare’s real name. After all, a list of ponies with weapon-based talents would be very useful for a pony that is so eager to learn.

Cure, in his Adiah guise, had been keeping a close eye on the group of teenage colts checking out her wares. Unsurprisingly, the four of them had immediately honed in on the lubricants being offered for sale. “Excuse me, miss?” the oldest amongst them calls with a smirk

“Greetings and salutations to you I say. How can Madame Adiah help you this day?”

His horn ignites, levitating a bottle of the warming lubricant between himself and the mare. His three buddies nearly break down in laughter, barely holding back with blatant snickers between them as they watch on.

“I was actually wondering about this, uh… warming potion.”

She raises a brow in question. “Yes? If you have a question you only need ask. I can certainly explain how to use that flask.”

“Oh! Perfect!” he exclaims, allowing his eyes to drift to the entrance of her wagon. “I was actually hoping you could show me how it works. You know…” he deepens his voice to try to sound seductive, “maybe show me yourself.” His friends burst out laughing, making no attempt to hide their amusement. “Perhaps you would be interested in demonstrating inside?” he asks, his sides shaking and tail swinging with amusement.

“I see,” she says, nodding in understanding. “While I always do my best to keep the customer satisfied, for what you seek you will need to find a different guide. This particular product works better than you may surmise, but proposition me again and it will go into your eyes.” She takes a step closer, towering over the no longer laughing colt. “Do you have any other questions, lee-tle one? Or have I said enough that your amusement is done?”

“We’re good!” he insists, setting the tube back on the shelf. “Have a nice day!” he calls, turning to flee along with his friends.

The mare theatrically sighs, more for show than anything. Even though the stall has only been open for about an hour, more than a few stallions - mostly younger ones, oddly enough - have already suggested they make use of her wagon for services that are very clearly not on her board. The frustrating part for the colt is that he specifically chose a female zebra form, especially an unusually large and muscular one, because he figured it would be too “different” for many stallions, or mares for that matter, to make a pass at.

Maybe the Sphinx idea he floated with the girls wasn’t such a bad one after all. It’s unlikely, though not impossible, that anypony would have the balls to proposition such an unknown and potentially dangerous creature, but that would also likely scare away a good number of ponies that would otherwise be willing to approach her. Zebra seemed to be the happy middle ground, and putting “Matobo Whore” as her name on the official paperwork struck him as exceedingly amusing.

She is pulled from her reverie by a soft voice from her side quietly mumbling, “That was amazing!”

Turning to her left, she smiles down at the young batpony threesome by her side and dips her head in a bow. “It was, perhaps, a little more harsh than intended, but I cannot deny that the effect was indeed splendid. Is there anything you need with which I can help? I hope I did not offend you by dealing with that whelp.”

“No! No, not at all!” the lone stallion insists. “Actually, we were… oh, I don’t want to sound like I doubt you,” he hesitates, scuffing the ground with his forehoof.

The mare on his right steps in to explain, “What our husband was going to say is, does it really work? Can you ensure that we have twins? And colts, too?”

“Absolutely! Of this you are correct! So long as you are in season, twin colts you could expect. However, if you both desire to be so blessed, there is but one thing that I feel I must suggest. My rituals can indeed ensure colt seeds are sewed, but,” she pauses, leaning down to whisper more quietly and focuses on the stallion, “I cannot guarantee it will work on more than one load.” Standing upright to resume as the poor guy blushes crimson, she adds, “I would suggest limiting yourself to one per day, which should be easy, for all week I will stay.”

The two mares, both every bit as flushed as their husband, share a look. A silent conversation passes between them, then they both nod in unison. The one on the stallion’s right takes a step forward and says, “I’ll go first. What do we do?”

Adiah waves a hoof to her wagon’s front door, explaining, “My wagon’s inside will provide some seclusion, granting us privacy for the alchemical infusion.” A wave of her staff has a sign unfurl reading “Be back in a moment!” and all of the products firmly stick themselves in place on her shelves.

She leads the three into the relatively spacious room, waving the other mare and the husband to a built-in couch on the right side of the room. The three pause a moment to take the interior of the room in. Row after row of vials line the left side of the room above a countertop with an exhaustive array of herbs, plants, and scientific equipment the likes of which they’ve never seen. The decor is a combination of a rip-off of the zebra ambassador’s bedroom, along with a few African tribal masks affixed to the walls for decoration.

Of course, everything in the room is simply for show. The vials are nothing more than colored sugar water, and all the “scientific equipment” does nothing more than look interesting.

A large, ceramic plate is set in the center of the room. Any actual mage would likely be completely perplexed by it, as the symbols decorating it all are nonsensical gibberish. Cure figures that the sheer quantity of them along with unrelated mathematical formulae should confuse anypony long enough for him to cast his spell and get them out the door.

“We shall begin with the dam to ensure you are prepared. Please have a seat in the circle, and do not be scared.” She plucks a green vial from the shelf and pulls off the cork, holding it up as she says, “This vial of life, with you I will infuse. If you are unsure then now is the time to refuse.”

“No! I’m ready!” the bat pony insists.

“Fantastic!” Adiah exclaims, offering the vial for the mare to drink.

She knocks it back in one go, humming in surprise at the flavor. “Oh good! I was worried it would taste awful!”

Adiah ignores the comment and raises her staff, filling it with a bright green glow as she explains, “You will feel on your coat a brushing like wind, and in only a moment your waiting egg will be twinned.” The staff flashes brightly for a moment, then begins glowing again as Adiah reaches out, brushing it along the mare’s shoulder. She nods in approval, smiling broadly at the mare. “The deed, it is done! There are two where there was previously only one.” She turns to face the partners and waves to the plate on the floor. “Next is the sire, if you don’t mind. Right here on the ritual circle, plant your behind.”

“Oh…kay?” he hesitantly agrees, climbing down to trade places with his wife.

Adiah holds up a hoof to get everypony’s attention. “I must convey to you a small warning fact; this magic will very likely cause you to… react.” She moves her hoof in a clockwise circle to point at his wives, “As flattered by the attention as I may be, I would ask that you turn to face away from me.”

“Oh… maker help me,” he quietly laments.

“Worry not, my batpony friend. This is not something with which you can offend. It is merely the result of my magic at work. I know it is strange, but it is an inevitable quirk.”

The poor stallion’s ears still fold back as both mares quietly snicker at his plight. He begrudgingly turns around to face away from the zebra, looping his tail around his rump to keep it entirely in the circle. Adiah floats another vial, uncorked, around the stallion in offering. He smiles sheepishly over his withers, then drinks it down before offering the empty back to her.

“Oh… oh my!” the poor bat exclaims as Cure’s magic gets to work. The effect is every bit as pronounced as Adiah had warned, and both mares are giggling quietly as their husband gets a chub under the tender hoof of the unusually large zebra.

It only takes a moment for her to complete her work. “There we go!” Adiah proudly exclaims, “You are both prepared for the big event, so now is the time for me to collect my payment. A low price I will offer to you three; fifty bits total is all it will be.”

One of the mares begins digging into her bag for some coins, quietly mumbling, “I can’t believe you’re only asking for fifty bits. You could charge thousands in Canterlot for this!”

Adiah smiles warmly at the mare as she accepts the coins, noting that she actually gave her a little extra. “I know that many would pay anything for this service, but the spreading of life is my very purpose. Others may do this solely for pay, but what I do brings great joy at the end of my day. Send anypony to me that will lend you an ear, so that together we might be able to spread this cheer.”

Once again standing across the arena from a unicorn, Rush mentally prepares herself for the match to begin. Having already tipped her hoof and shown her special talent, she opts to go with the more conservative choice of a shield and spear for the remainder of her matches. Her confidence rises when she sees the stallion opposite her has a sword held aloft in his aura. Even with the flexibility that unicorns have with melee weapons, it strikes her as downright foolish for one to even consider getting close enough to an earth pony to actually use the thing.

Hoping for an easy win, she propels herself forward, shield and spear held out, ready to run the stallion through, or at least knock him back out of the barrier. She can’t hold back the smile that plays across her lips when roots shoot up out of the ground in an attempt to ensnare her. Nothing so trivial as a few conjured vines can slow down a Rushing Charge, and the last-second shield the poor guy tries to erect folds like paper when she blasts through it, and him, to end the match.

Not wanting to be the subject of Cure’s … Prince Serpentus’ ire, she holds back celebrating too much at earning her a spot in the final match, choosing simply to hold her spear up in victory before demurely trotting out of the square. With only one other match left in the Private Rank Matches, the engineers don’t even bother removing her enchanted additions. Instead, they check them over to ensure they’re still charged up and have her sit down to rest while somepony fetches a water for her.

Meanwhile she considers what she’ll do against her last opponent; the same batpony stallion from Tampa Neigh that she saw go right after her first thing this morning. As best she can tell, whatever his talent does seems to be related to his wing strikes. It seems like every time he has landed a hit with his wing his target has been cleanly knocked out of the fight. Sgt. Song has hammered into her head that bat and pegasi wing strikes can hurt, but typically not so much as to penetrate an earth pony’s heavier armor with a single strike.

That didn’t stop the stallion from sending his last opponent skidding across the ground when he landed a solid roundhouse on her, though. She considers that it may finally be time to use her ace in the hole; the special move she came up with when the colt asked exactly what all she can do with her talent.

Yeah, she nods to herself, I think it’s time. Besides, what better way is there to win first place and really wow the crowd?

The surge of confidence doesn’t go unnoticed by her opponent. The stallion quirks a brow at her when she suddenly hops to her hooves and tells the ponies running the show that she’s ready to go. The two share a hoofbump before splitting up, with her heading to the closer square and him, as the supposedly more mobile competitor, flying off to the further away one. Against common sense, she drops off her shield and grabs a longer lance along the way, drawing even more confusion from the southern bat.

Rush makes her way into the arena and trots all the way to the far wall. The heavier lance doesn’t seem to weigh anything in her grip as she settles into a three-legged stance and gives the nod to signal that she is ready. The whistle blows to begin the match and both combatants spring into action. Rush locks her eyes onto his chest; the perfect target for the end of her lance.

With a spray of dirt blasting backwards, she launches herself across the arena. Just as she expected, the stallion launches himself in the air, attempting to pass over her to strike at her rear. Hind hooves skidding across the worn grass, Rush rears back on her back legs and focuses the magic inside her, eyes still affixed to her target of choice as he tries to pass out of her reach overhead. Feeling the pressure come to a head, the mare lets the power explode out her hind hooves, sending her charging straight up into the air.

The poor bat has absolutely no time to react. One moment he is ten meters above her, the next she’s blasting through his dissolving Illusion, smiling in joy at her winning the event. A split second decision has her throwing the lance away as gravity reminds her of its inevitable pull.

She distantly hears shouts of surprise and alarm as she begins falling back to the ground, but there’s no need to worry. Earth ponies are tough, even if this might hurt a little. Knees slightly bent, she courses magic through her body as she orients with the ground, aiming to come down on all fours. The impact buckles her legs and knocks the wind right out of her lungs, leaving four indents from her hooves and her lying prone on the ground.

Silence reigns across the field as everypony gasps and holds their breath. Carefully, she pushes herself off the ground and pulls her hooves out of the holes, patting herself down to make sure all the parts are where they belong. Smile nearly splitting her face, she rears up on her hind hooves and thrusts her forelegs into the sky, ignoring the minor aches and pains that she’s certain will suck during tomorrow’s events.

The crowd goes wild.

Author's Note

So I can now officially say that typing in rhyme, even if I think I did an *okay* job of it, absolutely sucks ass. Especially if you're trying not to repeat the same sound or do Yoda-speak the whole time. I think I spent about 80% of this chapter on Adiah's dialogue alone. I had hoped to get completely through day 1 of the event on this chapter, but now I need to decide how to handle the rest of the day because I really don't want to spend a whole month on 1 day in-story.

Eh, I'll figure it out.

So I'm sure several folks will wonder what the story is with the multiple names. Adiah is a stage name that he's using because he probably can't publicly use Kahaba. Kahaba, according to Google translate because I'm a lazy bastard, is Swahili for prostitute or whore. I'm not sure which, or even if the language has different words for the different contexts. I would be kind of surprised if it didn't, but I don't want to spend a lot of my free time looking up the various ways to say "you sell yourself" in a different language. So the official paperwork will, eventually, probably, get pulled by someone who will recognize the word and get curious, especially with that tribe's name attached.

Does Cure know what will happen? No. Does he care? Not really. If Celestia eventually gets word of it she'll instantly know who is responsible, but she would have anyhow. If she does find out, will she object to Cure doing this? Eh, maybe? Maybe not? Who knows?

She's probably kind of figured out that she can only get away with issuing so many more demands of the colt before he tells her to kindly stuff it, either directly or by ignoring her decrees. Especially when he's not really doing anything she can point at and say "That is really bad. Don't do that ever again." After all, using a fake name isn't a big deal, even if it is a tribe that we already suspect doesn't like him.

Besides, the Alicorn of Life is going to spread life. That's kinda his thing. Telling him to stop would be like someone else telling her to stop raising the sun because a group of unicorns can do it just fine.

We see some ponies that evidently have an idea of how to use their special talent. The one mare teleports in an instant, the pegasus mare is a pro with daggers (like Lt. Spear), and the bat stallion can apparently hit much harder than he should be able to with his wings. Of course, none of them considered that Rush could charge up as well. I mean... why wouldn't she be able to? In a horizontal charge, her hooves would probably be off the ground for several meters at a time anyhow.

So... BRG3 takes home the first win, right out of the gate. Yay, team!

As always, thanks for reading, rating, and, especially, commenting. Enjoy!

Chapter 112: Taking the Lead

Tuesday, September 8th, 909 AB (seconds later)

The three in the Royal Box watch on as Rush basks in her victory. Once the cheers and shouts begin to settle, she runs out of the arena and almost tackles the bat stallion in a hug, squeezing him tightly against her hard chest and armor before releasing him with a parting slap on the plate covering his withers. Cure can't help but snicker when he hears an “oof” from the dude as the hit lands, but aside from rocking a little he doesn’t otherwise seem any worse for the experience.

As the engineering team begins removing her gear and Colonel Mayday approaches to offer his congratulations, Celestia risks a glance over Amethyst’s back at the colt. She had noticed a shift in his demeanor nearly an hour prior when the pressure from his ambient magic had begun to gradually settle. The anger she felt has now completely disappeared, whether it be thanks to the young private’s well earned success or the passing of a few minute’s time.

It only takes a fraction of a second to discount the likelihood of the latter, which means that he is either ecstatic about his home team’s win or, maker help her, he’s found something else with which to amuse himself.

Out of habit more than any hope of actually finding anything amiss, Celestia glances about to see if she can spot a puppet of his nearby. It’s a futile attempt, she is well aware, and there is no subtle way to cast the spell to detect magical signatures, especially with so many experienced mages around. It’s all but guaranteed that the colt would sense it as well; he is, if nothing else, keenly aware of his surroundings at all times, even if for no other reason than to detect an incoming attack.

She makes a mental note to say something about that. Eventually, that is. Bringing the subject up so soon after the attempted foalnapping is far, far more likely to end in an argument than it is to help. No, now is a time to celebrate his hometown team’s victory. Even if his assistance and guidance may have tipped the scales somewhat, Private Charge certainly earned the cheers and adulations being heaped upon her.

She can only hope that the Golden Hills team doesn’t outperform everypony too much or there’s going to be a lot of questions from the media. Suburban regional teams typically struggle to even qualify for the Squads Competition, let alone defeat the metro teams with their larger infrastructure and training budgets.

“A fantastic performance,” she earnestly declares. “I am sure you are quite proud to see a local guardsmare winning the first event.”

“Oh, yeah, definitely!” he exclaims, still clapping for the victor. “Hey, I never thought to ask, what will they get when they win?”

Chuckling warmly at his confidence in the team, she answers, “A certificate and ribbon in recognition of their achievement, as well as a trophy that they get to display at the precinct as long as they are able to keep their position. Naturally, the notation added to their records can only help if or when they seek to promote or apply for an officer’s position.”

He half climbs on his mother’s withers, nodding along as she speaks. “Gotchya… so no week off from work or paid vacation or anything?”

“In a way, they are already getting a week off with pay simply by qualifying. Their room, board, travel, and most of their meals are free, and their immediate family’s travel expenses are reimbursed.”

The colt shrugs his wings and bobs his head in acceptance. “True, I suppose.” He pauses for a moment and looks out over the field before turning back. “Hey, just so you’re not caught off guard by it later, I’ve got a stall I set up with a puppet.”

Celestia closes her eyes and takes a deep breath, bracing whatever craziness is about to be dropped on her withers. Amethyst sees her reaction and begins shaking with laughter, evidently finding great amusement with her princess’s plight.

“It ain’t that bad!” he quickly assures her. “And you!” he growls, reaching his right wing over to poke at his mom’s cheek, “Yer no better! Both ‘a ya actin like I’m some kinda nuisance or something!” The mares share a commiserating look, earning a pouty glare in return.

He folds his forelegs over his chest and huffs in annoyance. “All I did was set up a fertility clinic in town, and before you go worrying about it tying back to me, I’m using the disguise of a zebra shaman - a mare!” he quickly adds, heading off Celestia’s look of alarm, “and pretending to use alchemy and a ritual to do everything in an enclosed wagon.

“And before you ask, yes. I am charging twenty-five bits for most services since askin for nothing would make ponies suspicious.”

Hesitantly, Celestia begins, “I… suppose that is not too bad. A traveling shaman selling their services is not common, but also not unheard of. With that being said, I am sure one doing what you are would garner significant attention, especially since there would be no prior record of her existence.”

“I figured I’d get some attention from them and, possibly, from our own folks as well. That’s another reason I said something. If somepony comes to you with info about ‘Madame Adiah’ then you’ll know the mare doesn’t actually exist.

“Which they very likely will,” she agrees, nodding in understanding.

“How many ponies ya seen so far, colt?”

“Only about ten couples.” Voice laden with exasperation, he explains, “Shock and dismay; not a lot of ponies are willing to roll the dice on an unknown shaman’s unproven treatment, even if it’s pretty cheap. That’s fine,” he says with a resigned sigh, “my plant will become public knowledge soon enough, so there’s always next season. At least, as far as the whole colt thing is concerned.”

Amethyst gives the colt a slow nod in approval. “Not bad at all. Gonna do somethin like that back home too? Don’t need yerself a disguise back in Baltimare. Should be a lot easier ta pull off.”

Cure turns back to the princess and raises a single inquisitive brow. She doesn’t need to mull it over for even a moment before nodding. “As long as you understand they may assume you are responsible for this shaman. Then again, the more likely presumption is that you learned of her activities and decided to duplicate them.”

“Assuming they don’t already know about the plant I have in testing,” he agrees.

“They should have no way of knowing,” she instantly dismisses. “Everypony involved in the testing has agreed to keep it confidential.”

“Uh huh,” he disbelievingly grunts. “Twenty bits says one of those excited dams blurted out something to somepony about how thrilled she is to finally be having a colt.”

The princess grimaces, sagging as she begrudgingly admits, “I… would not be terribly surprised if somepony told their family despite the measures put in place. It is a significant event for those who have tried for years to no avail.” She sucks in a deep breath and sighs, shaking her head. “Regardless, I do appreciate that even during your leisure time you are doing what you can to help our little ponies.”

The colt’s eyes light up for a moment as he opens his mouth. He pauses and leans back, turning to face his mom. “Whatta ya think, ma? Is ‘our little ponies’ close enough? Can I get an official ruling here?”

The mare mulls it over, slowly tilting her head side to side. After a moment’s consideration she reluctantly shakes her head no. “Nah. ‘Sides, colt, havin a mornin pick-me-up is all well ‘n good, but I don’t think anypony needs ta see us enjoyin it this early.”

“Fine,” he sighs, reluctantly acknowledging her point. He turns back and gestures to the princess, pointing back and forth between his eyes and the mare. “I’ve got my eyes on you, lady.” A roll of her eyes is the princess’s only response as she turns back, watching as the Corporal Rank bouts start to get underway.

It’s only about fifteen minutes later that Corporal Ricochet finally gets her turn to step out. The crimson-maned mare rears up and meets Rush in an up-top double hoofbump before cantering energetically around the front of the arenas to get suited up.

Her opponent is an earth pony stallion from Seaddle with coat and mane colors nearly matching Cure’s sire. Lacking his very own Alicorn of Life, the guy is noticeably shorter like Deed once was and lacks the thicker build his moms have come to appreciate so frequently.

The two fighters trade a friendly hoofbump before she teleports herself to just outside the farther arena’s border and trots in. It doesn’t take a lot of magic to teleport such short distances, especially for an adult. It still strikes Cure as a somewhat foolish waste of energy, even if doing so that easily may be a valid method of slightly intimidating the opponent. The main concern he has is that in a contest formatted like this one, unicorns in particular have to try to take it easy when they can.

If a unicorn is forced to expend a lot of magic during a single fight they’ll likely end up losing the next one, no matter how good they are. The math is simply not on their side; earth ponies have near infinite endurance, and pegasi aren’t very far behind on that metric. The quick bouts, one after another with little time to recharge in between, definitely give the other two tribes an advantage over unicorns, who are capable of doing a lot more damage very quickly, but at the cost of needing a moment to recover between fights.

That said, if there is a time to show off then it’s during these earlier rounds. At least she’ll have a little time to recover before her next one, but that won’t be the case in later matches as the number of remaining fighters dwindles.

Equipped with a shield and short spear, the earth pony takes up his place opposite the mare. At the signal to begin she immediately fires off a beam, forcing the stallion to duck behind his shield. He expertly deflects it up and away, launching it into the air at an angle with only a slight grunt of exertion. It splashes harmlessly against the arena’s shields, brightly illuminating the barrier erected to protect spectators from wayward attacks.

The corporal doesn’t stand still when he begins his charge, turning to run towards the corner behind her and on her left. Another beam fires off from her horn over her back, forcing the stallion to raise his shield again. Instead of aiming directly at him, the beam strikes the ground in front of him, blasting him with a spray of grass and dirt and giving her time to gain more distance.

The stallion shakes his head to clear his vision and resumes his charge, quickly closing in on Rico as she turns to her right to try to circle around to his right side. With him in pursuit, she fires another beam over her back. The audience is momentarily perplexed, as the lance is launched up into the air instead of directly at the stallion.

Rico runs a short distance then stops in her tracks, turning to face the still charging guard. She lowers her head with her horn glowing brightly. A thick panel shield appears between the two, halting the stallion’s charge and sending his spear skidding up into the air. Meanwhile, the bolt fired in the air bounces off the arena’s ceiling, banks down against the side barrier, and smashes into his left hind leg. The impact knocks his leg out from underneath him and sends him tumbling into the dirt, leaving his side and belly completely exposed.

Rico doesn’t pass on the opportunity, firing a Stun bolt directly into the inside of the stallion’s back thigh to end the fight. Cure isn’t sure if the aiming was intentional; she may have simply been aiming for the largest unarmored part of the stallion visible, but it sure looked like she just tried to blast him in his crotch. It’s not like the dude was sitting still for her, so she may have just aimed for his barrel and fired away, but it still garners more than a few winces and gasps from the crowd even if he wasn’t actually hit by a real attack.

“Damn, Rico,” he quietly chuckles. “No mercy on the field of battle, huh?”

“A win’s a win, colt.”

“That it is,” he easily agrees. “Still, remind me never to step in a sparring ring with her. I bet every male out here is thinking the same thing, even if it was just an illusion.”

“It ain’t no holiday for a lady, either,” his mom reminds him.

“No, I bet not. Especially with the way a real stun bolt kinda zaps the whole area. Oh well, good win, I say.”

“It was an interesting way to win,” Celestia agrees. “I can only assume at this point that everypony on the Golden Hills team is well versed on using their special talents given that a beam attack should not normally bounce off of the shield walls like that.”

“Maybe,” Cure noncommittally agrees with a shrug, earning a withering stare from the elder alicorn.

“Gettin a little warm on my left side,” Amethyst quietly grouses. She sits up on her rump, bodily picks Cure up, and unceremoniously drops him between herself and the princess. “There. Stare away, yer majesty,” she offers, laying back down on the colt’s right.

Cure pouts at his mom to no effect, though the princess’s baleful gaze is obviously just for show. She seems to be making no effort to disguise the amusement leaking into the air around her.

Passing the warming lube over to the blushing pegasus mare, Madame Adiah assures her, “Yes, my dear, that is absolutely correct. The tingling warmth will help him get,” she leans in closer to whisper, “fully erect,” then stands upright to give the blushing mare room. Still speaking softly, she suggests, “If this is an ongoing concern and you desire a real cure, then have him come by. I’ll resolve it for sure.”

“You… you can?!”

Adiah shrugs and nods her head. “His dysfunction is something I am sure I can heal. Come along with him and you’ll see he can be harder than steel.” Adiah has to stifle a chuckle when the mare’s wings start involuntarily poofing out.

The two are interrupted by a mare running up with a notepad and a pen, calling out, “Pardon me, you are Madame Adiah, correct?” The disguised colt’s stomach sinks when he turns to regard the intruder. A quill is levitating in her aura, a notepad floats by at the ready, and a “Forest Heights Herald” ID hangs from her neck on a lanyard. A unicorn stallion trails behind her with larger saddlebags and a camera floating to his side.

Cure had a few expectations as far as what he might accomplish with his newest identity. Helping some families finally have the son they’ve always prayed for, playing a part in the creation of dozens of lives that may otherwise have never existed, maybe even make a few bits with some of the more cosmetic treatments.

One thing he hadn’t counted on was garnering the attention of the media, especially after only being open for a couple hours. It was probably a little foolish to expect he wouldn’t attract a decent amount of attention. His trek through town turned hundreds of heads, and with so many unicorns from Canterlot coming down to watch the event, somepony sending word back up to the city proper was all but an inevitability. Still, he wouldn’t have been heartbroken if it’d taken a little longer for it to happen.

At least the unicorn isn’t asking for “Kataba Matobo.” Assuming that the vendor permit mare wouldn’t know the Zebrican word for “whore” is one thing, but it’s far more likely that a reporter, or at least somepony she works with, would know the language. Then again, insults aren’t always covered in language classes, so there is a chance that even an advanced non-native speaker would not know its meaning.

Overall, he figures it is unlikely to become an issue; nopony should have a reason to pull the actual vendor permit form unless something happens, and ponies are, generally, far too insular to bother learning another language. Even if they do find out, she can just say that she objects to some of the tribe’s practices.

“I am indeed she,” Adiah responds with a dip of her muzzle, “though I do not recognize who is calling for me.

“Fantastic! I’m Sharp Insight from the Herald!” she says, reaching up to tap her badge with her right fetlock, then offers the hoof out for a bump. “We received a report about your clinic this morning, and I was hoping I could have a word. It’s been years since we’ve had a zebra shaman at the event, and I was hoping we could just ask a few questions about what all you’re offering!”

“To answer your questions would be my pleasure. Feel free to ask away at your leisure.”

“Great! Thank you so much! I’ve never interviewed a real shaman before! So… a fertility clinic? What all can you do?”

“Illnesses, injuries, and deformities of all sorts I can banish away. Helping creatures build families is my special talent, you could say. If there is any issue related to the creation of life, it falls upon me to eliminate that strife.”

Insight bobs her head in understanding as her quill scribbles away at the notepad. “That’s amazing! And as for the services listed here,” she motions to the sandwich board sign, “I see that there’s some… ahem… additional options as well.”

Adiah smiles broadly and bobs her head in a nod. “There certainly are a few extra selections I offer, and it is those that I use to fatten my coffers. For anything that is considered a medical need I accept the bare minimum instead of surrendering to greed.”

“I see. And, if you don’t mind my asking,” she lowers her voice and smiles broadly, leaning closer, “have you had many takers on the less… medically necessary options?” Despite her attempts to sound neutral, it’s not difficult to detect the slight pinking of her cheeks.

“As you can see the price is quite steep. Not many ponies have pockets so deep. I have also only been open a short time, and my location is far from what I would call prime. I am sure that at least a few will try them out, and word will spread, of this I have no doubt. At least, that is what I hope and I pray, as it is those purchases I use to truly earn my pay.”

“Oh? So you aren’t actually making any money off of fertility related services?”

Shaking her head no, Adiah explains, “I charge only the small amount that I must, as not charging at all may stifle others’ trust.”

“I don’t suppose you would be allowed to tell us what kind of ingredients go into your creations, would you?”

“Unfortunately not, my young reporter friend. To share such secrets would lead to my end. Shaman secrets are guarded more than a dragon’s own hoard. Disclose too much and end up stiff as a board.”

Wide-eyed, the mare almost hesitantly asks, “They would kill to keep the recipe secret?!”

Adiah laughs fondly and nods, explaining, “Of course they would, you sweet innocent mare. Do you think that nozebra has ever wanted to share?”

“Right, but to think they would… you know,” she says with a wince, tracing a hoof across her own neck.

“Those with power do what they must,” Adiah disagrees with a shrug. “I’m sure they think their actions are just. Regardless of that mess, I believe we have strayed. Politics are complex, so let’s focus on my trade.”

“Right! Of course! So one of your services is gender selection. How, exactly, does that work?”

“For the sex of a foal the stallion is key, so to convey desired results it is him I must see. Though the exact method must not be explained, the female seeds he carries must be contained. If the seeds of the fillies are simply ruled out, then only a colt could possibly come about.”

“So… it’s not so much that you’re increasing the chances of a colt directly, but instead just removing the chances of a filly?”

“Precisely.”

“I’m sure you’ve had a few ponies that are a little doubtful. What do have to say to any would-be detractors?”

Adiah pans her gaze to the camerapony stallion who has been taking pictures occasionally during the interview. With a wicked smile she turns back to the mare, “I have a suggestion that may dispel any such doubt, but I am not sure if you’ll care to hear me out.”

Insight gives the smiling zebra a cautious look. “Ohhkaay? What do you have in mind?”

“I understand that a ratio testing kit can be easily obtained. I will demonstrate my ritual on him,” she says, pointing to the camerapony, “so the truth can be ascertained.” Several of the ponies nearby browsing her wares or simply watching the interview look on with interest at the suddenly blushing stallion. “Take this stallion and be on your way. Test him once and return later in the day. I will perform my ritual on him, then you need only test it again. I’ll do this for free with only a small request; that you include in your article the results of the test.”

Two pegasi mares trade a flurry of blows with each other in the air, much to the amazement and glee of the watching audience. The speed and agility that the two are displaying, while not nearly as refined as what Cure witnessed during the Wonderbolts show, is leagues above anything he saw during the prior set of matches.

“I can’t help but notice that there’s a pretty significant divide between the privates and the corporals in their fighting proficiency,” he idly comments. “I’m pretty sure that if Solar were here he would… Well,” he pauses, “I’m not sure he would get completely wrecked, but if he won it would be much more of a result of his changes than his ability. For now.”

Celestia merely bobs her head, fully focused instead on the martial display. “Which is exactly why the ranks do not have to face off against each other. You should expect a similar, or perhaps even more stark, increase in aptitude amongst the sergeants, lieutenants, and even captains. Years of service and experience alone have taught them well, and they have had far more opportunity to take advanced classes that the younger guards have not.

“I am sure that by the end of his time at Maelstrom, Cpl. Strike will be every bit as capable as anypony else at his rank. Possibly quite a bit more, given his … gifts.”

“True,” he concedes, “he was pretty excited about the facilities there. I’m sure with a bit of experience he’ll be an absolute monster. Especially if he uses all the venoms.”

Celestia idly nods in agreement, then goes stock still. “Venoms?!” she hisses, turning to stare in abject horror. “You gave him venom glands?!”

“Duh? Quite a few, in fact. His teeth, the deployable barbs on his hooves, uhh… other places.”

“Other places?” the mare echoes overtop Amethyst’s guffaw. Sighing in resignation, she begs, “Please tell me you did not give him the ability to… to… urinate venom.”

“What?! Of course not! Sweet maker above, lady,” he cries with a cringe, “can you imagine how much that would burn coming out?!”

Celestia’s whole body shudders at the suggestion and she violently shakes her head no. “I cannot, nor would I ever want to know.”

“Exactly. I mean, I could make it so you don’t feel it, I guess, but as a delivery mechanism I kinda feel like if you’re in a position to use that then there’s better ways to go about incapacitating somepony. Less humiliating too.” Belated he rushes to add, “For them, that is. Though I guess it probably wouldn’t seem proper for, by all appearances, ‘his highness’ to be takin a leak on somepony. Regardless, no, I did not add a venom gland to that particular piece of plumbing, even if it wouldn’t have been too difficult.”

“I am relieved to -”

“It’s in his butt.”

Amethyst absolutely cracks up, burying her face under her forelegs to muffle her laughter.

“... excuse me?!”

“What? You saw how effective rear-firing weapons can be. They work great on both princesses and light mechs. Stupid pulse laser Flea bastards,” he growls, shaking his hoof angrily in the air. Celestia subtly scoots a hoofspan to her left. “Anyhow, there’s already a pretty effective gas dispersal system already in place back there, so if ya just pop a silencer on that blaster and let it rip and you’ve got yourself a real crowd pleaser.”

Seemingly of its own volition, Celestia’s left forehoof comes up and presses against her forehead.

Amethyst chimes in between laughs, saying, “He’s just messin with ya, princess. He didn’t give that colt any kinda ass-gas… gas-ass… whatever kinda thing,” she finishes, waving her hoof airily. “Mind ya, the colt did suggest it, but Solar refused ‘cause he figured somepony, somewhere would demand he demonstrate how it works.” She chuckles and adds, “Reckon that would be a heckuva sight on one of them firin lanes at the castle.”

Cure snickers quietly, shaking in laughter. A large white wing comes down on his back, smushing him into the cushioned surface for a moment. More than a few heads in the crowd turn to regard the royals, many of them smiling fondly at the relatively tiny brown limbs flailing about trying to escape the feathery blanket. Others meanwhile simply watch on with envy, wishing for nothing more than to trade places with the fortunate foal.

After a moment of smothering the brat, she finally releases him from his supposed prison. She lifts her wing, immediately noting how heavy it seems. The colt, to her dismay yet begrudging amusement, dangles from the underside of her wing, his own spread and tightly fastened to her much larger appendage. Sighing in exasperation, she gives the wing a couple hard flaps, struggling to maintain her stoicism when his legs, heck, and head bounce limply underneath him.

“What. Are. You. Doing?!” she quietly growls.

“Just hanging around,” he flatly responds. He can’t help but laugh at the deadpan she shoots back. “C’mon, really? How could I possibly give you any other answer?”

The princess rolls her eyes and ignites her horn, teleporting him only a meter from the bottom of her wing to between her forelegs, then squeezes him in a hug against her chest. Cure silently wishes she would take off her regalia, but has gotten used to putting up with it pressing into his rump when she snuggles on him like this. Even with the warmed metal being somewhat uncomfortable, the colt is perfectly content getting himself some princess snuggles. “At least try to behave yourself. Please?”

“You started it,” he snarks, draping his wings over the outside of her forelegs as he settles down. Legs folded under himself, he rests his chin on her fetlocks and focuses back on the matches as the organizers summon the next batch of contestants over. Cure perks up when he sees Ricochet clap her hooves before taking off. She had won her last three matches by turning the entire field into an impromptu air hockey table, bouncing shots off multiple walls to hit her target from odd angles.

Her opponent is a griffon; one of the very few participating in the competition. It’s a shame to see the crowd’s reaction to it being his turn. Even if there’s no blood thanks to the illusions, his fearsome, relatively brutal method of attack seems to strike fear in their pathetic prey minds. It doesn’t escape the colt’s notice that nopony flinches when a sword or dagger hit lands, but a lunging predator causes the masses a great deal of unease.

The dark gray tom smiles broadly when called out, then spreads his wings and shoots up in an arc to land just a few meters away from the engineering team, beating Ricochet there by a few seconds. Despite the lukewarm reaction from the crowd, he stands proudly in his gleaming gold armor with his wings held high and at the ready, offering a respectful incline of his head to his opponent.

Rico returns it with an acknowledging nod before turning to the weapon racks. She floats a set of six darts over and affixes them to the armor on either side of her barrel. The tom takes a moment while the current match wraps up to look over the selection, finally settling on a small buckler and his own claws. He straps the shield on his left foreleg, fixing it in place just below his knee.

“I was under the impression that darts had to be bound to the unicorn for them to use them properly.”

Celestia tilts her head left and right in a ‘kind of’ motion. “It does help to strengthen one’s grip, but the primary purpose is to prevent an opposing unicorn from simply using their own levitation to take control of the weapons. It is not a concern here due to the illusory nature of the opposition.”

“Ah. Gotcha. Maybe someday you can show me your fancy weapon collection. I’m sure you’ve collected some neat stuff over the years.”

“I have not intended to collect them, per se, but I suppose I do have a rather significant count stored away in my many vaults. I have not commissioned a weapon for myself in over a millennium, and while I have been gifted a few unique items over the years, I much prefer unique pieces art or literature. Or even delicious apple-like treats,” she adds, giving him a light squeeze.

“Or fancy clothes,” he teasingly chirps.

A snort blasts out her snout before she can hold it back. “I have been gifted more clothes than any ten families likely own. While most are of a more practical nature, the… outfit from Ambassador Ahmad’s wives is certainly not the most eye-catching I have received.”

The two pause their conversation as Rico and the griffon square off in their arenas. Both explode into action at the signal to begin; her launching to her right to gain distance and him blasting forward with a mighty flap of his wings. He closes the distance far faster than she could possibly hope to evade him, even while dodging the beams she sends both in his direction and forward against the wall to bounce back.

The way he sinks his claws in the ground and nearly throws himself to one side or the other makes it almost impossible for Rico to land a hit. Knowing he is herding her into the corner, she whips around and pulls two darts off of her side. She launches one at either of his sides and fires a beam right down the middle in an attempt to box him in. He dives to his right and slaps the dart out of the air with his shield, then ducks down under a third dart launched from her left.

Close enough to pounce, he gives his wings a single flap, propelling him at Rico in a lightning rush. She rears up and meets his right claws with an armored boot, then takes a swing at his face with her right. He leans to the side, dodging the blow and lashes out, attempting to bite at her right pastern. Though her shin guard prevents any real damage, he wrenches his neck up, locking down both her forelegs and pulling them away from her barrel.

His wings shoot out and he gives a powerful flap, pulling her further off balance and throwing her to the ground. She lands hard on her barrel and immediately rolls to her left, igniting her horn and lashing out in a sustained blast. The tom has no chance to dodge, but gets his shield up in time to deflect the beam, leaving furrows in the ground where his hind claws dig up the earth as he’s pushed back.

Rico keeps the beam up long enough to get her hooves back under her, scurrying away as quickly as she can. He pounces again when the beam finally cuts off. Sensing his approach from behind, she kicks back in a powerful buck. Wary of tackling a pony from directly behind, he had aimed slightly to her right. Though he avoids catching a hoof to the face, her right leg still clips his left wing, lighting those sensors up in red and disabling the limb.

Normally the pain of that injury would buy her some space, but with the safety mechanism in place he isn’t actually hurt, only artificially limited in motion. She doesn’t get more than a couple meters away before he catches up, tackling her and sending them tumbling in a pile of limbs. Once on the ground the two roll all around for a moment striking and kicking at each other as hard as the limited space allows. One of his hind claws finally catches a gap in her armor, peeling a plate open enough that the next kick lands true and ends the match in an eviscerating hit, dispeling both illusions in a cloud of sparkling motes.

“Ah fudge,” Cure halfheartedly pouts. “I mean, third… fourth place? Not bad, all things considered, but I was still rootin for her, ya know?”

“Third and fourth are awarded the same points for her team, so she placed third, effectively,” Celestia explains. “Still, to place at all in such a large event is a momentous honor that any squad would be exceptionally proud of.”

“Plus she went hoof ta claw with a griffon and did alright. That ain’t somethin most unicorns are willin ta even try.”

“With good reason, obviously,” he argues, motioning to the field with his muzzle. “Honestly if I were Bulwark, I would’ve had Static go instead of Rico. Not ‘cause she didn’t do great or anything, but pegasi and earth ponies benefit a lot more from the exercises I had ‘em doing than a unicorn would.”

Amethyst shrugs and points out, “Maybe she beat him in their spars or somethin. Reckon she earned the chance somehow. ‘Sides, like ya said, ain’t nothin wrong with third place, especially with Rush winning earlier. Golden Hills is sittin pretty right outta the gate.”

“True enough,” Cure agrees with a nod, “and that doesn’t even factor this afternoon’s events. By the end of the day I’m sure they’ll be in first place, and if the rest of the events are mostly physical then I doubt anypony else will even come close.”

That evening

Celestia had no more than settled down on her cushion when the dining room door slowly cracked open. Cure and Amethyst strolled through a moment later, both looking slightly worn from lying outside in the warm sun all day without taking a nap. She reaches down to wrap her left wing around him when he rears up to hug her side and offers a greeting to his mother who all but collapses on a cushion to her right.

“So,” she begins, waiting for both to settle in their seats, “how did your team fare in the afternoon events? Did they do as well as you predicted?”

Amethyst’s derisive scoff all but answers the question, but that doesn’t stop Cure from nodding and beginning a recount of the later events. “Yeah,” he mirthlessly chuckles, “you could say that. Haze did not hold back one iota during his event -”

“None of ‘em did,” his mom interrupts.

Both pause as tall glasses of ice water are set before them, shooting grateful nods to her staff. Cure only takes a small sip while Amethyst drains the entire thing in one go.

“Right. I’m pretty sure he stood out the most though. A random medic absolutely smoking a bunch of combat mages in casting speed seems a bit more unusual than three tall, but normal-sized earth ponies beating out Vanhoofer’s finest, even if it was very close.”

“I reckon so,” his mom easily agrees. “At least with them you can see they’re built, but Haze? I don’t think anypony saw that comin.”

“I am afraid I do not understand,” Celestia interrupts. “Aside from Sergeant Haze’s peak condition, what could have given him an advantage during the casting event?”

“Colt gave ‘em a super horn,” Amethyst says with a snort.

“A… super horn?” she confusedly asks. “I did not notice anything unusual about it, not that I was paying any special attention.”

“It’s all in the nerves and muscles,” the colt summarizes. “Think about it like this; if everything here,” he points a hoof down at the ground, “is how I would expect, mammals have been around for a couple hundred millions of years. Ponies probably showed up in the last few dozen million, though, and I couldn’t guess when the first horns started popping up. Let’s just say ten million for argument’s sake, alright?”

“I honestly have no idea how accurate that may be,” Celestia confesses. “Virtually all of the information from more than a few thousand years ago was lost during the great migration, and the lands of present day Equestria were never visited by ponykind prior. As far as we know, I suppose.”

“Interesting,” he idly comments, bobbing his head in understanding. “Either way, if unicorns as we know them have existed for even twenty million years and, again, ancient history isn’t totally different than what I recall, then bugs have been around something like fifteen to twenty times as long. Also, their generations only last a month or so, so for every generation of ponies they have something like a hundred generations for some kind of quirk or genetic mutation to show up, right?”

“Approximately,” she agrees with a nod.

“So you have a hundred times more opportunities for improvement in the same time and you have, at a minimum, twenty times as much time itself then at least two thousand times as many opportunities for a better bug to come into existence than a better pony.

“Granted things like magic and genetic stability are potential factors, but bottom line? Improved traits spread amongst bugs like lightning compared to how long it takes ponies to adapt. So the ‘super horn,’ if you want to call it that,” he huffs, rolling his eyes at his mom, “uses the very best of the best that I’ve encountered to quickly and smoothly hit the proper vibrations necessary for runic casting almost without the unicorn having to consciously do anything but maintain the proper flow of magic and empower the spell itself.”

Celestia’s eyes slowly drift up to the colt’s own horn as she takes in this information. “So your proficiency with casting is due in part to the superior musculature and nervous system upgrades you have given yourself.”

“And my eidetic cheating memory, yes.”

Conversation halts when the staff appear again, refilling Amethyst’s glass and leaving a pitcher behind and delivering three large salads to the group.

“I had not noticed you being that much quicker,” she confesses upon everypony’s departure. “In fact, I was able to easily counter your teleportation just last week.” His incredulous expression gives her all the explanation she needs. “You intentionally go slower than you can so as to be underestimated.”

The colt shrugs his wings and nods again. “That and so it doesn’t draw too much attention.” Huffing in annoyance, he adds, “Unlike some ponies, I have some freakin sense.”

“Just how much of a difference does it make?” she inquires.

The colt’s horn seemingly vibrates in a single powerful pulse, Teleporting him from his cushion to the far end of the table in a small flash of light. Another nearly instantaneous casting brings him back not even a half second later, leaving the princess staring in shock at the display. “That… was very quick,” she flatly observes. “Is that what Sergeant Haze demonstrated this afternoon?”

“Not quite,” he answers, shaking his head. “I only gave him that upgrade a little over two weeks ago. He’s still learning to adjust the flow of his magic to the improved speed. He was maybe twice as fast as anypony else, but between him, Song, Bulwark, Rush, and Static, I wouldn’t be surprised if Colonel Mayday hasn’t launched some kind of investigation to figure out if they’re juicing or something.”

Celestia blinks a few times and tilts her head at the unfamiliar term. “Juicing?”

“On some kind of performance enhancing drug. Between alchemy and just good ol’ fashioned chemistry I bet something exists that could explain their sudden improvement.”

“There are, indeed, but as Major Faheem pointed out, those are typically short lived with significant downsides. If he does then I assume magical scans and blood tests would show no abnormalities, correct?”

“Yep. They’ll come across as perfectly healthy, that’s all. I haven’t even worked with them in months, so if they had any tests done earlier in the year then the results should be about the same.”

“Then there is no need for concern aside from the extra attention their performance will draw.”

“Which can be explained by the training they received by that dashing young colt that is currently at home in Golden Hills and definitely not present in Canterlot at the moment,” he insists with a firm nod.

Celestia stares at him incredulously for a moment before gently coughing into her fetlock. “Yes. Dashing. Other words certainly come to mind, but we will go with that for now.” Despite the clear derision in her voice, Cure smiles broadly and wiggles happily in his seat. “I am to presume that Sergeant Song and Corporal Arc performed well in the aerial races as well?”

“Yeah, but it wasn’t a blowout like the others,” he replies.

“They didn’t take first,” Amethyst elaborates. “Third and fifth went ta Song and Static. A couple a’ pegasi with speed talents took first ‘n second, and some hippogriff stallion took fourth. That same griffon what came in second durin the fights was hot on Static’s tail, too.”

Celestia hums in thought for a moment. “An exceptional performance for one so young. Perhaps I should look into exploring what options he has been presented with.”

“Wouldn’t be a bad idea,” Cure easily agrees. “I can’t imagine there’s a lot of griffons higher up in the guard’s command structure. Every single colonel, general, and so forth I met with was a pony, after all.”

Celestia sighs but shakes her head no. “Unfortunately, there is always the question of where another race’s loyalties may lie. I try not to directly involve myself in the way the guard is organized, but I do occasionally remind everypony that simply because somecreature is not a pony does not mean they have any special love for their race’s nation of origin.”

“Well I hate to sound like a bigot, but that might be for the best with the zebras, at least. Maybe in a few years if none of them try anything else I’ll be more trusting, but for now…” he drifts off shaking his head.

“Understandable,” the princess concedes. “Speaking of which, how is your latest business venture faring?”

“Sweet Harmony!” the colt cries in exasperation, laying heavily against the table. “You would not believe how much she’s getting flirted with! Ponies may not be one hundred percent comfortable with zebras, but they damn sure don’t seem to have any problem making passes at one! Especially the friggin earth ponies!”

“Oh?”

“Oh yeah, totally! I don’t even get it! As best I can tell it takes approximately zero effort for a dude that’s in the mood to get some action right now, but something like eighty percent of stallions that approach her are tryin to be all smooth and sh… stuff. It’s freaking annoying!” He looks across the table at his mom and asks, “Do you get hit on a lot when you’re out without dad around?”

The mare wobbles a hoof in the air and begrudgingly nods to the affirmative. “Not a lot a lot, but… yeah. Every since ya whipped Lemon ‘n me inta shape we’ve noticed a few extra heads turnin when we walk by.” She buffs a hoof on her chest and brags, “Yer sire’s lucky he locked us down when he did.”

“Huh. I guess I’m not usually out with the two of you when dad’s not around too.” He tilts his head to the side in thought. “I don’t think I’ve seen many stallions flirting with Lemon at the shop, but I feel like somewhere around ninety-five percent of her customers are foals and mares, so… yeah.”

“And yer focusin on yer own customers when yer there.”

“Yeah, but I can hear through the floor easily. When I’m not in a Sound Bubble, at least. Either way,” he continues, turning back to the princess, “so aside from the damn near constant flirting everything is going really well. I had a reporter stop by this morning from the Forest Heights Herald and she asked a few questions. I gave her a demonstration of what I can do, so I expect a story to show up in the paper tomorrow. The only question I have is should Madame Adiah eventually run out of ‘supplies’ or should I just keep hoofing out colts left and right like they’re going out of style.”

“The latter,” Celestia instantly replies. “Even if every single foal born next July is a colt instead of a filly it would still not come close to evening out the gender ratio. Approximately how many couples have you seen thus far?”

“Fifty seven and there’s a dozen that have taken numbers saying they’re coming back once I get my line down. It kinda took off after the day’s events were over. Word has spread by now for sure.” He turns to his mom and nearly bounces in his seat, “I’ve also made almost thirty thousand bits on upgrades to both stallions and mares! I’m thinkin Madame Adiah is gonna start renting a weekly stall in Fillydelphia if this keeps up.”

Amethyst whistles in appreciation. “Not bad, colt. Hope yer not chargin mares too much, though. Them upgrades’ll do wonders fer foalbirth.”

Cure dismisses the concern with an airy wave of his hoof. “I’m only charging them a hundred and fifty bits. Dudes are paying ten times that much and they’re friggin thrilled to do so. Except one guy I saw earlier; poor bastard had a legitimate micropenis.”

Celestia’s fork halts in midair as she stares at the short carrot stick impaled on its prongs. A barked laugh escapes Amethyst as she takes in the scene and the colt soon follows suit, covering his mouth with his pastern as he does his best not to shoot spinach all over the table.

“Sorry, boss,” he finally manages. “But seriously, I felt so bad for the dude that I didn’t charge him a single bit. I’ve had my fair share of criers when patchin folks up, but this one utterly lost his stuff after I performed my ‘ritual’ on him. I can’t say I blame him, either. It would be one thing if ponies wore pants, but in a society where everything’s just kinda, ya know,” he rolls the hoof he’s holding his fork with, “out there it’s gotta be like a billion times worse.

“Thankfully unicorns have a little extra fluff on him, so there was no shortage of mass to rearrange, but still… It took almost fifteen minutes of consoling him before I was able to get him out of the shop. Same with the chick that was infertile due to an ovarian torsion when she was younger. I flat out asked why she hadn’t seen the new prince yet and she said she felt greedy asking to take up some of his highness’s time.

“What do you think?” he begins, turning to face the princess. “Do you think ponies would buy it if I set up some kind of independent one-room shed or something that ponies could walk in and get whatever they need fixed? They wouldn’t feel like they’re imposing on my time that way. I was thinkin I could make some big show out of coming by and ‘recharging’ it every day to explain why I can’t distribute them all over the country.”

“I… suspect most ponies would accept the explanation,” Celestia slowly begins. “However, you must also consider what impact such a thing would have on the ponies working at Baltimare Hospital. Also, what about when you are sleeping or too far away for your rings to reach?”

“Hrm. Maybe at some point in the future, then.”

“Perhaps. Even in the future you must take care not to make the health professionals in your hometown completely redundant. There will inevitably be times when you are not available such as when attending school here. If staff depart for other areas where they feel as if they will be more useful, it would strain the Baltimare Regional Health Authority to import ponies capable of providing adequate care.”

The colt exaggerates a pouty face but doesn’t disagree. “Well… it’s something maybe I can explore at some point. Maybe. Until I have full-blown healing pods working or that anti-aging thing passes muster, at least.”

“Which will not happen for quite some time, unfortunately. I believe Director Storm and her team are still exploring how they can even begin to see if it works as intended. It may be that pony trials are the only option once the obvious potential side effects are dismissed, but I do not anticipate them being prepared to make such a decision anytime in the near future.”

“Understandable. Frankly, without my talent to run simulations I’m not sure how I would even test it.”

“I am confident they will figure it out eventually. Or, at the very least, they may request your assistance testing it when you are in the city on a more long term basis.” The princess gives a noncommittal shrug, saying, “We shall only have to wait and see what they can come up with.”

Author's Note

So the Golden Hills gang is kicking some serious ass so far. That's not surprising to anyone; they got essentially a decade or so worth of physical training in a six month span when they were working with Cure, giving most of them a ludicrously unfair advantage over other teams. They've also gotten bits and pieces of knowledge other ponies wouldn't have been exposed to thanks to him.

Of course, being at peak physical condition is not the only factor to winning some challenges. There will, inevitably, be ponies like Rainbow Dash that, even if another pony is an exceptionally fast flyer, they will simply not be capable of beating someone that is not only also in great shape, but also has a talent specifically aimed at going fast.

Madame Adiah is also doing very well for herself. That's not surprising given what she's offering. I'm not sure that I'll keep her around as a permanent personality, but at the very least it is an interesting way for Cure to provide a line of services that almost no one would be willing to approach a foal for.

Celestia is more or less perfectly fine with the idea, which may strike a few folks as odd. Keep in mind, though - Cure is the Alicorn of Life, which is a literal sacred duty bestowed upon him by a higher power. At least, in her eyes it is. Unless he's doing something "blasphemous" with the ability, she will support and encourage him to use his talent to help ponies as best she can.

As always, thanks for reading, rating, and especially commenting. Also, thanks for the patience and understanding lately. I know I've not been posting as many or as long of chapters as I had been, but it's been a pretty busy time at work for me these last few months. I've had several large projects get dumped on me that I didn't anticipate and another is just on the horizon for when I finish what I'm working on now. It's great for making the day go fast, but I'm also so mentally exhausted after my shift that I just can't focus enough to even speak coherently, let alone write worth a damn.

As always, real life must come first, so the story has suffered as a result even if that is a bummer. I am unsure if I will have a chapter ready for next week, so if I do then count it as a lucky win for both you and me. Either way I'll pop in and either give you all an update or post the chapter itself.

Enjoy!

Chapter 113: Scent of Wo- Mare

Wednesday, September 9th, 909 AB (the next day)
Shortly before sunrise

Head resting on the inside of his mother’s right thigh, Cure slowly comes to wakefulness earlier than he would prefer. With Amethyst’s left foreleg looped under his and holding him gently to her soft warm tummy, he spends a long moment considering whether to get up or close his eyes and get another few minutes rest.

Finally he decides that today will be the day; a momentous occasion that the boss lady will remember for all eternity. For what may be the first time in her incredibly long life, Princess Celestia will get to experience the magical, salty bliss that is bacon. Fortunately there’s no need to leave his mother’s warm embrace. After a quick check of his clinic and Madame Adiah’s slumbering form, he Teleports a second Serpentus into his bedroom. Once royally outfitted, the puppet fires off a crisp salute for his own amusement before turning and darting out through his chamber doors.

“Mornin, ladies,” he greets the two bats with a nod. “I’m gonna go make the boss lady a very special breakfast.” He leans in close, holds a hoof to muzzle, and conspiratorial whispers to the bats, “If you two can keep a secret I’m happy to bribe you with a treat, too, but you can’t tell anypony about it just yet.”

The mares share a look and salute in response.

“Awesome! Let’s head to the kitchens!” he cheers before turning to leave. He pauses after only a second and looks back over his withers. “Actually, step a little closer and we’ll teleport there. It’s just about time for the sun to come up.” The mares trade a slightly more uneasy look before reluctantly stepping closer. “Don’t worry,” he reassures them, “I do this all the time. I could teleport you across the city in a couple jumps with no problem.”

The two steel themselves as his horn begins glowing, and all three flash back into existence just outside the kitchen and startle a passing patrol. Cure gives them a quick wing wave as he ducks through the doors to get started.

For possibly the thousandth time since last September, Cure can’t help but marvel at how utterly insanely simple magic makes every mundane thing. A Warming cantrip cuts preheating pans - or the oven, for that matter - to only a few seconds, while Cleaning instantly restores everything to immaculate perfection. With a fair amount of practice and control, Cure is sure he’ll be able to cook using only his aura just like the princess had shown just after his ascension.

Combined with his ability to teleport pre-made and mixed ingredients in from his clinic (simply extruding them was not an option with so many eyes on him), it only takes twenty minutes to, in his humble opinion, whip up four of the greatest omelets that ponykind has ever seen.

Peppers and onions diced small enough to taste, but not large enough to be a distraction on the tongue. The layer of eggs, garnished with small bites of spinach, is perhaps slightly thicker and a little more dense than some may prefer, but Cure, and Ed, always preferred a bit more substance as opposed to overly airy, fluffed up nothingness that some ponies make.

A thin layer of cheddar graces the center of three, mixed with a different meat for Celestia to try; sausage, ham, and the blessed sacred bacon. The fourth, in case she is adamantly opposed to trying faux meat, is a mixture of cheddar and mozzarella with lightly salted mushrooms sautéed in butter.

As befits Her Majesty’s station, Cure doesn’t simply toss everything on paper plates and grab some plasticware and a roll of paper towels. Instead, with some assistance from the cooing, giggling kitchen staff, the four dishes are arranged on a fancy enchanted platter that will somehow magically make them stay fresh like they just came right out of the pan. A set of gold-clad silverware is set to the side along with a small plate of pastries and a few slices of an oaty, nutty toast with an assortment of jellies and jams.

Wings held out level to maintain perfect balance on the, relatively speaking, oversized service, he and his guards Teleport back to the Royal Wing where the princess’s door is all but thrown open upon his approach. It strikes him as mildly amusing and, perhaps, slightly worrying how eager everypony is for him to get old enough just so he can knock up the boss.

Overall, it’s an extremely odd situation; from his memories, what they are allowing, perhaps even encouraging, to happen is dangerously close to some kind of grooming. At the same time, the fact that he has those memories at all completely changes the situation for a number of reasons.

First, there’s absolutely no need to coerce him to eventually do what he must. While he knows nopony truly has a right to use his body as they see fit, there’s not a single living soul he feels has more earned a chance to be a dam than she has.

Second, human societal norms, while useful at times to keep in mind, are not always going to be a good source from which to make decisions. Pony society, as it is at the moment, considers it the obligation of the male to do what is required to bring about the next generation; going so far as to somewhat pressure adults to have foals even if they are not heterosexual. That will likely change when his colt-producing products become available, but not likely for at least a decade or two until colt population numbers start to catch up with fillies.

Finally, while he loathes the idea of looking at mares as some kind of conquest, he can’t deny that in the very idea alone of giving a thousand-plus year old immortal the greatest night of her life tickles some animalistic hunger lurking in the dark recesses of his predator mind. It’s not something he’s proud of, but then again, most folks don’t go around bragging about their own fetishes.

Except for mares when they think there’s no stallions or foals nearby. They make it seem almost like a competition.

He no more than steps through the door when he slams snout-first into a rich bouquet of pungent, acidic, yet intensely alluring scents. The colt’s jaw falls open and he blinks his eyes several times, then shudders from snout to tail both in his puppet and within Amethyst’s grasp. A quick application of his talent disables the olfactory nerves, blocking the scent and allowing him to think with a clear head.

He briefly wonders if it would be less embarrassing for her if he were to make a hasty retreat or play it off as if nothing is amiss. Unfortunately or not, entirely too many ponies are very much aware of his plans, so there is no longer any way out but through.

It shouldn’t be a big deal; estrus in and if itself isn’t something most find embarrassing. Save some edge cases with fertility issues (for now), every mare goes through it at least every year, and usually twice. It’s not like human cultures that, for whatever reason, associated the act of menstruation with some kind of sinful behavior.

Still…

Somehow it makes the colt feel more than a little awkward. Part of it is definitely that he has, granted, with the most innocent and pure of intentions, invaded her most sacred and private sanctum. She has never objected in the past, though he has always shown all due respect for the trust she has given, but if she knew that her body might decide to send a certain signal, she may have amended his otherwise blanket permissions, reasonably, for the remainder of his visit.

Unto the breach, you coward, he silently admonishes himself.

Silently crossing the dimly lit room, Cure finds Celestia lying diagonally across the Princess sized bed on her right side, hind legs stretched back and hooves dangling off the edge of the bed. The mare’s left wing is partially unfurled, covering most of her barrel as her sides slowly rise and fall with her deep breaths. Her forelegs are folded up almost daintily against her chest, and one of her pillows is turned to run the length of her neck with one side folded under to lift up her head.

He extends his own wing to block the light from Teleporting in an adequately enormous mug of rich, dark black tea and lifts both it and the platter in his aura. Removing the lid, he moves closer to the top of the bed and floats both offerings to his liege just a few hooves from her snout.

“Oohhh Tiiii~aaaaah! Rise and shine, my not-so-little pony,” he croons in an overly high pitch. “It’s almost time to raise the sun and your favorite brilliant, hilarious, and supremely helpful colt in the whole wide world has made a very special breakfast for his most favorite-est alicorn on all of Equus!”

Cure has to stifle a giggle when the mare’s nostrils begin flaring, eagerly drinking in the scent of the meal he prepared. She begins moving slightly as she stirs, first kind of shuffle-scooting closer and reaching out with her forelegs towards the tray, forcing Cure to move it away slightly so she doesn’t accidentally knock it over. He figures the aroma must be mightily enticing; it’s only a few seconds after uncovering the tray that her tongue darts out and, somewhat tantalizingly, licks across her lips. He surrenders his attempts to hold back his laugh, snickering and snorting loudly enough to finally bring her out of her daze.

A single magenta eye cracks open, instantly homing in on the spread floating in a chocolatey brown aura. “Cure?” she drowsily asks, peeking over to the horn that barely pokes up above her mattress. “You made me breakfast?”

He rears up, leaning on the side of the bed with his left forehoof so he can look her in her eye. “Of course I made ya breakfast! I figure if somepony has to put up with my shenanigans, the least they deserve is a belly full of something tasty while they’re doing so. Now, I know what you’re thinking,” he insists, holding his hoof up to forestall any argument. In her own voice he exclaims, “But simply having you around to brighten my day is all that I could ever hope for, Cure Wave!”

“And I know,” he continues in his own voice, nodding sagely in agreement, “my presence alone more than makes up any…” he hesitates, rolling his right hoof in the air, “unfortunateness that might coincidentally occur in my general proximity,” he narrows his eyes suspiciously when she snorts, “but! But, still, despite you clearly being the more beneficerous party-”

“That is not a word.”

“It is now!” he boldly declares, hoof thrust into the air. “Anyhow, despite that, it is my obligation… nay, my duty,” he espouses, hoof held to his puffed up chest, “to ensure that, regardless of my complete and total innocence-”

“Maker help me…”

“- that I go above and beyond to take exceptional care of one of the top ten - fifteen, max - most important mares in my life, up to and including that she not miss out on any of the wondrous delicacies that this fine world has to offer!”

Drawing a deep breath and overtly rolling her eyes, Celestia rotates her front half to lay more on her barrel. “Presumably, then, these… omelets?”

“Yep. Omelets.”

She nods, continuing, “are made with some kind of meat?”

“Sort of. Fake meat. And only three of them. That one,” he lifts the plate slightly with his horn, “has mushrooms in it in case you really didn’t want to try the meat ones. The other three are all a variety of artificial-” he cuts off at her upheld hoof, cocking a brow in question.

“I,” she hesitantly begins, “am willing to try them, but I would prefer not to know exactly what it is I am eating.”

“Sure, but, again, you’re eating a plant, boss. The proteins, carbs, and other minerals and whatnot are all just an approximation of what is in meat. Honestly, mushrooms, depending on what kind and how you cook them, taste an awful lot like… well,” he hesitates now, wrinkling his snout in thought, “ehh, I won’t tell you what kind of creature, but… yeah. Mushrooms can taste a lot like their meat. They even have the same kind of chewy texture, even if they’re a little more tender. Assuming you haven’t cooked them wrong, that is. In fact, it’s not uncommon for a big portobello to be substituted in for meat on a sandwich.”

Celestia’s snout crinkles at the comparison, prompting the colt to hurry and move on. “Look, like I said last time, I’m not gonna insist ya try ‘em, but so far almost everypony that has tasted the stuff likes it pretty well. I think you’ll be pleasantly surprised. How ‘bout we start with my favorite, hmm?” he asks. He slides the platter on the nightstand and, under her watchful gaze, cuts, for her, a relatively small bite out of the center of the bacon omelet.

Celestia smiles faintly as the small foal lifts the food-filled fork up in offering. It’s cute and adorable the way his tail swishes happily, shifting his booty from side to side as he watches on in eager excitement. Truthfully, the idea of trying the food is not at all unappealing; the smell alone is intoxicating enough that she would have been fine digging right in without question, but seeing how he’s almost dancing with glee having “convinced” her to try it tells her she made the right choice.

Leaning forward, she gingerly bites down and withdraws, humming and tilting her head in consideration as she explores every flavor the morsel offers up. The only sign of anything meat-like is the occasionally tougher squares of some kind of salty, chewy flavor. Truthfully, the mushroom comparison he gave is fairly apt; the rich, savory flavor is not nearly as unique as she had expected.

“Mmmmmm,” she softly moans in appreciation, barely suppressing her smile when she sees the way he positively lights up, “that is certainly different. The saltiness complements the eggs quite well. I am a little unsure about the texture. It is not bad,” she is quick to reassure, “but if anything, it vaguely reminds me of sundried tomatoes.”

The younger alicorn bobs his head in consideration, ultimately agreeing with the observation. “I could see that. The skin, at least, maybe. Can’t say I care much for tomatoes on an omelet, though. There are some really good tomato and vinegar based sauces that go really well on one, though. Ketchup, of course, is okay, but again, not my speed. I have yet to encounter anything I would consider a hot sauce, exactly, and ponies don’t seem to care for very spicy stuff. Nor do griffons, based on what I saw at Maestro’s.”

Muzzle inclined in thought, he muses, “I’ll hafta maybe get with Momma Lemon and do some experimenting in the kitchen; see if I can’t come up with a good Red Hot or Cholula knock-off.” Tilting his head to the right, he continues, “I wonder what I should call buffalo sauce if I can come up with a good one.”

Distaste barely held back from her voice, Celestia all but pleads, “Tell me that is not some sauce based off of a buffalo’s flavor.”

Cure chuckles, shaking his head. “No. It was named for the city that supposedly invented it. Maybe,” he shrugs. “Buffalo, New York. Buffalo meat isn’t very good. Not nearly as flavorful as cow.” The princess’s snout crinkles in disgust. “Horse is the same, for that matter.” The look intensifies at his assertion and a shudder passes through the mare. Undaunted, the colt presses on, “I think it’s too lean, maybe, that’s why pork and beef were more popular.

“That and most folks felt about the same way you do,” he says with an understanding incline of his snout, “when it came to eating equines. The bond between them and you-know-what made the idea a little too close for comfort. Same as dogs, cats, and other domesticated animals in most parts of the world. In fact, he only had it once and even then only because he went to a restaurant that specifically served that item; likely the only one in a hundred miles… err, a hundred and fifty kilometers or so.”

“If such a bond existed then why eat them at all? Presumably there was no lack of other options.”

Cure can only offer a shrug in response. “Honestly, I don’t really get it either. Curiosity, maybe? I imagine some people must have actually liked the flavor, but other than that, I couldn’t say. I’ll admit I’ve occasionally wondered what would happen if I started offering a variety of sentient creature flavored meats to carnivorous creatures.

“Not so much what the political ramifications would be; even with my extremely limited experience I can guess that, but like… what creature would they end up thinking tastes the best? Zebras, a specific tribe of ponies, cows, donkeys, minotaurs, buffalos, hippogriffs, etcetera, etcetera.

“I’ve also kinda wondered what would happen if I, for example, secretly started selling griffon-like meat to Griffonstone and said it’s something else. Would it be, like, a big hit? Would they think it’s gross? The funny thing is that you just know there would be at least one griffon that takes a bite and thinks, ‘Huh. This tastes kinda familiar somehow.’”

That gets a chuckle out of the princess, returning some levity to the room that was lost during his rant. “While I am sure that such a thing may have occurred in times past, I find it unlikely that any living griffon would recognize that flavor.”

“Ya never know,” he argues with another shrug, “there were some cultures that considered cannibalism acceptable.” He leans in closer and whispers, “I think maybe they got the whole ‘You are what you eat’ thing backwards, maybe,” then snickers quietly at his own joke.

“Anyhow, I’m not so sure you would really consider those jerks civilized, but they supposedly existed. There was also one famously published incident where a bunch of people were stranded and waiting for rescue.” The colt’s snout crinkles as he explains, “I’m not one hundred percent sure, but I think they drew lots to see who… ya know,” he pantomimes air quotes, “volunteered ta make dinner.”

The princess casts a weary eye over the three remaining omelets. “While your cooking is exceptional, Cure, you really must work on what you deem to be appropriate mealtime conversation.”

He rolls his eyes and scoffs, chiding, “Oh, come on. There’s no namby-pamby wusses in this room. I don’t think ya woulda survived yer first century if ya had a weak gut.”

“I suppose that is true,” Celestia surrenders with a sigh. “Still, you could at least try to observe proper decorum. Now,” she scoots back and pats between her forelegs in invitation, “there is more than enough here for us both to enjoy.”

The colt lightly grimaces and meekly averts his gaze away from the bed. “I’m fine and, just so we’re clear, and please, please, don’t be embarrassed or anything. I already zapped the ‘ol sniffer but, you may want to,” he rolls his hoof while trying to think of something tactful to say, “ya know… do something about the… umm… bouquet before leaving your room.”

The look of complete befuddlement on the princess’s face momentarily confuses the colt. “You… don’t smell… you know?” he gently asks. “I mean, I kinda thought when you didn’t say anything right away that you may have gone -” he stops talking when she lifts a wing and unsubtly gives herself a pit check. “Umm, not what I meant, boss.”

“Cure,” she bites out his name, “I know you were teasing me about my wings having a smell-”

“No!” he insists, waving his free hoof in dismissal. “I meant your, uhhh, seasonal aroma. I wouldn’t say anything normally. I know it’s kinda crass and all, but like I said, when you didn’t seem to register it -” he drifts off at the look of confusion and horror plastered on her face. He spreads his wings to balance on his hind legs and holds his forehooves up to settle her panic. “Easy, there, Tia! It ain’t no big thang! Hell, I have four moms now; there’s nothin to get all worked up over.”

“You… don’t understand,” she slowly replies, flushing pink in embarrassment and demurely turning away. “Alicorns do not experience estrus as regularly as the other three tribes. It was only a few years ago that my last one occurred; I would not expect it again until almost a decade from now.”

“Eh, so what?” he dismissively asks, gently falling forward to rest his forelegs and chest against her bed. “I bet the idea of having foals has been on your mind like… a billion times as frequently as it has in the past. I mean, it was one of the first things that was discussed after all this,” he reminds her, motioning up to his brow and ruffling his wings. “Then you have the politicians, our conversations about it, then you start socializing more and find yerself a dude. Let’s be real; it’s just come up a lot in the last two months compared to before.”

Celestia draws in a deep breath and nods, reluctantly agreeing with his points. “I suppose that is plausible. It could also be the result of your ascension itself. The ‘birth’ of an Alicorn of Life may have had unexpected effects. Regardless, I do appreciate your candor and the… delicacy with which you brought it to my attention.”

“Sure thing. If you’d like, I could kinda, you know,” he suggests, holding his hoof out in offering. “Your biology is different enough I’m guessing typical pony medications are somewhat ineffective.”

“You are correct. Fortunately, Luna developed a spell early on that masks the most outwardly obvious effect, even if it does nothing else. As soon as she witnessed my first season she sequestered herself in her room until she figured it out. I did not know whether to be proud, relieved, or mortified that I inspired her so.”

“Grateful sounds good enough to me,” he suggests. With no further comment he carefully climbs on the bed, crawls between her forelegs, and brushes his left side against her chest while he turns, settling in place. “Alright, Tia, let’s see if you like the others, too. Opinions were mixed amongst the kitchen staff and my night shift guards, but most of them preferred the ham flavor.”

Craning her neck back to look down at the colt, she asks, “You made breakfast for them as well?”

Smirking, he looks up to meet her eyes. “Didn’t take you for the jealous type. Don’t worry, boss,” he teases, sitting and stretching his wings back to wrap around her chest, “there’s plenty of room in my heart for everypony.” At her look of exasperation he shakes his head no, answering, “No, I didn’t make breakfast for everypony. I did give them enough meat to experiment with and made my guards breakfast sandwiches. Your cooks seemed pretty excited to have something new to play with, so don’t be surprised if they start asking when they can get more.”

“Fantastic,” she dryly responds.

“Oh don’t be that way,” he groans good-naturedly. “I would think after a billion years of having the same thing you’d be ready to branch out some.”

The princess’s sigh is like music to his ears.

With her unwillingness to forego open court for two days in a row, Celestia chooses to stay behind in Canterlot while Amethyst and Cure fly out to the event grounds to watch the second day’s events. As the princess had explained, the morning’s events were not nearly as entertaining as the first day’s had been.

With the princess not in attendance, Cure insisted that his mother take the alicorn-sized pillow in the center of the box, then ungracefully flopped against her right side to use her shoulder as a pillow. The pair, along with the far fewer spectators in attendance, watch on as event organizers go over the first six squads with a fine-toothed comb.

Squad departure times are staggered by five minutes each so that they aren’t getting in each other’s way. As each one departs another will arrive and spend several minutes being analyzed and picked over to ensure every strap is exactly where it belongs, every buckle is properly fastened, packs are tight but not overtightened, armor is shined, manes and tails are done to military standard, and, Cure suspects, that the pony remembered to floss according to procedure after breakfast.

As the squad currently leading the event, the Golden Hills team has earned the right to be first up; a coveted spot given how much more unpleasant it will be to run later in the morning when the sun is bearing more directly down on everypony. That each guard is fully geared and ready to go doesn’t help. Each one of them is carrying every single thing they could possibly need if they were stranded out in the wilderness; an inconvenience, but not an overly burdensome one compared to what a bipedal creature would have to endure.

Overall, the exercise is considered one of the easier ones with an emphasis more on the squad’s ability to maintain perfect formation and pacing through the run than their completion time, itself. Even with the added weight, any squad in this competition should be able to run the ten kilometers in twenty to thirty minutes fairly easily.

“This event seems kinda unfair to the griffon and hippogriff contenders,” Cure idly points out. Amethyst cocks a brow prompting him to continue, “Talons, as useful as they may be for precision work, kind of suck to run on. Besides, under what circumstances will a griff ever have to run long distances?”

“If their wings are hurt?”

“Then they’re better off being carried by another griffon that isn’t hurt. They can lighten themselves just like pegasi can. Barring that, toss ‘em on an earth pony’s back or have a unicorn carry them along like a piece of luggage. They can still lighten themselves in either situation, so it would be like carrying an extra twenty kay-gee, give or take.

“In fact, having the pegasus and the griff members of a squad riding on the earth ponies would be the most efficient way to do all this,” he declares, waving a hoof at the lined up squads. “Or, better yet, strip ‘em all down and toss the winged folks on an earth pony’s back, then have the unicorn hop on theirs. They could lighten themselves and each of the other two’s weight by a significant portion while the unicorn focuses on carrying the gear and the earth pony does the running.”

All three of his royal guards subtly glance back at the colt, unsure whether he is joking or being serious. While his mother is shaking in quiet laughter at the suggestion, the straight-faced delivery and lack of a chuckle afterwards leaves them wondering. Unfortunately for them, as closely as he monitors his proximity, the slight turning of their necks and the smirks they trade might as well have been signal flares in the dead of the night.

“Unless my eyes deceive me, I do believe my three guardians are failing to see the genius behind my idea,” he idly muses.

“I ain’t so sure that’s what’s on their minds, colt,” Amethyst argues.

“Well, either way, maybe we should test it out to see if it works like I bet it would. Who knows? It could work so well that they change the entire event to take advantage of it!” He casts a curious gaze at the unicorn in the front and asks, “How bout it, Sergeant Trail? Would you feel about giving it a whirl? I bet if I asked nicely you three could go before they send the first team out.”

“Sir! I would prefer not to interfere with the planned events, sir!”

Cure scoffs and flicks his right wing in dismissal. “Interfere scminterfere! This is an important experiment, sarge! It could revolutionize how our military transports troops for centuries to come! And just think - you three, right here, could be the lucky ponies that get to demonstrate how much more efficient it could be. Hay, an earth pony, a unicorn, and a pegasus, all working in concert to, literally, go the distance. If that isn’t just the very picture of harmonious teamwork then I don’t know what is!”

The stallion looks uneasily between the eagerly smiling colt and the starting line where the Golden Hills team is getting ready to depart. After a few tense seconds Amethyst gives the young alicorn a hard bump with her shoulder. “Quit teasin yer guards, brat.” He juts a pouty lip out at the mare who turns and reassures them, “Don’t listen ta him flappin his lips. He ain’t gonna make y’all strip and hop on each others’ backs, no matter how much the other mares might appreciate it.”

Cure gives the trio an unimpressed look. “First off, no need for the whole ‘sir this,’ ‘sir that’ thing when it’s just us. That aside, you didn’t really think I would ask you to pile on each others’ backs like some kinda… pony sandwich, then run a ten k race, did you?”

The unicorn shakes his head, saying, “We had hoped not, sir, but… you never know with nobles.”

Cure chuckles mirthlessly and shakes his head. “Noble my fuzzy rear end. Don’t lump me in with that lot, sarge. I can see your point though; maker knows what kind of crap I’ll get dragged into when I’m older and have to deal with those nuts more often. It definitely won’t be stallion-on-stallion pony piles if I can help it, but like you said… ya never know.”

Conversation comes to an immediate halt when a light pink pegasus mare timidly makes her way up to the royal box. Though her pinned ears and tightly held wings show her hesitance, she still musters the courage to approach. Cure catches sight of some movement in her mane and a tiny head pokes out from behind her neck to look around.

“Why, if I’m not mistaken,” Cure loudly gushes as he hops up and steps forward, “that adorable little filly looks just like Vanilla Cream! Look how much she’s grown already! Bring her on up here where we can get a good look at her! How’s being a dam working out for you, Mrs. Sorbet?”

Cure’s guards step out of the way, allowing her to approach. “You remember us?!” she excitedly squeals. Her wings dance happily on her back and she giggles excitedly while reaching back. She lifts the filly up off of her and sets her on the floor of his box, then gives her a little nudge with the top of her muzzle. “Go on, sweetie! This is the young stallion that helped bring you into the world! Go say hi to his highness!”

Cure softly scoffs and rolls his eyes. “I’m pretty sure you did the hard part.” He squats down on his barrel and spreads his forelegs wide, calling “C’mere, lil’ ‘Nilla! Let Big Brother Serpentus nibble on them floppy ears!”

The cream coated filly toddles up closer and looks up to Cure’s brow. She rears up and puts her forehooves on his muzzle, then leans in to get a closer look at the large emerald sitting between the snakes of his crown. “Not… what I expected to happen,” he playfully remarks.

“She’s lookin at herself in the reflection,” Amethyst giggles. “She plum fergot you were there at all, colt.”

“No doubt. Seems to me the lil lady has a fondness for the finer things in life.” He glances up to her dam and says, “She’s gonna break hearts and wallets when she grows up, just you watch.” He gently picks the girl up and hugs her against his chest. “So she seems perfectly healthy. Not that I mind checking up on one of my tiniest patients, but is something the matter?”

“Oh! No! Of course not, your highness!” Raspberry Sorbet insists. “I was just hoping to say thank you again for everything. I talked to my moms about her birth and they all insisted that it isn’t usually as easy as it was with you there. At least, not for us it isn’t.” She turns and ducks her head in a shallow bow to Amethyst, saying, “It’s an honor to meet you, too, Lady Minerva. You must be very proud of your son.”

“Very much so. At least between catastrophes, most of which can be blamed on ‘em.”

He pauses his grooming of the filly’s little mane and ears and coos, “Don’t listen to her. She’s just cranky ‘cause I didn’t make her breakfast today. Yeah, that’s all she is, a big ‘ol cranky booty. I never cause any problems at all, do I, lil’ Nilla?” The filly looks on indifferently. “No! Of course not!” he vehemently insists.

The flat look Amethyst gives the dam shows exactly how much she agrees with that. When she tilts her head to the side to look past her, Cure looks up and follows her eyes. In the few moments he’s been loving on the squirmy filly, a couple dozen other ponies have lined up, each with a young foal on their back or running around their hooves.

“Uhhh, sarge?” he calls in a questioning tone.

The stallion looks over his withers and dips his head in respect. “They’re mostly foals you helped with, sir. And a few others hoping your highness will... grace their foals with your presence.”

“Grace them with my presence?” he echoes. Looking down, he asks the filly in baby-speak, “What do you think, sweet Vanilla? Do you feel any more graceful than you did before? Let’s see.” The colt releases Vanilla who promptly hops and flaps back to her dam every bit as clumsily as any other three month old. “Eh, I guess we call it a work in progress.”

After entirely too many parents eager for their foals to be blessed by the Alicorn of Life, the long line of excited adults finally comes to an end. To Cure’s surprise, however, there is still one pony in line; a light, pastel purple unicorn filly with a silver mane. She looks to be slightly older than he is, and her cutie mark is a rolled up scroll with a red ribbon on it.

Cure gives her a befuddled look and cocks his head to the side. “I’m going out on a limb and guess you’re not just here to bask in my presence.”

“On the contrary,” she primly replies, “that it’s precisely why I am here, your highness. That and to allow you to bask in mine.” The filly drops into a formal curtsey, head bowed low and horn pointing slightly to his left. “Calm Eve, your highness. It is a pleasure to meet you.”

Cure glances over his withers at his mom, brow hiked nearly to his mane. The unhelpful mare shakes quietly in laughter enjoying the colt’s ongoing plight. She shrugs uncaringly and motions with a hoof for him to refocus on the prostrate filly, all but telling him he’s on his own dealing with her.

Internally sighing, he turns back to the girl and calls for her to rise. “Apologies, Miss Eve, but I’m afraid you have me somewhat at a loss. Am I to understand that you simply wanted to… meet me?” he questions, voice tinged with confusion.

“No need to apologize, your highness,” she replies, standing and thrusting her chest out proudly, “and feel free to call me Eve, if you would prefer. I noticed that, while his highness has enjoyed the company of her majesty and Lady Minerva, not a single foal has simply asked if you might like to be friends.”

Cure can easily admit he was genuinely unprepared for her response. Her observation is absolutely correct; not a single foal his own approximate age has tried asking to just hang out, but that is exactly what he would expect. After all, who would have the gumption to just walk up to a member of royalty, especially when Celestia is nearby, and ask if he wants to go play? In the back of his mind, aside from the everpresent paranoia that this is some ruse, he can genuinely admit that if he wasn’t really doing anything else, chances are he would say yes.

Still, he is a prince; the second in line for the throne. Ponies don’t just walk up and ask to hang out. The very idea of somepony approaching Celestia to simply be friends is absurd, not that he places himself on her level in any way. Anypony doing so would obviously have to be working some kind of angle.

Right?

But… why does it have to be like that?

Hasn’t Cure been insisting that Celestia interact with ponies more in an informal setting?

Isn’t her going out and having fun like anypony else his idea?

Why, then, should he act any differently when somepony else does something similar for him? What’s the worst that could happen? He eventually finds out that somepony was trying to use him? Certainly that is possible, but it’s not as if he plans on using his authority to give somepony some kind of advantage.

The girls, Dawn in particular, may express some concern, but he’s not even ten; acting like they’re married is completely absurd. Even if that were the case, there’s certainly nothing wrong with having a friend.

Is there?

A subtle scenting of the air shows none of the pheromones Cure associates with attraction. Curiosity is present as well as a hint of anxiety, likely from the slight delay in his answer, but there’s no other sign that the filly has some ulterior plan. She isn’t wearing any clothing at all; no fancy dress or even a scrap of jewelry.

Lack of accessories aside, he can’t help but think she must come from money. Her coat is trimmed, styled, and conditioned to perfection with no hair out of place and not a single strand hanging below her coronets on either leg. Her long, flowing mane and tail look to have been professionally done and well brushed. Her poise is confident and proper, much like a soldier standing at ease, though he can detect a hint of nervousness in the way her tail is held still behind her.

After only a few seconds of consideration, he finally breaks the silence. “You do know what you’re getting yourself into, right? Do you really think you’re prepared to deal with the consequences of being a friend of Prince Serpentus? After all,” he tilts his head subtly towards the few cameraponies that have been taking pictures of him all morning, “everypony will know who you are.”

“Let them,” she replies without a moment’s hesitation. “I’m sure his highness would agree that the best way to address that would be to have as many friends as possible. After all, while spending time with one filly might be newsworthy, but where is the story if his highness has dozens of friends? Surely they do not expect a colt our age to have nopony to talk to.”

“I… can’t argue that, I suppose,” he slowly agrees. It only takes another second to come to his decision. “As long as you know what you’re getting into,” he mumbles with a shrug. He holds his hoof out for a bump and comments, “You can never have too many friends, right?”

The filly beams a positively radiant smile, stepping closer and returning the gesture. “That’s exactly right, your highness. After all, friendship is magic, is it not?”

The entire world seems to come crashing to a halt. Cure feels like his blood turns into ice just as the filly’s hoof makes contact with his own. He does his best to school his reaction, actively forcing his wings not to jerk up in surprise and for him to actually breathe. He’s not the only one that caught her response; Amethyst, previously watching on with only mild interest, suddenly snaps to full attention and focuses all of her senses on the filly in front of them.

Eve goes stock still in surprise; where the meeting had gone well up to that point, both the young alicorn and his mother are fixated on her like she is meat before a starving manticore. Shrinking in on herself after meeting his hoof, she cautiously looks between the pair. “Is… is something wrong, your highness?” she timidly asks.

Consciously setting his outstretched hoof back on the platform, Cure spends only a fraction of a second gathering his wits. “No. Nothing is wrong. It’s just that I think I’ve heard that saying before, but I can’t recall where it was.”

The filly’s rigid posture relaxes as she lets out a sigh of relief. “Perhaps his highness is familiar with my family, then? It is our House Words, after all.”

“Oh?” he asks with forced calm. “Then you come from a line of nobles?” He notes his guards glance back with subtle smiles; not unsurprising given his earlier comments.

“I do!” she excitedly replies. “Our House is a very old one, even if it is quite small compared to many others. According to the House Charter we hail from the same line as the great Star Swirl himself!”

“Same line?”

Nodding eagerly, she explains, “Lord Swirl never had any foals, but he did have a cousin, or so the story goes. While Lord Swirl was off thwarting the evils that plagued ponykind, it was my ancestor who managed the affairs of the House. At least, that is what our records indicate. Much was lost during the Age of Chaos and there is a gap, unfortunately. Our House was not formed until centuries later, shortly before The Reformation and move to Canterlot occurred.” She mostly suppresses a wince and adds, “Only a few survived the razing of the castle.”

“Huh. Interesting,” he calmly replies, all the while mildly panicking internally. “Well, rather than us stand here awkwardly, how about you join me,” he offers, looking over his withers. “Somepony stole the boss lady’s cushion,” he accusingly points out and is promptly ignored by his mom, “but mine’s plenty large enough for us to sit and chat. If you’d like, that is?”

“I would be delighted, your highness!”

“Alright,” he nods, waving with his wing for her to follow, “but no more of the ‘highness’ stuff. Serpentus will do just fine.”

Dinner

Having been delayed by a meeting going longer than anticipated, by the time Celestia arrives at the table the serving staff have everything prepared on the wings of the room. A tinge of guilt passes through her as she takes her seat at the head of the table whereupon they jump into action. “My apologies for being tardy. I hope you have not waited for me very long.”

“Nah, just got here ourselves, majesty,” Amethyst instantly dismisses. “Yer lookin a mite bit tired, if ya don’t mind me sayin.”

“No, I am exhausted. I have spent the better part of the afternoon,” she pauses to look out the windows, “and, I suppose, the early evening listening to arguments for a reduction in tariffs. It only took ten minutes of listening to Lord Millworth detail how increased lumber imports would utterly destroy the economy before I began struggling to pay attention.” Teasingly, she adds, “Perhaps if I had gotten a little more sleep this morning it would not have been so difficult to endure.”

“Please,” Cure scoffs, “you’re the one who said you can go a whole week without sleep. If wakin up fifteen minutes earlier exhausted you that much then maybe you’re just getting old. Besides, I’ve always said you ought’a find somepony to take care of some of your duties so you can punch out earlier. You’re the one that insists you gotta be kept in the loop on every little thing.”

“And I keep asking if you are volunteering,” she rebukes.

“Sure thing. Just check back with me in a few decades and we’ll see what I can help ya with. In the meantime, maybe you should check on the other prince to see what he is up to all day. As I understand it, he’s been around a minute, so I’m sure he knows what’s what.”

Celestia flat out laughs at the suggestion, shaking her head in dismissal. “He has shown even less interest in governorship than you have.”

“Maybe you should hire Junior to be some kind of attaché then. He’s at the age where he should start working. Give him some small administrative task to start learning and, maybe, in five or so years, he can learn enough to take something off your plate. He seems competent enough from what little interaction I’ve had with him. Tiara, too, for that matter. In fact, given her name I would expect that would be right up her alley.”

The ancient alicorn frowns in thought and conversation pauses momentarily when the servants stop by to check on the meal. “Perhaps that would be a good idea. It is not as if Senior has either of them doing much at the moment.”

“See? Full of brilliant insight,” he agrees, tapping his chest for emphasis. “By the way, I have some news of the more confidential sort.”

“Oh?”

“Mmhmm. I think I met somepony important today. A young filly named Calm Eve.” At Celestia’s look of incomprehension he continues, “She’s from House Vespera.”

“Vespera? The ones that claim to be related to Star Swirl?”

“That’s the one,” he confirms. “And to be honest, I’m inclined to believe it.” She tilts her head curiously to the side prompting him to explain, “Her colors? Her story? Her older sister that I just happened to almost bump into last year on the one day we stopped into the capital? It all adds up, boss. Something,” he twirls his hoof in the air, “seems to pushing me into running into these ponies. When I asked her what made her decide to approach me she said she thought Prince Serpentus should have some friends. After all, according to her, friendship is magic.”

A bulb seems to come on above the princess’s head. “Amicitia est Magicae!” she all but curses. “That’s their house motto! How did I not notice?!”

“Dunno, boss. Seems like sometimes maybe you have a lot on your mind. One would think you’d made that connection, but… eh, it happens. She said she and her family had come down from Canterlot to browse the vendors when she looked at the back of the bleachers and saw me and mom layin there. Said she felt compelled to come say hello. Seems more than a little odd if ya ask me.”

She hums in thought and bobs her head in agreement. “Presumably you did not detect anything unusual other than the circumstance?”

It takes him a second to register her meaning. “No. She wasn’t a changeling or anything like that. There were no signs of her being anything else, either.”

“I see.”

“Yeah.”

“I expect I will find a picture of the two of you in the paper tomorrow, then?”

“I’d bet more than a few bits on it, yeah. I brought that up. She didn’t seem concerned at all.”

“I will monitor the situation and intervene if necessary. It would take but a few words to warn the media not to harass her if need be.”

“Good deal. Foals should kind of be off limits, and I sure as hay don’t want my friends being harassed when my identity is inevitably leaked. Blatant subject change - did you see the article in the Herald this morning?”

She gives him a flat look that earns a chuckle from his mom. “The one touting the services of a certain alleged zebra shaman?”

“That would be the one,” he cheerily confirms. “I’ll tell ya what, if I thought I was busy yesterday… woo boy, it was craaaaaaaaay zeee today! I don’t think I’ll get to sleep until the friggin trains shut down tonight, and even then I’ll probably have a line.” He turns to his mom and proudly declares, “I’ve made more bits today than I usually do in a week!”

“Good!” Celestia exclaims. “I am extremely proud of the work you are doing, Cure. I have had to field a few inquiries from Director Storm and others in regards to this mysterious shaman, but I was able to sway her from sending a team to investigate. Her first assumption was that somepony had somehow smuggled your medicines away and given them to another nation. The very notion made her irate beyond words.”

“I don’t see them stealing stuff from a prince and then choosing to show that off at a venue right by the capital while we’re both in attendance,” he points out.

“Exactly the argument I made,” she agrees. “Nonetheless, ponies have taken notice. Contrary to what I suggested the other day, your idea of running out of supplies may not be a bad one.”

“What about the competitors?” Amethyst inquires to which Cure nods in agreement.

Genuinely confused, Celestia looks between the pair. “What about them?”

“Ya told ‘em not ta communicate with anypony competing,” she reminds the ancient mare.

“Yeah, Madame Adiah has been telling anypony in the competition that she’s been barred from treating them until the events are over. I’ve got appointments for most of Saturday morning that I set aside for them. Officially, Friday is the last day she is open for walk-in customers.” Belatedly he adds, “Sorry, I know you said no communication, but, ya know… I couldn’t just ignore them. I have a sign up now, though.”

“That is perfectly okay, Cure. I had not even considered them approaching you in your disguise.” She pauses for a moment while weighing the options in her mind, tilting her head to and fro in thought while quietly humming. “I suppose the best course is to carry on, then. As I said before, even if every single foal born next summer were a colt it would be nothing but a boon. We could not have several seasons like that in a row, but one alone would be acceptable.”

“Good deal.”

“Plus the treasury could always use the influx from the taxes you are generating.”

His tail and mane erupt in a geyser of streaming gold as his wings shoot up off his back. “WHAT?!”

As if speaking to a simple pony, Celestia calmly explains, “Everypony must pay taxes, Cure. I do not see why this distresses you so much.”

“BUT! BUT! I’M EXEMPTED!” he energetically insists.

“Of course you are, silly,” she teasingly agrees. “However, I do not recall granting any such exemption for any zebra. Especially none by the name of Madame Adiah.”

The colt makes alarmed whiny noises as he looks back and forth between the princess and his mom. She calmly sips at her tea as Amethyst outright guffaws, all but falling on the table in uncontrollable laughter.

“What the ffffffffffffffffrick, mom?!” he barely manages, holding back the curse that fights to free itself from his muzzle. “Why are you laughing?!”

“I wish I had a camera!” she declares, not answering his question. “You look like yer ‘bout two seconds away from murderin somepony, colt!” she gets out between laughs.

A stream of sounds escape the colt, none of which are coherent words. Still, the distinct harsh vowel sounds Celestia generally associates with profanity are all present in abundance.

“Cure,” Celestia calmly intervenes.

He continues to fail at manifesting any words, simply turning to face her with a growl.

“How much are you making per day?”

“A… lot,” he admits with a wince. His mane and tail finally calm, though still retain flecks of gold at the tips.

“And what has it cost you to make it?”

He mumbles a response too quietly to discern.

“What was that?”

“Nothing,” he barely manages to bite out.

“Nothing,” she repeats with a nod. “No supplies. No products. No advertising. It could be argued that it did not even cost you time, which, I do not need to remind you, you will have in abundance. The only thing it has cost you is some effort, and given that you did not even seem distracted, I suspect it has not been that significant of a burden.”

“But we had a deal!”

“How do you propose I exempt this traveling shaman that nopony has ever heard of from tens of thousands of bits in taxes?” she calmly inquires. “Would that not seem incredibly suspicious to anypony who notices? Especially given the strangeness of her sudden appearance, and in such proximity to somepony who could presumably perform the same miracle as she?”

His lips curl into a look of utter disgust, but after several long seconds he offers no answer.

“Exactly,” she continues in that damned motherly tone. “Let me ask you this: will you ever truly find yourself lacking for money?”

He huffs and crosses his forelegs over his chest, petulantly snapping out a quick “No.”

“No,” she agrees, “you will not. You are barely over nine and have more income than all but the most wealthy of my little ponies.”

He looks up at her signature phrase, but does not ignite his horn to cast Teleport.

She stares at him impassively, waiting for his response.

A few seconds pass in a tense standoff before he sighs and shrinks down on himself. His horn lights up and a single bottle appears in a flash along with three glasses. “Fine!” he broodily pouts, “but if you think I’m accepting this with frickin grape juice then you’ve apparently already had a few.”

Author's Note

Wow I am late getting this out there! Sorry, folks, but you know what they say about being late!

So, not a lot of "competition" stuff going on here, I am sorry to say. I would like to include more of them, but frankly I feel like folks kind of lose interest when the focus isn't on the main character(s). I know I typically do when reading a story, to the point where I struggle not to skip interludes.

I hope to get us back home within a few chapters. As I have with every other subject that's come up, I've spent way more time on this competition than I planned to. Still, Cure's been really busy the last couple weeks, as he always is. If he could just stop stirring the shit once in a while we could get some real passage of time, but... well... what do you expect when someone has so much to do and finally has the power to do it?

As always, thanks for reading, rating, and especially commenting.

Enjoy!

Chapter 115: Q and A Session

Thursday, September 10th, 909 AB (that same day)
A short while later

Though it certainly was not Cure’s intention, the spectacle of a stray dog running the course ended up being a net positive for the event. Where the number of spectators was initially quite low, the cheering and laughter soon drew in a number of curious ponies all hoping to see what the excitement was about.

Though not quite up to snuff when compared to gladiatorial combat, the day’s tests were still fairly entertaining; a sentiment seemingly shared by some of the other foals in attendance.

While they couldn’t build themselves an obstacle course like the earth ponies had to complete, nothing was stopping them from recreating the unicorn test; at least, in spirit if not in form. They didn’t have darts to protect themselves, but foals always seem to make do. Impromptu rules were agreed upon whereby shield panels, wings, or earth pony hooves were deemed to be adequate substitutes. A foal darted off to raid his sire’s tennis ball stash, and within a few minutes they had gotten started.

It went well enough for the first couple rounds, but a dark orange unicorn filly a little older than Cure decided she was taking too many hits. She launched a ball back at one of the foals doing the throwing and chaos quickly ensued. Being foals, none of them seemed to overly mind, and the whole thing quickly devolved into a huge, chaotic game of ball tag with balls flying all over the place.

Splitting his attention, Cure does his best to keep an eye on the now four events simultaneously going on both behind and in front of him. He is soon drawn out of his reverie by a soft chuckle from his mom. “Yer allowed ta go play if ya want. Ya know that, right?”

Muzzle scrunched, Cure considers the offer, watching on wistfully at the laughing, screaming foals as they dart behind trees for cover, form and abolish temporary teams, and overall seem to be having a wonderful time. “I’m not really sure I can, ma. All the ‘prince’ stuff aside, I don’t think I could, ya know,” he leans in closer, “split my focus like that. At least, not well enough to not look like an idiot.”

She grunts in understanding and leans over to give his ear a lick. “Yer doin too much, colt. Just bein here ‘n showin support fer the guard, yer already ‘on the clock.’ Tryin to make a few bits while yer at it… well,” she sighs, “wouldn’t be so bad if ya needed it, but now yer missin out on bein a foal.”

“Yeah, I know,” he dejectedly accepts. “I was… well, not quite bored, but, I guess antsy the other day and I figured it would be a good way to burn off some energy. I didn’t really expect it to get so far out of hoof.” He rolls his eyes at her incredulous look. “No, really! How would I have known the friggin newspapers would show up? There’s dozens of vendors at this thing!”

“Uh huh,” she grunts noncommittally, “and how many are offering anything like that?”

“Yeah, but it’s also at a friggin fair, more or less! I figured ninety percent of ponies would chalk it up as some kinda snake oil thing!”

Amethyst’s brow furrows and she tilts her head in incomprehension. “Do wut now?”

Cure groans under his breath, rubbing his temples with his forehooves. “A snake oil salespony,” he explains in exasperation. “It’s a scammer, basically. They used to go from town to town claiming to sell some kind of miraculous tonic or curing agent, usually made from something ponies wouldn’t be familiar with, i.e. snake oil.

“I wouldn’t be surprised if half of them were toxic. Either way, how would I know everypony would just accept that this unknown zebra with a product nopony’s ever seen before would be legit? I mean, the things I charge more for are instantly obvious, but it seems like half of Canterlot is coming down to have a procedure they won’t be able to verify worked for at least a few weeks.”

She gives a half shrug and points out, “Yeah, but They ain’t riskin much, neither. A few hours worth ‘a pay and an hour round trip on the off chance of having twins or a colt? Reckon everypony that didn’t come ‘ll be lookin fer her when this is all over. Especially them nobles desperate ta have a son.”

“Nah,” he denies with a lazy shrug of his wings. “By the time all these foals are born and they have proof she was real, the treatment I gave Tia should be approved. And they’ll be able to get that for free at their local clinic.”

“And somepony’ll get another few statues outta it.”

“Not me. Not ‘till I’m older, that is. Shock and dismay, the boss lady isn’t going to advertise that the foal prince is responsible for scrotal topical creams and vaginal suppositories. Besides, I don’t deserve any recognition for something like that anyhow. I didn’t come up with the idea myself; I just remembered it from an article. Shoulders of giants and all that, ya know?”

“Withers, colt,” she flatly corrects.

“Whatever,” he huffs. “This is why I usually avoid idioms. Harmony knows there’s some equine ones that wouldn’t be received so well.” He shakes his head in dismissal when she cocks a brow. “Later. Maybe. Probably after I’m done seeing a whole line of foals with bruises all over ‘em.”

“They’re just tennis balls,” the mare instantly dismisses. Cure acknowledges her point with a bob of his head. Even unicorn and pegasus hides are thick and tough enough that a tennis ball wouldn’t do more than sting for a moment. Then there’s the fact that ponies aren’t really shaped the best for throwing anyhow. Their speed and accuracy is very much lacking without a lot of training and practice. The biomechanical advantages bipeds have are not easily compensated for with only raw power, and foals his own age don’t typically have that.

“So,” she idly begins, pointedly glancing around, “is yer lil friend comin by?”

“You know that she is, along with some friends,” he fires back. “Dunno why you’re pretending you weren’t sitting right there smirkin the whole time.”

“Eh, I weren’t really listenin. Wanted ta give ya yer privacy and all that.”

“Uh huh,” he grunts, making no attempt to hide his disbelief. “After she dropped that bomb at the start I’m sure you just completely stopped paying attention.”

She innocently turns to look away. “I didn’t wanna stick my snout inta yer love life any more’n I already do, colt.”

Cure scoffs and shakes his head in dismissal. “No way. I’m not even entertaining that idea. I don’t need any more of that mess than I’ve already got. There is no way in Tartarus I’m tryin to add a new member, and Eve didn’t seem the slightest bit interested. Hopefully her friends don’t jump to some kind of wrong conclusion.”

“Aww,” she coos, leaning to nuzzle into his cheek. “Six is enough for the Alicorn of Life, huh?”

“You’re not funny,” he huffs, even while leaning into the affection. “That five girls are okay with sharing me is, frankly, terrifying. I’ll never be able to give any one of them the attention they deserve.”

“Eh, yer sire does fine by us.”

“I mean, don’t get me wrong; I’m glad to hear that you all feel that way, and I’m definitely not trying to, ya know,” he rolls his hoof, “convince you otherwise, but once the male to female ratio starts leveling out I bet society’s expectations will change with it. You and countless other mares may eventually decide you each deserve your own stallion. That’s not even factoring in the whole unaging thing. I could see marriages becoming term-base affairs instead of the semi-terminal ones that they are now.”

“Like… some kinda rental agreement?” she jokingly asks.

“Not far off, but also not exactly how I’d describe it. I would say they would probably be much more fluid than they currently are, though. I know divorces do happen, but for the overwhelming percent of ponies marriage is for life. You figure you have fifty, sixty, maybe even more time together for a pair of healthy earth ponies that find each other in their teens, right?”

“I suppose…”

“And maker knows that at least some marriages only last as long as they do because one or both sees it as an obligation or, unfortunately, they feel trapped. ‘I can’t leave her; our foals will be devastated.’ Or ‘He has all the bank accounts in his name.’ Well, if you’re effectively twenty-five years old then you have all the time in the world to start over whenever you decide you’ve had enough.

“I… he used to jokingly suggest that marriages should be renewable term contracts. It usually got him hit when he said it, but something like that could potentially work depending on the details. It would either take comprehensive pre-nups or some really invasive administration to have any chance at making it fair, but it could be possible.”

“Seems ta take the love outta it, if ya ask me. ‘We’ll be a family fer twenty years, then see ya later’ ain’t all that romantic.”

“Yeah,” he agrees with a cringe, “it’s a much more utilitarian approach, but the whole ‘till death do us part’ thing will eventually go by the wayside, I bet. It almost has to. It may take a couple generations to happen, but after a hundred or so years with another pony I bet a lot of folks will, if not simply need a break from their partners, have the urge to try something different.

“Who knows? Maybe you’ll have like, a central kind of main herd and, every few decades, you’ll go to almost like a secondary family for a while before coming back. Let me ask you this,” he says, turning to face her fully, “do you really think that, if you live to be a thousand or two thousand or whatever, that it’ll always just be you, dad, dam, Lemon, and Title together?”

He holds his hoof up to forestall her immediate yes, adding, “Think of it from a purely pragmatic standpoint. Anything, relationships included, can stagnate after a while. A hundred years of being together is a really, really long time. Even if everything is perfect, you can’t deny there’s a chance that you’ll eventually get kinda… I dunno,” he admits, rolling his hoof again, “bored, for lack of a better term.”

The mare’s muzzle scrunches in distaste as she hesitantly admits, “I reckon it’s possible. Eventually.”

The young alicorn nods and turns back to the field of foals, watching as a group of fillies band together to target a single colt. Far from being malicious, if he’s reading their body language correctly, at least a few of the girls seem to be somewhat attracted to their hapless victim. The colt, as they often are at his age, seems completely oblivious to that fact.

As he continues observing with faint amusement, he continues, “It was an issue that I recall from a story where a pair of unaging ponies were talking about their relationship. Obviously that won’t always be the case, though. Sometimes two ponies may never want to leave each other. And… even without aging being a factor, you’ll naturally have the occasional death.”

The colt’s musings come to a sudden halt. His ears sag and tail instinctively wraps tightly around his right hip. Amethyst starts to reach over to comfort him, but pauses when a trio of fillies start climbing up the bleachers, his new little friend leading the way. A bright yellow pegasus and a light rose colored unicorn nervously follow along behind her.

Cure perks back up like nothing happened at all, hopping to his hooves to greet his new friend. “Mornin, Eve!” He pauses and cocks his head to the side, “Kinda contradictory, now that I think on it.”

“Ugh,” she good-naturedly groans, rolling her eyes. “My granddam always makes the same joke almost every time! Exactly how old are you anyway?”

“I’m just mature for my age,” he grumbles, exaggerating a pout before looking inquisitively at her friends. “Hi there! Prince Serpentus,” he greets with an extended hoof.

They look at it for a moment trying to decide to accept or duck into a bow. The unicorn hesitantly steps forward, gingerly tapping his hoof. “Rose Quartz, your highness. A pleasure.”

“Pleasure’s mine,” he insists, turning to the last member of the party.

“Shining Star,” the pegasus introduces, all but hopping past her friend to give his hoof a solid clop. “I think everypony knows who you are, your highness!”

“Fair enough,” he acknowledges, nodding in understanding. “I admit, I always wonder if I should introduce myself or assume everypony will already know who I am. Either I seem a little dim stating the obvious or I appear a little conceited expecting everypony to know who I am.” He looks over his withers at his mom’s unoccupied pillow. “Well, come on up and make yourselves comfortable. There’s plenty of room, even if somepony decided she needed the alicorn-sized pillow all to herself.”

“Hush, you. I’m bigger’n all four a ya combined,” she indignity declares. Cure’s eyes slowly drift down the sides of her barrel and he wordlessly nods in agreement. “Better watch it, colt. Them guards ain’t gonna save ya from a whoopin from me,” she warns, never looking away from the event.

Paling at the mare’s playful warning, he quickly averts his gaze. Horn lit, he lifts and rotates his mom’s unused pillow, turning it sideways for them to lay across and plops down closest to the mare. A wing wave in invitation prompts the three to fill in on his right. Eve lays the closest and Rose takes her side, then Star half lays across the pink filly's back. She no more than settles on top of her friend before opening her mouth to allow a tidal wave of questions to pour out.

“Is it true you flew all the way from Baltimare to Canterlot in only a few hours? Didn’t you get tired or take breaks along the way? I thought you only grew wings a couple months ago. Who taught you how to fly? Are they so much bigger than a pegasus’ ‘cause you were an earth pony or do alicorns just have bigger wings?”

Both Eve and Rose look up at the filly in a mixture of bewilderment and worry. If she notices at all she certainly doesn’t let it stop her. “Daddy showed me an article about a pegasus stallion that paid somepony to look like you. Have you ever met him? That seems kind of weird,” she considers, pawing at her chin with a hoof thoughtfully before shrugging, “but he was really happy about it, so I guess it’s not a big deal.”

By now Amethyst and the three guards have turned to look as well, curious if she’s going to ever stop for the young alicorn to answer.

“How do you get around without anypony seeing you, anyhow? Is there some kind of top secret underground train you take from the hospital to wherever you live?” Her eyes snap to his horn and trail up and down it in wonder. “What about magic? Did Princess Celestia teach you herself? Are you going to go to her school this year?”

OH!” she exclaims brightening even more than she already has. Her wings lift off of her back and she starts wiggling slightly despite Rose’s protests. “Which do you like more, flying or magic?! And why do you wear clothes everywhere?” she adds, looking down his side. Thrusting a hoof out at his barrel she continues, “And what’s that made of? I saw where you gave a couple to Lady Tiara and Lady Twilight, but nopony knows where you bought them!”

A red loop of aura suddenly clamps the filly’s muzzle shut, emanating from Eve’s lit horn. “Star! Sweet Celestia, what in the sun has gotten into you?!”

“What did you have for breakfast?” Rose cries, looking over her back at her friend.

A couple muffled grunts and a look of annoyance later, Eve frees her from the magical lasso. “Daddy said he would raise my allowance if I got a big scoop!” She looks down at the side of the bleachers where several cameraponies are snapping away. Her right forehoof and wing shoot into the air and she waves happily to a pegasus stallion, shouting, “Hi daddy! Nothing yet!”

The eyes of everypony in the royal box, along with the closest few rows, all snap to the stallion who, instead of looking chagrined, gleefully waves back to his daughter. “Keep at it, my little Star! I know you can do it!”

Cure gives Eve the flattest look he can muster. “Please tell me you didn’t know about this,” he all but begs.

“I knew her sire worked for a newspaper, but no. I had no clue! I promise!”

“I believe you,” he assures the filly, not just because of her words, but also from every sense he possesses indicating she’s telling the truth. “So,” he says, turning to the filly in question, “I might be willing to answer a question or two -”

“YAY!” she cheers, flapping to half lift off. She claps her hooves in joy and excitedly says, “Daddy said that for every question you answer he’ll raise my allowance by one bit!”

“Oh?” he inquires, his grin suddenly turning malicious. “What’s your allowance right now, if I may ask?”

“Ten bits every two weeks.”

“Hmm… and this one bit increase… are we talking every two weeks or is he going to suddenly change to one extra bit per month?”

The enthusiasm drains from the girl in an instant as she puts on a thoughtful look. “I… didn’t ask?” she responds in an inquisitive tone.

“Well, I’ll tell ya what,” Cure begins, lighting his horn. A piece of paper and fountain pen pop into existence, both of which he floats in front of all three for them to look over.

I, ____________, agree to raise the allowance of my daughter, Shining Star, by one bit every ___________ for each question Prince Serpentus answers for her on the morning of Thursday, September 11th, 909 AB.

_____________ __________
Signature Date

_____________ __________
Witness Date

“Go get your sire to fill out his part and, if he does, I’ll sign it as a witness. Then I’ll answer what I can.”

“Really?!” she squeals, squashing Rose under her with each eager bounce.

“You bet. Go ahead,” he insists with a lazy wave, “then come back and we’ll talk.”

She gently takes the pen in her mouth and holds the paper to her chest, launching off Rose’s back without a second thought.

“She’s kinda… different, isn’t she?” he asks, watching her wildly flap away.

“Sorry!” Eve bashfully apologizes. “I had no idea she would act like that! She’s really very nice, I promise!”

“She’s always a little excitable,” Rose agrees, “but that was something else. Thank you for not getting upset, your highness!”

“It’s no problem. And you can call me by name if you want. Serpentus is kind of a mouthful, I’ll admit, but I’m not going to get upset if ponies dispense formalities in a casual setting. So while we have a moment,” he turns to look over the girls, “what do your parents do, anyhow? Not newsponies, I’m guessing.”

Rose shakes her head no and answers first, “My sire is a manager at Stoneworks Architecture in Canterlot. If it’s made out of stone then there’s a good chance they build it. Dam is just now going back to work after raising me and my brother. She’s applied for a bunch of secretary jobs, but hasn’t had any luck yet.”

“Huh. That stinks. Hopefully she’ll find something soon. What about your folks?” he asks, turning to Calm Eve.

“Daddy works at Platinum Cartography. They get a lot of government contracts since his highness owns the company. Dam owns a shop with granddam selling magic trinkets and crystals and stuff.”

“Oh yeah? That’s really neat. When I was first starting to get interested in magic one of the first things I did was buy an enchanting set and a few low tier crystals to practice. Unfortunately, enchanting crystals is a pain in the rear when you don’t have a horn, so getting started was a real challenge.”

Eve bobs her head in agreement. “Dam doesn’t enchant them herself, but she does have a small team of ponies she contracts with to recharge crystals for local businesses. They’re a little worried about the education plan that’s going into effect this fall. Apparently other tribes and even other creatures can charge crystals as well.”

“They can,” Cure confirms, “but unicorns that have used magic their whole life have a lot more power, so a mid tier crystal would be the most they could charge at once. Then there’s the fact that a lot of appliances don’t have their crystals where they can be easily reached, so somepony either needs a horn or, I guess, a magical wand or staff.”

A thought comes to mind and Cure suggests, “Maybe your dam should commission a series of small, but good quality wands specifically for charging crystals. They won’t have to be nice enough to use for casting, but as long as they can channel magic a few meters to recharge a crystal, then...” he trails off, allowing her to finish the thought.

“Then dam could sell those to make up the difference!”

“Maybe,” he agrees, “some of it, at least. Of course that’s a one-time sale instead of an ongoing service. Again, unicorns have a huge advantage even if other tribes can charge things, so you’ll probably have some ponies, or other creatures, buy one and decide they would rather still hire somepony else because it makes them tired or takes too much energy.”

He leans forward to look at Rose and apologetically says, “Sorry I don’t have anything immediately useful for your dam, but I could ask… Well, Celestia may not know what all secretary positions are open, but I’m sure somepony at the castle would know of a job somewhere that needs to be filled. I won’t promise a job, but maybe she can at least get an interview out of it.”

“That would be fantastic! Thank you, your highness!”

“You bet.”

Conversation lulls for a moment as the three watch Star wrap up negotiations with her sire. The cheery pegasus flies halfway up the stands, then realizes the guards are giving her a disapproving look. She lands, tucks the paper and pen under her left wing, and climbs the rest of the way looking somewhat scolded. Reaching the top, she ducks her head in apology to the guards and climbs right back on top of Rose without a second thought, earning an annoyed huff from her unsolicited cushion.

Ignoring the brief glare the unicorn sends her way, she passes the paper and pen back to Cure with her wings dancing eagerly on her back. He looks over the form with a chuckle radiating amusement. “Smart,” he comments, signing his royal alias. “He added a cap, I see,” noting the “max of 20 bits” the stallion tacked on. “Still, I’m guessing another twenty bits per month won’t break your heart, hmm?”

“Mmm-mm!” she hums, shaking her head.

“Honestly, he could probably sell the contract with my signature on it and cover the raise until you’re an adult, let alone whatever his job will pay for the interview. Here ya go,” he says, passing back the signed paper. “So, maybe a little slower this time?”

“Okay!”

“What’s your first question, then. And girls?” he calls to the other fillies, “Unless your sires have made a similar arrangement, I suggest you let Star earn her raise.”

They share a look and come to some kind of silent agreement as the nearly glowing pegasus starts, “First question: What tribe are you most attracted to?”

Both unicorns erupt in blushes and uncomfortable giggles, but aside from a light pinking of her cheeks and ears, Star waits for his answer with rapt attention.

“Well, first off… where’s your notepad?”

A look of pure panic crosses her face and her head whips to the right to look at her sire. Cure’s horn ignites and a pad and pencil pop into existence, then float into the grateful filly’s hooves.

“There we go. So… what tribe do I find the most attractive, hmm?” he ponders, tilting his head in consideration. “Well, I don’t want to say anything divisive, but I have to admit that there’s just something about a beautiful set of wings that draws my eyes.”

Leaning far enough that her chest is on Eve, her eyes light up as she all but screams, “REALLY?”

He shrugs helplessly and sighs in defeat. “I can’t deny it. That being said, I have no plans to add to the group of girls that have already claimed me. Also, Iris and Elsa are the only fillyfriends I have that were born with a pair, so it’s not like I have some kind of fixation.

“Wings, be they feathered or membraneous, are just pretty and eye-catching if they’re well taken care of,” he says, lifting and spreading his own exceptionally large and immaculately groomed wings in the air to show off some truly impressive plumage. All three look on in admiration as the faint scent of cinnamon tickles their snouts.

His wings come down in a rush of air, folding against his sides with an audible clap and snapping all three out of their rumination. Looking pointedly at the blank notepad, Cure asks, “Did you remember to write that down? I’m not sure your sire will pay up if you forget my answers.” She begins scribbling furiously on the pad, her tail eagerly wagging behind her hard enough to rock her hindquarters from side to side.

“Okay! Tell me, what do you do for fun?”

“Ah, well… without giving any details, I have younger siblings that I like to spoil, so I spend a lot of free time playing with them, or helping my folks around the house. I hang out with my friends plenty, of course, and I like to learn more about magic. I think my favorite hobby is creating new things and finding new ways to use existing knowledge to make life better.”

The colt shifts more to his left side, facing the fillies more directly. “Innovation is something that I want to encourage ponies to chase. There is no doubt that Equestria is the greatest nation on Equus, but it is my opinion that we’re only getting started.”

Hoof held up in a lecturing pose, he explains, “Education is the first step in climbing that mountain, especially in math and the sciences. Chemistry, physics, biology, and engineering, in particular. I know I’m only a foal, but I’m confident that the smart ponies making the big decisions like Duchess Suncrest have similar ideas to myself. I’m really looking forward to working with her office when I start visiting schools at the end of the month.”

A beat of silence passes as the fillies blink in shock.

“How old are you, again?!” Rose inquires.

Cure chuckles warmly and shakes his head. “You’re only as old as you feel, so the best answer I have is… it varies from day to day. Without giving a definitive number, I’d wager I’m within a year and a half of your age.” He points a hoof at Star and adds, “I don’t think that one counts, by the way.”

“Right!” The filly pauses when Eve leans over and whispers to Rose. The pink unicorn leans up to whisper to Star who pouts but still asks, “How much magic do you know? How many spells?”

“Oh, geez… I don’t know exactly. Over fifty, for sure. Most are low level spells and cantrips. I’m more interested in spells for quality of life than I am anything big and flashy. I use Cleaning, Mending, Minor Illusion, and Light as much as anything. Except maybe Teleport, as you’ve noticed,” he says, nodding to the pad she’s writing on.

“Is that how you get around without being seen?”

“Well, it’s a lot easier than some kind of underground train system, which I’m pretty confident doesn’t exist in the Baltimare area. I don’t think that would work so well on the coast, but I’m not exactly a civil engineer, so who knows? To answer your question, between Teleportation and Invisibility it’s not hard to show up somewhere by surprise. I’m also very good at disguises.”

“Disguises?”

“Mmhmm. Observe,” he says, suddenly hopping to his hooves. He reaches with his right hoof under his chin, pawing around in his coat for a moment as if looking for something. Finally he grasps the tab of a zipper, which he begins pulling down his chin.

The fillies stare on wide-eyed as the alicorn seems to unzip his own coat. Even the normally stoic guards turn and watch in stunned silence, jaws hanging open in disbelief when he unzips all the way down his neck, then chest, down his tummy, up around his left hip, over his dock, then up his back through his mane, in a circle around his horn, and finally stopping at the tip of his snout. Like the tarp being pulled off a display, the entire alicorn’s exterior comes apart and falls to the ground in a split second, startling the fillies and even giving his guards a slight jump. Only his mother fails to react, and that’s because her hoof is already pressed firmly against her brow. The “disguise” is teleported away in a flash, leaving behind a bright yellow pegasus colt with a royal blue mane matching Star’s own.

“Oh, almost forgot!” he mumbles, reaching back into his mane. His hoof comes back out with a horn that he then screws into place on his brow with an excessively loud, high pitched squeak. Once in place, he gives it a couple taps until it lights up in gold, teleporting his crown, regalia, and shoes back into place. “Ta daa!” he exclaims, forehooves held wide as he waits for a round of applause that is definitely not coming.

Silence.

Complete and total silence fills the stadium as the fillies, his guards, every creature in the stands, and even the contenders on the field all halt in their tracks to stare on, unsure how to react. Innocently, he looks over the completely stunned crowd and his facehoofing mom and cocks his head to the side. “What?” he asks aloud to the group as he feels around his muzzle, “Do I have something on my face?”

That afternoon

As much as he was annoyed at having to pay for unnecessary security, Cure could at least recognize the value of having ponies conspicuously keeping an eye on Madame Adiah’s stand. For one, they seem to have kept any unruly teens from approaching and being a nuisance, and even cut way back on the number of flirtatious ponies trying their luck.

He wonders what will happen with the unicorns he suspects intend to rob him either tonight or tomorrow, but hopefully he’ll have a better idea in a few minutes when they show up for their three o’clock appointment.

Truthfully, he’s regretting wasting his time and energy with the whole zebra thing. Not only have they not fallen for his taunting, keeping up the rhyming thing has been a massive pain in the ass. Really, “pain in the ass” is wholly inadequate for how much of a nuisance it has been. Fortunately, Adiah’s conversations are very limited in scope and, for the most part, repeat from customer to customer with only a little variation.

In the darker parts of his mind, he had somewhat hoped to bait some foolish and unlucky group of zebras into trying something, but with all of the publicity and, now, the attention of the Guard, it seems incredibly unlikely that anything like that will happen. He’s not even really sure what he would have done if they served themselves up to him on a platter.

As much as he would be happy to take a pound of hide off of the zebras that ordered his foalnapping, he’s pretty confident that he wouldn’t be so lucky as to land anyzebra involved in that whole affair. The Matobo are at the top of his list of suspects, but simply assuming they were solely responsible could very well be a mistake.

Of course, if he were to find the right zebra, then extracting that information from them wouldn’t be too difficult. Reading a creature’s brain isn’t the way to get them to give up information. The only question is whether fucking with someone’s brain chemistry so they “voluntarily” give up the info is better or worse than torture. Being able to wipe their memories and put them back together good as new certainly adds a new spin to the whole argument to the point where he's not even completely sure it would technically qualify as torture.

If somezebra is doing something illegal and he catches them, would it be considered amoral to interrogate them in a way that leaves them unharmed with no memory of the event afterwards? It certainly strikes the colt as at least a little amoral, but there is a valid argument to be made that, with his talent in play, the treatment would be less harmful than even a single night spent incarcerated.

Either way, Cure is fairly confident in what Celestia would say. That means that if he were to take action, there would have to be absolutely no reason to ever suspect the colt was involved in the least.

That isn’t going to be possible with Captain Shield and Major Faheem maintaining a line of communication.

Clearly Faheem must be disposed of.

…

Or maybe he should just move on and keep an eye out in case they try anything else.

Yeah, that might be the more reasonable decision, he decides, looking up just in time to catch the two unicorns approaching her stall. With an exaggerated bow, she greets the pair, waving to the door of her wagon. “Ah, I believe that my three o’clock has arrived. Come along, we’ll mend that of which you’ve been deprived.”

“Good afternoon, Madame Adiah,” the mare warmly greets.

“Deprived?” the stallion inquires, the smile on his face replaced with confusion.

“It is not anything that should bring you shame. It is not your fault, Mr. Lake; you carry no blame. What is happening to you is simply the norm. Well fix you up so you can perform.”

“What?!” he cries, looking offended. His glare turns on his partner when she chokes back a laugh. “What did you put on that appointment request?!”

“Like Madame Adiah said, dear,” she starts, voice dripping with honey, “it’s just something that happens to stallions. No need to be ashamed. You'll be good as new in just a few minutes, right?” she asks, turning to look at the zebra.

“Certainly. If you would, please?” she asks, trotting into the wagon.

The mare trots on by, slapping his side with her tail as she saunters by giggling. He finally relents on his glare and follows along, cursing her under his breath the whole way. He finds Adiah standing at the far end of the room and his partner snickering from the bench to the side.

“Now,” Adiah begins, her kindly smile suddenly gone, “normally I would be happy to play along for fun, but I find that I would rather just call this farce done. Tell me why you requested this meeting. And make it quick. My patience is fleeting.”

“I don’t,” the stallion begins, pausing when a wave of magic washes over him. His horn lights up and a shield pops in place around him with the mare hopping to her hooves and immediately following suit.

“You are not mates and his equipment works just fine. Now spill quickly before I end up with a line. I witnessed you,” she turns to the mare, “trying to see into my home, and heard what you said when you thought yourselves alone.” An Illusion pops into existence, showing the two standing not far away from her wagon. It comes to life, replaying the conversation they shared the previous day, then stops when they approach to make the appointment.

“As you may have noticed, I now have hired protection. The Guard demanded their presence; I made no such election. Regardless of my choice, I am under their watchful gaze,” shadowy tendrils begin to form and dance on the roof of the wagon. They don’t reach down, but start writhing and slithering ominously as she continues, “So I cannot have the fun I desired with my chosen prey. I have very little patience for thieves, you see.” Her smile becomes more predatory with inequinely sharp canines on display. “I would not let you off with only a warning, if it were up to me.”

Eyes fixed on the threatening display overhead, both unicorns pale at the idea of further angering the terrifying zebra. “We’re sorry!” the mare squeaks, looking between the shaman and the ceiling. “Please don’t eat us!”

“There’s no need for violence,” the stallion assures her, shrinking down as he backs toward the door. “It was all just a big misunderstanding! I swear!”

“A… misunderstanding?” she slowly questions.

“Yes! Definitely! We… uhh…” he pauses in thought and looks to his partner. “Good luck,” is the last thing he says before vanishing in a flash.

The mare gasps, looking at the now vacant spot to her side. “THAT PIG FUCKING BASTARD!” she cries in fury.

“Never learned to teleport?” Adiah casually asks.

Attention brought back to the danger at the other end of the wagon, the mare’s bottom lip quivers as she holds back a sob. “No,” she weakly mewles, shaking her head while her legs tremble.

The door swings open behind her and Adiah raises her staff. “Go. Calmly. Do not my customers scare, or be assured that I can find you,” she leans forward and slowly growls out, “An-y-where.”

The mare does not need to be told a second time.

Alone in the wagon, the disguised colt can only sigh in disappointment. “Stupid friggin Tia and her dumb private guards. Just you wait! So many spiders…”

Author's Note

Not much to say about this one. It turned out shorter than I intended for a couple reasons (a rare occurrance for me). First off, my laptop's HD crashed on me last week. That, in and of itself, wasn't a huge loss. I had gotten more years out of the thing than one would expect and, fortunately, I don't save my work on my computer; it's all done in the cloud anyhow.

Of course, that meant that I had to write the last bit of the chapter on my tablet, which is a pain in the ass. It does this stupid autocorrect thing where it "fixes" a word, but not while or right after I type it, instead it changes it when I am a word or two down the line.

I'll write, "The filly flew down to talk to her sire about the agreement" and "sire" will suddenly flip to "wife" when I'm done writing either the "the" or "agreement". Hoof is another one - it changes that to "good" on me all the time. I could see if I was using the whole swipe typing thing, but it does that even when I finger-poke the letters in. Super annoying.

Oh well, "LFoD bitches about autocorrect, water still wet. More at 11."

Hopefully I'll be back up and running at my (currently) snail's pace sooner rather than later.

As usual, thank you for reading, rating, and especially commenting.

Enjoy!

Chapter 116: It ain't Fiction, Just a Natural Fact

Friday, September 11th, 909 AB (the next day)
A few hours before sunrise

A feeling of unease wriggles its way into Cure’s gut, bringing him from his nearly sleeping torpor to full wakefulness in only a split second. Not even fully conscious of his surroundings, a Teleport crystal activates, bringing his melee specialized spider dragon into their room, positioning itself to shield both himself and his mother from any would-be intruder.

Stirred from her sleep by the sudden blinding flash, Amethyst flails wildly and rolls to her back, leaving the colt on her right as she rubs her eyes with her fetlocks. “Whatthafuck hap-” she starts, still blinking the spots from her eyes before coming face to abdomen with his unholy chimera. A glass-shattering scream tears itself from her throat and only a quickly erected Sound Bubble saves the entire castle battalion from being instantly propelled to full combat alert.

“Mom! It’s me!” he shouts, climbing atop her and grabbing her cheeks between his hooves. With his head blocking most of the view of his spider, he shakes her while shouting, “We’re safe! It’s my puppet! I teleported it here to protect you!” With her still processing what he told her, he focuses on scanning the room with horn auras and dozens of unblinking eyes.

“That,” she hisses, wildly pointing a hoof at the monstrosity hovering over the pair, “is your idea of protecting me? Givin me a heart attack in the middle ‘a the night?!”

“That went toe… hoof to hoof with the most powerful being we know.” He glances up and gives a half-hearted shrug. “Or, at least, a version of it. This one’s slower but has thicker armor. I don’t know what I felt, but something isn’t right.” A shudder passes through his whole body, but despite all of his senses, nothing in his room seems amiss.

“You sure it wasn’t just gas?”

Cure rolls his eyes, fully aware his mom can see it in the near pitch black darkness of the room. “It’s not gas, mom,” he huffs in exasperation. “You know I don’t fart anymore. No,” he pauses, checking the surroundings of his clinic and scanning over the castle grounds he can see. Once again he finds nothing out of place; the courtyard is empty aside from patrols and guards can be seen atop the wall’s crenulations and circling in the air. “Nothing seems out of place.”

“Great,” she grumbles, nudging him off of her chest so she can roll to her hooves. “How ‘bout you sort that out while I drain what little pee ya didn’t already scare outta me.”

“Sure, momma!” he happily chirps, using his construct to pick the mare up and set her gently on the floor. The annoyed, indignant look over her withers only worsens when it gently gives her a pat on her head, then nudges her rear to get her moving. A few curses and unmotherly grumbles escape as she none too gently kicks the door shut behind her.

Reaching further out, he has sensory organs sprout throughout the plants lining the base of the mountain. It only takes a moment for him to find something out of place. A single bat pony mare is poking around the base of a couple juniper trees where the ground starts to really level out.

Curiosity piqued, Cure observes as she continues probing around until, finally, she appears to find something appealing. She comes to a stop in front of a large, flourishing holly flush with bright berries that the local birds had been excited to find and gives it a few extra sniffs.

Leaning in deeper past the bundles of berries, she chomps down on a leafy branch and withdraws, pulling a bundle of leaves off into her mouth. She gives them a couple tentative chews before retching, spitting them out, and shaking her head vigorously. Furious at being denied something nourishing, she attacks the shrub with abandon, throwing berries all over the place then latching onto the branch at its base with her teeth. One quick jerk and she rips the whole branch off, throwing it away with a swing of her neck.

That is not something a female bat her size should be able to easily manage.

Even without the bizarre display, Cure was already fairly confident about what he was dealing with. While bats enjoy meat more than the more herbivorous tribes, there’s no reason why one would find the flavor so offensive. The leaves would be bland, perhaps, but that’s what you should expect when munching on some random bush.

Cure’s infantile mind pauses to chuckle at the inadvertently bawdy thought. “Hey ma,” he calls as the bathroom door swings open, “some mare at the bottom of the mountain is trying to snack on my wood.”

Left foreleg hanging in the air midstep, Amethyst blinks in shock at the statement. “Huh?”

“Yup!” he confirms, barely fighting back his laughter. “She wrapped her mouth around the base and didn’t stop until she got the whole thing. Ended up with a real mouthful, she did! I didn’t hold back and let her have her prize, but apparently she didn’t care for the flavor. The ingrate ended up spitting it back out! Not the kind of behavior you’d expect from a proper lady, is it?”

“Cure,” she sighs, shaking her head in despondence. “Yer poor dam would snatch you up -” she pauses to look up “- big, scary spider thing or no, drag ya inta that there bathroom, and spend all night washin that mouth a’ yers out if she heard half’a what you just said.”

Snickering at his own crude humor, Cure can only nod in agreement. “Good thing she ain’t here. Seriously, though, she isn't actually a pony. It’s one of those vampire fucks like the one that was eye humping me a few weeks ago. It’s sniffin around some plants I had at the base of the mountain. It took a bite of one, but doesn’t seem to have enjoyed the free salad.”

“We probably ought’a tell somepony. Think we should wake the princess?”

“Why bother?” he asks, shrugging his wings. “It’s not a threat to anypony as far as I can tell. Not right this instant, at least. There's no need to raise the alarm or anything.”

Amethyst hums in consideration for a moment before shaking her head. “I dunno, colt. Ya got no idea what them things can do.”

“And I’ll never figure it out as long as Celestia wants to coddle me. Twenty bits says we alert the Guard and she’ll want to lock me in my room ‘till it’s dealt with. ‘For my own safety,’” he mockingly adds. “Don’t worry ma, I’m not even leaving the room. This thing,” he gestures up to his spider, “only lost to her when she went all walking-sun mode on me. If those things could throw down like that I’m pretty sure ponykind would be extinct by now.”

Decision made, Cure Teleports his spider back out to his clinic and begins assembling a new one out of sight of his target. It’s not the most convenient solution, but at least he won’t scare the monster away with the bright flash the Teleport would have caused.

With the intimidating protector no longer present, Amethyst climbs on the bed and wraps her forelegs around him, smushing him against the mattress. “What are ya gonna do with it? Kill it?”

Cure shakes his head no, explaining, “Nah. I figured I’d give it a few tests and see how it reacts. Maybe afterwards we’ll hoof it over, but not ‘till I’ve seen what all it can do. It’s not worth waking her up over, but Canterlot is her territory, so once I’m done I'll let her have it. Honestly, even if it is a monster I’m not sure I have the heart to just rip its head off. I’ve never killed anything bigger than a bug on purpose.” A second of consideration has him amending, “Well, some fish, I guess, depending on how you want to tally everything up. But those were eaten, at least.”

His mother huffs and shakes her head, struggling to not feel sympathy for the monster that the colt is about to be inflicted upon. “Well whatever ya decide, don’t go torturin it. Evil or not, there ain’t no reason fer that.”

“I wasn’t planning on it, ma. I don’t have to hurt it to see how it ticks. Probably. I’ll see how it reacts before I do anything. For all I know they could be like the changelings; hungry, but lacking a way to eat without hurting ponies.” He leans up, nuzzling against the bottom of her chin. “Sorry for scarin the piss outta ya when you woke up.”

Sinking down on top of him with a groan, Amethyst shakes her head in dismissal. “No harm done, I reckon. Rather ya be a little overcautious, all things tha same.”

“Want me to send you back to na-night land?”

A jaw-splitting yawn forces itself from her muzzle. “Nah. It’s fine,” she declines, pulling him against her chest as she rolls to her left side. “Tell me what’s happenin, though. Wanna make sure you don’t do anything too dumb.”

“Perish the thought,” he agrees, nodding his left cheek against her foreleg. “I’ll send a pony body first to see how it responds.” Figuring he should start with an adult to see the reaction, Cure makes an adult stallion bat pony puppet out of sight and has it fly in the mare's direction, but not before adding a full set of accessories.

Armed and armored, the charcoal stallion lazily flies from the east side of the mountain, sliding only a hundred meters through the air. Its wing flaps can be heard from the suspected vampony’s position well before it becomes visible. Initially, the creature stops what it’s doing, ducking into the foliage until it catches sight of the new arrival.

Upon seeing that the stallion is flying alone, the Illusion wrapped around the mare alters itself. Bleeding gashes and cuts and rents in her wings appear where healthy, undamaged skin previously was. Limping pathetically out of cover, she collapses to her barrel with a fake cry of pain.

Cure begins moving his spider, silently crawling through the trees and bushes to flank her while his stallion puppet turns to investigate. A few slow loops overhead and he finally calls out, asking if the disguised mare needs any assistance. She continues to play possum, not moving or responding, luring the Guard into the trap, all the while unaware of the real hunter moving into position behind her.

With the spider finally ready to pounce on its prey, the stallion lands several meters away. “Miss? You alright over there?” he calls once again, failing to get any response. Cautiously approaching the prone mare, he continues playing the part. “Do you need medical attention?”

“Please,” she weakly responds, reaching a hoof out without raising her head, “I hit a tree and fell.” Her eyes crack open to meet his own. “Can you please help me up?”

A trickle of magic invades the puppet’s eyes, bypassing Cure’s subdermal defenses. It dissipates harmlessly where the optical nerves end and are replaced with copper wiring instead. He has a pretty good guess what the mare just attempted, but it would seem that his nonbiological additions have mitigated her attempt to subvert his will. Cure briefly wonders if the magic would be capable of passing through the blood-bound ring, but can’t think of a way to test that without unnecessarily risking himself. “Hypnosis, huh?” he ponders aloud. “That must make capturing victims a whole lot easier.”

If the mare is surprised at his resistance she doesn’t show it at all. Instead, she reiterates with another blast of magic, “Please, I’m very badly injured. Will you come help me up?”

“Listen, lady… assuming you are, indeed, female. Whatever mental command thing you’re doing isn’t working. Also, your Illusion isn’t fooling me. You,” he emphasizes, pointing his hoof in accusation, “are not a pony. We can do this one of two ways. I can beat the crap out of you and hoof you over to the princess and her paladins, or we can have a civil conversation and you might just get out of this alive. Maybe. So what’s it going to be?”

Once again she fails to show any emotional reaction either visibly or through a change in her scent. Instead, she gives up the act and stands, squaring off with the stallion aggressively. “How stupid must you be to approach me alone, then, pony. How did you know?”

“Oh, that’s easy. I was keeping an eye on you while you were digging in the bushes. I saw you before you made yourself look injured. There’s also a few other things that don’t add up, now that I’ve gotten a better look. You’re a little too cold and your scent is completely off, especially your breath which is… frankly, nasty doesn’t even scratch the surface. There’s also this,” he says, holding his left forehoof up to reveal an ultraviolet emitter he grew on his frog.

The mare hisses and dives out of the light as steam wafts off of her face, neck, and chest. Her left wing gets the worst when she uses it as a shield, and the Illusion is dispelled completely when she lands in a heap.

“Wow. My bad,” he halfheartedly apologizes. “I didn’t expect that bad of a response. Not a big fan of UV light, are ya?” As much as it feels a perfect time to quote one of his favorite movies, Cure keeps quiet as, hissing and snarling, the creature rises from the ground, glaring balefully in his direction. “Feel free to attack, but just know that I can do that from any part of my body. Again, you have two options here," he says with a shrug. "We can talk or we can fight. It doesn’t really make a big difference to me. Are you intelligent enough to have a conversation, or are just some mindless animal that’s learned enough to lure in unsuspecting -”

It launches itself at him mid-question, claws and jagged teeth at the ready. Cure angles himself left and rears up, batting both foreclaws to his right with his right foreleg. His left shoots up in a forceful kick, slamming her mouth shut with a mere fraction of his full power. The blow seems to rattle its brain as it takes a second to recover. Cure backs off to his left and drops to all fours, lifting his wings in threat.

The creature doesn’t hesitate to attack again, pouncing at its target with naked aggression. The stallion ducks down, swinging up with his right wing in an uppercut strike to its barrel. He grabs on to its underbelly with the membrane of his wing, then rises up underneath it and leans to his left, rolling her with force over his back and slamming her back-first into the ground.

Cure stomps down with his left hind leg, demolishing the monster's wing's left humerus and eliciting a gasp of pain in the process. He allows it to roll away while resetting his stance and giving it a look of boredom. “I’m stronger, faster, and far tougher than you are. I’ll admit, if I was a normal bat you may have had a fighting chance, but… I’m not. Last chance.”

“I WILL FEAST ON YOUR HEART!” it snarls, ducking down to pounce once again.

Cure outright guffaws in its face, shaking his head in disappointment. “I swear, I never, ever, not in a million years expected something to actually say anything like that to me. I mean… does that actually scare -”

Once again interrupting his speech, it dives forward attempting some kind of tackle. This time going low for Cure’s legs, the beast is dodged with a hop to his right. Turning his body as he lands, Cure lashes out with both hind legs. Both armored hooves land true, sending the vampire rolling across the ground and bouncing on more than a few rocks protruding through the dirt.

Its left wing is completely destroyed with the attack, and Cure is almost certain he at least cracked a few of its ribs. It comes to a stop several meters away in a heap, whimpering pathetically in pain. Even though the monster has made several attempts to kill him, he can’t help but feel a slight pang of guilt at the canine-like cry of anguish.

It's not that he feels bad for the creature; it has more than exhausted his extremely limited “interrupted my sleep” amounts of patience. The sound is just way too similar to something he heard from an aging pet in another life, twinging something sympathetic in the back of his mind.

“So… are you done now?” he asks, walking to stand over his would-be attacker.

A weak swipe of its claws skidding harmlessly off of his shin guard is its only answer. “Disappointing. Well, let’s see what makes you tick, then I'll fix you up some, then we'll see what Tia wants to do with ya.” With the spider nearby, there is no need for him to grow another horn on his puppet. He begins his scan of the monster, its anatomy flooding into his mind in an instant. His magic no more than floods through the beast when it erupts into a geyser of gore, exploding all over the stallion and the surroundings.

Standing there, blinking in shock with black gooey chunks of vampire running down his face, a thought comes unbidden with so much force that it escapes his muzzle with nary a thought.

“Eugh! It got in my everything!”

Shortly before sunrise

“Ohh TiiiiiaAAaaaa~” Cure croons, leaning to snuffle at the base of the princess’s right ear. Forehooves on the side of the bed, the colt struggles not to hop up and wrap her neck in a hug. Despite the ancient mare’s large frame, her adorable sleeping visage is just too difficult to resist. His small tongue snakes out, grooming the floppy appendage into submission and earning him more than a few face whacks in the process. “It’s time for all the pretty pony princesses to get out of bed and raise the sun. Let’s go bring another beautiful day to all of our little ponies!”

“Go ‘way. F’ve m’re mins.”

“You did not just ‘Five more minutes’ me!” he amusedly huffs. “You either get that fanny outta bed or I’m gonna hop up there and drag ya out by yer tail, little missy!”

Slowly, Celestia twists her neck to give the diminutive foal a doubtful look over her withers.

Hoof thrusting authoratatively, Cure bobs his head from side to side. “I will do it! Don’t you doubt for a minute! And you keep givin me that side-eye and I promise I’ll make ya regret it!” He leans forward in a poor attempt to intimidate one of the most powerful beings on the planet. “I showed you what it’s like to have an intense itch. Just imagine if I set that to ‘tickle’ instead.”

It only takes a fraction of a second for the threat to register before her eyes go wide.

“Uh huh,” he knowingly grunts. “I’ll have ya dancin and gigglin like a fool in front’a Primrose if I gotta. Bet them guards outside yer door would tell everypony ‘bout the princess laughin her flanks off.”

“You are entirely too chipper for this early in the morning.”

“Eh,” he shrugs his forelegs and wings, “I had a good night. Took a long, hot bath, fell asleep right away, killed a vampony, then woke up to a… well… not great, but a nice relaxing preening from my ma. I think she was feeling a little more clingy than normal.”

“Wait, you did what?!” she asks, suddenly alarmed.

“A bath. You know. Hot water. A tub. Some bubbles. You should try it someday. Maybe let them wingpits soak a little more, ya know?”

The completely flat look he earns brings joy to his very soul.

“You know exactly what I meant.”

“There wasn’t much to it, really. I woke up feeling like something wasn’t right, so I started looking around. When I didn’t find anything around the castle I started expanding the search area until I finally found it. It was disguised as a female bat sniffin around the bottom of the mountain. I moved one of my fighter units within range, then flew another puppet nearby disguised as a night guard stallion. I had expected it to hide and wait for an easier target, but it pretended to be wounded and cried for help.”

“I presume it attacked when you tried to render aid?”

“Not until I made it clear that I knew what it was. I tried talking a couple times, but it just kept throwing itself at me. I honestly expected it to be a lot stronger than it was. I would peg it somewhere around baseline earth pony, so, ya know, stronger than a bat by a fair amount, but nothin I couldn’t take care of easily enough. I don’t know how those things could ever have been a problem for a few well trained guards, let alone you and Luna. And, by the way, do you remember my theory about my blood maybe being toxic to ‘em someday?”

In one fluid motion, she rolls over, shoots to her haunches, and snatches the foal up off the floor, checking him from tail to snout for any sign of injury, all while wailing, “Please tell me you did not get bitten!” despite his many protests.

“Easy, boss! I’m perfectly fine!” he insists, frantically waving his forelegs. “What I was gonna say is that my magic itself seems to be more than enough. I scanned the damn thing and it popped like a friggin water balloon. I mean, we’re talkin nasty with a capital N. I had to blast the whole area with so much UV that even the trees ended up with sunburn before I got it all cleaned up.” Groaning, he sags in her grip. “Talk about a real pain in the ass. That shit got everywhere, I’ll tell ya what.”

The princess sighs and nods in acceptance, allowing the colt to relax in her grip before it suddenly tightens. “WHAT. WERE. YOU. THINKING?!” she demands, giving him a small shake with each word.

He reaches up with his hooves and grabs ahold of his temples, steadying his eyeballs rolling around in his head. “That you would probably overreact if I woke you up?” he matter-of-factly answers. “So far I’m inclined to say my guess was dead on.”

Celestia drops him on the bed and looks up to the ceiling, silently begging the maker, Harmony, or any other higher being for help. Sadly, none is forthcoming to save her from the tiny ball of chaos that she has been saddled with. “We have guards, Cure! Real ones! They are specifically trained to deal with such threats!”

“And how quickly could they be deployed?”

“There are squads in the city! They could have been there in a matter of minutes!”

“In which time I already had it disabled with no risk to anypony at all.”

“Except yourself!” she grounds out through clenched teeth.

“I’ll admit, the hypnosis thing did kind of catch me by surprise, but other than that, it never stood a chance. I’ve fought ten year old fillies in guard practice that gave me more of a challenge than that thing did. Seriously, the only difficult part was coming to terms with the fact that I killed something intelligent, but it’s kinda hard to feel bad when you give something like… four chances to talk and it just keeps attacking.” Pausing only a split second, he adds, “Snuggles with ma helped a fair bit, too.”

The mare’s anger dissipates and she pulls him against her barrel, surrounding the colt in a warm wing embrace. “Are you okay?” she softly asks, running her hoof down his back.

“I guess,” he says, burrowing deeper into her fluffy chest. “I mean, I’m sure I’d feel a lot worse if the thing actually wanted to have a real conversation, but all it did was try to bait me into a trap, hypnotize me, then tell me how it was going to eat me alive. I’m sure I could take a life if I absolutely had to. Or I was super pissed off, I guess. Other than that there’s very few scenarios I can imagine I would ever need to.”

“As much as I wish I could say you should never be put in such a position, when one lives as long as us then it is all but inevitable. That said, you are nine!” she growls, squeezing him harder. “There is no need for you to do anything that could put your safety at risk!”

He leans away from her chest to look up and meet her eyes. “What risk was there? Even you knew better than to get within grabbing range of that construct. I could have squashed that thing like a bug, and that's without even knowing that my magic is potassium to their water.”

Celestia raises a brow in question.

Flatly, he explains, “They do not mix well. At all.”

“I see. Regardless, tell me what would have happened had you not been able to resist the mental influence?”

Cure has the good sense to cringe at the question. “That would have been more than a little problematic.”

“You don't say?” she lightly asks.

“I guess it would depend on how quickly I would be able to overcome it if it did land. I'm assuming mind control is not a once and done thing, right? You have to maintain it, don't you?”

She sucks in a deep breath and slowly blows it out, forcing herself to calm down. “You do. Not only magically, but you must also fight to suppress your target’s will. For that reason alone I cannot imagine this… thing would have ever had a real chance to subvert you.”

“Then why…”

“The next time could be different. Our paladins fight as a team. Nopony should ever face any monster alone. When there is not somepony watching your back then one single mistake can result in disaster.”

“My mom was there. In my room, holding me against her chest. Keep in mind, Tia, I wasn't actually there fighting that thing. I can't imagine a set of circumstances that would result in them evolving to be able to hypnotize somepony through a nonstandard medium like one of my puppets.”

“I suppose there is that,” she agrees with a sigh.

“See? I was perfectly safe,” he insists, coughing awkwardly and turning away from her less than pleased stare. “So… last I checked, we do need to raise the sun at some point. Don’t worry,” he rushes to assure her, “if anypony asks, I’ll give you most of the credit. Especially if you somehow screw it all up.”

“Such as raising it from the west, instead?” she lightly teases.

Cure leans away and looks up, his humor replaced with an unusually serious expression. “I really, really hope you’ve never done anything funky with the sun or moon like that.”

Taken aback, Celestia meekly nods in response. “I have, but not for a very long time. Why? Aside from releasing a statement to the press -”

“You could get innocent creatures killed, boss. I remember reading something about some scholars failing to predict an eclipse at one point -”

“An… eclipse? Of the moon and the sun?” she interrupts, voice full of confusion. “We have not allowed such an event to occur since we assumed our duties. I recall he found the chaos they caused greatly amusing.”

“Right. That’s exactly what happened in my story. Pure, unbridled chaos. They thought some deity was angry and had blocked out the sun. I think some folks lost their lives for failing to see it coming. Others, probably, as some kind of sacrifice to appease the offended god. Given how superstitious and paranoid creatures can be, I don’t doubt something like that is possible.”

“Again, if such a thing were to occur then we would promptly release a statement explaining what happened.”

“Uh huh. And what about anything on the other side of the planet? What does it look like from their perspective? Does the sun suddenly go zipping across the sky in the wrong direction?”

“... I suppose it would,” she hesitantly replies.

“And evercreature over there would freak the fudge out, especially if such a thing hasn’t happened in generations.”

A grimace crosses the mare’s features, looking incredibly out of place where there is normally nothing but confidence. “I will keep that in mind going forward.”

“That’s probably a good idea. We don’t want to eventually find out that you got a few hundred virgins killed for a prank.”

The walk to the dining room takes longer than usual. With the competition coming to an end everypony is busy preparing for the upcoming celebration that is happening this evening. Though the party itself will be in the west ballroom, every square millimeter of the castle must be cleaned from the top to bottom. While everypony rushes to get out of the way of the royal procession, the small pauses at intersections and time spent stopping to exchange a few words still slows them from reaching their breakfast.

Finally, the double doors open, revealing the captain and lieutenant both shooting to their hooves to stand at attention. “Good morning, your majesties,” they greet in unison, waiting until Celestia, Cure, and Amethyst are seated before retaking their cushions.

“You requested our presence, your majesty?” Captain Shield asks in an instant. “If this is about the dog, ma’am, Colonel Mayday assured me -”

“Peace, captain,” Celestia interrupts, her hoof held up to calm the mare. “No, I am not the slightest worried about how a dog, of all things, somehow managed to penetrate the event ground’s security. I am certain I know who the true culprit behind that was. Rest assured, there will be no further disruptions to the event from that party.”

“Good!” Cure energetically declares, slamming his hoof on the table. “I hope you really gave them what for, boss. That somepony would have the gall to do such a thing is downright disrespectful! Not just to the guards who are competing, but also to the ponies that worked so hard to organize everything. Also, all of the little ponies who took the time out of their day to see for themselves that Equestria’s guardians are up to any challenge. I count myself in their number, though I don’t take any offense myself. It was, after all, a mildly entertaining distraction. My opinion aside, I hope you threw the book at the offender,” he firmly insists with a nod of finality.

The mare doesn’t turn or acknowledge his speech. She merely closes her eyes and takes a deep breath, counts to ten, and slowly exhales through her snout. “Yes. Moving on,” she insists, giving him a stern look, she turns back to the captain and continues, “I asked for you to come so that you could dispatch a team to the south side of the mountain. A vampony was spotted in the area last night.”

Both officers’ eyes widen at the reveal and Shield begins to rise with a sense of urgency, pausing when Celestia once again raises her hoof. “It has been slain and the remains were cleaned up, but I would like somepony experienced with the monsters to double check that nothing was missed. Also, it seems prudent to have teams scout the edge of the Everfree to ensure there are no signs of anything else nearby that may pose a threat.”

“Yes, ma’am! Do we know who killed it, ma’am?”

Celestia sighs once again and slowly turns her head to the colt. “That would be our young prince, purportedly.”

Cure buffs his hoof against his chest, preening at the disbelieving looks both mares send his way. "Whooped its ass clear ta Tuesday," he proudly boasts.

“Ahh, your suit!” Lieutenant Spear finally guesses.

“Yep! Gave the thing a right proper whoopin, I did!” he declares, throwing a few jabs over the table. “Also, it turns out my magic makes them blow up, so… yeah. Could have just used my special talent from the beginning, I guess.”

“I would advise you to do so in the future,” Celestia gruffly insists.

“Noted. And I already checked through the forest. I found a dead, exsanguinated fox a dozen klicks south and to the west a bit, but it didn’t have anything weird in it, so… a snack, maybe?”

“Likely so,” Celestia agrees with a nod. “Still, it is worrying that two of them have shown up in less than a month, seemingly attracted to you for some reason. I am beginning to think we may need to put out a warning to the public.”

“It wouldn’t be a terrible idea. By the way, I learned that ultraviolet light burns them pretty quickly, so some kind of UV projector would be a good way to dispel their Illusions, even at a pretty low level of power. I would suggest using stronger ones as a weapon, but UV light is dangerous to play with. It’ll blind ya real fast if you don’t wear eye protection.”

Celestia agrees with a nod. “I will make the suggestion to Chancellor Stormsurge when I next see him. He has teams that should be able to come up with something, be it equipment or some kind of modification to the shield spell. I am more concerned with where the creatures are coming from, however.” Turning back to the officers, she asks, “We have not had any reports of missing ponies recently, have we?”

“No, ma’am,” Captain Shield denies, “but there’s always smaller communities that we don’t hear from as often. Also, ponies travel from city to city by hoof even with the rails covering most of the country. They usually move in groups, but… well… not always, ma’am.”

“There’s always my bugs,” Cure suggests. “Once those get the stamp of approval we’ll have a wide-reaching, cheap, safe, and quickly deployable way to find and kill off these things. Especially now that I know UV works so well. Just you watch,” he assures her, reaching over to pat her left hoof, “they won’t have anywhere in Equestria to hide once I get started."

"I hope that they work as well as you expect."

"There's not a doubt in my mind, princess."

The captain and lieutenant begin to stand, "If you'll pardon us, ma'am, sir, we'll go get those teams organized right away."

"Have you already eaten breakfast?" Celestia inquires, causing both ponies to freeze in place. "I know I summoned you rather early. Surely you can eat before departing? The immediate threat is dealt with, and food should be..." she pauses when the service door swings open. "Ah, there we go. Go ahead and have a seat, captain, lieutenant. A few minutes will harm nopony."

Though they look somewhat hesitant to do so, both officers sit as food is set down in front of everypony. Cure wiggles happily in his seat when a big, steaming plate of French toast is set in front of him. Four thick slices of batter-soaked and pan seared bread are stacked nearly a hoof high with another artfully laid off-center. Strawberries, blueberries, raspberries, and slices of banana decorate the outside of the main dish which is topped off with a generous dallop of whipped cream.

Wings and tail dancing behind him, Cure is so enraptured by his meal that he fails to pay attention to the lieutenant. The mare had inconspicuously reached into her armor and pulled out a folded up copy of the newspaper, holding it in her left hoof while she started to eat. Fork laden with food, Captain Shield leans closer to hum in thought while reading the article with her.

The odd behavior draws looks of confusion from both Celestia and Amethyst, all the while Cure is none the wiser. Shield pries the paper out of her hoof and passes it to the princess who spends a moment reading the article.

"So," the pegasus casually begins, "I've finally gotten a few bulbs from my oil plants. I have to admit," she says, leaning slightly left to stretch her right wing to full extensions, "I'm quite enjoying the yellow hydrangea. The scent is absolutely lovely, and my husband says the sheen is marvelous. How are yours coming along, majesty?"

The vicious assault on Cure's toast comes to an abrupt halt as his eyes snap up to take in the outstretched appendage.

"Quite well. I was also very impressed with how easily the oil spreads." Two glorious white wings open wide, nearly filling the room with their magnificence. Jaw hanging open in shock, Cure nearly loses his grip on his fork. "I have tried countless oils over the years, as you would expect," she runs a hoof through her left wing, brushing through the feathers, "but many of them have been disappointing due to how much they run down the coverts and into the my secondaries and primaries. It can be so bothersome to get it just right, and nopony wants to go around dripping all day."

The fork clatters loudly on the table.

"Mmhmm. That is the worst, isn't it?"

"It absolutely is," she agrees, lessening the world when she refolds her wings. "Is something the matter with your breakfast, Cure? Your dam told me that this is one of your favorite recipes. I do hope the kitchen got it right."

"Yeah," he weakly mumbles, picking back up his fork. "Toast good. Very food."

Chapter 117: Final Event

Friday, September 11th, 909 AB (later that day)

Lounging against his mother’s side as they soar through the air, Cure regards the ancient mare lying opposite the pair out of the corner of his eye. Muzzle inclined towards the younger mare’s ear, he comments in a conversational tone, “So it seems her Royal Majesty, Princess Celestia, finally found time in her busy schedule to come spend time with her little ponies, ma.”

A small smirk plays across Amethyst’s muzzle as she nods in agreement. Bobbing her head, she keeps her eyes firmly planted on the side panel, studiously avoiding both looking at the nauseating expanse of sky or the subject of their discussion. “Downright magnamonious of her ta finally find the time, donchya think, colt? ”

The alicorn in question raises a single brow, distinctly unimpressed with the teasing.

“Mmhmm. Very magmalicious of her. Why, if it ain’t the most magmaloniouss-est thing I seen all year I don’t know what could be. Ta think, all it took was two and a half days for her to find a few hours ta grace everypony with her presence. It’s understandable, what with all them high-falootin nobles demanding her wisdom to… ya know, explain to ‘em why they can’t force their lower-class neighbor to move so they can expand their garden or whatever.”

“I will have you know that no such argument has been brought before me,” she deadpans, belatedly adding, “this week. Lady Hackleberry’s case was decided back in August.”

“It’s important work, colt. Someday, maybe, in a thousand years, give-or-take, yer gonna be smart enough ta have ponies askin yerself for advice or issue rulins like that. I reckon yer not gonna have time enough for us commoners either.”

“Maybe,” he lightly agrees, still ignoring the princess’s snort of derision. “Takes a whoooole lotta wisdom ta figure out that kinda stuff, though, ma, so hopefully it’ll be a while ‘fore I can’t find time ta dedicate a few days to tha ponies who’d happily dive in front of a spear for me.”

“That is entirely too far!” Celestia growls menacingly.

Cure’s ears perk upright and he looks around the cabin in confusion. “You hear something, momma? Coulda swore-” he freezes as his eyes land on the heated scowling mare on the opposite bench. “Oh! My bad, boss! Forgot you were here for a moment! With you bein MIA all week long I guess I just got used to the other side of the carriage being empty.”

“I find that exceedingly difficult to believe,” she huffs, turning to look out the window.

Rolling to his haunches, Cure gives a little hop and a flap to cross the gap between them, rearing up to crash against the side of Celestia’s neck and chest in a foreleg and wing hug. “Hurt my feelings by callin me a liar all ya want, Tia. That’s okay; we’re still just thrilled you decided to join us.” He twists his neck to look over his withers at his mother and quietly adds, “Eventually.”

The colt is promptly bowled over from his right when the princess’s left wing jabs forward into his side. “Abuse!” he decries, wings and legs flailing futilely like an overturned turtle beside her.

“I seen it, colt!” Amethyst joins in, tisking the larger mare. “Always so quick tah violence.”

His left hoof jabs accusingly in the princess’s direction, “Yeah! That’s gotta be like… the tenth time you’ve whacked me with them oversized feather dusters! Yer lucky I’m a pacifist!”

A snort blasts out her snout before she has any chance to stop it. Shoulders shaking in laughter, she shakes her head in disbelief. “A pacifist?! You?! The foal who would threaten a foreign ambassador in his own home?”

“You can’t prove nothin!” he insists, his expression the picture of overexaggerated feigned innocence.

“Who not even six hours ago fought and vanquished a monster by himself?! In the middle of the night just outside the Everfree Forest, no less?! Please!” she scoffs. “You must be the least passive foal I have seen in my entire life!”

Still sprawled on his back, he theatrically grasps at his chest with his forehooves, reeling back to the point where his horn nearly jabs a hole in the seat’s soft cushion. “Abusive both physically and verbally!” He looks to his mom and, with his right hoof pawing his chin, asks, “Does wavin them big sails in my face count as sexual harassment, too? I feel like maybe it kinda should, what with her bein my boss and all.”

“I dunno, colt. If only we knew somepony what knew all the laws ‘n stuff.”

Sighing, Celestia lifts her left foreleg and pulls the colt under her, rolling to squash him flat beneath her despite his halfhearted protests. “Are you going to be a pest all morning?” A muffled and somewhat moist response to the affirmative vibrates against her lower chest.

“Aww, don’t be mad, princess,” Amethyst interrupts. Smile stretching across her muzzle, she jerks her head to the bit of wing sticking out from under the alicorn’s barrel. “You know he just likes ta spend time with ya. Even if he won’t admit it out loud, yer one’a his best friends. You may not’a noticed, but I sure felt that little booty wagging more’n normal when ya said you’d be comin ta’day.”

A string of curses and more emphatic denials sound out before the very tip of a muzzle pokes free from just behind Celestia’s left foreleg pit. “That’s a filthy lie and you know it! I was just… uhh… excited about my breakfast!”

It’s Amethyst’s turn to snort as she shakes her head in denial. “Colt, that toast didn’t survive ten seconds once their lil feather show wrapped up.”

“Awwwwwwwww,” Celestia gushes, pulling the colt out from under herself, only to smash him against her chest in a powerful hug. “I enjoy spending time with you as well, Cure. Do not ever doubt that I consider you one of my very best friends!”

“Ah geez,” he sulks, limply hanging in her warm embrace, “you can’t go all sappy on me, boss. I can deal with annoyed, angry, or whatever just fine, but you know dudes freeze up when faced with genuine affection.”

“It is not complicated, young one,” she insists, turning him and gently setting him between her forelegs. “You must simply learn to accept it with an open heart and mind,” she explains as she gently nuzzles into his mane.

“Fine,” he sighs, knowing full well she is correct. He rolls to his back and spreads his forelegs wide, silently delighted at the way the princess radiates pure joy. Cure is once again reminded of the sheer size difference between his real body and the enormous mare. With his booty right up against her chest, her neck alone is longer than his barrel.

He momentarily considers shedding his typical golden flight suit to enjoy the warmth of her fur on his, but pony society’s weirdness about dressing and undressing, despite being a bunch of nudists, causes him to hesitate. Content to be used as a pillow by the cuddly giant, Cure enjoys the few peaceful minutes it takes to arrive at the competition’s grounds.

The slight jostling of their landing pulls him out of the stupor that he’d quickly fallen into. Hind hooves stretching up nearly to her withers, the young alicorn squeezes the elder’s neck and head against himself in a tight embrace punctuated with a nuzzle of his cheek against her chin. “Showtime,” he begrudgingly sighs, releasing her so they can prepare to disembark.

The three spend a few seconds ensuring their coats are flawless and that manes, tails, and feathers have not been unduly made a mess of. The single step thuds down and the door swings open to reveal bleachers full of ponies rising to their hooves. Conversation halts, heads duck into respectful bows, and soldiers come to attention as Celestia strolls out, wings splayed high in what Cure has dubbed the Alicorn Strut.

Cure and Amethyst follow in her wake, immediately noting a shift in the demographics of the ponies in attendance. An amused smirk graces the princess’s muzzle when she glances back at the pair as they take in the stands that, for the past few days, had been somewhat barren. Scores of young female pegasi, bat ponies, hippogriffs, and even a few griffons spread their wings in a curtsey for the young prince, their eyes locked on to him like prey tracking a delicious morsel.

“Maker help me,” he quietly prays, his eyes eagerly drinking in the glorious greeting. Doing his best to keep the wide grin from his face, Cure follows on the princess’s tail, head on a swivel as they make their way to the top. A nudge from his mom keeps him moving every time his pace slows and, within a moment, the three finally reach their places where they turn to face the crowd.

“Good morning, my little ponies,” Celestia greets with a small nod as her wings fold down on her sides and back. Everypony relaxes and returns the greeting, retaking their seats though not taking their eyes off their prince as he remains standing to her left.

“Good morning, everypony!” Cure calls out, waving a gold clad hoof to the crowd. “I have to say, I hadn’t expected so many other foals would be as eager as I am to get up early on a Friday morning. I am proud that the youths of my generation have come out in such numbers to show their appreciation for the ponies that put themselves between us and danger every day to maintain the peace that we enjoy.” He dips his head in gratitude and looks towards the colonel and his staff, silently ordering for the day’s events to proceed.

There is an air of confusion lingering over the crowd as the first two squads begin marching out onto the field, both clad in armor bearing the shield and windmill symbols indicating they are from Manehattan.

“Very subtle, colt,” Amethyst quietly compliments, softly laughing at the hushed conversations filling the stands.

“I figure that as long as I don’t acknowledge it I can eventually put a halt to this kind of crap,” he grumbles under his breath. “Slowly, over time, at least. I’m not going to spend the next however many years having everyfilly, or mare, with a set of wings waving them in my face. As lovely as it sounds, even that will get old in no time at all.”

Celestia agrees with a shallow nod. “Unfortunate as it is, I do not expect most to be discouraged quite so easily. I have no doubt that many parents will do little to dissuade their daughters from trying to catch your eye. Perhaps in the future you should discuss public statements either with myself or castle staff before relaying them to the media.”

“Yeah,” he sighs, defeat and disappointment creeping into his features. “I guess I should have known better than to just answer the questions without considering how ponies would react. Hopefully they pay just as much attention to the rest of what I said and don’t just focus on that one sentence.”

“I ain’t so sure that’s gonna happen,” Amethyst argues. “The fact that yer a huge nerd don’t sell as many papers as speculatin over yer love life does. Havin only gone on a date with the pegasi don’t help there, either.”

“So… should I start going out with the others to be seen in public with different tribes?”

“I am not sure that is a solution,” Celestia disagrees. “If anything, I would suggest you avoid the subject of who is courting you altogether. It may do little to stifle speculation, but perhaps, over time, it may cease being such a popular topic for ponies who like to gossip.”

“Princess’s probably right, colt. It was you takin the fillies out what really got ponies talkin anyhow. Bein seen more with ‘em prolly ain’t gonna help.”

“No,” he solemnly agrees, “I guess not. It’s not a huge problem. Whenever I’ve talked to the girls I made a point of that being an issue, so for the most part they’re all onboard with only going out in civvies anyhow.”

They watch as each squad steps forward to get geared up by the engineers with safety equipment as carts laden with weapons and shields are brought out for them to choose from. While they are being taken care of, a lieutenant trots out to the center and begins to explain the exercise.

Cure notices that the same beams that were used on the first day are once again laid out on the field, though instead of four squares there are two, each one twice as large. In the center of each is a plain, two story wooden building that looks like it has been slapped together overnight. A few crystals are affixed to their outside walls visible from the stands.

“Each year for the Competition, a different scenario is selected at random based on events that have happened before. Squads are challenged to use the assets that they would have at their disposal to assess the situation, determine a plan of action, and execute it. The goal is to subdue the aggressors while ensuring the safety of the innocents on the premise.

“In today’s scenario we look back to the end of the shipping riots in New Horseleans in 783 AB. Ponies upset about an economic slowdown gathered to protest diminishing wages,” he explains. “Unfortunately, extremists within their ranks turned to violence when a timely solution could not be found. Captain Foster responded promptly, restoring order to the docks, but several of the agitators fled to a nearby home and hid behind its residents.

“When negotiations failed to show progress, Captain Foster ordered her ponies to storm in and retrieve the suspects using minimal force. The perpetrators surrendered with no casualties, but I’m afraid that the simulated enemies in today’s exercise may be slightly less cooperative. Squads from the same city will go at the same time, and other cities’ squads will be kept in the dark until it is their turn.”

The crystals on each building flashes blue and an illusion settles across the field, altering the buildings’ unfinished appearances to that of a pair of typical houses. The first couple meters are stone leading to an open porch with a wide double door surrounded with light blue wooden siding. A narrow balcony wraps around the top level with a door flanked on either side with large windows. Curtains and blinds block everypony’s view from the outside.

When each team steps into their grid a solid opaque barrier blocks their sight from each other. They each spend a moment discussing how to approach the building. The team on the left splits into three groups of four; two each made up of earth ponies and unicorns while the fliers take to the upper balcony.

“How the hay does that whole thing work?” he asks, waving towards the illusion. “I thought crystals couldn’t store data, so how is the Illusion being maintained?”

“From the technician’s tents,” Celestia answers, pointing to the far end of the bleachers. “Multiple squads of engineers are responsible for the movement of the illusory ponies participating while others ensure that the house, its furnishings, and its surfaces all behave as one should expect. The latter is cast through a ritual that greatly reduces the strain on the individual ponies while allowing them to react to changes in the environment more quickly. Glass will shatter, wood will break, metal will dent, so forth and so on as one would expect to happen in real life.

“Teams will alternate every few hours so that nopony exhausts themselves too much. As you can imagine, maintaining the spell for very long can become quite challenging, even with assistance from others.”

“Huh. Neat.”

Conversation halts as the teams prepare for their assault. Only able to see the front of the building, Cure watches as an earth pony mare brings her shield up and looks over her withers at her sergeant. The stallion’s horn glows yellow for a moment in what Cure suspects is a signal and he gives his shield bearer a nod. The door explodes inward as she rams through. Cure can barely make out that she continues barreling into the house, breaking off to the left while the other earth pony, her shield held high as well, splits off to the right. The lead pegasus on the balcony jams a dagger through the door’s lock, recoiling away when a blue bolt fires through the broken frame. The blast draws gasps from the crowd who instinctively duck, even though it dissipates into nothing when it crosses the barrier that the beams make up.

The guards on the bottom floor seem to be successfully making their way through the building; the beams of fire from the second level cut off after only a couple shots. The pegasi don’t hesitate to take the opening, diving through the destroyed door with blunted wingblades and batons at the ready. The sound of crashes and breaking wood can be heard and an occasional body can be seen being thrown around the inside until finally, all of the action seems to come to a sudden halt.

The other Manehattan squad follows the same basic procedure, though they had the pegasi draw attention to the top floor first by banging on the windows. It’s impossible to tell from his vantage whether the distraction made any difference; the earth ponies in the lead still blast through the doors, providing cover to the unicorns that go in with horns blazing. Within a moment of each other, both squads are escorting out four illusory perpetrators and a family of six civilians.

Cure leans closer to Celestia and, out of the corner of his muzzle, quietly whispers, “That… was not very impressive, boss. I would be just as scared at the prospect of their rescue attempts as I would be at most hostage takers, to be honest.”

A quick flash of her horn and the box is surrounded in an invisible Sound Bubble. “I did not notice anything wrong with their approach. The hostages are safe, the protesters are under arrest, and aside from a few minor injuries,” she points out, motioning to the few glowing red crystals in the guards’ armor, “everypony emerged unharmed.”

“Yeah, this time. With a few changes and some new tactics, a few new pieces of gear? That whole thing?” he asks, waving at the field, “It could have been accomplished in a few seconds with minimal risk to the victims and no risk to the guards executing it.”

“And the perpetrators?” she asks, tone betraying what kind of answer she expects.

“Unharmed,” he insists. “Especially compared to somepony that takes a shield, hammer, baton, or even an armored hoof to the face. Tell me… how often does stuff like this happen? I mean, this scenario happened what… a hundred and twenty five years ago, so I’m guessing this isn’t an every other weekend type of thing.”

“Hostage situations? Very seldomly, and I cannot recall the last time I heard of one ending in violence.”

“What about standoffs in general? Ones where somepony barricades themselves in somewhere even without hostages?”

“Not… often,” she slowly answers. The princess crosses her forelegs in front of her and takes a deep breath. “Every so often a disturbed pony will make a mistake and get themselves into an unfortunate situation, but a few words of reassurance that the pony has not been abandoned are almost always more than enough to remind them that there is still hope.” She pauses and inclines her muzzle towards the simulations, adding, “Of course, that would not make for a very entertaining competition event.”

“No, I suppose it wouldn’t,” he flatly agrees. “Then again, with how huggy most of your little ponies are, they would probably rather watch your guards cuddling the rioters into submissions instead of arresting them.”

A sonorous laugh escapes the princess as she bobs her head in acknowledgement. “It is funny you should mention that!” she declares, voice full of amusement. “That is the only way a squad can achieve full marks!”

Cure and his mother both snort, failing to hold in their laughter.

“Just out of curiosity,” Celestia eventually begins, “what would you propose be done differently?”

“Oh, that’s easy!” he insists, scooting closer to lean against her foreleg. The mare doesn’t pass on the opportunity to scoop him up and settle him onto her pillow, refolding her legs to cross against his chest. Cure doesn’t even bother putting up a token resistance, happily snuggling his booty against her warm fur and wrapping his wings around her legs to squeeze them to his sides.

The two royals showing such affection draws a myriad of reactions from the crowd. The fillies that have stuck around despite him paying them little attention seem more interested in the display than most, either out of envy for one or both of their positions or, like many mares, are more interested in gushing at the dangerous levels of adorableness on display.

The few stallions that pay them more than a moment’s notice seem curious more than anything; a surprise given Cure would have expected them to have a similar envious reaction to the foals. Then again, he ponders, a lot of ponies - his sire included - are intimidated by the ancient mare, either due to her physical size, her beauty, her power, or that of her position.

Of course, there is no shortage of ponies seemingly looking on in approval, a facet of society that part of Cure will always struggle to wrap his head around. He can only imagine what would happen if a human monarch or president attending an official function scooped up even a good friend’s prepubescent daughter and started snuggling with them in an intimate embrace, even if from all appearances it were completely innocent and platonic. A man would be all but burned at the stake by the media and even a woman would be asked some very pointed questions.

The biggest reaction comes from a completely expected source. The cameraponies working the event nearly burst with excitement at the sight, burning through their film almost as quickly as Celestia herself could achieve with one of her solar attacks. He hadn’t really considered it before, but with so many camera lenses pointed in his direction, it occurs to him that this may be the first time that he and Celestia have ever been truly cuddly with each other out in public. Sure, they hugged during his coronation, and he’s always been close to her, but he can’t immediately think of a time when the media would have had an opportunity to see the two interacting so candidly aside from the first morning of the competition, during which the two got in a rather heated argument.

Casting aside the errant thoughts, Cure begins his evaluation of the Manehattan team’s performance, continuing on while the next city’s squads are brought out to be prepared for their attacks. “The first thing I noticed was that there wasn’t any attempt to determine who was in the house or where they were. Given how they’re keeping the other squads from being able to watch, I can only assume that they’re either going in mostly blind or are only being given a quick brief while they’re suited up.”

“They are told to expect resistance from multiple aggressors,” she explains. “The specific tribes and numbers are their responsibility to determine.”

“And I’m sure you would agree that if there are three earth ponies and a hippogriff or griffon in there that you’d do something different than if there are four unicorns instead, right?”

“That… would make sense. Guard doctrine generally emphasizes the need for a quick strike with overwhelming force once negotiations have failed to yield results.”

“So quick you wouldn’t even bother figuring out who or how many, though?”

Celestia tilts her head from side to side, ultimately nodding in acceptance. “I suppose if you could quickly ascertain that information, it would give you a significant advantage.”

Cure scoffs and gives a mirthless laugh, looking up at the underside of the mare’s neck. “Ya think?!” he snarks, earning a light scowl from her. “Seriously, though… I know that most scrying spells are a lot easier to cast on outdoor targets -”

“And are easily detected inside of buildings because of the impact they have on natural magic currents.”

“... right, there’s that,” he agrees with a cringe. “It would be kinda like tossing a bolder in a still pond, huh?”

“Indeed it would.”

“So what about something that would let the caster see through the walls. Or, even easier, use some kind of Shaping spell to pierce the wall so a unicorn can ‘see’ inside with their aura.”

“Which would alert any unicorns inside the building when a hole to the outside of the home suddenly appears and, again, cause a - granted, smaller than scrying - shift in the interior’s currents.”

Cure quietly curses, nodding in acceptance. “Okay, fair enough. What about some kind of device that could slowly, quietly eat through the wall to see inside that would prevent anypony in there from seeing out? Or, again, a spell? I haven’t seen one that lets you see through walls, but I have to imagine such a spell exists.”

“None that are not restricted or outright banned. I know of a spell using dark magics that will allow the caster to see directly through a wall, but that is clearly not something that would ever be allowed.”

“Fair. I bet there’s a way to use an Illusion spell to produce sound waves that will penetrate the walls, then display the results visually somehow, but… that sounds needlessly complex. I kinda keep going back to my ‘burrow through the walls’ idea. Or the floor.” He pauses in consideration for a moment before suddenly lighting up. “OR! Better yet - what about something like my surgical plant that can be stuck on the windows? I could modify the sensor to detect heat signatures or maybe even a focused horn aura to allow casting. Imagine being able to just suddenly Teleport the home invaders out into the middle of a waiting squad.

“Wait,” he pauses, tilting his head in consideration, “could you even Teleport them? I mean, there’s not a physical pony in there; just Illusions, right? I mean, it worked when it was cast in the arenas a few days ago, but...”

“You cannot Teleport an Illusion. The spell only works on physical objects. Those ponies were teleporting themselves, and the Illusion that their opponent fought would not actually teleport; it merely stopped existing in one spot and appeared in another the same as when the competitor first entered the arena.”

The colt’s jaw falls open for a split second as a tendril of existential dread worms its way up his spine. “Is… is that what happens when you Teleport?!” The sharp inhale from his mother tells him he’s not the only one to jump to a worrying conclusion. “It always felt more like stepping sideways than… you know.”

Slowly shaking her head no, Celestia explains, “That question was answered millennia ago. Seeking a way to do lasting damage to a less strictly-corporeal nuisance -”

“The asshole?”

“... yes. Him,” she sighs, earning a quiet chuckle from Amethyst. “As I was saying, while seeking a way of harming him in a more permanent fashion, several ponies worked to develop spells that do not attack the physical part of a being, but instead sought to harm or destroy a target’s very essence.

“From what I read when I was a filly -”

“Musta been on stone tablets,” he interrupts in a whisper.

Celestia’s forelegs squeeze much tighter for a brief second before she continues, “- even the most brilliant minds were only able to find a way to perceive the tiniest portion of another creature’s noncorporeal existence. Seeking to answer the very same question, ponies were observed both before and during Teleportation. While the movement from one spot to another is instantaneous, there is little doubt that movement does indeed occur rather than the wholesale destruction and recreation of the spell’s subject. After all, as I answered before, Teleport only moves the physical. The spirit follows because the two are bound together.”

“So… has anypony ever had something go wrong with a Teleport and ended up with… oh, I dunno… the teleport getting interrupted and the original staying put while a second pony suddenly popped into existence where they were Teleporting to? Cause that was totally a thing that happened in this one story, and, as is always the case, number two eventually turned evil. Or, at least, he became an absolute prick.”

“I am unaware of any such thing ever happening, nor can I fathom what circumstances could even potentially result in that.”

“Good,” he replies, tense muscles finally relaxing.

“As to your initial question about using Teleport in this exercise, even if they could Teleport an Illusion, you must keep in mind that the majority of ponies are not capable of casting the spell with adequate speed and precision, especially against a moving target. I suppose if you made a device capable of decreasing casting time and enhancing their ability to detect ponies to that degree then it would be effective, but for an eventuality that happens so infrequently it would largely be a waste.”

Cure’s ears droop and he huffs in annoyance. “Fine! I guess it’s not a huge flaming issue here, but I would still at least suggest a variety of crystals be made available to your teams. The casting is essentially instant, so it's just a matter of proper targeting assuming the opponent is not shielded. Even if it’s just one designated ‘high risk’ team in each city, there should be some kind of special weapons and tactics group ready to respond to things normal guards aren’t trained to deal with.”

“But there are,” she argues. “Every city or their nearby fort will have at least a few squads of specialists ready to respond to a crisis. The paladins that deployed to Baltimare are a perfect example. The policing forces in larger cities will also typically have specialized squads or departments to deal with their unique challenges as well. Even if some are… less effective than I would prefer,” she admits with a slight cringe.

“Chicoltgo?”

“Chicoltgo,” she agrees, blowing out a sigh of disappointment.

“So what’s going on in Chicoltgo that makes it so different? I only know it has problems because my parents mentioned it once.”

“Corruption has seeped into the city’s leadership so deep that I would not even know how to begin to purge the rot. Business leaders, government employees, labor unions… even some members of the guard, I suspect. Unfortunately, every attempt I have made to clean it up has yielded little in the way of real results. Sure, a convenient scapegoat is sacrificed when an audit or investigation is conducted, but it feels like the instant I turn my attention away ‘business as usual’ resumes.”

“Hrm. Yeah, I guess some things are a universal constant,” he wryly remarks. “So what are talking about here? Gross misappropriation of funds? Racketeering? Some kind of organized crime?”

“Yes, yes, and yes. The latest scandal came to light only a few years back. A bridge restoration project was awarded to a company that submitted the lowest bid, as is customary once a review of the company determined that they were capable of fulfilling the requirements. The three bridges were completed timely - barely - and, according to the initial analysis, were done according to code. It was only a couple years later that unusual cracks began to appear on the substructures. An engineering team was dispatched to determine the cause of the unexpected wear.”

“Let me guess. Substandard construction materials?”

“Indeed. Now, normally such an attempt would have been detected before construction even began, but the deception went well beyond the construction company itself. Fraudulent documentation, falsified invoices, manufactured quality reviews… Every precaution meant to stop such an occurrence was somehow neatly sidestepped. When the investigation concluded, all hooves pointed towards the project manager as being the primary perpetrator. As if one single pony could have orchestrated the whole thing,” she scoffs in disbelief. “When Mr. Weathered Stone was ultimately ordered to appear to explain his actions, it was his widow that showed up in his stead.”

“They… killed the dude?”

The mare scoffs again, shaking her head. “Not unless they used a time travel spell to give him a heart attack. He had been dead for three years before the project even began. Somehow, all of his licenses and certifications had been maintained despite his passing without his wife's knowledge. An investigation into how that might have occurred resulted in yet another round of hoofpointing between a half dozen departments within city hall.”

“And… you didn’t go after the mayor?”

“Every indication is that the mayor’s office followed protocol throughout the project. As much as I suspect somepony,” she nearly growls, “had a horn in the whole affair, suspecting and proving are two very different things.”

“Huh. So, in other words, y’all need to revamp your administrative checks and balances.”

“Which has been done before. Many times. To little effect in that blasted city.”

A beat of silence passes as they watch the Salt Lick City squads wrap up their attempt. One of the illusory hostages - a pegasus stallion - is being carried out on an earth pony guard’s back. It is unclear if that happened because the guards mistook him for one of the perpetrators or if he was injured by the hostage takers themselves. Either way, Cure is pretty confident that it’s going to cost them some points when their performance is evaluated.

“So… have you ever considered coming down on the government like a flaming hammer and replacing the whole lot of them?”

“Again, many times,” she sighs. “Marchioness Manesota has been tasked with directly overseeing any project with expenses exceeding ten million bits. Countess Daily was… is unhappy with the arrangement, but I cannot find it in myself to feel sympathy given how much it cost to re-re-build those bridges.”

“Why not replace her? I mean, it’s not like anypony could stop you.”

“I try not to infringe overmuch upon the responsibilities of the ponies beneath me. Of course, if there is proof of malfeasance then I will not hesitate to take action, but with no proof,” she shrugs. “All I can do, without becoming a tyrant, is ensure that sufficient oversight be put in place to prevent a repeated performance.”

“Huh. They’re lucky they have you, boss. I woulda come down on them like a whole freakin sack of hammers. That kinda crap is exactly why I hate payin taxes so much. I work, I give up my time to earn money, then somepony abuses the system to reach inta my pocket, take what they want, and piss it away? Uh-uh,” he vehemently denies, slowly shaking his head. “If they think yer a tyrant for firing ‘em they’d be goin full code brown when they see what I’d do to ‘em.”

“Sounds ta me like ya ought’a send the colt up ta Chicoltgo for a couple years,” Amethyst lightly jests.

Quietly snickering at the imagined results, Celestia bobs her head in agreement. “I suspect they would happily accept my more stringent requirements for additional funding, would they not?”

“Damn right they would,” Cure enthusiastically agrees. “I’d even give you a good discount for my services, boss. BodyWorks Enterprises is officially branching out into government consulting and independent auditing. Not exactly the line of work you’d expect from a cosmetic alteration business, but hey… I like to think of myself as a stallion of many talents.”

“Mmhmm,” his mom hums in agreement. Reaching over to nudge Celestia’s right foreleg, she adds, “Just don’t be surprised if a few ‘a them ponies responsible mysteriously disappear, princess.”

“Very mysssteriousssly,” Cure seconds with an unsettling hiss creeping into his voice.

“As tempting as that may be, I do not think such extreme measures are warranted.” Muzzle wrinkled in consideration, she belatedly adds a quiet, “Yet.”

“Well whenever you decide you’re done playin nice just let me know. Also, if you do want me to put together something for your guards to use - like my swarms, for example - just say the word. I may not have besieged a house before, but I have enough memories of how to properly do it.”

“Oh? You have not previously mentioned having any law enforcement experience.”

A laugh bursts out from the colt’s muzzle before he has a chance to stop it. “No, no… not even close. At least, none in real life. I do, however, have literally thousands of hours of simulated experience and maker-knows how much time seeing it done second hoof. Which… probably doesn’t really equate to much in real life, granted, but I feel like I could resolve this little kerfuffle in under a minute just by myself, even without any puppets.”

“That ain’t a fair standard ta use, colt. Most ponies don’t have a dozen venomous darts linin their throat or feathers what can cut through wood like butter.”

Celestia’s gaze slowly pans down to the colt snuggled beneath her throat.

“Ix-nay on the ‘enom-ay, ma!” he quietly growls to his right. Eyes flicking up to meet the princess’s, he quickly averts his gaze from her judgemental look. “Heh… I don’t know what she’s talking about.”

“Hmhmm,” she flatly hums, making no effort to hide her doubt. “Tell me, Serpentus… exactly how many different ways do you have on you right now to deliver a venom of some kind?”

“What?!” he gasps in mock outrage. “Why would I need any?” His wings tighten around her forelegs in a soft, feathery hug as he continues, “I mean, I am literally in the safest place on the planet, right here, snuggled against my beloved princess’s warm, fluffy chest. The very implication that I would have anything ready to be used is borderline insul-”

“Cure.”

The colt freezes mid sentence at the princess’s single word command. His ears droop pathetically against the sides of his face as he looks up to meet her gaze with big, watery eyes and a quivering bottom lip.

“That does not work on me, young stallion.”

“Fiiine!” he petulantly whines. “I might have one or two ways,” he drifts off at her continued doubtful stare. “Or like… nineish, maybe. But hey, don’t blame me for being cautious. You can never be too safe. I mean, take that bird over there, for instance,” he insists, pointing at a seemingly random robin flying overhead.

Both mares look up to follow his outstretched wingtip as the bird suddenly comes to a midair halt. “Is it a typical, innocent robin or disguised master assassin just waiting for the right time to strike? There's no harm in being ready, just in case.” With one wing still flapping, the robin looks down to meet the princess’s eyes and slowly drags the other wing’s edge across its throat before pointing to the group, then taking off in a sudden hurry.

“Good job, you two,” he huffs in annoyance. “Now it knows we’re on to it. It’ll be more careful next time, just you watch.”

Chapter 118: Competition Celebration

Friday, September 11th, 909 AB (that evening)

“All I’m sayin is that it’s a waste ‘a time and effort,” the colt quietly grumbles, flying sideways in a hover next to the princess’s neck as they make their way through the castle. The group has returned after the event’s closing speech and enjoyed a quiet, private dinner. It was a lighter meal only meant to hold them over until the evening supper is served.

“Just tell me what ya want and give me thirty seconds. I’ll have us all lookin picture perfect before you even finish your sentence. I mean, hay, makin ponies beautiful is what I friggin do for a living, ya know?”

Celestia sighs deeply and gives him a look of exasperation. “I am very much aware of your capabilities, Cure. While I have little doubt in your ability to suitably impress, these ponies have decades of experience helping me prepare for events such as tonight’s.”

“I get that, really!” he insists, forehooves held up in surrender. “You’ve got ponies you trust to do their best at makin you presentable!” he agrees, smirking at the weak glare sent his way. “All I’m sayin is I could do basically the same thing in a fraction of the time. After all, they barely touched me up at all before my coronation, and I didn’t hear any complaints from anypony.”

“Complaints?” she asks followed by a bitter chuckle. “No. There were no complaints, per se.” Accusingly, she adds, “Just a bevy of unusual and awkward questions along with numerous newspaper articles insisting nopony attempts to photograph a foal inappropriately.”

Forelegs folded across his chest, the colt huffs in annoyance. “Not my fault ponies are a bunch’a perverts.”

“Cure,” she pleadingly begins, “I feel as if I do not ask terribly much of you -”

A snorted laugh is quickly smothered by the colt’s right fetlock.

“- which can be remedied at any time,” she all but growls, causing the colt to shake his head so fast his flight briefly wobbles, “but I would ask that you please, please, listen to the professionals and, if you can manage it, try to enjoy a bit of pampering for what it is worth. It has been a very long week… a very long two weeks,” she amends, earning a mild pout, “and I could use some relaxation before the evening begins. Let the beauticians do their job and I am sure you will find the experience more pleasant than you expect.”

“Yeah, shut yer trap, colt. ‘S been a minute since I got me a good groomin, an’ as much as yer massage plants and whatnot are nice 'n all I still miss bein primped on. Bad enough I gotta spend two weeks in a different coat; least you can do is let me enjoy a royal makeover.”

“Alright! Jeez! I be good, I promise! I don’t know what the big deal is, though. I was pretty disappointed with the experience when I took the girls to the spa back on Hearts and Hooves day.” Head tilted in consideration, he adds, “Of course I figure that may have been because of the subdermal armor.”

Celestia’s pace slows briefly as she processes that information. “You… had armor under your skin? When you went to a spa of all things?”

“Changelings, boss,” Cure offers as if that answers as if it’s the most obvious thing in the world. “Depending on how they feed, a spa could be a great place for them to set up shop. Think about it; barring a few exceptions, everypony that walks through the door is going to be in a pretty good mood, right?” Not waiting for a response, he continues, “Assuming they can feed off happiness in addition to love they should have themselves a decent food source that hangs around for hours. If feeding makes the victim sleepy, then that’s not a problem either; going to the spa is relaxing enough that nopony would bat an eye at being drowsy afterwards.”

As if talking to a simpleton, she slowly asks, “You thought there may have been changelings at the spa?”

Wings refolding by his sides, Cure lands smoothly in a canter. “I considered it a possibility. Keep in mind that I didn’t have the capabilities back then that I do now. I was still more-or-less a typical earth pony at the time. The only advantage I would have had were the crystals I was carrying, and who knows if a changeling’s physiology is similar enough that a Stun spell would even work.”

“It worked against them during the invasion,” Celestia calmly explains.

“You took prisoners?”

“No, but Stun can be cast rather quickly and, even at low power, will significantly hinder an opponent regardless of where it hits. Ponies, even trained soldiers, also tend to hesitate far less when they know they are not killing their opponent.”

“Understandable,” Cure agrees, knowing that he’d heard things about soldiers back on earth.

I presume you are currently protected in a similar manner as you were during your spa trip?”

Cure scoffs and rolls his eyes. “Duh, boss. Never leave home without it.”

“Don’t be offended, princess,” his mom interjects. “He says that, but truth is he never takes it off at home, neither.”

“Very well,” Celestia accepts with a look of slight disappointment. “Then I would ask that for tonight or at least until they are done working on us,” she rushes out when he begins to open his muzzle to object, “you remove your armor and allow yourself to enjoy the ministrations of the ponies that are helping us to prepare.”

The colt’s snout crinkles in consternation even though he knows, logically speaking, he has no reason to be concerned, but it was only earlier the same morning that he had woken up to an undead predator trying to sniff him out. The pleading look Celestia gives him weakens his resolve. His eyes flick forward, then over his withers at the two sets of Royal Guards escorting the pair.

He briefly weighs the odds that some of all of them could have been subverted or replaced, or that Celestia has been compromised somehow. He dismisses the idea only seconds later, recognizing that the notion is absurd given that he has been in her presence almost non-stop since he woke her up that very morning. Cure realizes he hasn't responded for at least a few seconds when Celestia slows her pace and regards him. Disappointment, concern, and a hint of genuine hurt all show in the mare’s expression.

Hoping to explain away the moment of awkward silence, Cure rushes to assure her, “Sure, I'm working on it now. It's been a moment, so I had to sort out the best way to make it happen.”

She responds with a brilliant smile, unaware of the look Amethyst is giving him from her other side. Neck lowered for Cure to see her beneath Celestia’s barrel, the mare cocks her head and raises both brows, all but screaming her disbelief to the world. As soon as the ancient alicorn resumes looking forward, the colt shoots his mom a glare even if it lacks any real heat.

The last few moments of their march happen in relative quiet with the only sound being the mixture of hooffalls on the Royal Hall’s tiled floors. Cure and the pegasi guards with their lighter frames clip-clop more quickly with their shorter strides while the earth ponies and Celestia herself clomp more heavily at a slower pace. Unclad as she is, Amethyst's steps are somewhat muted, sounding more like wood softly thumping steadily along past both alicorns’ apartments.

Situated just beside Celestia’s suite is a room Cure has mentally labeled as her private bathing room, though he suspects it has a more officious name like boudoir, spa, or maybe just salon. The wall that butts up against Celestia’s private bathroom has a pair of large, open shower stalls with glass separators in-between them. Three shower heads attached to hoses hang on each of the walls and a raised, cushioned platform sits in the middle with grated drains surrounding it on all four sides on the floor.

Closer to the palace’s exterior wall is another pair of stations meant for drying. Dozens of towels are folded up neatly on the lower shelves against the walls while large blowers, brushes, oils, files, and other grooming instruments are laid out on the shelves’ tops awaiting use. Unlike the showers, there is no bench for anypony to lay on, but the cubby Cure assumes is there for him does have a solid platform to give the stylists more easy access to his undercarriage.

The opposite side of the room looks more like a traditional groomer’s station. Just like the drying area, dozens of implements are laid out at the ready, but it is also half surrounded by large mirrors and much more illumination with another raised, cushioned platform for a pony to lay on while the beauticians do their work. A single doorway leads to a wardrobe area, but Cure can’t see around the corner to peek into Celestia’s closet.

Cure looks over the setup and the dozen ponies standing by at the ready, each one standing at attention with their heads bowed to show the proper respect. “Greetings your majesties!” they cheerfully exclaim all at once. It always strikes Cure as odd how happy ponies seem to be even when they are at work.

He wouldn’t expect somepony given the job of royal beautician to be grumpy, but every sense he has indicates that each mare is genuinely thrilled at the opportunity to work on the alicorns. Unbidden, the possibility of special talent shenanigans comes to mind as he considers his own situation.

He makes a mental note to pay attention whether he becomes bored or burned out after doing his job for a couple years. If he’s anything like the princess then there’s a good chance he’ll never experience such fatigue. Whether that’s a good thing or not, he isn’t sure. As unhappy as he may be with anything influencing his feelings, he at least recognizes that any responsible entity may also be the reason for his existence.

After exchanging greetings with the eager stylists, Celestia sheds her shoes and regalia motioning for Cure to do the same. “Ladies,” the elder alicorn calls, getting everypony’s attention, “young Serpentus and Lady Minerva must look their absolute best tonight. I leave them in your capable hooves.”

Knowing escape, while certainly possible, would not be the optimal solution, Cure shrugs his wings, reaches up to his collar, and tantalizingly slowly unzips his golden flight suit. In a teasing tone, he calls out to the group, “Make me fabulous, my dears. It shouldn’t be too challenging,” he says, pausing as he kicks off his suit with his hind leg, “after all, the maker gave you a magnificent place to start.”

Giggles and titters erupt from the mares, yet, for some bizarre reason, neither Amethyst or Celestia seem suitably impressed. While Celestia is being taken to her own private stall, the smaller two ponies are ushered to the other. “Go ahead, momma. I won't take very long to get ready.”

“Uh-uh, Colt. Them wings of yers'll take a whole lot longer than anything I got. Go on,” she shooes with her right forehoof, “I don't mind waitin my turn.”

“Come along, your highness,” a pegasus mare urges him on. “Climb on up and we’ll get you allllll taken care of!”

Completely unperturbed with the gaggle of excited mares, Cute follows along and, with a little flap, hops up on the platform. Standing there being bathed by a hoofful of mares is slightly more bizarre than when it's done by a single one first thing in the morning, but after a year of readjusting his behavior to what is expected in pony society, even hiking a hind leg while a mare scrubs his junk is only unusual because of the number of onlookers.

Fortunately, everypony in the room behaves exactly as they should at seeing the Royal Weiner. No uncomfortable twitters or giggles sound out, and aside from a few curious side-eye glances wondering what an alicorn penis looks like, nopony behaves any differently than Cure would expect at the hospital.

Thanks to his cheating talent and relatively small stature, it doesn't take a lot of work to get him cleaned up. Well before the other team finishes with Celestia, he is wrapped in a single towel and herded down to the drying area. He isn't sure why they don't just do everything in one spot; there's no electricity that would make it a danger. Rather than point out what seems to him an odd design choice, the young alicorn chooses to play along instead.

The next step he goes through is actually somewhat amusing. He knows that even with his armor gone his earth pony constitution alone would make him hard to injure, but the mares working to dry him off treat him like some kind of fragile porcelain while they are working. Towels Warmed with cantrips are gently wrapped around him, and opposed to the quick, rough wiping he is accustomed to, they gingerly dab and knead the water from his feathers and coat. He does his part to help, absorbing the water through his skin, and it only takes a few moments before he’s escorted to the final stations of his trip around the room.

He hops up on the brightly illuminated platform, chest thrust out and wings splayed up high. The stylists circle around him exchanging ideas and taking notes before coming to some kind of agreement. They descend upon him with shears and brushes at the ready, meanwhile a bright red unicorn approaches him with what looks like a toothbrush while staring fixedly at his horn. Another lifts his right forehoof and sets it on a block, file and polish floating in her aura.

Only thanks to his enhanced senses is he able to follow the flurry of activity going on around him. Every millimeter of the foal from snout to tail is gone over with a fine toothed comb. Every feather is combed and oiled to perfection, his hooves and horn are polished to the point of nearly shining, and not an errant strand of fur is allowed to end up out of place.

The experience is positively euphoric to the point he has to force himself to focus on Madame Adiah's stall to keep from drifting off to sleep. The gentle scraping of his horn alone sends delightful vibrations straight into his brain, and as nice as the preening that Drift and Glacial gave him was, they can hardly hold a candle to the combined attention from a pair of professional preeners.

He only comes back to full awareness several minutes later when he notices a wheeled wardrobe being carted out behind him. The doors are thrown open to reveal an entire lineup of foal-sized formalwear ready for him to try on. As his eyes pan over the array of shirts, jackets, pants and accessories, he can’t help but notice the eager grins on all the mares around him. Even Celestia, dried and in the stall beside him, is watching on with excitement painted across her features.

A lump forms in his throat as he finally recognizes the trap; one he waltzed into willingly without even knowing. The doll is surrounded. He’s cleaned, dried, groomed, and ready to be played with. Conveniently, a whole big box of accessories was just brought in and positioned between himself and the room’s only exit.

“Uhh… parlay?” he tries only to get a somewhat sinister round of laughter in return. “Ah… fudge me,” he sighs, sitting on his haunches. As dozens of articles of clothing begin levitating out of the wardrobe, the colt raises his forelegs in surrender. “Fine! I give up!” he declares, accepting the fate that has befallen him. “Just… be gentle?”

Shortly before sunset

The sounds of conversation and soft music seep through the door as the guests mingle and take advantage of the provided refreshments. As proper decorum demands, the most important guests cannot show up early, so the two royals and one royal-adjacent are, instead, awaiting the designated time in a nearby room playing a few games of chess.

Hailing from somewhere east of Saddle Arabia, the Equus version of the game is nearly identical to Earth’s, with the only changes being to the names of two of the pieces. While Cure incredulously expected the princess to be shoehorned into the whole affair, the king and queen pieces retain their traditional names; it is the bishop and rook pieces whose names are swapped for vizier and chariot, instead.

“Still don’t get why neither ‘a you are wearin nothin,” the colt grumbles under his breath.

Assuming she had literally centuries of experience with the game, Cure had never anticipated putting up any real challenge against her. At the same time, the casual ease with which she has dominated their matches is growing increasingly frustrating despite his best attempts to maintain the facade of indifference.

“I truthfully only wear anything for very special occasions. Not only has wearing one dress or another caused problems over the years, but I genuinely prefer to wear nothing if I have the choice. The same goes for jewelry and other accessories as well. There is no need for anything beyond my crown and peytral, so why bother wearing anything else?”

“Same here, colt. I’m good just how the maker made me. If if weren’t fer yer little stunt you wouldn’t hafta play dress-up neither.”

“Whatever,” he quietly grouses. “Still say it was funny. Your move, boss.”

With the board reset, Celestia begins by moving her king’s pawn out a couple places. Cure follows suit, stopping her pawn with his own. Still not deigning to look at the board, the princess lights her horn and moves the king vizier pawn out, almost as if offering it up for him to take. The colt pauses for a moment, all but certain it’s some kind of trap, but unable to spot what it may be. After a few second’s consideration he decides that it shouldn’t matter so early on in the game, and moves his king pawn to take her vizier’s.

With a coolly indifferent expression, Celestia lifts up her knight and places it in the way of his pawn, stopping it in place and preventing him from moving his queen in position to check her king. Hoping to protect his pawn or, eventually, force the knight away, Cure slides his knight’s pawn out to provide support. He briefly prays that Celestia goes after that pawn with her knight, but she obviously notices his queen lying in wait. Instead, the mare places her other knight out onto the center of the board in a move that thoroughly confuses him.

Now almost certain he’s already toast, he moves his knight pawn up to threaten Celestia’s knight, clearing a path for his queen to come out and check her king once the knight is removed. The mare hums in thought and moves her king knight again, placing it three spaces straight down from his king and threatening the pawn he had just moved. Thrilled to finally check the princess for the first time of the evening, Cure’s queen comes flying out to the edge of the board with a diagonal line straight to her king.

Trying his best to keep the joy out of his voice, Cure proudly calls out, “Check!” but his happily swishing tail betrays him. Chuckling at the sight, Celestia’s knight pawn moves forward to block his queen. Seeing an opportunity to maybe get another queen, Cure takes her pawn with the one that had originally been in front of his king. As soon as his hoof releases the pieces, Celestia’s queen comes trotting out to take the pawn just beside his queen, clearly intending to take it out.

He briefly considers taking her queen, but a knight is positioned to strike back. “I… am totally screwed, aren’t I?”

“Very likely, yes.”

“Colt, you were done ‘fore yer first move.”

“Yer not helpin, ma.”

“Oh, I know. Weren’t never my intent ta help,” she says with a devious laugh, earning a withering glare in return. “Don’t you go givin me them stares, little mister ‘I always have the answer for everything.’ I ain’t yer dam. I’ll come right over there and bop ya one if I gotta.”

Huffing as he turns away, Cure grouses as he looks over the board. “Gettin whooped by one mare while another one threatens me. Y’all stink.” Knowing he’s probably hosed, Cure considers sacrificing his queen to remove her own, but instead eyes his pawn that is only two spaces from the edge of the board. Knowing that his queen is lost, he figures he can get a new one while taking a chariot at the same time. He moves his pawn into position, wincing when his queen is taken, then blows out a sigh of relief when he gets her back on the next move while taking her chariot.

The princess moves her queen one spot closer to his side, which doesn’t seem to really give her any additional options. The move puts the piece on a diagonal with his king, but a pawn is in the way blocking a check. His eyes drift to the nearby knights, wondering if they are poised to strike, but with nearly all his pieces still trapped behind pawns he has few options to respond.

He can move his knight right by the queen to protect the pawn, but there’s nothing stopping her from taking it. His vizier is all but useless, blocking in his king, and his new queen is too far away to do anything to help.

“Mate in three moves,” the princess hums as he surveys the board looking for salvation. “Maybe four more at most,” Celestia gently teases.

“Nopony likes a sore winner!” he huffs, finally reaching for his vizier, moving it in front of the king to give it a little room to move.

So focused on the queen, Cure is thrown off when her knight moves instead to capture the pawn blocking her queen from checking him. It gives him the chance to move his knight to force her queen away, but that’s exactly what she wanted. Instead of retreating with her queen, Celestia’s knight moves down and to the left, putting his king in check from both the knight and the queen in one move.

“Check,” she gleefully announces, “and mate on the next turn.”

Sure enough, there are only two moves that he can make. He can move his king either left or right, escaping both checks at once, but either one will allow her queen to move directly by his king and still be protected by the knight at the same time. “This is bullhonk!” he declares, reaching his hoof out to knock over his king and ungracefully accepting defeat.

“Come now, Cure. You're better than that,” Celestia gently chides, stifling her laughter when he folds his forelegs across his chest. “Such foalish behavior,” she tisks, feigning disappointment. “What would your dam think if she were to see you right now?”

The colt scoffs and rolls his eyes, arguing, “She’d probably be disappointed in the princess she all but worships bein a big ‘ol bully!”

“I am not being a bully,” she patiently denies. “I am merely playing as I would against anypony else. You certainly would not appreciate it if I were to go easy on you, instead. Besides, passing the time with a game of chess was your idea, anyhow.”

“That doesn’t mean you hafta smug up the room whenever ya win!”

“I am not ‘smugging up’ anything! That is not even a word!”

Hoof thrust upwards into the air, Cure declares to the entire world, “I am a prince of Equestria! Smugging is a word if I say it’s a word!”

“And I am THE princess of Equestria!” she counters. “I say it is not, nor shall it ever be one!”

“Yeah, well, you’re not THE princess of the Ponish language! So there!”

“Unlike your questionable authority over the language, I would argue that I am, in fact, THE princess of the Ponish language! It was I who decided to go with the more modern language after the defeat of Discord. Luna’s foalhood books always romanticized more archaic ways of speaking to the point she refused to give it up even hundreds of years later.”

“I swear”, Amethyst interrupts with a snorted laugh, “y’all bicker like an old married couple. Behold, everypony!” she calls out to the heavens, “the almighty rulers of Equestria! Arguin over a board game like a couple’a little foals!”

“Oh please! Like yer any better! Besides, I am a foal! At least I am acting my age!”

“For once I complete agree. And I was not arguing,” the elder mare patiently disagrees. Snout haughtily raised into the air, she insists, “I was simply pointing out that Cure chose the game.” A beat passes and she adds, “And that he was incorrect, of course.”

Cure responds with a dismissive snort. “Whatever. Enjoy your win for now, lady,” he menacingly growls, jabbing a hoof at her chest. “I'll study up and whoop yer tail next time we play!”

Shocked at his impassioned assertion, Celestia cocks a brow and questions the colt, “Truly? You would really invest the time necessary over a silly game?”

“No,” he instantly denies with a scoff. “I got enough crap goin on, but if I just accepted the loss gracefully you probably would have thought a changeling had replaced me.”

A small chuckle escapes the mare as she casually points out, “While the very prospect of you being taken is certainly concerning, I cannot help but feel a deep well of sympathy for any would-be abductor.”

“Oh please, like I'm gonna be mean to ‘em. If there's even any changelings out there then the best thing they could do is come my way. I know what they are, I have a notion of what they've gone through, and I’d bet my bottom bit I could find some way to get their bodies nutrition without parasitic feeding. Enough about the love bugs. How much longer ‘till we can get on with this shindig?”

“I believe Duke Dresser was announced while you were pondering your surrender. The servants will be by to fetch us once he is settled.”

Amethyst chimes in with a smirk, “So ya got plenty ‘a time ta beat the colt a few more times, huh?”

“Oh, so you think you’d do better, huh?” Cure snarks back. “Feel free, ma,” he offers, rolling to his haunches and waving to the table in invitation. “Show us what you got.”

“Eh, I’ll pass,” she declines, flopping a hoof in the air. “Don’t wanna make ya feel any worse than ya already do.”

“How merciful of you,” the colt gruffly remarks. “So,” he begins, turning back to the princess, “is there a reason why your nephew and his git have avoided this whole event like the plague?”

“None that I am proud of,” she responds, annoyance creeping into her voice. “Unfortunately, my dear nephew does not have a very positive outlook on the Guard. Oh do not get me wrong; he understands their value and importance. He simply does not care enough to commit his time to recognizing their efforts.”

“That’s… kind of a shitty stance to have for somepony who has been second in line for the throne for a few decades.”

“I agree wholeheartedly. I would normally be concerned as well, but given the circumstances,” she says trailing off.

“Right, yeah, true enough. It's not like yer goin anywhere.”

“Go ahead an’ tell her why yer worried, colt,” Amethyst urges with a chuckle.

The colt rolls his eyes as Celestia looks curiously between them. “You’re not gonna embarrass me, ma. We,” he motions with a hoof between the princess and himself, “have talked about this plenty of times.” Turning fully to face the solar alicorn, he explains, “I had suggest that when you’re ready to have foals-”

Cure cuts off the sentence immediately when the door opens barely a hoof. A pale blue muzzle with a healthy ping glow pokes its way in and bright green eyes scan the room’s interior before settling on the princess. The door opens wider and an earth pony mare dips her head in a bow, ears pinned flat on her skull. “Apologies for interrupting, your majesties!” she quickly blurts out, shifting nervously from hoof to hoof. “The guests are prepared for your majesties’ entrance.”

Cure fights back a wince at being overheard, but otherwise manages to school his reaction. Amethyst doesn’t do quite as well, cheeks darkening at causing such a gaffe while turning away to hide it. The princess, fortunately, maintains her typical neutral appearance, though Cure does note a slight tick up in her temperature, especially on her face and neck. “We will be out in just a moment, Miss Holly,” she calmly responds in dismissal.

The mare takes the hint, backing out with another bow and pulling the door shut almost on her snout.

“Perhaps such discussions should be postponed until our privacy can be more guaranteed,” she lightly suggests. “As for your concern, however, I do not anticipate needing to rely on my nephew when the time arrives. Now, I believe we have kept our guests waiting long enough.”

“Yeah,” Cure quietly agrees, hopping down off of his seat.

“Worry not,” she assures him, attempting to allay his concern. “I would remind you, again, that castle staff know to be discreet, and that exact topic has been brought up in many a conversation already.” After pausing a beat she adds, “Though that may be the first time any of my servants had heard it from one of us. Regardless,” she draws a deep breath and briefly ruffles her wings, “let us put it out of our minds and enjoy the celebration.”

“Sure thing. So how are we doing this? We goin in order by rank? Horn length? Wingspan? Years of public service? Duration as an alicorn?” His head tilts to the side in consideration for a moment. “Reverse order by last letter of our names?”

Celestia blinks a couple times as she mentally evaluates his list, snorting a laugh when she realizes they’re all the same. “I believe we will go together, unless either of you object.”

Cure merely shakes his head while his mom shrugs and responds, “Works fer me, princess.”

The princess leads the three out of the room and down the hall, pausing briefly near the doors to the ballroom for the shorter colt to get in place. The music fades to silence and conversation soon does the same. A voice can be heard calling out, “Announcing Her Royal Majesty, Princess Celestia, His Highness, Prince Serpentus, and his highness’s mother, Lady Minerva!”

The sounds of bodies rushing to their hooves accompanies the door slowly opening, revealing a massive ballroom filled with uncountable thousands of ponies. Even after everything he witnessed during his own coronation, Cure is still amazed and awestruck by the grandeur of a legitimate royal event.

Heads and wings held high, the three stroll down the center of the room, gracing everypony with friendly smiles and acknowledging nods. As ponies begin to either salute or dip into bows Celestia laughs lightly and speaks up in a voice that carries all across the room. “Greetings, my little ponies! Please, rise and stand at ease! This is a celebration of your hard work, after all!”

She greets ponies by name and exchanges pleasantries as they make their way to the north end of the hall where the most important ponies are seated at a large, circular table; the event’s champions amongst them. Celestia rounds the table, standing behind the cushion to Duke Dresser’s left. Cure and Amethyst file in beside her, nodding respectfully to the other guests at the table.

“Thank you all for coming tonight,” Celestia begins in the otherwise silent room. “As you all know, I am not one for long speeches, so you need not fear that your beverages will become overly diluted before I am finished.”

A polite round of chuckles sounds out in the room and several glasses are hoisted in cheer.

“Before anything else, I would like to express my appreciation for the ponies responsible for ensuring this year’s Guard Competition was a phenomenal success. Hundreds, perhaps thousands of ponies, both guard members and civilians, worked tirelessly not only for the last week, but also in the months leading up to Competition’s start. In particular, Colonel Stratos for the event planning and coordination and Colonel Mayday for managing the day to day operations,” she pauses for a round of applause.

The colonels both stand, offering appreciative nods to the princess until the stomping and clapping die down.

“Of course, as this is a competition, we must also give a round of applause to the overall victors of the event. I want everypony to raise their drinks for this year’s champions!” She raises her voice, filling the room with excitement and as she calls out, “Baltimare’s Regional Guard Unit Three, led by Staff Sergeant Iron Bulwark, stand and be recognized!”

Stomps, claps, and shouts of celebration sound out throughout the room as ponies cheer for the team. Sitting on his cushion, Cure claps his hooves as he looks over the crowd, noticing something odd. Though applause still fills the room, more than a few squads seem far more subdued than he had anticipated. The event is a competition, so it’s understandable that some ponies would take it more to heart, but the disdain he sees on some ponies’ faces stands out starkly in the otherwise jubilant crowd.

As Celestia continues her speech, he focuses his attention on the nearest table with the seemingly disgruntled squad. It only takes a moment’s focus to tune out the princess, but what he hears leaves him every bit confused as it does angry. As everypony listens to the princess’s speech, Cure sits in silence, taking in and committing to memory every pony he hears making ridiculous accusations.

He is only roused from his concentration when a fetlock nudges his side. Barely keeping himself from jumping, he looks up at the princess in question. “Well?” she quietly asks.

Caught not paying attention, Cure blinks and confusion as muffled laughter sounds out across the room. Celestia chuckles warmly, and leans down to whisper in his ear. “I asked if you have anything to add.”

“Oh!” he exclaims, hopping to his hooves. “Sorry everypony! I’m sure you all want to get back to socializing, so just like Princess Celestia, I’ll keep this very short. Just like I am!” he jests, exaggerating a pout. Polite chuckles sound out as he continues, “I can’t begin to express how proud I am that one of my hometown squads managed to win the entire event! Baltimare is lucky to have such stalwart, hardworking, and dedicated ponies protecting it!” He looks around the table, meeting the eyes of every guard in the squad as he says, “I offer congratulations and a hearty ‘job well done’ to each and every one of you!

“I’m not the only one that’s excited to see a regional guard team succeed, either. Now, I don’t think everypony knows this, but alicorn hearing is really, really good, and you wouldn’t believe how many of your fellow guardsponies couldn’t help but comment about how impressed they were with your performance while Her Majesty was speaking. While we don’t have time for all of them to share their thoughts with the crowd, I can’t help but feel obligated to at least recognize a few of them for their vocal support of their fellow soldiers!

“Go ahead and stand up, Sergeant Coldsnap from Manehattan!” The unicorn goes wide-eyed in panic and looks around in confusion, lifting a hoof and pointing at her own chest. “Yes, ma’am! It may have been too quiet for the victors to catch, but I certainly heard you! Go ahead and rise to your hooves!” Ears pinned flat to her skull, the unicorn climbs off her cushion and waves uncertainly to the crowd. “Awesome! Don’t worry, Sergeant, you’re not the only one I’m going to pick on! Let’s make this quick so everypony can get back to the party. Sergeant Wailing Call from Seaddle, Staff Sergeant High Tide from Tailahassee, Sergeant Buckhorn from Whinnyapolis, and Staff Sergeant Indigo Trail from Vanhoofer.

“I heard you praising our victors during Her Majesty's speech, and I think I speak for everypony else from Baltimare when I say thank you for being such good sports! A round of applause for these five, as well, everypony, for being so gracious even in defeat!”

Author's Note

Alright, so... it's definitely time to do a 'state of the story' post. First off, let me assure everyone that this is not an "I'm stopping" announcement. That's not happening. Now, that said, it doesn't take a master detective to notice that my writing speed has gone from about 30k per week to somewhere closer to 3k. I chalk that up to a number of factors that just keep piling on. The biggest, of course, is real life.

I have mentioned in the past that I moved. Ever since then it's been one hit after another with house repairs, unrelated family issues, and miscellaneous shit I don't need to go into. I've read stories where the author disappeared for a while, then cited feeling down/whatever when they finally do get around to posting a chapter. I'd always been like, "eh, I guess being bummed out can make it harder to write." I didn't appreciate how profound an impact it has. My motivation for the last few months has been abysmal at best.

That's compounded by this whole competition arc. It's had a few parts that I thought were fun and that I really wanted to touch on. The mistake I have made is getting caught up in the minutia so badly that it has dragged. And dragged. And draaaaaagged. Now, here we are nearly 5 months and... what? 18 chapters after the start of the arc? A period of time that's only supposed to be two weeks in story? Ugh. There's slow paced and then there's just being glacial (and I don't mean the filly).

I have definitely spent too much time on the details while trying to make the world seem at least somewhat "alive." That's not a task that I think I am fully up for. Some authors really can make it happen, but they're ... ya know... good authors. Ones that make money selling books. I am not even close there, nor will I ever likely be, and that's fine by me! I need to let it happen when it comes naturally, but I've been trying to force it and, in my opinion, it's been a little obvious that I am struggling with it.

So the question is, "Where does that leave us?" Obviously, this arc is almost over. I had (again) a big list of things I wanted to have happen at the ball. I am not sure if I'll bother, or just wrap it up right here. Either way, I absolutely have to change up my schedule. I've been barely finishing chapters the evening before posting for the last few months. That's not something I do well with. I used to have a 3-4 chapter buffer and, earlier in the year when I mentioned that had evaporated, several folks said "Go to every other week and build it back up."

I will be doing that, but first I am taking a break. I don't plan on taking more than few weeks off, and I'll probably poke away at the chapter when I feel up to it, but I need to take a break for a minute and not have the self-imposed deadline taking the fun out of writing.

So... yeah, long rant there, but I promised early on I would keep everyone in the loop as far as how the story was progressing and if there would be changes to how it is posted. So that no one gets anxious thinking I've legitimately bailed, I'll probably hop on just to say hey or something even if I don't have a chapter ready.

Thanks for your continued support, everyone. Enjoy the chapter, short as it is.

Chapter 119: Beaver Blocking, Royal Edition

Friday, September 11th, 909 AB (seconds later)

The young colt’s declaration is met with a round of obligatory and half-hearted applause as ponies trade looks of confusion.

Celestia, fighting back a sigh, smiles beautifully at the foal. “Thank you for… that, Serpentus,” she begins with a forced smile, panning to look at the standing ponies, “and, of course, I offer my thanks to each of you as well. Such wonderful sportsmareship is to be commended.” She pauses a fraction of a second and glances to the side, eyes landing on a servingmare who dips her head in a shallow nod. “It seems that supper is ready, so I will not keep everypony any longer.”

Voice rising in volume, she commands with a genuine smile, “I have only one more thing to add; call it an order from your princess, if you will.” Cure notes how almost everypony in a uniform sits a little straighter, some even rising to their hooves automatically to receive their ruler’s command. “Eat, drink, and enjoy yourselves this evening! You have all more than earned it! That is all I ask of you tonight!”

A much more genuine round of applause sounds out and hundreds of glasses are raised in cheer. Celestia gives the servingmares another brief look, prompting them to leap into action. She retakes her seat, but Cure’s focus remains on the staff as they begin calling up tables to escort the ponies over to the lines of food-laden tables along the wall.

“So… we’re doing this buffet style?” he asks, turning back to the princess.

A single laugh escapes her lips as she shakes her head to the negative. “Everypony else is, but we have more traditional service. Goodness me!” she exclaims, chuckling warmly, “Some nobles may have an aneurysm upon seeing a picture of royalty loading up a plate at a buffet. Much as I may not care, appearances must be maintained and all that nonsense.”

The mare scarcely finishes her sentence when a squad of servingmares prance up to the table pushing carts full of platters and beverages. Cure briefly curses his youth again, watching on as all the adults are given more spirited refreshments while he and the other foals are given glasses full of cider. As tempting as it is to pull his sugar-to-alcohol trick again, doing so in such a public setting wouldn’t come close to being worth the trouble he would get in. The cider itself is quite delicious as it is and, briefly, he wonders if it could have come from Sweet Apple Acres.

“No,” his mother’s authoritative voice insists, punctuated with a bump of her fetlock on his left shoulder. Soulful, faux innocent eyes swing in her direction and his ears droop down pitifully against his head. The pathetic display barely earns a scoff from the indifferent mare as she rolls her eyes in response. “Don’t think I weren’t watchin them peepers, colt. Maker knows ya got plenty goin on in that noggin I can’t keep track’a, but ya always get the same look when yer fixin ta do somethin ya know ya shouldn’t.”

Crying in mock offense, he holds a hoof to his chest and leans away. “I haven’t the faintest clue what you are referring to. I was merely… uhh… looking to see what everypony else got.”

“Uh huh,” she dismissively mumbles, not believing a single word. “And I reckon ya weren’t thinkin ‘bout makin yerself a lil somethin-somethin ta sip on, neither, were ya?”

“Perish the thought, mother!” he cries in an overly posh Canterlonian accent. “I need not remind you, the legal drinking age is fifteen in Equestria. I would be setting a poor example for all the ponies who admire me to so blatantly flout the law, especially in Her Majesty’s esteemed presence!”

From further down the table, Silent Bolt leans to Ricochet and quietly whispers, “Does alcohol even do anything to an alicorn?”

Visions of Celestia’s sleeping form snuggled between his mothers on the night before his coronation float to the forefront, but Cure doesn’t even get his muzzle open to respond before it’s clamped shut with a golden aura. The look of betrayal swings the other direction, landing squarely on the princess as the glow on her horn snuffs out.

“I could almost hear what you were thinking,” she stoically intones. Looking to the yellow unicorn, Celestia deigns to answer his question. “It does have an effect on us, but, as with earth ponies, it is diminished thanks to our more resilient constitution.”

“And having more body mass helps, of course,” Cure helpfully provides.

The table goes oddly silent as everypony freezes in place. Though lacking the courage to actually turn their heads and take in the princess’s reaction, every set of eyes is peering in their direction.

“What?!” he protests against the sudden stillness. “The more blood you have the more it takes to affect you!” Thrusting an admonishing hoof in the princess’s direction, he defensively insists, “Don’t you go acting like I said something offensive! I’m just stating a simple fact!”

“A simple fact, hmm?” she calmly questions.

“Exactly!”

“The more ‘body mass’ you have, the more you must consume.”

“That’s what I said!” he acknowledges, vehemently nodding in agreement.

“And since your princess is, apparently, quite massive -”

“Woah now!” he shouts, hooves held out in the universal sign to stop. “Don’t go puttin words in my muzzle!”

“- then she would need that much more in order to become inebriated.”

“Well…” he hesitates, ignoring the quiet snickers, “I mean, it’s true.” He leans back on his cushion, blatantly allowing his eyes to trail down her barrel and pausing briefly on her flanks before he snaps back forward. The unsubtle examination only serves to increase everypony’s laughter, save his victim whose scowl only deepens.

He meets the unamused look with a cheeky smile, then waves a hoof in Bulwark’s direction, pointing out, “The sarge is probably pushin two seventy-five and you’ve gotta be almost double that, so…” he trails off, rolling his hoof leadingly.

The unmistakable scent of fear and anxiety creeps from the rest of the table as the brave defenders of Golden Hills, along with the suddenly nervous serving staff, begin looking for escape routes and preparing to erect Shields around themselves.

“Is it getting warm in here?” he asks the room, looking in every direction but to his right for the source.

“I cannot believe you would be so bold as to discuss your princess’s weight!” the ancient mare grumbles, though he can tell she isn’t genuinely offended.

“What’s bold about it? It’s a simple fact. You’re the one that’s always saying ‘my little ponies,’ after all! Ergo, you are all but confirming that you, relatively speaking, are not little.”

“That is merely a term of endearment!”

“One that happens to be accurate! Besides,” he begins, folding his legs smugly across his chest, “I’ll note you haven’t said I’m wrong, so that can only lead me to one conclusion.”

The princess’s indignant look falters for a moment before she rallies, turning her snout up and away from the brat. “That is not important!” she defiantly insists.

“Seems like an open and shut case of lèse-majesté, princess,” Duke Dandy calmly notes. “Shall her majesty’s guards place the offender under arrest?”

Celestia pretends to consider it for a moment before slowly shaking her head. “Unfortunately, I do not believe we have dungeons that are sufficient to hold him. That is something I shall remedy prior to his next visit.”

“My next scheduled visit isn’t until the January births,” he argues. “I’m having a hard time seeing you dragging me out of the delivery room in shackles, and unless you’re going to have expecting dams brought to this supposed prison,” he pauses, eyebrows hiked nearly to his mane. Celestia’s muzzle scrunches in consternation, leading the colt to nod knowingly in response. “Honestly, though, I don’t get why mares act like they’re weight is some big secret.” He pauses barely a second to look up at the princess. “How tall are you at the withers? About eighteen hooves?”

“Yes? Slightly under, but thereabouts.”

“See?” he triumphantly declares, panning his gaze around the table. “Not a second’s hesitation answering that one, I’ll have you all note!”

“That’s cause you can see how tall somepony is just from lookin at ‘em, ya goof,” Amethyst argues, bumping him again.

“And you can tell if somepony is overweight the same way,” he counters.

“Says the heaviest foal his age I’ve ever heard of,” Sgt. Haze idly notes.

Cure playfully scowls at the red unicorn, maintaining eye contact as he slowly lifts his foreleg up to flex his chest and biceps. His vest and coat strain to contain the mass of bulging muscles, pulling firmly on the top button of his jacket while the sleeves fill to the point of nearly splitting.

The reactions from the rest of the table are varied. His fellow earth ponies grunt appreciatively or, in Rushing Charge’s case, whistle wolfishly at the display. He looks her way and blows a kiss, waggling his brows in response and earning another round of laughter. The unicorns and pegasi, both day and night, seem more stunned and slightly apprehensive than impressed.

Rather than destroy the second set of clothes he’s ever worn that he didn’t make himself, he relaxes the swollen muscles and spreads his forelegs in challenge to the sergeant. “Touché,” the stallion grants, gracefully retracting his accusation.

“Exactly,” the young alicorn snaps triumphantly. “So yeah, the whole being weird about your weight thing doesn’t make any sense. You’re either overweight and you know it, or you’re not, in which case, you know that too. Either way, who cares? Besides, boss, you’re in great shape for somepony that sits around all day, especially given how much junk food I see you put away.”

“Such a charmer,” Celestia drolly comments.

Peeking through his hooves held a fraction of a centimeter apart, he amends, “Still, a teeny, tiny little bit of exercise wouldn’t kill ya. Just saying.”

Duke Dandy leans closer to his wife and stage whispers, “I was not told alicorn flambé would be on this evening’s menu.”

“Maker forbid!” Celestia quietly exclaims. “We would not want to make everypony sick.”

Cure almost instinctively argues that he is delicious, but his brain manages to intervene before he says anything that could be interpreted as too inappropriate. His age would see the comment dismissed by most of the ponies in attendance, but the ones that know him better, especially the princess, may suspect his words to be intentionally suggestive.

Rather than continue their banter, he shoots the serving staff an appreciative smile and grabs his fork to dig into his salad. Leafy greens are a staple of pony cuisine, but the castle staff seem to have decided to try a new addition.

The colt has never been a huge fan of sweet potatoes, but the cubed and cooked starchy vegetable along with a garlicky, buttery dressing is an interesting addition to an otherwise relatively typical salad. All and all, though, he would prefer real croutons, ranch dressing, some bacon bits, and an unhealthy dusting of mozzarella cheese. He begins munching away, happily bouncing on his cushion as everypony else starts eating.

Chatter is, unsurprisingly, rather sparse since neither the Golden Hills squad nor their accompanying families know exactly how to begin a mundane conversation with the princess. He can’t really blame them for feeling overwhelmed. Most ponies go their entire lives at best seeing her from a distance while she is giving a speech or attending some kind of public function.

Sitting not more than a few body lengths away from such a being after decades of indoctrination is certainly overwhelming. That she can literally make or break their future with an off-the-hoof decision - as she seemingly has done with Solar Strike - adds another layer of intimidation that is not so easily dispelled by a round of teasing banter.

“So, Sergeant Bulwark,” Celestia begins, putting an end to the silence, “how do you find your assignment in Golden Hills? Peaceful, I would presume, as I do not recall any recent briefs mentioning issues in your city.”

Sitting straighter on his cushion, the gray stallion eagerly nods his head. “Yes, ma’am! Very peaceful! We have the occasional wildlife encroachment from the nearby woods, but aside from the occasional ‘small town’ incident, very little exciting happens in our town.”

“... except right before we left,” Cure hears somepony say. He leans forward to look down the table, finding all heads have swiveled to look at Cpl. Ricochet. The chestnut ginger goes stock still when everypony turns in her direction.

“Sorry, Corporal… you prefer Ricochet, right?” Cure calls out, pausing until the mare hesitantly nods. “I didn’t catch that. You said something unusual happened right before we came to Canterlot?”

The mare nervously shifts from side to side on her seat before nodding to the affirmative. “Yes, sir. I promise I’m not making it up -”

“The whole lobby saw the thing,” Rushing reassures her, nodding to encourage her to continue.

“True. Well, the day before we had to leave for the competition we had this… talking stalk of broccoli in a cape walk in the precinct.” A few of the other Golden Hills guards start chuckling, but the princess, duke, and duchess look on incredulously as she continues, “It was the dam… darndest thing! It said it was the leader of its kind. Broccoloid is the name he… it? It, I suppose -”

Cure steps in to interrupt again, explaining, “Most plants, including broccoli, are both genders at the same time. I guess you could say that this ‘broccoloid,’” he slowly teases out with air quotes, “would be a hermaphrodite, if anything, so I suppose until we hear what its preferred pronoun is, ‘it’ will have to suffice. I’m guessing there wasn’t any visible indication one way or the other?”

“No, sir. There was just… nothing there at all!”

“Huh. Weird. I would have liked to meet this broccoloid if, for no other reason, to see how that worked from a biological standpoint. Regardless, corporal, apologies for the interruption. Please, continue.”

The whole time he’s talking, Celestia is casting very suspicious glances in the colt’s direction, meanwhile he’s struggling to hold in the laughter and maintain his stoic facade. She doesn’t speak up, but it’s pretty obvious that she has a good idea of who might be responsible for the strange being’s visit. One that, conveniently, occurred immediately after he acquired the objects necessary to make it happen.

“Yes sir. Anyhow, it came in complaining about us eating its young, but I think it was talking about plain old broccoli. I’ve never seen a piece that could talk before, and I darn sure wouldn’t eat anything that could ask me not to!”

“That is quite bizarre, corporal,” Dandy notes aloud. He turns back to Celestia and suggests, “Perhaps a survey of the nearby farmlands should be conducted to ensure nopony is growing anything out of the ordinary?”

A mischievous grin stretches across the mare’s muzzle as she nods in agreement. “An excellent idea! Fortunately, I know exactly the pony to give the job.”

It takes a real, concerted effort for the colt not to sigh when the princess turns his way and beseechingly requests, “Prince Serpentus? I would ask that you investigate any farmland in the area of Golden Hills that is growing broccoli or related vegetables. That includes brussel sprouts, radishes, cabbage, cauliflower…” she drifts off, humming in thought.

“Turnips ‘n arugula, too, majesty,” Amethyst helpfully supplies, fighting to keep her laughter as quiet as possible.

“Ah, yes! Thank you, Lady Minerva. Be sure to include those as well, Serpentus. I will have a list of all nearby farms provided to you upon your return. Normally I would assign you staff to assist with this endeavor, but given that we are being accused of devouring sentient beings, I would only trust somepony with your magnificent talent to differentiate between mundane vegetables and a creature that only appears to be one.”

“... really?!” he all but whines in response.

“Of course!” the elder alicorn insists. “We cannot simply ignore such an accusation, even if it sounds more like some kind of silly prank.”

“Do you have any idea how many farms there are around Golden Hills, though?!”

“Many dozens, presumably, but there will be far fewer growing those specific vegetables. After all, the majority of what is grown there is wheat, is it not?” she asks, looking towards Sgt. Bulwark.

“That is correct, your majesty,” the stallion confirms. “After all, that is how the city got its name.”

“Thank you, sergeant. You see?” she begins, turning back to the colt. “I doubt it will take you more than a day or two, given how efficiently you operate when you put your mind to a task. Please try to have the survey completed before the end of September. We are quickly approaching the harvest season for broccoli, if I am not mistaken, so there is little time to tarry. Work with Captain Stance to arrange your escort, and schedule it on a day that will not interfere with your work at the hospital, if you could.”

Fighting to keep his shoulders from sagging, Cure nods his head in acceptance of her command. He very strongly considers leaving the captain and his escorts out of this and doing a stealth run, instead. It will cut down on how long it takes by a huge margin, especially if he can send out puppets under invisibility at night to scan the fields. Simply ignoring her command to conduct the survey isn’t an option, unfortunately, but as long as he does the important part she probably won’t raise a fuss about how he gets it done.

Then again, she may want him to visibly have to spend his time doing everything as part of his “punishment” for pranking her guards.

Easier to ask forgiveness than permission, he easily decides.

“I’ll get right on it, boss.”

“Wonderful! Thank you, Serpentus.”

“Sure. Glad to be of help.”

“I can tell.”

With the colt’s less than pleased disposition, an uncomfortable silence once again befalls the group. Fortunately, Duchess Dresser tries to reignite conversation, leaning forward to look down the table. “I imagine this is the first time in the capital for many of your foals. Tell me,” she begins, eyes flicking between Cpl. Arc and Sgt. Song’s families in particular, “what sort of fun things have you found during your visit?”

Hesitating slightly and looking to her parents for reassurance, Static’s youngest daughter begins giving a rundown of the sights and scenes they have taken in over the last two weeks. Cure hadn’t ever officially met Cyan Spark before, but he has seen her along with the rest of Static’s family a few times when they’ve met the stallion for lunch over summer. All three of the girls are a fair bit older than Cure, with Cyan being the youngest at around fourteen. The filly’s coat is very close to his own natural color, and she has a brighter, golden mane compared to that of her sire.

“Daddy couldn’t go with us for much because he was busy getting ready for the competition, but the rest of us visited Auntie Cycle up in Cloudsdale and spent a few days there. There were all kinds of neat stores and restaurants and candy shops, but the best part was when we went to the park!”

“Hurricane Memorial?” Celestia knowingly asks.

“Mhmm!” the filly enthusiastically bobs her head and hums. Cure only barely pays attention as she continues her excited retelling of her visit to the park. As fun as the activities sound, it all amounts to “a bunch of foals playing games.” While the aerial version of lacrosse, in particular, sounds kind of interesting, it’s likely not something he’ll ever get to experience anyhow.

He briefly wonders if he would be allowed to join any kind of organized sport at all.

Some of Ed’s happiest childhood memories were from playing football and soccer. Baseball, however, pretty much sucked all around aside from brief, fleeting moments where the ball was hit in his direction. He could never wrap his head around how any child could have fun baking on an open field in the middle of summer while wearing long pants.

Participating as Serpentus is probably completely impossible for a multitude of reasons. First and foremost, any parent on another team could, justifiably no less, argue that playing against the Alicorn of Life is completely unfair.

Perhaps if his domain were different their argument would be less valid, but that still wouldn’t mitigate the intimidation factor other foals would be forced to overcome. It was bad enough when a kid on the other team was a whole head taller than every other player. He can’t imagine how much it would suck to have a bonafide demigod playing for the competition, even if their greatest strength weren’t directly applicable to the match.

The only way anypony could be any kind of competition for him is if they happen to have a special talent applicable to the sport he is playing. Even then, chances are his unending endurance would eventually tip the scales in his favor.

He could physically limit himself to a typical earth pony colt’s abilities, but he is very much aware of how competitive he can get. It would probably not take much at all for him to, perhaps even subconsciously, use his talent to give himself an edge. Almost anypony would, after all. Losing is not typically a choice, and by holding himself back he would be all but doing just that; making a conscious decision to allow himself, and his team, to lose.

The colt’s musings come to an end as the filly wraps up their previous week’s itinerary, unenthusiastically finishing with, “- then Aunt Cycle got us a tour of the water treatment plant she works at. It was okay, I guess, but the whole place kind of stank.”

The older filly’s dam gently interrupts, draping a wing over her daughter’s back. “That was only one section of the building, honey. You didn’t have to tell her she has a smelly job!” She quickly - nearly frantically - looks between the duke, duchess, and princess, reassuring them, “We were only in there for a moment! It wasn’t that bad!”

Cure isn’t sure what the big deal is. Just because they are nominally in charge of those facilities doesn’t mean they’re going to be insulted by her daughter’s observation. If anything, it prompts him to consider if there’s something he can do to improve the situation. The answer, even without expending much effort envisioning possibilities, is almost invariably a resounding “Yes.” It doesn’t take much imagination to consider that, while it may be slightly more disgusting than a pony’s bowels and guts, he would probably gain a lot of new examples of bacteria and other organisms from a simple scan of the facility.

He marks that down on the ever-growing mental list of things he should eventually look into.

“I have toured such facilities myself,” Dandy cuts in between bites and gives the girl a commiserating look. “I must agree with the young lady; there are certainly areas where one would not want to linger for too long. Even with the breathing masks they offered, the… aroma was quite distinct.”

Static’s wife sighs and nods in agreement, reaching out with a wing to prompt the filly to move on. “That’s not exactly something I would bring up at dinner, honey. Why don’t you tell them about the petting zoo, instead?”

“Cloudsdale has a petting zoo?” Cure blurts out, interrupting.

Celestia nods to the affirmative, stepping in to explain, “It does, but its focus is primarily on critters that may seem somewhat mundane to yourself.”

Huh. Guess that explains how a pegasus from Cloudsdale falls in love with little animals, the colt muses. That never made much sense to me before.

Brow raised in curiosity, the colt turns back to the filly as she begins, “It’s pretty neat, but most of the animals are things we see around Baltimare all the time. Squirrels, chipmunks, bunnies, dogs, cats, stuff like that. There were a few things I’ve only seen at a distance like beavers, but they weren’t very friendly.”

The colt nods in understanding, commenting, “I’ve had to put up with a few angry beavers myself. They can be difficult to deal with.” Most of the adults pause in confusion, wondering if the colt is speaking literally. Overtop of a few muffled snickers from the younger adults, he continues, “We had a filly at the hospital that got bit by one just a couple months ago. The thing almost bit her pastern in half before her dam got a hold of it.” Tone completely flat, he dryly remarks, “My understanding is that the beaver did not fare well in that exchange.”

“That is unfortunate about the filly,” Celestia comments, turning back to Static’s daughter to continue, “and exactly why such a facility exists in Cloudsdale. Many young pegasi are unaware of the dangers that even common wildlife can pose, being so far removed from nature as they are. I hope the other critters were more friendly, my little pony.”

Head bobbing eagerly, the girl hums in reply. “Mhmm! The squirrels were super neat how they ran and hopped all over us, your majesty! We got to feed and pet them and it was really fun!”

“That is wonderful to hear,” she warmly responds.

“Speaking of such critters,” Duke Dandy interjects, turning to Cure, “I have not seen hide nor hair of your fluffy friend since our meeting over a week ago, your highness. I presume she has been spending the majority of the time in your suite?”

Cure looks thoughtful for a moment before he shakes his head no. “I’m not sure where all she’s been. She said she was going into the city to do some shopping, but other than that…” he trails off with an unsure shrug of his wings.

“Your… rabbit?” Sgt. Bulwark questions, voice dripping with confusion and disbelief. “She went shopping? How? For what?”

“Can’t say I rightly know, sarge. Probably used some of her modeling income to buy some fancy hats or clothes or something. I suppose she should be here, huh?” Over top of the insistence that it isn’t necessary for her to attend, Cure ignites his horn and focuses on an empty spot between himself and Celestia.

A flash of light heralds the appearance of his rabbit who was apparently deeply immersed in an interesting publication. Blinking the spots out of her eyes, the doe gawps, taking in her surroundings, then hastily closes the magazine and partially tucks it underneath a tightly folded wing.

“Hey Bunlestia,” Cure warmly greets, then adopts a look of confusion. It doesn’t escape his notice that several of the other ponies at the table are mouthing the rabbit’s name and struggling not to laugh. “Were you… reading something you bought in town?”

Bunlestia rapidly shakes her head to the negative, squeaking and chirping insistently as she futily tries to keep the magazine out of sight. Her undersized wings do a terrible job of concealing the periodical, the cover of which prominently displays a bow-tied rabbit’s silhouette.

Curious and slightly wary of what the colt has conjured, Celestia lights her horn and pulls it free of the rabbit’s grip. The bunny cries and shakes her empty forepaws in urgent protest, cheeks pinking when the mare unfolds the magazine to read the title. “PlayBunny?” she questions aloud, confusion painted across her face. Attempts to keep their laughter muffled from down the table finally fail as the younger soldiers completely lose their composure.

The jubilation briefly draws Celestia’s attention before she reads further down the cover. “The twenty best ways to keep him -” Celestia stops herself mid sentence, regarding the colt with an unimpressed scowl.

“What are you looking at me for?” he innocently asks.

Bunlestia huffs and growls animatedly again, folding her forelegs across her chest in annoyance.

The rabbit’s grumbling draws Cure’s attention as he rounds on her with a scolding hoof. “I don’t care if you only read it for the articles, Bunlestia! Go back to our room and try to behave yourself!” The bunny disappears back from whence she came in another flash of light. Snout crinkled, the colt turns to face the princess, pausing when he notices her flipping through the pages, eyes quickly drinking in the magazine’s contents. “Boss?” he calls, voice laden with confusion.

Celestia briefly flushes when everypony’s eyes fall on her with a variety of expressions. Bewilderment, disappointment, and perhaps even some disgust meet her look, the latter mainly from her little ponies with foals at the table. She can easily admit that letting her curiosity get the better of her may not have been a wise choice, but she was confident that the foal would not create anything overly scandalous. At least, not at a dinner with so many witnesses nearby.

In private, around ponies that truly know him? Maker knows what his warped, little brain could come up with.

“The rabbit was telling the truth,” she insists, voice tinged with a hint of relief. “The vast majority of the publication is, indeed, articles. Well written ones at that. The focus is primarily on proper foal care. Or rather, kit care, I suppose. The few pictures and illustrations are, if anything, adorable.” She turns around the magazine and unfolds a multipanel page showing a pile of several snuggling fuzzy kits swaddled in tiny, color coded blankies. Every mare and foal at the table gushes and coos at the cuteness on display.

“Not what I was expecting,” Bolt quietly comments.

“Oh really?” Sgt. Haze leans forward to question. “Tell us, Private: What were you expecting, exactly?”

The younger unicorn blanches when everypony turns his way. “I dunno?” he says, reflexively shrinking into his seat. “I figured it would be like… uhh,” he stammers, “different kinds of pictures and whatnot.”

“Of… rabbits?” Haze coolly inquires.

“I guess? I mean, she,” he says, motioning to the previously rabbit-occupied section of the table, “is a rabbit, so… ya know… what else?”

“That would make the most sense,” Cure agrees. “That’s an excellent logical deduction, private. I may not have a whole lot of experience with all this,” he says, waving vaguely to the room at large, “but a keen mind like that? It’ll take you places.”

Even though the comment was delivered with a serious tone, the ponies who know who he really is easily pick up on the sarcasm. Cure hasn’t been sure up to now how many are certain of his true identity. They would have to be pretty dim not to at least suspect, but only the three sergeants should truly know beyond any shadow of a doubt. Based on their reactions, though, it’s pretty obvious that the other guards he’s worked with have him figured out.

Conversation once again grinds to a halt when the servingponies show up, this time with covered platters filling cart after cart. Cure’s booty involuntarily dances in his seat while his cleaned salad plate is swapped out with a golden dome. With a small flourish, the mare lifts the cover off to reveal an artistically plated serving of shrimp alfredo. The colt’s eyes widen in excitement and his wiggly dancing intensifies, drawing a warm chuckle from the princess. He glances over, noting that her pasta lacks his protein, having broccoli florets instead.

On one hoof, it’s a perfectly acceptable meal that he has no real complaint about. On another hoof, the frequency with which pasta dishes are served at the palace seems a tad odd. Sure, they’re filling and almost everypony loves them, but the main reason ponies eat pasta is because it is cheap. Sure, there may be a couple thousand creatures present between the guards and the family members that accompanied them, but it still seems a little strange given the circumstances.

Then again, Equestria as a nation apparently operates in the black. Maybe, unlike the governments from Ed’s memories, somepony actually does what they can to keep costs reasonable around here. Somepony that takes their job seriously, no less.

He also considers that, throughout most of history, the majority of fancy human meals are only considered such because of some exotic or unique type of meat for an entree. Lobster, filet mignon, caviar, some kind of rare pheasant… the list goes on. While that would certainly spark some conversations in pony society, he’s pretty confident they wouldn’t be of the positive sort.

Without further ado, Cure makes a show of reaching into his suit jacket, then slowly pulls out a white folded square of fabric. Turned to his right, he grips two corners and gives it a hardy flap, reaching up to the back of his neck to tie the corners together. The over-the-top action draws several stares, and everypony’s eyes widen when he turns back to show off the fancy new bib.

Without any parmesan to sprinkle on his entree, the colt happily enjoys a different form of garnish. The deep sigh from the princess and muffled snickers of his audience greatly enhance the already nigh-orgasmic deliciousness of his first bite.

“Must you?” the elder alicorn exasperatedly asks.

He finishes cramming a forkful of spun pasta with a speared shrimp into his muzzle, biting down to lock it in place. Mouth full of food, he innocently turns to the princess, brows raised almost to his mane. “Hmm?”

“Where in Equestria did you even get that? I certainly do not recall seeing it in the catalog of my products.”

Savoring every delectable flavor caressing his tongue, the colt takes his sweet time thoroughly chewing up his food, then loudly swallows and rinses it down with a gulp of cider before sidestepping her question. “What’s wrong with it? Not a fan of the picture? If you ask me,” he says, pausing to look down, “While not exactly a realistic depiction, per se, it certainly does a wonderful job capturing your character.”

Scowling at the miniscule nuisance, the princess huffs and replies, “I will have you know that I am not some kind of… cake fiend incapable of restraining myself when presented with a treat.”

The colt’s horn lights up for a third time, scooting items around to make room before Teleporting a cake just like the one in the picture onto the table. Despite her insistence, the princess’s eyes momentarily light up at the chocolatey confection’s appearance. It only lasts an instant before she schools her features, but with everypony looking in her direction there’s not a soul at the table that missed it.

Smiling smugly, Cure resumes his eating without another word.

“See? Perfectly restrained,” she haughtily declares, daintily taking another bite of her entree.

Cure shrugs his wings and the cake disappears in another flash. Scandalized at the sudden lack of cake, Celestia fails to hide her look of disappointment.

<< Don’t worry, boss, >> he silently Messages to the mare. <> He can’t help but notice a slightly quicker swish of the princess’s tail. Out loud he adds, “The staff prepared more than enough desserts for everypony already. They don’t need me trying to steal the spotlight.”

Regaining her typical regal composure, the mare looks meaningfully at his plate. “Perhaps instead of concerning yourself with what I eat, you should focus on your own meal. After all, you will be needing plenty of energy this evening.”

As inappropriate as the princess’s statement could be interpreted, Cure knows she didn’t mean anything by it. That doesn’t stop a few of the younger ponies from freezing in place momentarily before forcing themselves to continue eating.

Meeting the elder alicorn’s smug look with one of confusion, Cure finally gives up guessing what she means and asks for clarification.

“Why, for all of the dancing you will be doing, of course. Now, I know that you can be quite shy at times -” she says, pausing for a moment when Amethyst barks out a laugh “- so I took the liberty of setting something up in advance.”

To Celestia’s mild disappointment, Cure reacts with neither annoyance or panic, but instead a look of resignation. “What did you do?” he sternly asks, looking around suspiciously for some kind of clue.

“I thought to myself,” she begins, tapping thoughtfully at her chin while humming, “how could we make this evening special for all the little fillies coming with their parents?” Grinning victoriously, she perks up as if coming up with the perfect solution. “Then, I remembered what a fantastic dancer you are! Why, the answer simply could not be more obvious!”

Sighing, the colt hangs his head in defeat. “Again… what did you do?!” he worriedly demands.

“Is that what these tickets are for?”

Ebony Foil’s question to her dam nets her everypony’s attention. The shy filly practically shrinks into her cushion when everypony glances her way before turning back to the princess.

“That is exactly right, young Miss Foil!” Celestia excitedly confirms. She turns back to Cure nearly bouncing on her seat and explains, “Every filly in attendance was given a ticket. They may deposit one half of their ticket into a collection box or pass them to the serving staff. Once dinner is complete we will pick tickets to see who gets the opportunity to dance with His. Royal. Highness.”

Cure can’t help but note the way she says those last three words. He’s known the princess to use sarcasm on rare occasions, but that has, as far as he can immediately recall, been exclusively in more private situations. Her tone isn’t malicious; she’s obviously just getting back at him for something. Given what a pain in the rear he has been the last couple weeks, he can’t even muster the gall to pretend to be upset. If anything, he’s happy to see her being her normal playful self despite the crap he’s pulled with the zebras recently.

Of course, that doesn’t mean he isn’t going to at least pretend to be upset.

“What?!” he shrieks in mock outrage, ears and wings shooting to the sky. Amethyst glares for a second at his left wing smacking into her during his outcry. “How many fillies do I have to dance with?!”

“Oh I wouldn’t worry too much about the exact number, your highness,” Dandy jokingly interrupts. “I’m sure you’ll be done before midnight. After all, the band does need to go home at some point.”

With uncanny quickness, Cure reaches into his mane and whips out his watch, projecting an Illusion of the time for all to see. “Eight thirty?!” he all but shrieks, turning to the princess with a look of horror. “You expect me to spend three and a half hours on the dance floor?!”

“Please,” she drawls, rolling her eyes in an exaggerated motion. “As if that would be difficult for you. If you did not tire during your flight from Baltimare to here then a little dancing will not be a problem. Besides, you could, every so often, take a short break if it is truly necessary.”

“Why, though?! The event is supposed to be all about the guards, not me!” He glances around the table looking for a victim. “Sergeant Haze is here by himself! Why not have a bunch of mares dance with him?”

“An excellent idea,” the stallion stoically agrees. “Lady Minerva?” he calls, looking inordinately smug. “As neither of our spouses are present, perhaps you would honor me with a dance or two this evening?”

“What?!” Cure squawks, unprepared for the response.

Hoof held to her muzzle to stifle her laughter, Amethyst nods enthusiastically in acceptance. “Sounds fun, sarge. Just don’t go gettin all hoovesy on me. I’mma married mare, after all.”

“I’ll endeavor to control myself,” he insists as flatly as he can manage.

“Touché, sergeant,” Cure begrudgingly acknowledges. “Well played.”

The stallion inclines his head slightly in acceptance.

“Wonderful!” Celestia cheers. “And as for your question, young stallion, I am certain the parents of the young fillies will have no objection.”

The colt folds his forelegs across his chest and huffs in fake exasperation. “Fine!” he grouses goodnaturedly, “but only if you get out there for at least a song or two, yourself!”

“An excellent suggestion,” Dandy quickly agrees on her behalf. “Perhaps we could get a photograph of the two of you together. I’m quite sure Miss Development would be ecstatic to take the shot.”

“I believe our respective statures may make us dancing together a bit of a challenge,” she calmly argues.

“Oh, so now talking about somepony’s body is perfectly okay. Got it,” he teasingly quips.

“It is not the same and you know it,” she argues back.

“Fair enough. And the whole me being a quarter your height thing isn’t really that much of a problem! I’ve been spending a lot of my downtime studying in your library, after all.”

Celestia blinks and tilts her head to the right in confusion. As far as she is aware, he has not been in any of her libraries at any point during his visit. She almost asks when, but he continues before the word escapes her muzzle.

“And I found just the spell to solve that problem. Now, I can only hold it for a little while, and I’ll probably be really worn out when we’re done, but as long as we wait until the end of the night that shouldn’t be a problem.”

Celestia sighs internally as she considers the foal’s suggestion. She has a pretty good guess as to what he is planning. While it may be amusing to see everypony’s reaction to a fully grown alicorn stallion, there is one small problem with him showing the ability to appear as an adult. Namely, between that and his demonstrated ability to alter his appearance, the zebras are very likely put two and two together and, despite lacking any evidence, inadvertently come to the correct conclusion.

Ambassador Zuberi will definitely take the display as proof that Cure was the supposed zebra shaman they were pursuing, and he may be able to persuade Colonel Agrinya or Major Faheem to buy into the proposition. There’s also the concern that they may, somehow, link the colt’s activities as Madame Adiah, even though there is, again, no solid evidence the two are in any way related.

Ultimately, as much fun as it could be to join him on the dance floor, there are too many possible pitfalls for her to take the chance. A shame, she considers, since his appearance as a stallion is certainly attractive. Sighing internally, she dismisses the notion from her mind; while having to wait another six years for anything physical to develop is unfortunate, the fact that a male alicorn even exists is a dream she’s not dared to entertain for nearly her whole life. She is perfectly fine only having to wait a little more than half of a decade for him to reach adulthood.

Though she would not be completely opposed to an occasion all-encompassing hug like he gave her during that first demonstration. Or the snuggling session after that barely passable attempt at an apology.

Consolingly, she dismisses the idea. “As much as I appreciate the effort you must have gone to to learn that spell, if it is the one I am thinking of then I must forbid you from using it from now on. That is a very advanced spell, and it is far too strenuous on the magic systems for somepony your age, alicorn or not. In fact, I would highly recommend you not cast that spell until you are older, lest you accidentally stifle your magical development.”

The colt sits there dumbfounded for a good few seconds trying to parse out the princess’s meaning. He’s positive she knows what he really meant, and she knows he can pull it off with absolutely zero difficulty. It only takes a moment for realization to set in, and he has to fight the urge to facehoof when it finally does.

It’s his own actions, once again, that have come around to bite him. Losing out on a chance to drag her out onto the dance floor is kind of a bummer, but he isn’t sure he really regrets delivering the threat to the ambassador.

Whether it was worth the sacrifice will depend on how his words will be taken, but if it prevents him from having to go on a rampage because somezebra decided to test the waters, then it will all be worthwhile. Of course, if they do decide to heed the advice it’s not like he’ll ever know, but if they don’t…

Well, if they don’t then nozebra can claim they were not warned.

“Okay,” he agrees with a disappointed pout. “I guess you would be the expert, boss. I’ll avoid using that from now on. I can still use Enlarge when I’m dancing with the older fillies, though, right?”

“Yes. That is a much lower difficulty spell, and I know you are already quite proficient with it.”

“Were we referring to some kind of aging spell, perhaps?” Dandy inquires.

“We are,” Celestia quickly affirms. “And to answer everypony’s next question, yes, those spells are indeed forbidden, both due to the toll they take on the caster and the fact that, if improperly performed, may not be as temporary as intended.”

“Ah, yes… that would be quite unfortunate,” the unicorn quietly murmurs.

“Indeed, it most certainly would,” the princess agrees.

The duchess looks between her husband and the two alicorns and asks, “Could his highness not revert any such changes with his talents if that were to happen?”

“The main problem would be fitting an adult-sized brain back into a foal-sized cranium,” Cure replies, shaking his head to the negative. “There’s nothing stopping me from working on somepony else’s brain. Hay, one of the first ponies I helped when I started at the hospital was a stallion that had just had a stroke, but messing with my own brain is not a good idea. As I understand it, that’s led to some pretty unfortunate results from ponies that have had similar talents to my own.”

“Quite right,” the princess solemnly agrees, “and we can scarcely afford his brain taking any more damage than it already seems to have.”

Snorting in indignation, Cure flicks his ear dismissively in her direction and continues eating his meal, paying no mind to the rest of the table’s laughter at his expense.

He briefly considers pointing out that he could double his size and only be a few hooves shorter than the mare, but doesn’t voice the idea. He would still weigh around a sixth or so as much, which could be very difficult to compensate for depending on the dance, but ultimately decides to let the matter drop.

Pushing too hard feels like it may come across as creepy, needy, or desperate. It might be fun to shake his booty with the boss lady, but if she’s not in a hurry to make it happen then there’s no reason for him to make it an issue of it at this time.

In the lull of conversation his mother leans down closer to his side. “Yer not upset about the dancin? Between that ‘n the whole veggie thing I figured you’d be a might bit annoyed.”

With an indifferent shrug, the colt shakes his head no. “A little, but more about the latter than the former. The survey won’t really be that much of a problem. As for the dancing, I’m not exactly thrilled she didn’t tell me before, but at least it ought’a earn me some good PR points with some of the folks out there. I figure I’ve probably irked a few of them, what with me calling them out, and a few hours of schmoozing with their daughters isn’t really that big of a deal. Hay, it may even be kinda fun. Besides, it’s getting late,” he points out, angling his horn towards the night sky visible through the balcony doors. “Aside from the bats here, which are the minority, most of the fillies will be getting sleepy pretty soon.”

The mare scoffs, sitting back up to her full height. “No way, colt. They may crash later, but I reckon they ain’t gonna be rearin fer bed anytime soon, what with bein at the royal palace and havin a chance to dance with his highness.”

The colt’s snout scrunches in consternation. His mom is more than likely right; while many may not care that much about Serpentus, exactly, the opportunity to dance with a real, live prince doesn’t come about very often. A random thought has Cure pausing mid-bite to ask a question of the princess. “What about the fillies who want to, but don’t end up getting drawn?”

An inclined brow prompts him to continue on. “There’s only one of me and like…” he pauses to do a very quick and likely inaccurate headcount of the number of females aged approximately eight to thirteen in the room, “... a couple hundred fillies present. Those are normally numbers I’m pretty okay with, but that means well over half will be going home disappointed.”

“I am sure some will choose not to participate,” she replies defensively. The unimpressed look he gives her prompts her to ask, “Do you have a suggestion? Bear in mind that there are dozens of colts here as well.”

Cure scoffs and rolls his eyes, flicking his right wing out in dismissal. He leans to his right and whispers to the mare, “With a five to one gender ratio they don’t need anything from me. As far as I’m concerned, Harmony all but hoofed them their winning ticket at conception.”

While she doesn’t necessarily appreciate his implication that females, by comparison, “lost,” she can’t help but begrudgingly concede his point. There is no point in denying that stallions have, in many ways, an unfair advantage in society. Or, perhaps, more accurately, they lack some significant disadvantages mares must overcome. Regardless of the perspective, it speaks well of the foal that, knowing full well the implications of the situation, he didn’t hesitate to hoof over a creation that will likely at some point eliminate the disparity.

Unaware of her internal musings, he straightens up in his seat and adds, “As for the fillies? I took the liberty of preparing a few things where my clinic was. Nothing fancy, mind you, but just a little something to show I care.”

“Was?” Celestia questions, instinctively turning to look in the vague direction of the castle courtyard, despite it being clear on the opposite side of the castle itself. It takes a second for Cure to realize she’s scrying his clinic’s former location, finding nothing there but a covered wagon and a section of exceedingly healthy looking grass. Head whipping back to the nuisance, she quickly asks, “When did you pack it up? I am sure I recall seeing it just earlier today!”

“While we were playing chess?” he innocently answers. “It’s not like beating you took that much of my attention,” he declares with a snort, turning to avoid her affronted look.

Duke Dandy, shocked at the statement, gawps while looking between the alicorns. “You were able to best her majesty?! At chess?!”

“He was not!”
“Easily,” he calmly lies at the same time.

Celestia’s scowl only deepens as the colt continues, “You should have seen the last game. Fell for a classic king’s gambit. Mate in… what? Ten moves?” he asks, turning to his mother.

Amethyst, barrel shaking with quiet laughter, nods her head as she swallows. “Can’t say I was payin much attention. Seemed mighty quick, sure ‘nuff.”

“Betrayal!” the ancient mare dramatically declares, holding her chest with her free hoof. Gaze now redirected at Cure’s mother, she shakes her head, tisking in disappointment. “I would expect such behavior from him, but from you, as well, Lady Minerva?”

“You say betrayal, I say loyalty,” Cure insists, wrapping his left wing around his mother in a hug. He spears the last shrimp on his plate, expertly spinning the remainder of his noodles, and softly moans in delight as he finishes his meal. A quick swig of his cider washes it all down, and a dab with his napkin removes the last bit of butter remaining on his muzzle. He looks around the table briefly, noting that most of the others are finishing their main entrees around the same time.

The serving mares seem to appear out of nowhere again, swapping out dinner plates for a selection of desserts and replacing empty glasses. As should be expected in the palace, the final course of the meal is just as robust as the main dish.

Cure blinks in surprise when nearly half of a pie is placed before each pony at the table, topped with four large scoops of vanilla ice cream and dollops of whipped cream in between them. He notes that the top of the pie’s colors shift like a rainbow, starting with red on the left and gradually blending to purple while moving clockwise.

“Zap apple pie?” he asks, a hint of awe creeping into his voice.

“Pardon?” Celestia replies, bewilderment evident in her features.

A closer analysis dashes his hopes on the rocks; the coloration is only surface deep. While the top crust has been dyed for appearances, his snout is telling him that the filling is no more than a mixture of typical berries.

“Oh nothing,” he says, waving the issue away. “I thought maybe this was a zap apple pie from the colors. I’ve only ever heard of them, so I was excited to try it.”

“I believe I have tried most kinds of apples, but I cannot recall a variety by that name.”

“Zap apples?” he repeats, meeting her uncomprehending gaze. “You know, from the Apple family?” Gesturing towards his dessert, he explains, “They’re rainbow colored like the pie, really hard to grow, and supposedly taste… ah fudge.” Realization dawns at the end of his statement, and the two alicorns share a brief panicked look.

“I am afraid you must be mistaken,” the princess quickly insists, attempting to cover his blunder. “While they are growing a variety of uniquely flavored and colored apples, none of them look like rainbows.”

The scent of confusion is positively wafting off of Dandy Dresser as the stallion looks between the two alicorns. He opens his muzzle to question how the colt that made said apples could make such a mistake, but a single glance out of the corner of the princess’s eyes has him clamping his muzzle shut.

“Now,” she continues, wiggling happily as she lifts up her fork, “eat your dessert. Many of the tickets should have been collected by now, and we do not want to keep everypony waiting.”

The colt grumbles in acknowledgment and start to dig in. “By the way, I’m teleporting a few of my virus trees in here. I don’t want to cause a scene, but I strongly recommend everypony from the east coast takes the antiviral one and everypony else does the vaccine.”

“Somepony is sick?” she questions, reflexively panning her gaze across the room as if she could somehow spot it. It wouldn’t blow his mind if she could, but she’s never indicated she has that ability.

“Sick or getting sick, yes. I was able to detect a few nasties in the air when we made our way through the room. The Bostrot table seemed to be the source, but I can’t be sure without doing some scans, which would involve me flinging magic in their direction. I’m not sure they’d be especially thrilled to experience that without a heads-up.”

“No. Likely not.” The mare deflates slightly and sighs aloud, nodding to give Cure permission to proceed. “Very well. I will instruct staff to take one as well. If you could place them near the exits then we can be sure to treat everypony upon their departure.”

“Sounds like a plan, boss.”

Despite the princess’s insistence that he hurries, none of the other tables are even close to being done with their meals. Unsurprising, given that they had to fetch their own food table-by-table instead of receiving one-on-one service.

That works out just fine because, as far as he’s concerned, the fillies at the table should get the first opportunity given their parents are the competition’s winners. Since his Serpentus identity is most familiar with Ebony Foil, Cure had tried to coax the shy bat to join him first. Despite her parents’ encouragement he was unsuccessful, so instead he turned to Static’s fillies to try his hoof with them.

He thought he may strike out with the entire table when the elder two politely demurred at his invitation. He can’t really blame them; they’re around double his own age and probably already dating stallions. Fortunately, Cyan Spark agrees at the strong urging of her parents and siblings, so the two make their way to the dance floor side by side.

Of course, a minor hurdle Cure faces with many of the fillies is the size difference. Ponies typically hit a growth spurt between ten and fifteen, depending on when they earn their Cutie Marks, which is unofficially accepted as a sign of a pony maturing.

That means that a lot of ponies who are only a few years older than the colt have already been in their growth phase for a while, leading to him being a whole head or two shorter than somepony that is relatively close in age.

It’s something he’s already experiencing with Ferric Shine and, to a lesser extent because of her tribe, Crosswind Drift. By the time Cure turns ten next year and begins naturally growing, Ferric will already be a year and a half into her growth phase, which means she may grow as much as three hooves in the same time he’ll be lucky to grow even one.

Him being an alicorn may change that, but even if he were to grow larger and faster, that means that he’ll find himself on the other side of the same equation with Glacial and Dawn unless they earn their marks in the near future.

It’s a problem that may never go away without him abusing his talent to alter their or his own physiology. If he ends up as large as the princess then having a marefriend, or possibly wife, that barely reaches his chest will look a little odd.

Fortunately, those are Future Cure’s problems to deal with, and may never be an issue at all given his talent and depending on whether the girls are okay with him altering their statures beyond what is typical.

With the stage mostly bereft of other ponies, many of whom are still enjoying their dinner, the two have most of the space to themselves. Some other much younger foals are as much wrestling as they are dancing under the watchful eyes of their parents, but everypony else seems content to sit back and see what their prince can do.

One particular pony stands out from the crowd, as does her assistant for the evening. Surprise Development, or SD for short, is Celestia’s appointed Royal Photographer. The two stand by on the edge of the dance floor, camera, film, flash bulb, and miscellaneous accessories at the ready.

Cure turns to look over his withers to the band as they finish with their current piece. He doesn’t know Cyan well enough to do anything too familiar, but he’s certain that he’ll end up chest to chest with at least a couple hopeful fillies over the course of the evening. Still, he decides it’s best to start everypony’s expectations somewhere that both he and his partner are comfortable with.

“Something a little lively?” he requests. A mischievous grin crosses the muzzle of the lead mare holding a trumpet and she nods in acceptance, turning to say something quietly to the rest of the band. He turns back and gives Cyan a big smile, casting Enlarge to match the taller filly’s height.

Despite her normally being a hoof and a half taller than him, he figures he probably still outweighs her by a bit. Knowing they should balance each other fairly closely, he spreads his wings back and rears up on his hind legs. Forelegs held wide in invitation, he gives her a look of confident assurance. “Don’t worry,” he calmly begins, “I’ve got really good balance on two legs. I won’t let you fall unless you really try.”

“You sure?” she whispers to not be overheard by the spectators. “I don’t normally…”

“Yep, I guarantee you’ll be fine. We aren’t going to try anything crazy, so there’s almost no chance that we’ll end up on our butts.”

Despite being the same height, his earth pony build is considerably thicker, making him nearly double the older girl’s width with the Enlarge spell applied. That gives her plenty of room to rest her hooves against his chest when she joins him on two legs. With that as their cue to begin, the band starts up with a peppy tune. It sounds almost comically old to the colt, who can only compare it to music Ed had heard when watching old Nick at Nite shows like Donna Reed, but it gets more than a few ponies bobbing their heads in tune, softly stomping, or clapping along in their seats.

With his forelegs holding her shoulders steady, Cure gingerly begins to shift his weight. He slowly glides to the left, guiding the unsure filly to follow as his hind legs start moving, sliding, twisting, and kicking with the tune.

Cyan starts off a little flat-hooved, barely shifting and swaying with her partner, but soon realizes he has her in a firm grip. The colt’s forelegs on her shoulders are unyielding, giving her free rein to shift her weight without any chance of falling.

There’s very little coordination between the pair as they shake their rears on the dance floor, but that doesn’t matter to the girl in the least. Laughter bubbles up from her core, escaping her as delighted giggles, and a smile stretches across her muzzle nearly from ear to ear. Her laughter is infectious, and Cure can’t help but join her as the pair twirl and dance around each other on the floor. The song seems to be a short one; it stops abruptly with the crash of a cymbal, shocking the duo from their dance.

Before they can even separate, laughter and cheering erupt from the nearest tables, embarrassing Cyan Spark to no end. Her cheeks ignite in a searing blush as he turns them both to face the crowd and the camera, and it only worsens when the colt presses against her side, draping his powerful wing over her back. The volume, and her blush, both seem to double when Cure tightly hugs the filly to his side and plants a chaste kiss on her left cheek. She also has to blink a few times to clear the spots out of her eyes from the camera pony’s flash.

“Thank you!” his calls, voice washing over the crowd. “Thank you all. And thank you, Lady Spark,” he says, retracting his wing and taking half of a step away while turning to face her. Frozen stock still, the filly doesn’t know what to do when His Highness scoops her left foreleg off the floor and plants another kiss on her fetlock. “I couldn’t have asked for a better partner for my first dance! Let’s have another round of applause for Miss Cyan Spark, Corporal Static Arc’s youngest daughter! And don’t forget, everypony - If your daughters would like a chance to shake their tails with me, have them deposit their tickets into the collection boxes ASAP!”

As much as he thought some fillies may be up for a go, he had not expected the near stampede.

Cure is aware that most colts would be looking for any reason to escape his situation, but he has to admit that he’s having a pretty fun time. The fillies have all been good sports, even a few that are daughters of the sergeants he called out earlier that night.

His current partner has to be the most adorable one he’s had so far. At just a little over six years old, the petite unicorn filly has been beaming the whole time. He knows the band chose the song on purpose; the instant the filly squealed in delight at being called, they gathered in a huddle before breaking to start a much slower, far more intimate waltz.

With a reversal of the spell he’d been using all evening, the colt had Reduced his stature by nearly a third. That put the pale cream colored filly’s head at just the right height for her to nuzzle up under his chin, leaning bodily into his chest and unsubtly drinking in the scent of his mane.

It would have been far more awkward, but the first words out of her mouth were, “You smell just like dam’s brownies!” before she enthusiastically leaned into his chest. Everypony within earshot got a good laugh, and the parents were grateful that he played along without complaint.

If she gave the side of his neck a couple grooming licks, he wasn’t going to call her out for it.

As the song comes to an end, Cure is relieved he can finally go get himself a drink. He keeps himself cool and well hydrated via his portal rings, but he still greatly enjoys the act of downing a tall glass of ice water when the opportunity presents itself. He bids the filly good night with a kiss to the fetlock, causing her tail to wag so hard her whole back half flops from side to side behind her. With a giggle filled bounce, she turns and runs to her parents and is promptly scooped up into a hug.

The colt briefly feels a pang of jealousy at the sight; as much as he cares for Amethyst, she hasn’t been part of the family long enough for the bond between them to fully develop. She’s his mom and he cares for her and will do horrible, horrible things to anypony that even thinks of doing her harm… but she isn’t at the same level as his dam or Title. Not yet, at least.

Dispelling his Reduce, he shakes off the thought and begins heading off of the dance floor, pausing when a pair of unicorn fillies briskly approach just as he steps down. The one in the lead has a bright yellow coat and looks to be around fifteen, while the other is lime green and is only a little taller than Cure, himself. Both young mares have chocolate brown manes and, judging by their scents, are almost certainly siblings.

“Your highness!” the elder calls, voice barely rising above the crowd. “We need you!”

“You need me?” he echoes, head tilted in confusion. “If this is about dancing,” he begins, cutting off when she vigorously shakes her head to the negative.

She leans down closer to whisper in his ear. “It’s my sister! She’s been feeling really sick the last few days and I think she’s getting worse!”

“Your sister?” he asks, eyes drifting to the younger filly. She doesn’t look sick, not that looking at somepony is an excellent way to make a diagnosis. In fact, if anything, she looks kind of nervous. The longer his eyes stay on her, the more he picks up the scent of her growing anxiety.

“Not her!” the elder insists, drawing his attention back to herself. She raises her hoof and points towards the doors leading further into the castle, explaining, “She wanted to be away from the noise, so she’s laying down in a room on the other side of the hallway. I am so sorry to ask, but could you please spare her a moment of your time? She was really looking forward to this evening, and to be cooped up alone feeling ill is just so unlucky!”

Cure barely holds back a sigh. This absolutely has to be some kind of trap. He’s already mentally ruled out changelings as being likely, though a voice in the back of his mind seems to call out that this is the kind of thing a changeling would try. Then he considers that the palace is a less than ideal spot to foalnap him, especially when his absence will be noticed within a matter of minutes. In fact, as the thought crosses his mind, he notes the princess is subtly keeping him within her peripheral vision, likely wondering why two unfamiliar fillies rushed to intercept him before he could get his drink.

He chews the inside of his cheek and shifts from side to side, for all appearances considering their request. While putting on his show, he sends a Message to the princess. << These girls are saying their sister is sick, boss. The younger one is way too nervous, so I’m pretty sure that’s a lie. It sounds like a trap, but I can’t figure out their angle. They smell like real ponies to me. Should I follow them to help her or do you want to take care of this another way? >>

He gets the impression of a disappointed sigh as she replies in a tone like she’s talking to somepony that’s kind of slow, << If you suspect something is a trap you do not simply walk into it, Cure. I will ask Lt. Spear to bring a squad of guards with a medic to meet you in the hallway. Delay them for a moment so she has an opportunity to get into position. >>

With a minute dip of his chin to show he understands as he says, “Well, we can’t have her missing out on the festivities, can we? Just how old is your sister, anyway?”

“Fourteen,” both answer at the same time, the younger’s voice barely above a whisper.

“Ah, okay. Well, first things first, I need to get permission from your parents.” He holds a hoof up to forestall any arguments from the yellow filly, insisting, “Except in a life or death emergency, I am required to get permission to heal a minor from a parent or guardian. Now,” he begins in a more commanding tone, “take me to your parents so I can get permission to help your sister.”

The smell of anxiety goes through the roof and is now blasting off of both girls, saturating the air in a bubble around them.

The older of the pair turns to the younger, insisting, “You take him to dam and dad. I’m going to tell her that we’re on the way.”

“Huh-uh,” the colt denies, stepping sideways to cut off her escape. “You will both come with me to meet your parents, then, as a group, we will go see how your sister is doing.”

“But-”

“That was not a request, I’m afraid.”

The older filly freezes like a deer in headlights at the order, but the younger one has apparently had enough. With a quickness that Cure had not expected, the unicorn turns tail and darts away, disappearing into the crowd so quickly that her sister can only squawk in surprise.

“Don’t even think of it,” he warns, stepping close enough to keep her within reach. Even though he is several hooves shorter, the filly immediately yields to his command.

<< We’ve got a runner, boss. Better tell those guards in the hallway to keep an eye out for her. She might be going to tell her sister that the jig is up. >>

<>

<>

<< Ah. Excellent. Even if they do not volunteer their parents’ identity, we can always determine who they are from the guest list. >>

“So, what’s it going to be? Do you want to take me to your folks,” he offers, then pans his gaze to the front of the room, “or would you rather come with me and talk to the princess instead?”

Her eyes follow his to the princess, who is very obviously looking in their direction. It doesn’t surprise him in the least when he hears a whimper escape her lips.

“Thank Celestia, the maker, Harmony, Buddha, Jesus, or whoever!” the colt loudly sighs, slowly sinking into the almost scalding water of his bath. “I dunno ‘bout you ma, but my dogs are barkin up one helluva storm.”

“Uh huh,” she disbelievingly grunts, dipping a hoof in then reeling back. “Maker above, colt! Yer gonna cook yerself alive in that!”

“Please,” he says, blatantly rolling his eyes, “I’m keeping my insides the right temperature, mostly. Even if my hooves aren’t really hurting, the heat still feels pretty damn nice.” Wings and legs spread in all directions, he lets out a loud, long groan of relief. “That does it,” he declares, “I’m getting us a hot tub at home. One big enough for all of us to enjoy at the same time.”

“Sounds good ta me, colt. Just one problem; where in tarnation do ya think yer gonna put it?”

“I dunno, ma. How do you think everypony’ll feel about having a basement?”

The mare barks out a laugh at the suggestion, shaking her head in disbelief. “Ya can’t jus dig a hole under the house, ya nincompoop. You’ll have the whole livinroom collapsin on top‘a us!”

Thrusting a defiant hoof in her direction and, not completely inadvertently throwing a hooffull of hot water, Cure argues back, “That wouldn’t happen! I’m not some kinda moron that’d just hollow out a space and call it a day! I’m talkin support beams, reinforced concrete, some ventilation… the works! Don’t forget, a decent part of the house already has bits of my plant under it.

“Besides, I can convert the closet under the steps into another staircase and put it under the storage room with the water heater in it. That’ll make the plumbing a little easier at the same time. Wait,” he pauses, head cocking to the side in consideration, “is radon a thing here?”

“I… don’t know?”

“Me neither,” he admits. “Not a whole lot of ponies have basements. Do you know anypony that didn’t smoke but died of lung cancer?”

A look of panic crosses the mare’s face. “No. That can happen?!”

“I mean, it can, but having a basement with radon intrusion massively increases the risk. I can’t really think of anypony in town that has one, though.”

“Ponies ain’t the best diggers, in case ya haven’t noticed.”

“True. I’d probably line the basement with lead just to be safe, though. I’m pretty sure that will stop it as long as it’s one continuous, sealed piece, which isn’t very difficult thanks to Transmutation.”

“Or,” she makes a face like she’s explaining that water is wet, “you can put the thing outside and save yerself the trouble without riskin somepony endin up with lung cancer of all tha damn things!”

He almost argues the point on reflex, but pauses to consider it as a viable suggestion. With his vacuum insulation method and a well designed cover, there’s a good possibility that a hot tub would be viable outside almost year-round. There might be a few weeks in January and February that he’s forced to drain it instead of risking a pipe bursting, but with how much magic is at his disposal keeping it from freezing solid should be easy. Even if it does, fixing whatever breaks will be ridiculously easy with magic.

“You probably won’t be able to use it when I’m here for school.”

Shrugging indifferently, she points out, “Don’t think anypony’ll mind, colt. ‘Sides, I reckon yer gonna find a way ta make it work without ya by tha time ya take off. Now no more stallin!” she growls, folding her forelegs across her chest as she leans against the edge of the tub. “Tell me what happened with them fillies tryin ta trick ya inta followin ‘em. All tha princess said was it was fillies bein fillies and not usin their brains.”

“Not much more to it, ma. They’re just thirsty for the D,” he matter of factly answers. With a shrug of his wings, he adds, “You know how it is.”

A look of utter disgust mars the mare’s face as she almost wretches to the side. “What tha fuck?! Ya ain’t even ten!”

“They don’t know how old I am.”

“They damn sure know yer not an adult!”

“Neither was the filly that was waiting for me. I almost feel bad for the poor girl.”

“Well don’t!” she sternly growls, face twisted in anger. “They deserve whatever’s comin to ‘em, I say!”

“Aside from whatever their parents do with them, I don’t think much of anything is coming their way at all.” Seeing her look of incomprehension, he calmly explains, “No crime was committed. Really, since she’s underage and my age is a state secret, technically they didn’t even attempt to commit a crime. I feel like there should be some kinda law against exposing yerself like that, but I guess that would be impossible to enforce when everypony’s walkin around with the stuff out all the time.

“Either way, the only thing they’re truly guilty of is embarrassing the everloving shit out of their parents and themselves, but only a hoofful of guards know anything happened at all. Legally, their only punishment was a very stern talking-to from Lieutenant Spear.”

“That can’t be right!”

He shrugs helplessly with his wings, the motion briefly lifting them from the water. “Dunno what to tell ya, ma. It’s not like they forced me to go anywhere. You could make an argument for coercion of some kind since they made it sound like the sister was sick, but it hardly seems worth the trouble given the public backlash that would come their way. They literally never laid a hoof on me, nor did they use magic in any way. The worst I suffered was a faceful of their sister’s scent.” Which pales in comparison to what I got a taste of this morning, he thinks but doesn’t say. “The poor girl wasn’t just in heat; she was flat out cookin underneath that tail.”

“So, what was their plan? Trick ya inta followin ‘em and… what? Hold ya down fer their sister ta mount ya?”

Snorting out a laugh, he shakes his head no. “I think the term ‘plan’ is extremely generous, all things considered. And no. As far as I understand it, they were under the impression that the Alicorn of Life’s urges may be twice as strong as a normal colt’s.”

“Gee,” she starts, feigning wonder, “I can’t imagine how they may’a come ta that conclusion.”

Cure wilts a little under her accusatory stare. “Still say it was funny.”

“It was. Is. Whichever. Didn’t make it a good idea,” she bluntly notes.

“I know!” he huffs, throwing his hooves up in surrender, the motion causing him to briefly dip underwater. “How the frick is it that every damned thing I do ends up coming back to bite me in the ass?! It’s like I can’t sniff a fuckin flower without a bee shooting straight up my snout or something!”

Flatly, she responds, “You gave yourself a second set ‘a danglies on the day of your freaking coronation ‘cause yer dumb mother dared ya. It was the first and only coronation of an alicorn that the nation’s seen since the princess’s own almost a millennium ago. Tell me… What kinda positive result could ya possibly have expected from somethin like that?”

Cure huffs and looks away, grumbling something she can’t catch under his breath.

She leans over the tub, hiking her brow up in an expectant look. “Hmm?” she sarcastically hums in question.

“It would probably generate a lot of curiosity in a few years when I’m old enough,” he weakly answers, half submerging his head under the water.

Amethyst closes her eyes and shakes her head in disappointment. “Colt,” she begins in a condescending tone, “I reckon since ya ain’t got a lotta experience walkin ‘round with a vagina on ya -”

Cure inadvertently sucks in a snoutful of water, laughing at his mother’s unexpected quip.

Unperturbed by the not-quite-drowning foal, she waits for him to recover and continues, “-but take it from somepony who’s had theirs a few years now. Most mares ain’t tryin ta find anything weird ta get crammed back there. Ya feel me?”

“I… am listening,” he diplomatically responds.

“Good. A stallion havin a second package might be a curiosity. I reckon more’n a few mares would be a little interested. The problem is that it’s different. It’s weird. And like I said, ain’t nopony wantin somethin weird crammed inside ‘em.” She paused a beat with a far off look, then amends, “For the most part. There’s always a few, but I can’t say I recommend puttin any part of yerself in, or even near them.

“Besides, stallions make enough of a mess with just one ‘a them things, even when it's... well, contained. Ain’t nomare out there wantin blasted across their frontside every time they’re gettin serviced.”

He mulls it over a moment in silence, finally giving the mare a nod of understanding.

“Good. As fer ‘generatin curiosity,’ as ya said, yer an alicorn stallion.”

“What?!” he shouts in mock surprise, whipping his head back to look at his own wings. “Well I’ll be…”

“Shut it, brat. Mah point is ya ain’t gotta try ta generate nothin. Take a bath every day or so, brush yer teeth, only do yer business where yer supposed ta, and I don’t think it’ll take a whole lot else ta have mares linin up ‘round tha block ta lift their tails fer ya.” She sighs and shakes her head despondently. “And ain’t that a thing ta tell a foal who ain’t even ten years old.”

“So… you’re saying I should give up the game? Go out nude so I can put the rumor to bed?”

She shrugs noncommittally and tilts her head side to side. “Maybe? I dunno. Ya kinda screwed yerself what with them Arabian fillies gettin a front row seat. Showin somethin else might just cause ponies to ask even more questions. Questions I ain’t sure you want ta be answerin… or even have asked, fer that matter. May be best ta let tha matter lie fer a while, see if it goes away on its own.”

Cure draws a deep breath, causing his barrel to bob higher on the surface. He blows it all out in a long, drawn out sigh. The drop in buoyancy dips him underwater, leaving his last dregs of air bubbling up to the surface. For a solid ten count only his horn juts above the water, while his ears lay limply on the surface.

Amethyst barely manages to resist the urge to impale a bar of soap on the bony protrusion. The act would probably cause a normal unicorn discomfort if not outright pain, but the colt is made of significantly sterner stuff. Still, that doesn’t strike her as a terrible “motherly” move, so instead she forces herself to wait patiently for him to come back up.

“I think we got a little off track,” she observes aloud once he rejoins her and clears his airway.

Ears flicking to shake off the excess water, Cure nods and sweeps his mane back with his right foreleg. “Right. So anyhow, I guess they figured that if I got a whiff of the one’s scent and had the opportunity laid out on a silver platter, I wouldn’t be able to resist and… I dunno? Jump on her right then and there?

“I was able to peek around Spear when she opened the door, and Sweet Harmony did I get an eyeful. The room is a smaller hall used for more intimate events, but right now it’s being used to store extra furniture.”

“Intimate events, huh?” she questions with a chuckle.

“Not quite that intimate, I bet. Not unless Tia has some wild parties I don’t know about. Anyhow, the filly had levitated a couch over by the door so it, and she, were the first things you’d see when you walked in. She’d laid herself on her side, mostly facing away with her hooves dangling off to the right, then flipped her tail out of the way so she would be ‘presenting herself’ to me as soon as I walked in the room.”

Amethyst leans away in shock, eyes wide and brow nearly in her mane. With a hint of begrudging admiration, she can’t help but comment, “Bold of her.”

“Right? I was worried she may be the victim of abuse at first, but thankfully that doesn’t seem to be the case.

“Good point. That ain’t somethin a filly her age coulda come up with.”

“Mhmm. Apparently they got the idea from one of the older sister’s friends. It worked well enough on the stallion she was chasing, so why not give it a whirl on me?”

“I imagine it would probably work on a lot’a stallions, especially with the scent and all.” Her mood instantly shifts back to anger as she adds, “Still disgusting given yer age. Both hers and yer own.”

”I know, but imagine if it had worked.”

It doesn’t take more than a few seconds for her to reach the same conclusion he had. “She’d be set fer life.”

“Exactly. Or, at least the next couple decades. Given there was no crime involved, it seems like a pretty low risk, high reward gamble. All it cost them was their parents’ ire and a princess-sized pile of embarrassment.

“Still, it was a dumb idea. I mean… even if we were compatible and I walked in the room, ripped my pants off without a single word, and immediately started pounding away, what are the odds I would finish before every guard in the castle - likely including the six hundred or so attending the ball - would start tearing the place apart to find me? Not that they would need to since I had my peytral on me anyhow. Tia woulda found me in less than five seconds.”

“Ehh,” she wavers a hoof in the air, “stallions can be pretty quick their first time. It might’a worked if you were a normal colt. And a few years older.”

“Maybe, I guess. Still, my balls don’t even produce sperm yet.”

The mare bursts out laughing, leaning heavily against the lip of the tub. “Gotta add that’n ta tha list ‘a shit I never thought I’d hear said out loud.”

Cure shrugs again and bobs his head in agreement. “Water should be fine for you now,” he says, scooting out of the way for her to climb in. “I cooled it down with copious amounts of pee. You’re welcome.”

Dismissing the colt’s snarky comment, a quick test confirms the temperature has fallen from distinctly uncomfortable to barely tolerable. Amethyst gingerly eases herself into the tub, making her way to the deeper part at the center.

Dipping below the surface for only a moment, Amethyst comes back up to find the colt floating just before her invitingly. She dutifully dips her forelegs under his outstretched wings, crossing fetlocks over his chest and pulls his back against her barrel to rest her chin on top of his head just barely brushing against his horn.

The mare takes a deep breath, slowly exhaling out through her snout. “This is pretty nice,” she easily agrees.

“Right? These things are a bitch to maintain without magic, though. Well, relatively speaking, they are. Without the industry to make supplies it would be impossible. You need a filter, a water heater, a pump to keep the water moving - which I need to see how that’s being done here - and you have to constantly put chemicals in them to keep them clean, clear, and the pH balance in check. Bromine, I’m pretty sure. I know they use chlorine in pools, but I think that does bad things to skin in hot water.”

“You don’t know?”

“No. I haven’t submerged myself in hot, chlorinated water to see what happens. I can tell you from my trip to the spa that salt water dries you out, but that’s kinda common knowledge. We don’t need any of that crap anyhow. Warming heats up the water, Prestidigitation or Cleaning cleans the tub itself, and any impurities in the water can be Transmuted easily enough, including the no-doubt loads of fur and hair that will accumulate.

“Now’s the perfect time for one, too. Nothin beats a good nighttime soak when the air outside has started cooling off. Add in an ice cold beverage of your choice and it’s about as close to heaven as you can get without dyin, which is an experience I can’t say I recommend.”

“Noted,” she dryly remarks, carefully avoiding delving into the topic any further. “Tha lil figurines of ya offerin ta dance were nice. Wouldn’t mind somethin like ‘em myself.”

“Sure. Give me an idea of what you want and I can whip it up no problem. It’s not like shaping wood is a challenge for me.”

“I thought that was Madame Adiah’s specialty,” she remarks with a chuckle.

The colt barks out a laugh, sending a spray of water shooting across the surface. “Unfortunately, you would be one hundred percent correct. Every single freakin stallion I’ve treated in that area so far has gotten rock hard ‘cause of my magic. How fucked up is it that I’ve seen so much pony anatomy that I don’t even blink from a when a stallion in the same room with me is sportin a big, honkin boner?”

“Pretty fucked up, colt,” the mare readily agrees. “Either way, ya ought’a make somethin like that for the princess ‘fore we go. She looked a little jealous when she saw ya only made enough for the fillies in attendance.”

“Oh she got something too, don’t you worry.” He feels her look down on his head from above, silently prodding him to explain. “The cake wasn’t the only thing I sent to her room. If I know the boss lady, she’s probably cuddled up to an adult sized Serpentus body pillow slash plushie at this very minute. I’m kinda curious how long it took her to realize it wasn’t the real thing when she walked in her room.”

“You... didn’t give it a...”

“No, mom. It is not anatomically correct.” A thought crosses his mind and he clarifies, “Or maybe it is, since I’ve never given my adult puppet all the stallion bits. Either way, putting a full sized me doll with a gigantic dong and ballsack dangling underneath it in the princess’s bed is just a liiiittle more blunt than even I am willing to risk.”

“Eh, somethin fer her ta look forward to.”

“Still, a little presumptuous, dontchya think?”

“I reckon so. There ain’t a lot ‘a options for her if she wants foals, but I suppose there ain’t no point in bein crass about it. The princess is a damn lot less uptight than I expected, but that may be goin a bit too far.”

“Exactly.”

The pair sit in silence for the better part of a minute. Amethyst starts humming a tune; a catchy, upbeat song Cure recognizes from the evening. With the colt hugged tightly to her chest, she lazily sways and dances in the water, twirling the pair slowly while the warmth soaks deep into their bones.

“Thanks for coming with me, ma.”

“Sure thing, honey.”

“I think I’m ready to go home.”

“Feels like we’ve been here a minute, don’t it?”

“It does,” he agrees with a shallow nod. “I miss everypony.”

“I miss my beautiful coat.” A beat passes. “And the girls. And my wives. And the babies.”

Several more seconds pass in silence. “And that massage table 'a yers.”

“Dad, too?”

“Oh, right. He has his moments, I suppose.”

“Poor pa,” Cure solemnly commiserates.

“I don’t hear him complainin. He knows his role.”

“Breeding apparatus?”

Bobbing her head, she notes, “He’s a darn decent cuddler too. Nice ‘n warm and, since he started at tha gym, has that delicious firmness in all’a tha right places.”

“Well we all have our purposes, I suppose.”

“Indeedy-doo.”

“Speakin of cuddles, do ya think the girls’ll be up for a sleepover tomorrow night?”

“Mmm… I dunno. We won’t get home ‘till pretty late, so… eh, who ‘m I foolin? You ask their parents if they can spend the night my money’s on ’em agreein in a heartbeat.” Head tilted sideways to meet his eyes, she points out, “You said girls.”

“Heavy counts,” he answers with a chuckle. “If you got seven fillies and one colt are ya supposed to say ‘the guys?’” he muses. Leaning his head away and craning his neck to meet her face to face, he gives her a look of disappointment. “That’s very sexist of you, mother. I expected better.”

“Uh huh. That’s me all right. Card carrying misogynist. Undercover division.”

“Preach, sister!” he cheers, burrowing back under her chin, careful to avoid poking her with his horn. “This country’s gone ta hell every since we started letting mares vote! And don’t even get me started on you-know-who. Clearly we’d all be better off with a stallion in charge, just like most nations of the world have figured out.” It doesn’t matter that he can’t see her face; Cure can practically feel the quirked brow aimed at the top of his melon. “Not me, though,” he cooly adds. “I don’t think it would take five years for me to become a tyrant. To thine own self be true and all that, ya know?”

“Uh huh. You ready to get out? All this heat’s makin me sleepy, ‘n it’s already way past my bedtime.”

“Soundin old, there, momma.”

Scoffing, the mare replies, “I don’t care one whit. I’m tired.”

With one last, deep sigh the colt bobs his head. He reaches up to nuzzle his snout against the underside of her chin, peppering the length of her muzzle with nuzzley kisses. “C’mon ma, it’s been a long day. Let’s get some rest.”

Author's Note

ugh... I'm out of practice. I've proofed this a half dozen times, but I'll eat my new shiny ballcap if there's not a dozen or more typos in it. That's okay, though. I can live with that. Spellcheck becomes kind of worthless when you're trying to type how people and/or ponies speak. Deed and Amy make hunting down mistakes a bit of a challenge.

So, that break lasted much longer than I expected, and it was way less productive than I'd hoped. I don't know if there will be a chapter next week, but I am at least getting back into the swing of things.

Thanks for continuing to read, rate, and comment on the story, folks! Enjoy!

Chapter 120: Missed Opportunities

Saturday, September 12th, 909 AB (the next morning)

As much as Cure would like to sleep in, especially after staying up unusually late the night before, Madame Adiah’s schedule for the morning simply doesn’t allow it. The train back to Baltimare is leaving at ten o’clock, which means he absolutely must wrap up all of her affairs and dispose of her possessions by about ten thirty at the latest.

The trains in Equestria are famously punctual, especially those coming and going from the capital, but the range of his portals and the time it takes to descend the mountain safely should give him about an hour of wiggle room, give or take.

That doesn’t mean he isn’t going to be a little rushed; the zebra puppet has appointments with competition participants and a few last minute walk-ins from six o’clock clear up until nine thirty. The fact that he’s had to turn so many guardsponies away has been a source of frustration, but there is simply nothing the zebra puppet can do for ponies that don’t reside within a hundred or so kilometers of the capital.

The fall estrus season usually hits Canterlot around the beginning of September. The effect then propagates across the nation like the ripples in a pond, spreading to nearby Detrot within a few days, but taking several weeks to reach the cities further away.

Because of the asynchronous nature of the season’s start date, Adiah has had to explain to more than a few unfortunate guards, not to mention other travelers, that there was no way for her to help them have more than one foal or choose their gender. Until a mare has an egg waiting to be fertilized, there is simply no safe, guaranteed way to help them get pregnant.

Cure is almost certain he could artificially induce estrus. He knows he could at least force the biological processes into action, but it isn’t something he can do in a single shot. He is also a little wary of what might result from such a pregnancy, even if he’s not as concerned as he was before. As best he can figure, if reviving a stillborn foal in the womb didn’t result in anything abnormal, knocking a mare up outside of the normal two normal months window should probably be fine.

Still, messing with a pony’s hormones is not a once and done thing. Ensuring he achieves the right balance is something that will require some experimenting and fine tuning. While achieving something like that would be par for the course for Prince Serpentus, any treatment Cure can think of that would be safe and effective would be beyond the abilities he would be willing to showcase from some unknown, random zebra shaman.

As with a million other things, the idea goes into the ‘deal with it later’ bin in his mind. Perhaps after the January births are complete he can work with the Baltimare RHA to find a group of volunteers for a medical study. There is little doubt in his mind that Dr. Care would leap at the opportunity to put her name down as the lead physician on such a study, and Baltimare University would probably appreciate being involved in one of his highness’s projects.

That should free Cure up from having to do what may be the most dreaded portion of any medical study: statistics and data analysis. That means there’s only one other truly challenging difficulty to overcome, the initial startup and funding of the endeavor. While he may not have any expenses of his own, other ponies still need to be paid and, in any project in existence, there will always be a big pile of unforeseen expenses.

Fortunately, the colt has a fantastic idea for that, even if he’s sure to catch some flak for how he pulls it off. That’s all for later in the morning, though. As the time for sunrise fast approaches, Cure, snuggled belly to belly against his mom, Teleports a Serpentus clone into his room.

Foregoing his regalia, the foal puppet makes its way out the door, greeting the guardsmares stationed in the royal hall. As the young alicorn had fully expected, not a single one makes even the slightest move to stop him as he heads for the princess’s room. In fact, both mares seem downright thrilled to allow the prepubescent colt to march straight into the mare’s chambers, smiling happily as they rush to open the door.

What is surprising is the cloying wall of fragrance that greets him only a few hoofsteps inside the room; a scent he had banished a few days prior that has now reasserted its presence with great vigor.

Edward had read more than his fair share of literature intended specifically to excite the reader; there’s certainly no shortage of it on Earth’s internet, and despite Equus’ technology lagging behind by a century or three, the far more liberal attitudes towards sex means it’s not difficult to find here either. He need only look in his moms’ collections to find some, or, failing that, go down the street to Rising’s house if he wants to find a local source of production.

Amongst the wide array of apparent universal constants, one thing in particular is applicable to his current situation: genitalia, as a rule, be they male or female in origin, almost universally, for lack of a better word, stink to some degree or another.

Contrary to expectations, even accounting for their much sharper sense of smell, ponies’ bodies normally stink quite a bit less than humans. Cure isn’t sure how much of that is due to having a coat instead of bare skin and how much of it is because pony sweat seems to have a completely different chemical composition. Due to cultural imperatives, ponies tend to be more aware of cleanliness when using the bathroom as well. Because of their stronger sense of smell and the lack of layers of clothing, making sure to clean thoroughly is crucial to avoid drawing the wrong kinds of attention.

Regardless of those considerations, nopony has ever tried to claim that anypony’s musk is objectively a pleasant scent. More than a few authors whose works Ed had perused described some kind of sweet, floral or fruit-like aroma; an impossibility given those smells are the result of evaporative oils secreted by plants that have evolved over millennia designed to appeal to and attract pollinating insects.

While sounding exciting in some specific situations, any creature exuding such a scent as part of their normal bouquet would inevitably find the results to be exceedingly unpleasant. Doubly so in a society where wearing much in the way of clothing is unusual, especially since most outfits almost never cover those parts in particular.

The very idea of somepony’s crotch becoming a bee magnet was one of the reasons why Adiah’s creations targeted the taste buds of the partner instead of the fun bits belonging to the recipient of affection. Naturally, the other reason is that creating some enzymes that adhere to appropriate fluids and release sugars to override their taste is a much simpler and user-friendly process compared to what would be necessary to alter said genetalia’s flavor directly.

The only reason anycreature associates the scents of another creature’s equipment with excitement is because they have formed a mental link between the smell’s presence and the expected upcoming release of glorious endorphins into their system. Just like most alcoholic beverages, the flavor in and of itself is not exactly pleasant, but the result of consumption, either directly from the source orally or indirectly via the olfactory system, brings about a result that one ends up associating with a pleasant experience.

While the musky, rich scent of her majesty’s majesty doesn’t carry the delightful raspberry and vanilla scent that she normally shampoos with, she has at least bathed recently enough that the normal, unavoidable smells a pony accrues throughout a day aren’t quite so prevalent. The overall result is something that, if not exactly appealing at the moment, is something Cure is confident he could become quite enamored with.

Eyes quickly adjusting to the low light, Cure discovers the probable cause of her heat’s resurgence. He hadn’t thought much about giving the princess a body pillow; it was just a cute, somewhat amusing joke. Just because his intentions were humorous, that doesn’t mean he wasn’t thorough with its design. Despite being filled with soft, pillowy material, the surface of the doll is extremely authentic, down to its very own scent; a copy of his own natural oils with a hint of rich, foresty air.

The princess must have appreciated it more than he had expected her to. Taking the term “body pillow” to its natural conclusion, she has completely mounted the doll from above, her forelegs wrapped tightly around its neck and wings draped lazily alongside its barrel. Criminally long hind legs sandwich the plush’s own, and both sets of hind hooves dangle just slightly off the nearest corner of her bed. Aside from the gentle rise and fall of her barrel, there is only one other source of motion in the room.

Waves of teal, purple, and blue sway gently in an unseen ethereal wind as the princess’s tail, hiked nearly straight up off her rear, lazily swings from side to side. Even without his eidetic memory, it’s a sight the colt could never possibly forget; a sight that no doubt millions of ponies have fantasized about countless times over the years.

Normally, seeing a vagina is part and parcel of everyday pony life. There’s not a mare or filly in his circles of family or friends whose privates he hasn’t seen, either with his own eyes, via his talent, or as a vague outline through the aura emitted via his horn. For better or worse, it’s just something that happens in a nudist society and, barring exceptional situations, he’s conditioned himself to not even bat an eye at the sight.

That is not the case here, however.

For the very first time in his short life, Cure has a completely unobscured, front row seat to a likely future partner’s aroused vagina. One that is fertile, ready to breed, and all but dripping with the need to be filled.

It takes longer to wrench his eyes away from the sight than is even remotely acceptable, and he can only send a thanks to the maker that he isn’t a few years older. He would like to think that fighting back his instincts would be easy, but after that brief experience he can only wonder if the fillies were on to something about his urges last night at the party.

A harsh shake of the puppet’s head clears any inappropriate thoughts as he makes his way further into the darkened room. The hollow, sickly feeling of shame washes over the colt as he mentally berates himself. Nudist or not, Princess Celestia does not deserve somepony waltzing into her private quarters and open-mouth gaping at her even more private quarters in such a manner, regardless of what kind of relationship may develop in the future.

Despite the mental arousal, lacking any physical stimulation neither of his bodies react how a young male’s normally would. As uncomfortable as it may be to get a boner in the princess’s presence, he would be absolutely and completely mortified to have his mother wake up to find him fully unsheathed and poking her in the belly.

Quickly moving himself to the opposite side of the bed, Cure happens upon something that, thankfully, helps him mentally push away his disappointment in himself for the moment.

Carelessly discarded, lying on the floor on the far side of the princess’s bed is a familiar piece of waxed cardboard paper; the remains of the princess’s midnight snack. The cake in its entirety has been banished to the void of the elder alicorn’s stomach. Only a single, half lapped-up streak of icing remains, no doubt smeared across the surface in a very unladylike swipe of the mare’s tongue. Even the scent of chocolate is completely drowned out by the dried remnants of pony saliva.

Cure can’t quite tell if she has chocolate smeared all over her muzzle. With her forelegs folded at the fetlocks crossed underneath the pillow’s neck, the princess’s face is all but buried in its chin, pressing down with the weight of her own head to wrap her up on three sides. Only her half folded ears and gigantic horn are visible, the latter jutting proudly like a tower over the bed.

The colt quietly pads his way closer, scooting the discarded cardboard out of the way and rearing up with his forelegs resting on either side of his present’s head. The princess hums contently as she nuzzles further into the pillow. Her wings twitch like a sleeping cat’s paws and her back half sways left and right, then grinds harder down into the pillow’s featureless groin.

As much as he feels bad intruding on her privacy like this, Cure can’t stop an errant thought from crossing his mind: What would he pay right now to have Luna’s ability to peer into dreams and catch a glimpse of whatever the mare is imagining? Probably not a whole lot, given she said she could tell when her sister has done so, but he’s not so deluded as to deny that the temptation would be there if he had the power. Especially when, given the way she is laying on his double, it is entirely probable that he is featuring prominently in her dreams.

He quickly pushes the thought aside as incredibly scummy to even consider. Unintentionally intruding is one thing, especially when they both thought her symptoms had been previously addressed. Using magic to intentionally perv on the princess’s mind is a whole flying leap beyond the line of what’s acceptable, and he can only imagine the violence he would unleash on somepony doing something like that to him.

Leaning forward enough and twisting to the right, Cure brushes his cheek along the top of her muzzle as he softly calls out to the princess to wake her up. “Oh, TiiiAAaa~” he quietly coos, singing out her name. “It’s time for you to bring light into the lives of all your little ponies!” A very unladylike snort erupts from her snout, blowing the fur of his pillow out of the way. A tremendous yawn follows behind it, blasting heated funkiness directly into his face.

The colt’s ears pin back and he feels his mane sag from the humidity as he recoils away, frantically waving a hoof in his face to dispel the toxic cloud. “Eww! Alicorn morning breath is gross! Why doesn’t it smell like chocolate?!”

“My breath does not stink,” she quietly grumbles.

“How would you know? What do you do, go around breathin on ponies and askin ‘em if they liked the flavor? Here’s a test - Give your foreleg a big, wet, sloppy lick, then let it dry before you give it a sniff. You’ll be shocked and dismayed at the results.” Left hoof bracing against the bed, he reaches into his mane and pulls a minty leaf from seemingly nowhere, holding it out in offering just before her snout. “Here, boss, do the world a favor. Open wide for a second and maybe we can turn that dragon’s breath into something a little more palatable.”

Cure’s beaming smile is met by a single magenta eye cracking open only far enough to glare in his direction.

“Aww, don’t be like that. Poor Prince Snugpentus hasn’t done anything so awful as to deserve being exposed to that gnarliness any longer than he already has. Unlike me, this fella can’t heal the damage you’re inflicting, ya know?”

“Why?” she groans, twisting onto her right side to get away from the menace, half rolling off of the pillow’s barrel and pulling its floppy right wing up to cover her face.

Ducking under her horn to avoid losing an eye, the colt tosses the leaf aside and innocently comments, “Gonna need you to be more clear, boss. Why what?”

A breathy growl escapes the mare as she clarifies, “Why do you wake me up early every day, Cure? What could I possibly have done to warrant such cruelty?”

“Uh huh. Cruelty,” he says mockingly while rolling his whole head with his eyes. “I’m so cruel to the poor almighty sun goddess that I surprised her with cake and a priceless nah-nights companion.”

“Priceless?” she scoffs.

“Darn tootin!” he exclaims, right hoof and wing both thrusting defiantly into the air. “How many ponies out there can claim they get to sleep in the loving embrace of a creation of the Alicorn of Life every night?”

“Many, I suspect.”

“No, they all have much smaller products developed by Bodyworks Enterprises. There’s a difference,” he firmly insists. “Not only that, but you’ve also had an almost daily cake delivered by yours truly. I’m starting to think I’ve spoiled you so much you don’t appreciate me. You’ve come to expect all this pamperin!”

“That is ridiculous,” she instantly dismisses.

“And what’s up with this?” he asks, reaching back with his hind hoof to nudge the nearly spotless cake’s cardboard, causing it to make a scooting sound as it moves across the floor. “You must’a enjoyed it, judging from the nearly licked-clean cake board on the floor. Seriously, it would have taken a half second to either incinerate it or Teleport it to the hallway. Why the hay is it sitting on your floor? Not even my sisters do that!”

“I was tired!” she insistently huffs, voice still muffled by the wing blanket she’s hiding under. Not bothering to free herself from her pillowy prison, the ancient mare sternly points out, “Just because I can force myself to remain awake does not mean I enjoy doing so! I am normally in bed within a couple hours of sunset every night. Now, why are you here disturbing my sleep?!”

“Geez, you don’t have to get all huffy with me,” he quietly grouses. More sullenly, he answers, “I’d come over to spend some time with ya before breakfast. Maybe get some ‘before you go’ cuddles with one of my very best friends who I won’t see for a few months. In pony, that is. I’m only hesitating what ‘cause of your… condition and whatnot. It kinda came back.”

“My condition?” she asks, freeing her head to look blearily around the room. Her snout crinkles and she instinctively recoils away from her own hindquarters as if struck. “I thought you -” she begins to shout, cutting herself off when the foal holds his hooves up in surrender.

“I did! I could do it again, too, if you want, but apparently your switch got flipped to ‘On’ and it decided it wanted to stay there.”

A quick series of flashes from the mare’s horn dispel the cloying aroma in the room, cleans her bedding and the pillow, and, Cure can only guess, does whatever Luna’s estrus spell does to suppress the effect.

Rubbing her face with her left fetlock, the princess sucks in a deep lungful and blasts out another huge yawn. “I am sorry you were exposed to that. Again.”

“No problem,” he insists with a shrug. “Now, how bout we go do the whole celestial switcheroo and we can hop back in bed and snuggle -”

Cure cuts off when he feels a familiar swelling of magic in the room. Without even deigning to get out of bed, the princess’s horn glows brilliantly in the predawn gloom, forcing him to cover his eyes until they adapt. Since her suite’s windows face the east, Cure can’t see Luna’s moon sinking below the western horizon, though the shadows cast by castle towers visibly stretch before darkness fully covers the world. The pressure dissipates even though her horn’s glow doesn’t fade completely, and the eastern sky lights up in brilliant shades of golden orange.

Satisfied that her task is complete, the princess flops bonelessly back down to the bed and rolls to her left, pressing her back against the pillow and lifting her right foreleg and wing up in invitation. Cure doesn’t need to be told twice; with a single flap of his wings and a light hop, the colt springs up onto the bed, stepping over her left foreleg to flop against her still sleep-warmed chest. His left wing reaches out, hooking over her withers to pull himself tight as her far larger right wing wraps around his behind and joins her right foreleg to squeeze him even closer.

“Oh yeah,” he happily sighs, nuzzling his chin into the underside of her neck. “Them’s some premium quality snuggles right there.”

Sandwiched between the small foal and his much larger gift, Celestia wiggles back into her mattress until she finds just the right spot, then draws another deep breath.

“You know what you need?” he softly asks.

“Quiet?” she sardonically suggests.

“A real, live snuggle buddy. I bet we could get lotsa volunteers, no problem.”

“Mmm. Yes, I am sure that would not cause any rumors at all.”

“Make it a royal appointment. If it’s an official, paid position -”

“Then the nation is literally paying somepony to sleep with her ruler.”

“... Well, when you say it like that it sounds a little sketchy.”

“Indeed it does.”

“But at the same time, we’re highly communal creatures. I could present a dozen scientific papers all but prov-”

“Cure?”

“-ing… yeah?”

“Shush.”

“... Got it.”

Displaying the barest modicum of wisdom, the colt keeps his mouth shut and tightens his grip with his wing, more than happy to immerse himself in the princess’s warmth.

An hour later

“The Prancing Prince?!” Cure cries in disbelief. Newspaper held so the other two can read the headline, the colt all but shrieks, “That is what they’re calling me?! The Prancing Prince?!”

Smiling brightly in amusement, Celestia sets her alicorn-sized mug of tea on the table and nods, “It would appear so, amongst other things.”

“Other things?”

“Them fillies gigglin off’ta the side were callin ya Prince of Pecs ‘n Prince Hardchest,” Amethyst chimes in. The mare rolls her eyes at his annoyed look, chiding, “Don’t go actin like ya got a problem with either’a ‘em names, colt. It ain’t like I heard ya sayin no when them fillies asked ta feel how muscley ya are.”

Lips pursed, the colt reluctantly concedes the point. It was quite the ego boost having even older teenage fillies rubbing their forelegs, or in some cases, their cheeks all over his flight muscles. While the latter is a little more forward than typically acceptable, it’s not like ponies can really get a good feel for something just through their hooves. Pressing a pastern against something is how a pony would normally get a feel for it, but cheeks have far more sensory nerves in them, allowing a much more comprehensive sense of feeling.

That and it gave them an excuse to have him wrap his wings around them. The pegasi in particular couldn’t get enough of that, which the colt generally had no strong objections to.

“Little Casanova was bandied about quite frequently as well,” Celestia idly comments, floating another icing covered doughnut out of the box. Apparently having donuts after a party is something of a tradition for the ancient mare. She played it off as giving the kitchen staff a break after all the party preparations, but Cure suspects that is just an excuse to have a breakfast that is reasonably similar to cake.

“It’s weird that that reference exists here,” he idly comments, taking another bite of his own treat.

“Oh? Another parallel?” Celestia inquires.

“Mhmm. Not that I know the other version well, but what I do know more or less matches up. Of course, Bitaly isn’t quite the right name, but… eh, whatever,” he ends with an indifferent shrug.

“There ain’t no end to ‘em, princess,” Amethyst solemnly adds. “From cities ta countries, landmarks -”

“The Stifle Tower,” Cure grumbles, rolling his eyes, “Neighagra Falls, the Leaning Tower of Peytral…”

“- ta individual pony names even. Downright creepy if ya ask me.”

“Fascinating.”

“Eh, it gets old after a while,” Cure argues. Reading the next article, he hums in interest, draws a pair of questioning looks. “This one sounds promising. ‘The Prodigy Prince? Attendees Amazed at Alicorn’s Arcane Acumen.’”

“I wonder how much time them newspaper ponies spend tryin ta… what’s the term?”

“Alliterate?” Celestia supplies.

Amethyst thrust a hoof in her direction and nods. “Yeah! That! Seems silly if ya ask me.”

The princess shrugs helpless, explaining, “It is, perhaps, but many traditions are. You cannot deny that it helps draw your attention and more easily sticks in your memory.”

“Fair.”

“Right,” Cure agrees, continuing with the article, “‘According to numerous sources present at last night’s celebration, His Highness, Prince Serpentus, with no assistance from any external sources, impressed attendees with not only his capabilities on the dance floor, but his ability to effortlessly cast and maintain a spell allowing him to more appropriately match his dance partners’ heights. While not considered a terribly complex spell, it is all but unheard of to see a foal as young as His Highness’s estimated age be capable of maintaining it for hours on end. The apparent ease with which he modified the spell’s variables along with his simply astounding casting speed are noteworthy as well.’”

He sets the paper aside and cringes, then reaches up to playfully bonk himself on the noggin. “Oops.”

“I admit, I had not considered that, myself,” Celestia notes. “I sometimes forget that not everypony knows about your crystals.”

Unwilling to correct the princess’s incorrect assumption, the young alicorn keeps his muzzle shut and lets the comment pass.

“While we’re on the topic,” the mare continues, “you should expect to receive some correspondence from the Archmage’s Association via your grandsire.”

“What? Why? I thought they weren’t supposed to be contacting me.”

“I told them that I had met with you - the unnamed biomanipulating foal who lives in that region - and that they are to leave you alone,” she gently corrects. “There is, however, nothing stopping them from offering membership to Prince Serpentus, an entirely separate pony, coincidentally, from somewhere in the same region.”

“So… they all but know I’m the pony they got the alert about last year?”

“Presumably, yes.”

“But they don’t know about my real identity?”

The mare hesitates, then shrugs her wings lightly. “In theory,” she hesitantly answers with a small shake of her head. “However, I am all but certain they suspect that the earth pony foal who ascended to alicornhood is the same earth pony foal who runs a business selling biomanipulation services in a nearby suburb. Or, perhaps,” she teases, “the same colt who has advertised those services in one of the largest papers in the nation.”

The colt’s snout wrinkles in consternation and he begrudgingly nods, acknowledging her point. After a moment’s consideration he shrugs and seemingly dismisses the concern, floating the last caramel glazed doughnut out of a box. “Whatever,” he grouses, chomping down on the sugary confection. “I guess it's not that big of a deal anymore. Besides, stuff like this is exactly why I made my rings. To make it easier to obfuscate my identity. Now I just need a good excuse for Prince Serpentus to encounter Cure Wave where there will be plenty of witnesses. One that isn’t overtly contrived.”

“Hmm,” Celestia loudly hums, tapping her chin with a hoof. “If only there were some reason why Prince Serpentus would be visiting Golden Hills sometime in the coming weeks. Why… whatever reason could we possibly come up with to arrange such an event? The mind truly boggles, does it not?”

Amethyst snorts out a laugh when Cure shoots the elder a glare. “Tia’s got all the jokes today, doesn’t she?” For the briefest instant he spots a smug smile before she hides it behind her mug of tea. “Whatever,” he grouses under his breath. “It’s not like you actually set that up on purpose.”

“Of course not,” she sarcastically quips. “After all, that would require a degree of foreplanning lacking in somepony that cannot even defeat a foal at chess. How could such a simple mare such as myself ever recognize an opportunity like that when it presents itself, hmm?” she asks, giving the colt a wide-eyed, dumbstruck look with her head tilted to the side.

The two alicorns spend a few seconds having a stare-off before the colt finally blows out a sigh. “You’re lucky I’m not stayin another night. It wouldn’t be a big, cushy pillow you’d be findin in yer bed this time, I’ll tell ya what.”

“Oh?” she asks challengingly, learning forward to loom over the far smaller foal. “And just what, pray tell, would I be finding, hmm?”

“That,” he confidently insists, pointing behind the mare.

Celestia scoffs and rolls her eyes. “Really, Cure? As if I would -”

The mare cuts off when her horn’s aura suddenly detects something directly behind her. The odd signature and feel of it causes her to take a second to process exactly what it is.

Teeth. A row of sharp, needle-like teeth, smiling, slightly above and behind her head, seemingly floating on an object that otherwise doesn’t register to her senses. Her eyes flick to his mother who, after open-mouth gaping for a heartbeat, has looked away and begun scooting herself further down the table, removing herself from the line of fire.

“Cure Wave,” she calls in a voice that could freeze a tidal wave solid.

“Yessum?” he innocently chirps.

“In three seconds I am going to look behind myself. If I find anything there that does not belong then I am afraid your arrival at the train station may be delayed by an hour.”

“An hour? Isn’t that how long it takes for us to… ya know?” he asks, pointing a hoof to the sky.

“An astute observation. One.”

“Uhh… a little extreme, dontchya think?”

“Nonsense. You will be fine. Probably. Oh, and, two.”

Her shadow momentarily stretches across the table as the row of teeth disappear from her senses and the familiar tingle of magic brushes against her horn.

The High Princess of Equestria picks up her carafe of tea again and takes, for her size, a disproportionately small, dainty sip. She holds the tea in her mouth, relishing its bold, earthy flavor as it caresses her tongue, then minutely inclines her muzzle, allowing it to slide down her throat. She sets the tea back on the table and slowly turns her neck, casually taking in the scene behind herself and, finding whatever monstrosity has vanished, nods in satisfaction then faces back towards the table.

“I, for one, am relieved to find nothing out of place,” she dryly remarks, cutting through the silence that had permeated the room.

“You’re relieved?” he asks with an indignant snort. “All jokes one minute then Serious Celly the next. Buncha bipolar mares ‘round here, I swear…”

A couple hours later

Cure has come to accept that quite a few annoyances and inconveniences came bundled with his crown. A significant one, of course, is that he will likely never be able to simply go somewhere without a certain level of pomp and show. While it would be nice if he could just Teleport his mother and himself to the train station, that simply isn’t an option. Unsurprising especially given the circumstances. With it being the weekend, there is no open court scheduled today, so Celestia decided to come along to see the pair off.

Feeling a little more casual, Cure opted to go with something different for today’s outfit. Fashionable blue cargo shorts both maintain his modesty and give him an excuse to have pockets, and a white, collared polo shirt with wing slits comes up to his neck. Since he is off duty and it is the weekend, he even chose to forego his royal attire, leaving his crown, shoes, and peytral stored safely in his luggage.

To Celestia’s amusement, that wasn’t the only thing he had stored away. Sitting atop of the pile of luggage was an especially peculiar crate; one containing her bunnified doppelganger.

Bunlestia’s accommodations are fitting for royalty as well. Her pet carrier, if it still even qualifies, is large enough for a dog well over double her size. The alicornized doe seems quite content with its furnishings as well. Laid on her back with only her tail protecting her modesty, the pristine white bunny is snoring loudly, enjoying a late morning nap. A reclining seat of unfamiliar design is her bed, and a dark purple sleeping mask covers her eyes. Perhaps most ridiculous of all is the small stuffed toy she has held tightly to her chest; an even smaller alicornized bunny, this one’s coat in shades of dark blue.

Half laid against his mother’s side, Cure groans under his breath. “Today is going to suuuuuck. I hate traveling by train!” he whines. “Are you sure we can’t just fly back?!”

Both mares instantly respond with a simultaneous, bored, “Yes.”

“AWWW!” he continues to foalishly whine, rolling in place onto his back. “But it’s sooo slow!” he cries, all four legs flailing futily in the air. “And it’s during the day so I can’t even sleep!”

“It ain’t like ya sleep on the train at night anyhow, dummy.”

“That’s beside the point! C’mon, ma! We could be home by like four, five at the latest!”

“Colt, if you think I’m lettin you fly me halfway ‘cross the country then you must have somethin loose rattlin ‘round in that noggin ‘a yers. Took all I had in me ta fly a few minutes every day!”

“And, as you know, I can easily make you sleep the whole way. You’d doze off in Canterlot and wake up at home in a few hours!”

“No, Cure.”

“You’re letting me fly you to Filly in a few weeks. Dunno what the big diff is.”

“A bit over four hundred ‘n fifty kilometers,” is her flat response.

“That, and your guards have earned the honor of escorting their prince, have they not?”

“Oh please, like they don’t know exactly who they’re ‘escorting.’ Familiarity brings contempt and all that.”

“Breeds, Cure,” his mother corrects with a roll of her eyes.

“Got kind of a one track mind, don’t ya?”

The mare’s snout crinkles and she hesitantly nods. “After two weeks away dealin with yer shit? Yeah. I ain’t gonna deny some stress relievin sounds mighty good right ‘bout now.”

“My thoughts exactly,” Celestia flatly comments, agreeing with the mare. “Though a minor correction,” she adds, turning back to Cure, “Sergeant Escot and her team will be providing your escort on the way home. Placing in the top ten of all squads in the nation is a great achievement, even if they did not win the whole event.”

“Fair enough,” he easily agrees.

Amethyst cocks a brow at the elder mare, surprised to hear Her Majesty freely admit she wants to get laid. “Gettin yerself a lil action tonight, highness? Got yerself a date or somethin?”

“I am planning on revealing the truth tonight. I am trying to remain optimistic, but…” she hesitates, blowing out a deep sigh, “I have not always been so fortunate.”

“Huh. Yeah,” the mare hesitantly acknowledges, “I can see how some ponies would be a might bit intimidated. Not ‘cause ‘a you, exactly,” she rushes to apologetically add.

“No, I understand exactly what you mean. It is not as if a relationship with me would be a simple affair. Not everypony is cut out for the complications that being involved with royalty would bring. The attention. The intrigue. The challenge my schedule presents. Last but not least, my inability to give them foals.”

“What about surrogates or other wives havin ‘em?”

The question barely leaves her muzzle before Cure gives her a solid nudge, hissing “Mom!” right into her ear.

Innocent confusion paints the mare’s face as she looks between the alicorns. “What?”

“Really?!”

“It is okay, Cure. The fact of the matter is that both myself and Luna were in herds that produced foals.”

Neck twisted to look over his withers, Cure stares in shock at the admission. “What?! Really?”

“At first. Once it became evident we could not dam our own we came to realize that it would be the only way for us to have families. Bear in mind that we were unaware of our longevity, and it did not dawn on us that we may be truly unaging until nearly a century later. By then it was undeniable that we had not visibly aged at all.

“Foals were thought a necessity to ensure that the nation we were founding would continue beyond our own deaths. Not only that, but we started off as nothing more than a barony; one of many scores scattered across the lands. We had aspirations to unify ponykind into a single nation. Tell me; what is the single most effective way to establish long lasting unity between two groups?”

“Blood. Or marriage,” the colt knowingly answers.

“Precisely. We needed foals that ponies would accept as our own, even if they were not ours biologically. It did not matter to us; they were our foals just the same.” A small cringe mars the princess’s face as she adds, “Mostly. I will not deny the desire to have our own was not present, and our duties took much of our time away from them.”

“So… you have like… great to the fiftieth power grandfoals still running around?”

For only the second time since Cure has known her, Celestia looks genuinely stricken. The corners of her lips turn down and her mane loses some of its luster. The very air of the carriage seems to swell with misery to the point where the foal feels himself hugging his wings to his side reflexively.

Finally, after only a hoofful of seconds, the mare slowly shakes her head. “Not anymore,” she thickly answers. “The ones who remained close were… lost. Long ago.”

Both he and his mother wait with bated breath, preparing themselves to hear what happened. It’s only after a solid ten seconds of silence that they begin to realize the mare has no desire to go into detail.

Seeking to dispel the mood, Cure whips his head back to his mother, playfully growling, “Well I hope you’re happy now, mom! You made Princess Celestia sad! Do you have any idea what they,” he thrusts his hoof at a window, “are going to do to us if they see us pull up with her makin a sad pony face?! I don’t even mean the guards! The citizens will skin us alive! I’m too pretty to be somepony’s blanket!” He pauses a beat and cocks his head to the side in consideration, adding, “I bet I’d be pretty warm though.”

While nopony is exactly doubled over in laughter, the attempt at levity at least provides a distraction as the procession approaches the station.

When the telltale thud from the lowered steps sounds out, Cure looks out the window and blows out a sigh. Sitting up on the bench, he turns to face the princess. “Welp… here we are, boss. One for the road?” he asks, wings and forelegs spread for a hug.

The mare smiles beautifully, slides gracefully off her seat, and wraps her forelegs around the foal. “Is there any chance that I could convince you to behave yourself? At least until the next time we meet? I know that is quite the favor, but…”

“You know what? Sure. I can manage that.”

“Good. I am sure your parents will be thrilled-”

“Tomorrow evening isn’t that far away, after all.”

A pregnant pause hangs in the air, broken when the great alicorn’s wings sag to her side. She looks to the colt’s mother and shrugs helplessly. “At least I tried.”

“Was never gonna happen anyhow.” Sitting up from her seat, Amethyst gives the still taller mare a nod of respect as she holds out her hoof. “Thanks fer havin us, yer highness. Reckon I’ll be seein ya ‘gin come January.”

The alicorn completely ignores the outstretched hoof, and in one swift motion, releases the foal, wraps her forelegs around the mare, and pulls her against her chest, squashing the flailing colt between them. “Then I will look forward to our next meeting, Lady Amethyst,” she says overtop the foal’s muffled protests.

Once he’s finally released from his prison, Cure shoots a glare at the princess as he fusses over his clothes and mussed mane. It’s only a moment later when the carriage door swings open to a massive crowd of fans and onlookers, gathered to see off their prince.

Or, more likely, he silently ponders, to catch a glimpse of their princess.

The train station is much, much busier than his last visit due to the number of ponies coming and going. Several of the trains headed for the west coast are departing any moment while the trains headed for the east coast are leaving in the coming hours. Their procession has only arrived early to give the guards time to establish a security perimeter before any other passengers are allowed to board.

The Baltimare-bound train is actually amongst the last to leave since the other east coast cities, save Fillydelphia, are significantly further away. By dint of being the only major metro on the line and because it is nearly a straight shot directly east, the trip to and from Baltimare is much quicker than the vast majority of metro cities.

Unsurprising to anypony standing guard, the colt doesn’t hesitate to fearlessly trot right up to the crowd. Hundreds of fillies from Canterlot have gathered to say goodbye, and the colt is quick to rush over and offer his farewells in return. Cure spends the next several minutes bumping hooves, trading nuzzles, getting hugs, and even receiving a few kisses on his cheeks. It doesn’t take long for him to spot a familiar trio of fillies, and a few barked commands has the guards jumping to let them through the security line.

While Cure is busy saying farewell to his three newest friends, another creature manages to distract most of the crowd.

To the great alarm and confusion of the surrounding guards, Warrior, clad in full plate with his helm strapped to his waist, emerges from the royal train car and begins making his way towards the princess. “Well as I live and breathe! Celestia Sol, it has been entirely too long!” he jovially calls out, blatantly ignoring the elite royal guards that are preparing to jump in between himself and their charge. A single look from the mare has them standing down as the Argonian approaches, allowing him to walk right up to the mare.

To her utter shock, the bipedal draconic creature doesn’t hesitate at all. First his arms wrap around her neck in a tight hug, then the scythe-like appendages join them, resting gently on either side of her own wings. Finally, his large, leathery wings unfurl and engulf the mare almost all the way back to her flanks in a warm cocoon as he rocks gently from side to side while laughing.

Releasing her from the hug, which nearly sent onlookers into a panic, the brazen Warrior grabs her face with both hands and plants a big, wet, noisy, lip-smacking kiss on each cheek. “It is so good to see you again! So… you’re a princess now, huh?” he asks, looking around at the city. “Not bad at all, your majesty. By the way, love whatever it is you’re doing with the mane and tail,” he compliments with an exaggerated wink. “Though,” he pauses, gently running a clawed hand up the back of her neck through the ethereal mane, “I always thought the pink was magnificent, too. Even if I am partial to purple, myself,” he adds, running a hand overtop his bald head between his horns.

Quite a large number of ponies are looking between the two with a great deal of confusion. The mare blows out a long suffering sigh and shakes her head in amusement. “You really just cannot help yourself, can you?”

“Oh, you know me,” he says, looking entirely unrepentant. “Always a troublemaker. It’s not my fault your guards are all so skittish. You’d think they’ve never seen a huge, sexy, muscular,” he pauses to flex his pecs one after the other, causing his breastplate to shift minutely from side to side, “bipedal creature like myself before. They do know I’m watching over the little guy while he’s traveling, right?”

“I am sure they do now.”

“Great! Hey, I need to go load up his luggage, but after I’m done with this bodyguard gig how about I make my way back over here and we hit the town? Maybe do dinner, catch a show, find a nice quiet bar, and just drink the evening away while catching up. I could even invite my big brother if you’d like! How’s that sound?” he finishes with a hopeful lilt.

The princess takes only a second to ponder the suggestion before slowly shaking her head. “As entertaining as that may be, I am unsure when I could find an evening available. Perhaps next time you visit town you could send word in advance?”

“You know what? That’s a good point. I bet your schedule is just jam packed, what with all those ‘royal duties’ and whatnot, huh?”

“It is,” she is slightly too quick to agree.

The modified Argonian sighs heavily, giving the princess a couple friendly pats on the withers. “Well, don’t forget to take time for yourself. We’re not getting any younger, are we? Or older, either, I suppose.”

“Indeed. You take care as well. Oh, and watch out for the prince's antics. He can be quite a hoofful.”

Two hours later

Balance Book’s morning has been nothing short of utter chaos, something he had known to expect. It’s an inevitability after every Competition; one his office prepares for well in advance. While most of the vendors are reasonable and ready to receive the Royal Assessors, there’s always a few that are… well… a little less than cooperative would be putting it mildly.

Fortunately, with this being a known issue, the Royal Guard has dedicated teams of ponies both on the ground and in the air watching for anypony trying to flee before Her Majesty’s agents make their appearance.

Not only are the nation’s finest on hoof to watch for tax evaders, but are also providing escort for the collectors themselves. Due to the vast majority of dealings being completed with hard currency, it isn’t uncommon for agents to accrue a veritable pile of bits larger than any but the most bold or foolish would prefer to carry about.

Book is particularly relieved to have a squad tagging along as he makes his way to the next stop in his assigned area: the zebra shaman that everypony within a few hundred kilometers seems to be talking about.

As the stallion understands it, at least a few dozen doctors, pharmacology representatives, researchers, and magical analysts have approached the mare to try to learn her secrets, but all have been turned away without anything to show for their efforts. A shame if her treatments really work, but Book can’t fathom them being anything but a scam.

Countless brilliant unicorn minds have tried to come up with ways to guarantee a colt would be born. For Celestia’s sake, his own dam even insisted he only came about thanks to some gut-churning combination of spices and oils she crammed down his sire’s throat for a solid week.

It was one of the more uncomfortable conversations he’d ever endured.

Regardless, if the nation’s greatest minds hadn’t come up with a solution in the last thousand years, what are the odds that some no-name striped-back savage, of all things, could have a working method?

About as likely as I am to sprout wings, the unicorn internally mused.

Not that it matters one way or another to the taxpony. As far as he’s concerned she can scam ponies out of their hard-earned bits night and day and it’s their own fault for being foolish enough to buy into it. As long as the charlatan promptly pays her taxes, whatever else she’s doing isn’t any of his business.

Leading his escort towards the mare’s wagon, the thought no more than crosses Book’s mind when the door towards the front pops open and four pegasi trot out, followed by the statuesque mare herself. A wave of disgust washes over the taxpony upon sighting the stallion of the herd. Despite making absolutely no effort to do so, Book’s eyes unfortunately focus on how the stallion’s engorged testicles swing from side to side like a pendulum with every careful step. Frozen momentarily from the shocking sight, Book can’t help but overhear part of the conversation.

“For the final time, allow me to put your mind at ease. The swelling is only temporary; it will lessen after each release. It may be slightly uncomfortable, I am aware, but ignore the competition rules, I would not dare. Now go on,” she playfully commands, waving towards the sky, “and make a trio of sons. The events are concluded, but your work has just begun.”

It’s only after the herd takes flight that Book realizes the utter disgust that must be painted across his face. He schools his features in time for the mare to turn in his direction. Dipping her head in greeting, she says, “I am afraid Madame Adiah’s shop is now closed, my unicorn friend. I have no time for appointments and my inventories have met their end.”

“Ah, no. I am not here to make a purchase,” Book declines. Motioning behind himself to the guard-pulled cart, he explains, “I am here on behalf of the Royal Treasury here in Forest Heights. Balance Book, Income Tax Assessor III, at your service, Ms. Adiah. I will need to see your books so that we can ensure all accounts are settled properly before your departure.”

For what could have only been a few moments, Book could have sworn the whole world went silent. The normal singing of birds, the creaking of axles on passing carriages, even the very wind itself - they all seemed to halt at once as if the planet itself drew breath for a shout that never came.

And then time resumes, seemingly never having actually stopped at all.

Blinking in confusion, Book takes a quick look over his withers and sees that he wasn’t the only one who felt something. While the dirt pony pulling the cart and bird brain perched on top of it seem unaffected, the guards at the four corners are all looking around, trying and failing to find the source of the eerie feeling.

A look at the shaman herself makes him suspect she felt something as well. In fact, even more than their surroundings, the mare seems momentarily frozen in place.

Finally, she breaks free from the effect with a shallow nod. “Certainly,” she replies somewhat frostily. Beckoning him to follow, she climbs the stairs as she says, “My ledger has been prepared for your inspection, though patient names are absent for discretion. While I understand the crown is due its fair share, exactly who purchased what is strictly a private affair.”

“Agreed,” Book confirms with a nod as he follows the mare into her home. “So long as there are no inconsistencies, I would presume Her Majesty is unconcerned with specific names. I would advise you to keep such records for at least a year in case something were to be discovered later, but…” he trails off, looking at the foreign furnishings meaningfully.

“Ah, yes,” she nods in understanding. “Madame Adiah travels far and wide, this is certainly true. Even if word were to quickly reach her side, it may take some time before she reaches you.”

“Quite so,” he agrees. The mare approaches the cubby against the wall that serves as her bed. Sitting on her haunches, she places both forehooves on the ledge and lifts the mattress up, revealing a hidden nook underneath it. Book quickly averts his gaze when the mare all but dives head first into the storage space, inadvertently presenting a very pony-like marehood beneath her striped tail. While the part itself is unremarkable, the many piercings along its exterior are quite… different.

With few effortful grunts and what he can only assume to be foreign curses, the mare finally retrieves the item in question. She slams the mattress back into place and drops the book on top of it, then reaches across her chest with her right hoof, pulling her staff off her withers with a twirl.

Book briefly wonders why she didn’t use the thing to get the book rather than digging under her bed like a foal. Also, how well maintained are its records if she stores it in such an inaccessible location?

A wave of her staff over the ledger has it flip open, and page after page follows suit. He watches in mild interest as the pages finally stop on a blank about three quarters of the way through. The familiar tickle of magic brushes his horn when a black sphere of power forms at the staff’s end. With the ball held over the blank page, tendrils of dark ink splay out and begin filling in line after line of figures.

“A moment of patience from you I would kindly request. It has been a rush all morning with my last minute guests,” she explains in her deep, yet still feminine voice.

Book no more than opens his muzzle to point out that any further delays in providing her documentation may result in a fine when the magic suddenly dissipates. Nodding in satisfaction, she steps away from the record and waves in invitation for him to step closer and review it.

Dreading what kind of mess he may find, the stallion takes a deep breath and centers himself before stepping forward. His duty is a sacred one; a crucial one that must be executed diligently, no matter how frustrating it may be at times. Releasing the breath slowly through his snout, he steps forward and looks down.

“Oh, thank Celestia!” he praises aloud in relief, amazed at how neat and clean and well laid out everything is. Every row is written evenly across the page with solid lines dividing entries and dotted ones dividing one column from another. The columns are even labeled in bold at the top of each page! Appointment Num., Date, Time, Patient Num., Goods, Services, Payment, COGS, Subtotal, Est. Tax, and Profit - with all calculations completed in advance.

All columns are individually totalled at the bottom of each page, and a blank page along with a daily total separates each day of the event.

Some of the herbs listed are wholly unfamiliar to the stallion. Peacebloom? Silverleaf? They don’t ring a bell, which means they must not be on the banned imports list. Either way, monitoring alchemical ingredients is not part of his remit.

When questioned about receipts the mare’s smile wavers briefly. He has to levitate the ledger out of way while she dives back into the hidden cubby again to retrieve an accordion file full of the small slips. Thankfully she didn’t shove her marebits into his face for a second time.

All of them are from places like Saddle Arabia, Panthera, Maretania, and Moodrid, and many are in languages he cannot hope to read. Some are hoof or horn written, but at least a couple seem to have been typed instead. As best he can tell, and most importantly, everything seems to add up correctly.

A great swell of emotions threaten to explode from the stallion as he looks over the numbers, finding not a single decimal out of place. While a week of transactions is not an insurmountable volume of data to parse anyhow, the time required is vastly reduced thanks to the organized, sequential entries. Entries that align nearly with the estimates produced based on observed traffic at her stall.

“My dear Lady Adiah,” Book reverently calls, turning to look at the magnificent mare responsible. “I must say that your recordkeeping is amongst the very finest I have ever seen. I was not aware that you ponies are so organized! You have made my task far easier than I had anticipated, and for that I am grateful. Of course, that brings us to the matter at hoof.”

“Yes, the pivotal role of your esteemed institution,” she understandingly begins, “but first I would like to inquire about an alternative contribution.”

Taken momentarily aback at the suggestion, Book is unsure how to respond. It isn’t unheard of for ponies to attempt to bribe professionals in his position. Taking into account the, frankly, ludicrous amount of income even after her tallied expenses, Madame Adiah could certainly afford to sway many an assessor to look the other way and allow falsification of her records.

Aware that the mare must have some degree of power and also aware that he is now inside her home, slowly, as if testing unsure waters, he opens his muzzle to gently decline her offer. “While I take no offense at the suggestion, I am afraid that ponies in my position are closely monitored to ensure that we do not-”

“No, you misunderstand,” she calmly counters, dismissing his errant assumption with a flick of her hoof. “I see that my poor phrasing is at fault, but bribing you is not my desired result. The new prince spoke passionately on the merits of education. Perhaps I can support this and also reduce my rate of taxation?”

It only takes a moment’s consideration before he slowly shakes his head no. “No. While it is possible to use charitable contributions to offset taxes, it is not done at a one-to-one ratio. Far from it, in fact. Besides, His Highness does not have any established charitable fund to which contributions can be made at this time.”

“So… it cannot be done?” she inquires, ears sagging in disappointment.

“No. I am afraid not. Besides, if His Highness were to eventually direct crown funds towards some such cause, then that would be paid with funds collected via taxation, presumably. If he were to establish, for example, some sort of private scholarship or endowment fund to help ponies with higher education, then, assuming it is set up properly, you could make tax offsetting contributions at that time, but for now…” he trails off, offering a defeated shrug.

“Unfortunate.” The mare heaves a deep sigh and shakes her head, forcing herself to move on. “Very well. Then let us proceed with all due haste to the transaction. I have prepared the payment, I hope, to your satisfaction.”

While twirling the staff around her right fetlock, power gathers at the end just as before. Instead of using her accumulated magic for scribing, the mare taps the empowered globe against the opposite wall of the wagon below the desk that seems to serve as her alchemical station.

A pair of previously invisible seams appear along the wall, each one several hooves across. The mare draws her staff away, pulling the drawers open behind it. Once completely removed to the center of the room does it become evident that they are not drawers at all, but free-standing carts on small, metal wheels with a false face to blend into the walls. Each cart has three tiers of shelving, and each shelf is packed with removable trays full of bits stacked and wrapped in paper sleeves holding fifty coins apiece.

Closer inspection reveals that one and a half of the carts are smaller denominations; mostly singles with several trays full of rolls of fives and tens. The bottom shelf of the second cart, however, is where the real fortune lies. Dozens upon dozens of rolls of twenties, a hoofful of hundreds, and even three rolls of thousand bit coins sit in individual trays by themselves. Off to the side are a few trays of loose bits that have not yet been wrapped, some foreign currencies, and a number of unused sleeves.

Balance Book has seen his fair share of money throughout his life, but he’s confident he could count on his hooves how many times he has seen such a fortune from a single individual all in one place, especially once acquired over only a week. He had noticed the private security on duty outside, but with so many bits outside of a bank he can’t help but think that one squad is wholly inadequate for the situation.

Then again, the mare herself is a completely unknown threat, and there is no lack of chatter amongst layponies regarding what an absolute terror a powerful shaman can be. With thousands of extra guards within range of a cry for help, perhaps the likelihood of an attack is lower than he may surmise. Hopefully, he thinks, her next stop is the bank.

Pushing such musings aside for a later time, Book finds himself once again relieved at the sight of such diligently organized currency. “Fantastic!” he exclaims aloud, all but beaming at the taller mare. “The secure carriage has a weighing scale that will make the process much quicker. Do you prefer to pay with smaller denominations or…” he trails off when the mare shakes her head no.

“Use the thousand coins, I would suggest. It will save us both time, which would be best.” Especially since the train is departing soon.

“Very well, then. With your permission, I can proceed to weigh out the taxes due from your…” he pauses, staring at the carts to come up with the right word, “... safe, I suppose.”

“By all means, be my guest. Feel free to conduct your test.”

Book gives a firm nod, levitating the mare’s obligation, her ledger, and a variety of the empty sleeves. The mare follows, pausing at the door to watch as he makes his way to the secure carriage.

“The scale, corporal,” the stallion orders.

The guardsmare nods, then levitates a key out of her armor. Unlocking the secure carriage’s door, she sticks her head in and ignites her horn. The sounds of objects being scooted around can be heard for a moment until she withdraws, a table, a scale, a familiar stone, and a latched mahogany box following her out. The table’s legs unfold and it’s set on the ground, then the box, stone, and scale are deposited on it.

The unicorn waits to serve as witness while Book opens the box. Inside are a set of certified weights that he lifts with reverent care. One hundred and fifty single bit coins is exactly one kilogram, and upon adding three empty sleeves to the tray with the weight both sides balance out perfectly.

The larger denominations all check out as well and, after a series of passes overtop of the counterfeit detection stone, Balance Book has everything validated. The sound of hoofsteps towards the front of the carriage draws the stallion’s attention to an approaching member of the shaman’s private security. The stallion quietly converses with one of the other guards for a moment, too far away to be overheard. “Is there a problem, private?” he quietly calls to the guard.

She glances back for a moment, holding her hoof up for him to wait, then finishes her conversation before trotting closer to the taxpony.

“Not a problem, exactly,” she leans forward to whisper. “Just some… oddness.” A raised brow prompts her to explain, “Well, the zebra works all day.”

“Admirable.”

“No, you don’t understand,” the private insists. “He said she works all day. Non-stop. No breaks for food, drink, to… use the facilities. She barely even stops to sleep. She’s apparently been seeing clients one after another from sun up until well into the night every day since she hired her security.” She casts a suspicious look over to the shaman before turning back. “It’s weird,” she insists with a shrug, “that’s all. You felt that… whatever it was when we first strolled up. Something about her is sending static down my mane.”

All three ponies pause to look back over at the shaman again, finding her shooting a furious glare at the security pony. Book can only assume that, despite seemingly being too far away to hear their conversation, she must have guessed her security pony said something about her that she wouldn’t approve of. He can sympathize with the mare; while private security agencies are required to report criminal activity, spreading what amounts to gossip about an employer is hardly the same.

“While fascinating,” Book dryly begins, turning back to the task at hoof, “your suspicions, private, are currently irrelevant. Unless you suspect her to be falsifying her paperwork,” he trails questioningly. When the private shakes her head no he nods in acceptance. “Well then, please return to your post while I finish the mare’s documentation.”

Focusing back on his assigned duty, Book finishes filling out the zebra’s return. The corporal initials that she witnessed the weighing, then Book duplicates the form with a spell. He steps back holding her ledger and receipt while the corporal packs everything away. Both ponies make one last note in the carriage’s logbook, then the stallion takes the receipt to the zebra.

“And there you have it, Ms. Adiah,” he declares, passing over the receipt. “Though our official business is concluded, my conscience requires that I strongly advise that you head directly to the Equestrian Royal Bank branch before you leave town. It is ill advised to carry such a significant amount of money when traveling, and funds deposited in Her Majesty’s bank can be freely and easily accessed anywhere across the nation.”

The mare slowly nods as if agreeing. “While I cannot deny that the safety would be welcome, I believe you overlooked a rather significant problem. I must travel across the world to replenish my supply of ingredients. Equestrian banks cannot be found overseas, which, for me, would greatly limit their convenience.”

“Ah. Yes, of course,” he agrees, cringing at the obvious oversight on his own part.

The shaman smiles kindly, adding, “It is very sweet of you to express concern for my well-being, but in a fight I will not be the one fleeing. I fear no pony, zebra, minotaur, griffon, or even dragon. If they approach with ill intent, they only find agony within this wagon.”

Balance Book still has doubts that the mare’s potions can really accomplished what they are advertised to do, but standing in front of her, seeing her muscles contract under her coat, finding the promise of pain shining through her eyes, witnessing the ominous black miasma writhing, barely contained on her staff…

He can’t help but believe that at least this claim is one hundred percent legitimate.

That evening

The train ride back to Baltimare was not as boring as he had expected. Instead of doing absolutely nothing at all, Cure effectively commandeered one of the lounges closer to the center of the train. While not entertaining, exactly, he figured it would be a better use of his time to offer checkups and immunizations to creatures that are traveling, so he asked the ticketpony to spread word that Serpentus was seeing patients while she made her way throughout the train's cars.

He felt a little guilty about forcing the other Baltimare squad to actually work, but ultimately that’s exactly what they are there for. It may be boring for them to stand around and watch the foal lay hooves on one creature after another, but they would be standing around doing basically nothing even if he had sat in his car napping the day away instead.

He had considered creating a pegasus puppet and following the train from above, but there was a suspicious number of pegasi squads running patrols flying overhead at almost every leg of the trip. He’s all but certain Celestia had a hoof in it; he suspects she also stymied his chances of baiting somezebras into a trap.

Adiah did not simply vanish into thin air, after all. Upon the completion of her financial affairs, she packed up her wagon, dismissed her hired security (after giving them a few very stern words), and conspicuously made her way to one of the land routes headed northeast towards Detrot. She had noticed a few zebras watching as she left town, and was nearly itching for the expected ensuing fight. All of her hopes were dashed on the rocks when squad after squad of pegasi coincidentally passed by overhead, seemingly keeping an eye on the mare.

When she finally began reaching the edge of the rings’ ranges, she took a detour more directly east on a far less worn path towards Foaledo. Unfortunately, by that point the zebras had given up. Rather than pursue or confront her, they noted the unusual number of patrols, shared a conversation she could not catch, and turned to head back to town. With a slight feeling of guilt he couldn’t explain, Cure marched the mare into deeper foliage, hid her from sight, and returned her body and wagon back from whence it came.

All things considered, he considers that it is probably for the better that the confrontation did not occur. Between his imminent departure, the numerous patrols, and his hesitancy to do anything too bloodthirsty, Cure isn’t sure what would have happened had they approached. Too many variables, too many unknowns, and not enough time; all are factors that would have made the entire ordeal far more complicated than he would like.

Regardless, the ride back to Baltimare went faster than expected and, perhaps thanks to the increased security, was without incident until just beyond Hollow Shades. During the midair tradeoff of duties, Cure noticed a single pegasus break off to land on the train. Curious, but not terribly concerned, the colt continued socializing and occasionally healing until Sgt. Song made her way into his impromptu clinic to inform him about a slight change of plans.

“A… reception?” he echoes, voice full of confusion.

“That is the gist of it, sir. Sgt. Bulwark suggested that his highness may wish to retire to his private car to prepare. We’re expecting a band, a small crowd, and several important ponies such as Captain Stance, Countess Evergreen, Baroness Wheatfield, and most of the city leadership. The sarge has everypony putting on their formals right now.” Her eyes track to the corporal in charge of his current contingent and she adds, “Sgt. Escot will send relief so you have time to polish up. They’ll be here any minute.”

The temptation to whine is powerful, but Cure knows he can’t act like that in front of other ponies. Nodding in begrudging acceptance, he and his mother return to the royal car to get ready.

“So… what’s the plan?” Amethyst asks as the door shuts behind them.

“The same as it was before,” he insists, igniting his horn. Amethyst blinks in surprise as the colt begins his work. The Argonian’s armor is stripped off in a flash of light, Teleported inside of a case hidden with his luggage. Her eyes drift over the creature’s naked form, silently admiring the impressive musculature. As attractive as the ripped abdominals seem, however, she can’t help but snort at the completely featureless crotch.

“Okay,” he begins in an admonishing tone, “first off, you just basically ogled your son, you weirdo, and second, explain to me why I would give him a dick.”

“I dunno,” she unrepentantly shrugs. “Just seems strange, ‘s all. And don’t blame me fer takin a look. Yer the one takin off yer clothes in front of yer ma, ya weirdo,” she retorts.

“Ugh… speaking of which,” he groans, activating his talent. The first change that Cure makes is relatively simple. His casual clothing begins altering itself, changing from the outfit he departed Canterlot wearing into a black business suit with a white, button-up shirt and a bright, golden vest.

Next, the Argonian leans forward, leaning over with his hands flat on the ground as he begins to shift and shrink, particularly its hind legs. Amethyst watches as the body begins to change, though she completely fails to suppress her look of intrigued disgust.

The already purple skin lightens a few shades as the red seems to bleed out of it, leaving a familiar color behind. Its hind legs shrink at an accelerated rate while its neck stretches and elongates. Next, its barrel writhes and changes as internal organs and the skeleton are all rearranged for a quadrupedal configuration, and previously absent body parts fall into place. Fur sprouts out all over its body, and the mane, tail, and ears soon follow. The muzzle lengthens as hands and curl into balls and begin sprouting hooves while its feet lift so it stands on its toes, which also begin to merge together and change into hooves.

The mare shudders involuntarily when the transition finally finishes.

"Ready for me to fix your colors, ma?" he asks, offering his hoof to his mother.

Hesitating only a few seconds, the mare finally nods. "Next time, do me a'fore I watch somethin like that."

"Yeah, that's a fair request, I suppose," he agrees with a wince.

Done with her color restoration, Cure’s lights his horn and his royal accessories flash into existence, Teleported from his luggage directly onto his real body's head and neck. Lifting one hoof at a time, the golden shoes do the same.

“Showoff.”

“Guilty,” he easily accepts. “Really, though, it’s a lot less complicated than Teleporting a pony. Speaking of which, I will be Teleporting a ring into my safe room, then, once I reconnect to my plant,” he explains then pauses.

To the mare’s brief shock, the puppet picks up the sentence. "I,” he emphasizes, “will Teleport myself in. Once I know it’s safe, I’ll bring you there, too.”

Brows furrowed in consternation, the mare looks between the two colts and points out, “Ya just said Teleportin a pony is complicated!”

“It's a total cakewalk if you can see both the origin and the destination,” he is quick to clarify. “That’s why the ring is going first. Once I reconnect to the house I’ll be able to Teleport with otherwise impossible precision. I could easily Teleport a thread through a sewing needle, so don’t worry. Hell, I could teleport the thread, tied in a tight knot, perfectly around the needle’s eye. Remember when me and mom were flying home from Filly and I teleported straight into the living room?”

“Yeah.”

“I was going way, way faster than this train at the time.”

The mare hesitates for a moment before nodding in acceptance. “Alright. What’ll ya say when somepony asks where yer ma went when ya get to Baltimare?”

“The truth,” he offers. “I’ll tell them that I had you secreted away back to our home. I probably could to the same and just skip the whole thing, but… I dunno. It feels kinda tacky to snub the ponies that will no doubt want to see me. No offense, ma, but I doubt there’ll be a whole lot of ponies waiting to talk to my mom.”

“Eh, I’m fine with that,” she agrees with a shrug. “I’d much rather go home anyhow.”

“Same,” he agrees with his real body.

“So, once we get home,” the clone begins, “I’ll meet with my body double, then see if the girls can come over for a sleepover. I don’t think the lieutenant will be upset if we debrief in the morning instead of right away.”

“Debrief?”

“Yeah, you know… catch me up on any interactions she had as me so I don’t look like I have friggin dementia or something if I run into anypony.”

“Ah.”

“It’ll probably take a few hours, and it’s a little late to get started on something like that.”

“True enough.”

“Just make sure you all are using the privacy screens tonight, got it?”

Scowling at the reminder, she growls, “Ya think?”

“Don’t give me that,” he snarks back. “Y’all forget sometimes, and I don’t want Dawn witnessing you ‘makin up for lost time’ while we’re just down the hall.”

Her indignant expression gives way and she begrudgingly nods in acceptance.

Out of the blue, the colt snorts out a laugh, prompting the mare to raise a brow in question.

“I just had a thought.”

“Oh? September thirteenth. I’ll mark tha calendar.”

“Har har. No, I mean, there’ll probably be some kind of reception at Golden Hills, too, right?”

“Probably?”

“Well, Serpentus will be hanging out in Baltimare, right?”

“I… guess?”

“So, it would seem odd if Cure Wave, who helped the guards train for the competition, didn’t also greet them upon their triumphant return, wouldn’t it?”

“They’ll just think it’s that mare, instead,” she argues.

“Unless she’s there to greet them, too.”

“Then they’ll think ya left when they did.”

“But he’ll still be there. In public. Getting pictures taken. I doubt they’ll keep my escorts there long, anyhow. They’ll know they’re tired after the whole competition and the train travel and whatnot, so I doubt it’ll be much more than a ‘Welcome Home’ thing, then they’ll send them on their way. Meanwhile, Serpentus can spend a little time hobnobbing with everypony and getting pictures taken.”

“Okay, but I gotta ask… Why?”

“Why? Why what?”

“Why mess with the guards?”

Scoffing, the colt points out, “That’s a silly question, ma. The real question is ‘Why Not?’”

Author's Note

Fun fact - Twilight calls Spike "Casanova" in the very first episode of the show.

So... I reserve the right to amend the weight of bits. It sounds right-ish, but I may have brain farted the math some. I imagine single bit coins being approximately the size of an American dime, with each coin being larger and thicker to account for their value. It can't be a linear relationship, though, since if a 1 bit coin weighs 1/150th of a kg then a 1000 bit coin would - if scaled in weight to match - weigh six and two thirds kg, or a little under fifteen pounds.

... I really, really wish I had 15 pounds of gold. As long as I had the paperwork that goes with it, I suppose. Sans paperwork, I'm not so sure I would want to be found with 15 pounds of gold. It probably would not end well for me.

I don't really have a whole lot more to add to the chapter. I'm glad we're finally through the competition arc, of course. It was... about 5 months longer than I expected it to be. That will not be happening again, I hope.

As always, thanks for reading, rating, commenting, etc. Enjoy!

Chapter 122: Monday, Monday

Monday, September 14th, 909 AB (the next day)
Around 6:00 in the morning

Rousing himself from torpor for what feels like the fiftieth time, Cure finally gives in and accepts that his last chance to get anything close to some actual rest is well and truly gone. The absolute emotional exhaustion he had experienced the night before still clings to his mind, adding an unwelcome and almost overwhelming weight to his limbs as he stretches them in every direction.

“I never thought my own foal would do something so… HORRIBLE to somepony!” her hurt, disappointed cry echoes in his mind.

The prospect of rest abandoned, he pushes himself up from his prone position and uses his wings to roll the sisters closer under his barrel. Though the motion briefly causes them to stir, they quickly latch onto each other and still, settling back into the deep slumber that eluded him throughout the night.

Careful steps see him to the edge of the bed. Wings spread, he glides to his door, soundlessly sneaking out of his and his sisters’ shared room. Silently navigating the pitch black hallway, he makes his way to the bathroom, not even bothering to turn on the light. Standing outside of the stone stall, he puts his right hoof against the wall and leans in, grasping the longer earth pony friendly lever and turning it on.

With the bathroom right above the house’s water heater, it only takes a few seconds for everything to get nice and hot. A quarter turn of the cold lever has the temperature just right, and he doesn’t hesitate to climb in, pulling the curtain shut behind himself. He cranes his head back and stretches his wings up and out, creating a river of near scalding water that runs down his wings and neck, over his back, and follows his tail to the textured floor.

What starts as a deep sigh morphs into a yawn as he fights the temptation to lean against the wall and just… stand there, soaking in the warmth. The dreams, verging on nightmares, that plagued him over the course of the night gradually fade into the back of his mind, the fears diluted until more easily ignored as wakefulness finally takes hold. One more chest expanding yawn snakes its way from his maw, finally reviving the analytical part of his mind.

He knows he is overreacting. The visions of his family turning him away are nothing but his doubts painted on a canvas of fear, none of which would ever come to be. The logic is there, but the raw, emotional hurt doesn’t care.

“That is not the sweet, loving Cure I know! We taught him better than that!”

“Quit being such a little emo pussy,” he growls to himself. “She didn’t mean it that way and you know it.” Determined to push past his gloom, the colt rears up, braces his left hoof against the wall, and spends a moment letting the water soak into the fur of his chest and belly. He reaches forward, rotating the flow control lever to the right, diverting the water from the higher showerhead to the hoof-grippable wand.

Wand in hoof, the young alicorn starts from the top and works his way down, spraying under his chin, beneath both of his wings, in all of the nooks and crannies between his feathers, down his underside in his legpits and crotch, underneath his tail and between his cheeks, and finally on the frogs of each hoof. If he spends a little more time on one spot or another, nopony else is present to admonish him.

A corner shelf behind him and to his left has the assortment of soaps, shampoos, and conditioners that he normally uses. His parents have their own bathtub and shower attached to the master suite, which is where they, along with all of his siblings, typically do their bathing. Sometimes Amethyst or his dam will shower Cherry and Lotus in his bathroom, but for the most part this one is his alone.

Unlike the others, Cure prefers to use the basic, unscented soaps. They get rid of the very little sweat and dirt he’s accumulated while not interfering with whatever bouquet he decides to go with on a given day.

Affixing the wand back to the wall, he turns the water off to soap himself up. The shelf isn’t too high for him to reach, but he does have to rear up to get to it. With plastic still a distant pipe dream, most liquids like shampoos come in glass bottles with a screw-on lid.

His memories insist that glass in a stone shower stall is a terrible idea, but telekinetic grips don’t slip off of smooth surfaces as easily as fingers would. Floors are only textured for the benefit of unicorns, who lack the stronger gripping force that earth ponies and pegasi possess. Even when accidents do happen, hooves and a thicker, tougher hide provide more than enough protection from sharp edges.

Thankfully, the ‘righty-tighty, lefty-loosey’ standard still applies in ponyland, so a twist to the left has him scooping a dollop out with the little spoon-like attachment on the underside of the lid. He smears one directly into his mane right between his ears, another that he smooshes onto his dock just above his tail, then streaks one under each wing through his secondaries before resealing the jar and putting it back on the shelf.

He rears up, bracing himself against the wall with his forehead, the contrasting coolness of the stone barely felt through his fur. Leaning against the wall, he rubs the shampoo into his mane, pushing off with his left hoof to get the top, then sits on his rear, twisting to one side then the other to do the same with his tail.

Wings are one area he doesn’t hesitate to cheat in. While pegasus wings are not exactly delicate, the feathers themselves do require a bit of care when maintaining. Cure’s much tougher plumage means he can grab any sponge, washrag, or brush and more or less go to town without fear of damaging the feathers or causing himself a lick of pain. He doesn’t go quite hog wild scrubbing them clean, not only because it’s unnecessary with how clean his body naturally is, but also because the act of slowly, methodically wiping his wings down is almost as relaxing as having somepony else lend a hoof.

Hair and feathers taken care of, he pops open another jar and grabs his sponge off the shelf, loading it up with a big fat glob of soap. A quick spritzing from the showerhead and a couple kneading squeezes sees a thick lather start to ooze from its pores.

Legs spread slightly, he stands on all fours and grips the sponge in his touch-telekinesis, starting at the tip of his snout and swirling it around himself in a spiraling motion, grinding the suds into his coat. The sponge scrubs with an unseen grip, washing his face, ears, the underside and side of his neck, shoulders, withers, chest, down one foreleg then his other, across his belly, then up and down his sides and back, all around and across his crotch (once again, perhaps, spending more time on a few spots than is strictly necessary), then on the inside and outside of his hind legs before finally moving across his flanks, rump, and sudsing up his butt. His hooves and frogs are last, which he lifts and scrubs one at a time.

The entire process only takes a few minutes and, unlike from his memories, doesn’t require any awkward contortions, twisting, or bending to get every nook and cranny. Rinsing off takes almost twice as much time as soaping up, and a few minutes later he’s finally done.

Turning so he’s sideways in the stall, he spreads his wings to full extension and gives his whole body a mighty shake. A quarter turn later, he gives another good shake to throw the excess water out his tail, after which he pulls the curtain to the side and reaches for a set of towels. The one for his mane, head, and underside is tossed over his neck while the other for his tail and the rest of his barrel is draped across his back.

Using his right hoof, Cure gets as much as he can quickly squeeze out of his mane, then gives his face, neck, and undercarriage a good enough scrubbing that he won’t drip too much. He tosses the towel on the floor outside of the stall, contorting his body to the side to reach his tail. Just like his mane, he squeezes enough water out not to make a mess before stepping out of the stall and onto his discarded towel.

Drying off doesn’t take too long thanks to his shorter coat. With no fur going funky directions, he only has to spend a few minutes getting his mane combed back. A thin layer of his self-made styling wax spikes his mane up and back at the front while the rest is combed down his neck between his ears. His tail is even easier since he, as colts typically do, wears his tail straight. A few run-throughs with the brush to work out the kinks is all that is needed there.

Finally sliding his horn into place, Cure conjures a globe of Light and looks in the mirror. An application of his talent shifts his colors from the preferred blue and green into the brown and gold of his Serpentus disguise. His mane lengthens and straightens, falling lazily down his neck while his face shifts slightly here and there, seemingly altering its structure and significantly changing his appearance.

The thin layer of fat he keeps on his body melts away, leaving the chiseled muscles of His Highness on display. His ears lengthen by a centimeter and the hair on them thickens slightly, stopping somewhere between a normal pony and a bat. His eyes lose the familiar milk chocolate, shifting to a bright, shimmering gold. He smiles at his reflection, altered dentition visibly on display.

He doesn’t manage to hold the facade for more than a few seconds before it cracks, leaving him staring blankly at the foal in the mirror.

He isn’t sure how long he stands there. More than a few minutes, at least. The sound of running water starting up eventually rouses him from his stupor. He figures it’s probably Lemon starting her morning routine, but intentionally avoids focusing his senses in that direction.

Forcing himself back into action, Cure hangs both towels from hooks on the wall. A couple castings of Cleaning and Warming have the towels well on their way to drying, and a few more blasts around the shower ensure the area is once again cleaner than the average operating room. Disguise still in place, the colt has one of his puppets prepared as he makes his way down the stairs. The wings are completely removed, though a set of concealed horns lining the side of its neck are prepared in case the need were to arise.

The Cure clone Teleports into the kitchen as he finishes putting on a pot of coffee. Serpentus stares vacantly at the slow drip while Cure gets a pot out for breakfast. He has time enough to make almost anything, but… the energy to do anything elaborate is simply not there. Oats, barley, and a mixture of nuts is good enough. While the oat mix boils on the stove he has his plant conjure up a platter of fruit. Blueberries, raspberries, blackberries, bananas, and apples should give everypony plenty of options to add to their bowl.

Serpentus prepares his coffee and sits at the table, silently sipping at his drink. Cure sits on the counter by the stove, occasionally giving the food a small stir. It’s quiet save for the distant sound of running water and the burbling sizzle coming from the stove. He enjoys the few minutes of peace by just… not thinking about anything as much as he can manage.

He isn’t feeling particularly hungry, but he still forces himself to eat. It’s okay. Nothing spectacular. It’s not doughnuts or pancakes or some castle-prepared meal, but none of that sounds all that great right now anyhow. Stove turned off, he moves the food to a cool burner and covers it to keep in the moisture. A slightly overcharged Warming should keep it hot for his mom without burning it to the bottom or sides of the pot.

Cleaning up after himself only takes a few seconds. A check of his watch shows the time. There’s still almost an hour before sunrise. He could hang out for a bit, but the longer he stays the more likely he’ll have to interact with somepony. He’s not quite ready for that yet. Maybe when he’s more awake. He might as well get moving. Today is going to be pretty busy, after all.

The pair leave the kitchen and walk towards the door only to pause. From his tail all the way up to his collar, Serpentus’ coat fuses together in a layer of nearly skintight silk as another layer of fur regrows underneath. A series of flashes Teleport his shoes and peytral into place. His crown flashes into existence on an outstretched hoof. He spends a few minutes just staring, then sighs and sets it atop his head. Invisibility shrouds the colt as the puppet strolls out the front door, holding it open for the original to slip out as well.

The newspaper is sitting on the doorstep. There’s probably something in there about him, but he can’t seem to muster the energy to care. It’ll keep until later.

Cure sedately walks towards town, Serpentus invisibly takes to the sky.

He isn’t sure what time the captain gets to the base. Probably way too damn early for anypony sane. She has to be there by now.

He wonders if those same guards are on duty again. Corporal Bitterbark and Private Posy. Or was it Posey? Posie? It’s probably the first one. That’s how it’s spelled most of the time. Either way, it wouldn’t hurt to go get the goofy mare a treat if she’s working. He remembers she said they have good bearclaws, but there was something else she said was her favorite. He knows he had one for her, but can’t recall what it was. Hopefully he’ll remember once he sees what they have available.

Maybe the girls would also like a surprise before their first day of school. Doughnuts two days in a row. How sinfully decadent. He’d get something for the whole school, but he doesn’t feel like explaining how he bought breakfast from a bakery in Baltimare and got them to school before class starts.

He supposes he could get everypony something from the Dough family’s place here in town. He certainly has plenty of time. He’ll have to wait until he can Send a message to the pegasi before Teleporting them theirs. Cloud houses move too much to reliably hit a target without eyes-on. He supposes he could just fly a bird up to act as a spotter. Yeah, that’ll probably be the easiest way to get them.

Maybe he’ll make a game out of teleporting pastries into the air someday. Put them high up in the sky without any warning and see if any pegasi manage to catch them before they hit the ground.

That… would probably get him a talking-to by somepony. Probably Bulwark. Actually, probably Song because she’s pretty and they know he’s more likely to listen to her because he’s a male. Or maybe Rico. She’s pretty too, but has the added bonus of being single. He supposes the most likely result would be somepony telling his dam and letting her sort it out. He could see her telling the guard to discipline him that way. To be fair, she knows it will work as well or better than anything else would.

Cure speeds up to a steady trot, diverting from Lemon’s store towards the Dough bakery. Serpentus adjusts his heading to slightly south of the base. The bakery is close enough that it won’t take him but a few extra minutes. That’s not a problem. It’s not like he’s in a hurry at all.

The thought that he’s going to two bakeries in two different cities at the same time amuses him, but not enough for him to smile. It’s only a little funny. Cyndi would probably get a chuckle out of it. At least, she would after busting his balls. She would totally call him a fatass if she could see his spending on baked goods alone over the last month. Of course, a lot of that went was spent on her, so… oh well.

He’ll probably never get a big, fancy “I’m Sorry” cake for her again. She may not even be in the same room as him for a long time, depending on how he feels once this whole thing blows over. There’s no need to put himself at risk when he can use a puppet instead.

It’s almost definitely unnecessary, but there’s always a chance she may decide to go with another option than telling his dam. She certainly has the ability to do almost anything she decides is warranted, and she still hasn’t taught him to resist mental attacks. Even if she did, there’s no telling if she would hold back some trick only she has figured out. Best not keep his brain near her, just in case.

Trust is a binary. It is present in sufficient quantities for a given situation or it is not. He’s not exactly feeling a “yes” for most things right this moment, but he’s aware enough to recognize that his emotions are having an impact. Maybe once the dust settles he’ll feel differently.

He can understand informing a parent about their foal’s behavior when they’re not around. That’s totally reasonable under most circumstances. There’s some question as to whether that trumps things involving national security or confidential information, but he supposes sharing that kind of stuff is ultimately her call regardless.

To her credit, she did include the tidbit from Stormsurge about the Matobo Tribe’s movements. That, as much as any other one thing, is what convinced him he needed to make them aware of the stakes. Omitting it would have been a dick move.

Assuming the zebras take action, he’s not sure whether or not that news will be passed on. Given how he reacted to only the possibility, he kind of doubts it will. At least, not unless there’s some kind of immediate threat that he absolutely must be made aware of.

If they come then all bets are off, he mentally snarls, lips curled in anger.

The young alicorn subconsciously flies faster, his weariness cast aside by blind fury. Adrenaline floods his system as vision after vision of violence flash through his mind.

Only a few seconds after crossing into Baltimare airspace, his Invisibility shell shatters, pulling his attention back to reality and out of the bloodsoaked spiral he had started to imagine. Confusion usurps fury as he searches for the cause, and he soon realizes he has only himself to blame once again. A deep breath extinguishes his scintillating wings, and a few more finally calm his mane and tail.

The bright light is easily noticed in the otherwise darkened sky, and the sudden, focused attention of the base’s scrying arrays cause his crown to start buzzing. Patrolling unicorns on the ground shine Light spells into his approximate direction. Serpentus curses up a small storm when he realizes it’s too late to simply recast his spell. It’s one thing to go completely unnoticed, but now that an intrusion has been detected it’s better to let them confirm the source.

Resigned to his fate, he lights up his horn and glides to a small cloud where everypony can get a good look. With the cause of the disturbance identified, the horns on the ground wink out and the sudden influx of scrying ports taper off. A series of chirps from his left draws his attention to a squad of bats who have altered their course to intercept.

Today is going to suck. I can feel it all the way down into my bones, he silently grouses.

Forced smile plastered back on his face, Serpentus waves jauntily to the three as they slow into a hover. “Good morning!” he greets once they get close enough to hear. It takes him a second to recognize them with their armor, but once he gets a good look he realizes that he's met them before. Now that he thinks about it, he’s not sure if there are very many bats in the entire Baltimare region he hasn’t healed or given membranes to at this point. “Corporal Skyhook, Private Ridgeway, Private Glitterdust. All is well, I hope?”

“Good morning, your highness! It’s been a quiet night, sir,” the lead stallion replies. Looking the colt over from tail to horn, he asks, “Are you alright, though, sir? It looked like… Well, honestly, it looked like you were on fire.”

“Ah, no. I mean everything’s okay, but no to the fire part. That was just, you know, alicorn stuff,” he weakly offers, waving a wing to show that his plumage is unsinged. “The princess said I’ll get these flare-ups once in a while until, eventually, I just stay like that.” With a put upon huff he adds, “Forever, to my eternal glee. Frankly, fire would probably be easier to deal with,” he grumbles, snout scrunched in annoyance. “At least then I could put it out and be done with it.”

Judging from the unsure looks the three exchange, they don’t seem to share the colt’s sentiment. He’s not sure why. Being on fire would kind of suck, but at least that’s temporary. He would expect that, of any tribe, a bat could understand what a nuisance glowing in the dark all the time would be.

“As you say, sir. We could provide an escort if you’d like. Are you on your way to the hospital?”

Serpentus draws a deep breath and shakes his head no. “Actually, I was headed to Carol to see if the captain is available. First, though, one of the gate guards mentioned a place that supposedly has amazing bearclaws, so-”

“Baltimare’s Best?!” Glitterdust excitedly interrupts. Clapping her forehooves in anticipation, she croons, “Stars above they are sooooo! Goooood!” Her bright purple eyes almost sparkle as she dips her head in an awkward, flying bow and begs, “Can we escort you there, sir? Please? Our shift’s over in about an hour, and my parents love their wildberry jelly filled doughnuts! It’s a little late for breakfast, but that means we’ll have dessert with lunch!”

The two stallions stare aghast, horrified that the private so blatantly cut off his highness. Despite not being in the best mood, her infectious giddiness brings a genuine smile to Serpentus’ face. Even more amusing is the panicked look on the stallions, both of whom are slowly inching away from the young mare.

“Dessert after lunch?” he pretends to mull over as if ponies need an excuse to have dessert. “That’s a brilliant idea, private. How about you lead the way?”

Request granted, she twirls triumphantly in the air like a top, finishing off with a flip that ends with her oriented in the correct direction while giving him quite the view in the process. “Yes sir! Follow me, sir!” she chirps before taking off to the southeast. The stallions look back and forth between her and the alicorn for a moment, finally shrugging and chasing after the mare.

Shorting a chuckle, Serpentus spreads his wings and dives off the cloud, quickly gaining on the impromptu escort. He catches a few high pitched clicks and squeaks from the mare that seem to carry well on the wind. The few bat civilians in the sky seem to understand her meaning, diverting their courses to stay well away from their route with the other flyers in the sky mostly automatically following their lead.

Baltimare’s Best Bake Shop is a single story, pale yellow brick building on the northeast corner of its block a little south of the base. Tall, wide windows line the two customer-facing sides of the building and a large, golden metal, rotating door on its corner marks the entrance and exit. The door in particular looks odd and extremely out of place for a bakery, but it does add a somewhat whimsical vibe to the joint. He guesses that it must also be enchanted to keep slowly spinning since it’s going at a steady pace even when nopony is nearby.

Amusingly, it also seems to momentarily vex the two stallions leading the way. Glitterdust doesn’t hesitate to prance right on by the onlookers who have stopped to gawk, but the inability to hold the door open for the colt seems to have caused the stallions to freeze on the spot and stare at the door as if it committed some affront by being designed in such a way. Serpentus trotting on by seems to rouse them from their trance, and, in a single-file line, the three make their way in.

The walkway from the door zigs to the right as it approaches the L-shaped counter, zags around back across the glass displays showing the selection of pastries available for purchase, and comes to and end at a register at the center corner where orders are placed and paid for. The counter to customers’ left has a blue “Pick Up” sign with pink cursive writing hanging from the ceiling along with an array of self-serve cold and hot beverages.

Fortunately there’s not many ponies in line, but there are quite a few in the two dining areas that the walkway from the entrance bisects. If conversation lessened when the mare stepped in with her gleaming golden armor, it came to a crashing halt when Serpentus followed in his similarly golden, if seemingly unarmored, flight suit. Every head in the restaurant swivels in his direction, with several ponies still holding a half-eaten doughnut up as if they halted to stare mid-bite.

The effect spreads like a series of waves of awareness sweeping across the room. Ponies that had been looking out the window react first, followed by the ones who didn’t notice him outside but are facing the entrance. Next, the ones with their backs or sides to him crane their necks to see what’s going on, then the foals who were also facing away but are only realizing something is up when their tablemates suddenly stop eating. Last but not least, the very few infants and younger foals seem to take notice, and they adorably spend a long moment staring at their dam or sire before turning their whole body around in their seat to see what the big deal is.

One tiny bat filly even waves in greeting, using the same hoof that is still clutching a doughnut she had bitten into right before he walked in. “Hi!” she squeaks out, her tiny, high-pitched voice slicing through the otherwise silence.

“Well hello there, you little cutie,” he warmly replies, waving his hoof in return. “You don’t have to pay me any mind, folks. I’m here as a customer, just like anypony else,” he calls out to the rest of the room, voice soft but filling it nonetheless He follows in the private’s hoofsteps and approaches the end of the line waiting to order. Ponies ahead rush to step aside and motion him and his escort to the front.

He would prefer not to, but knows that it would inevitably end up taking more time. They would gesture ahead. He could decline. They would insist. He could either argue and enter into a ridiculous polite-off, or he skips all the mess and accepts so everypony can get on with their lives.

It’s simply not worth the effort.

“Thanks, folks,” he says in a more normal tone, head ducked in gratitude. Thankfully, conversation steadily grows back to almost normal levels as he makes his way up to the counter. Private Glitterdust, not having waited for him or the stallions, is already at the register rattling off an order for herself. Serpentus spares a moment looking at the offerings on display, glancing in the young mare’s direction as she hems and haws, trying to guess what her siblings are in the mood for today.

With the two of them on solid ground, it becomes more obvious that she is only a few hooves taller than him. He is six and three-quarter hooves to the withers. The private doesn’t even seem to have him beat by three hooves, placing her a little on the smaller side of average for a pegasus mare.

That’s okay, though, because she’s pretty. She has good facial symmetry, no noticeable blemishes, a healthy coat, good hip to barrel to chest ratios, tall, triangular fluffy ears, and a deep navy blue coat that looks black in poor lighting but, in the restaurant, has a more royal blue sheen where the light hits it at just the right angle. The dark purple of her wings matches quite nicely while still standing out against the blue of her coat.

It has always struck Serpentus as odd that a bat’s wings are the same color as their manes and tails while pegasi always match their coats. Apparently a pegasus can have that happen, too, if their dam is a pegasus and their sire is a bat, but that is exceedingly rare. As in, "there’s probably less than five in all of Cloudsdale" rare, so it isn’t something he has seen yet.

Actually, now that he’s really paying attention, Private Glitterdust’s coat is looking a little more purple than he remembers. In fact, the longer he analyzes the mare, the closer it seems to be matching her wings. Ah, that’s right. A powdered doughnut with grape jelly, he realizes. That’s what Posy liked last time!

A gentle tap on his side almost makes him jump in surprise and his head whips around to see who has approached him.

“Your highness?” Cpl. Skyhook nervously calls. “They’re ready for your order, sir.”

Serpentus blinks in confusion. Realizing he must have gone into a daze, he quickly takes stock of his situation. Nearly all of the diners have gone back to eating with only a few stealing quick glances in his direction. Pvt. Ridgeway took up position on his tail but looks like he doesn’t know what to do other than stand there and look around. To be fair, that seems like what a guard should be doing about ninety-nine percent of the time.

The mare at the counter is smiling entirely too broadly for somepony that is working before eight in the morning. It takes a second for him to realize that she isn’t smiling. She’s smirking. And looking between him and Pvt. Glitterdust, who is studiously avoiding his eyes, shuffling on her hooves, and blushing up a storm.

Shit! How long was I staring at her?!

“Uh, you go ahead and get whatever you want. That goes for you, too, private,” he orders, turning to look over his withers. “I’m still trying to figure out what all I need.”

Hesitating for only a moment, the two stallions step up to the counter. The young alicorn busies himself looking over the store’s selection until they are done with their orders. He steps in front of the register and rears up, resting his hooves on the counter’s edge. “Sorry about that, earlier. Had a long night.”

“Sure thing, yer highness.” Even though she voices her agreement out loud, her coy expression and the wink she shoots him tells him what, or rather who, she suspects to be the source of his distraction.

He briefly gives her a pouty glare before starting his order. “I need a half dozen powdered grape jelly and glazed mixed, four dozen assorted boxed separately, five dozen bearclaws if you have enough that I’m not running you out.”

“We bake extras fer Mondays, highness. Ain’t no problem a’tall.”

“Great!” he exclaims. “And finally, six to-go liters of coffee and one of tea.” Even with only two brain cells currently firing, he figures the total can’t be much more than a hundred and seventy bits. Balancing on his left hoof, he reaches into his suit’s collar with his right and withdraws a couple hundred bit coins from his pouch, sliding them across the counter. “Keep the change, miss.”

“Much obliged, highness! We’ll have ‘em right out for ya!”

Nodding in acceptance, the young alicorn and his three guards move to the left to get out of everypony’s way. While having an escort thrust upon him can be kind of annoying, he can’t deny how useful it is to deter everypony from needlessly approaching him. Even without his hearing turned all the way up, it isn’t difficult to hear one pony or another considering it. Some are parents with foals that want to introduce their child to him, either simply for the experience of meeting a prince or, in the case of a few, for slightly more opportunistic, though not malicious, reasons.

A trio of older pegasus fillies sitting a table over from their parents are daring a fourth - the youngest, it seems - to come say hi, giggling about whether his highness would be amenable to her approaching him. Serpentus slowly leans forward to peer past Private Glitterdust on his right, waiting until the youngest sister turns around to look at him again.

The table erupts in squeals of delight when he waggles his brow and blows her a kiss, but any confidence she had been building up seems to be dashed on the rocks. His movement had caught the private’s attention and, for a brief moment, she had misinterpreted the target of his teasing. Thankfully the laughter clues her in and she follows his gaze to the table before she gets herself too worked up.

A stallion soon emerges from the kitchen to make one of several trips piling box after box on the counter. “Order up, yer highness!” he cheerfully calls out with a shallow nod.

Private Ridgeway steps forward first, apparently deciding it’s his duty to somehow carry the load. “I’ve got it, private,” Serpentus interrupts, visibly igniting his horn so everypony knows he is casting a spell. The four boxes of mixed immediately vanish, two Teleported straight back to his workshop to be held until closer to sunrise for Glacial’s and Drift’s families and the other two sent straight to his dinner table at home for his family.

He doesn’t bother explaining where everything went, leaving the destination for everypony to guess. Instead, his horn continues to glow and the entire order floats off the counter to hang in midair, levitating over the colt as he and his escort take their leave. He has to hold everything directly overhead when passing through the rotating door, but he’s short enough that it isn’t a problem at all.

A very short flight later sees him to Carol’s front gate. Levitating each escort’s package onto their backs, he thanks them for their help and dismisses them, assuming they’re going to stop by their post to drop off their goodies quickly before resuming their patrol. Neither Posy nor Bitterbark are on duty at the moment, but the ponies that are agree to set aside a doughnut for each when they arrive for their shifts in a few hours.

Captain Stance and Lieutenant Scroll are both waiting for him inside the gate along with an unfamiliar pastel yellow unicorn stallion. The three snap to attention and salute as Serpentus approaches, barely sparing a glance to the array of boxes floating behind the foal.

“Good morning, captain. Lieutenant. Staff Sergeant,” he greets with a nod.

“Good morning, your highness!” is barked back at him by all three.

“Oof. You don’t need my talent to tell your lungs are healthy. At ease, all of you. It’s too damn early for all that… thatness.”

“Protocol, sir,” the mare indifferently offers, though she and the others do relax their rigid postures.

“Yeah, I’m a real stickler for protocol, aren’t I?” he rhetorically asks. “It’s all good, captain. I’m just giving you a hard time.” Focusing on the unicorn, he inclines his head in greeting. “I don’t believe we’ve met before, sergeant, but I do recall being told to meet with a Sgt. Hill once before the lieutenant intercepted me.”

“That would be me, your highness. The pleasure is all mine.”

“Eh, wait ‘till you get to know me better. You’ll change your tune sooner or later. So, enough foaling around. It’s Monday morning, which I’m betting means you probably have a whole week’s worth of stuff to get ready for, and I’m sure I wasn’t on your agenda before I lit up your skies.” At least the self deprecation, minor as it was, gets small smiles from the lieutenant and sergeant.

He makes a note to, one day, get a scan of the captain to be sure there is not, in fact, a stick literally up her ass. “Has Sergeant Hill been read in on my file?”

“Yes, sir, I have,” the unicorn confirms.

“Alright, then. You can stick around. I’ll keep this short.” He takes a half second to look around. Nopony is terribly close, but best to be safe. “I’m erecting a privacy screen. Heads up.” He gives each a chance to acknowledge him, then realizes his conundrum. Casting a spell while maintaining Levitation is possible, but it’s not something he can easily pull off. “Uhh… is there somewhere this all can go?” he asks, waving a wing in the air vaguely towards the food.

The sergeant takes the initiative, hollering for another unicorn to come relieve the colt of his burden. Once the guard is far enough away Serpentus surrounds the four in a bubble and begins, “Captain, if you haven’t already, you’ll be getting something from her majesty about arranging an escort for me to go around Golden Hills for an agricultural study.”

The light gray mare nods in confirmation. “It arrived when you did, sir, but was not marked urgent. I read it when I retired to base after the reception Saturday evening.”

“Good. While I would prefer to have a few pegasi follow me through the sky from farm to farm and knock it all out in half an hour, I suspect the princess wants something more visible.”

“That is what she indicated, sir.”

“Of course,” he drolls. “The whole thing is just so that I can have me and my body double visible around my hometown at the same time to further obfuscate my identity.”

“Sir?” Lt. Quill calls, waiting for the young alicorn to nod to proceed. “I read the report from Cpl. Bounce about the Broccoloid creature. Is it not the purpose of the survey to ascertain their presence on the nearby farms?”

“As far as the ponies of Golden Hills are concerned, yes. The Broccoloid themselves though? I very much doubt they exist. Surely I, or at least the ponies her majesty has watching over me, would have seen some evidence of this supposed Broccoloid Kingdom if they’re developed enough to have milled paper for scrolls and a textile industry that can produce fine cloaks dyed in red. My money’s on the whole thing being some crazy pony’s idea of a prank.” The colt rolls his eyes and scoffs, pointing out, “The scroll was written on in crayon for goodness sake!”

Captain Stance’s eyes narrow in suspicion. “I was not aware you had seen the scroll, sir. That it was written in crayon was not included in any of the articles about it.”

“I wasn’t given a chance to analyze it,” he admits, “but there was no shortage of witnesses, and the corporal, who goes by Ricochet, by the way, opened it right there in the lobby in front of everypony.”

“I… see,” she slowly replies, not bothering to hide her doubt.

“Anyhow, with the season just around the corner I would like to accomplish two tasks at once. First, the survey in Golden Hills, then while I’m there, I would also like to have a day to do health checks for ponies planning on trying for a foal in the upcoming season. Mares and stallions, both. There’s no reason I couldn’t see mares that are currently pregnant as well. I would like to do this for everyone in the Baltimare area that is interested. Depending on the turnout, I may need more than one day per town and will definitely need a few for the city proper.

“Now I know what you’re thinking. All of this is impossible if I’m only working three days a week. Well, all my friends are in school now so I might as well be productive with my time and all that. I’m going to talk to Dr. Care about expanding my hours to include Tuesdays, Thursdays, and afternoons and about this screening idea once I get the chance to today. What I’ll need from you is for you to coordinate with the RHA to plan out the logistics. I figured I should give you a heads-up to expect to hear from somepony soon and so that you can get whatever balls rolling that you need to.

“I brought you breakfast as an apology for dumping this mess on your plate with such a short turn-around time, so yeah, sorry it’s all so last-minute. The idea just came up over the weekend.”

Rather than looking bothered like he had expected, all three are subconsciously bobbing their heads in silent approval. The captain looks to her left, first meeting Lt. Quill’s eyes then the sergeant’s. “That shouldn’t be difficult at all, sir,” she finally confirms. Turning back to face the colt, she adds, “We will begin preparations on our end and, once we confer with the RHA scheduling team, send a proposed itinerary to the hospital for your review.”

“Awesome! Glad to hear it. Anything else before I dispel this?” he asks, eyes flicking up towards his horn.

“No, sir.”

“Good deal. I think I’m going to go for a flight around town before my shift starts, then. No need for an escort!” he rushes to add. Before anypony has a chance to protest, the barrier collapses and the colt disappears in a bright flash of light. The other end of his Teleport flares up high in the night sky, illuminating any nearby clouds for an instant then winking out.

Lt. Quill blinks the spots from his eyes and looks up towards the clouds. “Huh. I can’t seem to spot him. “Must have gone Invisible again.”

The captain remains mostly silent, only blowing out a long suffering sigh.

Sgt. Hill turns to face the officers and says, “Permission to inform the monitoring station that the perimeter breach they’re no doubt searching for was his highness, ma’am?”

The only response he receives before departing is a small bob of the mare’s head.

“Excellent. I believe I may procure one of those doughnuts afterwards.” The stallion gives a quick salute, turns on the spot, and trots away without another word.

“It may be presumptuous of me,” the lieutenant diplomatically begins, “but I have a sneaking suspicion that his highness knows more about the Broccoloid thing than he lets on.”

The mare snorts and shakes her head. “I don’t believe that’s presumptuous at all, lieutenant. I am curious, though.”

“Hmm?”

“Lt. Shift returned to Canterlot yesterday afternoon.”

“Ah. About his body double,” the pegasus guesses.

“Exactly, lieutenant.”

“I wonder who he found. He seems smart enough not to use one of his friends.”

Shaking her head no, Captain Stance confidently declares, “It’s not one of them. They would all be in school starting today, regardless. I’m far more concerned that, in the case of his highness, ‘body double’ may be entirely too literal.”

A pregnant pause hangs in the air as the two ponder the possibilities.

“You think he somehow duplicated himself, ma’am?”

“I don’t know, but if he did then what’s stopping him from making even more?”

Luna’s moon slides smoothly below the western horizon, bringing an end to the night. In stillness and silence the land seems to pause, bracing itself for the morning’s sunlight. With unnatural swiftness the sun streaks into the sky, bathing all of Equestria in dawn’s first rays and drawing curses and distressed groans from nearly every foal inside of its borders.

The first day of school has finally arrived, and Polished Apple could not be more excited to start. With a song in her heart and a skip of her hooves, the mare dances between the desks making sure they’re ready to go. Desktops are cleaned and waxed, name tags are set out showing each foal where to sit, and books are shelved and lined up just so. Her name is written in perfect cursive on the board with a border of shiny red, green, and yellow apples drawn all around it.

With Celestia’s sun having just risen into the sky, she shouldn’t have to wait too long for her very first student to arrive! Halting mid step, the mare strains to hear; the familiar little clip-clop of small hooves is already approaching! It’s wonderful to have foals that are so eager to learn!

“Be calm, be professional, Polished!” she demands of herself. Sitting placidly behind her desk, she turns to the door to greet the foal with a warm, welcoming smile. Sadly her efforts are all for naught; unable to contain her excitement for even one second more, she shoots to her hooves as soon as the door’s handle starts turning.

“Goooood mooooorniiiing~!” she cheerfully sings out, “and welcome to … Cure Wave?!”

“Named the building after me, didjya?” the colt teasingly asks as he trots through the door.

“Hardly,” the mare flatly answers. She suspiciously eyes the white boxes stacked on his back. “What are you doing here? I have a hard time believing you had a change of heart, after all.”

Cure scoffs and shakes his head no, echoing back, “Hardly. No,” he says, approaching her desk to explain, “I’m just stopping by on my way to work. I was up early and figured I would bring the girls a ‘Happy New School Year’ treat or whatever. Start the whole thing on the right hoof. Then I figured I could just get something for everypony, because why not?”

“Aww! That was very kind of you, Cure!” the mare warmly gushes. “Thank you!”

Generous, he mentally corrects.

“I can help you. How about we put them on my desk?” she asks, stepping around it to lend a hoof.

The colt freezes. He gives the desk an unsure look and his nostrils flare wide as he takes a deep breath. Reaching into his mane, he withdraws a crystal and uses it to cast a spell on its surface.

Frozen in place, Polished looks on bewildered. “Cure?”

“Just had to… ya know. Give it a quick Sanitizing,” he mumbles under his breath, punctuating it with an awkward cough. “Food safety and all that, ya know. Sure, though. Go ahead and take these off’a me, if ya could, please.”

One by one she moves the boxes onto her desk, peeking inside as she goes. “You certainly got more than enough for everypony. Are you sure you don’t want to take some to your mom? Several desks will be empty until the harvest is done, after all.”

Shaking his head, he waves the idea away with a flick of his hoof. “Nah, I buy doughnuts all the time. Go ahead and take ‘em all. I made everypony at home breakfast before I left anyhow.”

“You made everypony breakfast?” she repeats in surprise.

Cure shrugs minutely, admitting, “I was up first. Bad dreams. You know how it is.”

“Aww, poor thing,” she coos, laying down and wrapping him in a hug. It’s a little awkward having grabbed him from his right side, but the colt doesn’t seem to mind, leaning into her chest and nuzzling her neck with his head. “Maybe you should try to take a nap before your first client. When do your appointments start?”

“At eight o’clock.”

“And,” she hesitates for a few seconds, then leans down to his ear to whisper, “what about your first patient?”

“Uhhh… I just said eight o’clock,” he slowly answers, feigning confusion.

Scooting back so she can meet his eyes, Polished Apple blows out a sigh. “Cure, honey, I’ll freely admit that I may not know everything. I sure as hay don’t know how you’re doing whatever you’re doing. Some kind of fancy alicorn magic, I would venture. But… I would be a pretty lousy teacher if I didn’t at least know my students. Granted, it didn’t dawn on me until I saw the pictures of you at the coronation,” she admits.

“Right. I was in the stands at the coronation,” he agrees.

“Mhmm. With your family.”

“Uh huh.”

“And all of your friends.”

“Yeah.”

“And all of their families, too.”

“Well… I had a lot of tickets.”

“I bet you did. Thirty some odd to spare, apparently. And of course, this was after you happened to be in the capital during his highness’s transformation just a month and a half prior.”

A beat of silence passes. She stares at him with a knowing look.

“Heck of a coincidence, huh?” he asks, chuckling uncomfortably.

“Oh, certainly. Coincidence,” she disingenuously agrees. “Just like your similar builds and cutie marks and talents and ages and where you live and so forth and so on,” she casually points out. “Remind me again, why did you quit working at the clinic?”

“Umm… ‘cause the pay sucked?”

“If I recall correctly, you were volunteering.”

“The pay really sucked,” he amends.

“Then we are very lucky that his highness showed up when he did, aren’t we?”

“Yeah, I guess so. Somepony should give him a medal or something. Maybe even a crown,” he offers with a weak shrug.

“How about a hug?” she offers, forelegs spread again in offering.

“... He would probably be fine with a hug,” he agrees, but doesn’t make any move to approach her. The mare rolls her eyes and scoots forward, wrapping him up again. He mercifully chooses not to resist, going so far as to wrap his forelegs around her neck as well. After all, if pretty ladies want to cuddle on him, it’s his Harmony-given duty to oblige them.

Leaning back down to his ear, she says, “I would also be a pretty lousy teacher if I couldn’t see when one of my students is hurting. The Cure Wave I know would never come to school early. It felt like I could hardly keep him here at all, for Celestai’s sake! What’s causing you bad dreams, hmm?”

“I might have, kinda, maybe done something that upset my parents.”

“Ah. So you’re avoiding them this morning,” she aptly guesses.

“Not avoiding them, exactly. I just couldn’t sleep, so…”

“So you missed me enough that you came up with an excuse to visit?” she asks in a teasing tone. “I’m touched, Cure.”

The colt leans away far enough to shoot her a weak glare. “Are all Apples so sarcastic?”

“Only the ones that don’t live on a farm.”

“Lucky me,” he grouses, twisting between her forelegs so his side and back press into her chest.

“Stop trying to change the subject. Whatever you did, and please don’t tell me what it was if it’s some kind of secret, was it something that you should not have done?”

“No,” he confidently declares. “It needed to be done.”

“You think it needed to be, or it needed to be?”

“The latter. The potential consequences otherwise… I couldn’t risk it.”

“... Really?”

Nodding firmly, he confirms, “Absolutely.”

“Hmm. I’ve not known you to have poor judgement, Cure. Presumably your parents do not agree?”

“Not all of them. My sire said he understood, even if he wasn’t exactly happy about how I went about it. He at least admitted he couldn’t think of a more effective method. Mom - Title, I mean - didn’t seem surprised, but didn’t say anything one way or the other. I think Amy was on my side, but… you know. United front, defer to the first wife and my dam and all that. Lemon wasn’t too happy, but she didn’t speak up, either.”

“Well, that doesn’t sound too bad, all things considered.”

“I made my dam cry,” he admits. In the year that she has known the colt, she can’t think of a single other time she has seen him look so… defeated. His shoulders fall at the admission and his neck subconsciously droops as he pressed his chin into her right foreleg.

The mare fails to hide a small cringe. “Oh. Well, it sounds to me like, maybe, you could be wrong about it, whatever it is, being necessary. Or,” she is quick to add, “perhaps the reason you feel it was needed was not fully communicated to your dam.”

When he doesn’t immediately respond she prods gently into his mane with her snout to rouse him. “Probably,” he tentatively agrees. “The communication thing, I mean. It’s not like I got a chance to give my side before she was already upset. She was just all emotional and stuff.”

“Give it time, then, honey,” she suggests, nuzzling into his mane. “Maybe by tonight you can sit down and discuss the situation more calmly. Either way, I’m sure your dam is every bit as upset as you are, Cure. Don’t avoid her, okay? You know what happens when we ignore wounds, after all.”

“They can get worse,” he understandingly agrees. Rising to his hooves, he leans up to nuzzle his brow into her chin. “You’re a pretty good teacher, Miss Apple.”

“Thank you, Cure Wave.”

“I’m half tempted to take back everything I said last year, ya know?” he playfully asks.

The mare sighs good naturedly and rolls her eyes as she rises. “That is very kind of you, your highness,” she dryly intones, head dipping into a small bow.

The colt rolls his eyes and scoffs. “Don’t you even start. I sure as hay don’t need anypony adding to those crazy, definitely incorrect rumors. Oh, and your students are starting to show up,” he adds, flicking his muzzle towards the door. “You go ahead and get into ‘position,’” he emphasizes with a teasing lilt, “and I’m gonna go say hi to the girls.”

“Certainly, your highness,” she playfully calls, skipping back behind her desk.

The colt starts making his way to the door, pushing it open to head out. Just before the door closes, he pokes his muzzle in through the crack. “Oh, and thanks, Miss Apple. See ya!” he calls, slipping out and letting it close behind him.

Smiling fondly as the door clicks shut, Polished relishes the sense of accomplishment that floods through her core. Once again staring eagerly towards the door, the mare valiantly ignores the sugary sweet scents assaulting her nostrils. Her gaze briefly flicks to the boxes piled upon her desk, and an unbidden thought intrudes on her mind. “Why,” she wonders, “would he have felt the need to clean my desk before putting food on it? It’s not like anything gross has ever been on… it… Oh maker above!” she mentally screams, blushing a brilliant bright red just as the door is pulled open.

Cure draws more than a few curious stares as he is trotting away from the schoolhouse. Not so much from the foals who had been at the school the year prior, but the first year students, mostly accompanied by a parent or two, are all looking at him wondering why a school-aged colt is trotting along in the wrong direction.

He doesn’t pay them or the other foals any mind, beelining straight for the three fillies headed his way. With them living closer to town than the others, it’s no surprise that Rising, Sapphire, and Dawn are the first of the gang to arrive.

He no more than opens his muzzle to greet them when Sapphire lunges forward, clamping a hoof on either side of his face. With her snout only a fraction of a hoof from his own, she stares straight into his eyes, shouting, “Just what are you trying to pull here, mister?!”

Unsure how to respond, Cure shoots a questioning look to the others. Apparently the filly doesn’t approve, as his eyes no more than stray from her own before she gives his head a good shake. “Don’t you go lookin at them! I’m the one asking the questions around here, buddy! Who are you?!”

“Uhh… Cure Wave?” he hesitantly answers, unsure exactly what kind of bit the filly is putting on.

“Oh, no no no!” she tisks, shaking her head in disapproval. “You couldn’t possibly be Cure Wave. Cure Wave doesn’t have to go to school anymore, and he would sure as hay never show up early! You are clearly some kind of imposter! Who. Do. You. Work. For?!” she demands, leaning forward to press her brow against his.

“Saph,” he starts with a tired, annoyed tone, “if you don’t get yer dusty friggin hooves off’a my face in about half of a second then I’ll remove them myself. I can’t promise that I will be gentle.”

The filly leans back and gives a firm nod of approval. “Good. I was worried for a second there.” Looking over her withers, she reassures the other two fillies, “Don’t worry. It’s really him. Only the Cure we know and love would jump straight to threats of violence!”

“Thanks for clearing that up, Saph,” Rising dryly remarks. Panning her gaze to the colt, who has busied himself with wiping the dirt off his cheeks while scowling at the teal girl, she says, “I’m surprised you’re here, though. What the hay happened yesterday?! You said we’d get together then sent a message saying you’re grounded.”

“I… may have gotten in trouble a little,” he admits with a wince. “It’s not anything I can tell you about. Long story short, my dam was pissed off ‘cause of something that happened in Canterlot.”

“What? The zebra thing?” Dawn asks, cheeks darkening slightly at the reminder of her coltfriend’s unique way of earning bits in the capital.

For the brief second that he misunderstood her question, Serpentus, still lazily soaring around Baltimare, suddenly drops several dozen meters in altitude when his wings lock firmly in place. It only takes a moment for him to realize she was referring to Adiah, but his puppet froze momentarily as well.

Once his brain reboots he cringes but shakes his head no. “She wasn’t exactly proud of that one either, but no.” Conversation briefly pauses as passing foals greet the four foals. Once they’re alone enough again he continues, “Sorry, but this is going to be one of those ‘I can’t tell you’ things.”

The filly quirks a brow in surprise. “That bad, huh?”

Blowing out a tired sigh, Cure gives her a weary nod. “Yeah. Bad enough the boss wrote her a letter with ‘Destroy After Reading’ hornwritten in caps across the top. In red ink, no less.” It’s the fillies’ turn to wince from the implication alone. “Yyyyup,” he drawls, confirming how poorly his evening went. “And I have to say that it was warranted. So, yeah… grounded. No more casual ring use for now. Only for work, which sucks. Also, no sleepovers for a while, probably. At least not until the Running. I’m not on full blown house arrest or anything, but you may be seeing a bit less of me for a while.”

“Is there anything we can do?” Rising hesitantly asks.

“Not really,” he sighs, looking far more upset than the fillies have ever seen him.

Dawn makes the first move, stepping close enough for their chests to touch. She nuzzles his cheek on his left and crosses her neck over his in a hug. Rising doesn’t hesitate for a second, taking a half step closer on his right and mirroring the young unicorn. Wedged as he is between the two girls, Cure feels like the knot in his chest is loosened just the barest amount. He leans left and then right, pressing against each, before laying his head on Dawn’s back. Her saddlebag’s skirt is in the way, but he couldn’t care less; her comforting scent comes through the soft fabric with ease.

Not wanting to be left out, Sapphire hops to his right and rears up, leaning her front half across his back and nuzzles her chin into his withers. “Poor Cutie Wave,” she solemnly coos. “Don’t you worry your pretty little feathers too much. Your dam will probably forget about whatever it is by next week. Mine always does!” she gleefully reassures him. Leaning more upright against his side and back, she taps thoughtfully on her chin with her pastern. “Then again, I’ve never done anything bad enough to get a letter from Prin-”

The filly’s muzzle is clamped shut by Dawn’s aura, but she still keeps talking as if nothing happened. Thankfully, it all comes out in a long, indecipherable mumble that draws bewildered and amused looks from the passersby that were previously gushing and cooing at the otherwise adorable scene.

A surprising amount of support from his former teacher, some quick affection with the girls, and a sedate, uneventful flight around the city do wonders to boost the young alicorn’s mood. While he may not exactly be walking on sunshine, he at least feels like he can keep his chin up long enough to make it through the day.

He does his best not to overly concern himself with the fact that, more and more, it seems like everypony in town is figuring out his secret. Granted, Polished Apple has had a lot more interaction with him than almost any unrelated adult that lives in Golden Hills, but if she can ignore the apparent impossibility and jump to the correct conclusion then it’s very likely many others have as well.

If everypony is going to chalk up him being in two places at once as “some fancy alicorn magic” then… Well, they’re not completely wrong. That doesn’t make it any less annoying or inconvenient for him. Hopefully most ponies in town will be a little less ignorant about what magic can and can’t do and come to the wrong conclusion like he wants them to.

He figures that all he can do at this point is keep up the front, dodge any direct questions if somepony has the guts to ask, and never, under any circumstances, confirm their suspicions. If he can keep up the charade long enough then hopefully even somepony that is almost completely certain he is Prince Serpentus will still hesitate to bug Cure Wave in his day to day life.

With a slightly less troubled mind, Serpentus twists his wings just so, flinging him off his straight path up the coast towards the northwest. He spends only another moment taking in the sights. Thousands of ponies below head to work while the fishing boats and trade ships disembark from port. One new sight in particular catches the colt’s attention. Straight ahead of him and below a kilometer or two he spots hundreds of pegasi youth - some accompanied by parents - all making their way to the cloud district for school.

It’s a magnificent sight that, as much as anything else, really drives home that he lives in a magical world. Sure he had seen more pegasi when visiting Cloudsdale, but he was inside an enclosed chariot peering through a window. Looking down on the massive flock of pegasi interspersed with the occasional griffon or hippogriff all on their way to school for their first day is a magnificent sight to behold.

It isn’t hard to spot Glacial and Drift. The former sparkles like an iridescent snowflake in the wind, her coat gleaming silvery blue in dawn’s early light. The latter is one of the few dark coated pegasi in the bunch, and as much as she was complaining about school starting again, she doesn’t seem upset in the least. Flying in a group with eight other fillies, the girl seems to be chatting up a small storm.

Wind Shear and her posse trail more sedately along. Serpentus recognizes a few of them from the incident last year. Apparently the makeover he gave the filly has elevated her standing somewhat; she seems to be the center of attention amongst the fillies her age as well as a few staring colts. He wonders briefly if any of the gawkers are her ex-coltfriend. Most of the young stallions are either in a group together or have small herds of young mares already vying for their attention. A few fillies are off to the side trying to show off with their skills in the air with varying degrees of success.

An idea forms in the colt’s mind. A bad one, in all likelihood, but one with an irresistible pull. Time is of the essence, though, so he picks up the pace. Channeling earth pony magic into his chest and back, Serpentus’ muscles bulge, accelerating him towards north as quickly as they can manage. He gains altitude as he soars above and beyond the school. Invisibility still intact, he veers to the left in a tight hairpin turn, wings slicing through the air like knives.

With most of his speed preserved, he activates the crystal pony glow, dispelling the Invisibility as he dips into a fast but shallow dive. He opens his left wing tilted down and his right on a slight incline and locks them in place, sending him on a tight counter-clockwise spiral as he rockets through the morning sky. The hospital off in the distance is his target, and he focuses his attention on its front steps. It’s important when in a spiral to maintain orientational awareness, and he definitely doesn’t want to end up in a crash.

Hundreds of heads snap up to the sky when a golden light suddenly appears. It only takes a split second for the ponies below to recognize the sight; their young alicorn prince is putting on a show for the other foals headed to school, and what a show it is! A sparkling golden star shoots across the morning sky, rocketing towards the hospital. Gasps and shouts of excitement sound out as the alicorn silently blasts past the school in a split second, hurling like a lightning bolt towards the city.

The show only lasts a few seconds, and the entire flock of foals soar higher to not miss the end. Ponies on the ground scramble out of his way, but the prince proves their concerns unnecessary. With only a scant few hundred meters until impact, the colt’s wings level out, then tilt up. Spiral fully arrested, he catapults into the sky to bleed speed, seemingly only a few hooves short of the building. Almost lazily compared to before, he flips head over tail upright, then flat spins down to the ground leaving a trail of glistening air behind him.

Serpentus lands lightly on ground only a few meters short of the hospital’s main entrance. He doesn’t miss Sgt. Blackhoof’s expression; a combination of annoyed, exasperated, and slightly concerned. At least Spc. Strafe was impressed by the display. The mare looks like she could barely hold herself back from applauding. The sergeant shoots an annoyed look to his subordinate who seems completely oblivious before turning to the colt and pointing out, “His highness is aware that aerial maneuvers such as the ones he executed are not allowed within the city limits, is he not?”

Caring not a single whit, Serpentus shrugs his wings and smiles back. “Ah. Damn, sarge, ya got me. I plead guilty on all counts and sentence myself to a hundred hours of community service to begin immediately.”

Swapping to the stallion’s voice, he continues, “Oh, and by the way, welcome back, your highness. Good morning. We missed you more than words can express.”

A little hop to his left has him switching back to his own. “Oh, hey, sarge! Good to see you! I really missed you all, too! Did you enjoy your downtime the last few weeks?”

Hopping to his right, he swaps again. “You bet, we did! We’re rested and ready to rock, now, though, sir! Lead the way!” he exclaims, thrusting a hoof to the hospital doors.

Back to his left, he continues the single-colt conversation, firing off a crisp wing salute to the imaginary stallion on his right. “Awesome, sarge! Glad to hear it! Let’s get this show on the road!”

Twist and Strafe both shake and snort in their armor, doing their very best not to laugh out loud. The dark earth pony stallion watches resigned to his fate, sighing when the colt finally finishes. “Very amusing, sir,” Blackhoof dryly notes.

“I’m glad you think so, sarge. Let’s get moving, though,” he commands, slipping past the three. “I’m sure there’s at least a few ponies that are just dying to see me.” The stallion’s quiet groan is magic to the colt’s ears.

Entering the lobby, Serpentus is unsurprised to spot Dr. Care waiting for him by the main reception desk. She meets his eyes and tilts her head to her side, motioning for him to follow. He breaks into a quicker trot until he catches up, alighting to her right while she makes her way through the corridors leading to the ICU. “Good mornin, colt. Neat show out there. Please never, ever do it again.”

“Aww. No fun,” he grumps, shooting her a pitiful pout. He can almost hear the victorious smile on the sergeant’s muzzle.

“Glad you’re back, by the way.”

“Glad to be back, doc. Miss me?”

She gives him an evaluating look. “For the most part.”

“Breakin my heart, here, doc.”

“I’m sure you’ll live. In all seriousness, I hate that this’ll be the first thing you have to deal with, buuuut…”

Serpentus sighs and looks up, cocking a brow in question.

“... we have a bit of a… well, a mess, basically.” Stopping just far enough from the ICU doors that they won’t hit them if somepony rushes through, she explains, “Your life support plants have really come through. One of our ‘close calls’ is Lord Worthington Clearport. He took a bad spill Wednesday evening when coming home from the golf course. His front hoof slid off the step when he was stepping out of his carriage and he went down horn first. He hit hard. Had to be airlifted from the Parkdale clinic. We stabilized him, but… well, the lights are on. I don’t know if you recognize the name,” she trails off in question.

“Some kind of shipping magnate, right?”

“Exactly,” she confirms with a nod. “He was apparently managing the household affairs by himself. His wife is demented enough that she can no longer make sound decisions for them.”

“How demented, exactly?”

The mare wavers a hoof in the air, answering, “She remembers her own name. She usually knows who he is, even if she gets it a little mixed up sometimes. She’s referred to him as her sire once or twice. As far as what year it is? What day it is? How to do… Well, really, much of anything? Not so much. Lord Clearport apparently took care of almost everything.”

“Okay. So what’s the problem?”

“Their eldest daughter, Midday Clearport, petitioned and was granted emergency power of attorney sometime Friday afternoon. She is here with her attorney demanding that life supporting measures be removed. As one might expect, she stands to inherit a sizable fortune once her parents are gone. Even with her dam alive, demeted as she is, she’ll have full control over the estate."

“Oh. Well, sucks for her,” he flippantly comments. “I don’t answer to the courts.”

“Exactly.” She looks to the doors then back to the colt. “You ready for this?”

Serpentus’ wings stretch up off his back and any hint of informality vanishes in an instant. Not waiting for the doctor to lead the way, he gives the doors a firm shove with his Telekinesis and strolls into the ICU lobby. Nopony in particular stands out as his pans his gaze across the room, but the nurse at the main desk looks positively relieved to see him. She silently points a hoof to the doors leading back into the ICU proper.

Nodding in acceptance, he makes his way there, only pausing for a moment to cast Cleaning on himself and his guards. Dr. Nala is just down the hall, arguing in hushed tones with two unicorns that have their rears turned towards him. The opening doors and outstretched wings immediately draw the zebra’s attention, and a relieved smile stretches across her muzzle. Realizing that somepony important has arrived, both unicorns look over their withers as well. When her eyes land on the colt the mare's horn ignites, snatching a small stack of papers out of the doctor’s grip.

“Your highness!” the mare greets, moving to block his path. Serpentus estimates her to be in her late fifties or early sixties, which isn’t exactly old even for a unicorn, but is well outside what most would consider young. Despite her age, she moves with the grace of a pony half her age. Dropping smoothly to one knee, she bows her head and turns, aiming her horn slightly to his left. “Lady Midday Clearport, at your service, my prince. I am positively thrilled to make your acquaintance,” she warmly calls out, “even if the circumstances leave much to be desired.”

“A pleasure to meet you as well, Lady Clearport. You may rise.”

Rising every bit as gracefully back to her hooves, she stands tall and proud with her chest thrust out. “The pleasure is all mine, your highness. I presume your highness has been asked to see my sire, Lord Clearport?”

“You presume correctly. I understand you have been granted emergency power of attorney to act on behalf of your sire?”

“That is correct, your highness. I have the court approved paperwork right here.” Said documents are held in her aura to the young alicorn who takes them with a grateful nod.

He spends a moment reading over the papers, not really knowing what to look for. The basics are all there, as best he can tell, but if there’s some loophole or exception written into the document there is absolutely no chance he could catch it. He doesn’t let that bother him, though. “I see. It looks like everything is in order. As I understand it, you have asked that hospital staff remove any life preserving measures, correct?”

“That is correct, your highness.”

“Have they done so yet?”

“No, your highness. This… zebra has physically barred our path, refusing to budge despite my attorney’s insistence.”

Serpentus looks past the unicorn to the doctor. “Doctor Nala? Is Lady Clearport’s statement accurate?”

Confused by the foal’s unusually formal tone, the doctor hesitates for a bare instant before rallying. “I was only trying to explain-”

“Apologies for interrupting,” he begins, “but a simple yes or no will suffice, doctor.”

Barely holding back a scowl, the mare barks back in answer, “Yes, your highness.”

“Please stand aside, then, and I will ensure that it is done. Lady Clearport? I would ask that you wait here. A mare of your standing need not be present for such things, after all.”

Delighted at the turn of events, the unicorn excitedly bobs her head and steps aside, bowing as Serpentus walks by. The attorney does the same, otherwise making no move to speak up or intervene. Dr. Nala, on the other hoof, does not budge and stays standing in his way even when he looks up at her. She stares defiantly down at the shorter alicorn, then looks up to Dr. Care by his side. Dr. Care gives her a small nod and tilts her head to the side. The zebra’s shoulders sink. Resigned, she steps to the side.

“Actually, Dr. Nala, please accompany me so that I may instruct you on the proper way to remove the equipment.”

Scowling balefully, the mare begins to protest. “I know how to -”

“Now, please,” he stoically insists.

Seething so badly her face and neck are striped black and red, the mare dutifully follows the prince and other doctor into the room.

Serpentus lights up his horn, closing the door behind her. “Fuuuck meeee,” he finally groans, wings falling back down to his sides. Head tilted back as far as it can go, his eyes flick over to the green mare. “I gotta say, doc, I’ve never seen somepony be so polite and formal while insisting their friggin sire be effectively euthanized. That’s some cold ass shit right there.”

“Right?” she agreeingly chuckles. “Not the worst I’ve ever seen, but top ten, at least.”

“Ugh. I don’t think I want to know number one.” He turns to regard the zebra, finding her both confused and enraged. “Easy, doc. I’m not killing the dude.”

“But,” she begins, anger subsumed by puzzlement, “you just said -”

“I said I would be removing him from life preserving measures. He won’t need ‘em in a minute.” Rearing up to look at the stallion in bed, Serpentus lights up his horn and begins his work. Dr. Care rushes to the other side, lighting her horn to cast some kind of diagnostic spell. Slowing his work slightly for the mare to more easily observe, he turns to look at the watching zebra. “Ya gotta have a little more faith, Dr. Nala. Nopony’s dying on my watch.”

“I… apologize, your highness. I should have known better.”

“Apology accepted, doc. Don’t worry about it.” He looks to Dr. Care and asks, “So what are the odds we can get his wife in for an appointment sometime in the next week or so?”

“Pretty good, I bet,” she comments. “Are you going to start seeing every elderly pony in the city, sir?”

“Aww, doc, I’ll see you right now if you want.”

The unicorn shoots him a glare. “I know where you work, colt.”

He holds his hooves up in surrender. He spends a moment pondering the question before nodding. “You know what? I know you were joking, but that actually sounds like a pretty good idea. It would definitely be better than seeing them like this. I was going to talk to you about a few things later. Increasing my hours, adding additional days, planning out some medical trials… maybe we can add that to the list.”

“Sounds good to me. Lunch?”

“That’ll work.”

“Question.”

“Hm?”

“Which one of us gets to tell Lady Clearport that her sire is going to make a full recovery?”

For the first time in the entire morning, a genuine smile stretches across Dr. Nala’s muzzle.

Author's Note

Alright, I hate to do this, but I am running super behind. I have given this a couple once-overs, but won't have the time to really sit down and go through it in detail like I normally do before hitting publish. I probably won't have a chance to come back and fix everything until tomorrow, but I didn't want to wait any longer to get this one out there.

Only one other chapter I've done in this format comes to mind. The chapter where Solar leaves for the guard is what I'm referring to. I usually try to have much more dialog and less narrative, but that's not the "feel" I was going for at the start of this one. Hopefully I hit somewhere close to the mark.

The next chapter will be the long awaited Filly chapter. I've got a lot of work to do to get it ready, so bear with me!

As always, thank you all for your continued support. Also, thank you for rating and commenting on the story. I try not to interject my thoughts and opinions into the comments area - I use the A/N for that when appropriate - but I do read them.

Enjoy!

Oh, I almost forgot. I don't normally refer to Cure as Serpentus even when he is in disguise, but since we were seeing him in two places at approximately the same times I figured it would be best to use the appropriate name in its related section. Hopefully that didn't come off as too weird.

Edit:
Okay, I came back and corrected everything and realized that I had somehow wonked up the dates starting back in like... chapter 113? 112? I. I had two chapters on the same day but put the next date even when the day remained the same. So, "Tuesday, September 8th" then "Tuesday, September 9th", for example. Anyhow, I'm sure you're all devastated that such a horrible mistake could happen. I know I am. It's fixed now, though, so take a deep breath and we'll all get through this together. Somehow.

I also knocked out the typos that were pointed out, so thanks for that, folks!

Chapter 123: Lord Clearport Short

Monday, September 15th, 909 AB (moments later)

“Aaaalright,” the colt drawls, removing his hoof from the unconscious stallion. “He should start coming to in just a moment.” With Lord Clearport’s injury healed and him breathing under his own power, Cure ignites his horn and gently removes the collar wrapped around the unicorn’s neck, then the four smaller ones wrapped around each of his legs at the thigh. He goes the extra distance and regrows the stallion’s fur, blending the coat so there is no outward sign that the unit was attached at all.

The backpacks the young alicorn created were designed with emergencies in mind, and while they can provide for everything a patient may need in a crunch, they were not created with the intention of replacing the traditional methods of keeping somepony alive. They can for a short while, but not only will this cause them to burn through their energy stores at an unsustainable rate, neither the pulmonary nor the digestive systems of ponies fare well when they go unused for too long.

There is also the entirely valid argument against having a single point of failure. While it may be safe to assume that a creation of the Alicorn of Life will work as intended, it wouldn’t do to overly rely on a completely new and unorthodox method that is still in the process of being vetted. Having it as a redundancy may give the care team a cushion if something were to fail, but tried and true methods should be and still are their first go-to options.

It’s the exact reason why Cure has not yet tried to improve on the existing technology. That and, at the end of the day, if somepony needs an external source to provide food into their gut and pump air into their lungs, there’s only a few ways to really accomplish that. There’s no better method of helping somepony breathe, and the only alternative to a feeding tube down the throat would be a surgically installed one that is a far more invasive procedure and is wholly unnecessary for a short term stay.

The two actual doctors in the room don’t sit idle. While Cure is removing his invention, they both get started on the process of extubating the patient, removing his feeding tube, and taking care of the catheter that had been inserted. Those are all duties that a nurse would normally take care of, but seem to be eager to get the stallion back on his hooves.

Once free of all medical equipment, Dr. Care and Cure start slinging around Sanitize spells to maintain maximum cleanliness while Dr. Nala repositions the stallion on his barrel with a small pillow under his chin between his forelegs. Cure smoothes over the previously attached areas of irritation and swelling that the removed instruments caused, then the three settle in to wait.

The small team spends the next few minutes chatting about other patients that have come and gone over the last couple weeks as well as give the colt a rundown of what he can expect to deal with for the next few hours.

They fall silent when the stallion finally begins to stir. Dr. Nala waits by the door while Dr. Care stands on his left and Cure, reared up to lean against the bed, stands on his right to flank the older unicorn. Their arrangement was suggested by the intensivist as, unfortunately, some patients don’t respond the best when awakening to find a zebra staring down at them.

Cure reluctantly admits to himself that it would probably not go well if he were to find himself in that situation, though his reasoning is likely quite different from that of the average bedbound patient.

With a cup of water hovering in her aura, Dr. Care gently runs her fetlock down the elder unicorn’s neck. “Lord Clearport?” she softly calls. “Can you hear me, sir?”

Eyes cracking open, the stallion glances in her direction before letting out a wheezing cough. “Take it easy, sir. I don’t know how much you remember, but you took quite the spill. Here, have some water,” she offers, hovering the cup in front of his muzzle. Tipping it so he can slowly sip it down, she continues, “You’re at the Baltimare Hospital in the Intensive Care Unit. It’s Monday, the fifteenth. I'm Doctor Mending Care. His Highness, Prince Serpentus is here -”

The colt chirps out a “Yo!” and waves a hoof from the stallion’s other side.

“- as is Doctor Nala, who’s in charge of our ICU.”

“Greetings, Lord Clearport.”

“To you as well, doctor,” he returns between sips. It takes a moment for him to get the rest of the cup down, and he takes the opportunity to look around the room and gather his thoughts. Speaking slowly, the stallion begins, “I remember leaving the club.” It takes another moment before he goes on. “I had arrived home. I remember standing to leave the carriage, then…” he pauses, staring off into the distance for a moment, then shaking his head. “I cannot remember what happened next. Where is my wife?”

“She’s at home,” Dr. Care responds. “It’s early Monday morning, sir. You fell out of the carriage and have been unconscious for the last four and a half days. She’s been here every day, but it’s still quite early. We’ll have to send somepony to inform her of your recovery.”

He looks to his right, noting that the young alicorn is smiling up at him. “Your highness,” he intones, dipping his head in a shallow bow. “Presumably if I am in the intensive care unit and my condition warranted treatment from your esteemed self, then I was not merely unconscious.”

“No formalities needed here, mister. You were unconscious, but your odds of ever waking up, let alone being functional again, were not the greatest. I had to fix up the area under your horn which includes the part of the brain called the frontal lobe. You should be good as new, but that is the part of the brain we use for decision making, planning, and a number of other very important things.”

Dr. Care smoothly steps in to add, “It’s the part of the brain that, in many ways, makes you you. His highness has been able to heal ponies with damage to that area in the past, and in those instances there wasn’t any significant change to the pony’s behavior, but we haven’t had time to see how everything plays out months or years down the line.”

Growing concern visible on his face, Lord Clearport asks, “Then one could argue that who I was is essentially deceased?!”

“No,” she firmly insists. “You have all of your memories, correct?”

He only spends a moment in thought before slowly nodding. “I do. That is to say, I'm confident that I do.”

"Do you, perhaps, keep a journal?" the mare asks.

"I do. Several, in fact." He smiles faintly, adding, "I began keeping one at my wife's suggestion early on in my career. She suggested them as a means to organize my thoughts. While her wisdom, as always, was invaluable, I dearly wish she had taken her own advice as well."

"That's perfect!" she exclaims. She rests her fetlock on top of his, encouragingly suggesting, "I highly recommend you look over them in the coming weeks. Perhaps review the decisions you’ve made to determine whether, under the same circumstances and without the gift of hindsight, you believe you would make them the same way. Spend some time with your family and any close friends so they can reassure you that you are still the same Lord Clearport that you were before.”

Looking somewhat relieved at the advice, he sighs deeply and nods in acceptance. “I believe that is a prudent suggestion, if due no other reason than to assuage any doubts,” he pauses, shifting slightly on the bed. “Mental faculties aside, I feel perfectly healthy, all things considered.” He wiggles a little more energetically and adds, “In fact, I can’t help but notice that my hip is no longer aching as it is often wont to.”

“You’re welcome!”

“Much appreciated, your highness.” He gives Dr. Care a warm smile, then cautiously rises, turns, and sits on his haunches facing Dr. Nala and the room’s door. Cure and both doctors watch on warily, ready to dive into action if the older unicorn looks like he is even the slightest bit unsteady, but he manages fine without their assistance.

Relieved not only that Lord Clearport didn’t lose his balance, but also that he’s beside the stallion instead of staring right at his junk, Cure continues explaining everything he took care of. “So just to be clear, I only healed the existing injuries and made some quality of life fixes. No more arthritis, as you’ve already noticed, no more IBS, I cleaned up a few old, healed injuries, and so on and so forth. What I did not do is give you the comprehensive snout to tail cure-all, and that’s only because you weren’t conscious to give me the okay to do so.”

“Ah. That is reasonable. I cannot imagine most ponies would decline such an offer.”

“No, most don’t, but that was not explicitly asked of me from your power of attorney.”

“Given that my wife is incapable of performing the requisite duties, I presume that would be my daughter, Midday?”

“You would presume correctly,” he confirms with a nod.

“I’m amazed she asked for you to heal me at all,” the stallion admits with a chuckle. When all three equines minutely wince he laughs more energetically. “She did not ask you to heal me, did she?”

“I didn’t want to burden you with this right after waking up,” the colt sheepishly admits, “but no, she did not. She was adamant that you be ‘removed from life preserving measures’ before I even showed up.”

Lord Clearport nods understandingly and, if Cure isn’t mistaken, even seems to approve. “That does sound much more like my little Middy.” He takes in their somewhat taken aback demeanours and softly snorts. “I beg your forgiveness, your highness, esteemed ladies, but I would argue that not even a dam knows their foals as well as their sire does. Unlike my wife, I was never blinded to my childrens’ shortcomings. Midday has never lacked for ambition. She has a fire within her unlike our others. That is why I trust her to ensure everything I built continues well beyond myself.”

“That’s…” Dr. Care begins before drifting off into a sigh. Massaging her temple with a fetlock, she says, “Honestly, I’m not sure what to say, sir. Now that you are capable of making that decision for yourself, what would you like to do?”

He turns to Cure with a questioning look. “Forgive my ignorance, but if his highness’s power could cure all that ails, presumably it might afford one more time before the eventual inevitable?”

“Definitely. Ponies don’t die simply from age, after all. If you take an old, beat up wagon and fix it up, even if it is still old you’ll still get at least a few more trips out of it.”

Nodding in acceptance, Lord Clearport immediately follows up, “Well then, my only other concern is whether or not his highness believes it is within his power to restore my wife’s mind as well.” He gains a faraway look, turning his neck to face the wall above and slightly to the left of Dr. Care.

Cure can’t be sure exactly where in Parkdale Lady Clearport may be, but he’d be willing to bet more than a few bits he could fly in the direction that the stallion’s snout is pointed and pass right over her. Being distinctly aware of the absence of a similar feeling, he can’t help but feel a pang of envy as it creeps into his heart.

Unaware of the alicorn’s anguish, the elder unicorn smiles wistfully and continues, “We have been together for sixty two years. She has always been my rudder, steering me through the worst storms life threw at me.” With a firm nod he insists, “If I cannot have her by my side in this life then I would rather hope to find her in whatever comes after.”

A lump forms in Cure’s throat that not even his talent can dispel. He struggles valiantly to hold back the tears fighting to escape, locking the muscles at the base of his ears to keep them upright and focused ahead of himself instead of allowing them to droop forlornly and show his true feelings. Fortunately only Dr. Nala can see him, and she’s focused on her patient enough that the moisture gathered around the colt's eyes escape her notice.

Dr. Care assures him, “We’ll make an appointment to get her seen. I’m sure his highness will take good care of her, Lord Clearport. If I may suggest, perhaps it would put any concerns to bed if his highness might treat both of you at the same time?”

“Sure. That works for me,” Cure agrees, struggling to at least seem like his normal chipper self.

The stallion hesitates only a moment before nodding in acceptance. “I believe I would rest easier seeing her restored first.”

“Perfect. Before you head home today, swing by the desk in front of my office near the main lobby. As for you, here, now… Well, I think I’ll defer to the actual doctors on that.” He turns to Dr. Nala and waves a hoof at the stallion, saying, “I believe my work is done here, doc.”

The mare approaches on the alicorn’s left, explaining, “We would like to get you up and moving, first. Normally we would take things much more slowly, but with the effectiveness of his highness’s healing, we should have you ready to go within a few hours. Once we see that you are moving without difficulty, we’ll have somepony bring you a light meal and, if everything goes well, prepare you for discharge.”

“That sounds perfect, madame. Then, in the meantime, I don’t suppose anypony has a copy of today’s Sun nearby? It seems I have a few days worth of news to catch up on.”

“We’ll have one brought to your room as soon as we can,” Dr. Nala replies. “For now, I believe we should inform your daughter of your recovery and get everything started on our end.”

Sliding back down to lay on his barrel, Lord Clearport smirks and shakes his head. “There is no need for you to endure my daughter’s ire, doctor. I would happily remove that burden from your withers. Besides, I believe this may prove quite entertaining, should you be willing to afford me another moment of your time,”

The zebra smiles and gestures to the door. “By all means.”

Horn lit, the stallion pulls the door open and calls out, “Midday, sweetheart?”

Out in the hallway Cure hears the mare quietly hiss, “That sounded like my sire! What did that fucking brat do?!” The colt can almost imagine her leaning into her attorney’s ear while seething.

“Mrs. Clearport- ” the lawyer begins to whisper back.

She doesn’t give him any chance to respond, pushing past him to approach the door. Smiling joyfully, she peers around the frame with eager eyes. Even with his extraordinary senses, had she not just told the colt to pull the plug on her sire, he would never suspect she was anything but elated. There is still the lingering scent of fury on her, but even that is fading quickly.

“Daddy!” she nearly squeals, rushing to his bedside as quickly as any sixty year old mare could be expected to. She nearly body checks Dr. Care out of the way when she rears up to wrap around her sire’s neck with her forelegs, nuzzling her head into his mane. “They said you may never wake! I am so relieved!”

“See? I told you I would get him off that life support stuff, no problem,” Cure smugly declares.

She opens her eyes and peers down, staring daggers at the grinning foal. “You have my eternal gratitude, your highness. I shall endeavor to find some way to repay this debt, of this I promise.”

“Think nothing of it, really,” he insists, flicking his wing in dismissal.

Leaning his head into her right shoulder, Lord Clearport assures her, “We may end up further in his highness’s debt in the coming weeks. At the good doctor’s urging, I intend to make a follow-up appointment to address any lingering conditions his highness was not prepared to resolve today. Suffice to say, his highness is certain that your dam and I will be hale and healthy for many years to come.”

Leaning back so she can meet her sire's eyes with a beaming grin plastered across her muzzle, she says, “I cannot tell you how thrilled I am to hear that, daddy. Truly the maker has blessed all of Equestria to give us such an upstanding. Fine. Young. Gentlestallion.”

“Indeed she has,” her sire warmly agrees. “Indeed she has.”

Author's Note

I was going to leave this to everyone's imagination, but the idea of what could happen next just wouldn't stop bugging me until I wrote something out. It's probably not quite what most of you were hoping for, but without letting it go too far off topic with the whole "I fixed your brain" thing, this feels like at least a somewhat realistic outcome given the scenario.

I may revisit that topic more in-depth in a later chapter, but this was intended to be a short one. I'm not sure it would meet some people's definition of a short chapter, but I'm beginning to doubt that I have it within myself to write one that REALLY is short.

Hopefully this'll help you all get by until we get a chance to hop over to Filly, which is probably a couple weeks from being ready.

Enjoy!